THE FAMOUS TRAGEDY OF King Charles I. As it was ACTED before White-Hall, By the FANATICAL Servants OF Oliver Cromwell. LONDON: Printed for J. BAKER. Price Sixpence. beheading of King Charles I THE PROLOGUE To the GENTRY. THough Johnson, Shakespeare, Goffe. and Davenant, Brave Sucklin, Beaumond, Fletcher, Shurley want The Life of Action, and their learned Lines Are loathed, by the Monsters of the Times; Yet your refined Souls, can Penetrate Their depth of Merit, and excuse their Fate: With this position, those rude Elves that dare 'Gainst all Divine, and humane Laws, make War; Who count it triple Glory, to transgress Perfect in nothing. but imperfectness. Can find no better Engine to advance Their Thrones, then Vile, and Beastly Ignorance: Their Bloody Myrmidons. o' th' Table round, Project to raise, our theatres to the Ground: No marvel they lap Blood, as Milk and Glory, To be Recorded Villains, upon Story. " For having Killed their King, where will they stay " That through God and Majesty, make way, " Throwing the Nobles, and the Gentry down " Levelling all distinctions to the Crown. So that (which Heaven forbidden) should they reduce Our English World, to their confused Use; 'Twill be admired, more than a Prodegee, To hear an Herald, state a Prodigy, An 'twill be thought a sharp and bitter Blur To salute any, by the Title (Sir.) We here present you, his deplored Fall, Whose Death will prove a Ruin general; (If Fates forbidden not) and we hold to view What the World knows, is not more strange than true: Anotomizing Treason, damning them Who Murdered Charles, to share His Diadem And to preserve their Souls in Flesh whose 〈◊〉 Unto the Ruin, of all Europe tends: But Jove's all Potent Thunder shall divide Their Plots, and sink them, in their height of Pride. Exit. The PERSONS. Fairfax. Ireton. Rainsborough. Peter's. Bosvil. Cromwell. Pride. Sir Charles Lucas. Sir George Lisle. Blackburne. Lord Capell. Lord Goring. Treason, Ambition, Lust, Perjury, Sacrilege, Revenge, Parliament-men Messengers Mrs. Lambert. Mutes. Soldiers. Servants THE TRAGEDY OF KING Charles the First. ACT I. Enter Hugh Peter and Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell. MY fine Facetious Devil, who wear'st the Livery of the Stygian God, as the White Emblem of thy Innocence: Hast thou prepared a Pithy Speech against the Essence and the Power of KINGS? That when to Morrow all my Myrmidons do meet upon Onslow-heath, like the Greek Exorcist, Renowned Calchas, when with his Magic Numbers he encouraged great Alreus' Son, and Marshal Diomedes to Prosecute their Siege 'gainst Priam's Town, by thy insinuating persuasive Art, their Hearts may move, like Reeds, when Boreas' Breath smites the huge Oaks, that on Mount Pelion grow, I know that Nectar hangs upon thy Lips, and that the most absurd Syllogism, or Ear-deceiving Paradox, maintained by thee, shall seem Oraculous, more dangerous to question than the Sacred Writ: Sing then (my Hugh) and so thy Numbers sing, All those that hear, may jointly curse their King. Peter's. Most valiant and invincible Commander, whose Names as terrible to the Royalists, as e'er was Humades to the Turks, or Talbet to the French; thy Nose, like a bright Beacon, sparkling still (the Aetna, that doth Fame our English World) hangs like a Comet o'er thy dreadful Face, denouncing Death and Vengeance; the Ancients Famed Alcides for his Acts, thou hast not Slain, but Ta'en the Kingly Lion, and like great Tamburlaine with his Bajazet, canst render him within an Iron Cage a spectacle of Mirth, when e'er thou pleasest. Had the Snake-footed, Earthborn Sons of Old but had thy aid, Imponere pelien ossae, Old Saturn might have laughed to see his Son sit sadly by him in the Cimmerian Shades, while thou didst sway the Empire of the Skies; England's best Patriot, and my Noble a Sermon (such as Ignatius Loyalla himself, where he to Morrow to supply my place, for dangerous, Doctrine, direful Use and dreadful Application, would glory to Name his) I have provided such an one, As shall confirm our Faction ten times more Than all that they have known, or heard before: In it I'll prove Kings (ab origine) have been the People's plague, given them by the Angry God's in Wrath, the mere Exuberance of their Crimes, the Sordid Vulgar being delighted much to Honour, those dull Images which themselves Erect, and dread those Antics which themselves depaint, themselves affording both the Horns and Nails which make them either dangerous or Ugly, I will assert, that Regal Power is Devilish, and inconsistent with the People's Freedom: I will make it good, the Tyrant now in hold, (whom some yet call, their Lord King CHARLES) doth Merit violent Death, as Guilty of the many Thousand Horrors committed in the late most bitter War, I will demonstratively— Crom. Enough, Enough, (my dearest Hugh) thou art my better Genius, thy Advice, I will rely on with more sure respect then on a Sibyls Words, or Delphian Oracle, drink the Elixir of that precious Metal 'tis Sovereign 'gainst that Perilous Disease, called [he gives him Gold] Speaking Truth, 'twill prove an Animation to thy Mind, for to proceed in thy Audacious Practice (I mean, against the King and 's House of Peers) thou'lt find it a most precious Antitode against the Poison, wavering Fame shall spit, and to conclude, a perfect Supplement of all defects that Time, or Fate shall by harsh Doom appoint, But what will please thee best (my dearest Hugh) IT will purvey for thee, Wine and Wenches too. Peter's. Sir, you are pleased to make my Faults your Mirth, I do confess the Luscious Paphian Sin, hath ever vanquished all my Virtuous Powers, the Cyptian Queen (in full aspect of Mars) being predominant solely at my Birth, besides the Constitution of my Body made up of moisture and venerable Humours, though some great Ladies say, (lean Mex do best) may help for to extenuate my Crime of being too often proved beneath the Navel. But Noble Sir, this Colloque is too poor, if we consider our most high resolves, our Language should be like those Laws we mean to give, awful and to be wondered at by Mortals, Sable-browed Saturn, and Bloodthirsty Mars must seem sole Rectors over us Abroad, though Venus and her sort Son the sightless Boy, challenge our utmost Faculties in private. Crom. Thou art that Loadstone, which shall draw my Sense to any part of Policy in the Machiavilian World, we two (like Mahomet and his pliant Monk) will Frame an English Alcoran, which shall be written with the self same Pencil, great Draco graved his Laws, but first we must subdue the Testy Scot, and send the Beggars Home as lousy, though not so propped with Limbs, or so well shaped as when they chose the Politic Hamilton to be their General: Mean time if those auspicious Stars of Sin, whose Influence hath prospered Treason hitherto, shall still continue Gracious to our Villainy, Tom Fairfax may take the Town of Colchester, and force that stubborn Truly-valiant Heroes (for in my Thoughts I do esteem them so) who have ta'en shelter in that Ancient City at least for to comply on remiss Terms; my next Work than is, to New-mould our Army, and give a strong Purgation to those Punies who act for me, and may be called my Parliament, whose great work yet remains to do (my Hugh) the King shall die, and they shall Father the most damned Act upon the Power of Justice; that done, all Earls and Lords shall down for to make way for me and those I favour. Then thee and I, and those whom we create Will Reign like Princes, and the Lords of Fate. Pet. I knew before the scope of your intents, and do applaud them as magnanimous, and the sole way left to preserve our lives; in order unto which your dear design, it shall be my task, both at Press and Pulpit, to render Kingly Government obnoxious and incompatible with the People's Rights; to prove the imprisoned King a truculent Tyrant whose blood alone can expiate Heaven's wrath, and purchase an atonement with the Deities; expect me all I may (renowned Sir) for promulgation of our well-fixt Cause, from which no fear of pain, or hope ●f profit shall be of force to draw me. For he that dares attempt, and goes not on, Doth leap for safety into Phlegeton. Crom. Our conference here must end, some three days hence I march towards the old North to meet the Bannock feeding the fiery Scots: They have (I heard) already worsted Lambert, and puffed up with the pride of victory come on like Lions, flushed in humane gore, I shall not need to pray your readiness. Pet. Command me as your Creature; Sir, you were pleased to impose a task upon me (which by the Aid of some one amongst the Nine, I know not which to thank for the good turn) I have performed, after a tedious pumping: The Theme you gave me, Sir, you know was this, The People's rights transcends the power of Kings. Sir, I have done my best to justify your learned Axiom in this Scroll. [gives him a Paper. Crom. Your love to my requests makes your performance of them swift and punctual by the great Genius of this Land (o'er which I hope to Reign) I had forgot what late I urged you to, this shall oblige my love— What's here I am an ill Versefier or Verse-maker, (what do you call your Trimeter-men?) and none but those have sipped of Helicon ( heard) can grace a Verse i'th' reading it— pray sing them yourself. gives the Scroll back to Peter's. Pet. How Sir? sing them! Crom. Sing them, or say them, all's one; think not I take you for a Baller Poet, but I want terms of Art. Pet. At your pleasure Sir. [Peter reads. Even till this Age People durst not see The pride of Pomp in formal Tyranny, The People who raise Kings unto the Crown Are ladders, standing still, to let them down. Crom. The People's backs is the worst pair of Stairs a Man can possibly adventure upon they are strong, but slippery, firm, but false: You are an excellent Similist (my Hugh) 'tis an apt comparison to similize the People to a Ladder; but I pray Heaven thee and I have not ascended so high upon this tall Ladder, that we shall never have an opportunity to descend without breaking our necks. Pet. I beseech you Sir, either hear me, without paraphrasing, or command me to read no more— Crom. Nay, now I see thou art a pettish Poet; read on, I'll be as silent as a Statue— Pet. Abolish these false Oracles of might, 'Cause we were once blind, shall we now hate light? Why, like the Wood that yields helves to the Axe Should we upon ourselves lay heavy tax, Setting up Kings our freedom to confound With our own strength, exhausting our own ground? Crom. So, so, enough of this, I'll hear the rest in private, let it suffice (dear Hugh) that I accept your Verses with all love, and do assign you if (Apollo please) a Grove of Bay to shade your learned skull from his all-peircing Beams; Wing'-Time hath sent one of his Sons to warn me hasten hence; my ●ate moves swift, and I must move with it (my Hugh) Farewell, fall not to offer up the strict Orisons unto our swarthy if now I prove victorious: A King and Kingdom is my valour's prize, By both their ruins, I intent to rise. manet Peter. [Exit Cromwell. Pet. This Fellow (sure) was born (as the III Richard, who once ruled this Land) with his mouth full of Teeth, Nature hath given him an I●on Soul, able and active limbs, a politic brain, which is indeed a store-house of politic stratagems, as if she meant him for the fall and ruin of all Mankind, his stout Confederates work their ends amain, but he outworks 'em all, the very Mine they have placed for to blow up their pious Sovereign, shall countermine by Him ruin to themselves, and I Sail with them to the invisible Land (my Hugh) the King must die, those were his words: OH sad and fatal Project! when they have served their utmost ends upon Him, and on their knees took Oaths to reinstate Him, must a black Coffin be his Throne, and a cold Vault his garnished Pavilion? Let the famed Villains of all former times have their dire deeds razed out of Fame's black Book as trivial accidents and neglected dreams, that these may take up all the room on Record for the most glorious Miscreants e'er Rebelled; but what strange fancy lurks within my brain, which makes me tax their ways with whom I act, whose deeds I do applaud as meritorious, deserving honour, and the best repute? what vile finister fate governs my Life? I loathe the ills I do, yet hug them next my Heart. Pardon great Jove and my most gracious Prince, whose Virtues do deprive thee of a being; I must go on, though Oreus yaun upon me, and Demogorgon (with his damned crew) dictates in person what I preach or Writ. Cromwell I come with a disguised face, with as reserved a cunning as that Greek that brought in Pallas' Horse to half raised TROY; thy craft I will repel with double care, resting as jealous as I lay perdieu behind a potent Foe; thy guilt is great, so mine and all of us; 'tis policy that must protect my life, and place me a degree above you all. For he that will the Devil's Master be, Must have a mind, mischievous than he. Exit. The end of the First Act. ACT II Enter Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow, in Arms, Drums beating, Colours flying with Soldiers as before the Town of COLCHESTER. Fairfax. THus having rammed our Enemies in Kent, quieted Cornwall, and secured Devonshire; what now remains but with accustomed courage to take in this strong Town of Golchester? Within whose Walls do lodge divers of note, who are professed and open Enemies unto the State we serve. Ireton. The fate was just, that with delusive hopes hath led them to a receptical of ruin, from whence they cannot budge without our knowledge. Rainsborow. They're taken in our Toils, and must not scape with Life quickly let us draw out our Line, and raise our Batterries, girding the Town with a close Siege, and let the Cannons dreadful voice proclaim to them their certain ruin. Fairf. First let us Summon them to yield on Terms; if they prove so Fool hardy as to refuse, then let our Iron-ball in smoke and sulphur sing a sad Requiem in their fearful ears, sound loud the summons, that the Foe may hear we wish a Parley. [A Parley sounded. Sir Charles Lucas, Sir George Lisle, Lord-Capell, Lord Goring, etc. appears as upon: he Walls. Sir Charles. Who gives this hasty Summons? Fairfax. Know Sir, the General and the Army raised for the preservation of the State of England for to support and vindicate their Privileges; in their Nam 〈…〉, that you yield up yourselves, and all are under your 〈…〉 with this 〈…〉 use. Sir Charles. Traitor 〈…〉 I hold this City) chosen 〈…〉 and these my loyal valiant 〈…〉 survive, and rather than 〈…〉 (with i●) into the A●. Fairf. Thou and thy 〈…〉 bower such Men as 〈…〉 to a hundred, and a hundred 〈…〉 I do confess (thou hast triumph 〈…〉scend unto Helis shades like him) but that proves not the 〈…〉 thy cause: For, by the same rule Ottoman may boast, The partial Deities favour him the most. Rainsborow. By that God whom I serve thou traitor Lisle, I'll see thee hewn in pieces, and thy cursed body thrown unto the D●●●. Sir George. A vaunt thou hom-bred Mongrel, who art (intruth) merely a valiant Voice, an hollow Cask in which some rumbling with delights to sport itself; Thersit●s thus, durst menace Agamemnon, Know Fellow, I have been viciorious even against a multitude, have trod the thorny path of cragged War, my Body naked, and my ●eet unshood have viewed those horrors of a purple neld untroubled and untouched, which but to hear summed up would fright thy Coward-Soul, from forth her dirty Dog-hole. Rainsborow. Why spend we time in Dialegue with these Miscreants these cautift Elves, who fight for Yokes and Fetters, with as much zeal as half starved Wretches beg a boon to sat their hungers and wish profesedly to spend their bloods to please a Tyrant's lust. Lord Capell. Away mechanic Slave, whatsaucy Devil prompts thee so to prate, when the meanest here thou ought'st to stoop with all obsequious Duty? Thou sordid Groom, whom of a Skippers-Boy, the Westminsterian Rebels made thee their Admiral, whom even the dullest Seamen so despised, they scorned to hale an Anchor at thy bidding, and at last (tired with thy loathed Company) intending to have sowzed thee in the deep (moved with thy trickling Tears and Piteous plaints) set thee on shore to Foot it back to Westminster; how dares thy perjured Tongue to challenge us, serving our dread Lord, His Sacred Majesty, Him whom all Europe wonders at, as the best of all the Christian Kings, who for his discreet valour Rivals Scipio, for prudence Solomon, for temperance without Parallel, as are his Sufferings, and griping Griefs by you (base Traitors) each day heaped upon Him, having immured His Royal Person up in a strong Den, fit for untamed Lions, banished his Loyal Imperial Lady, and with Her the Two Elder of his Issue, bereaved Him of his Navy and Revenue, and what e'er truth called His, know perjured Rebels, ere this Summer end, (perhaps ere Sol doth hunt the Nemean Lion) we shall have strong relief, you a just Punishment, if not, Our comfort is, though we be left i' th' lurch, We Martyrs fall, for God, the King and Church. Ireton. You'll not accept then of our proffered Summons, or come to composition. Lord Goring. Compound! Confound we may (perhaps) some Thousand of you. Sir Charles. I am resolved ye Traitors, and so I know are my Honoured Friends, which is the Sense of all within the Town, to hold this place even to the utmost hazard; nor are we destitute of much Provision, enough for to supply us many Months; when that fails, we have Horses many Hundred, of Dogs and Cats even a Multitude: Zeno and Chrysippus, the two main Pillars of the Stoic Sect, pronounce such Meats as useful to Mankind, as the best Sheep or neat; the Ancient Almains held the selfsame Doctrine. We'll be their Imitators, and that you may know 'tis our resolution, forsake your Station, ere we leave the Walls, or the hot Breath, that lightens from an Angry Cannon's Throat, shall try to waste you hence, away, away we'll meet you in plain Fed. Thou true Jehovah, now own thine own Cause, Thou knowst we Fight for thee, our King and Laws. Fair. Draw up our Troops we'll make these Boasters feel, The potent Rigour of our strong Edge Steel. Alarm excursions, a shout within and crying. [Fair. cum su●s Exit. Open the Gates, On, on, on, Enter Sir Charles Lucas, Sir George Lisle and Lord Capel, their Party; at the other Door, Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborough, with their Party, they charge Three to Three, while the Soldiers on both sides Encounter, the Round heads are beaten off, a Retreat sounded. Sir Charles. The Power superior to the God of War, hath Graced our first Attempt with Victory; the Rebels (with exceeding loss) are Fled, whom the most Valiant Capel hath in Pursuit; see how they scutover the Neighbouring Plains, like Flocks of Sheep before an hungry Lion; so for the ●uture, let Almighty Jove infatuate their proud Hearts with Panic Fear, who strike at himself in his Vicegerent. King's are Earth's Gods, and those that Menace them (Were't in their Power) would share his Diadem. He speaks this looking upon some Roundheads lying dead on the ground selves for your Impieties! Alas, deluded self-destroying Men! whose Erring Souls by this winged Hermes, hath ushered unto the depth of Barathrum, in blue Flames for evermore to howl, Cursing yourselves for your Impieties! Oh Erring Vulgar! Oh besotted People, that take such pains to become Miserable, who (with the Phrygian Fabulators Dog) catch at vain Shadows, and lose the substance: So the Athenians Courted Thirty Tyrants to be the Party that should gall their Heartstrings; and the fond Syracusians laboured sore to have the Dionisii be their Consults: Was ever any Nation blessed with so good a Prince (as Charles our King) that so opprobriously desserted him? Succeeding Ages cannot choose but say Nations have suffered cause their Kings were Ill, But Britain's Charles, his People's Sins did Kill. But let it hap as God shall appoint, if it be written in the Book of Fate, the Rebels shall dissolve the English Monarchy, with the Life blood of their most Gracious Prince, yet let us hinder that dire Ominous Day, (while we have Being with our utmost Might, and e'er we Fall and be Commixed with new and stranger Earth, by hard Achievements and Heroict Acts (performed for Charles, and for our Country's sake) let us provide us Fame when We are Dead, that the next Age, when they shall Read the Story of this Unnatural, Uncivil War; and amongst a Crowd of Warriors find our Names Filled with those, that durst pass through all Horrors by Death and Vengeance, for their King and Sovereign. They may sing Paeans to our Valiant Acts, And yield us a kind Plaudit for our Facts. Sir George. If we defend this Town against the Rebel's Fury but One Month longer, Hamiltonian Duke (who now hath pasted Tweed with a Numerous Army, full Twenty Thousand Scots, Ten Thousand English Commanded by the Truly-Valiant and invincible Knight, Renowned Langdale, we shall have Honourable and sure Relief; mean time by frequent Sallies, we'll endeavour to break in pieces Fairfax his guilty Forces; the Prince of Wales is now upon the Downs, and with him most part of the Royal Navy; the Londoners speak against the Junto, and every Day are feared to rise against them; the Loyal Welsh continue strong in Arms, and eke in every Angle of the Land the People wish for Action; the Face of things at present, promise fairly: But should you fail (by force of Destiny) Our comfort is, we (when we list) can Diego Sir Charles. I heed not Hamilton or his Resolves, knowing him to be Ambitious, Treacherous, a Proteus that can shift into all Shapes, a sly Insinuating Sycophant, who by his most Fallacious Machinations, hath been the Ruin of the King and Us; 'twas he that Instigated first the King to raise a War against the Covenanters, (yet under Hand Incited them against Him) 'twas he that gave His Majesty Advice to go in Person to the Senate-house, there to demand the Five Seditious Members (yet secretly sent them Word of His Intentions) 'twas he (howe'er he seemed in show Averse) that when His Majesty scaped to the Scots, when Fairfax wholly had subdued His Forces, procured the Damned Salary of his Master, for Twenty Thousand Pounds; and I much fear, 'tis he and only he, that will betray the Army he now leads (knowst thou not George) he ever did aspire to be the King of Scots. 'Tis he that made England all on Flame, Blasted its Beauty, Burnt its goodly Frame; And the Armilla which his Zeal doth twist, Is to be Catiline, yet a Calvanist. Sir George. Let him be Damned and sink to Hell withal his Sins about him, let us do our Parts, and leave the rest to Heaven (Faith Sir Charles) since we have Beat the Foe, while Swarthy Tom flies with his, Timorous Troops, here let us Frolic one half Hour, Mars and Thalia sometimes do accord, only a Health or two unto our Royal Master. Sir Charles. George, I am easily led by thy Advice, although it suit not with our present state to play a Barleybreak in a Golgatha, or Drink down Sorrow 'mongst a heap of Trunks, as liveless as those Clods they lie upon; I prithee do thy pleasure: But, say that Ireton (who stands facing us) should in the midst of our intended Mirth, come up and turn our Triumph into Purple Tears, and in our Goblets mix our Sanguine Gore. Sir George. Why? 'twill be rare, I'd wish no other sport; we Lapethites should soon repel those Centaurs, the scuffle (sure) would be as strange and famous, as that wherein all Ixion's Horse-hoofed Race, were sent to Hell (swift Nessus only scaping) who was reserved for a more dreadful Fate, they shall have nought to boast of, (come they hear) but Iron in their Flesh, and Gunpowder in their Noses. Sir Charles. Be it as thou dost wish, I'll strive to be as Merry as Democritus, and Laugh at War and Damages. Sir George. You highly Honour us (most Noble Governor) [Speaking to the Soldiers. My Fellow Soldiers, have all your Arms in readiness as you were now to Charge the Surly Foe, we will not jest away our Lives, or give the Roundheads Cause to boast a Triumph in their Cathedrated Conventicles; two of you fetch that [Sends two Soldiers. Runlet of Old Sherry, that's placed behind the Door of the Town-hall, bring also store of Pots, for we shall use 'em here (as the Trojans, when by Atrens' Sons they were beleaguered close for Helen's Rape, Hector Sarpedon, Troilus and Old Priam, beneath fair Illion's Walls (girt in bright Arms) sat Banqueting before the Black Haired Greeks, we'll sit securely and pledge full Crowned Cups, (perhaps) 'twill Mad the Rebels: Which if I know, I shall grow Fat with Laughter, And I will use to drink them down hereafter. Sir Charles. The same good Fellow (George) thou ever wert; see how the Rebels Grin and Gape upon us. Sir George. They should Participate of our flowing Cups, would they take but the pains to come amongst Us, such as the Roman Catiline did provide for those he had drawn into his Confederacy, Wine mixed with Blood (an Horrid Sacrament) by which the Swore to Level Rome's proud Battlements. So, set it down (my [The Soldiers return with the Wine. Friend's) and quickly pierce it, and then draw out with as enlarged a Mind as Princes give Gratuities— 'tis Rich and Lusty Liquor, such as would make Heraclitus to Laugh, and Dull Diogence Dance, even in his Tob! Here Noble Governor, this Bowl brimful, unto the Happiness of Him, whom Fame of all the European Kings do call the best. Sir Charles. With as much willingness as one half-spent with a Contagious Fever, receives a Dose he hopes may bring him Health, will I solemnize it upon my Knees. All kneel, they drink the health round while the Chambers are sh●t, and Trumpets perpetudlly sound. Sir George. So, this was as well performed, about again with't. Sir Charles. Once more receive it Soldiers, and that done, let us retire unto our Garrison, believe me (George) we play with Lightning too securely; you know I dare as much, as him dares most, but dare not be too confidently Rash. Sir George. By Heaven (Sir Charles) we will not part so tamely, we'll have one Catch ere we forsake the Ground, if you please for to aid me with your Voice, (fort must be Sung in Parts) You (Soldiers) all join 〈◊〉 in the Close, what saith Sir Charles. Sir Charles. You may command my Suffrage (worthy Lisle) I know 〈…〉 you Fancy; begin— SONG. Sir Geo. Plump chceked Bacchus, we to thee Will yield all honour as befits, For sure thou art a Deity That canst refine the dullest wits, The liquor of thy Vine Is precious and divine, It makes even Cowards fight. Sir Cham It prompts our tongues to talk, Though not our feet to walk, And dictates what to write. Omnes. Drink then (Boys) and drown all sorrow, Who knows if we shall drink to morrow? Sir Geo. Even in the midst of danger When safety is a stranger And no hope of relief, Take a Bowl full of Canary, We of our woes grow weary, And cry a fig ser grief. Sir Cham Drink each a hearty draught Till by thy brains you're caught, 'Twill quite expel all humours; Cry God preserve the King, And shield him with his wing, And d— for the Round heads rumours. Omnes. Drink, etc. Sir Geo. Judge you Gentlemen, is not this better than to be always moiling in Sand and Salt Peter, continually employed in raising Rampires throwing up Sconces, and inventing Stratagems, to foil that Foe who fears to look upon us? Hath not this added to your former Vigour? We must not always fight, lest we become all but one Wound, nor ever tipple, lest the Circaean liquor do Metamorphose us into Swinish shapes; he that's a true Soldier Will undertake all Horros, for his chink; And no less venture for a Wench and Drink. Sir Cham This doctrine (my Friend Lisle) is dangerous, yet too much preached and practised in all Armies; Soldiers do him their Glory, and detract from their own worth, that Love to drink and drab; he only may be termed truly Valiant, that can Repulse and vanquish his own Passions; but this Dish I perceive (my Soldiers) is too much stuffed with Sage, for you to palliate— I wonder Noble Capel stays so long, I fear he hath engaged himself too far after the Flying Foe; he knows not which way back for to Retreat. Sir Geo. He's an experienced Soldier, and so inur'd unto the several stratagems of War, that 'tis a sin Mars would severely plague, but for to doubt his Fortune. Sir Cham I would not be too confident, or to careless, Heavens bring him off with safety and with Honour— let's now re-enter our invincible Fort, and there consult for safety; we must expect the Rebels will once more make their Approaches to our Walls (perhaps) with new Supplies, we will prepare a Tempest 'gainst they Storm. But if great Jove remember whose we are, His ponderous Thunder will their Onset Mar. Exit. The end of the second Act. ACT III Enter Cromwell, solus. Crom. THus far my policies run smooth and currant, deep Rivers glide as silent as the Night, when shallow Books fall with a troubled noise; wherefore was Man created like the Gods, but that like them he should dispose his Acts to the great dread of some, envy of others, easily deluded the King my Master, I have led on with hopes of Re-establishment so long, that now he doubts my feigned reality; and astrong Party in the Junto sit, who without me, are now in Treaty with him, but I shall break the Neck of their Design, (perhaps) before they think it, the several Commanders of the Army are now all of my Faction, while Fairfax (silly Fool) sits like a Statue, as if he nothing knew, or nothing durst, I have proposed unto the several Officers to forsake the King, and yield him up (as one not fit to live) unto the Block; I have informed them, (and it takes exceedingly, so forward are the Fools to work my ends, and their own certain Ruin) that the King is a Man of Blood, by no means to be Trusted, being of a rigid and implicable Spirit, hating (even to the Death) all have opposed Him, and that should He regain his former Power, he quickly would make use on't to their Ruin, that therefore they should make a Retreat in ti●● nor yield their Necks unto a Tyrant's Mercy, that they have declared ●● highly for him, might the more easily (by far) entrap him; nor was it a discredit so to do, since in all Ages such Politic course hath been thought just and safe, they (snared with my words) resolve to do ●●, for to remove the King by violent Death, and to set up a Military ●ower; now my Plots work, the Stage grows great with Horror, the English Monarchy grows sick to Death, its very Basis hath an Ag●e-fit which will not cease to shake it, till it be Levelled to the humble Earth. Mount, Mount my Thoughts, unite like scattered springs, 'Tis a strong Torrent that must bear down Kings. Enter Peter, Boswill, Pride, with Soldiers. Here I appointed my dear Buffoon Peter's, and Col. Boswill, Pride, and my whole Army to meet about this hour— See, they come; Welcome dear Friends, you have observed your Time: My Hugh, how thrives our Counsel in the Army, that our Great General the Lord Fairfax guides? I am sure these Gallant Souls serve under me, are all unanimous to shake off Kings, and while the Iron's hot to strike that Blow, which shall for ever free the English Nation from Tyrants, and their awful Power. Pet. Heroic Sir, they all (even as one Man) applaud even to the skies your rare projection, both Officers and Soldiers, Covetous for to Accomplish what's by you proposed, and as a signal of their Resolutions, see here, the more part of a quaint Remonstrance, which must by us be brought to a Period, wherein we will divulge unto the World, the Reasons and Grounds of our Intents. Crom. As I would wish, never till now could England hope a Happiness; why, how now Boswill, Why art thou so sad? The Noble Pride stands— like a Man astonished, or like a Marble Statue whose Aged Feet are wrapped in Withered Moss, what's the matter? Pride. Nothing (dear Sir) but an excessive Joy which hath surprised my Faculties, and crazed upon the Organs of my Speech, my Mind is busied about the Kingdom's Fate, my Soul in a deep Conference with my Sense about Mature Affairs. Bos. The Constitution of my Soul agrees with thine in each degree of Temper, (most honoured Crom.) from our late sworn Principles I'll not reside, though Heaven Reigned down Fire upon me, though Earth yawned wide, and Hell gorged Balls of Sulphur, the King (that Man of Blood) shall lose his Head, and all his prime Adherents wait on Him unto the other World; the People we will Rule by the Sword's power, their Lives and Goods, (by Conquest) we have gained, our sway must be maintained by Strength, not Law. The Sword that cut a passage to our Sphere, 'Tis that alone must secure us there. Crom. Oh let me put thee in my Bosom (Boswill) henceforth let us converse more nearly, and like the Zod caks geminy mix our Loves, we'll be a second Pylades and Orest●s, and never part till death (my Hugh) let's hear some part of that Remonstrance, 'twill highly spur us on to Action. Pet. You shall, the most material Clauses (Sir) are these, which take with this Exordium I Penned late Yesternight: [He Reads Absolute power of necessity must subsist and keep above water, though all else be assured of drowning, to the loss of all (or at least many) branches of universal Freedom, and therefore the Fox did not conclude amiss when he saw his fellows st●ps march towards the Lions Den. Nos vestigia terrent, if we enter into a strict scrutiny, we shall find that our choice and our nature gave us Kings, the dignity conferred upon a single Man, was (sure) intended for the good of all, but where one draws from all, can that be pleasing or fortunate? or to leave this one, can that be injury? and therefore in order thereto we declare, That we call King CHARLES to an account, as the prime Promoter, Abetter and sole Occasioner of all the Murders and Outrages, committed this many years, during the war, and bring him to a Trial for his Life; that with him we will bring to judgement all those of his Party, who (in order to his Arbitrary Commands) have Marthered, spoiled and impovert shed the Freeborn People of England— Crom. Hold, I have heard enough, why this is done to the purpose, and shows all Gallantry did not Die with Brutus, and his Confederate Consuls; now Laurel wreaths commixed with Myrtle branches shall decked our fortunate Brows as the true Patriots of our native Country, (we'll give the whole world cause for to remember us) aside the ensuing Ages when they read our Acts, shall bless our Memory with devout respect, but flying Phoebus now hath left our Hemisphere, black Night hath now put on her Ebbon Robe and wrapped the Welkin in a sable shroud, we must away now towards the frozen North, (my fellow Soldiers) we must direct our March to jerk the Scots back to their Sedgy Cottages, Malevolent Saturn, oh! be thou propitious, prosper thy Agent in his Deeds of Death, Which are so grim and horrid, full of ire, Some will suspect, the Devil, was my Sire. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow, cum aliis, as in a Tent, a Table, and Tapers. Fairf. How goes the Night? Ire. About the hour of Twelve. Fairf. Now then, while all the World's involved in silence, and Man and Beast takes their Repose and Rest, let us determine about these Captive Heroes, who with this Town of Colchester to Morrow, must yield themselves unto our Mercy. Rain. Renowned General, under whose Conduct we have been fortunate and Victorious, I need not now recite, since you well know what vast Expense of Blood, of Toil and Treasure, we have been at since we Besieged this Town, the Third part of our Army quite Consumed by the Immured Enemies frequent Sallies, by our unfruitful Onsets, and hard Duty, and how Merciless they have shown themselves to those (of ours) whom Fortune gave them Prisoners; all which considered, I do give my Vote (and Justice speaks the same) that Capel, Goring, Lucas, and Stout Lisle, Die without Mercy, even that very Day which we receive the Town. Ire. Which is to Morrow. Fairf. The Law of Arms will not allow of that, they yield themselves on Quarter, and for the Peers (I mean Goring and Capel) our Power doth not extend to question them, they must be ordered as our State's decree; the ancient only Captains of the World, Hambal, Scipio, and Themistocles esteemed it far more Glorious, having Conquered their proud Antagonists, to preserve their Lives (given them as their Boon) then to inctici an ugly censure on them: I love an Enemy that is truly Valiant, these have exceeded story in their Acts, And have repelied a Siege, such as Breda Never beheld, nor famous Ravena. Rains. Then let them live to be a Terror to us, and once more to engage the Land with Broils, (know Sir) we are not false whilst these subsist; and should your Clement Mind so sway your Sense, as not to take their Lives, who have sought ours, we shall have cause to disesteem your Person and your Power, as him, whose easy Nature and soft Temper is incompatible with our Persons safety, and Honour our Repute. Since, if by you, Mercy to them is shown, You seek our Ruin, and project your own. Fairf. Ha! Ire. Though in a rough unpolished Phrase (he utters Truth) most Noble General, let not his seeming Rudeness raise your Anger, since Time hath taught you he is truly Faithful, no less Magnanimous in active War; Sir, it concerns you nearly not to permit your invate Love to Valour, so grail the Wings of just deserved Fury. you must not tolerate these Men to escape with Life: For 'twill be thought if you remissly do, You love their Actions, and Applaud them to. Fairf. You than are Generals of the Host, not I; but be it as you Counsel, share you betwixt the Brave Spirits of Two that (if Pithagorus Transmigration were) would make a Thersites, or Thraso Valiant, (Ransborow) see them shot to Death as Soldiers destined by Fortune to a Noble end; some two Hours bence I shall expect to here you say, they are dead My Soul (I feel) is wondrously perplexed, Who knows but mine or your turn may be next? Exit. Rains. He's much distempered, sure they have bought his Mercy, how stoutly did he argue to preserve them, with what reluctancy denounce their Doom! Ireton. An ardent Love to worth and honour moves him (without all doubt) to pity their sad fate, for though Mountains may meet, and generate ere they, and we, enter firm Union, yet we must needs acknowledge they are Men of most approved Valour; but see the cheerful Lady of the light appears in the Horizon decked in her saffron Robe, having old Tithonus' i'll Embraces, she summons every young and sprightly Sol, to wrap her in his Odoriferous Bosom— hark, they shout; What may this portend? [A shout within. Enter a Soldier. What News doth thy Tongue Labour with? Sol. The Town of Colchester is just now surrendered unto the General's Hands, the Governor Sir Charles Lucas, his Loved Associate Sir George Lisle, with the Lord Capel, Old Goring, and a Number more of Gentlemen are cried up as Prisoners. Rains. Be it thy Charge forthwith to certify Lucas and Lisle, that they prepare themselves two Hours hence to Travail toward the Empire of the Skies, or to the shades of Dis. I mean to Die. Sol. I shall Sir. Exit. Rains. Come Commissary, let's go view the Town to cheer our Friends, and doom our scornful Foes. It glads my Soul, and is the only good That I delight in, for to spill their Blocd. Exit. Enter Sir Cham Lucas, and Sir Geo. Lisle, as in Prison. Sir Cham The Iron Hand of Jove lies heavy on us, (Oh George) the proud Rebellious Crew prevail, Loyalty sinks with Plumets at his Heels, while cursed Rebellion rides on the Sun Beams, justles Jove from his Seat, and fathoms Clouds. Sir Geo. They may thank that invincible Champion, Hunger, had not he helped, the Town had yet been ours, the woeful cries of Women and Children, imploring Bread to staunch their pining Stomaches, their Guts almost congealed to Stone within them, their Faces black with Famine, stalking the Streets like (Magic summoned) Ghosts, together with our own dire need, enforced us to surrender to those Rebels, but Jove's dread vengeance (sure) will seize on them that might (but would not) have prevented this; degenerate London, who hast shaken Hands with thine Allegiance, thy aspiring Fabrics ere long must lie— What speaks thy haste? Enter a Soldier. Sol. From the Commanders, Col. Rainsborow, and Commissary Ire. I have in trust to let you know, some Minutes hence you are to die. Exit. Sir Cham Oh perjured Miscreants! is this your Mercy? this my Prophetic Soul still whispered to me; I knew they in our Bloods would bathe their Gild, and sacrifice our Lives to their God Treason, these Victims befit Molech, not Messiah, whom these professed Saints, but real Devils, seem to make the Umpire of their Deeds. Angry Rhamnusia, though we fall to Dust, Punish these Traitors, for their Acts Unjust. Sir Geo. Then 'tis decreed, we must take leave of Day light, and tread the Paths of Immortality. Jove. art thou just, hast thou reward for those Who unto pious acts their lives dispose? And hast thou lost thy vengeance, can it be That these aspiring Titans, scape Scotfree? Where are thy dire Cyclopean balls, the same That muddling Mulciber, doth in Lemnos frame? 'Tis thy Olympic vigour can alone Ding down these Rebels unto Phlegeton. Enter Three Soldiers Armed. Ha', what are you? Sol. Your Executioners. Sir. Cham You are our welcomest Friends; who is allotted to make his Exit first? 1. Sol. Yourself must lead the Dance of Death. Sir Cham Here than I bid fairwel, unto this Stage of Misery, my Life hath been but one continued Scene, woven with perturbations and Anxieties— But stay, whither must now my fleeting Soul take Wing? Into you Starry Mansion, or Steep Tartarus, up to the Milky way, she'll take her flight? Where Souls of Heroes do enjoy their bliss, Where all Celestial comforts, meet and kiss; Mankind's Redeemer, Oh Emanuel! Who in Man's shape on Earth were pleased to dwell. Receive my better part— are you prepared— Sol. We are. Sir Cham Charge me then home, I love to chew those Winter-plums, they are those Cordial comfits I accept, as sick Men do great Gallen Antidotes; methinks the Earth goes round Copernicus; thou didst relate a Truth, that Tellus ever hath an Ague Fit; Sol wrap thy Glorious Head within a Cloud, or if thou needs wilt view my Destiny, put on a Mask of Blood, Death is but Somnus Harbinger, we visit his All-peaceful Monarchy, ere we arrive at Heavens Golden Gates, where such as knock with a Religious Hand, do never miss of Entrance; Let me Embrace thee (George) ere I part hence, Thou wilt not long survive me— Shoot, Shoot. [They Embrace. Incomparable Strafford (see) I come To wait on thee in blessed Elysium. [They shoot. So, you have done it bravely, you are good Marks-Men, I applaud you for't even in Death— so many Passages are allowed my Soul, She knows not which to Issue out at, this Fabric of my Flesh now gins to Totter, like to some City (for it's People's Sins) rocked by the humorous Winds; what a fierce Combat is there now maintained betwixt my wounded Heart and mighty Mors, who grasps it b'twixt his Hands, squeezing it like a Sponge; so furious Boreas smites the Solid Oaks that on Mount Pelion grow, making them Nod like unto feeble Reeds, (George) thy Hand, my Twins of Light, have lost their wont Property, Death with his Icy-fingers seals them up: Farewell, Great CHARLES, I Die thy Loyal Servant. George, we shall meet some Minutes hence (I doubt not) in a place where all Joys enjoy one Centre; the World's great Architectresse never saw two of Her Sons Murdered so Barbarously after fair Quarter promised. Therefore great Jove, if thou lov'st Loyal Breath, Take vengeance on the Authors of my Death. Sir Geo. There cracked the Cords of Life, Oh noble Lucas! [He dies. let me breathe out my Soul, upon thy Azure Lips: So [Kisses him. Brave a complete Man, no Monsters (these excepted) would have Butchered; my turn is next, is it not? Sol. It is. Sir Geo. Nor would I purchase Life with one Entreaty, this Object so inflames me, I am grown weary of this Fleshly Weed, and fain would put it off, exchanging it for an Immortal Robe, Enveloped with Carbuncles, and Saphires— I, but to have our Lives bereft by a sharp violent Death, to Sleep in a thin shroud, involved in feigned Earth, our Nerves and Atteries shrunk up like singed Lute-strings, or the withered Wreath of some Famed Hero, made away in the dark for to converse with Worms, and half formed Creatures, such as the slime of Seven-Headed Nile, produceth by the aid of Phoebus' Beams: Oh! there's a Contemplation that would stagger the most resolved Spirit, but Destiny must be Obeyed, Death is still Death, though diversely inflicted: To have one's Throat sluiced with a Golden Knife, or to be thrust through with a Silver Sword, mitigates not the Wound, more than the sufferance. But Oh ye vengeful Furies of dark Hell! ye Three-fell Sisters of steep Erebus, awful Aenyo, all ye dreadful Hags ominous to Mortals, forsake your Black Cimmerian Cells, and with your steely Whips ascend the Earth, Lash, Lash Traitors to despair and Obliquy; let Strife, Contention, Fraud, Guile and deep horror seize on great Charles his Foes, severing their strength, and frustrating their Hopes till they sink lower, underneath their Treasons, than Plumets cast into the Baltic Sea: Now do your Office, I am prepared; Oh! you have [They shoot. put Balls of Wildfire in my Bowels, I am but all one Aetna; Farewell, base gloomy World, in which deluded Man, ravished with Toys, hunts after Bubbles; till them he break and vanisheth as he had never been, I sink beneath the burden of my own weight, would with my Fall, the Machiny of the World might be Unriverted and shaken to pieces, the Air commixed with Earth, the humid with the tumid Element, and active Fire contesting against them both, reducing all to the Original Chaos; but I contend in vain, the Gods created Man but for their sport, and its fit I should fulfil their Ends, wishing but not prevailing; I spy the pure Immaculate Soul of Lucas, Travailing through the Air to find a residence: Stay gentle Spirit, company is good, when tedious Journeys are prescribed, we'll both fix in one Sphere, when looking down, we will behold and smile. To see these seeming Saints, but real Friends, Fall by their devilishly devised Ends. 1. Sol. The Traitors both are Dead. [He dies. 2. Sol. Traitors, those are Traitors, whose most rigorous Doom, we have Obeyed, in Murdering these Brave Men. 3. Sol. How's is this? let's seize upon him. 1. Sol. Do, and make haste to most assured Damnation. 2. Sol. I am no longer of your Base Society; Heaven Pardon [Draws. what is past, my future Deeds shall amply expiate my former Crimes, the Blood of Noble Lucas, and Brave Lisle, On Rainsborow's base Head, I will requite, And send his Soul unto Eternal Night. Exit. 1. Sol. Let us remove the Bodies, and make after him. Exeunt, bearing the Bodies. The end of the Third Act. ACT IU. Enters Peter, with Mistress Lambert. Pet. THis he imposed as a Command, it hath not been my Practice to to solicit in Causes of this kind for other Men. Mrs. Lamb. Too soon you have made Trial of your skill; doth your Grave Habit suit with such Course Employment, Reverend Sir? Pet. Faith Mistress, among Friends, the outward Garb ought not to cause a Nicety: He is my Honoured Patron, took me half frozen from the Foodful Earth, and warmed me in his Bosom; and 'tis a dull Ingratitude in me not to reward his Bounty with my service: The Radiant Lustre of your Starlike Eyes, makes him to Bow as your Obsequious Vassal, whom Thousand count it Honour to Obey, so great an Influence hath your excellent Beauty upon his manly Faculties: He's now returned, decked with Triumphant Wreaths, from chase the Blew-bonnets to their Mountains, having taught that stubborn People, his Name can make the Genius of their Country tremble, the Politic Havilton is his Prisoner, all Knees bow to him, as Great Caesar's Rival, nothing doth want for to complete his Conquest, but your Assent to Love him. Mrs. Lamb. Why so I do, and all Men else that do retain his Temper. Pet. Your Love admits of too vast extent, I mean, can you Affect him so, as to admit him to your Bed? Mrs. Lamb. St. Winifrid forbidden it; you know (Sir) that I have a Lord and Husband, a Man made up of Magnanimity, whose Love is mixed with an Indulgent Care, should he but doubt of such an Injury, your Master, I myself, and all by him suspected, had better enter a Phalarian Bull, or stand the Thunder's shock— alas! I dare not. Pet. These are but Womanish Fears, Incident unto all your Sex; come you must yield to Love him, how should your Husband know of your Day Banquets, your Nightly Revels, and sweet Paphian sports? He's now in Lancashire, Disbanding Troops of Horse; or should some Wayward Fiend, convey the Knowledge of your stolen Embraces unto his Jealous Ear, my Master's Greatness, countermands his Fury, circled within his Arms, should Heaven, Earth, and Hell conspire to wrong you, 'tis sin to doubt a Danger: Consider (Lady) what a potent Friend, what Treasure, Honour, and content you'll gain (if Mundane Glories do Affect you) by yielding Love to him, whom other Dames of highest Blood and Fortune would sue for such a Favour. Mrs. Lamb. Although my inward Thoughts do tax my Levity, yet won with your most sugared Eloquence; I here yield all of mine, Lamb. calls his, unto your Master's Bosom. Crom. I accept it (Lady) nor shall my most delicious Paragon ever have cause for to Repent Her Favour, myself, my Sword, all under my Command, the spoils Enter Cromwell, having been seen to peep through the hang, during the Collequie b'twixt Pet. and Mrs. Lambert. of Nations, all that Earth can boast, shall at thy beck be proved for to be summoned (Pope● like) Bath thou thy delicate Body in Ass' Milk, commixed with Almond Flower, (with Cleopatra) dissolve inestimable precious stones in every Glass or luscious Wine thou drinkest, tread thou on Tyrian silks and Ermines skins let Art and Nature both, industriously conspire to sat thy lavish Wishes, my Treasure is Inexhaustible; Three Kingdoms (Dear) I grasp thus— in this Palm, their Riches and their Glories all are mine, the Goddess of the World my Patroness Fortune hath given all into my Hands; as for the Man (they call the King) he hath not Four and Twenty Hours to Live, I h've hired a Dapper Lad, a Neat-tongued (but inexorable Fellow) for Fifteen Hundred Pounds, to ease Him of the Burden of His Cares (good King) he's fit far to converse with Saints and Seraphims, than with Erroneous and Ambitious Mortals, and 'tis a sin (a grand one) for to deter the Hope's Celestials have for to enjoy His presence) my bradshaw's Brains do Brood, and hath discovered a Line of Law that never yet was talk on, which saith, If Kings do not obey their Subjects, they may chastise them with Imprisonment, Banishment, or Death; with him a Crew (whom I have ●ke in pay) do sit as Judges to make good this Maxim: My Bradshaw is grown Proud of his Great Office, ordered him for to be Clothed in Purple, all Heads for to stand bare on every Shoulder when the Lord Precedent (for so I have Created him) shall be in presence, his Co-adjutors all have Honour too; and when assembled, have no worse a Title then the High Court of Justice: These all are sworn for to fulfil my Ends, and Doom their King to Die; which once performed, than I am a Lord alone, though not a King by Title, yet by Power, and thou (my Dearest) shalt share Glories with me, thy Lovely Brows decked with a Coronet of Ophir Gold, inchas'd with Onyx stones; nor do thou dread thy Husband's Anger, his open Violence, or his Clandestine Plots, he is my Vassal merely at pleasure; and if I hear he but Repines at our Embraces, I'll spurn his Soul out with my Foot. (My Hugh) this Business was well managed, thou art a Fluent Orator, when Cyprian Venus, and her winged Son, waits at thy Elbow, this Service hath obliged me more unto thee then all thy former Industries. Pet. I am your humblest Creature. Crom. But why (my dearest Mistress) is that Face of yours (which even the Gods gaze at with greedy longing) obscured with sullen Mists? What sorrow claims a Superiority o'er your Harmonious Senses? Oh let not Care Blow Furrows in that Forehead! is (now) more smooth than Polished Ivory, or the true Turtles Feather; give but your Grief a Name, and if it lie in humane Power to ease you, resolve a speedy and a pleasing Remedy hasts to your Comfort. Mrs. Lamb. Sir, can you think my Heart is so Obdurate? Or that I can so soon be lost unto a Feminine Temper, as not to cogitate with what hasty Rashness I have extinguished Hymen's Tapers, which (some Hours since) Rivaled Sols Beams in Lustre, with what a forward Zeal I have infringed my Marriage Vow, and given away that which is none of mine? Oh Heaven! Pet. 'sfoot Sir, she's fallen into a Relapse; Kiss her Sir, (quickly) or she'll cool so fast, and her Heart freeze into so hard a Lump, not all your future Courtship or activity, shall be of force to melt her to your wishes. Crom. How stupid am I in these Amorous Arts Dear Mistress! let not Penitential Fancies (the spurious Issues of dull Melancholy) gain the least Power over your Faculties: What can you fear, while I dare be your Friend? Think on the Glories that I late proposed; all which shall be made yours, with eminent safety. Mrs. Lamb. I shall endeavour Sir, to bear myself as her that Loves and Honours you. Crom. Now thou singest sweetly, in a far more Melifluous Tone than Quires of Nightingales, and that this Temper never may forsake thee, our Time we'll spend in various Delights, such as Caligula, where he again on Earth would covet to enjoy; enter ye Six Prime Westminsterian Senators, Music, strike high, our Spirits to advance, While we do mingle in an Active Dance. Enter Six Masquers, Habited for Ambition, Treason, Lust, Revenge, Perjury, Sacrilege, Music; they Dance with them, join Cromwell and Mrs. Lambert, Peter singing out last, they Dance together by themselves. SONG. Let these Joys ever be in prime Nought but virture is a crime; Maugre the wise, Mean men must rise, Every Olimpiad of time. Taste them boldly, terrine pleasures, Yours is the Earth, and all its Treasures; Rifle, Plunder, And keep all under, Let Murmurers wait your leisures. Exeunt Masquers. Crom. This was performed as I would wish, now Sweet let's in for to complete our Happiness, and taste those Joys which Jove himself will Envy, knowing Agenor's Daughter, or Calisto, Inachian Io, or his blasted Semele, were not endued with Beauty so Immense as thee (my dearest Happiness) Set on unto the Chamber of delight, Do not Dream (Lambert) thou art Horned to Night. Excunt. Enter Fairf. Ireton, Rainsb. etc. Fairf. I need not advertise you Col. Rainsborow, not to be Implacably severe, against the refractory Chomly; or when you are sat down before that most impregnable Pontefract-Castle, to Storm more oft than rair advantages calls you to Action: Mars go along with you, I am for London with my Prisoners. Rains. My Lord, your humble Servant, Victory and Triumph ever wait upon you. Ire. Farewell Noble Col. [Exeunt Fairf. and Ire. Rains. Adieu, sweet Commissary. Alone, and in all haste to take my Journey, to so Remote an Angle of the Land, there to take charge of those I never saw, discard their General, and make myself their Leader, this is a strange Injunction, but I must do it. Enter his Servant. Hast thou delivered what I gave in charge? Seru. I have Sir; he will not fail punctually to perform it, and sent you, the true and exact relation (as near as he can gather) who were the Prime Promoters (of your unlookt-for) Journey. Rains. Let's to Horse, I'll Ride Twelve Miles this Night, they shall have no Cause to blame my Tardiness, away. Exit. Enter Blackburne (being the Soldier that escaped from amongst the Fairfaxians, with an intent to Kill Rainsborow, Act 3) with him Three Soldiers, their Pistols and Swords. Black. Hist, this way the Villain Posted, only his Man and he together; I hope the Divine Justice will not suffer him, for to escape our Hands; that way, that way. Exeunt. Enter Rains. and his Servant. Rains. We have quite lost the beaten Road— there let our Horses Graze a while; I feel strange Thoughts fight about my Heart, either my guilty Fancy did delude me, or I beheld the Ghosts of Lucas and of Lisle, all full of Wounds staring just now upon me, there! there! dost thou see nothing? Seru. Not I Sir; good Sir let us forsake this gloomy Glade, it presents Horror, and besides the Night is near half spent. Rains. A Grim, but Supine Terror clogs my Soul; Morpheus with's ieaden Mace Arrests my Senses, I needs must Sleep a while [Lies down Enter Blackburne and his Mates. Black. Kind Fates, I thank you; this is that cruel, Tiger (my Fellows) who contrived the much lamented Deaths of Generous Lucas, and of Valiant Lisle. Rains. Ha', who sent thee hither? [He rises up. Black. Thy Sins; I come to Kill thee. Rains. It is no easy Task that thou hast undertaken, I have an Arm as Vigorous as thine, a Pistol that will lighten ere it Thunders, a Sword too that ne'er yet forsook his Master in time of danger. Black. If thou but call to Mind thy Damned Treasons, thy Charnel Plots, and vile Conspiracies, thy Murders, Rapines, and fell Outrages, a Child of Seven Years Old, may quell thy Force and lead thee Captive in a. String; if thou darest think thy Numerous Crimes have not barred up the Door of Heaven against thee, pray be but speedy in thy Orisons, I have no mind to Kill thy Soul. Rains. Saucy Slave, think on thy own sad End; and either at my Feet implore Remission of thy Rash Attempt, or thou art Dead. Black. So brave, have at you Sir. They charge with their Pistols, Rainsborow 's Man falls; also one of Black. Confederates. Seru. This is Honour beyond thought to fall, or to survive my Masters second. Rains. Come on, Sir. Black. Though thou hast scaped my scalding Lead, my cooler Steel shall find a Passage to thy Heart. [They fight. Rains. Thou art not (sure) invulnerable, even Thetis Son was Slain by Phrygian Paris— but, Oh my guilt Hangs heavy on my Arm! and Impedes the Violence of my Blows— there [They fight. Black. Will you not sink, or have you many Souls that take their reign by turns? If it be so, I have so good a Cause, I cannot shrink beneath the Trenchant Blade, till by my single Force I have dismissed them all; there Dog— Rains. Injurious Destinies, have you enriched my Fame with many Victories over whole Troops of Men, for to permit my fall in the Catastrophe, by a most despicable Knapsack bearer, who Carves my Flesh as Butchers do their Meat, and boreas me till I grow transparent— Oh! my Blood drills like to some prodigious Spout, which Huswives set a tilt to cleanse their Linen— but shall I fall without Revenge— He falls Black. Oh! are you measuring out your length in Clay? You Twins of Valour, Lucas and Brave Lisle. Your heads, up from your earthly pillows rear, And see your Murderer lie weltering here. Rains. My Spirits faint, my Heart is sick to Death, I hold the panting lump betwixt my Teeth, but 'twill not brook to stay; let all those that have sought their Sovereign's Ruin, look upon me and my deserved Destiny, I would invoke the Powers above, but them I have so much exasperated, they'll stop their Ears to my complaints: Oh! die— Thou King of flames, let me in Sulphur swim Near to that cauldron, hold my Patron, Pim. [He dies. Black. Oh! dire and dreadful end, he's go to his own Home, (the cursed Dungeon) with as much willingness as holy Anchorites surrender their white Souls to Holy Angels, his Body we will throw in yonder Ditch for Beasts and Birds, to Prey on: I have some [They remove him Wounds, but none (I think) are Mortal. Come fellow Soldier, let us haste to shelter, this Deed when once Divulged, will be examined strictly— Beyond the Seas, for safety I will fly. Till England once more be a Monarchy. Exeunt. The end of the Fourth Act. ACT V. Enter Crom. with Mrs. Lamb. in their Night Robes. Crom. APollo is too hasty in his rise, and emulates my Happiness; had Jupiter enjoyed so rare a Creature as thyself (my dear) in his lascivious Arms, he would have charmed bright Phoebus to the East, and have united Day and Night in one, as when he Revealed 'twixt Amphitrios' Sheets; how likes my Love of her new Bed-fellow? Mrs. Lamb. You are as Valiant Sir, in those soft Skirmishes Venus expects in her Pavilion, as in those Deeds of Death, Mars doth approve of in his Tent of War. Enter Peter. Pet. Good Morrow to the most Renowned Crom. and his most Excellent Mistress; Sir, I this Morning have received a Letter directed unto you, I think it comes from Commissary Ireton. Crom. Some News of more than ordinary Consequence if it bare date from him. [He opens and reads the Letter. Lieut. General. THe deed is done, (which either ever makes, or mars us all) the King (according to the Doom of our high Court of Justice) this Morning lost his Head, Thousand of People being Spectators of his Tragedy: His Body we have given to the Duke of Richmond, to be disposed off as he thinks fit; the Vulgar (generally) are much enraged at it, and say (having proceeded so far in our Treasons against him, that we despaired of Pardon to preserve our own Lives, and to make ourselves Masters over them) we have Murdered the most Virtuous Prince in Europe at his own Door, but we shall Muzel the Mouths of that Many-headed Hydra e'er it be long; and in the mean time must resolve to keep what we have got by Frand and Force, by Oppression and Violence; we have Outlawed the Elder and Second Son of the dead King, and Proclaimed, That if ever they be taken on English Ground, they shall die without Mercy; we are now modelizing the Commonwealth, in the prosecution of which, both Soldiers and Senators, desire your Aid; this I was commanded to cettifie you; and had I not been commanded, it had been done of his own accord by Your assured Friend to serve you, IRETON. Crom. Then now I am above the reach of Fate, prepare (my Hugh) though not to be a Bishop, yet to dispose of a whole Diocese; you Lady (the sole Mistress of my Hopes) are yet untainted in your Husband's Thoughts, let him again Repose his Horned Head betwixt your Delicate Paps, I must with speed to London, whence I will send thee thy Lapful of Gold (my Danae) and Jewels Rich and Sparkling, for to Adorn thy only Eminent Beauty; nor shalt be long ere I in Person visit thee. Mrs. Lamb. Sir, you have Robbed me both of Honour, and my Heart at once; so strange a Fate doth sway me, that whatsoever you judge to be convenient, I must not contradict. Crom. Thou art as Wise as Beauteous, rest confident of my Fidelity, Farewell Star of the North. [Kisses her, she goes off Come (Hugh) let's post unto the Famous City, To sit in Council with the State Commit. Exeunt. Enter Chorus. Now all is lost to humane Sense, The King is Murdered on pretence, He was a Tyrant, and in Him Our Laws and Rights to Lethe swim, Buried for ever in his Death, Since they subsisted by his Breath. 1. See here, what would make Indians weep, 2. And force the Monsters of the deep; 3. Shed Tears into the Briny main, 4. And after drink them up again; 5. That which forced Sol to hid his Head 6. Pierced into Graves, and waked the dead; 7. And that which made the Angels hid He discovers behind the travers the Dead body of the King, also the Bodies of the Lord CAPEL, Hamilton, and Holland. 8. Their Faces (deep in Scarlet Died) 9 With their soft Wings, and doth compel 10. The Catholic to turn Infidel, 11. And to believe Presbyters john's, 12. And strictest Solifidians, 13. Are damned (even from their Cradle) since 14. They Murdered so Divine a Prince. These 14. Verses are spoken wholly in relation to the King's Murder. This Body, when possessed with Life [pointing to Hamilton Was the sole Causer of the strife, And Breach (which so our Land hath rend) Betwixt the King and Parliament; 'Twas he, that by his Hellbred Plots Decoyed the King amongst the Scots; Yet afterward (his own to hold) Sold Him to Traitors for their Gold; All this in hopes to win that Crown, Desire of which, hath brought him down Unto the Earth, slain (even by them) From whom he hoped a Diadem; His Soul the Furies mean to ply, With tortures to eternity. This Body when it it used to walk, [Pointing to Holland. Knew better how to Drab and Talk, To wear Gay Cloaths, and Compliment, Then to be wisely Eminent; For Loyalty unto his King His folly not, his Faith did bring Him to the Block. But here lies one, [pointing to the L. Capel. The Glory of his Nation, A Man of Valour, Virtue, Wit, Who Learning Loved, and clierisht it Without compare; his Charity Extended unto each degree, Ages and Sex, (had they no more But this one Devilish Act in store Of Murdering him) the Rebels (sure) Can not, yet eight Year more procure, To Reign by Blood, by Rapines, Horrors, Treason, inexplicable Terrors; But what the Fates allot we must Submit to, and in them we trust To see these Monsters fall and Rot, By God and Virtuous Men forgot. Exit. FINIS.