Alphonso KING OF NAPLES, A TRAGEDY. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal, By Their Majesty's Servants.  
Written by GEORGE POWELL.  
LONDON, Printed for Abel Roper, at the Mitre; and Thomas Beaver, at the Hand and Star near Temple-Bar, 1691.   

To Her GRACE THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND, etc.  
MADAM,  
WHere the Porticoes of Palaces stand like those of Temples, and the Great and the Fair leave their Accesses unbarred, Exalted Honour in that condescending Goodness, is so far from lessening its Grandeur, that it rather heightens its State; when True Magnificence must certainly consist in the Numbers of wondering Eyes around it, and Crowds of bending Knees before it. This Argument, which I hope I have not mistaken, is my best Warrant for this Confidence.  
I confess, indeed, in my Approach to Your Grace, I ought to consider how I find your Court filled with Quality, whilst that Nobler Train throngs up Your Presence, that my poor Intrusion is a little too presumptuous. This truly I ought to consider, did I not at the same time reflect, that on the very Scaffolds at Coronations, there are some remoter Benches, (or to speak in my own Province) some Upper Gallery Seats, even for poorer Homagers; the Voice of Adoration, and Echoes of Triumph being not only loudest but sweetest, where all Tongues unite in the Choir; whilst the lowest Humility may make up as hearty, though not so gay, a part of the Ceremony.  
From that Distant Bench, I beseech Your Grace to believe, that this Addressing Paper is handed down over the Heads of Honour to Your Grace's Feet. 'Tis true, I have dared to dedicate this Trifle to Your Grace, and in it publish that piece of Boldness to the World, which how far they may forgive me, I am not so much concerned, provided Your own Descending Mercy vouchsafe my Pardon.  
And thus entered under Your Grace's glittering Roof, my dazzled Veneration presents me so large and so hallowed a prospect, the concentring Worth of Two Illustrious Families, that in a long long Line from their Renowned Originals, number their fair devolving Honours by Centuries. The Great Ormond, and Your bright Self, a fair last Branch of the Royal Plantagenets, so Noble an Union, in that successive Roll of Fame, bring up the splendid Rear to so distant a Front, Your Remoter Leading Ancestors, as requires a Travel into Annals for a full Survey; so ample Your Hereditary Glories, that 'tis a Voyage but to coast 'em.  
But whither am I rapt! I am wandering into so spacious a Field, a speculation so far above me, that the Theme is too sacred for the trembling Pen of so poor a Mushroom Scribbler to venture at, Your Grace's Herald, and Your Panegyrist, being both an Attempt beyond my humble Talon. Besides, there's Object enough for my Adoration in a nearer View of Your Grace's radiant Virtues; an Influence so powerful, Greatness so prideless, Wit so elevated, Piety so exemplary; and to crown all these, Your Nuptial Glory, a Conjugal Affection, so inimitable, that a ministering Cornelia might be proud to hold up Your Train; And all these lodged in so Beautiful a Personage, so sacred the Divinity, and so bright the Shrine. The prospect, I say, of these sublime Perfections entirely takes up my humble Devotion; without looking back into Urns and Monuments, Records and Chronicles, for their Glorious Derivation. But my Contemplation of those Adorable Virtues is not alone sufficient; give me leave to Congratulate their Felicities too, the attending smiles of Providence, Virtue's divine Rewarder; when, as an earnest-blessing, the Great Ormond, under the Victorious Royal Standard, has made his first Entry into a Grove of Laurels, by hewing out the possession of his recovered Patrimony, by a Sword and an Arm, worthy the Inheriting Son of so Heroic a Father. The Continuance of whose Fortunate Successes, the rich, fair Harvest of a Field of Honour abroad, and Your Grace's no less Trophies, the Pride and Ornament of a Court at home, (a fair divided Triumph between You) shall ever be the Prayers of,  
Madam, Your Grace's Most Obedient and most devoted Servant, George powel.   

THE PROLOGUE.  Spoken by M r powel; As it was Written by Mr. john Haynes. 
Prepared to dam ' my Play, methinks you sit  
As if you'd all took Physic in the Pit.  
'Tis hard you won't allow in any Case  
To a Young Player either Wit or Grace.  
You use us like lewd Women of the Town,  
(With Punk and Poet you deal much at one)  
First You enjoy us, than you kick us down.  
" But there's a mighty difference in our Cases;  
" You damn ' new Plays, but cry up all new Faces.  
" And us, poor Devils, you cheaply do miss▪ use;  
" A clipped Half-Crown you think pays our abuse.  
" But with your Miss 'tis quite another thing,  
" The Bag of Honey's sweet; but 'ware the Sting.  
" In Wit too, nought but currant Gold will pass,  
" In Love, a Heart of steel, a Face of brass▪  
Yet have I known, for love of such a jilt,  
A doughty Hero physic first, than Tilt.  
Since then—  
I hope to find no Favour in your Eyes,  
Who all new Plays before they're heard despise.  
From you to the Fair Sex I now appeal,  
To whom you dare not but be proud to kneel.  
Bright Ladies then, whose Rays throughout the Pit,  
Do influence all around with Love and Wit,  
" Oh tune their judgements e'er my Fate be known,  
" 'Tis in your Power to make my Case their own:  
For with their FOIBLES did not you dispense,  
Which of 'em to your Smiles could plead pretence,  
For Dress and Fortune make your Man of Sense.  
Since then 'tis Fancy gives gay Nonsense Charms,  
Which the Fair Sex of judgement oft disarms;  
Let Fancy too, that rules the Wise, the Brave,  
That makes a Captive free, a Prince a slave,  
The Lawyer honest, th' Honest Man a Knave;  
That gives Content to Cuckolds, Wealth to th' Poor,  
To Courtier's Friendship, true Love to a Whore;  
That makes your Vizard Mask appear a Queen,  
Who hides her Face on purpose to be seen,  
And Apes of Quality, fond Misses think  
The Spark's in Love that praised 'em in his drink;  
Fancying their Beauty 'tis that so prevails,  
When we all know the Charm lies in their T—ls.  
Let Fancy then, that leads the World astray,  
Triumph o'er Wit to night, and save my Play,  
And then I'll laugh at Wits on my Third Day   

Dramatis Personae.  
ALphonso, King of Naples. 
Mr. Bowman.  Ferdinand, Prince of Thessaly, in Love with Urania. 
Mr. powel.  Cesario, General of Naples, privately Contracted to Urania. 
Mr. Mountfort.  Tachmas, His Brother, banished from Naples, and lives disguised in the Habit of a Hermit 
Mr. Hodgson.  Vincentio, Commander 
Mr. Bridges.  Sigismond, Commander 
Mr. Cibber.  Oswell, Creature to Ferdinand. 
Mr. Freeman.  Fabio, an Impudent, Impertinent Courtier. 
Mr. Bowen.  Attendant. 
Mr. Kirkham.   

WOMEN.  Urania, Princess of Naples. 
Mrs. Bracegirdle.  Ardelia, her Confident. 
Mrs. Richardson.   
Scene NAPLES.   

ACT I. SCENE I.  Urania discovered melancholy, Ardelia standing by her. Ardel. 
DEar Madam, do not wear this clouded Brow, Those lively Looks that used to cheer the Court, Are now grown Strangers to you.  Urania. 
Prithee Peace.  
Can I look pleasant in Cesario Absence?  
As well the Sun, wrapped in a dark Eclipse,  
May appear beautiful to th' frighted World.  
Oh when, Cesario, when wilt thou return,  
To free me from thy hated Rival's Suit!  
This Ferdinand, Disturber of my Peace.  Ardel. 
Madam, you need not thus disturb yourself.  
He takes all humble ways to gain your Heart:  
Your Father too seems not to force your Love,  
And if Cesario comes with Conquest home,  
The King's Consent perhaps may make you his.  Urenia. 
What music's that?  Soft Music within▪ Ardel. 
'Tis with Prince Ferdinand.  Uran. 
Music from Ferdinand!  
The Groans of tortured Ghosts were Airs more pleasing.  SONG within. 


I.  
WHen Silvia is kind, and Love plays in her Eyes,  
I think 'tis no Morning till Silvia does rise;  
Of Silvia the Hills and the Valleys all ring,  
Her Beauty's the Subject each Shepherd does sing:  
But, if she proves cruel, how little will move  
Those Charms which inspired us with Raptures of Love?  
Thy Rigour, dear Sylvia, will shorten thy Reign,  
And make our bright Goddess a Mortal again.   

II.  
Here enters Ferdinand, who stands gazing on Urania. Love heightens our joys; he's the Ease of our Care;  
Inspires the Valiant, and crowns all the Fair:  
Oh seize his soft Wings then before 'tis too late,  
Or Cruelty quickly will hasten thy Fate.  
'Tis Kindness, dear Silvia, 'tis Kindness alone,  
Will add to thy Lovers, and strengthen thy Throne:  
In Love as in Empire, Tyrannical Sway  
Will make Loyal Subjects forget to obey.    Urania. 
Now, now begins my Horror:  
The fatal Bell, should it proclaim my Death,  
Were Spherelike Music to this Night-Crow's Voice.  Ferdinand. 
Still, my Urania, still that angry Brow,  
Dearer than Life, but Oh, more cold than Death!  
Thou fair Insensible, still deaf to all.  
My Sighs, my Vows, my Prayers, Prayers that move Gods,  
And melt down Blessings even from Heaven, are Eloquence  
Too weak to touch the more adored Urania.  Uran. 
Oh Ferdinand, why do you still pursue  
Your hopeless Suit, how oft have I denied you?  
Nay, when Denials, those rough Arguments,  
Have been but unsuccessful Orators,  
What soft Entreaties have I gently murmured,  
To lull that Passion which but only wakes  
To rack your Quiet, and to ruin mine!  Ferd. 
Too cruel Fair!  Uran. 
I know, great Prince, you are the Man designed,  
By my most Royal Father, for my Husband;  
But would you wed my Person without Love?  
There are a Thousand Beauties would affect you;  
Beauties, whose Charms do far exceed Urania's,  
And would be happy in so brave a Prince.  Ferd. 
Why do you treat me thus like cruel Judges,  
Who speak them fairest whom they mean should die?  
What Charms can ever equal bright Urania's?  
Or who (indeed) is worthy to possess 'em?  
Were I the Glorious Monarch of the Skies,  
By Heaven, I'd place my Thunder in thy Hand;  
Make Nature and her Laws own thy Command;  
Mount thee aloft on my proud Eagles' Wings;  
Whilst all my lesser Gods, like Captive Kings,  
And fawning Courtiers, filled thy shining Train;  
Thou o'er thy jove so Absolute shouldst Reign:  
To kiss thy Feet my Heavens should Homage pay:  
And crowding Stars make a new Milky Way.  Uran. 
Forbear this Language I with Horror hear:  
Alas, I've made a strict and solemn Vow.  Ferd. 
A Vow! to what? to whom? Ah speak!  Uran. 
To one who merits all that I can give.  
To one that long has kept my Heart a Prisoner:  
With whom I've vowed it shall remain for ever;  
Make me not perjured, keep your Kindness in,  
For Love and I must never meet again.  Ferd. 
What murdering Sounds are these! and must this happy,  
Blessed, Cursed Rival have more Power than I?  Uran. 
Pardon me, Sir, when I am bound to say,  
And die to prove it true:  
Not all the Sun sees must alter me;  
Not Empires buy my Love, nor Tortures force it.  Ferd. 
I feel an Ice, creeping through all my Veins,  
That more than killing Winter-blast, that chills  
My crusting Blood, and turns me into Marble.  
Speak, speak, Urania, whilst I've sense to hear;  
Who is this cursed Invader of my Right?  Uran. 
'Tis you that are the Invader of his Right;  
For e'er I thought or heard of Ferdinand,  
I'd treasured up my Soul in dear Cesario.  Ferd. 
Cesario, ha, is he my happy Rival?  
Can you then stoop so low to love a Subject,  
And slight the proffered Greatness of a Crown?  
Yet, yet, Urania, call up Noble Thoughts;  
Think of a Crown.  Uran. 
A Crown, a Glittering Trifle,  
On which a Love like mine looks down with Scorn,  
And thinks it greater Pleasure in a Cottage;  
An humble Shepherdess with my Cesario,  
Than Reign the Empress of the gaudy East  
In any others Arms. You have my Answer;  
And if my Father will not give Consent,  
The Coals the Roman Portia did devour,  
Are not blown out, Steel holds its Temper still:  
Nay there are Thousand ways to let our Life,  
And I dare die for him.  Exit Uran. Ferd. 
Did my Stars owe me this! Oh I could curse 'em!  
And from my tortured Heart exhale those Vapours,  
Those Sulphur-Fumes from the black Hell within me,  
With Execration that should blast the Day,  
And darken all the World.  Enter Oswell. 
Who's there? my Oswell?  Oswell. 
Ever your Creature, Sir, but much concerned  
To find this Alteration in your Looks.  Ferd. 
Thou wouldst not wonder, didst thou know the Cause▪  
The bright Urania, she whose spreading Fame  
Drew me from Thessaly to view that Beauty  
So much admired by every neighbouring Prince:  
Whom when I saw I scarce could think her mortal.  
Something so all Divine shot from those Eyes,  
That I had not the Power to stand before 'em.  
Our Fathers both consented to the Match;  
But she, that cruel Fair, is still impenetrable;  
Minds not my Passion, slights my proffered Glory,  
Dotes on a Subject, one below my Birth▪  
Flies, with Disdain, from the true Flame I bring,  
To light her humble Taper at a Gloe-worm.  Osw. 
'Tis very strange the great Prince Ferdinand,  
With all his prosperous Fortunes cannot thaw her.  Ferd. 
The fatal Cause of all her Scorns too plain▪  
This fair infatuated Charmer  
Dotes on Cesario, on her Father's General,  
Whose threatning Power stands like a flaming Sword,  
To stop my Entrance into Paradise;  
He's now employed 'gainst the Sicilian King,  
And whilst he conquers, Ferdinand is lost.  Osw. 
I rather think you should with Joy receive him,  
Who comes a conqueror from her Father's Enemy.  Ferd. 
If he comes home with Victory, the King  
And his wise State must give him Thanks, the People  
Giddily run to meet the Conqueror,  
And owe their Lives and Safeties to his Triumph.  
But where am I? what Peace brings it to me?  
What Blessing is't to hear the popular Voice▪  
The echoing Crowd, with all their barbarous Throats,  
Shoot their wild Joys to Heaven, and I in Torment?  
Certain to lose my Hopes in fair Urania.  Osw. 
There may be ways at home to remove him,  
And place you in your Wishes; but, my Lord▪  
Whatever Spite you owe his prosperous Love,  
'Tis hard to envy him his Sword's Success.  
For should that fail, a Kingdom might be lost.  Ferd. 
A Kingdom! Death! were the whole World at stake,  
How light the balanced Universe would weigh  
With the Possession of the fair Urania!  
Such Beauty, and such Charms,— I shall run mad,  
And my Desires, by opposition, grow more violent,  
And without vent will burst me.  Osw. 
Who could have thought a Masculine Soul, like yours,  
Should sink beneath a Shock so feeble,  
Shall this poor Diminutive thing, this little Rival,  
Whom with your Breath you may blow out o'th' World,  
Raise such a storm within you?  Ferd. 
No, he sha'not.  
I've found myself again, and will be calm:  
No, thou too pitiless Urania, spite  
Of all my lowering Fate, my unkind Planets,  
And those fair, cruel Eyes, my angry Stars,  
I will not lose my hold.  Enter Fabio. Ferd. 
How now, what News with you?  Fabio. 
An't please your Grace, an humble Creature of yours, proud o'th' least Occasion, to express how faithfully my Heart is fixed to serve you.  Ferd. 
What's your Business?  Fab. 
I have Business of some Consequence;  
I had not been so bold else to disturb your Princely Conference,  
For I durst never assume that impudent Garb,  
That other Courtiers are known by;  
My Devotion has been still t'appear  
In modest Services.  Ferd. 
Well, Sir, toth' Point  Fab. 
It were a Point of deep Neglect, to keep  
Your Grace in Expectation, yet Delays  
Make Joys the sweeter; Arrows that fly compass  
Arrive with as much Happiness to the Mark,  
As those that are shot point-blank.  Ferd. 
This Courtier loves to hear himself talk;  
Be not so impertinent, we know your Care.  Fab. 
And Cost, my Lord, I hope:  
For they that hold Intelligence abroad  
To benefit their Country, must not make  
Idols of their Estates, and 'tis a Happiness  
To sell their Fortunes for their Prince's Smiles;  
Which I am confident you will vouchsafe,  
When you have heard my News.  Ferd. 
Would you'd vouchsafe to let me hear it.  Fab. 
Vouchsafe, my Lord, alas,  
You may command my Tongue, my Hands, my Feet,  
My Head, I should account that Limb superfluous,  
That would not be cut off to do you Service.  Ferd. 
I do command thee Silence; dost hear? Silence.  Fab. 
Silence, my Good Lord, is a Virtue I know;  
But where the Tongue has something to deliver,  
That may delight my Prince's Ear, and so forth.  Ferd. 
's Death, Dog! Torment me not, but tell your News!  Fab. 
My News, my good Lord, concerns the General.  Ferd. 
What of him? Is he killed?  Fab. 
The Stars forbid! he is returned, my Lord,  
Triumphant, Brave and Glorious.  Ferd. 
Be dumb.  
Another Syllable I'll have thy Tongue out.  Fab. 
My Tongue, my Lord.  Ferd. 
Thy Tongue, my buzzing Flesh-fly.  
Was all your Circumstance for this? Begone.  Fab. 
It would be a Piece of Rudeness, my Lord,  
Unpardonable not to obey a Prince;  
For your Grace is sensible, That to we Courtiers  
The Tongue is so very useful a Member—  Ferd. 
Slave,  Ex. Fab. bowing. 
Am I become a Jesting-stock for Fools?  Oswell. 
My Lord, you are too open-breasted,  
To let this Fellow see into your Heart;  
Wise men disguise their Counsels till things are ripe.  Ferd. 
The News has rent my Soul.  
I feel new Armies in my Breast, Swords, Javelins,  
All a whole Field of clashing War within me;  
But ha, the King! the Subtlety of Serpents  
Inspire me now, and something below Man,  
Spite, Malice, Woman's Malice enter here.  Enter the King. King. 
Oh Ferdinand! I am all Joy:  
Cesario, beloved Cesario, is returned with Conquest,  
And Sicily no more dares be our Foe;  
Cesario Sword cuts with so keen an Edge,  
And drives that formidable Fame before him,  
His very Name alone, without an Army,  
Is more than half the Conqueror.  Ferd. 
His Name alone, my Lord, though he have conquered;  
We must consider, Sir, your Soldiers Courage:  
Their Valour stands the Basis of his Pyramid:  
Their Sweat and Blood that Crowned him: but alas!  
All the whole Trophies of a conquered Field,  
Wreath only Garlands for the Leaders Brow;  
The General's still the mighty Man, he wears  
The Conquering Bays, whose Wounds soever pay for't;  
Whilst the poor Soldier, like the Slave i'th' Mine,  
Bears the least part of the rich Oar he digs for.  King. 
How, Ferdinand?  Ferd. 
Nay, Sir, I do not envy him.  King. 
You envy him, indeed, I hope you do not,  
Since 'twas for me he fought, and for his Country.  Ferd. 
Right, 'twas for you he fought, and 'tis the Cause  
That often prospers, which, without his Valour,  
Had stood its own Defender, for there waits  
A Guardian-Angel on a Righteous Cause,  
And when that arms, Heaven battles on its side.  King. 
In all this ill-timed Rhetoric, methinks  
You speak as if you envied his Success,  
And wear a Face of Sorrow for his Fortune.  Ferd. 
Who, I, my gracious Lord?  King. 
Yes you, my Lord;  
Speak, tell me, does he not deserve all Honours  
That I can give, or he has Power to ask.  Ferd. 
Indeed I think he does not.  King. 
Ha! what's that?  Ferd. 
Pardon me, Royal Sir, and hear me Speak  
If Subjects spend their Blood in their King's Cause,  
Forbid it Heaven they should not be rewarded:  
But how, or what Rewards must they expect?  
Would you, in Recompense of this his Conquest,  
Give him your Crown?  King. 
No, Sir, nor would he ask it.  Ferd. 
How know you that!  King. 
I know him to be Loyal;  
Know that he wears a Sword which only fights  
For his King's Honour, and his Country's Safety,  
Whilst his clear Soul runs purer than to suck  
A Poison from that cankered Weed, Ambition.  Ferd. 
I think otherwise,  
And, would you give me leave, can prove it to you.  
You know not, Sir, how high his Fancy soars,  
Or to what Pitch his towering Pride would reach;  
For he that aims to be his Monarch's Son,  
Would never rest till he had gained his Crown.  King. 
My Lord, this Riddle wants an OEdipus,  
For 'tis beyond my Fathom to expound it.  
But were Cesario Guilty of such Baseness,  
I would esteem him as my greatest Foe,  
And drive him from my Bosom as Infectious;  
As a Crowned Head I owe myself that Justice.  Ferd. 
Then I dare boldly speak; you know, my Liege,  
By a King's Sacred Promise you are bound,  
To make Urania mine. Would it not be a stain  
Upon your Royal Name, to have a Subject,  
Spite of his great Master's Vow,  
By treacherous Ways, to gain his Daughter's Love,  
And make himself, by stealth, your Kingdom's Heir?  King. 
Who is it dares do that?  Ferd. 
That dares Cesario:  
By Heaven, Urania owned a Love for him;  
Owned it to me, who wooed by your Permission;  
And if you meet his Conquests with this Triumph,  
'Twill make your Subjects think he does deserve her:  
The Army then will pay him, not you, Homage,  
And every Voice sound nought but proud Cesario.  King. 
Can this be true?  Ferd. 
Your Daughter will confess it;  
And if you mount his airy Thoughts too high,  
He himself will not blush to ask her of you.  King. 
By Heaven, I will prevent that Insolence.  
Have I been prodigal in's Praise for this?  
Yes, he shall be received. Who waits?  Enter Fabio▪ Fabio. 
My Lord!  King. 
Speak, is Cesario with the Army near?  Fab. 
My Lord, as I'm informed, and commonly  
My Information's good, he does not want  
A full Days March, and will be here to night.  King. 
Give Order that no Man go forth to meet him,  
Until our Pleasure's further known. Command  
The Governor place a Guard about the Gates;  
Let no Man's Face appear upon your Life.  Fab. 
Why, does your Majesty think I will fail  
In the Performance of your Orders? No!  
When I do that, may I—  King. 
Begone, I say, and fool some other time. Exit Fab.  
Who would repose in Man, whose vast Ambition,  
Would strive to mount above the Rebel-Giants  
Cesario, I will quell thy haughty Pride,  
Who durst attempt the Daughter of thy King;  
Yet she too owns a fault that equal thine.  
Degenerate Princess, can such Low-born Passion  
Stir this course Ferment in thy Royal Blood!  
Run thy rich Veins no purer, Folly, Frailty, Frenzy!  
Oh Woman! Woman, to thy share they fall;  
Thou sweep'st the Heap, and hast engrossed 'em all.  Exeunt.  

ACT II.  Enter Cesario, Vincentio, Sigismond and Soldiers. Cesario. 
COmmand a Halt.  1 Soldier. 
Halt.  2 Soldier. 
Halt.  3 Soldier. 
Halt.  Cesar. 
The King sure had Intelligence.  Vincentio. 
Most certain.  Cesar. 
'Tis strange!  
Is it not possible we have mistook the Place,  
Transported with our Victory?  
Speak, Gentlemen, is't so, or do we dream?  Vincent. 
Those Walls  
Are certainly the same, and that the City,  
Peopled when we set out, and full of Prayers.  
For our Success.  Sigism. 
It may be they reserve  
Their welcome till we march into the City.  Vincent. 
Nay, they may have some Conceit.  Cesar. 
A general Silence, like Night, dwells round about us,  
And no sign that Men inhabit here.  
Have we won abroad to lose ourselves at home?  
Or, what is worse,  
Has, whilst we went, some Monster landed here,  
Made the Place desolate, devoured the Natives,  
And made 'em creep into their Mother Earth?  Sigism. 
Not one Salute for our Return, such cold reception?  Cesar. 
Sure they don't take us for their Enemies.  
Captain, inquire the Cause; let none else move:  
Yet stay; sure it must be some strange Mortality,  
And yet that cannot be. Have we brought home  
Their Safeties, purchased through so many Horrors,  
And is this all the payment for our Conquest,  
To shut the Gates upon us?  Vincent. 
Force 'em open;  
' 'sdeath! let us shake their Walls about their Ears,  
They are asleep sure.  Cesar. 
Such another Rashness  
Forfeits thy Head; Go to; Be temperate:  
As I grudge none the Merit of their Valour,  
I must hear none so bold.  Vincent. 
I've done, Sir.  Cesar. 
Subjects are bound to fight for Princes,  
They not tied to the Reward of every Service;  
I look upon thee now died o'er in Blood,  
And have forgot thy Error, give no breath  
To such a Thought hereafter; Honour pays  
Double where Kings neglect, and he  
Indeed is valiant, that forgets to be rewarded  Sigism. 
This is cold Comfort for a Knapsack-Man.  Cesar. 
And yet 'tis strange the King should thus neglect us;  
This is cheap Entertainment for a Conqueror,  
Is't not Vincentio? Misery of Soldiers!  
When they have sweat Blood for their Country's Honour,  
They lie at other's Mercy!  Vincent. 
They have slept since, and dreamed not of our Sufferings.  Cesar. 
There's something would fain mutiny within me.  
Strangle these Snakes betimes, Cesario.  
So fold up your Ensigns, throw off all the Pride  
That may express a Triumph; we'll march on,  
As we had over-bought our Victory.  Vincent. 
The Gates are open now, and we discover,  
A Woman, by her Habit, coming this Way.  Cesar. 
Alone! more strange and fatal!  
It may be, 'tis my Genius come to give  
A Melancholy Warning of my Death,  
As Brutus had from his: I'll stand my Destiny:  
Yet bearing the Resemblance of a Woman,  
It will less terrify. Who should this be?  Enter Urania veiled. 
Lady,  
Who e'er you are, there's something in that Cloud,  
That mournful Cloud! which speaks some wondrous Sadness;  
Would I'd the Power to dispossess your Sorrow.  Urania. 
My dear Cesario!  Cesar. 
My beloved Urania!  
I'm now rewarded, had Cesario taken  
Into his Body, Wounds not to be numbered,  
This Kiss had cured 'em all; or but one Drop  
Of this rich Balsam; for I know thy Tears  
Are shed for Joy to see Cesario safe.  
The King, with all the Glories of his Province,  
Cannot do greater Honour to his General;  
For I've a greater Empire in thy Love,  
Than Fame or Victory has ever boasted.  
My Life! My Soul! Uranio!  Uran. 
Call again that Temper which has made Cesario Honoured,  
And if my Tears (which carry something more  
Then Joy to welcome home my most loved Lord)  
Affect you with no Sadness, (which I wish not)  
View well my Looks, which I have not put on  
To counterfeit a Grief, and they will tell you,  
There is necessity for you to know,  
Somewhat to check the Current of your Triumph.  Cesar. 
I was too careless,  
Of thy sad Looks, my Joy to see thy Face  
Made me distinguish nothing else; proceed,  
And punish my too prodigal Embraces;  
It is not fit I be in one Thought blessed,  
And thou in such a Livery.  Uran. 
When you say,  
You've strength enough to entertain the Knowledge  
Of such an Injury.  Cesar. 
If it only point at me,  
Speak it at once, I am collected,  
And dare all Shafts that level at this Head:  
If it concern thyself, let it not flow too fast,  
But rather let my Ears receive it  
By such Degrees as may not kill too soon,  
But leave me some Life only to revenge it.  Uran. 
The King, (although my Father, I must speak)  
The King, for whom you shed your Blood abroad,  
Has ill-rewarded you at home.  Cesar. 
Speak, how?  Uran. 
Since your departure, here arrived a Prince,  
From Thessaly, permitted by my Father,  
To make his Court to me, which I resisted;  
His Personal Visits, Messages, rich Presents,  
Left me not quiet to enjoy myself;  
I told him I had given my Faith already,  
Contracted yours: Impatient of my Answers,  
He urged his Greatness, vowed he would possess me;  
Yet I resisted still, and still am free,  
Preserved, and welcome home, my dearest Lord.  Cesar. 
Is't possible?  Uran. 
This is but half the Story;  
By his Command none dare salute your Victory▪  
Or pour their glad Hearts forth at your Return:  
Nay more; Unless I yield to wed the Prince  
And you yourself too grant your free Consent,  
Has vowed your everlasting Banishment:  
And in it murders me, for when you're gone,  
I cannot, will not, must not, dare not live.  Cesar. 
Yes, live Urania, tho' you live my Rival's▪  
Let not the Icy arms of Death enfold thee.  
Better thy Sex beside were all extinguished,  
And thou the only Godlike Woman left  
T'adorn the World. Vincentio, dost hear this?  
We must ask pardon that we have been valiant,  
Repent our Duties, and that Victory  
We bought so dear. We should have died abroad,  
And then perhaps, been talked of, in the Crowd  
Of honest men, for giving up those Lives,  
Which, for our service, they may now take from us.  
We are not yet i'th' Snare, and have the power  
To stifle their designs.  Vincent. 
The Soldiers hearts are yours.  Cesar. 
No, no, Vincentio, let 'em be the King's.  
If such as they forget their Office, we  
Must keep our Thoughts unstained: I'll to the King,  
But without any Train.  Sigis. 
In this you do not consult your Safety.  Cesar. 
Safety is a Lecture  
To be read to Children. But for me, I carry  
My own Security within. The King I know  
Is gracious, tho' at present  
His Passion reigns too strongly in his Breast.  Uran. 
Hear me, Cesario, e'er you see the King.  
Hear me, or poor Urania's lost for ever.  Cesar. 
What says my Love?  Uran. 
Swear then to grant my Suit,  
And I will name the means to make us happy.  Cesar. 
Oh speak!  
And bless my Ears with the dear Sound:  Uran. 
Command your Soldiers first to greater distance.  Cesar. waves his hand, the Soldiers fall back. 
You see Cesario, how our Hopes are crossed:  
And if you love, as you have often swore,  
You will not stop at any thing to gain me.  Cesar. 
Propose a Means that may not blot my Fame,  
Nor make me Traitor to my Sovereign:  
Not all the Dangers that can threaten Man,  
Shall bar Cesario from Urania's Arms.  Uran. 
Were it not better in some distant Clime,  
To live, and love, and peaceably possess  
The small Remainder of our Lives to come?  
What, though we quit all glittering Pomp and Greatness;  
The busy, noisy Flatteries of Court;  
We shall enjoy Content, in that alone  
Is Greatness, Power, Wealth, Honour all summed up.  Cesar. 
I cannot guests thy Meaning;  
Instruct me plainer what you'd have me do.  Uran. 
Since then the King will ne'er let me be thine,  
Let's in the dead of Night retire from Court,  
And to th' Arcadian Plains direct our Steps;  
There amongst Nymphs and Shepherds we may live,  
And quite forget that we were ever great.  Cesar. 
My Soul, my more than Life! now thou art too kind;  
But can my dear Urania, born a Princess,  
Nursed up in all the Tenderness of Power;  
The Pride, the Pomp and Glory of a Court;  
From her Arched Roofs, and Golden Towers, descend  
To homely Weeds, and humble Cottages,  
And all for worthless me?  Uran. 
For thee, my Love!  
Thou Lord of all my Joys! Cells, Caves, and Deserts,  
Are Palaces with thee, Oh my Cesario!  
There there where True Love reigns is only Empire.  Cesar. 
Thou Angel-kind, and more than Angel fair!  Sigism. 
My Lord, the King comes this way.  Uran. 
Now, Cesario, thou hast thy Choice, Love or Ambition;  
Either to challenge bravely, or resign me poorly:  
But yet, might I instruct you in your Choice,  
Since rather than wed Ferdinand, this hand  
Should give me Death; yet Oh▪ If I must die,  
Let me expire in Pleasure, not in Torment,  
If thou disclaimst me, slighted and despised,  
In that distracted Thought I shall die wretched;  
But if my dearest Lord will Nobly own me,  
Charmed with that Bliss▪ then I can breathe out Life  
Like Saints in martyrdom; not one weak Nerve,  
Or shivering sigh shall of the Dart complain,  
But the great cause shall sweeten all the pain.  Cesa. 
Guide me you Gods in this Unhappy Labyrinth. Enter King, Ferdinand, Oswell, Fabio, etc. Cesa. kneels.  
Most Royal Sir, Alas, you too much honour  
The poor Cesario; who at your Feet  
Lays all his Laurels, the fair Grove,  
That your kind Sun has warmed and cherished.  King. 
Did I not give you a strict Charge, that none  
〈◊〉 pass the Gates? Tell me how she came hither?  To Fab. Fab. 
Indeed, an't please your Majesty, you did  
Give Order that no Man should, but she said  
She was a Woman, and I asked no farther.  King. 
Hence you Buffoon.  
Cesario, rise. I shall not flatter you▪  
Nor indeed have I any Grace for him,  
Who durst attempt to steal my Kingdom's Heir.  Cesa. 
Thus prostrate to the Earth, I sue for Pardon,  
That my ambitious Passion soars so high.  
But oh, there's Irresistless Force in Love;  
The Gods have felt it, then can Man withstand it.  
Such is my Fate, nay kill me, 'tis the same;  
For though I know 'tis Death to ask the Gift,  
Yet on my Knees I beg the fair Urania.  King. 
What says the Traitor! off, thy Breath will blast me,  
I see it, like a Mist, infect the Air.  
Good Gods! was ever Insolence like this!  
But sure I dream, this cannot be Cesario.  
Vincentio, Soldiers speak, is this your General?  Ferd. 
Yes, yes, Great Sir. This is that Valiant Man,  
That fought for Loyalty, and not Ambition.  
Now you may see for what he drew his Sword,  
'Twas for Urania that he fought and Conquered;  
'Tis she, 'tis she, that must be his reward:  
O Sir, deny him not, make him your Son,  
Mould that course humble Clay t' Imperial Honour:  
And mix it with the Royal Blood of Naples.  Cesa. 
This humble Clay! what sayst thou haughty Lord!  
By Heaven that Tongue, did not the King protect it,  
Had better challenge jove, and all his Thunder,  
Thou titled Vanity! thou Courtier, made for peace,  
How much my Merits, for the fair Urania,  
Exceed thy poor Pretences; thou all Feather,  
Too tender for the very Wind to ruffle:  
When Wars loud Trumpet, in a Field of Death,  
Called me to wounds, and died me o'er in Blood,  
Thou slepst securely, lulled on Beds of Down,  
Less soft than the effeminate Lord that filled 'em.  King. 
Be silent, Traitor, this is perfect Raving;  
Your Valour has been paid in the Success;  
What you have done was Duty.  Cesar. 
True, it was;  
I must confess that it was Duty all.  King. 
To show us then you have not mixed our Cause  
With private and particular Revenge,  
Resolve, before tomorrow Sun appears,  
To quit Urania to Prince Ferdinand,  
Or be for ever banished from Our Kingdom;  
And, Daughter, resolve you to meet his Love,  
And make Cesario to your Heart a Stranger,  
Or else expect to feel the worst of Tortures;  
Consult your safest way. Come, Gentlemen,  
And from a grateful King you all shall find  
The just Reward that's due to Truth and Honour.  Uran. 
Ah my prophetic Fear! To night, Cesario.  Aside. Cesar. 
To night, my fair Remembrancer.  Aside to Uran. Exeunt King, Ferd. Osw. Fab. Vincent. Sigism. and Soldiers. Manent Cesario and Urania. Cesar. 
Good Heaven! Can this be real? what, all gone!  
ay, that this morning was the Lord of Thousands,  
Am not the Owner now of one poor Servant:  
Banished from Love, or Naples; this is hard:  
But yet indeed 'tis not a wonder here,  
In this unhospitable Court of Naples.  
So my unhappy Brother fell before me,  
Who, for the slaying of this King's Court Minion,  
Was doomed for ever from his Native Soil.  
Oh Tachmas! what e'er Corner of the World  
Now hides thy exiled Head? Thy wretched Brother,  
The poor Cesario too must share thy Fate.  
Yes; we will hasten to some Rural Seat,  
And never more in Cursed Courts be great:  
And when I go t' enjoy Her Sacred Charms,  
What though I quit the World in those dear Arms!  
Oh with what glory will th' exchange be given,  
When I shall Lose Earth only, and find Heaven!  Exit Cesa.  

ACT III. SCENE I.  Enter King, Ferdinand, Oswell, Guards, and Attendants. King. 
Go! 'tis impossible they should escape.  Osw. 
We've searched o'er all the Court, but 'twas in vain,  
Cesario and Urania in the Night  
Fled from the Palace, but which way they took,  
Not all our care can learn.  Ferd. 
Curses pursue him.  
Some Whirlwind snatch him up, and on the back  
Of his Rough Wings, transport the wandering Ravisher,  
And Drop his Cursed Head into the Sea;  
Or land him in some cold, remote, wild Desert;  
There to inhabit amongst Brutes and Savages,  
O' th' two the Innocenter Beasts of Prey.  King. 
My Lord, it is not Rage can help us now,  
But e'er they are fled too far make swift pursuit,  
Leave not a Corner of my Realm unsearched:  
Prepare me Men and Horse immediately:  
I'll after 'em myself.  Ferd. 
Most Royal Sir.  
See at your Feet, an Injured Prince thus kneels,  
And begs that trust may be reposed in him.  King. 
Thy Suit is granted; Haste, delay not then,  
Bring him alive or dead, I care not which.  
O that I could Command a flash of Lightning;  
Or usurp one minute the Prerogative of Death.  
That I might shoot ruin as sudden on 'em,  
As Waters fall from Mountains, but away,  
There is no danger now like our delay.  Ex. King, Attendants. Ex. Omn. Scene, A Wood Enter Cesario, and Urania disguised. Cesa. 
Come, my Soul's Joy, let not such painted griefs  
Press down thy Spirits, the darkness but presents  
Shadows of fear; for it is that secures us  
From dangerous pursuit.  Ura. 
Would it were day.  
My apprehension is so full of horror,  
I think each found the airs light motion makes,  
To be my Father threatening our ruins,  
With all the storm of his impending Vengeance.  Cesa. 
Fear not that thunder blast, whose Bolts too far to reach us,  
Wrapped in the Arms of Night that favours Lovers,  
We hitherto have scaped his eager search.  Ura. 
But when will it be day, the light has comfort,  
Our first of useful senses being lost,  
The rest are less delighted.  Cesa. 
The early Cock  
Has sung his Summons to the days approach▪  
'Twill instantly appear, why starts my Love?  Ura. 
Heard you no sound?  Cesa. 
Sound!  Ura. 
Some amazing sound.  
Pray listen.  Cesa. 
'Tis thy fear suggests  
Illusive fancies. Under Love's protection  
We may presume of safety, but retire,  
And under yond kind Tree repose a while.  Ex. Enter four Banditti. 1 Band. 
Well, my dear Comrades of the Pad, prithee how Long have we, Brother Rogues, hung in a knot together.  2 Band. 
Hung together! hum, I don't like that word hanging▪  
But if you mean, how long we have fairly robbed together—  1 Band. 
Robbed; pox, that's as bad as tother;  
Give it a genteeler Name for shame, since we,  
Four Noble Captains, Sons of Thunder,  
And Brothers of Mercury, have been planted  
In the Post of Honour, and given the Words of Command,  
Stand, and deliver.  2 Band. 
ay, this is something like.  3 Band. 
'Tis, let me see, some five Summers, And almost as many Winters.  1 Band. 
And in all that time, I have been musing  
And hammering to find out, whether the Mystery of Thieving  
Be an Art, or a Science.  3 Band. 
Oh fie, fie, a Science! most certain, and a Liberal Science too; for the People give all, and we take all.  Omnes. 
Ay, Ay; A Liberal Science, A Liberal Science.  1 Band. 
But come, Less Prattle, and more Business;  
For if these Eavesdroppers of mine have not damnably deceived me,  
Here must be Game abroad: I'm certain,  
I heard talking hard by, and if the Devil does not play booty,  
We shall have a Prize quickly.  3 Band. 
Say you so? hush then, and sculk.  They retire to the side of the Stage. Re-enter Cesario and Urania. Uran. 
Sure, my Cesario, this is more than Fancy!  
Did you not hear some talk?  Cesar. 
These must be Robbers:  
No matter; I've a Sword ne'er failed me yet;  
Though I'd not stain it with the Blood of Villains.  2 Band. 
I think, I have you, Sir.  Lays hold on Ces. left Arm. Cesar. 
Thy Death thou hast;  Cesario Runs him through. 
But there's yet more to do e'er I am ta'en.  They fight off, Band. give way. Uran. 
My Lord, Cesario, whither do you run?  
Come back, and shun, by flight, the Villains Swords:  
He's lost, he's lost! what will become of me!  
Whether, Oh! whether? which way shall I take!  Ex. confusedly, at the wrong Door. Re-enter Cesario bloody, his Sword drawn. Cesar. 
Urania! my Love, my Life, where art thou?  
My Soul! speak to me, 'tis Cesario calls.  
By Heavens! I fear she has forsook the place,  
And wanders in the dark to find me out.  
Oh! I could rave; but see, the Day appears.  
Blessed Lamp of Heaven, lead, lead me to Urania;  
With thy kind rising Beams guide me once more  
To those dear Eyes, thy Sister-Twins of Light,  
Or shroud me, Gods, in Everlasting Night.  Ex. Ces. Scene changes to another Part of the Wood Enter Urania. Uran. 
The Day begins to break, and trembling Light,  
As if affrighted with this Night's Disaster,  
Steals through the farthest, Air, and by degrees  
Salutes my weary Longings; yet 'tis welcome,  
Though it betray me to the worst of Fate  
Love and Desire e'er suffered: Oh Cesario!  
Thy wished for Presence would have checked these Passions,  
And shot Delight through all the Mists of Sadness:  
But thou art lost; and all my Joys are fled;  
Ne'er to return without thee.  Enter First and Third Banditti. 1 Band. 
Have we found you!  
Seize her, Fabrichio, our Companion's Blood,  
Shed by your Hero, you shall now atone for.  
Drag her along, and tie her to yon Tree,  
Where we, by turns, will quench our furious Appetites.  Uran. 
Kill me; Oh! kill me; rather let me die  
Than live to see the Jewel that adorns  
The Souls of virtuous Virgins ravished from me!  
Do not add Sin to Sin, and, at a Price  
That ruins me, and not enriches you,  
Purchase Damnation: Do not, do not do't.  
Sheath here your Swords, and my departing Soul,  
Like your good Angel, shall solicit Heaven  
To dash out your Offences. See, here's Gold and Jewels;  
Take all, nay, had I more you should command,  
But do not stain my Virtue.  3 Band. 
Ay, this is something;  
I love a Lass that pays well for her Pleasure.  
Come, let's stop her Mouth, I long till we're aboard her.  Uran. 
Help, Murder, Murder, a Rape.  Ex. Band. dragging Uran. Enter Cesario. Cesar. 
For ever gone, yet I am still alive!  
Unpitying Gods, why have you snatched her from me?  Uran. within. 
Help, Help, a Rape!  3 Band. 
Stop her Mouth.  Cesar. 
Ha! do I dream, or was't Urania's Voice?  Uran. within. 
Help, Murder, a Rape!  Cesar. 
Help! to that Fair distressed quick let me fly:  
Not a departing Soul would mount with half the Wings  
To reach his Heaven, as I to rescue mine.  Ex. hastily. The Scene draws, and discovers Urania tied to a Tree by the Hair, the Banditti's on each side of her. Uran. 
Yet, yet, be merciful and take my Life:  
Oh barbarous Men; how can you be thus cruel?  3 Band. 
Barbarous d'ye call us? nay if this be cruel  
We'll try a kinder way of Love to please you.  Uran. 
Dear Sir, if ever Virtue, Mercy, Pity dwelled in your noble Breast!  1 Band. 
If ever Passion, and warm Desire  
Dwelled in my boiling Veins, I love thee.  Uran. 
Is this Love?  1 Band. 
No, but though this be not,  
We'll show thee what it is before we part.  Enter Cesario with his Sword drawn, he drives 'em off. Cesar. 
Dogs, Bloodhounds, Cannibals; Death! do you fly?  
Your Crimes so heavy, and your Heels so light.  
Stay, Satyrs, stay, you vanishing Furies, stay,  
And take your dear Damnation e'er you go.  Unbinds Uran Uran. 
My kind Cesario, this is double Joy,  
To be preserved, and hold thee in my Arms.  Cesar. 
Yes, in thy Arms thy blessed Cesario lives;  
Thy dear, thy soft, thy charming, and I hope  
Thy unpolluted Arms, for say, my Soul,  
Art thou unspotted still? as (if there be  
Those Guardian-Gods that secure Virtue) sure  
Heaven has not suffered those infernal Monsters,  
To rifle this dear Casket of Divinity.  Uran. 
I am yet spotless, thank your happy self,  
My lovely Champion, whose delivering Hand  
Has freed my darling Honour.  Cesar. 
I believe thee,  
For thou'rt all Truth, the Innocence on that Face  
Says thou art chaste, the guilty cannot speak  
So heavenly as thou dost.  Enter Tachmas in the Habit of a Hermit. Tach. 
What mournful Pair is this, whose very Looks  
Inform me they are loaden with Misfortunes?  
Ha! 'tis Cesario, by my Wrongs, my Brother!  
Oh Alphonzo! Oh thou most barbarous King!  
By Heaven, I find more Gratitude 'mong Beasts,  
Than ever dwelled within the Court of Naples.  
The Blessings of the Day upon you both.  Uran. 
We thank you, Reverend Father; and if Pity  
E'er dwelled within your Breast, Ah, show it now!  
Show it to us, the most unhappy Pair,  
That e'er were punished by offended Heaven.  Tach. 
Who e'er you are, you look indeed most wretched;  
And Charity obliges me to help you.  
Under yon Mountain, in the Earth's deep Hollow,  
I have a Cell; please you to walk that way;  
What Comforts that can yield you shall command.  Ces. 
Eternal Blessings crown you, for this Goodness:  
Come, my dear Saint, let's to this Hermet's Cell,  
And take that Refuge his poor Mansion yields;  
None can fear Danger where Religion shields.  Ex. Omnes. The Scene changes to the Palace. Enter King attended. King. 
No Tidings yet! no News from Ferdinand!  
Curses and Plagues pursue this pair of Monsters,  
Sink, sink 'em in a Whirlpool of Confusion.  
If they are fled by Land, gape, gape thou Earth,  
And take into thy Womb the stinging Vipers:  
But if by Sea, if they that way 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Blow Winds, and raise ah Everlasting storm,  
Till you have laid 'em in a Wat'ry Grave.  Attend. 
My Liege, they may be found.  King. 
They may, they shall.  
Not the deep Centre of the Earth shall hide 'em.  
Nay, were they guarded by a band of Furies,  
And kept secure in the Infernal Court.  
I would myself Assault the brazen Gates,  
And in despite of Hell complete my Vengeance.  Attend. 
Do not torment yourself, great Sir, with passion,  
All care imaginable's ta'en to find'em.  
Prince Ferdinand himself is in purshit,  
And no disguise can hide 'em from his sight.  King. 
Disguise! by Heaven had I but followed 'em,  
Not all the shapes of Proteus should secure 'em.  
Argus with all his hundred watchful Eyes,  
Had been but blind to my discovering Vengeance;  
And when I'd got the Fugitives in my Power,  
I'd use the Infamous abandoned Miscreants,  
The profligated Vagrants with less Mercy  
Than she has done my Peace, or he her Honour.  
Oh like a Falcon I'd the Quaries seize,  
And grind and tear their Souls out by degrees.  Ex. Omn. Scene changes to the Hermit's Cell. Enter Cesario and Urania. Cesa. 
My Dear Urania, Miracle of Women.  
Was ever Love so great, so true as thine;  
Clasped in thy snowy Arms, I find more bliss,  
Than Sceptered Pride, and Crowned ambition tastes,  
In all their gust of Power, and wreaths of Gold.  
But my sweet Excellence, I've been unkind.  Ura. 
Unkind!  Cesa. 
Unkind, my Angel,  
To take such Beauty, born a Kingdom's Heir,  
Light of my World, and Treasure of my Soul,  
Nursed up in all the softnesses of Courts,  
And poorly strip thee to these homely Weeds,  
Misery and want, and lodged in Woods and Caves:  Ura. 
Whilst thou art with me, they are Palaces,  
For the Reception of an Eastern Monarch,  
Abandon Crowns and Courts for Woods and Caves:  
And is that all, can thy Urania do  
No greater Miracle for Love than this?  
True Love should quit the World, to grov'llng Minds  
Resign that worthless Toy, the gewgaw Globe,  
And leave the bandied Ball for Fools to play with.  Cesa. 
Mirror of Goodness, thou art all Divine;  
The Trojan Youth whose dazzled Eyes surveyed  
Three Tempting, Courting Goddesses at once,  
Did not behold thy worth.  Enter Tachmas. Tac. 
How fares my Son?  
What are you still oppressed with Melancholy?  
Come, you're to blame, for though your Cheer be mean,  
Your Company a wretched poor old Man,  
Here is Content, and sure in that alone  
Lies all the happiness Man can desire.  Cesa. 
Most Reverend Sir, you show such wondrous goodness,  
We never shall have Power to recompense,  
But oh forgive us if our weighty griefs,  
Too heavy to be born, pull down this sadness.  Tac. 
Alas, Cesario!  Cesa. 
Ha! thou know'st me sure.  Tac. 
As thou didst once, thy wretched Brother Tachmas.  Discovers himself. Cesa. 
By Heaven and Earth, by all that we call sacred,  
'Tis he; my Brother. Oh let me thus Clasp thee,  
Crush thee into my heart, my dearest Tachmas.  
Methinks I hold half Heaven when I embrace thee.  
See my Urania: now if thou sheddest tears,  
Let'em be tears of Joy to see my Brother,  
Banished from Naples by thy Cruel Father,  
For killing his base, cringing, fawning Favourite.  Ura. 
I Joy to see the Brother of Cesario, though in affliction.  
Oh my dearest Lord.  Cesa. 
How does my Love? Methinks I see  
A sickly fading on thy lovely Cheeks,  
A languid paleness on those drooping Roses,  
As thou wouldst sink beneath the weight thou bear'st.  Ura. 
Indeed, Cesario, I am wondrous faint,  
My wearied Limbs, and my long sleepless Eyes,  
The Night's keen Blasts, and all my frights and fears,  
Have pressed a little rudely on my health;  
And this too tender Frame bends down before 'em.  Cesa. 
And all this for Cesario, Cursed Cesario,  
The Impious Fatal Cause of all thy Sufferings,  
The Atlas Load of thy o'er-burthening woes.  Ura. 
Oh hold, this is too much to hear and live,  
Shake not your Peace for me, that shock will sink me;  
For I can bear all Sorrows, but Cesario.  Tac. 
Dear, Faithful Pair.  
Were all Hearts joined like these, the Erring World  
Would shake her guilt off, with her blushing shame,  
And the revolving Age of gold return.  Cesa. 
My Friend and Brother, my Beloved, kind Tachmas,  
This fainting sweetness wants thy helping care:  
Your Roots and Water are not for her diet,  
Is there no way to purchase other food?  Tac. 
Hard by there is a little Neighbouring Village,  
Where we may be supplied with necessaries.  Cesa. 
Droop not, fair Flower, since we may yet find Peace.  
Though now we're like the first unhappy pair,  
Cast from that Paradise where once we were,  
Like Fugitives banished our native home,  
And destined through unpeopled Worlds to roam:  
Yet we may hope a smiling Morn more fair,  
For sure, (to banish all unjust despair)  
Such truth as thine is Heavens peculiar care.  Ex. omnes. 
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IV. SCENE I.  Urania, Sola. Ura. 
HOW long, my Dear Cesario, shall I want  
Thy presence, to drive all these troubles hence▪  
My Soul is heavy, and my Eyelids feel  
A pressing weight that fain woned shut out light,  
And let in Peace; hush my lulled Sorrows silent,  
And give my feeble strength a short repose.  
More Clouds do gather round my Eyes, 'tis strange,  
I am not used to be inclined to sleep,  
Whilst the day shines. I'll take what nature offers,  
It may discharge my waking Melancholy; Sits down.  
I feel it gently slide upon my Senses:  
Take me you Heavenly Rulers to your Care,  
And let my Dreams be nothing but Cesario.  Lies down. Enter Ferdinand, and Oswell, Attendants. Ferd. 
I cannot find 'em, sure the Prince of Darkness,  
Or some of his Commissioned Fiends, have snatched 'em  
From the Orb of Light to hide their guilty shames  
In his own sable shades, black as their Crimes:  
There's not a Corner in this spreading Realm,  
But we have searched with strictest diligence.  Osw. 
My Lord, here lies a Woman, Dead I think.  Ferd. 
A Woman, ha! By Heaven and Earth 'tis she,  
And wrapped in the dull leaden Arms of sleep.  
But where's Cesario? Where lies he Concealed?  
I've happiness by halves, if he escapes.  Osw. 
He cannot be far off, 'twere best, my Lord,  
Behind yond Thicket to conceal yourself,  
Till you have got 'em both within your Snave.  Ferd. 
You Counsel well. Let us a while retire.  
By Heaven, I keep a Jubilee within me;  
Riot in Joy, and Revel in delight,  
To think how bravely I shall take revenge.  Ex. Uran. 
Defend me Heaven! Do I dream still, or wake? Uran. wakes.  
What horrid Visions have appeared before me!  
Methought I saw Cesario gashed with Wounds,  
And Ferdinand all o'er died in his Blood,  
Whilst my Unkind and Cruel Father stood  
Triumphing over him, and with a smile,  
Rejoiced to see his Soul and Body part.  
But why should I give credit to a Dream,  
An airy Vision framed by 〈◊〉 fancy,  
Deluding my weak sense with 〈◊〉 and shadow?  Enter Cesario with a Basket of Meat, Tachmas with Drink. Cesa. 
Look up, Urania, cast thy Sorrow off,  
See, I have brought thee Food to cheer thy Spirits. They all sit down.  
Angels protect her, with how much delight  
She feeds upon the homely fare of Peasants.  Enter Ferdinand, Oswell, and Attendants. Ferd. 
Do you not want Attendants to your Banquet?  
Nay let not us disturb you, we are Friends,  
And only come to take repast with you.  Cesa. 
Cursed Fate! The Guards seize Cesario and Tachmas.  
Surprised, Unarmed! and made so tame a Sacrifice!  Uran. 
Now, now, I see too late my Dreams were true.  Tach. 
Oh, Sir, I beg you would not let me suffer.  
Alas, I'm Innocent, my Charity,  
Obliged me to assist the miserable▪  
Let not your Vengeance fall on an old Man,  
But spare my Age.  Ferd. 
Thou art below my anger.  
Be gone, and keep thy Life, not worth my taking.  Tach. 
How has my Hypocrite Tongue belied my Heart.  
Think not, mistaken Tyrant, that the fear Aside.  
Of Death, makes me so poor a Suppliant.  
When I descend thus low, I only stoop,  
To borrow Life, to lend it my Cesario.  Ex. Tach. Ferd. 
Now, Sir, for you.  To Cesario. Cesa. 
Me! I despise thy rage.  
Let all the Tortures Malice can invent  
Be laid on me, I can endure 'em all;  
But do not dare to touch that Angel-Form,  
Whose unexampled Virtue is alone  
Enough t'atone for all her Sex's Frailty.  
Take heed how you provoke the Gods, by hurting  
That brighest, nearest Image of themselves.  Ferd. 
Young angry Sir, spend not your Breath in vain:  
Keep it to curse the Hour thou sawst that Face:  
I have a Scourge for thee, I have, bold Lord,  
Fierce as the Vengeance of an angry God,  
And swifter than a Pestilence; for You, To Uran.  
In whom I once had treasured up my Soul,  
You're in my Power; my Love is turned to Hate,  
And thou, before thy Face, shalt see her die.  To Cesario. Cesar. 
O bloody Tyrant! aim your Rage at me;  
Send me to Ruin, kill me, wrack me, burn me;  
Do any thing, so you'll but save her Life:  
Think, when you murder that Celestial Form,  
You wound all Mankind at the dismal Blow;  
Not only all the mourning Globe, the Gods  
Themselves will suffer when such Virtue bleeds.  Ferd. 
Most amorous Raptures.  Uran. 
Do not touch one Hair  
Of that dear Gallant, Godlike Man; on mine,  
My Head alone pour all your impious Vengeance.  
Live, my kind, dearest Lord.  Ferd. 
Not Fate shall save him,  
Nor Heaven itself keep thee from my Revenge.  Uran. 
How I disdain thy Rage, 〈◊〉 show thy Malice;  
Kill me as barbarously as thou art base:  
But as I die, I'll send my last kind Looks,  
Sighs, Prayers and Life into Cesario Eyes;  
Nay, though you scatter all my sprinkled Ashes  
Around the World, each Atom of my Dust,  
Shall find a Soul, and fly into his Bosom.  Cesar. 
O mighty Love!  Ferd. 
So brave! nay then I'll find a means to tame you.  
Attend me to my Chariot with the Princess,  
But to your Horse's Tail tie fast that Slave,  
And drag 〈◊〉 to the King.  Uran. 
Hold! Hold! yet hold!  
You do not sure mean this Barbarity:  
How can you look on him, and be so cruel?  
See how he stands like a tame suffering Saint,  
And smiles i'th' midst of all his Miseries.  
If not for him, show pity then to me,  
And though he be your Prisoner use him nobly.  Ferd. 
I'm deaf to all Entreaties. Drag him forward.  Ex. Omnes. The King discovered melancholy, some Attendants standing by him; A Song, and Symphony of Music within. 

SONG.  Written by a Person of Quality. 

1.  
LONG time, alas! our Mournful Swains  
Have been with Fears oppressed:  
And pensive walked along the Plains,  
Pitying their Flocks distress.  
Their Fences all were open laid,  
No Ewes their Lambs could keep,  
Foxes and Ravenous Wolves were made  
The Guardians of their Sheep.   

2.  
Pan was not worshipped as before,  
But saw his learned Rules,  
And justice all turned out of door  
By Arbitrary Fools.  
Phillis for Pan her Charms engaged  
But could no Pity draw.  
They sacrificed to Pagan rage,  
Phillis as well as Law.   

3.  
At length came Strephon on the Plain,  
At whose dread Sight did run,  
And vanish each Tyrannic Swain  
Like Mists before the Sun.  
Then his Brave Head with Garlands Crown,  
And grudge him not your Wealth.  
Ah Shepherds! as you prize your own  
Pray for great Strephon's Health.    King. 
No more; no more; cease all your Harmony,  
It suits not with a Wretch so cursed as I:  
Yet why, unpitying Heaven, this hard Decree!  
There might have been some milder Doom for me.  
Why was my Daughter  
Destined to punish him who gave her Breath,  
And by her Flight to seal a Father's Death?  Enter Fabio hastily. Fabio. 
Where's the King?  King. 
Here; what portends thy Haste and busy Countenance?  Fab. 
Haste, my good Lord!  
When Fortune points me out the Instrument,  
And happy Messenger to please my King;  
Do I not aught to fly like Mercury,  
And pour the Joy into his Royal Ears.  King. 
Has thy Intelligence brought me any Knowledge  
Of Ferdinand? Speak, is Urania found?  Fab. 
The News I bring my gracious Lord,  
Concerns the Prince, and how my Heart flows o'er,  
That I am pointed out by Heaven,  
The first, and happy Messenger.  King. 
Proceed, and we'll reward thee.  Fab. 
Reward, alas!  
All my Ambition aims but at your Favour;  
My Soul was never Mercenary:  
It is my Duty to wear out my Life  
In Services for you and the whole State,  
Whereof, although I am no able Member—  King. 
He's mad.  Fab. 
It is with Joy then, my good Lord.  King. 
Tell me thy News in short, or thy Life pays for't.  Fab. 
Alas, my Life is the least thing to be minded:  
He is no faithful Subject would refuse  
To kill his Wife and Children, after that  
To hang himself to do his King a Service.  King. 
Villain, why dost thou wrack my Expectation?  
Answer me quickly without Circumstance,  
Where is the Prince? be brief, or—  Fab. 
The Prince! I know not, my good Lord.  King. 
Traitor! didst not prepare me to expect  
News of the Prince, pronouncing thyself happy  
In being the Messenger? Is he in health, answer to that?  Fab. 
Indeed, my Lord, I know not.  King. 
Hang up the Slave; I shall become the Scorn  
Of my own Subjects.  Fab. 
But, with your Royal Licence, I am able  
To produce those that do.  King. 
Where? whom? speak that, and quickly save thy Life.  Fab. 
He waits without, Sir.  King. 
Haste, and bring him in.  Ex. Fab. Re-enter Fabio, with Oswell. Oswell. 
Health to the King: the Prince, my Master, Sir,  
With fair Urania, and the General,  
I left within less than a League o'th' City,  
And came before to bring the joyful Tidings.  King. 
Are they then found, thou welcome Harbinger?  
Seized and brought back, Oh! let the Satyrs dance it;  
The sweet Birds sing it; let the Winds be wanton;  
And, as they softly with an Evening Whisper,  
Steal through the curled Locks of the lofty Woods,  
Let 'em, in their sweet Language, seem to murmur,  
This was the Day that Crowned a King's Revenge.  Enter Messenger. Messeng. 
My Lord, Prince Ferdinand.  King. 
Conduct him in.  
Enter Ferdinand. Thou welcom'st Guest my Court yet ever harboured:  
Oh I want Power to recompense thy Care.  
Where be the Fugitives? Speak, Ferdinand.  Ferd. 
They wait without, my Lord.  King. 
Bring 'em in.  Exit Fabio. Re-enter with Cesario and Urania guarded; Cesario and Urania kneel. Cesar. 
With my Soul trembling, like a fearful Criminal,  
With Terror struck at sight of his great Judge:  
Behold the wretched, poor Cesario falls,  
Not to beg Life, since Death I have deserved,  
But that you'd Mercy show to this dear Innocence,  
A Virgin, though my Bride.  Uran. 
O Royal Sir!  
I kneel to you, as Heaven when I offend,  
Not to beg Life, unless my dear Cesario,  
By your Consent, be given to my Arms.  King. 
Rise!  
I've heard you both; and, Sir, your Suit will grant;  
Death thou hast merited, Death thou shalt have:  
Thy Torments, by degrees, shall rise to kill thee;  
And what will plague thy Soul, thy Latest Gasp  
Shall see Urania married to this Prince.  Cesar. 
It is a studied Tyranny; but, Sir,  
All this, and more, I'd bear, might she live happy.  Uran. 
Live, my Cesario I Canst thou think I'll live?  
Live in the Arms of him my Soul abhors!  
No, cruel Father, Nature shall not bind me:  
I will forget 'twas you that gave me Life,  
And, in despite of Duty, be his Bride:  
We'll mount above, far, far beyond your reach;  
Where in a glorious Cloud, we'll Arm in Arm,  
Look down and smile with Scorn on that gay nothing.  King. 
Furies and Death than I will quite put off,  
The name of Father, take as little notice  
Thou art my Offspring, as the surly North  
Does of the Snow, which when it has engendered,  
It's wild Breath scatters through the Earth forgotten.  Ferd. 
Sir, she's your Daughter.  King. 
Do not call her so.  
There's not one drop of my Blood in her Veins.  
She makes herself a Bastard, and deserves  
To be cut off like a disordered Branch,  
Disgracing the fair Tree from whence she sprung.  Ferd. 
But yet, my Lord.  King. 
I'm deaf, inexorable as Seas  
To th'Prayers of Mariners:  
Oswell, be't your care,  
To lodge that hated Slave in a dark Dungeon;  
And confine her close Prisoner to her Chamber.  Ex. King, Ferd. Attended. Cesa. 
Is this for Kindness, or for Cruelty?  
Ah no, he gives me this short moment's sight,  
That I may lose my Heaven with greater torment.  Uran. 
No, my Cesario, we'll both die together:  
For when thou'rt gone, oh what a weary Load  
Will Life be to me!  
But when you see me die, will you be kind?  
And pity my hard fate, when you behold  
My panting Breast laid open, and that Heart,  
Where my dear Lord once Reigned, all torn and mangled?  
Will you look pale, and with a trembling sigh,  
Let a kind Pearl fall trickling from your Eye?  
Say, will you do all this for poor Urania?  Cesa. 
Not do all this for thee; If th' enraged King  
Will wreak his barbarous Vengeance in thy Veins,  
Thy sacred Veins, and the unthinking Gods  
Dare see it done; shall not I mourn for thee?  
Doubt not that pious Tribute of my Eyes.  
Shall not my Dew fall at thy setting Sun?  
Not weep to see thee bleed! I'll make my Eyes  
Start from their Spheres, to view the killing object:  
And when thy sweetness draws near to Heaven,  
My fainting, bleeding Heart,  
Shall just keep Life enough to break with thine.  Uran. 
My kindest Lord, now with full Tides of Joy,  
I can meet death, since he has made me thine.  
My Soul's all Rapture, all Delight; grim Death,  
Whose ghastly Visage frights the trembling World,  
To me's all Gay, and with a charming Smile,  
Does with sweet Wreaths and Flowery Garlands come,  
My Bridal Pleasure's Blossom on my Tomb.  Cesa. 
Now you transport my ravished sense too high,  
The worth of Ages, and thy Sex's glory,  
Is all summed up in thee; but must you die!  
Must this Celestial Light fall like a Meteor!  
This blooming Spring fade like a withered Autumn!  
Must this fair Book of Life, writ by Heaven's Hand,  
The Legend of a God, be all defaced?  
And must I see it done! oh my Urania,  
I never was a Toward till this moment.  Osw. 
My Lord, we wait too long; the King Commanded  
The Princess to her Chamber, you to Prison.  
We must obey him.  Cesa. 
'Tis indeed your duty.  
Resist not Destiny. My Love obey him;  
And leave Cesario with his griefs. Farewell.  
Farewell, for ever, my beloved Urania,  
Till we shall meet again above the Stars.  Uran. 
My Lord, my Life, my Soul, my All, Farewell.  
Grief chokes my words, and I can say no more.  Ex. Ura. Osw. Cesa. 
Come; Gentlemen, now lead me to my Fate,  
For Death's the only thing I wish to find.  
I think there are some here have followed me:  
Where I have sought him oft, but ne'er fled from him.  
But it is past, Cesario▪ now's no more.  
My Fame, Life, Honour's gone: yet what is Death?  
To think no more: and Honours but a Breath.  
But my Urania's lost! nought could provoke  
My Soul to pain like that dire killing stroke.  
Oh that last Wound has touched so near my Heart,  
That Fate's whole Quiver wants another Dart.  Ex. Omn. 
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Scene, A Field. Enter Tachmas, Vincentio, Sigismond, and Soldiers. Vin. 
MY Fellow Soldiers, why we're thus met here,  
This noble Youth, the brave, the valiant Tachmas,  
The banished Brother to your loved Cesario,  
Can best inform you; my Heart swells with grief,  
And cannot tell the story; speak, my Lord,  
And be assured, you're amongst Men, whose Souls  
Do claim an equal share in your Misfortunes.  Tach. 
Then to you Soldiers, props of this great Kingdom,  
Behold I come uncalled from Banishment,  
And give my Life into your noble hands,  
I come a Tale of horror to relate.  
I come to show when Monarchs sleep in Peace,  
What worthless trifles they esteem poor Soldiers,  
May I have leave to speak?  Sould. 
Yes, Speak, speak Tachmas.  Tach. 
Alas, I fear the subject is ungrateful,  
But yet it does concern the general good.  
That Soul of Valour, great Cesario, he,  
Who has, like Lightning, purged the air of Naples,  
From all the hot Infections Foreign War  
Could threaten, and shall he  
Whose very name was great as Fate itself,  
To all his Enemies, now basely die?  Sigis. 
Die! no, he's damned that dares but mutter it.  Vin. 
If they who first occasioned it were so,  
'Twould bring much Comfort to all honest Hearts.  Tach. 
His Death, past all Redemption, is Concluded.  
His Death to whom they owe their Lives. Oh Soldiers,  
You've seen i' th' heat and bravery of a Fight,  
How he'd cheer up his faint, disheartened Troops;  
Even when his Body seemed but all one Wound,  
That it appeared a little Island, Circled  
Round with the purple Deluge of his Blood,  
Who when Wars Queristers, the big-mouthed Drums,  
And surly Trumpets, sung his Army's Dirge,  
That fatal Music swelled his sprightly Sense,  
More than soft Hymns at Nuptials.  Sigis. 
Sir, His Glories  
Are so well known to us, we need not urge  
th'repetition, but 'tis past my thoughts,  
Why on the sudden he should be compelled  
To yield his Life up.  Vin. 
Nay, when we returned  
From our last Victory, when we expected  
He should have had a double Triumph given▪  
In honour of our Victories, the King,  
And his wise State, received us as their Foes,  
What could they mean by that?  Tach. 
I'll tell you, Sir.  
There is in Princes Courts a lean-faced Monster  
Termed Envy (Reigning in Unworthy Breasts,)  
To Fame's Heroic Sons, such as can cringe  
With subtle motion to their Prince's smiles,  
Adore his Footsteps, and his awful Nod●,  
And can like Asps instil into his Ears,  
A sweet, yet killing Venom. These thin Souls,  
When the blunt Warrior has on Piles of Wounds  
Built up his Country's Safety, whisper, Beware  
In time, my Lord, lest he do grow too great.  
So the poor Soldier is in time of Peace,  
Stripped of those Glories purchased in the War.  Vin 
But Sir, why must he die?  Tach. 
Only for loving of his Monarch's Daughter.  
Tell me, Is that a Crime deserving Death?  
Speak, if it be, and I will plead no more.  Vin. 
A Crime! 'Udsdeath, my Lord, he does deserve her:  
H'as bravely fought, and bravely conquered for her.  
Speak Fellow Soldiers, shall these Court Mushrooms,  
That live in Peace, and Riotous Luxury,  
Deny a fasting Soldier one poor snap,  
After long abstinence? It may not be:  
And for your foreign Prince, your Ferdinand,  
We'll spoil his Vaulting, every Man a Limb,  
Will quickly cool his Courage.  Tach. 
Yet, Soldiers, tho' I beg you'd save your General,  
Preserve your Loyalties. Oh, for bear the King,  
And his dear sacred Person reverence,  
As if he were a God, and dwelled on Earth.  Vincen. 
We'll save the King and General; but if  
They'll take my Counsel, hang up Ferdinand.  Soldiers. 
Ay, ay, well said, noble Colonel, Long live  
Our King and General, and a Halter for Ferdinand.  Tach. 
Let me embrace you all, all to my Bosom,  
You Limbs of Mars. Who when Fate calls you hence,  
Will leave behind each man a Monument,  
Which shall for Ages last with this Inscription;  
The Sons of Honour, Naples great Preservers.  
Sure to such Men belong those mighty Names,  
Who saved their General, yet preserved their Fames.  Ex. Omn.  

SCENE II.  Urania discovered Reading. A Song within. 

SONG.  Written by a Person of Quality. Sung by Mrs. Boteler. 

1.  
COrinna, in the Bloom of Youth,  
Was coy to every Lover;  
Regardless of the tenderest Truth,  
No soft Complaints could move her:  
Mankind was hers, and at her Feet  
Lay prostrate and adoring,  
The Witty, Valiant, Rich and Great▪  
Alike in vain imploring.   

2.  
But now grown Old she would repair  
The Loss of Time and Pleasure;  
With willing Looks, and wanton Air,  
Inviting every Gazer:  
But Love's a Summer-Flower, that dies  
With the first Wether's Changing.  
The Lover, like the Swallow, flies  
From Sun to Sun still ranging.   

3.  
Cloe, let this Example move  
Your foolish Heart to Reason:  
Youth is the proper Time for Love,  
And Age is Virtue's Season.    Uran. 
In vain, alas! you strive to give me Ease:  
Music to lull my Pains, dull soothing Flattery!  
The pressing weight that hangs upon my Soul,  
Nought but my dear Cesario can remove:  
All Props are weak where the Foundation's Love.  Enter Oswell. Osw. 
O Royal Mourner, lovely in thy Tears!  
Thus low I fall to beg a blushing Pardon,  
For the sad Story I am doomed to tell.  Uran. 
How, my Heart trembles! speak, what is't, Sir?  
If there be yet a greater Grief in store,  
Speak it, and kill Urania with the Sound.  
Yes, Oswell, play the generous Executioner:  
Give me the last kind, finishing Stroke of Mercy,  
And end my lingering Torments at a Blow.  Osw. 
The Gods, and all good Powers guard your Life;  
And O that I had died e'er lived Commissioned,  
For this ungrateful Charge: doomed to pronounce  
The only Sound can make Urania wretched.  Uran. 
I guess the Horror, yet I fear to know it.  Osw. 
And I, thus trembling, stand and fear to utter it,  
Yet you must hear it, yes, the fatal Sound  
Must reach your Ears, and some cursed Tongue must tell you  
Your dear Cesario murdered.  Uran. 
Murdered!  Osw. 
Yes, murdered by the King's Command.  Uran. 
Enough, Oh cruel Father!  Osw. 
The Prince, my Master, touched with his long▪ Sufferings,  
Heard, but too late, of the King's harsh Decree,  
And flew, with Eagles' speed, to stop the Blow,  
But Oh too late! their bloody butchering hands,  
Already were imbrued in his warm Blood;  
His last words pardoned his unhappy Rival,  
And as o'th' Ground they lay clasped Arm in Arm,  
Like faithful Friends, they mourned each other's Fortune.  Uran. 
Oh speak no more!  Osw. 
Yes, I am bound to speak:  
The Prince, as by Cesario side he lay,  
With truest Tears bathing his bleeding Wounds,  
And, with these words, thrown in like precious Balm,  
Had almost stopped the Journey of his Soul.  
Live, live, (said he) Urania is thy own,  
To make Atonement for thy mighty Wrongs,  
I'll quit my Love.  Uran. 
Dissembling Infidel!  Aside. Osw. 
But when he saw his Veins did ebb too fast,  
And Life flew swift away, he snatched his Sword,  
And, e'er my Hand could reach to stop the Blow,  
Plunged it in's Breast, but did not reach his Heart;  
Which when Cesario saw, he grasped his Hands,  
Begging that he would live, and called him Friend,  
Go to that widowed Fair, (said he) the poor Urania,  
But first prepare her for the dismal Story:  
Tell her 'tis now too late for her to grieve;  
And as she ever loved her dying Husband,  
Bid her obey the King, who, though unkind,  
Is still my Sovereign, and her Royal Father.  
More he'd have said, but hasty Death rushed in,  
And his last words bequeathed you Ferdinand's.  Uran. 
Ferdinand's, did he, Could he call me his,  
My unkind Lord, didst thou then think I'd live  
After thy Death, and live within his Arms, Aside.  
The Cursed Author of our Cruel Fortunes:  
Though with a painted show of Treacherous Grief,  
He cast a mist before thy dying Eyes. Aside.  
The Masque's too thin for mine— Pray Sir, retire— To Osw.  
And tell Prince Ferdinand, 'twill not be long,  
Ere I am happy in his love— or Heavens—  Aside. Osw. 
I shall obey your Highness— Oh true Woman— Aside.  
The living still are valued, not the dead——  Ex. Osw. Uran. 
It is decreed, I must not stay behind.  
Yes, yes my Father, thou shalt see thy Daughter,  
When all her Veins stream with a purple source;  
Then he may pity me, and shed one tear;  
Sure Nature will compel him to do that.  Enter Ardelia. Ard. 
Madam, the King Commanded me to wait you  
Straight to the Palace.  Uran. 
I'll attend his Call.  
Now my Cesario, in what e'er bright Region,  
The Mansion of the blessed, where Martyred truth,  
And faithful Love in wreaths of Glory shine,  
I'll find thee out, and mix my Soul with thine.  
Think not mistaken King, Cesario Grave,  
The narrow Gulf of parting Worlds between us,  
Shall be a bar to love resolved like mine▪  
Yes, Dearest Martyr, 'tis by Love decreed,  
That thy Urania at thy Stake shall bleed;  
Since Faith and Truth such poor Rewards are given,  
What is denied on Earth, we'll seek in Heaven.  Ex.  

SCENE III.  A Prison. Cesario discovered on a Couch. Enter Ferdinand and Oswell. Ferd. 
You think she may be won then?  Osw. 
May, most Certain.  
Nay, Sir, you have her own Confession for't,  
Her foolish Tongue in the last words dropped from her,  
Could not forbear to tell me so; alas,  
What Woman ever yet admired the dead,  
When there were living Lovers to be found?  Ferd. 
Then he must die: Oswell, wait you without,  
And let none Enter here, unless the King.  Osw. 
I shall obey your Orders.  Ex. Oswell. Cesario Rises▪ Cesa. 
More Torments still! Why dost thou bring to plague me,  
The only Person of the World I hate?  Ferd. 
And why that Person of the World so hateful?  Cesa. 
Because that Person poorly entertains  
A sordid Soul within, which shames the Lodging.  Ferd. 
Bold Man!  Cesa. 
Yes, bolder Lord. Thou that dar'st act  
What Man would blush to think.  Ferd. 
Blush!  Cesa. 
Blush, false Greatness.  
Inglorious titled Wretch, Panthers and Leopards  
Are spotless to thy Stains, those kind Devourers,  
The Innocenter, honourabler Savages;  
They chase blood fairer than the treacherous Ferdinand,  
Run down their hunted Prey in open Field,  
Not snare'em into toils, mewed up for Sacrifice,  
In Dungeon Walls, as thou hast done Cesario.  Ferd. 
Vile Arrogant, how Impudent is guilt?  
When with such Rude, and Villainous Reflections,  
Thou dar'st impeach the Justice of thy punishment.  Cesa. 
Justice, my bold Tormenter!  Ferd. 
Justice, Miscreant.  
The just reward of thy too bold Ambition.  
As well the tumbling Lucifer might challenge  
His Fall; call his Damnation Martyrdom,  
Plunged in his Flames for his aspiring Pride,  
As thou in Chains for thine.  Cesa. 
Infamous Tyrant,  
How poorly dost thou prop thy Impious Cause,  
And gild the Face of Butchery? Royal Hangman,  
Take thy Face hence, my persecuting Cerberus.  
Sure in the Grave I shall not rest in Peace,  
If Prisons cannot guard me from thy Malice.  Ferd. 
Malice, alas, canst think I bear thee Malice!  
Imperial brightness Envy at a shadow!  
Malign thee! yes, when Stars repine at gloeworms.  
Oh that thou stoodst but some tall Mountain Cedar,  
With all thy Pride and Glory raised up high,  
That I might plow thy Root up with a blast;  
But since a Village Shrub is all my aim,  
And my low Vengeance has no nobler game;  
My blushing shame, withholds my arm of fate.  Cesa. 
A Shrub! that name from him, that needs my pity!  
From him that lives in Torment, I in Pleasure,  
Raptures and Ecstasies, my Jail Companions;  
Whilst Fiends and Goblins haunt thee, even to Thrones,  
Break thy distracted sleeps on Beds of Gold:  
From my Urania's love, her love, poor Prince,  
There Darts that Beam as lights my very Dungeon,  
Imprints a softness, even in Chains and Death,  
Whilst thou, the little object of her hate,  
Must bear about thee an Eternal Hell,  
And beg in vain of that dear Heaven for ease▪  Enter Oswell. Osw. 
My Lord the King.  Ferd. 
Now tremble at thy doom.  Cesa. 
Why should I dread the only thing I▪ covet?  
You seek a Life that I desire to lose.  Enter King. Shout within. King. 
Hell and Confusion seize their clamorous Throats!  
Oh Ferdinand, I am beset with Ruin,  
My very Slaves oppose my Royal Justice;  
And dare rebel to save a traitor's Life.  Ferd. 
Great, Sir, what storm is this that shakes your quiet?  King. 
Dost thou not hear the bellowing Crowd proclaim it?  
The scum of Earth, those neverfailing Rebels,  
Join with the Soldiers to preserve Cesario:  
But in despite of that ungoverned Herd,  
A Monarch's hand shall send him from the World.  Draws and runs at Cesario, Ferd. stops him. Ferd. 
Hold, Sacred Sir.  King. 
Wilt thou oppose me too?  Ferd. 
Most sacred Sir, that stroke requires more thought,  
Should you thus cut him off, the incensed Rabble  
Would throw aside all Duty and Allegiance,  
And on your Royal Head pour all their fury;  
Affection in your stubborn multitude,  
Is a prone Torrent not to be withstood.  
Were you as sacred, Sir, as Heaven itself,  
Yet when you stop the current of their Will,  
They'll break all Bands of duty, and profane  
That Holiness, to which they'd bound their Faiths.  
Appease them first, which when you have performed,  
A private way may finish your Revenge.  King. 
Must I then crouch and fawn to crawling Mud,  
Would I could Curse the Traitors from the Earth.  
But oh the wretched State of Kings, my Fate  
Will force my Tongue to flatter where I hate.  Ex. Ferd. 
Dost thou not think thyself secured from harm?  
And with Triumphant smiles despise our fury?  
Dost thou not think the threatning storm that's near,  
Will cast thee safe ashore, and Shipwreck me?  Cesar. 
How silly and how vain is credulous Man!  
Thy Fear suggests what never enters here.  
I see the Woman brooding in thy Eyes,  
And thy Soul bursting with envenomed Malice.  
And oh, how poor is he that's Passion's Slave!  
Let me be stripped of all my Soul holds dear,  
Rob me of Life, and what's more prized, Urania;  
Yet thou shouldst see how my undaunted Soul  
Could bear it all, and smiling quit the World.  Ferd. 
I'll try this boasted Courage: 'tis resolved,  
This hour's thy last, in spite of what can threaten.  
Thou tak'st the freehold of my Soul away,  
Urania and that are but one Creature.  
's Death, I have been a tame Fool all this while,  
Swallowed my Poison in a fruitless hope;  
But my Revenge as heavy as Jove's wrath,  
Wrapped in a Thunderbolt is falling on thee.  Cesar. 
And I can thus undaunted stand the stroke,  
Yes, barbarous Prince, appear in thy true Colours.  
Shake off that dull effeminate Clog, Humanity,  
And if the least remains of Virtue, Honour  
Hang soft upon thy Soul, freeze, freeze thy Veins,  
Crust'em to Rock, and wall thy heart in Marble,  
Inexorable as the Grave, and deaf as Death.  
Bath in my Blood, and mount me to the Stars.  
But know, when from my glorious Constellation,  
I shall look down upon that dark Abyss,  
Where thou liest howling in eternal Flames,  
I'll scorn thee then, as I defy thee now.  Ferd. 
Oh! I am vanquished by this noble Spirit.  
Come to my Arms; my Arms, nay to my Heart.  
There take possession, and remain for ever.  
Cesario, thou shalt find that I have Honour  
equal my Love. Oswell, retire a while,  
But first your Sword, and as you love your Master,  
Ask me not why, nor yet dispute my Orders.  Osw. 
I've ever learned Obedience to my Prince,  
Tho' I much fear the fatal Consequence.  Ex. Oswell. Ferd. 
Cesario, this embrace makes me thy Friend,  
And with it take this more surprising Present.  
Since 'tis decreed that one of us must fall,  
Let Fortune hold the Scale: if 'tis my Fate,  
A long farewell at once to Life and Love.  
But if 'tis doomed this Hand must give thee Death,  
Oh, make but this return with thy last Breath,  
Call me thy Friend, and make Urania mine.  Cesar. 
By Heaven, you have with Honour conquered me,  
And here I lift a Sword against that Life,  
Which, witness for me, Gods, how fain I'd save,  
Nay were there any way to preserve both,  
But by resigning of the bright Urania;  
Were I as great as the young Macedonian,  
Whose Conquering Arms subdued the spacious World,  
I'd quit all Titles to those vanquished Crowns,  
And build my Happiness on Love and Friendship.  Ferd. 
It will not be, we cannot both possess her;  
And either to resign's Impossible.  
Therefore delay no longer; if thou dost,  
I here call back the name of Friend again;  
And will proceed as an inveterate Foe.  Cesa. 
But this Embrace, and then proceed to blood. Embrace.  
Now Fate, ordain me Love, or give me Death.  Ferd. 
Thou hast thy wish, Urania now is thine; Fight, and both wounded.  
And may those powers that give her to your Arms,  
Crown all your Days and Nights with endless Joys.  Ferd. falls. Cesa. 
That wish is kind, but oh it comes too late.  
For Death has been too busy with us both,  
And we both fall each other's Sacrifice.  Falls. Enter King, Tachmas, Sigismond, Oswell, and Soldiers: Osw. 
Behold,  
my Lord, the fatal deed is done;  
See where th' unhappy Rivals, Arm in Arm,  
Are mixing Blood, as they have joined their Souls.  Tach. 
How fares my Brother?  Cesa. 
Near my last safe Harbour,  
Let me the little time I have to live,  
Employ in begging Pardon of my King,  
And one kind farewell word to my Urania.  King. 
Haste, haste, and bring that most unhappy Innocence;  
Made wretched by a Father's harsh Decree.  Cesa. 
O Brother, Place me nearer to my Friend:  
No more my Enemy, yet still my Rival,  
My generous Rival, still thought be in Death.  Ferd. 
My dear Cesario, I must bid farewell:  
For cruel Death too hasty drags me hence.  
Urania hates me, and 'tis time to die.  
But whither I shall go, too cruel Fair,  
The shades of black Despair can only tell.  
Pushed from the World by thy Disdain and Scorn,  
I drop into the dark side of Eternity—  Die▪ Cesar. 
Farewell, thou Royal Convert of true Honour.  Enter Ardel. Ardel. 
Where, where's the King? oh, Sir, the poor Urania!  King. 
Ha! what of her?  Ardel. 
If Horror and Confusion  
Will lend me Breath to speak. Unhappy Princess!  
Alarmed by the false Oswell's treacherous Tongue,  
That your Commands had given Cesario death;  
Her generous Despair for her dear Lord,  
In her own Breast has plunged her fatal Dagger.  Cesar. 
For me! this was too much. Oh Love! thy Altar  
Was never loaden with so rich a Victim.  Ardel. 
And all the small remains of life that's left her, She comes to sigh out in his dying Arms.  Enter Urania bleeding, her hair hanging loose, led by two Women. Uran. 
Lead, lead me to this dismal scene of Horror.  
Place me but near to my poor dying Lord,  
And in his Arms, I'll quit the World with pleasure.  Cesar. 
Ye cruel Powers! this stabs my very Soul.  
Is there no Help, no Art, no succouring Angels  
To save her Life?  Uran. 
Were't in the Power of Fate,  
The precious Balm of thy king Tears would do't.  
But 'tis too late.  King. 
My dear unhappy Daughter,  
What has thy Rashness done!  Uran. 
Nothing but only paid  
The Debts of dying Love, tho' cruel Fate  
Divorced me from his Arms, and canceled all  
Our marriage Joys; yet in the Grave, in that  
Cold Bridal Bed, I shall not be denied  
To lie a sleeping Virgin by thy side.  King. 
Of all these Ruins only I am Author!  Cesar. 
Can then my kind and generous Princess  
Leave all her Greatness, all her blooming Youth,  
Let those dear Eyes, those sparkling Twins of Love,  
And all that mighty Mass of infinite Beauty,  
Lie undistinguished in the common Heap  
Of mouldering Dust, ghostly as Death and withered  
As naked scraggy Roots of unborn Flowers,  
And all for her unhappy, worthless Slave?  Uran. 
Could I do less to show I loved Cesario?  
The meanest of my Sex can live and love,  
Each common Spark inspires that feeble heat,  
To die for Love is only truly great:  
Nor is this all the Glory of my Death,  
You God's I bring my Innocence to Heaven.  
Free from Loves grosser and impurer Charms,  
I die a Virgin in my Husbands Arms.  Dies. Cesa. 
She's dead, she's dead, meet her you Gods, oh meet her:  
Throw open all the shining Gates of Heaven;  
And sally out, thick as the Beams of Day:  
To her Immortal Praise, new tune your Spheres,  
At her dear Feet your brightest Diadems lay,  
For this is Beauty's Coronation Day;  
But still in all her Heavenly Pomp she wants  
Her Loyal Slave, I come, dear Saint, I come.  
Oh let thy Soul one moment stay its slight,  
And take mine with thee to Eternal Light.  Dies▪ Enter Sigismond. Sig. 
Forgive, dread Sir, the vagrateful sounds I bring,  
The popular fury and your Army's Rage  
For their Dear General, and Prince's Blood,  
Is swelled so high, that where the Storm will break  
I tremble but to think; their Impious murmurs  
No less than at your Royal Sceptre fly.  King. 
My Sceptre, why 'tis what I'm weary of:  
It may be Tachmas, 'twill to thee descend:  
But when the Royal Helm is in thy hand,  
Oh let my Wrack thy warning Sea-mark stand,  
Shun but my Guilt, and with a prosperous Tide,  
Safe from my Rock the Royal Vessel Guide.  Exeunt omnes.   

EPILOGUE.  Spoken by M rs Knight. Written by Mr. Durfey. 

AS a young sprightly Widow of the Town,  
That had some year's the marriage Comforts known.  
Believing She had once the best of Men,  
Resolves to try her Fortune o'er again:  
So our Young scribbling Fool, that found before  
Your kind Indulgence, needs must write once more.  
Plagued with an Itch that does through Poets run,  
Who once being entered, never can have done.   

He says my Intercession cannot fail,  
And that a pleading Female▪ must prevail.  
I told him, I should never help his Play,  
As having ne'er obliged, I mean your way,  
And that in times of War you Women choose,  
Just like jack-boots, only for present use.  
Till your Convenience served to stand at door,  
Then laid by, by the Footman to be wore.  
Business of Love moves now no tender Passion,  
Your Heads are buzzed with business of the Nation;  
And when your Lady's sigh for a soft word,  
Tou roar, Boy, bring my Pistols, fetch my Sword.  
What Hopes then I could have he well might guests;  
Pray Heaven▪ these jarring days may quickly cease.  
Women and Misers always pray for peace.  
Plunder of Gold, the Miser's fear does move,  
Ours, that we shall not plundered be of Love.  
For to say truth, tho' Soldiers all are brave,  
They're the worst Lovers that our Sex can have.  
For now adays, their duty grows so hard,  
They 're always Resty when they mount our Guard.  
However I must try my Luck▪ If then  
There chance to be amongst you, Gentlemen,  
Any so kind to hear what I can say,  
Them I invoke in favour of this Play.  
It has some Wit, tho' mixed with many a Faued,  
Some little Fancy too; but as for Plot,  
There are so many New ones found elsewhere,  
He thought not worth his time to make one here;  
And therefore tho' you can't that Part applaud,  
Clap now, for there's a Pumpkin Plot abread.   
FINIS: