GRATIAE THEATRALES, OR A choice Ternary of ENGLISH PLAYS, Composed upon especial occasions by several ingenious persons; VIZ.  
THORNY-Abbey, or The LONDON-Maid; a Tragedy, by T.W.  
The Marriage-Broker, or The Pander; a Comedy, by M. W. M. A.  
GRIM the Collier of CROYDEN, or The Devil and his Dame; with the Devil and St. Dunstan: a Comedy, by I.T.  
Never before published: but now printed at the request of sundry ingenious friends.  
LONDON, Printed by R. D. and are to be sold at the sign of the Black Bear in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1662.   

To the accomplished Traveller, and Friend of the Muses, WILLIAM AUSTIN ESQUIRE.  
Sir,  
AFter you have with much expense, and greater pains, searched what the world hath worthy to enrich so ●ble a mind; you have given your 〈◊〉 now happy Country (because you 〈◊〉 returned) an essay of what it is to ●●●ct from your Pen, by the Poem consecrated to the immortal name of 〈◊〉 sacred Majesty. Sir, but that I ●ould not make you blush at your own 〈◊〉, I could tell you, how that 〈◊〉 seem to have been designed for 〈◊〉 exercise of your Pen, as the fittest 〈◊〉 the best of that sex, which command the whole world. Thus that ●●tertainment of Queen Christina of ●●●den at Rome had lost its best solemnity, had not she been famous by the large, but excellent Poem of yours, which so earnestly the learned world expects, and by me begs, that you would not deprive that work, and the world together of the light. But Si●, since you are the Ocean whence Wit springs, justly you may expect that other Wits should pay their tribute in thankful rivulets to your greatesse. To you therefore these Poems run as your due: but, were they not of themselves things of worth, your name prefixed had made them so. For there cannot want devotion to the building, where the frontispiece challenges so great a reverence, as all the world willingly pays to your name, but most particularly  
Your devoted Servant R.D.   

The Preface to the READER.  
Reader,  
I justly urge that common excuse for myself, that the importunity of some of my ingenious Friends forced me to publish this Ternary of Plays: which are wrote with so much ingenuity; that, though they were the Masterpieces of three several Wits, yet for the continued vein of vivacity and spirit, which runs through them, they seem to have been composed but by one head. That they are no spurious offspring, but the genuine product of noble Parentage, each will confes●, who views but with a transitory eye the lineaments of their composure. Wherein, I can assure you, and your own judgement will tell you, they will find nothing flat, low, nor sordid; nor yet any flatulent, puff-past, or enchanted Language, fitter to raise Melancholy Devils, then to excite a modest laughter: nay, even in the last of all, where bombast would, if ever, be proper, is so true a Decorum kept, that I know not whether any Plot was better suited with becoming language, or good language bestowed ever on a better Plot. I had once a fancy, there being three of them, to have entitled each to a particular G●ace; but when I considered, how those Goddesses were painted by the Ancients hand-in-hand, I was loath to do them so much injury as to part them: and indeed there being not a Play of them, wherein all the three Deities are not equally concerned, I thought it best to get them to stand goddess-mothers' jointly for all three, to whose Patronage, and your perusal, they are committed.   

To the READER.  
WHile that quaint Prologues th' Hearer's ears bewitch,  
'Tis, Reader, my design, your eyes to catch.  
Our aims in both alike; we to attain▪  
Applause do strive, and get a private gain.  
As cunning Fencers make at parts below.  
When they intent to give the Head the blow:  
So we do humbly court your ears and eyes,  
While 'tis your purse we aim at for our prize.  
A Play's commended, if the Stage be full,  
And what Book sells well, 's never counted dull.  
Thus do the Actor's and Book●●ller'● gains  
Give the best judgement of the Poet's brains.  
Then ne'er inquire how these Plays have took,  
But buy them quickly, and commend the Book●  
R. D.   

To his worthy Friend Mr R. F. upon his publishing his Ternary of English Plays.  
BElieve me, Friend, when t'other night you lent  
Your Plays to read, I thought my time well spent:  
For, though I would not play my time away,  
I would pass time to read a well-penned Play.  
And such are yours, in which all things so fit  
Th' Decorum both of judgement, and of Wit;  
That, though unposted yet, nor with applause  
Or acted here or there, the Comic Laws  
Are in them so well kept, that hence you may,  
Were they all lost, pick plat-forms for a Play.  
Nor need you doubt, in this our Comic Age,  
Welcome acceptance for them from the Stage:  
For, if 'tis true the Proverb doth express,  
That 
⸫ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  He's best Prophet, who doth nearest guess,  
This I'll dare to foretell, although no Sear,  
That Thorny-Abbey will out-date King LEAR;  
And Captain HOG his old Trade would give o'er,  
When his Play's acted, might he keep the Door;  
And who in GRIM spies not both wit and pains,  
Needs Robin's flail to beat it into's brains.  
But if in webs so fine the lists chance shrink,  
When you compare them▪ somewhat; or you think.  
That I Hyperbolise more than is fit:  
Excuse my judgement, and accuse my Wit.  
THEATRO-PHILOS.   

THE PROLOGUES To the ensuing Plays.  

A Prelude to THORNY-ABBEY.  Enter a Fool with a Paper in his hand for a Prologue. Fool. 
HA! ha! I'm come now at last, or at first, which you will: for I am first here. D'ye call't a Tragedy? so they tell me it is, and that no fools must be in Tragedies: for they are serious matters, forsooth. But I say there may, and there must be fools in Tragedies, and you call them Tragedies, or there will be no Tragedies. And I tell you more, they are all fools in the Tragedy; and you are fools, that come to see the Tragedy; and the Poet's a fool, who made the Tragedy, to tell a Story of a King and a Court, and leave a fool out on't; when in Pacy's, and Sommers's and Patche's, and Archer's times, my venerable Predecessors, a fool was always the Principal Verb; and, as I suppose, was so too long b●fore that; and, as I suppose, when Thorny buil● his Abbey●oo ●oo; I, and as I suppose, we shall by his good leave, or without it, continue so still to the end of the Chapter. But, now I talk of the Principal Verb, I have a part to say to you, if the Prompter would come to tell me, when I am out.  Enter Prompter, and takes the Fool 's Paper, and stands behind him. Fool. 
We're to present you— (Ha! ha! he thinks I have pigs in my belly.)  Prompter. 
Sirrah! go on▪ We're to present you—  Fool. 
I won't have't nonsense We're to present you— but I'll have't I am to present you—  Prompter. 
And what are you to present them, I pray?  Fool. 
A P— a P— a P— a Pickpocket.  Prompter. 
A fool's head: are not you? a Pickpocket, quoth he; a Prologue you mean.  Fool. 
Why? I was sure, it began with a P. And though you will have it a Prologue, I say, it is a Pickpocket too, I and a Pickpocket Prologue too: for ask 'em, if all their pockets be'nt the worse for it.  The Prompter offers to strike him, and he runs in. Prompter. 
Though he's unready in's part, I dare say,  
He did intend to bid you Welcome to our Play,  
What more he had to tell you in his mind,  
I find not by the Notes h'has left behind:  
But within gather from their studied parts,  
And ti●ing-habits, they will use their arts,  
To show how Royal blood's revenged when spilt,  
And THORNY-Abbey first came to be built,  
A place for great devotion of much fame,  
Which since to Westminster hath changed its name.  
Then, if you'll silent sit, and mum not say,  
The Actors enter, and begin the Play.   

The Epilogue to Thorny-Abbey.  
AFter so grave a Scene, since 'twere not fit  
For to unhinge your thoughts with flashy Wit;  
Or when the King and Court in mourning's clad  
For Thorny's death, that you alone be glad,  
Lest you approve yourselves a kin to those,  
Who sooner than comply with, Kings depose:  
Th'old Hermit's Doctrine only we'll apply,  
And teach you from a Stage to learn to die,  
Whose Monumental Lesson, though 't be true,  
That death betides to Men, and 
⸫ Here the Candles are putting out.  Tapers too,  
Yet this one favour we do hope you'll give.  
Through your Applause that this our Play may live.   

The Prologue to the MARRIAGE-BROAKER.  
YOu, who are seated, and for entrance pay,  
I bid you hearty Welcome to our Play.  
A Play span-new, and ne'er yet on the score  
For th' Poet's faults, or what's the Actors more.  
We therefore hope 'twill please: and reason good▪  
Since 't doth present no tale of Robin Hood,  
No musty Story dressed in Phrases new;  
And yet you'll find in't Wit and Language too.  
It's subject is well known, a common Vice,  
Made up of Riot, and foul Avariee:  
For when a Roister spends his fair Estate,  
And penny-less'gins to repent too late,  
His first-fetched project how again to thrive,  
Is ●ast about how richly he may Wive,  
This soon is broke to some, whose reaching Wits  
Can well contrive, and's conscience wrinkled sits:  
Who, out of hope to share the prey, about  
Soon plods, and finds the youth a Mistress out.  
The Match soon made▪ they're married with all speed:  
But hasty Weddings soon contention breed.  
Our Play lays open every wile and gin  
Whereby they coaks and draw the Fein●les in:  
The● be attended and since far armed fore warned.  
How to beware such guiles may hence be learned.   

The Prologue to GRIM the Collier of CROYDEN.  
YOu're Welcome: but our Plot I dare not tell ye,  
For fear I f●ight a Lady with great belly:  
Or should a Scold be 'mong you, I durst say,  
she'd make more work, than th'Devil, in the Play.  
Herd you not never how an Actor's wife,  
Whom he▪ fond fool, loved dearly as his life,  
Coming in's way did chance to get a jape,  
As he was ' tired in his Devil's shape,  
And how aquivocal a generation  
Was then begot, and brought forth thereupon?  
Let it not fright you; this I dare to say,  
Here is no lecherous Devil in our Play.  
He will nor rumple Peg, nor joan, nor Nan,  
But has enough at home to do with Marian;  
Whom he so little pleases, she in scorn  
Doth teach his Devilship to wind the Horn.  
But if your children cry when Robin comes,  
You may to still them bu● here Pears or Plums.  
Then sit you quiet all, who are come in,  
St. Dunstan will soon enter, and begin.    

THORNY-ABBEY, OR The LONDON-MAID.  
A TRAGEDY, Written by T. W.  
LONDON, Printed in the year 1662.   

The Persons who, are represented in THORNY-ABBEY.  

Sibert Earl of Coventry.  
Emma, his Wife.  
The Earl of Wiltshire.  
The KING.  
Lucius, a Bishop.  
Prince Edmund, the King's Brother.  
Ann, Daughter to old Thorny.  
Lobster, old Thorny's Man.  
joan, his Maid.  
Old Thorny.  
Mr. Woodford, his Cousin.  
Gaufreid, an Attendant on Prince Edmund, and his Pander.  
Two Murderers.  
The King's Guard.  
Pages to the King. A Post.  
A Constable with Beadles attending.  
Chorus with dumb Shows.  
Two Citizens, overseers of Thorny's Will.  
Abbess of Haly-well.  
Edmund, the King's base Son by Ann, old Thorny's Daughter.   
The Scene LONDON.   

THORNY-ABBEY, Or The London Maid.  Ent. Sibert Earl of Coventry. Emma. The Earl of Wiltshire meeting them. Sibe. 
GOod day and welcome too my Lord of Wiltshire.  Wilt. 
Most Noble Sibert, Earl of Coventry,  
Our good King lunges to see you.  Sib. 
Is he alighted?  Wilt. 
Yes Sir, & at your Castle-gate he stands,  
Cloyd with Petitioners, from whose humble hands  
He fills his own with papers of complaints,  
Still promising redress and comfort to them.  Sib. 
he's a right gracious Prince: the fire of Hell  
Consume the Slaves and their petitions,  
For Sibert is not free from their complaints:  
I fear our ruins.  Emma. 
Why should Sibert fear?  
The King, nor all the Land can wrong thee here.  Sib. 
A thousand hearts must bleed first: hark he comes.  Enter King, Bishop, Prince Edmund, Earl of Wiltshire, Attendants. King. 
Oh me, good Heavens, what strange petitions  
Have these poor people here delivered us?  
Command them all to morrow here attend us,  
Where we will answer their petitions.  
Renowned Sibert, Earl of Coventry,  
To you and your virtuous Lady her●,  
For some few days we must be troublesome.  Sib. 
Great King, my State, my Castle, self & all  
Here in obedience at your feet shall fall.  King. 
We thank you both.  
Come Brother Edmund take your place by us.  
Good Bishop Lutius, rest your Reverend age:  
And you good Earl of Wiltshire counsel us  
To work the Commons safety of the Land,  
And weigh all doubts with an impartial hand;  
Only for this our resolution makes  
A progress through the Land, with our own eyes  
To look into the State's inormityes.  Sib. 
'Twill be a deed worthy your ear and care.  King. 
So had'it need, good Sibert, for we here intent  
To see the poor man's wrongs paid with redress▪  
And let not great thiefs swallow up the less.  Wilt. 
It is not well my Liege, for since you came  
From your Court at London still you see  
Corruption like a loathsome leprosy  
Hath made the fair face of aged ancestry  
Deformed and hateful. Temples, erected only  
To holy uses, are now for thrift turned into barne● and stables.  Edm. 
'Twere fit for to reform them.  
Royal Brother, such ulcers found  
Must needs be cut, lest they corrupt what's sound.  King. 
Such & far worse the sad complaints here speak:  
But by my Crown we'll have them all removed.  
Brother, back you to London to your Earldom,  
And in our name, summon all the Citizens  
Unto a general Council, and there make  
A striced inquiry both of all offences, and  
The Offenders see that you punish.  Bish. 
Happy is England in so blest a King,  
Whose only pleasure is his Subjects safety,  Edm. 
Ourselves will play the thrifty husbandman,  
And pluck the rank weeds from the fruitful earth,  
That Justice may manure our tillage so,  
That Peace may spring and Equity still grow.  King. 
And herein shall you do yourself much right;  
For know, my Brother, all my studies be  
To banish vice, and call back exiled virtue,  
And but to leave it quietly to Thee,  
That art true heir to all our Sovereignty.  Edm. 
Which care if it fall on this tender unapt prop,  
I shall with patience bear the heavy load,  
And with my care break my now quiet sleep,  
And let my eyes and ears still open be  
To hear and see with pure integrity.  King. 
Brother be gone;  
You are the Earl of London; let us see  
The City by your care so ordered be,  
That no oppression wrong her: pray be careful.  Edm. 
Brother I shall, and so I take my leave  
For to redress in what I can the wrongs  
Of the poor wretches that with bended knees  
Throw down their wrongs & prayers all at once.  
Oh, may their ear be deaf that stops their ears  
Against the poor, that plead with suppliant tears. Exit.  King. 
Be it your charge, good Sibert, to proclaim  
In all the government you hold of us;  
As Gloster, Worster, Warwick, Coventry,  
That all oppressed people may repair  
Here to your Castle, where we'll do them Justice.  Sib. 
I shall my Liege. the Devil shall dam 'em first,  King. 
Keep carefully those papers, they contain  
Several complaints, for whose redress ourselves  
Will this day sit in Counsel to determine.  
Believe me Lords, that Prince whose fair example  
Draws other to be good, may justly claim.  
His people's love and live in books of Fame. Exit.  Sib. 
So then I see in this the threatening storm is come,  
And points at me, which we must cast to shun,  
So all those ills he means to punish now:  
My Conscience tells me I have in some sort acted:  
Tush, what of that, who dares accuse me for't.  
Say, on my back I wear the poor man's sweat;  
My power and greatness might have borne that out,  
But that this virtuous King in this bad age  
Will needs be good, and here in my own house  
Grant some access unto the multitude,  
That all with base exclaims as loud as thunder,  
Accuse my actions, and in them my life.  Ent. Emma. Em 
Come Sir, I have overheard your passion;  
Take my counsel, let not the name of King  
Dishearten Thee, or strike amasing terror to thy heart!  
Were it ten Kings that should o'erturn my State,  
I'd work my safety out of all their ruins.  Sib. 
Oh, He or I must down.  Em. 
Then let him die.  
There is no other way to set you free.  Sib. 
Thou hast awaked me, and I must confess  
Thy cousel though through danger points at safety,  
And I will take't in time: the King shall die.  
To save my life is soundest Policy. Exit.  Ent. Anne, Lobster, joan. Io. 
You lay all on me, Lobster.  Lob. 
And I should lay all my wait on thee, joan, thou must  
Not refuse it, for thou know'st, women are born to bear.  Io. 
ay, but not such burdens.  Lob. 
Nay, and you bear not me, you'll ne'er bear child  
I warrant you joan.  An. 
So Sir, what discant can you make.  Lob. 
ay, young M i●, but it is upon the plain old Song  
That every one desires to sing a part in.  Io. 
You have it without book, Mr Lobster  Lob. 
Oh, by the book in any case, it must be pricked to them.  An. 
Very well Sir, whatsoever maids bear, they must be sure  
To bear your knavery, for thou art never loaden with that.  Lob. 
Or else I were worse than clean linen, Mris,  
For maids use to bear that.  Ent. Old Thorny and Woodford. Th. 
Come Cousin Woodford,  
Are you not weary with my long discourse.  Wo. 
By my good hopes I swear, unless your change  
Will interrupt me with some other matter,  
I shall find naught to talk on, but my daughter.  Th. 
I tell you Sir, her duty, modesty and huswifry  
Are such large themes and so delightful to me  
As I can speak no other.  Wo. 
Sir you do that which all tongues else proclaim,  
Your daughter is the mirror of this City:  
And nothing that is good can glut my ears: beside  
Your talk hath made the way seem short,  
For see we are upon them: see your man Sir.  Th. 
he's kissing of my maid, by the mass, how now Lobster?  
What are you doing Sirrah?  Lob. 
The clothes are dry Sir, and joan and I am a foulding.  Th. 
Thou art folding her in thy arms, me thinks; away knave.  
'Tis well done girl: and hark you, Mr Woodford,  
I have already vowed a single life,  
Chiefly to give her all unto her portion.  
Oh, it would joy my heart to see her well-bestowed,  
That she might keep my name alive unto posterity:  
She shall have rich possessions to endow her  
To a good husband.  Ent. Edmund and Ga●foord. Wo. 
Her face without possessions will deserve.  Th. 
St. Cousin, what honourable Persons have we here?  
Fore heaven, it is my Sovereign's brother, Noble Edmund,  
The Earl of London, our gracious Lord,  
He must not pass without my duty: health to your Grace.  Edm. 
Our thanks good Thorney justice is now impeached,  
And is arraigned by fell oppressors,  
And craves you as a prop for to uphold here.  Th. 
A weak decaing prop, my noble Lord.  Edm. 
In this small schedule is a mass of wrongs  
Which cry for a redress; be it your care to summon  
All that are oppressed, for to repair to the Earl of Coventry;  
There to give up their grievances.  Th. 
It shall be speedily performed my Lord.  Edm. 
A heavenly prospect! what fair Creature's that?  Wo. 
His daughter.  Th. 
My only Child, my Lord; even all the fruit  
That heaven, that time, and death hath left unpluct  
From this old sapple-tree.  Edm. 
It is a fair one Sir: what sudden fire is this,  
That shoots through all my veins? 'tis scorching heat,  
'Tis of aspiring flame, and through my eyes  
Shoots a hot lustful fire, that must be quenched  
In yonder Sea of pleasure; no trick yet— I have't.  
Sir you have a fair ring here, trust me,  
I never saw a richer in my eye, troth  
'Tis a fair one, or else my fancy wrongs me;  Th. 
You praise it to the best, my Lord, and yet I love it;  
This gift did part my loving wife and me.  
Peace with her Spirit, and yet my honoured Lord,  
I am no scrupulous Idolater, to keep such notes  
To my perpetual vows: it shall be yours.  Edm. 
This courtesy for ever binds me to you:  
I will in some measure gratify your kindness,  
Pray in exchange accept this ring of mine.  Th. 
Be your own Chapman Sr: please you bestow it,  
I'll wear it for your sake.  Edm. 
With all my heart:  
Knewsed thou the sequel of this rings entreaty,  
Thou wouldst have been more nice in parting with't.  
But I forget me, I must to the King.  Th. 
We shall attend your grace.  Edm. 
Led on, i'll follow you. Exit.  
Gaufreid, 'tis thou must make me fortunate:  
Thou seest you Ceature: go to her by this ring;  
I blush to speak the rest: hark in thy ear.  
You know the purpose Sir.  Gauf. 
Perfectly my Lord, and I'll practice it.  Edm. 
Oh! that we should not fear to do those things  
We shame to speak of, but the fire is kindled,  
With once suppressed, flames with the greater force.  
Silence contains more passion than can be  
Expressed in any rhapsody of words.  
Deep floods run still: when those that murmur  
Are of a shallow slight profoundity.  
I know that my desire is ill; yet cannot I  
Desist from my foul purpose; for my bounded course  
Of humane reason overflows their banks,  
And runs disorderedly through all my veins:  
Frail flesh is weak, and reason stepped aside,  
Our spring of goodness needs must puddled glide. Exit.  Gauf. 
Fair greetings beauteous Virgin;  
By his commands your father thus salutes you.  An. 
It was my mother's ring, I know it Sir;  
And his commends is a command to me:  
What his pleasure pray you.  Gauf. 
That you accompany me unto himself,  
To whom I am charged to conduct you presently.  An. 
My duty is obliged to his command;  
Nay I'll not question, but attend his pleasure.  
Go Sirs, get home your clothes, & let your cares  
Be diligent in house till my return.  Io. 
Will you dispatch?  Lob. 
Yes Joan, and you'll take up your clothes once, the baskets are ready.  Io. 
You shall carry it then.  Lob. 
I warrant the wench, I have a carriage  
That will carry home, i faith, if it be discharged once.  Io. 
I have heard so.  Lob. 
Never fear that faith wench:  
You had not best make too much haste Mris.  
Do you here, you Courtier, she's the flower of the City,  
And therefore use her well, I pray: and 'twere not  
For this Porter's office, I would trust none of you all Exit.  
With her. Go forward Joan: here's a fine world,  
When the cart must go afore the horse:  
A man to come poking thus behind a woman.  
My M ris. is gone before joan, you shall go behind;  
I'll put you in before another time. Exit.  Ent. Emma and Sibert. Em. 
The night grows old; we must dispatch and kill him.  Sib. 
True Emma, for ere to morrow's breath  
Our lives do hang in fearful hazard.  Em. 
Think then what follows.  Sib. 
Nothing but this, that thou observe my vow,  
Which this night here I make in sight of heaven,  
And call the powers both good & bad to hear it;  
By Sibert's soul I'll never see the Sun,  
Till the King die, and this black deed be done;  
Let hell record my vow, the King shall die;  
This night concludes his horrid tragedy.  Em. 
Enough, I'll show thee then these instrumental hands  
That shall perform it: see Sibert, here they are,  Ent. Two Murderers. 
With resolution more strongly armed then with their hands.  1 Murd. 
That's worth a thousand weapons.  Sib. 
I like their looks, they have no sign of pity.  2 Murd. 
Pity? a pox of pity; pity's for babies.  
Say but the word, and I'll wipe out pity, sheath this weapon in your side.  Sib. 
The deed once done I'll load you both with gold.  
But where will you hide the body when he's dead?  Em. 
Know this my Lord; here by the uncouth cavern of a wall,  
A solitary brook doth glide along,  
Which we have turned from forth his proper course,  
And in the midst o'th' channel digged a pit,  
Where when the murdered King is once entombed,  
The nimble current shall be brought again,  
And overrun the royal Sepulchre:  
This being done, what bloodhound, or what art  
Can find the body some fifty fathom laid  
Beneath the river?  1 Murd. 
This is brave my Lord.  Sib. 
Beyond comparison▪ I admire thee Emma.  
Go, conduct them to the chamber secretly,  
And when the King's asleep.  2 Murd. 
He never wakes.  Sib. 
Follow my Lady then.  B▪ Murd. 
We'll bear her company. Ex. unt.  Sib. 
So, so; ha, ha, he! sleep Lord secure,  
Until the horrid shrieks of a King's murder wake thee.  
Night yet thou art smooth, and look'st upon us with a  
Smiling eye: keep still thy golden cheek;  
Be not thou sick, for under casualties;  
The Eclipse is past, that was the Herald to this fatal hour,  
Some eight months since; or if thou wilt frown on us  
We can not be out dared; who's there;  Ent. Emma. 
My Emma, speak is all prepared.  Em. 
All to the life, my love.  
The murderers placed; the King's a bed.  
His first sleep is his last.  Sib. 
Excellent sentence.  
Hast thou the Postern key to convey them forth▪  
To bear the body to the place appointed?  Em. 
Think you that any thing I could forget  
That holds dependence on so deep an action?  Sib. 
Good: obscure yourself until the watch be past,  
Whose company I'll keep to night; & hear you,  
See you remember still to urge the murderers  
When all's dispatched to fly the Land with speed,  
Till wonder be worn out.  Em. 
Till fear be under foot; I'll forget nothing. Exit.  
The Gard's upon the round, I hear them coming.  Ent. Wiltshire and Garde. Gard. 
Stand; who's there?  Sib. 
A friend, and your kind fellow, Gentlemen;  
The Lord of this poor mansion, whose watchful duty cannot sleep to night.  Gard. 
My Lord of Coventry.  Sib. 
Nay, lay by all Titles; I'll partake your travels;  
I'll tell you Sirs, it is my honour's test  
That nothing do disturb the quiet sleep  
Of my most Royal Liege: you shall accept me a companion,  Wilt. 
Your Honour do express yourself most noble,  
To give attendance in a personal duty,  Sib. 
'Tis fit it should be so; 'tis my Castle,  
And I can guide you through all the turns  
And angles of the Court, and as you find my care,  
So make report.  Will't. 
I shall attend your Lordship: another with the lights. Exeunt.  Ent. Murderers with the body, Emma meeting them. 1 Murd. 
Tread softly, you slave.  Em. 
O happy sight! is't done?  2 Murd. 
This does confirm it.  Em. 
Did he not shrick?  1 Murd. 
'Sfoot, do you think we gave him warning?  2 Mard. 
No, we took him unnawares; he prayed devoutly  
When he went to bed, as if he meant never to  
Wake again; no sooner was he laid, but ere his eyes  
Had closed their fleshy windows of their light,  
But we stepped in, and with the pillow stopped his mouth,  
Lest with his clamorous cries he should have raised the house;  
Or by his prayers won us to pity;  
Him then with these poniards  
Yet reeking with his blood we pierced his heart,  
Cut off his tedious prayer.  Em. 
Here, take this key, and by the Postern bear it to the pit  
Digged in the river bottom, which being covered,  
we'll turn the water to his former course;  
Then make for safety, till the storm be past,  
And we are all secure. Here's more gold for you.  2 Murd. 
Look you be silent, and ne'er fear our safety.  1 Murd. 
It shall never be revealed for us.  Em. 
Was ever murder done and hid so rarely?  
The body buried in the river's bottom.  
What policy of men can ever find it?  
Ha! who is't that speaks so loud? crack the clouds?  
This crying seen is not yet heard in heaven, I hope:  
Is it for that this dreadful voice of thunder  
Rolls through the black enraged Elements,  
And wraps this bright diapome in fire:  
Or are these sounds the knelling obsequies  
You use to keep at a King's Funeral? if so,  
King treason out, but only this I bar,  
Wake not the dead, nor name the Murderer.  Exit. Ent. Bishop and Wiltshire, Sibert meeting them. B. Lu. 
Angels defend us! what a night is here?  Sib. 
How now my Lords, you have had ill rest to night.  Will't. 
Who but the dead can sleep in such loud summons?  
The blessed powers defend us: 'tis most fearful.  B. Lu. 
We come to see the King in this sick hour.  Sib. 
And for that only cause, my Reverend Lords,  
We draw our care so nigh his Highness' chamber,  
That had he called, we had attendant been  
To furnish his desire: but sure he wakes not.  Will't. 
And sure he sleeps not; let's to his chamber.  Sib. 
With all my heart. See here comes my Lady.  Ent. Emma. B. Lut. 
Alas! good Lady, waked from your bed with thunder?  Em. 
Oh! who can rest in such a dreadful hearing?  
When every crack of thunder that breaks forth  
Seems as if heaven would fall upon our heads.  Will't. 
Noble Lady, accompany us to the King's bedchamber.  Em. 
With all my heart. I'm sorry he's thus disturbed.  Will't. 
Softly, least being not yet awaked,  
We fright his Highness with our sudden coming.  
Ha! the bed empty: his Highness sure is up.  
My Lord, my Liege, ha! no answer?  B. Lut. 
Strengthen me heaven! lights here a little:  
Is not this blood?  Sib. 
Ha, blood! more lights.  Will't. 
I fear my royal blood, my Lord, my Liege, my King.  Sib. 
Cry treason louder than this voice o'th' thunder.  
'Tis that that he hath all this while proclaimed,  
And we dull animals could not perceive it.  
Treason, murder, treason.  All. 
Treason, murder, treason.  Sib. 
Call for the Pages; raise up all the Court.  
And hollow treason through out every room.  
Oh! who is he hath stained my Loyalty,  
And made my house the author of this treason?  Ent. Pages. Will't. 
Be patient Sibert; here come the Pages,  
Let's examine them.  Page. 
Where's the King?  Sib. 
Who's that that speaks so drowsily? base villains!  
When blood of Kings besmears the Royal bed.  Page. 
Ha, the King's murdered! my Royal Master!  
Thy loss is our decay.  Sib. 
Die Loyal traitors, you have murdered him. Kills them.  
O'er take him Slaves, or hide your guilt in hell.  Will't. 
Alas my Lord! you do you know not what.  Sib. 
Do you uphold them; take heed, tempt not your spotless  
Loyalties with any scrupulous thought; I would fain believe  
That you were as myself, right loyal.  Amb. 1. 
That shall be seen Sir, in our diligence.  Sib. 
You talk but nothing do, search for the body,  
If we find that, we soon shall find the traitors.  
Search every room; the body is not far;  
The murderer will be found: black deeds of hell!  
Who was the author.  Exit Sibert and Emma. Em. 
Those that will not tell.  Will't. 
This is a horrid night.  Bish. 
To kill the Pages unexamined, these are not just proceedings.  Will't. 
I do not blame his loyalty, but his rage,  
That in their deaths, we should have questioned  
Prevents the means of our discovery.  Bish. 
This night is fatal, for 'tis hatched in blood.  Will't. 
Heaven cease this thunder, 'tis a time of sorrow:  
But come my Lord, think of the Kingdom's safety.  
First let us resolve with swiftest speed  
To greet the Earl of London,  
Royal Prince Edmund, with thi● heavy news.  Bish. 
As 'tis most fit. See here's Sibert.  Ent. Sibert. Sib. 
No marvel though the heavens speak in thunder  
To see anointed blood spilt on the earth!  
And in my house! oh heavens!  Will't. 
Nay good my Lord forbear.  Sib. 
Did not I tell you that those drowsy Pages  
Whom this hand slew (& I thank heaven for it)  
Were the tour traitors, perhaps hired to do it.  Lut. 
That we would have found my Lord.  Sib. 
I would my heat of rage had given you leave;  
I do repent it now, but 'tis most certain;  
For that the Postern gate, whose keys they had in keeping,  
Was now found open; tax me to any pains  
To find this treason; set me down half the world  
For my own travail, I'll bring the Traitor forth  
Or ne'er return.  Lut. 
Use your care, whilst we send post away.  
This night's the worst that ever covered day.  Exit Will't. and Bishop Lut. Sib. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; the best to me: So, so.  
Speak louder thunder, make a more horrid night:  
Conscience is not at home thou canst not fright:  
Cry Traitor still, though I thy meaning know.  
Here's none that understands thou call'st me so.  Exit. Ent. Edmund and Anne. Edm. 
Nay, do not grieve.  An. 
Can you allow me less than tears, my Lord?  
Oh, what a noble Traitor have you proved  
In that deceiving ring, that brought me to you?  Edm. 
When I beheld this glorious frame of Nature;  
This ever praised, yet never praised enough.  
Proportion, O what a sudden passion I was in?  
The Queen of love drew forth a fie●y shaft  
And shot my breast, which rankle did so sore  
The more I let it rest it raged the more,  
Till from the store-house of my hatching brain  
This balsam of remedy I distilled,  
And cured the wound: this rich Ambassador  
Discovered to me more than the Indies wealth.  An. 
Oh! what a jewel then beyond esteem  
Have I then lost, which gold can ne'er redeem?  Edm. 
That is not lost, that is repaid with love,  
Such is our fair exchange: had some rude slave  
Polluted thy white soul with ugly lust,  
Thou then hadst cause to grieve; but my desire  
Was free from the least baseness: what I have borrowed  
Of thy maidenstore, I will repay, and with a husband's love  
Give satisfaction: nay weep not, good sweetheart.  An. 
A pretty Epitaph for wantoness to congratulate withal.  
You did salute me with a sweeter name  
Than I imagine this sweetheart to be:  
But you have robbed me of it.  Edm. 
Nay lovely maid.  An. 
Were it heavens will, would I had kept that name.  Edm. 
Would you have then engrossed perfection,  
And like a usurer have hoarded up  
The Princely jewel of your maidenhead?  
And let pale death have been your husband?  
You were created that from you should spring  
The world's increase; then would you most unkind  
Altar what you were made for? 'tis  
A husband you must have: and if't be so,  
Why not as good me, as another man?  An. 
If you want no vail to shadow, Sir,  
How many have you caught within this snare?  
Am I the first?  Edm. 
Yes, by this blessed air;  
Nor art thou caught in any lustful net,  
But in a sacred matrimonial band,  
Which we have registered in heavens white book,  
Where all the sacred Hymeneal oaths  
Are writ in golden Characters,  
And there are mine recorded; then 'tis no snare,  
Nor incest can it be, thou art my wife.  An. 
Before I yielded up my virgin's name  
You swore no less. Oh heavens! do not you think  
The air is troubled for our private sin.  
This thunder tells me, we have angered heaven.  Edm. 
Sweetheart,  
It is the years due order, and the air  
Through heat and sulphur sends the thunder cracks:  
Thou wilt be missed at home; I prithee haste unto thy father's house.  An. 
Oppressed with shame.  Edm. 
In troth I shall be angry with thee sweet,  
If thou continue in these fond delirements;  
Can there be shame in matrimonial rites?  
Thou art my wife, and here I felt with these  Kisses her. An. 
Had you sealed no otherwise with me,  
I could have born the impression willingly,  
And called again for more security.  Edm 
Thou shalt ere long embrace me lawfully;  
The Priest shall join our hands with our true hearts:  
My business calls me; hence I must be gone,  
But leave my heart for ever, sweet, with thee.  An. 
As good as nought; how ere both sin and shame  
I bear for thy sweet sake, my lost good name,  
My father's anger, all is for thy sake.  
If thou proof false, and that for grief I die,  
'Tis for thy sake, and shall do't willingly. Exit.  Edm. 
Farewell thou soul of virtue.  Ent. Thorney and Woodford. 
Now Master Thorney.  Thor. 
Health to you Sir: I have according to your good appointment  
Caused all the Commons that are oppressed with wrong,  
For to repair to the Earl of Coventry's Castle,  
Whereat your Princely Brother keeps his Court  
To show their grievances, and 'gainst whom they complain  Edm. 
You have been careful, Master Thorney,  
And in it shows the duty of a Subject,  
For 'tis a perilous time.  Thor. 
ay, I, my Lord, a mostrous stormy time,  
For since my birth I never heard the like:  
This many a day we have not seen the Sun,  
But still continual thunder frights the earth;  
What this portends, he that's the cause,  
Best knows.  Ent. A Post. Edm. 
True Mr Thorney, and 'tis not fit for us to question his intents.  
Thy news! why dost thou look so pale.  Post. 
Oh my Liege, I come to sing to you a screech ou'ls note,  
That will affright your hearing: your Brother Sir.  Edm. 
What of him?  Post. 
He is  Edm. 
Dead?  Post. 
How apt you are  
To pluck the mishapped embryo of mischance,  
Ere it be fully moulded from the womb:  
He's dead my Liege, and murdered.  Edm. 
Murdered, how?  Post. 
In his bed, my Liege: by whom is yet unknown.  Edm. 
Then this the cause is that the heavens so scold  
And rend the clouds with fearful thunder cracks  
I'll find the murderer, though I search the centre,  
And from the earth pluck the abhorred caitiffs.  
Let all the passages be strongly guarded:  
For till the mutherous villains be brought to light,  
We still shall live in this perpetual night. Exit.  Ent Sibert and Emma. Sib 
Oh conscience! thou art a mortal wound to murderers  
No balm can give thee ease: oh! this dread thunder  
Will never cease his loud amasing terror  
Till this most fearful murder be revealed.  Em. 
Art thou a man, and keep'st such cowardly apprehension  
A sound of thunder? why? me thinks this hour  
I see ten thousand like thyself that stand  
Applying all unto their proper sins;  
The bribed Lawyer having ta'en his fee  
With ambodexter, feeling cunningly,  
Hearing this voice, says, from his conscience sting,  
The heavens are angry at his double dealing;  
The griping Usurer that hath ta'en the forfeit  
Of some great Estate, this voice of conscience  
Now a little wakens him; the Thief,  
The Tyrant, and the Adulterer, all tremble  
Now: and what is it but Palsy-conscience  
That appropriates unto itself  
Things that we never knew.  Sib. 
But this is all my own.  
Did not the instant deed call up the thunder?  
Did not I vow to heaven, I ne'er would see  
Nor Sun, nor Moon, until the King were dead?  
To which I fear the heavens have added further,  
That those clear lights the world shall never see  
Till this black deed of hell revealed be.  Em. 
This is your conscience still: awake for shame  
From this same drowsy Lethargy of mind.  
Seek for thy safety Sibert, and assure it.  
The Lords are gone to London, follow them,  
And dive into the owse of all their actions;  
The general voice cries, Edmund King of England.  
And being enthroned, the Royal Policy  
Will mount him with a strict and nearer quest  
To find the author of his Brother's murder.  Sib. 
That starts my heart: hence coward conscience,  
If any conscience shall but wrinkled sit,  
And bend a doubtful censure upon Sibert,  
I will again dip these my hands in blood  
Of the most daring opposite; I see 'tis fear  
That man accuses▪ resolves acquit all guilt,  
All must to earth, where then can blood be spilt?  Em. 
Why now thou speakest.  Sib. 
I'll put it all in action; stay thou here:  
Gather our friends and Tenants to a head:  
Then with them fortify our strongest Castles, 'tis fit  
For him that injures others, to secure himself.  Exit. Ent. Thorny, Woodford and Anne. Wood 
Good Sir, have patience.  Thorn. 
Away, she's big, big with child;  
Out of my doors, thou strumpet.  Wood 
Dear uncle.  Thor. 
Cover my shame with some deformity, turn me to a beast,  
That is not capable of what joys are past,  
Or griefs to come: blast all my faculties;  
Hide my white head in everlasting darkness;  
Let me forget that ere I had a child,  
And ne'er remember that she turned a strumpet.  
O heaven defend me! Let me curse the whore.  Wood 
Good Sir forbear, my charity is such  
That I must hinder you.  Thor. 
You do me wrong to hinder my devotion.  An. 
Oh! dear Sir, forbear to invocate; you will offend,  
And make your virtue sin, to call for curses.  
Have charity with yourself, if not, with me:  
Impose me to the Laws severity.  
Hurt not yourself with this impatience;  
I'll stoop to all with mildest sufferance.  Tho. 
So, so, 'tis done, and 'tis recorded now,  
And I have done ill with a mental vow:  
Better then windy words; my soul's a witness  
Never to let a benediction fall  
Upon the strumpet's head; never to know  
Or own thee for my child; never to give  
A penny of my substance to thy succour;  
Never to look on thee: this I affirm,  
Ever to follow thee with extremest hate;  
Still to pursue thee with extremest rigour;  
The Law provided has for such offenders  
Nay thou shalt stand example to all children,  
How they invoke a Father's aged wrath.  Wood 
Good Sir, qualify this rage▪ tell us who the offender was.  Thor. 
Who should offend with an adulterous whore,  
But some loose varlet, or luxurious knave,  
That would have company along to hell:  
And she must needs go with him: but I'll begin  
Your everlasting torments, and fetch such whips  
Shall make your sweet sin smart; no weight of fate  
Can be so ponderous, as love turned to hate. Exit.  Wood 
Cousin you see how your Father is enraged,  
Therefore his anger for to qualify  
Is in my judgement, to him, to reveal  
The man that made him lose your Virgin's name.  An. 
O my dear Cousin, it is a waigthy secret that's enclosed  
Within my answer; nor can it be revealed  
But to a bosom sworn to secrecy.  
And yet your love should not be questioned.  Wood 
Were all the engines of tormenting terror  
Put to my flesh, if I do vow a secret,  
None near shall force it from me.  An. 
I believe it.  
Know then, kind Sir, the author of this folly,  
Sin, or shame, or how you please to call it,  
Was youthful Edmund, now th'elected King.  Wood 
Prince Edmund!  An. 
He may deny it now; but here's a witness:  
Oh! do but think with what unequal strength  
This Citadel of honour was besieged,  
And you will hardly blame my yielding weakness,  
When opportunity, the bawd of time▪  
Had called me forth and brought me to his presence,  
Think what amazing terror Royalty could do,  
With a commanding love: what sugared breath,  
Words able to infuse an appetite  
In a cool votarist; yet manger all  
My vanquishment was but conditional.  
You do not hear me Cousin.  Wood 
Yes, and so you yielded on conditions.  An. 
True Sir, when flattering oaths, sweet vows,  
Coined love, were out of breath, still I remained  
A maiden votaris: but then came forth this  
Murdering piece of grief; we changed the  
Jugal words of matrimony between our  
Souls; and the large ceremony was but  
Deferred unto the King's consent, which by his  
Brother's death is now his own.  Wood 
But lust once sated, they forget all oaths,  
That helped them to't; and though a Prince, he's  
Subject to affections; I but think you  
he'll not forget.  An. 
I cannot tell.  Wood 
And violate his vow.  An. 
Alas! I dare not claim it: but how ere  
This token of his love I'm sure to bear.  
And for his sake, thus have my vows decreed,  
No man shall ever second this his deed.  Ent. Lobster and joan. Lobst. 
O Mris, Mris, I have run so fast and taken such Pains,  
That my wind's gone backward and forward;  
And have stirred so much that I do  
(Saving of your presence) you may smell the rest.  
joan has been down; but, but  
I took her up again: yonder comes your Father  
With such a company of Beagles:  joa. 
And such a company of whips:  Lobst. 
And such a company of summoner's:  joa. 
And such a company of knaves:  Lobst. 
Slaves, that look as if they had eat  
No meat this seven years, and they  
Bring the engines that must give your  
Shoulders the bloody lash.  An. 
Oh heavens forgive me! am I the first offender?  Thor. 
Let all the Officers beset the door,  
And look Mr Constable, here's your prey;  
Go strike your talent in.  Ent. Thorney, Constable and others. Thor. 
Here's banquets for you; I'll make her pass  
Through all the pu●gato yes of penance.  
You are the Physician that let wantoness blood,  
To cure the itch of lust: you may do good, but yet beyond your help,  
There will remain an everlasting scar, a spot, a stain,  
That never will be out: oh! look on me,  
You that distribute justice partially:  
Scourge your own flesh and blood when it rebels.  Wood 
Good Sir be patient; I pray depart,  
And consider what he hath done, is not in hate, rashness.  An. 
Upon my knees, dear Sir.  Thor. 
I will not hear thee strumpet.  
Heaven, earth, and men give ear and hear my words.  
Here take my vow his force: beyond this hour.  
We never more will meet. I'll hate the place that keeps thee.  
And as a lasting trophy of thy guilt:  
I will dispose myself, that did beget thee:  
Never shall razor prune thy careless looks,  
I'll never hence forth feed but on the ground;  
I'll never pair my nails, but let them grow  
Into unseemly claws, with which I'll dig  
My Monumental bed.  An. 
Oh kill me Sir! and end my miseries.  Wood 
Good Sir, calm this passion.  
All this distemperature for a grief so slight.  Thor. 
Oh! shut me up in everlasting night:  
Let me but see her under Justice gripped,  
And then I'll turn away my eyes for ever,  
For now I go to contemplation:  
Thy soul I pity yet, though not thy flesh.  
That wealth should have endowed thy nuptials  
Shall build a sanctuary for holy men,  
To make thy peace in heaven; lewd world farewell.  
I never will discover more of thee  
Then from the humble prospect of my grave.  
My charge can be but small, my care much less,  
I have not left me now a child to bless. Exit.  Lob. 
If every wench should be so used that had eaten white puddings,  
We should not have so many Children left upon stalls as we have:  
Unnatural Father, that would whip his own child for drinking a little white bastard:  
Ye ill looking rascal,  
Canst find in thy heart to whip a great  
Bellied woman? Mris, now I am in a good mind  
Here's good hanging me; I beseech you Mris,  
Let me be flayed from the chin to the navel,  
Rather than you shall be whipped.  Io. 
Or I beseech you, let me endure the ponnance.  Lob. 
ay, good Mris, if you will not let me be whipped,  
In any ●ase, let joan be whipped.  Wood 
Pray will you be gone?  Lob. 
Yes. I go, but I cannot choose but cry  
To think that a woman▪ for once doing,  
Should be undone for ever▪ Come joan here's  
A fair example for you: let's then to the buttery  
And candole; for sorrow's dry, you know,  
we'll weep whole pa●l fulls, and in briny tears  
Myself and joan will duck o'er head and ears.  Wood 
Mr Constable, I beseech you Sir, to show to us what  
Favour you can, you see her case, therefore I pray,  
Leave unto me your Prisoner; i'll pass my word  
For her appearance at her delivery.  Const. 
Sir, I am but the Laws dependency;  
And for her Father's sake, though against his will;  
I'll leave her to your care, and take your bail,  
Till course of Law shall further summon her.  Wood 
I pray Sir, depart as privately as you can,  
To avoid further punishment.  Const. 
Well Sir, I'll follow your directions.  
My charge is yours. Exit.  Wood 
There now remains only this,  
That I entreat you to accept my house  
For entertainment, till you be delivered:  
There you shall want for nothing, but have  
Kind respect.  An. 
Heaven make me able to requite your love.  Wood 
Come home with me, and bid all grief Adieu.  An. 
The health of my sick soul relies on you:  
There is another home, I dare not name.  
I'll be disgraced ere, I his worth defame. Exeunt.  Ent. Edmund, Earl of Wiltshire, Sibert, Bishop. Edm. 
How like a tedious day is Majesty▪  
Which gives his light unto succession?  
The day expired, night with his pale dark cheek  
Wraps up his brightness, and gives day repose,  
To give another a reflection.  
So by death's hand my brother's days destroyed,  
My Sunshine day refulgently appears:  
Which, how he died, the heavenly eye of love,  
Whose searching Majesty lightens all thoughts,  
And opens all her dark obscurity,  
Best knows whose hands were bathed in the blood.  Wilt. 
You see the cruel terrors of these times,  
Oh! gracious Prince, and that which doth exceed  
The strength of all amazement, since the death  
Of our late murdered Lord and Sovereign:  
The Sun and Moon was never seen to shine.  Edm. 
The eye of heaven is banished from the earth,  
And gone to wander in eternal night;  
And ransack some Cemerian seated cave,  
To find the Murderers, that with horror sits  
Starting at every apparition;  
And never will illuminate the world,  
Till it hath brought him to transparent view;  
And to him speaks this thunder.  Sib. 
No, 'tis to me: but I'll not answer,  
Though the bolts should fly and strike me to the centre.  Edm. 
How horridly it cracks!  
A general desolation sure is come,  
And heavens glorious eye  
I think is banished hence eternally.  Sib. 
Take courage Sir a Royal thought  
Stoops not to Fortune's blindness: great thoughts are ever  
Fixed to the public good, and not kept down by passions.  
Oh! the blood.  Wilt. 
Let's invocate the powers above  
For to reveal the horrid Murderers.  Sib. 
Hot vengeance light on him that so persuades him.  Edm. 
Swear as you hope for heaven, your careful studies  
Shall be to si●t this execrable deed,  
And bring to light this damned Murderer.  Sib. 
Zounds I must kill him too, and prevent his purpose.  Will't. 
We vow the same with force and diligence.  Edm. 
As for myself I will outwatch the night,  
Wast these life-seeing tapers of mine eyes  
Till they drop forth the sockets of my skull:  
But I will find the execrable Slave.  
Why stand'st thou silent, Sibert?  Sib. 
Alas! my Lord, I am hid in sorrow,  
That in my house this mischief happened:  
And yet dear Prince, I have already spent  
The utmost minutes in this fatal business:  
No place, no person, no suspected breast  
That might unto the act be aidable,  
But I have torn it open, and examined,  
So that deceit itself could not deceive me,  
But all in vain, the damned Murderer lies unrevealed,  
And heaven or none must find him, he's so subtle.  Edm. 
I fear thy Loyalty; come let's to Coventry,  
And there we will fifth out murder's darkest ways  
Sibert, let's have your Company along.  
Were millions given this purpose to prevent,  
All Europe shall not hinder our intent.  
Be ready, Sibert.  Sib. 
With all my heart, my Lord. Mischief confound it.  Edm. 
Set forward Lords,  
Thou that still guards the right,  
Bring this dark obscure murder to the light.  Exeunt. Manet Sibert. 
So the King's for Coventry, and I as marked  
With some brand of suspicion, must be the man  
To attend above the rest: 'Sfoot, what note  
Or character of guilt lies on my brow  
More than the rest: my speech was firm,  
I was less frighted with this loud tongued thunder  
Then was the King, or any of his Peers.  
And but my conscience nothing troubles me;  
And that is no man's burden but my own▪  
Which I'll conceal, though with the Kingdom's ruin:  
Let Hell spit fire, I'll not accuse myself,  
Although the Sun and Heaven be hid in clouds,  
And with an everlasting darkness cover us.  Thunder loud. 
Oh! I presume too much, that crack has mazed me.  
Horror of Hell! what shall I do? think, Sibert and conceive;  
What if the King should call my wife in question,  
Or that the Murderers, we hired to do't,  
Should be surprised, and brought unto the King,  
Examined, put to death: where's Sibert then?  
Thrown in Hell fire, never to rise again.  
Which to prevent, I'll presently make flight,  
And leave with them my fear and jealousy.  
I'll ship myself for Ireland, and there  
Shroud myself safe, and there close up my ears  
From this loud peals of thunder, which are sent  
And on my head with winged vengeance bend.  Exit. Ent. Mr Woodford and Anne Thorny. Wood 
Now you are a happy mother, the good Heavens  
Has brought your burden to a happy issue, you may  
Now curse the cause; you shall have my instructions  
To direct you.  An. 
Now, Heaven forbid.  Wood 
By his delay you may see how he stands affected.  An. 
'Tis a delay without proportion.  Wood 
Your Father threatens and pursues your lives best shipwreck,  
Vowing, if you should starve, not to give  
A penny for to comfort you.  An. 
Yet I will pray for him eternally:  
And for my Sovereign which hath forsaken me;  
But of his love I will expect no more,  
Think wise, or dream then of that thing  
Unknown, unsought, or never thought upon.  Wood 
Oh! be not to yourself so cruel.  An. 
Since in his loss, I have lost myself and honour;  
I now resolve in this unblemished habit to wear out  
The remnant of my days in penetance  
Amongst the holy Nuns of Holy well,  
Into whose Sisterhood I am admitted,  
And there for ever will I plant my being.  Wood 
Oh! gentle Cousin.  An. 
I am deaf to all persuasions,  
My best of blood, I have no friend but you,  
And in your virtue I impose my trust,  
That with all secret care you choose a time,  
To give this ring to my dear Sovereign,  
The once dear pledge of his forgotten love:  
With it this letter, in whose sad contents  
Is nothing but a virtuous mild entreaty,  
That he would graciously behold this child,  
His hapless Son, and called by his name,  
Edmund, that mongst the longer of my sighs  
I may have comfort to keep down my griefs.  Wood 
And as my own, I mean to tender it.  An. 
Your virtue makes my care lie easy on me:  
Good Cousin speak what temper holds my Father?  Wood 
Has given o'er his house and all his wealth,  
He means for to distribute to holy uses.  An. 
And yet I live and breath that am the sinful author  
Of these sorrows: but flows this deluge for his own  
Offences, Or the remembrance of my hateful shame.  Wood 
From your disgrace.  An. 
Then to this World Adieu, why do you urge  
To hold me longer here a Prisoner?  
I have out lived mine honour, buried alive  
My old and virtuous Father, for which I am below  
All reach of humane pity that I know.  
They wish to Serpents more prosperity.  
My soul's as black as darkness, and can take no light  
Of other beauty, till my tears have washed it:  
I do beseech you Cousin, commend my duty  
To my Father, and entreat his virtue,  
To l●y no more affliction on his age for my offences past  
And last to thee, my first of cares,  
Whose innocence is spotted with my sin.  
Oh! be thou made so blest, that in thy virtues  
I and my faults may lose their memories.  
Take my last kiss, and with it these my tears,  
Which to thy Royal Father thou shalt bear.  
Now take it ●r and with it all my comforts, all my prayers.  
Love it dear Cousin, & though from grief it spring,  
Yet 'tis the only Son unto a King: farewell.  
I fear we never more shall meet on earth,  
Here my joys end, you have my sorrows birth.  Exit. Wood 
Success attend you: would all that stepped awry,  
Would be but subject to thy penalty.  
Come on thou brat of woe, and sad defame,  
Although a Kings he cannot hide the shame.  Exit. Ent. King, Earl of Wiltshire, Bishop Lutius, and Emma. King. 
Thus Royal Lords, we are in Justice placed,  
And by the assistance of the allseeing heaven  
To search forth murder. Are the suspected persons  
Yet brought?  Wilt. 
They are my Liege.  King. 
Speak woman, and remember as thou speakest,  
That thou art before heaven as well as we,  
Who them with all thy cunning caused not blind;  
What know'st thou of the murder?  Em. 
I do beseech, bring forth my accusers.  Will't. 
I am the first, yet free from spot of envy,  
And thus I ground my fear, if your white hands  
Have ta'en no tincture from the bloody wounds  
Of our late murdered Prince, why is your Lord  
Against his oath, allegiance, and command.  
Fled thus preposterously in the selfsame hour,  
In which he should have done his Country-service.  Em. 
The Law whi●h did ●nite my Lord and me  
In one firm body: never did impart  
The freedom of his thoughts into my bosom  
Neither doth that or any English custom  
Impose on wives their husband's blemishes.  
I pray, my Lord, accuse me for myself.  King. 
'Tis from yourself if you be foul in him.  Wilt. 
Besides it is affirmed by solemn oath  
The self same night the King forsook the World▪  
You and your Lord did never come in bed;  
So that in common sense, you either were  
Or chief, or aiding to the murderer.  Em. 
Our busy care to entertain the King,  
Did make us leave our beds to virtuous ends.  
Oh! my good Lord, you would disgrace my goodness,  
But my poor innocence is so clear from blemish,  
No filths of any tongue can sully it.  
And here before your Master, I wish,  
If I be guilty, or in thought or action,  
May I be made a warning to all women,  
And branded with most black damnation,- oh!— oh—  Wilt. 
Defend us heaven! Look to the Lady there.  Bish. 
Are you hurt, Madam?  Em. 
No, but amazed at this dreadful thunder.  Bish. 
Oh! be advised in time, and tempt not heaven.  
Scarce had denial issued from your lips,  
B●t thunder cries aloud that you reveal  
What else heaven will speak in miracles.  King. 
Do woman, tell the truth.  Em. 
You mad me wi●h your vain suggestions:  
Your actions are unjust and terrible.  
I do defy what ever can accuse me;  
Though it be wrested in loud peals of thunder,  
Yet with a breath more noble than your slander  
I throw defiance at your envious boosoms.  
What do you think to work upon my weakness?  
Tush, I am armed with better fortitude  
My Lords, I ask a husband at your hands:  
A Noble Prince, which you have murdered;  
And now with these suggestions would overwhelm.  
My life and fortunes, making me confess  
A crime, of which I am more innocent  
Than you yourselves, or babes new born this hour. A blazing star appears.  Bish. 
See, se, my Lord, a blazing star appears,  
And hangs directly o'er this fatal house.  Edm. 
Angels pro●ect us!  Em. 
Ha, what art thou?  
Thou dost amaze me with thy curled fires.  
Why doth thy flaming train thus point at me,— oh!— oh!-  Bish. 
How fare you, Lady?  Em. 
Oh hide thy branded fire, whose flaming beams  
Are shot into my brain; it flames and burns,  
And all the waters that o'erwhelm the King,  
Can never quench it, till his body come.- oh!- oh!  King. 
Doth water then o'erwhelm his body?  Will't. 
Perhaps 'tis cast into some River, Sir.  Em. 
Spare me, oh! spare me, gentle heaven, be dumb▪  
Call not so loud, let me unload my boosom  
Of this eternal weight of sin and murder;  
Then let thy winged lightning split my breast,  
That all the World may know, my Lord and I  
Contrived the King's most bloody tragedy.  King. 
It is confessed.  Em. 
Oh! Royal Sir, I am enforced to speak:  
Frowning heavens, and that almighty fire  
Hath thrust it from my mouth, and I confess,  
My Lord and I did hire two desperate men,  
And they by our command did kill the King.  King 
Where are those men?  Em. 
The murder done they fled to find out safety,  
But whither, by my soul's sick estate, I know not.  King. 
What did you with the body of the King?  Em. 
Hard by the Castle stands an old grown oak,  
Close by whose side a little River runs,  
Whose quiet streams we stopped, and turned h●s course  
Up to his head, till in his sandy bottom  
We digged a pit and therein laid the body;  
Which done, we covered it with earth & stones  
And turned the water to his former passage,  
That running over it, none might see  
Or find the author of this tragedy.  King. 
Unheard of stratagem! take pity on thy soul!  
Thou barbarous woman; call to the powers above  
For to be merciful.  Em. 
False World, farewell; let me example be,  
A warning to our sex from blood to flee. Dies.  King. 
Go home and see the body be brought before the Judge.  Wilt. 
I shall my Lord perform it carefully  Enter some with Sibert and Murderers. Wilt. 
Come bring him before the King.  Sib. 
Let me not see the King, nor be examined  
That cursed, which did bewitch my sense,  
And made me hire the slaves to murder him.  King. 
Discourse to us the manner of their taking,  Sib. 
I'll tell the tale myself, hear me, O noble judge:  
When in disguise loaden with desperate thoughts,  
I meant to pass to Ireland by the Seas,  
The angry heavens called up the mounting waves▪  
And bade them in their hollow murmurs say,  
They would not bear a King's base murderer▪  
My passage thus denied by raging storms,  
Like a distracted outcast forth I went  
Into strange paths, careless and negligent,  
And there I met these damned Murderers,  
Mad as myself: and horror with despair,  
They hollowed still for mudering the King▪  
We all are damned to eternal torturing:  
Which when the people heard, they us surprised  
And brought us thus a bloody sacrifice.  King. 
The Gods are ever just: oh! Coventry,  
Thou art the bloody Subject of our curses;  
Thy bloody hand hath bathed the anointed King  
In his own blood, for which we will be swift.  
In vengeance: take these three, and by their heels, hang  
Them upon stakes; let ravens, mastiffs, worry▪ them to death:  
That when they s●rick, their hideous fearful cries  
May draw the Land to see their miseries:  Sib. and Murd. 
The doom is Royal, just, and merciful.  King. 
For this vile woman, see her senseless body  
Be on a pile of faggots burnt to earth,  
And scattered before the blustering wind  
That on their winged conveys they may fly  
To the World's furthest verge or memory.  
See it performed; they thus to death are sent,  
The Heaven I hope will pease her punishment.  Bish. 
Take comfort, Princely Sir, the worst is past,  
The sacred powers are pleased with this your justice:  
For with the Traitor's deaths the storms are ceased,  
The air is clear, and all the thunders past,  
And see, the Sun and Moon give blessed light,  
And quite abolished our diurnal night.  King. 
Now the news. Ent. with the body.  Wilt. 
The body's found my Lord.  King. 
Bring it in.  Wilt. 
'Tis here my Liege.  King. 
Here on this humble ground lies he  
That once was King of this vast Monarchy▪  
Alas! What are we Kings? what's Majesty?  
But like a flattering glass that shows forth pride,  
And with one stripe, of all destroying death,  
Is passed to nothing: looks that face now  
Like to a brow that did command a Kingdom.  
Thus pale and bloodless; was this the head  
That wore the golden wreath, thus groveld all with earth?  
Take up the body, and let it have a second burial,  
And laid within the sepulchres of Kings:  
Ourselves will take our way,  
And make a progress to establish Laws,  
That this our Land justice may rule so even,  
Our life may be acceptable to heaven. E●eu●●.  Enter Chorus. 
The body being entombed, King Edmund takes  
A progress through the Realm to establish Laws;  
Himself in judgement. Sits to hear men's cause?  
Five years he spent: mean time what cares befell  
Unto his Love, the Nun of Holy-well,  
And her affectioned Father: now behold  
What's done in show, I shall in words unfold.  A dumb show. Enter Thorny with Citizens, giving them large sums of money: showing them the money: desires them to see his building go forward: takes his leave with a death's head in his hand: goes into the tomb. Second dumb show. Enter one way Edmund, Wiltshire. Bishop Lutius; at the other, Woodford and the Child: he kneels, delivers to the King a Letter and a Ring: he reads the Letter and smiles; blesses the Child, and gives it to Wiltshire; the King and Bishop departs to see Anne. Chorus. 
Old Thorny thus o'er grown with misery:  
Who never more would see his virtuous Child,  
But in a plot of ground, a mile from London,  
Builds up a tomb where night and day he lives▪  
His goods are sold, and to the poor he gives  
Large sums of money, and takes a solemn oath,  
Of those his friends and worthy Citizens  
Fast by his tomb to build a famous Abbey,  
And with three hundred work men daily plied  
To have it finished ere old Thorny died.  
This done, the King returned back to London  
And faithful Woodford watching a fit time,  
Presents him with a Letter and a Ring,  
His long forsaken love had sent to him,  
Which read, the King wi●h much astonishment  
Remembers her, and doth with tears express  
How much he blames his much forgetfulness,  
Vowing to see her: presents to him his Son,  
Being grown to years of some discretion:  
Which the King gladly takes, and smiles on him.  
What now shall follow with your gracious favour,  
We humbly beg attention to the end,  
And if we fail to please we'll strive to mend. Exit.  Ent. Old Thorny in his tomb. 
Oh brightsome day! thus low poor Thorny bows,  
To strive with briny tears thy gladsome light,  
Whose hopes have shut him up in darksome night,  
Here in this tomb sequestered from the world  
Will Thorny spend his life; and with my nails  
To dig my grave, and in this glass to see,  
And view the end of all mortality.  
Court-pomp, and City pride, look, look on this,  
And teach your souls the way to happiness:  
●oor flesh and blood, is this the face of man,  
After the world's sad separation?  
Must all return to this! oh London, London:  
Thy flattery and guile  
Has been the cause that I myself exiled,  
By Servants sorrow and Daughter's sin▪  
I will behold thy populous streets no more,  
Nor breath in thee, nor surfeit in thy store:  
Here in my grave, I'll live and learn to die,  
That after death my Soul to Heaven may fly.  Enter Lobster. 
'Tis a fine world, when a man must call a man  
Out of his grave to eat victuals.  
They talk of watching of a dead corpse; I am  
Sure, I have watched a quick one this  
Month, and brought him meat so long  
That I am almost starved myself.  
I have brought him a clean shirt,  
I would he would shift himself.  
I found a louse about him as big as  
The top of my thumb, I thought as much:  
He's talking with that same casts head still;  
Sure 'tis a Lawyer's head, he  
Finds so much talk wi●h it, it is not abel to  
Answer a wise word: I am so hungry,  
My guts are almost clung together.  
Mr, pray will you leave your prating  
To that Memento mori, and go to break-feast.  Thorn. 
No, set it down, I have no mind of meat,  
Till we have thankful been we should not eat.  Lobst. 
Will you say grace? and if you'll wash your hands,  
I'll fetch some water.  Thor. 
Oh vanity of fools! hast thou thus long  
Been my careful contemplation,  
And learnest thou nothing yet▪ look on this hea●  
This careless skull had flesh and blood,  
And all like this must meet deformity.  
What swearer sees this moth & does not tremble  
Oh man! how vain art thou that speakest th● labours  
For one bewitching minute of this world.  
And after all thy joys to hell be hurled.  Lobst. 
I would I were at the heaven of my vittals.  
I'd talk of hell afterward.  Thorn. 
Hast thou no abstinence for pious work●  Lobst. 
There's a piece of pie, I would fain be at it,  
Will you eat that, and leave talking to that Test● de morte?  Thorn. 
Go call my friends that over see my work,  
Bid them come speak with me, and then I'll eat▪  Lobst. 
I will Sir, but I'll take away the provant,  
Lest they oversee that you see over.  Ent. 2 Citizens. 
My Master would speak with you.  1 Citt. 
All hail to you Sir.  Thor. 
All are alike to me, storm, hail or snow;  
I take them thankfully▪  
You two were sworn overseers and performers of my will.  
Tell me, how goes the Abbey forward?  2 Citt. 
'Tis almost finished Sir,  Thorn. 
When it is finished, I'll have it dedicated  
Unto the Monks of St Benedict's Order;  
And since I have no child to keep my fame,  
●e call it Thorny-Abbey by my name.  1 Cit 
We shall perform your charge: good Sir for pity  
At least remember your most wretched daughter.  Thorn. 
You tear my heart, when you but mention her;  
Were every penny that is mine a pound,  
And the least part of it given for her dowry  
Would raise her to the Title of a Queen:  
She never should possess it. Her soul sin  
Hath brought mine age with sorrow to the grave.  2 Citt. 
Poor soul, she spends her hours in a reclusive life  
With holy Nuns, and lives a votarist in Holy-well;  
That comfort, Sir, should somewhat ease your grief.  Thorn. 
It does, it does, and draws down tears to hear it.  
Give her a constant heart: oh powerful heavenl  
Still to persevere in that pious end.  
And as a sign that I forgive, so she continues firm,  
Bear her this blessed token sent from me:  
A Father's gift, and charge her carefully  
To look upon this head, and there select  
Reasons to answer all the Arguments  
Of flesh and blood; there she shall see  
The perfect way to find eternity.  
And so for ever may your souls be blest;  
Whilst from the world and you I thus take rest.  Exit. Lob. 
Are they gone; then Lobster lay abou● thee:  
Open thy mouth, and let in these  
Morsels of mortality to gorge thy hunger.  
Well, i'll in to a corner and feed like a mandi● Soldier. Exit.  Ent. Edmund and Bishop. Edm. 
Seek not to disallow my good intent,  
For I must visit her.  Bish. 
To give your grace some satisfaction,  
I'll pass a little with Religious Orders:  
For ne'er no man, unless a ●rier in confession,  
Might meet in private with a sacred Nun.  Edm. 
High seated jove far meaner shapes di● take,  
When he did visit his fair Paramour,  
And shall I, that am a mortal then disdain  
The holy habit of a frolic Friar?  
No Reverend man, stand it with thy good liking▪  
That shape above all other I would take.  Bish. 
You shall, in hope your deeds  
Shall no way tend to acts of sacrilege.  Edm. 
To sacrilege: no our thoughts are pur● and free  
From the least thought of such a horrid crime:  
The habit I will take only because  
I would be admitted to her unknown.  Bish. 
Your thoughts are noble Sir, and we'l● assist you:  Puts on a Fryer's shape. 
Put on this habit, and affect your wishes,  
Let me alone to get admittance for you.  Edm. 
How do you like me in this habit, my Lord?  Bish. 
Now by my holy Order, Royal Lord,  
You in this shape may be admitted  
Unto all our Nuns, and be a helper  
To increase their stoie.  Edm. 
There will be one the less by her I fear.  Ent. Abbess and Nuns. Ab. 
Your humble handmaids, High and Reverend Lord,  
Thus bow themselves before your Fatherhood.  Bish. 
We come grave Lady to have conference  
With one of your Religious Votarists,  
That has, we hear, without Confession  
Lived many years in this your Nunnery:  
Whose Father being a worthy Citizen,  
All careless of his life hath left his calling,  
And by the River Thames, a mile from London,  
He late ha●h builded up a famous Abbey,  
Called by his own name, Thorny; and for this,  
Fearing some sin of hers hath thus enforced him;  
I have here brought a holy Confessor,  
That finding the true cause, we may appear  
To reconcile her to her Father's love.  Ab. 
'Tis a pious work.  Bish. 
Is she not here amongst these holy Sisters?  Ab. 
No, my good Lord, go on and call her forth.  Edm. 
I'll be her Confessor.  Bish. 
And will not trouble your devotion;  
Come holy Sister, leave them to themselves.  Ab. 
Believe me gracious Lord, I know no cause  
In her that should enforce her Father  
In such sort to estrange his love;  
Her life is modest, chaste and virtuous.  Ent. Anne with a deaths-head. 
See here, she comes sadly alone:  
Ever in grief and contemplation.  
It is the Reverend Bishop holy Daughter,  
That here has brought a holy Confessor  
To have some conference about your Father.  Ex●●▪ Edm. 
Oh! who can see a beauty mufflled up  
Thus like the sun in a malignant cloud,  
And not shed tears: Beauteous Nun,  
I came from your Father.  An. 
My Father? oh! holy powers forgive him  
That has forgotten me: but I'll pray for him.  
He never more will see me but in death,  
As this sad token sent me witnesseth;  
And 'tis more welcome coming from hi● hands  
Then all earth's pleasure: here I'll learn to die,  
And never grieve him with my memory.  
This object tells me, that this life is vain,  
All come from earth and must to earth again.  Edm. 
A good resolve a virtuous persuasion;  
But tell me fairest, what was the cause  
That made your Father to forsake you thus?  An. 
Heaven pardon him, I pray, that sundered us.  Edm. 
Him? who? why? were ●here more Originals  
Then yourself?  An. 
Oh holy Friar, let that point alone.  
I may hurt one by that confession,  
Which once I dearly loved, but woe is me,  
His love has brought me to this misery.  Edm. 
Wha● was he? speak, for you are swor●  
To open every scruple of your conscience  
To your Confessor that hi● sa●ient judgement  
May minister a balsam to your wounds,  
The oy● of virtuous counsel ●hat's distilled  
From he unf●ined co●●sell of a tongue  
T●a● st●ll speaks truth Play t●e good Chirurgeon,  
Draw forth the filthy ulcers of your ill.  
That your immaculate good may still rest sound:  
Else the corrupted fistula of Sin  
Will putrify the purest of your goodness:  
Nor need you fear I will disclose,  
For I am sworn ever to keep it close.  An 
O! holy Father, pray for me, and him  
I once did love.  Edm. 
It is my duty for to pray for him,  
To entreat the powers above to quit his sin▪  
And yours: what e'er it were, but one  
You once did love; in that there is no sin.  An. 
Not, if the hearts be true;  
But ours met not, and there my sorrow grew.  
His place wa● high, and eminent in State:  
Mine low of birth, and most unfortunate.  
Oh! let me name his Name with Reverence,  
He is a Royal, great and gracious Prince:  
Nay more, he's now a King.  Edm. 
But tell me pray,  
Was not your love equally paid from him?  An. 
Oh no! his very thought yet comforts me:  
Yet 'tis for him I live in misery.  
Lord Edmund, Brother to the King deceased,  
Made me believe he loved me, and I thought  
His oaths and protestations like himself  
Should all be Noble, true and virtuous.  
So rendered up my Virgin state to him:  
Oh! than my grief began; he soon forgot  
His former vows, and left me big with child,  
Which being by my Father once espied,  
And I not daring to make known my love,  
Lest I should wrong the Prince: in rage and grief  
He thrust me forth his doors: exclaimed on me▪  
Taking such grief unto his aged heart,  
That never since he would acknowledge me;  
And in a grave he leads a life so poor,  
That to my heart it is a grievous sore.  
The angry Fates have all conspired to show  
The most that their enraged power can do.  
My father's heart hath quite renounced his child,  
And my affections from myself exiled.  
I only wish my hasty hourglass run,  
And with my cares my daily tears were done.  Edm. 
The King is just; how can there be then  
Such unexpected Constancy in men?  Anne. 
My noble King is just, to whose royal breast,  
'Tis too great boldness, for me to make request.  
I am too mean for him to think upon,  
Long may he live, and long t' enjoy his own:  
That everlasting days may Crown hishead,  
Shall be my prayers while here I'm Cloistered.  Edm. 
What a soul of Virtue hath this woman?  Anne. 
My father's Legacy, this Sceleton  
Shall be my mate, and sole Companion;  
This face will not deceive me: 'tis my dear  
And counstant tutor, I will it hear;  
And in my arms for ever shall it lie,  
Till death and dust have hid my misery.  Edm. 
Oh my heart, how heavy art thou grown!  
My lord Bishop, I can no longer own  
This Friars Coul, for I must now disclose  
Myself, sh'has suffered for my woes.  
But yet I'll stay and see the event of all.  Enter Wiltshire, young Edmund, and Abbess. Woodf 
Here comes your fair Son,  
To see you, Nun.  Ann. 
Oh my dear Child!  Young Edm. 
Am I a King's Son, Mother?  An. 
I dare not say, thou art; yet heaven we● knows it.  Wilt. 
Our good King's fair soul hath confessed it,  An. 
My duty on my knees I render him,  
Beseeching you to assure his Majesty,  
That if the holy vows of faithful hearts,  
Witnessed by heaven, may make a marriage lawful  
Without this earthly ceremonious state,  
This child is only hi● leg●t mate.  Edm. 
I can forbear no longer, I believe thee.  
Come to my soul, thou best of women!  
Within this small circumference of my arms  
I hold a jewel,  
That which ● prise more than my diadem.  
Come my dear love.  An. 
Oh my dear Lord!  Abb. 
The King turned Friar?  Edm. 
Come I must take away your Votary.  Abb. 
Your Highness may command, so she be pleased.  
I could myself change states, to be so raised.  Edm. 
Dry up these tears, all grief is overthrown.  An. 
Content be yours: I am no more my own,  
But Oh! my Father.  Edm. 
Has lost himself in grief; but when he hears  
Our sacred union, he'll find new joys:  
Come my fair Queen, set forward to our Court,  
Where we'll espouse thee. On Reverend Bishop,  
Thy hand shall join us; let all people sing,  
Anne Thorny's wife unto Great England's King.  Exit. Ent. Old Thorny, led by an Angel. Th. 
Oh! stay, thou Minister, yet speak to me▪  
Why hast thou led me all this silent night  
'Bout this large building, as if you'd survey  
Their workmanship and stateliness;  
I did not for myself erect this pile:  
I have a Palace for my proper use.  Ang. 
From the white path of blessed Eternity,  
I'm sent to comfort thy mortality:  
Persevere Thorny, as thou hast begun;  
Thou shalt be made a bright-Celestiall Sun,  
And with a choir of Angels thou shalt sing.  
Thy pilgrimage and toil is almost ended,  
And now arrived whither thy steps have tended,  
Leaving the world and her abortive race,  
And sit as King in an immaculate place. Exit.  Thor. 
Into what Sphere is my transcending soul  
Climbed from the earth: me thinks even now, I see  
How death comes in, to part this world and me.  
I'll hast me to my tomb, and meet thee there.  
What ho my man; wake Sirrah, rise, and leave  
My silent tomb: I'll now go sleep myself.  Lob. 
I can never rest, sleeping nor waking· This 'tis to serve a Master that's troubled with Chollimolly. Some talk of taking pleasure in their bed, I'm sure I take none there; for I am almost asleep before I go to bed, and I am called up before I wake. And this my master's bed, that he says shall be his grave, is none of the softest, and surely none of the easiest neither; for if it were he would not talk so much of it. He thinks, says and speaks of nothing else, but of that and his dying, two things I can't abide to hear of: If he would mention good provision, as plumpudding, good powdered beef, mutton or veal, turkeys or capons, pasties or tarts; there were some comfort towards the keeping up of this poor frail flesh. But he's always peeping on a bare deadman's head, talking of grim death, of an hourglasse run out, and of tapers that are burnt, and such like heavy stuff, that my weak stomach can't digest. Well, I'll walk easily home and see what ●oan hath provided for us; for unless I do look after all, we shall have nothing.  Exit. Thorney awakes and enters. 
Thus, thus my joys are quite extinguished, never  
To be revived: thus gone, thus gone for ever.  
Oh world, what art thou? naught but discontent,  
A Chaos of confusion, making man repent  
All his delight and pleasure he hath past;  
That bringeth naught but misery at last.  
Oh heaven! how much unto thee am I bound?  
That I an end of this my grief have found;  
And through this pilgrimage of life at last  
Wi●h patience through it I have gone and passed;  
But oh! the sad remembrance of my child  
Has drawn back my grief, that now was quite exiled;  
Still gripes my heart; but being now to die,  
All dying men should end in charity.  
I do forgive her now: do thou so heaven,  
And then the debt of her defame is even.  Enter Young Edmund, Wiltshire and Woodford. Young Edm 
Good Sir, where, where's my grandfather?  
Pray show him me,  
That I may ask his blessing on my knee.  Thorn. 
Ha! what apparition's this? I was awake even now,  
Why do you kneel, or thus stand bare about me?  
You do not worship me, I'm sure; I am no Idol;  
You hear me speak, I hope.  Wood 
We think no less, but that you are a man,  
And living;  
This, Mr. Thorney, is the Royal Prince.  Thorn. 
Pray, pardon me, I do not come at Court.  
You see good Sir, what doting age can do:  
It is my duty then to kneel to you.  Wood 
Stand up, good Sir, alas! why do you kneel?  
Why do you turn aside?  Thorn. 
Stand up my Daughter's Son,  
And tempt no more my resolution:  
I'll ne'er more see thee, nor thy worthy Mother Queen,  
Though trapped with all the ornaments of state:  
And for her memory, even Thee I hate:  
Yet though I see thee not, thus on thy head  
I'll backward lay my hand, and bend my knee,  
With sighs and tears to pull a blessing down,  
Shall be more precious than thy father's Crown;  
Let heaven and holy Angels ever spread  
Their blessed beatitudes upon thy head;  
Peace crown thy days; all graces thee attend,  
And to thy race, let thy race never end:  
Live long in virtue, let thy good o'ergrow thee,  
Or die before thy bad shall overthrow thee;  
Nay rise my Child, thy face ne'er more I'll see,  
But pray to send thee blessed eternity:  
Commend me to thy Mother; say, that I  
Freely forgive her, and to heavens do pray,  
To wipe her deep ensculpted sins away:  
And though on earth she now is placed high,  
Oh! let her ne'er transcend Humility.  
My stars burn dim; my times sand-glass is run▪  
Record what for a daughter I have done;  
And to the King, my Royal Son, say thus,  
That his ba●e Father died ambitious.  
For when his fainting body thus sunk down,  
His soul flew up to heaven, to gain a Crown.  Young Edm. 
O my Grandsire! Dies.  Wood 
I want tears to lament his misery.  Will't. 
Where's the Reverend man?  Wood 
He's dead, he's dead.  
My good Lord of Wiltshire;  
Before the gasp of his last breath was gone,  
(His speech being ushered with a deep fetched groan,  
Through the sad confluence and misty throng  
Of his distracted thoughts) his feeble tongue  
Dropped forth these words; Thus fleet, thus transitory  
Is man's delight, and all that painted glory  
Poor earth can give: Nor wealth, nor blood, nor beauty  
Can quit the debt, that necessary duty  
They owe to change and time; but like a flower  
They flourish now, and fade within an hour.  Wilt. 
The world is like a Play, his glass is run.  
Death acts the Epilogue, and thus his days are done.  
The King and Queen are come to comfort him.  Wood 
They come too late,  
Whirlwinds of grief has overwhelmed life's state.  Will't. 
He is then dead.  
Alas! this sudden death  
Will strike the Court with grief and heaviness;  
But hark, they come.  Ent. King, Queen and Attendants. King. 
Where's aged Thorny?  Quee. 
Where's my displeased Father?  Woodf. 
Here's his Effigies drawn unto the life:  
By the grave workman of mortality,  
All dreading death: this doth prefigurate  
Man's pilgrimage; on earth whose steps do tend  
To bring his life unto his journeys end.  Que●n. 
O me! unhappy eyes, rain down▪ bring drops,  
And with them here embalm my Father's Corpse.  
Had I but got his blessing e'●e he died,  
I had been happy.  Young Edm. 
You want not that, Mother.  
For in his blessing me, he did name you,  
And sent to you a blessed Beatitude.  Queen. 
Heaven quit him for't: let all the Court  
In black lament his death:  
And let's in sighs chant forth his requiem;  
And to express my love unto the Hearse,  
From whence I came, the Nuns I'll freely give  
Five hundred pounds a year whiles that I live.  King. 
And I'll make sure thy gift. And now,  
His old lamented Corpse let be conveyed  
Upon a Chariot, lined and o●erlaid  
With Sables; then to receive the Crown  
Prepared for Virtue and deserved Renown:  
Where now we leave him to be full possessed  
Of endless peace and everlasting Rest.  
Set on to Court, till a fit time doth call  
To solemnize this mournful Funeral:  
And while the world shall last, old Thorny's name  
Shall live recorded in the book of Fame.  
FINIS.