THE Treacherous Brothers, A TRAGEDY: Acted by Their MAJESTY'S SERVANTS, AT THE Theatre Royal,  
WRITTEN By GEORGE POWELL.  
Licenced and Entered according to Order.  
LONDON, Printed for James Blackwell, at Bernards-Inn-Gate, Holbourn; and Sold by Randal Tailor near Stationers-Hall. 1690.   

The Epistle Dedicatory  
To the Patentees, and Sharers of their Majesty's Theatre.  
Gentlemen,  
FOR Encouragement of this Address to you my worthy Friends, I am obliged to acknowledge, that a worthless Fruit, like this, stands no less indebted to the Courteous Gardner, that lent the warm Bed to rear it, then to the indulgent Palates that were so favourably pleased to relish it. Your Favour therefore that admitted it to the Stage, and the kind pardoning Audience that received it there, divide my equal Gratitude. I confess indeed, if I durst, (for there was no good will wanting,) I had the same itch with the greater Brothers of the Quill, of committing this published Bauble into some Noble, protecting Hands; had not a rising check of Grace, called a Blush, withheld me. I considered, possibly the highest Quality may forgive the loss of two short hours at a poor homely Entertainment, much easier than publicly admitting so mean a Trifle, Dedicated and laid at the Feet of Honour. The first of the two Favours is but a generous Condescension e'en passant. But the prefixing a great Name in lasting Print, before so undeserving a piece of scribble, is a Concession on their side too low, and and an Ambition on mine too aspireing. And therefore though I durst be bold with it on a Theatre, and make 'em all my Patrons there, my Confidence, the Talon of the ●●ge, I wear not beyond my Dressing Room, and durst presume upon Quality no farther. To you therefore who were before kind to it, I now send it for Protection; and choose you Gentlemen, my Patrons, and on my word I know not where I could have picked out better, for to pride myself in the choice of your Protection, and give my Patrons their true Panegyric. I must avow to the World, that if ever there were a true Maecenas of Poetry, (at least in Modern Story,) that name properly and rightly belongs to none, Gentlemen, so much as yourselves; and to prove this just Honour no Compliment, but your lawful due, (which indeed is more than the Laws of Dedication oblige me to,) if the Town would allow me able to read, (as that they'll hardly do.) I'd venture to quote one stanze of Gondibert for my Justification, giving this Account of Poetry.  
Oh! hireless Science, and of all, alone  
The Liberal! meanly the rest each State  
With Pension treats; but this depends on none;  
Whose worth they reverently forbear to rate.  
Now if the World has made so little Provision for the maintenance of the Muses, (as kind Davenants too true Oracle tells us,) I'm afraid upon due Examination, that little Bread they gather will be found almost all gleaned from a Theatre; one kind honest Actor, that frets and struts his hour upon the Stage (as the Immortal Shaksphear has it,) is possibly a greater Benefactor to the Muses, than the greatest Family of Grandees that run Pedigrees, and tract Originals up from the Conquest.  
The time has been when as old Ben ended his Grace with God bless me, and God bless Ralph, viz. the honest Drawer that drew him good Sack. So some Modern Authors with the same Equity, might full as Pathetically have furnished out one Article of their Prayers, (not forgetting the present Props of the Stage) with God bless Mohun, and God bless Hart, the good Actors that got 'em their good third Days, and consequently more substantial Patrons than the greatest gay Name, in the Frontispiece of the proudest Dedication. Poetry thrives so little now, that I much fear the famous Suckling himself was mistaken in his own Laureate; for there are those would be glad to find that kind rich Alderman, his Apollo gave the Bays to, that out of all his heaped Coffers, would either give or lend, to the fairest of the nine Mendicant Sisters.  
No Gentlemen, the Parnassus bears no good Crop, but upon that part of it lying and situate within your own Garden Walls; all the rest of it produces only that unprofitable growth, that 'tis scarce worth cultivating; all other Poetry (Dramatic only excepted,) turns to so little Account, that the toil's as hopeless as labouring for the Philosopher's Stone; the Undertaker is certain to get nothing by it, and if he's born to an Estate to bear his Expenses in the Projection, his only comfort is, he shall not be undone by it. If therefore a few straggling Cions of Poetry now and then start up in the World, the Encouragement is so much your own, that they wholly root with you. And if the greatest Dons of Wit, that carry the highest merit with 'em, are in Honour obliged to this Confession; how much greater ought my Acknowledgements to be, who owe my Access to the Stage, merely to your Act of Grace.  
In turning this dowdy Brat therefore into the World, a like bound to the Midwife, and the Godfathers: Your generous administering kindness in handing it into light, and the no less generous Audience for standing Vouchers for it, I take this Opportunity of publishing myself,  
Gentlemen, Your most obliged, and most obedient Humble Servant, George powel.   

THE Preface to the Reader.  
THE time was, upon the uniting of the two Theatres, that the reviveing of the old stock of Plays, so engrossed the study of the House, that the Poets lay dorment; and a new Play could hardly get admittance, amongst the more precious pieces of Antiquity, that then waited to walk the Stage: And since the World runs all upon Extremes, as you had such a Scarcity of new ones then; 'tis justice you should have as great a glut of them now: for this reason, this little Prig makes bold to thrust in with the Crowd.  
'Tis true, some of the Poets, the great Dramatic Professors, began to murmur, that such diminutive Interlopers as myself should be suffered, and could scarce forbear railing at the Injustice of the Company, in indulging such inconsiderable Invaders of their Province, the Stage.  
Now, I think, my Masters, 'tis a little hard, that those greater first-rate Wits, should come with top and Top Gallant, and thunder their Broad sides amongst you, and a poor little Fan Fan should be denied giving the Town a small Potgun.  
Besides, they have more Cause to be pleased at the exposing of so witless a trifle as this, if 'twere no more than for a Foil to their own more exalted Sense; for Faith some of 'em need one.  
After this Apology for their Favours; I am afraid, kind Reader, I shall find it a harder Task to Court yours; however, to make some Essay towards it; First I must tell you, that it if the Play wants Language, or any thing else, (or rather all things) to please you, nevertheless to take the modish way of Prefacing, and not undervalue myself: I assure you, (to the Credit of the Author be it spoken,) 'tis the best I ever writ; and By Gad, (as my Brother Bayes says,) I could not have took more Pains about it, had I been to have had sixscore Pounds for it at a Venture: Besides, whatever Confidence I may be taxed with, to show what respect I owe you, I resolved when I writ it to use a Conscience in persecuting you, and accordingly you'll find, I shall not tire my Reader with over much length; the Bookseller was in no danger of swelling the Play to Price two Shillings, and shall be thankful if he finds his Accounts in half the Summ.  
So much for my Conscience, now for my Civility: Look ye good Friends, considering that greater Bodies move slow, and the other weightier, massier Sense, now in Rehearsal, and Study, could not so easily be hammered into the Player's Heads, nor got up fast enough; I resolved the Town showed not be so disobliged, as to have a whole Hillary-Term with never a new Play; and so I understudyed, and jirckt up my little Whipster: This lighter toy, like a Dance between the Acts, in pure Complausance. I could instance several other Obligations of this kind, but not willing to insist too much upon Merit, for fear of running up into Supererrogation, I am content to end with subscribing myself  
Your Humbe Servant, Geo. powel.   

Gentlemen, MY Friend, against my will, puts this Compliment upon me, had he not been a particular Acquaintance, and a Brother-Actor, I should have took it as an Affront; yet though he writ it, I dare swear neither you nor I think it; and so take it among ye.  
Ad amicum in hujusce Tragoediae Authorem.  
Grande decus scenae, ludorum fama, Theatri  
Gloria, jam lauro tempora cinge tua.  
Tam benè Romano tinxisti verba lepore,  
Tam densis Phaleris pagina quaeque nitet;  
Ut spectatores, poterint fecisse Catones,  
Et rigidos Curios, Fabriciosque graves;  
Non te Cecropiae damnent Pandionis arces,  
Nec rodant numeros Critica turma tuos,  
Ergò age, non meritam dubites admittere famam;  
Nec pigeat curae praemia ferre tuae.  
Contemnas Rhoncos, nostrae & fastidia Romae,  
Quae plusquàm nasos Rhinocerotis habet.  
joannes Hodgson.   

PROLOGUE.  Writ by Mr. Mountfort, Spoken by Mrs. Knight. 
NEW Plays is still the Cry of the whole Town,  
Therefore to day, young powel gives you one;  
The fellow never writ before this time,  
And I am come to plead his Cause in Rhyme;  
You may be sure that writing is grown scarce,  
When he sets up for Prose, and I for Verse;  
Variety of Plays, like Women, all  
Desire, and both, when had, grow dull:  
Women and Plays are both uncertain too,  
We cannot swear they're sound, till tried by you;  
If a Play's bad, 'tis but three hours enduring,  
But Women often cost you three months curing;  
From an ill Play, each to the Tavern runs,  
Cursing the Poet, and his memory drowns,  
Drinking Damnation to him in six go downs.  
Our Scribbler don't at all you sharp Wits dread,  
He writes as Bullies fight, not for Renown, but Bread;  
I've heard there goes a curse with Poetry,  
Which many Authors know, called Poverty.  
But as for Players,  
They can no greater curse than being Players deserve,  
For write or not write, we are sure to to starve;  
You all are leaving us to serve the Nation,  
Our men and we shall have a long Vacation;  
One Plague by Fire this House hath undergone,  
Let not another be by Famine shown;  
Some for the Field in dismal Red prepare,  
Others at Sea, engage in men of War,  
Woe be to us the weaker Vessels here;  
What will become of every likely Lass,  
If Shipton's Prophecy should come to pass,  
One man will never serve seven Women sure,  
When Women can intrigue with half a score;  
What shall we do, our falling Sex to prop,  
The very day you march, we shut up shop.  
Bills must be writ to let each Tenement,  
We may find Lodgers, but they'll pay no Rent,  
Be kind then to us, ere you go away,  
Else we shall reap no Profit by this Play,  
For Pirate like, no Purchase, we've no pay.   


Dramatis Personae.  
KIng of Cyprus. Mr. powel.  
Meleander, Brother to the Queen. Mr. Allexander.  
Ithocles in Love with Marcelia. Mr. Williams.  


The Treacherous Brothers.  
Menaphon. Mr. Mountfort.  
Orgillus. Mr. Hodgson.    


WOMEN.  
Semanthe, Queen of Cyprus. Mrs. Bowtell.  
Marcelia, Niece to the King. Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Statilia, Sister to Ithocles, disguised in Boys clothes, by the name of Lattinius in Love with Meleander. Mrs. Butler.  
Armena, confident to Semanthe. Mrs Jourden.  
Pages, Guards and Attendants.     SCENE Cyprus.  

The First ACT.  
SCENE. I. A Garden.  Enter Menaphon, and Orgillus. Men. 
O Orgillus! thou talk'st in vain of comfort;  
To one so wretched and so Cursed as I,  
For my Complaints have forced the Rocks, the waters,  
The very winds have sighed, & Brooks have murmured  
Their kind Commiserations of my sorrow.  Org. 
Despair not Menaphon, you are not wretched,  
Unless your own Impatience makes you so.  
Why may not she in time be won to love,  
As well as other women? O my Brother!  
Thou hast been bred in war, and dost not know,  
The Subtlety, and Cunning of that Sex;  
D'ye think because She has denied you once—  Men. 
Once! one denial! yes a hundred slights,  
Repulses, Scorn, all her disdain can vent,  
Have been my daily, hourly persecution.  Org. 
A hundred! is that all? were their name Legion,  
A Legion may be conquered, fear it not,  
For time can tame the Lion and the Tiger,  
And with more ease a woman's wandering fancy.  Men. 
I but so long to hope, and be delayed  
Is worse than Death, to misery like mine  Org. 
Perhaps your Sufferings may not long endure,  
For womens' minds Inconstant are and fickle,  
Uncertain as the leaf blown with each wind,  
And Flexible, as is the bladed Grass,  
they'll fly, but every step wish they were taken.  
What they deny, they wish too were Snatched from 'em,  
They'll fight, but always wish to be overcome.  Men. 
I but Semanthe is not one of these:  Org. 
How know you that my Brother?  Men. 
O too well!  
For when this Tyrant Love first Seized my heart,  
When my tormented Soul could hold no longer  
I told her with a thousand sighs and tears,  
The Secret which to keep would have consumed me.  
With such a raging fire it flamed within.  
I told her all the cause of my distress;  
Yet she did not alone deny my suit,  
But with a look of fury, and disdain,  
She gave these words: Go wretch, below my Anger,  
May thy Ingratitude to him that Loved thee,  
That raised thee Monster as thou art, from nothing,  
Dwell in thy mind till thou repent'st thy folly;  
With that flew from me, leaving me alone.  
My Soul all burning like a blazing Etua;  
And since, If I but offer to approach her,  
She turns from every word and every look,  
That moves but for her pity, as the Pestilence  
Flew from my breath, and Bassalisks from my eyes.  
O Orgillus, what canst thou now propose  
What Remedy is left to save thy Brother?  Org. 
What Remedy? Time, Patience, Opportunity;  
The fiercest Torrents of a woman's Passion,  
Has both its Ebbs, and Flows, her tide of Hate  
(Strong as it is, and bears down all before it)  
May turn, and turn to Love; try her again:  
You know the King, now Wars with the Sicillians;  
And leaves the Queen, and Kingdom to your Care;  
Could any thing more favour your design?  
Brother be ruled by me: you know this Garden,  
Is every night her walk before she sleeps;  
Here meet with her, and once more own your passion,  
If she refuses you again forget her,  
And leave the Scornful Beauty to herself  Men. 
Forget Semanthe! 'tis impossible!  
Sooner the Glorious Sun shall turn its Course;  
Motion and Nature their great work give o'er,  
And the Eternal Axis Rowel no more.  Enter Semanthe. Org. 
Brother no more, the Queen is coming this way,  
Now if you ever hope to gain your wishes,  
Be bold, and your undaunted Passion speak;  
Mean while I will retire to yonder Grove,  
That Secrecy, and Silence may befriend you.  [Exit Org.] Men. 
Oh how I burn! when I behold that face.  
Turn, turn Semanthe, Cruel woman turn.  Sem. 
Bless me! what mournful Sound was that?  Men. 
Mournful indeed:  
And from the wretched'st man that sound was sent,  
That ever sighed for Beauty, great as yours.  Sem. 
This villain here! how my heart shakes to see him  [aside. 
What mean you Menaphon?—  [to him ●en. 
O I must speak;  
Though Death with Torments, Tyrants ne'er found out,  
Stood ready for me, I must say I love you.  Sem. 
As a Subject; and 'twill become you.  Men. 
O Gracious Princess, if that blessed form—  [kneels 
e'er harboured pity for a wretch distressed;  
Show some to me, to me whom violent love,  
Has tortured on the wrack of fruitless hope,  
And anchored down my Soul in Seas of woe.  Sem. 
I understand you not.  Men. 
Then farewell Circumstance—  [rises 
And since you are not pleased to understand me,  
(Tho' I have oft discoursed this Subject to you)  
But by a plain and easy way of speech,  
All Superstitious reverence laid by,  
I love you as a man, and as a man  
I would enjoy you; why d'ye start, and fly me?  
I am no monster, and you're but a woman,  
A woman made to yield, and by example,  
Told it is Lawful; favours of this nature,  
Are in our Age, no Miracles I'th' greatest,  
And therefore Madam—  [approaching her Sem. 
Villain, stand farther off; Ungrateful Monster.  
A Crime, which Creatures wanting reason fly from.  
Are all the Princely Bounties, Favours, Honours,  
(Which with some prejudice to his own wisdom)  
Thy Lord and Raiser has Conferred upon thee,  
In such a short time buried? has he made thee,  
(From one obscure, almost without name,)  
The envy of great Fortunes? have I graced thee,  
Beyond thy Rank, and entertained thee, as  
A Friend, and not a servant? and is this,  
This Insolent attempt upon my Honour,  
The fair return of both our ventured favours.  Men. 
Hear my excuse.  Sem. 
The fallen Angels may plead mercy,  
And with as much assurance as thou, hope it.  
This is not the first time,  
Your treacherous tongue has uttered this wild outrage.  
Think not I'll Longer bear your Insolence:  
What Smiles, what friendships has my Lord showered on thee?  
What a vast trust has he reposed in thee?  
By leaving both his Kingdom and myself,  
To thy protectian: Villain think on this;  
And let it quench the fever in thy blood.  Men. 
All this I've done; and many a weary night,  
Have called these thoughts to my most strict rememb'rance  
Brought my soul up to honour's bar and tried  
The Cause of love at Conscience high Tribunal:  
But oh in vain, for now too late I find  
There is no Medicine for a tortured mind,  
But freedom from the torture it sustains.  
Therefore Divinest Princess—  Sem. 
Cease your Insolence,  
Dar'st thou again with thy envenomed breath,  
After I had forbid thee, strive to tempt me,  
To Act a deed, which my soul shakes to think on?  
Know Traitor to reward this saucy boldness,  
I will not only paint thy barbarous Guilt,  
In its most hideous, black, Infernal form,  
And to the Injured King present the Gorgon,  
But rouse too my own Justice and Revenge,  
Th' unqualled Crime, with forfeit of thy Head.  [— offers to go. Men. 
Stay, stay, bright Angel, hear me but one word,  
O! tho' my fault deserves a Punishment.  [Men. kneels & she returns. 
Greater than his who stole Jove's fire from Heaven,  
Be you Compassionate, and show some mercy,  
I must confess my fault unpardonable.  
(But oh consider what the force of Love is.)  
But yet indeed to own a love to you  
Was too presumptuous, and I do repent it.  Sem. 
Can it be hoped,  
After a practice so abhorred as thine,  
Repentance e'er can find thee?  Men. 
By yourself,  
By your bright self divinest Queen I swear:  
And all those Powers that guard your Innocence,  
Henceforth I never will in word or deed  
Make Repetition of my Lawless Love.  
'Tis not the fear of Death makes me sue thus,  
But a loathed detestation of my madness  
That makes me wish to live to have your pardon,  
Which Granted, (in your presence whom I've wronged,)  
I'll let out that Rank blood which caused my folly.  Sem. 
No, rise, rise Menaphon, you have my pardon,  
And shall my favour if you keep your Oath.  
But if you do not, by the Powers that rule us,  
By all the fury of an injured Princess,  
I'll lay aside all thoughts of gentle pity.  
And when thy life shall answer thy black deed,  
Stand by with pleasure to behold thee bleed—  [Ex. Sem. Manet Men. Men. 
She's Gone, for ever gone, and I am lost;  
ne'er speak of Love on forfeit of my life.  
O why was I picked out from all Mankind,  
To fix my Love on so much scorn and beauty?  
And why since fate had destined me to love her,  
Should any other man in peace possess her?  
No, if he do, may fortune still pursue me,  
With all her utmost and severest malice,  
O 'twould be rare revenge for my scorned passion,  
To throw a burning brand in the King's breast,  
And make his Soul feel tortures great as mine.  
Work stronger in my heart thou dear revenge,  
For thou art now all Music to my sense.  Enter Orgillus. 
Whose there! My Brother Orgillus.  Org. 
The same; What have you spoke to her?  Men. 
Yes, I have sued,  
Kneeled, wept, and begged; but tears and vows and words,  
Move her no more than Summer winds a Rock.  
She threatened to discover to the King,  
All that I ever mentioned of my love;  
Which had she done, I know my Orgillus,  
My Life must needs have been the fatal forfeit,  
Which to prevent, I've bound myself by Oath,  
Never to mention my rash love again:  Org. 
And will you keep that Oath?  Men. 
By Heaven I will;  
But yet I will not lose her unrevenged.  
This King that detains all my happiness,  
Shall live in Torments great as I endure;  
Cursed Jealousy, that Poys'ner of Content,  
Shall put an end to all his quiet here,  
And O take heed Semanthe, for the Plot,  
The fatal Plot that's working in my Brain,  
Aims at no less a Price for my Scorned love  
Then her too haughty life who has refused me.  Org. 
Is all your violent love then come to this?  
Have you so soon forgot Semanthes beauty?  
Is that bright Angel you so late admired,  
Become so very low in your esteem,  
That you can talk of Aiming at her life?  Men. 
O Orgillus! didst thou but know as I do,  
The Pangs, the Tortures of a slighted love,  
Thou wouldst not wonder at this sudden Change.  
For when ill treated, it turns all to hate,  
And the then darling of our Soul's revenge.  Enter Nearchus. 
How now, the news with you?  Nea. 
Lord Ithocles is just arrived at Court,  
And brings the news of the King's victory,  Men. 
How victory! Oh bane to all my hopes!  
Had he but brought news of his Funeral,  [aside. 
This scornful beauty then perhaps might yield  Org. 
Lord Ithocles the Herald of his Triumphs?  
Is he the Harbinger? Curse of the name—  Nea. 
Yes my good Lord, he is.  [Exit Nea. Men. 
Nearchus leave us—  
Now Brother Orgillus,  
I do remember the King's wedding day,  
Was Celebrated with all Martial Pastimes, with Tilts  
and Tournaments at the Solemnity.  
Where Ithocles this Favourite of the Kings  
Got an Immortal fame to your dishonour.  Org. 
Dishonour, yes, and such dishonour too,  
Sprung from a cause so weak, that th'ashamed world,  
Repeats it with a blush; because this upstart,  
In that days Tournament, had the kind luck  
Only to Guide a Fortunate Lance against me,  
A little to my disadvantage. Chance,  
Mere Chance, the sport of Fortune; for Heaven knows,  
For years I've worn the Glory of the Lifts,  
And ne'er was foiled before; but cause Semanthe,  
Was pleased to give the Triumph of the day,  
The Golden Lot of that one single chance.  
To Ithocles, the fond Uxorious King,  
To please his Queen, must sacrifice his Soldier.  
The vain applause of this newmade Favourite,  
Seduced his Royal reason to that poor  
Ingratitude, that the exalted Ithocles,  
Was mounted in my honours, to Command,  
That very Army which I've led so often,  
To Victory for this forgetful King.  Men. 
Forgetful! yes.  
Remembrance is a stranger to ingratitude:  Org. 
Had he performed some mighty feat in War  
To outstrip me in renown, subdued some Kingdom,  
Which my weak sword had lost, than 't had been Justice,  
T'o're-leap my head, and seize my forfeit Laurels.  
But for a worthless prize, a sportive Trophy,  
For foiling me in a poor idle Tournament.  
To have my blasted Glories all torn from me,  
Degraded, lost, stripped naked, to adorn  
This Insolent rifler with my borrowed Plumes,  
Is canker to my Soul, and every vein,  
Run poison at the thought.  Men. 
O just Resentments,  
And sure my brother can't forget that time.  Org. 
Forget it Menaphon! Impossible.  
By Heaven it grates my very Soul to think on't.  
O I have worn him still within my mind,  
And wanted but an Opportunity,  
To pluck this growing Phaeton from his Glory.  Men. 
Now is the time, O Orgillus! my brain,  
Is full of Glorious thoughts for our revenge.  
Methinks I have already in my view,  
A Map of all the Mischiefs I intent,  
To rid my thoughts of this proud scornful beauty,  
And thee of Ithocles, the Man thou hatest.  
Wilt thou be faithful to me?  Org. 
Can you doubt it,  
When you conspire the fall of Ithocles?  
What is it I would fail t'assist you in?  
The Mighty Conqueror of the Universe,  
Ran not more Hazard's in his years of War,  
Then I would do to take Revenge on him.  Men. 
Come to my breast, My Brother and my friend.  
Was ever change like mine? Some moments since,  
My Soul was all a-burning fire of Love,  
But that hot Love is in an instant gone,  
And all my thoughts are now Revenge alone.  [Ex. Om. The Scene Changes to the Palace. Enter Ithocles meeting Marcelia. Mar. 
Welcome my Lord, my life, my Ithocles,  
Welcome, O welcome, from the hands of war,  Itho. 
O my Marcelia, do I once more view thee!  
Once more behold those dear, those charming eyes?  
By Heaven, my Love, the King with all his Conquests,  
Cannot have half the Joy, thy presence gives me.  Mar. 
My dearest Ithocles, my best loved Lord,  
O what a long and tedious Separation,  
Has this war made between us! but for all  
The fears I've felt, the many tears I've shed,  
To think upon the many dangers you were in,  
This happy minute makes a full amends.  Itho. 
Speak on, and bless my ears with the dear Sound  
Of that Celestial voice, Music more sweet,  
Then is the Murmur of a slow paced Brook,  
When 'tis with thousand little Pebbles crossed.  
Or the Winds Prattling 'mongst the wanton Leaves.  Mar. 
But oh my Lord, when the heat of fight,  
Your Sword imbrued in blood, and your fierce mind,  
Employed about the business of the War,  
Then your Marcelia was not thought upon.  Itho. 
My unkind dear why dost thou wrong me so?  
By Heaven the thoughts of thee inspired my Courage,  
And when I looked upon the bold Sicillians,  
And knew 'twas they detained me from thy Arms,  
I flew more fierce, than Thunder from a Cloud.  
And beat down all that did oppose my fury;  
Not think of thee, why thou wert all my thoughts,  
And every dream still showed me my Marcelia,  
And when the King would to divert his cares,  
With Feasts and Revels pass away the time,  
I have retired alone into my Tent,  
And blessed myself with thinking on Marcelia.  Mar. 
And will you ever Love thus?  Itho. 
When I do not,  
The Floods shall run back to their Springs again.  
The Wolf shall fly and fear the silly Lamb.  
But my best life, when shall we Crown our Joys?  
When will the dear the happy minute come,  
That Marriage must for ever make thee mine?  
What tho' the Cruel hand of War did part us?  
Now that is past, let us defer no longer,  
But make me blessed above the rest of Men.  Mar. 
My Lord, you know the King's consent is wanting,  
And tho' I do, and will for ever love you,  
I dare not Wed without his free Permission,  
Since he has both a King and Uncle's Power;  
But more of that my Lord when he returns.  
My duty calls me to attend the Queen,  
And I dare stay no longer. O my Lord!  
I had a thousand, thousand things to tell you,  
When next we meet, (for we shall meet again,)  
I will Command some happy longer minute,  
And then complete kind loves unfinished murmurs.  Itho. 
My better self, after so long an absence,  
You may with safety grant one happiness;  
A kiss from those fair Lips would be no sin,  
Good Night my Love, thou dearest, best of women,  
The thoughts of thy bright Charms would turn me mad,  
But that I live in hopes I shall posses'em,  
Thy beauteous Image fleets before my Eyes,  
And shows the wondrous Heaven I so much prize.  [Exeunt. 
The End of the First Act.   

The Second ACT.  
SCENE. I.  Enter Menaphon and Orgillus. Men. 
HE Comes, my Brother Cyprus Monarch comes,  
Wrapped up with Joy for his success i'th' War,  
To meet a Fate, far worse than those Sicillians,  
Whom his Victorious Arm has Lodged in Graves.  
For we have not alone Conspired his fall,  
But what will add more pleasure to revenge,  
His Soul for that short time he lives on Earth,  
Shall feel worse Torments than the damned endure,  
O what a Scene have we in one night laid,  
To ruin, both a King, a Queen, and Favourite.  Org. 
Brother you yet forget the greatest Point,  
The Plot we've laid, we can't perform alone.  
But by the help of some that's near the Queen,  
We may with ease Accomplish our design,  Armena, 
Confident to fair Semanthe,  
I once did make some show of kindness to,  
And till the Fruit I tasted, loved the Tree;  
And tho' my passion does apace decline,  
To further our design, I'll yet love on,  
At least pretend I do, she, she shall aid us;  
I know for the past pleasures we have had,  
And for those many more she hopes t'enjoy,  
She'll be assisting to what e'er I ask  Men. 
But Orgillus, will she be faithful to us▪  Org. 
That is indeed against her Sex's nature,  
But if she's secret till we've worked our ends,  
A bowl of Poison stops her tongue with ease.  Men. 
O thou art most Ingenious at contrivance,  
By Heaven I am all Ecstasy to think,  
With what a brave Revenge I pay her scorn.  
But Orgillus our Vengeance stops not there,  
The Scene of blood, will yet far higher grow,  
For when the Hot, the fiery Meleander,  
(The Brother to this scornful piece of Beauty)  
Shall from the King hear of his Sister's shame;  
I know his boiling blood will rise so high,  
That his wild rage will be his own undoing.  
Then, than my Brother, when the Royal Line,  
Is by the King's fierce Jealousy destroyed,  
Who then remains to take the Crown but me,  
Ambition and Revenge have fired my Soul,  
And I'm Impatient till the work is done.  Org. 
Brother be Temperate, for rashness often,  
Spoils those designs that have with care been laid;  
And roots up their Foundations— See Armena:  
Now smooth-faced flattery assist my Cause  
And dear dissimulation stand my Friend,  
Retire my Menaphon, it is not fit,  
You should be seen till I have wrought her to us.  Men. 
I go, and may success attend thy purpose—  [Ex. Men. Enter Armena. Org. 
Madam you're grown a perfect stranger to me,  
There was a time when it was otherwise.  Arm. 
There was indeed, but now that time is past:  
You did obtain my easy Love too soon,  
And scorn the prize which was so quickly won,  
Now other beauties do possess that heart,  
Which once I thought my own, but O fond fool,  
Why did my vanity extend so far,  
To think that I had Charms enough to keep  
One of that Sex which ne'er were constant yet?  Org. 
Armena, I confess I've been unkind  
But oh it was not without wondrous reason:  Arm. 
Did I e'er give you cause, No Orgillus,  
The tender Mother of her sucking Infant,  
Was never half foe fond, as I of thee.  
I must confess indeed I was below ye,  
But sure my Love might make amends for that.  
What cause then couldst thou find so soon to slight me?  Org. 
O my best life, think not 'twas want of love,  
No my Armenia I so truly love thee,  
That to thee I'll unclasp my burdened Soul,  
Empty the store-house of my thoughts and heart,  
Make myself poor of Secrets, will not leave,  
One thought untold that dwells within my breast.  Arm. 
What e'er it be my Lord that does disturb you,  
O Let me know't, that I may bear a part.  Org. 
Thou shalt my Love, but oh take heed Armena!  
Be very Cautious, and keep close the secret.  
For 'tis so great, my life relies upon't.  Arm. 
Can Orgillus then doubt me, Oh unkind,  
That very word Confirms you do not love.  Org. 
Pardon me dearest, I'll distrust no more.  
Know then, the King, the Queen, and Ithocles,  
Did all conspire my Ruin, and disgrace,  
I once was favoured, and beloved at Court,  
I was the darling of the King and People;  
But when the King was wedded to Semanthe,  
All that great love which he before had shown me,  
He took away at once from Orgillus,  
And straight bestowed it on Semanthe's Brother:  
This I forgave, and thought it was my duty,  
To resign place toth' Brother of my Queen,  
But Oh a worse disgrace he threw upon me,  
For Ithocles, this upstart Favourite,  
Crept into the opinion of the Queen,  
And by her mediation to the King,  
Got from me all the Offices I bore, and gave 'em all to him.  
This, this Armenia, hangs upon my Soul,  
More heavy far than lies the Load on Atlas.  
But didst thou Love, didst thou but truly Love,  
I yet might find a way to crown my peace.  Arm. 
O name it Orgillus! and if I fail,  
T'assist in aught that may produce thy quiet,  
May I ne'er taste the Joys that are on Earth,  
Nor the Immortal pleasures dwell in Heaven.  Org. 
Thou only Miracle of woman kind  
How could I merit so much wondrous Goodness?  
Know then Armena to revenge my wrongs,  
I have designed the death o'th' King and Queen.  
But cannot do't without thy kind assistance.  Arm. 
How Orgillus!  Org. 
What d'ye start Armena?  
Nay then I have delivered up my life  
To one that has determined to betray me.  Arm. 
Indeed my Lord this is the only thing,  
I should i'th' least have scrupled to have done.  
But yet to show how well, how true I love,  
I'll strive in this to serve my Orgillus.  Org. 
O let me take thee Closer to my heart,  
My dearest Saint, my life, my Soul, my heaven.  Arm. 
I must Confess I could not easily  
Embark in a design of so much horror;  
But O my Lord you have received indignities,  
Disgrace so infamous, and wrongs so Loud,  
Enough to shake a Saint, wrongs of that weight  
That I have wondered you could bear and Love:  
Nay, but to think what crying Injuries.  
What vile injustice the ingratitude,  
Of a false Court has heaped on my dear Lord,  
Has sometimes Roused that Gall, that Just resentment,  
Even in poor, poor Armena, that I've wished,  
A Masculine Nerve in this female Arm,  
Able to wield a Sword in your hard cause,  
And be my dearest injured Love's Avenger.  Org. 
My Beauteous Champion, my Lovely Heroine,  
In what a mighty Sum shall I be bound:  Arm. 
I must be gone, the Queen will straight expect me,  
But oh my Orgillus with thee I leave  
My Heart, which shall be ever faithful to thee:  
And tho' the world my fault will disapprove,  
I'd venture more to serve the man I love.  [Exit Arm. Manet Orgillus. Org. 
Poor Loving fool, with how much ease thou'rt caught,  
That man that would Successful be in mischief,  
Must by one means, or other, hook in woman;  
Mischief's they're study, mischief is their Trade,  
And sure 'twas for that only they were made.  
For when a woman once in mischief Joyns,  
She's sure to gain whatever she designs.  Enter Menaphon. 
Now Brother Triumph, things exceed our wishes;  
I've wrought Armenia up to such a height,  
Sh'as vowed to second us in our Revenge.  Men. 
'Tis well, but let us haste to meet the King.  
Hark  Trumpets Drums, and Shouts afar off. 
Those Shouts inform us he is near the City;  
And if our Plot goes right, near to his Grave.  
Again! Good Heaven!  [Shouts nearer 
With how much Joy they welcome him to Death.  
Come Orgillus, let us go meet this man  
Who Swelled with Conquest comes with Triumph on.  
Trumpets and Drums on one side.  
On the Other, Violins, Flutes, and other Music.  Enter on one side, the King, Meleander, Lattimus, Captains, & Guards. On the other. The Queen, Ithocles, Marcelia, Menaphon, Orgillus and Armena attend. The King and Semanthe meet and Embrace. King. 
O my Semanthe take me to thy breast,  
And let me Grow for ever in thy Arms.  
By Heaven my Joys are much too great to bear,  
Should I gaze longer on this Charming fair,  
Such killing brightness from her eyes she'd cast,  
I should not have the power to stand before 'em.  Sem. 
My Lord, my life, O how shall I express  
My wondrous Bliss, to see you safe returned▪  
I swear I think the Joys of Heaven too poor  
To put in balance with this one blessed hour.  King. 
My dear, dear happiness, my all I prize;  
I swear my Lords; and O bear witness for me,  
You mighty Powers that have in war preserved me  
I Joy not half so much in all my Conquests,  
As I do now in this dear happy minute,  
Clasping Semanthe in my Longing Arms.  [Whilst the King goes and Salutes Marcelia [Meleander comes towards the Queen Sem. 
O welcome Brother, welcome Meleander,  
From all the dreadful hazards of the war,  
Welcome above the world next my Loved Lord.  [presents Lattimus. Mele. 
I thank you Royal Sister, and I beg  
Your favour for this youth, my life's preserver.  [Lattinius Kneels, and kisses the Queen's hand. Itho. 
The more I look upon that Lovely youth,  
The more I see of poor Statilia in him,  
My Sister who before this war fled from me,  [aside 
Whither I know not, nor for what strange Cause:  Men. 
Health and Success attend your Majesty,  [Kneeling.] 
May all the Glories that your Arms have won,  
Be doubled on you, and your Conquering Sword  
Be ever thus Successful 'gainst your foes.  King. 
Rise Menaphon, my true, my faithful friend,  
O what return is in my power sufficient,  
To recompense thee for thy wondrous care,  
Of my Semanthe and my Kingdom's safety.  
I swear could I bestow a Crown upon thee,  
'Twould be too little to requite thy merits.  Men. 
What I have done, was nothing but my duty,  
And would do more, if more were in my power,  
To serve my Royal Lord.  King. 
I know thou wouldst. I know thy honesty,  
To be as great as ever dwelled in man.  
And know besides, that should I spend my Life  
In thanks to Heaven for making me so blessed,  
With Loyal Subjects, faithful valiant Warriors,  
But above all with my Semanthes Love,  
'Twould be too little. O my brightest Star!  
Let me again enfold the next my heart.  
Thus breathe my Soul into thy throbbing bosom,  
I could grow mad with my excese of bliss,  
And end my Life this moment in thy arms.  Men. 
How soon this mighty Scene of love will vanish,  
When once he finds my Poison working in him.  [aside Itho. 
My Royal Lord, since you're so blessed by fate▪  
And Heaven has given you all you can desire,  
Let me implore who want your Royal favour,  
Your kind Consent to make your vassal happy.  King. 
O Ithocles! if aught is in my power  
To recompense thy Loyalty and Courage,  
Be quick and let me know how I may serve thee.  Itho. 
Great Sir, upon my knees I beg forgiveness.  
That I presume to ask so great a gift.  
But love Reigns strongly in my tortured breast,  
And tho' I'm loved, by her my Soul most Covets.  
'Tis your Consent alone can make me happy.  
Since 'tis Marcelia Sir for whom I sue.  meal 
Ha! for Marcelia Lord thou suest in vain.  
For tho' I yet ne'er owned my Love to her,  
I've Long been her Adorer,  
And have the Kings Consent to make her mine.  Latt. 
Then I am Lost—  [Aside King. 
'Tis true brave Ithocles.  
Before I knew thy Love, I'd given my promise.  
And never can consent she shall be thine,  
Whilst one so powerful stands in Competition.  Mar. 
O Sir, upon my knees let me entreat you.  
Force not my Inclinations, 'tis most true,  
That I have given my heart to Ithocles,  
And never can consent to love another.  
Meleander is too noble sure to seek.  
The love of one that must deny his passion.  Mele. 
Why Cruel fair? am I so far unworthy?  
That you should scorn me thus to please a Rival,  
He cannot more then I adore Marcelia,  
Nor Venture more to show how much he loves.  
I have the King's Consent—  Itho. 
But I Marcelia's.  Mar. 
And when I ere consent to love another,  
Heaven shut your bright gates against me, banish me,  
From the blessed Realms of your Immortal day.  
May I—  King. 
No more thou Cheap Ignoble fool,  
That durst to own a Love without my knowledge;  
To you my Lord I ever showed such kindness—  [to Ithocles 
As might have kept you from so base an Act,  
To Court thus privately a Niece of mine,  
Forget her, and I'll own thee still my Friend.  
Persist in it, and thy Life answers for it.  Itho. 
Forget her! No, if I must lose Marcelia,  
Death is the kindest thing you can bestow,  
And I would now most willingly embrace it,  
Since I must never hope t'obtain my Love.  
For you, my Lord, it shows most base in you  [too Mele. 
To offer to invade Another's right.  
Our hearts, our Souls, are joined by Solemn Contract,  
And tho' the King's Consent on my side's wanting,  
Her Constant heart is never to be Changed.  
Therefore I know your Courtship will be vain.  Latt. 
Pray Heaven it be—  [Aside King. 
Well Sir, leave that to time.  
But now to show how much thy vanity;  
And thy unlooked for suit, has moved thy King,  
As you respect my favour I command you,  
Never make mention of thy impious love,  [to Ithocles 
For if thou dost, by the great victory  
My arms have gained over the bold Suillians,  
Thou shalt no more behold the face of day,  
But in a Dungeon dark as your loves were,  
I'll make thee end the remnant of thy days.  Sem. 
My Gracious Lord, let me entreat this mercy,  
To Calm your rage 'gainst the unhappy Ithocles,  
Consider love's the Occasion of his Crime,  
Whose power alas your Royal self have felt,  
And know 'tis irresistible.  King. 
O pardon me, thou Mirror of thy Sex,  
That I bestow one minute from thy arms:  
But shall Semanthes Brother plead in vain,  
He who feels flames as great as Ithocles,  
It must not be; by Heaven my love it must not:  
Conduct Marcelia straight to her Apartment,  [to Armena. 
And let none visit her without my Order.  [Exit Marcelia weeping with Armena. 
Come my Semanthe, after all the Hazards  
That do attend on war, the happiness  
Of thy blessed presence, makes me feel new life:  
On to the Temple, where when we have given,  
Our thanks to the great Powers that have preserved us.  
Impatiently I'll wait the approach of night.  
Then wrapped in loves Immortal Paradise,  
I'll revel in unutterable Bliss:  [Exit Omnes. Praetor Itholes. Itho. 
Strike home dear Thunder, end my lingering pains:  
Did ever Lover feel my Pangs and live?  
Never was man surrounded with my Glory.  
Th' entire possessor of the Constant love,  
Of one so Beauteous, so divinely fair,  
And yet am doomed to famish in despair,  
So the poor naked Slave digs in the mine,  
And sees the Glittering o'er around him shine,  
But does with hopeless eyes that wealth behold,  
Wretched and starved, amidst a mine of Gold.  [Exit. 
The End of the Second Act.   

The Third ACT.  

SCENE I.  Meleander discovered in's Nightgown. Mele. 
NIght Clad in black, mourns for the loss of day,  
And hides the Silver spangles of the Sky,  
That not a spark is left to light the world,  
Whilst quiet sleep the Nourisher of life,  
Takes full possession on mortality.  
All Creatures take their rest in soft repose,  
No Spirit moves upon the breast of Earth,  
But howling Dogs, night-Crows, and Screeching Owls,  
Despairing Lovers, and Pale Meager Ghosts.  Enter Lattinius. Lattinius. 
here! why dost thou break thy rest?  
This is an hour, wretches should only wake.  
Why weeps my pretty Boy?  Latt. 
To see your Sorrow,  
And think it is not in my Power to help you:  
For by those Sacred Guardians over us,  
I cannot think that dangerous Enterprise,  
I would refuse to purchase your content.  Mele. 
Alas! my sufferings are passed thy redress,  
But yet I thank thee for thy care and Love,  
I dote on one, colder than Alpine Snow.  
One that would rather die to please my Rival,  
Then live the Empress of the World with me.  
Is there a cure for this? O there is none;  
For were there any pitying, God above  
Touched with Commiseration of my grief,  
And should descend to plead in my behalf,  
By Heaven I think she would with scorn receive him,  
Stand the Temptation of a Golden shower,  
And Jove himself in all his shapes unaltered.  Latt. 
Might I without offence declare my thoughts,  
I'd have you cast your eyes on other beauties,  
Search nature's Store, and find some noble'r choice,  
T'adorn your Nuptial bed.  Mel. 
O if I could,  
Embrace thy Counsel I were truly happy;  
But know I love, and die for that dear Charmer,  
And Cruel as she is, must still persist.  
Another Choice! No 'tis impossible:  
The rest of that fair Compared with her,  
Would seem like drossy metals to pure Gold.  Latt. 
O dismal sound! in all this mighty Transport▪  
I find but little hopes for poor Statillia.  [Aside. 
But yet my Lord—  Mel. 
O talk no more Lattinius,  
Unless thy words are praises of her beauty.  
Describe each grace of the Divine Marcelia,  
Let every thing thou utter'st sound her name,  
And I will sit and listen to thy Music,  
As sweet as the Melodious Quires of Heaven,  
Or sure Salvation to departing Souls.  Latt. 
Why should it be so sweet to hear the name,  
Of one whose Pride is to be your Tormentor,  
Who is the Cause of all your sighs, Marcelia?  
Who is't that makes you curse your fate? Marcelia;  
Who is it that unmans you but Marcelia?  
Who is't that pays your constant love with scorn?  
Who is't that dotes on Ithocles, your Rival?  
Marcelia still, whose very name is Music,  
Sweeter than the Melodious quires of Heaven,  
Marcelia is the cause—  Mel. 
No more I charge you.  
For your Officious love grows troublesome,  
Away, begone, and leave me to my thoughts.  
Still art thou here?  Latt. 
Alas! I cannot leave you:  
Upon my knees I beg if you e'er loved,  
Forgive my forward Zeal, and let me serve you.  
I'll to this Cruel woman, tell her all:  
Describe each Pang that tears your Love-sick heart,  
Count o'er the hours you waste in sad Complaints;  
If she was nursed by any thing but Tigers,  
I doubt not but to move Compassion in her.  
Try me my Lord—  Mel. 
Alas! 'twill be in vain.  
She's Colder than the North, Impenetrable  
As Rocks of Adamant, and scarce will hear  
A message sent from me.  Latt. 
Fear not my Lord.  Mel 
O I have wondrous reason.  
But since I find thou wouldst fain do me service,  
For once I will Employ thee; tell her then,  
If Possible, each sigh thou'st heard me utter;  
How much above the world I prize her Love;  
Tell her what dangers I would undertake,  
To Gain one smile from her: wilt thou do this?  Latt. 
Indeed my Lord I will.  Mel. 
My better self,  
But see the morningstar breaks from the East,  
To tell the world her great Eye is awaked,  
To take his Journey to the western Vales.  
And now the Court begins to rise with him,  
Go to her then my faithful dear Lattinius,  
Lay if thou canst my Dying Groans before her,  
And Bathe her feet with tears to move her Soul.  Latt 
I will do all that lies within my Power.  Mel. 
Farewell my Pretty Boy, and some kind Angel,  
Instruct thee with the means to gain her Pity,  [Exit Mele. Latt. 
O misery! was ever fate like mine!  
To Languish for the love of that dear man,  
Whose heart alas is Conquered by another?  
The rest—  
Of my more prosperous Sex compared with me,  
Are Goddesses, in glittering Chariots ride  
And make their Lovers vassals to their Pride,  
But I, poor I, seek mine, and am denied.  [Exit.  

SCENE II.  Enter Menaphon and Orgillus. Men. 
Now Brother does the fatal time draw on,  
That must or give me Death, or full revenge,  
For all the Scorn, and slights were thrown on me,  
By that Proud, haughty, and disdainful Beauty.  
This hour shall put an end to all her quiet,  
For I will work the King to that degree  
Of Rage, and Jealousy, that if his Soul  
Can harbour any sense of those great wrongs,  
As he most Certain shall believe is done him,  
I know Immediate Death must be her Lot,  
And sure destruction to the man you hate.  Org. 
O that the wished for deed were once effected,  
That I might see this Rival to my Glory,  
Fixed in a Dungeon, or his hated Soul,  
Sent to the place, where I could wish it Hell.  Men. 
Doubt not my Brother, but that time's at hand,  
Look on the liquour this small Glass Contains,  
Infuse three drops of it, i'th' wine he drinks,  
So many hours his Senses will be shut,  
And Lay him in the Leaden hand of sleep,  
Which when performed, we may with as much ease,  
Work our designs on him, as 'tis to think it.  Org. 
By Heaven thy Plot deserves Eternal Fame:  
But Brother near as we can guests the hour,  
Let it be when the Queen prepares for Supper.  
Armena at that time by Instructions,  
Shall give Semanthe the same sleeping Draught.  Men. 
Haste then my Brother, tell her our design,  
Whilst I infect the King with Jealousy,  
He comes this way; retire, leave me alone,  
And doubt not but we shall have wished success:  Org. 
Farewell.  
And in each path may Fortune be your Guide.  [Ex. Org. Enter King, Guards, and Attendants. King. 
How now my Lord? possessed with serious thoughts:  Men. 
I'm thinking Sir, what 'tis to wrong a King,  
And in what pain that honest man must live,  
That sees him wronged, and dares not tell him on't.  King. 
I think that man who knows his Prince abused,  
And yet conceals it from him most disloyal,  
For sure it is a Crime unpardonable,  
To think a wrong 'gainst an Anointed head.  Men. 
But Sir, when those that do it are in Power,  
And a poor shrub is all that can accuse 'em,  
He'd hardly gain belief of what h'as seen,  
And death must pay the honest fool his wages.  King. 
Not if he can show Proof of what he says.  Men. 
My Liege, I beg a moment's Privacy.  
For I've a wondrous secret to impart;  King. 
Retire a while.  [Ex. Attendants. 
Now Menaphon, your business:  Men. 
O Sir, I've such a Story as will scorch,  
Your boiling veins into so hot a Fever,  
Will make your heartstrings burst, and set a float  
The burning Lake within 'em.  King. 
Ha! be quick:  Men. 
If it were possible, I'd keep it in.  
But it has long struggled in my breast for vent.  
My Lord I know too sure that you are wronged.  King. 
Ha!  Men. 
Wronged in the highest Point, wronged in your honour.  
Upon my knees I kiss this Prost'rate Earth,  
And humbly beg that which my tongue shall speak—  
Since it proceeds from nought but Love and duty,  
May either be forgiven or forgot.  King. 
You have it, rise, discharge an open breast.  Men. 
O my dread Liege, my words will raise a Storm,  
Able to stagger all your Royal reason:  
I wish my Loyal heart could cover sin,  
But love and my Allegiance bid me speak,  King. 
Speak then, and do not wrack me with delay:  Men. 
Women, why were you made for man's affliction?  
The first that ever made us taste of grief,  
And last of whom in Torments we complain▪  
The Devils, shaped like Angels, through whose deeds,  
Our forked shames are made most visible.  
No Soul of sense, would wrong bright Majesty:  
Nor stain their blood, with such Impurity.  King. 
Nay good my Lord, leave off this Mistick speech,  
And give me knowledge from a plainer phrase.  Men. 
Then Plainly thus my Lord, your bed's abused:  
O foolish Zeal, that makes me desperate.  
Your Queen has sinned, and done a double wrong  
To you, herself, and sacred Chastity.  
O she has lost her honour, she that looks,  
All health without, within is all Contagion.  King. 
How Menaphon! Beware, think where thou'rt going,  
Endeavour not to blast Semanthes virtue,  
Hadst thou thy sense about thee 'twere impossible  
Thy tongue could utter such blasphemous Sounds;  
Therefore I pardon thee for what thou'st said,  
And think it only the effects of madness:  
But if like this you add one Syllable more,  
Thou dost Pronounce upon thyself a sentence,  
That Earthquake-like will swallow thee.  Men. 
Let it open.  
Better that I, and thousands more should perish,  
Then live to see our Royal Lords Dishonour.  King. 
Ha!—  [Offers to draw: Men. 
Do, I lay my bosom bare before you;  
Kill me, because I love you and speak truth:  
Is this the merit of a Roman faith?  
Have I for this than played the watchful Argos,  
To sound the very depth of her designs?  
I had been mad indeed, a doting fool,  
' T'have told you this without I'd had some proof.  
But know my Liege, did not your Rage devour you,  
And passion too much oversway your reason?  
I could relate a tale so full of horror,  
'Twould startle all mankind to here it told:  
But since I find you'd rather hug your shame,  
Then bravely to Revenge the wrongs you suffer,  
Send to the Grave, this forward Zealous fool,  
That durst attempt to tell his King the truth.  King. 
Had I Just cause, I would pursue such injuries,  
Through fire, air, water, earth, nay, were they all  
Shuffled again to Chaos, but there's none,  
And therefore thou that hast Blasphemed her virtue,  
Shalt have thy Just reward—  [Draws Men. 
Yet hold my Lord;  
Since I am Entered in this desperate cause,  
And you think Death to be my due reward,  
Let me before the fatal Blow is given.  
Beg one short minute not to Plead for life,  
But let you know I die for Loyalty:  King. 
Which if thou dost,  Men. 
Which if I do not,  
May the Immortal Powers at the last day,  
Shut all the Shining Gates of Heaven against me,  
And hurl me headlong to the burning Lake.  King. 
I know thou'rt valiant, and with valiant minds,  
Slander is worse than theft or Sacrilege.  
A step beyond the utmost Plagues of Hell,  
And therefore I will hear what thou canst say  [Puts up his sword. 
If thou canst show me any Certain Proof.  
(Which by the Gods it is a Sin to think)  
That my Semanthe's false, instead of threats,  
Thou shalt in every thing find favour from me:  
But if thou dost not, by my Father's Soul,  
Imagine what makes man most miserable,  
And that shall fall upon thee.  Men. 
Willingly.  
I do Embrace this kind Proposal, Sir.  
Know then, the man (or rather Style him Monster,)  
That does thus Impiously defile your Bed,  
Is Ithocles.  King. 
Well Menaphon, go on:  
I'll patiently hear every word you utter,  
But shall expect strong proofs ere I believe.  Men. 
Which if I do not give, my life's the forfeit.  King. 
I've done.  Men. 
My Lord, you know early this morning,  
You went yourself to take a view o'th' Army.  
No body left behind, but I, and Ithocles.  
For having long before had some suspicion,  
I did indeed neglect my duty too,  
To try if I could gain a farther Proof  
Of what before I but suspected only;  
And having watched the Queen in the Garden,  
I placed myself unseen behind the Bower,  
When straight I spied Lord Ithocles approach,  
With all the haste, belonging to a Lover,  
He flew to the Embraces of the Queen,  
And sighed, and gazed, and kissed, and Cursed his fate,  
That he could not Possess that Heaven alone:  
She threw her snowy Arms about his Neck,  
Embraced him Close, O Ithocles (says she)  
Thou darling of my Soul be ever thus;  
Thus wise, thus secret in the scene of love,  
And keep it safe from the deluded King.  King. 
What should I think? he durst not sure say this,  
Were he not very Certain of the truth;  
Besides the man was ever Counted honest,  [Aside. 
He's young and handsome, valiant, and discreet,  
And I myself have proved his Loyalty,  
These are not Marks belonging to a Villain.  
O thou hast waked me, and thy piercing words  [to him. 
Have split my sense in sunder, and could I,  
Live to behold at once the general end,  
And see the World wrapped in its funeral Flame,  
When the Bright Sun shall lend its Beams to burn,  
What he before brought forth, and water serve,  
Not to Extinguish but to Nurse the Fire,  
It would not give me half the Torturing Pangs,  
As does the thoughts thou'st raised within my breast.  
But yet I must expect an Ocular Proof,  
For tho' thy words have raised a storm within me,  
I must have stronger reasons that she's false.  Men. 
Why then to show you Sir how much I love you,  
And with what Zeal I've strove to serve my King,  
I'll show these two seeming Saints, (but Devils,)  
Even in the Act of sin that needs must damn 'em.  King. 
Ha! In the Act! it is impossible:  Men. 
It is indeed to Nick the very time;  
But I will show you something Comes so near,  
You may with ease imagine what's been done:  
But know my Liege when these dark deeds are done,  
'Tis when they're very certain of your absence,  
Therefore might I be worthy to advise,  
Early i'th' morning make some slight pretence,  
That may detain you till the following day,  
Then if I do not give you certain Proof,  
Of the Queen's falsehood, cut me into Atoms.  King. 
Is't possible! O this Land-Crocodile▪  
Made of Egyptian slime! Accursed woman,  
Would when I first beheld her tempting face,  
My eyes had met with lightning, and instead  
Of hearing her Enchanting tongue, the shrieks,  
Of Mandrakes had made music to my Slumbers.  Men. 
My Lord be Patient, see before you doubt:  King. 
I will, nay thou shalt see me wondrous Patient,  
For yet I cannot think Semanthe false,  
Tho' words like thine, urged with such Confidence,  
To any man but me, would turn him mad.  
Farewell my Lord, and see you keep your promise,  
For if thou dost not, Vengeance, Hell, and Horror,  
Shall certainly attend thy Cankered Soul.  [Ex. King. Manet Men. Men. 
Rowl on the Chariot Wheels of my dark Plot,  
And bear my ends to their desired Marks,  
He's gone with black suspicion in his heart,  
And made his Soul a slave to Jealousy:  
Let him go on, on to the Gulf of Ruin,  
As sure he shall when I have worked my Ends:  
Now to my Brother, O thou Credulous King,  
The Tortured Ghosts that dwell i'th' dark Abyss,  
Have pleasant Hours to what thou shalt enjoy.  
For when the black designs that I have laid,  
Are brought to pass, then, then comes all thy pain,  
And thou shalt never taste of Peace again.  [Exit.  

SCENE IU.  The Scene drawn discovers Marcelia sitting Melancholy. 

A Song within.  

I.  
Were I with my Orinda blessed,  
Of the dear Maid Possessed.  
It would in Angel's Envy breed,  
To see our joys should theirs exceed,  
One minute would more bliss bestow,  
Then they in Thousand Ages know.   

II.  
All over Rapture when shall I,  
With you in Transport lie,  
On thy soft bosom to be placed?  
To be by those dear Arms Embraced.  
Is better far than Diadems:  
With all the Eastern useless gems.    Marcelia Rises. Mar. 
No more of this, it suits not with my sorrow,  
For one so wretched, and so lost as I—  
The Groans of Tortured Ghosts were fitter Music:  
O Ithocles! partner of my Afflictions,  
With much more Joy, and vast contentedness,  
Would I embrace my death within thy Arms,  
Then live possessed o'th' World thus severed from thee:  
O King, King, O my too Cruel Uncle;  
With what a weight of sorrow do you load me,  
Be kind and give me ease by present Death.  Enter a Lady. Lady. 
One from Prince Meleander Craves Admittance.  Mar. 
Although I hate the name of him he comes from,  
Yet that I may have Opportunity  
To vent my passion by my scorn, admit him.  [Ex. Lady. Re-enter with Lattinius and Exit. Latt. 
Divinest Excellence, whose Conquering eyes,  
Have made a Captive of the best of Men,  
Do not with scorn repay his faithful love:  
Ah Madam, hither I am sent to lay  
His bleeding heart before you, and inform you,  
He can no longer live without your pity;  
His tortured Soul will quickly leave its Mansion,  
Unless your kind Consent will make him happy.  Mar. 
My, my Consent! Hear me you blessed above,  
If I do ever entertain one thought  
Of love to any but my Ithocles,  
Let me continue wretched, still a Prisoner,  
And never know the blessed content of Freedom:  
This tell your Lord, and let him know beside,  
There's not one torturing Pang within his breast,  
But what's doubled in mine, and he the cause:  
Then guess what pity he must e'er expect  
From one that suffers all this pain through him.  Latt. 
Alas his Crime is caused by too much love.  
Oh had you heard, (as I too oft have done,)  
The deep-fetched sighs have sprung from his sad heart,  
The many Groans, beheld the tears h'as shed,  
His broken slumbers and his restless thoughts,  
You'd sure make a more kind return then scorn.  Mar. 
Never, Oh never, 'tis not in my power,  
My life, my heart, my love is Ithocles',  
And ' In too firmly fixed e'er to be Changed.  Latt. 
O on my knees let me return my thanks,  
Keep still, keep still this constant resolution,  
Blessed be the Powers that have inspired your breast,  
With this unshaken faith to Ithocles.  
For should you ere consent to Meleander,  
That day that gives you him must give me Death.  Mar. 
What means the Youth?  Latt. 
O Look on poor Statillia;  
On her who loves above her life that man,  
Whom you can entertain with so much scorn:  
But by the friendship that was once between us,  
And by the constant love you bear my Brother,  
Lock up this Secret as you'd guard your life,  
Lest the too fatal breath of a discovery,  
Should Seal my everlasting Banishment,  
Shut from that Bliss his dearest presence gives,  
For 'tis there only that Statillia lives.  Mar. 
O rise, thy Brother's partner in my heart,  
And what there is in my poor power to serve you,  
You may with Confidence Command: but Sister,  
(For so I now must call you, since your Brother  
Is made the full possessor of my love,)  
You may be kind and let me see you often,  
For 'tis a wondrous Comfort to th' afflicted,  
To have a kind Companion in their Sorrows.  Latt. 
O do not doubt it, for your Company  
Next Meleander's is my all I covet;  
And sometimes to divert our mournful hours,  
We'll sit, and talk, and sigh, and weep, and wish,  
T' obtain our loves, but O I fear in vain.  Mar. 
We know not that Heaven Pities the Afflicted,  
And time brings many won'drous things to pass;  
Mean while, we twins of misery and sorrow,  
Will comfort one another, like true friends:  
We'll equally share happiness and grief,  
And beg some pitying God to send relief.  Ex. Omn.  

SCENE. V. A Garden.  Enter King and Semanthe. Sem. 
My Lord, If I did ere possess your love,  
If you have any kindness for Semanthe,  
Tell me the meaning of your clouded brow,  
And why you seem thus troubled?  King. 
I have cause:  
O my Semanthe, in my last night's sleep,  
My troubled fancy has been so perplexed  
With dreadful dreams, and hideous Apparitions,  
That take away my quiet; for methought,  
(O dreadful sight!) methought the verge of Heaven,  
Was Ringed with flames, and all the upper vault,  
Thick laid with flakes of fire, i'th' midst of which  
A Blazing Comet shot his threat'ning tail,  
Just in my face; I thought 'twas terrible;  
But Oh what after came was that distracts me,  
I saw, (O that I could forget the sight)  
Just in that Bower, (mark what I say Semanthe)  
I saw thee sit, and in a short time after,  
Lord Ithocles came with a lover's speed,  
Embraced, Carressed thee, you requited him  
With Amorous looks, soft kisses, twining arms,  
With these kind words, O my dear Ithocles,  
Let us be still thus Secret in our Loves,  
And keep it close from the deluded King:  [Seizes Semanthe roughly by the Hands.] 
But by the Honour of Anointed heads,  
Were both of you hid in a Rock of fire,  
Guarded by flaming Ministers of Hell,  
By Heaven I have a sword should make my way,  
Through fire, and darkness furies Death to hew  
Each gangrened Limb of thee Infernal Sorceress.  Sem. 
Mercy Protect me, will you murder me?  
Alas! I cannot guests the cause of this.  King. 
O Pardon me Semanthe, do not blame me,  
For such another dream would quite distract me:  
But tell me love, was't not a dreadful vision?  Sem. 
It was indeed my Lord, a wondrous one,  
Yet but a dream, for should so great a guilt  
Hang on my Honour, 'twere but Justice in you,  
If you should tear my false disloyal heart out,  King, 
Thy heart! nay Strumpet even thy very Soul.  [Seizes her again. 
Tear it with fury from thy Cursed Carcase,  
And damn it ever in Immortal Death.  Sem. 
Alas what mean you Sir!  King. 
O I am mad.  
Forgive me dear Semanthe, for methinks,  
I dream anew, and it distracts me so,  
That I take Idle visions to be real;  
Leave me Semanthe, when these dreadful thoughts  
Have left my troubled breast, I'll visit thee.  Sem. 
The heavens' preserve you from those frightful dreams,  
That thus disturb the quiet of my Lord:  [Ex. Sem. Manet King. King. 
Can she be false! no 'tis impossible:  
The vision I have now related to her,  
Was only what Menaphon said he saw.  
If she were Guilty, there must needs appear,  
Something of a mistrust she was discovered.  
But she looks sweet as Roses, and appears,  
Like virgin Lilies in unsullied Infancy.  
If she be chaste than Menaphon beware,  
For I will have a dire revenge on thee,  
The torments used in Bloody Massacres;  
And more, if any more can be invented,  
Shall surely fall upon thee; but if not,  
If she be false, Destruction Ruin, Horror,  
Blood, blood, and Death, fair Infidell's thy doom:  
And if for Injured love Consummating vengeance,  
Beyond the Grave, one Hotter place there be,  
In all the hideous sphere of wrath divine,  
The very Centre of damnation's thine.  Ex. King. 
The End of the Third Act.    

The Fourth ACT.  

SCENE I.  Enter Menaphon, Orgillus, Meeting Armena. Org. 
WElcome Armena, what, is the deed done?  Arm. 
Speak softly: 'tis.  Org. 
How Long?  Arm. 
Full half an hour:  
Have you performed the same by Ithocles.  Men. 
At least an hour ago,  
The King too is Concealed at my Apartment,  
And those few Nobles that Attended him,  
He has dispered on several Occasions:  
I'll to him straight, mean while be it your care,  
To fix 'em both 'th' posture that I ordered;  
The darkness of the Night so well befriends us,  
That you with ease may secretly Convey him  
To the Queen's Lodgings, which when you've performed,  
I'll bring the King to see the Dreadful sight,  
That Gorgon like will turn him into stone:  [Ex. Men. Arm. 
O Orgillus, where do you mean to lead me?  
My heart forebodes, this ruinous design  
Will by the means of the Almighty powers,  
Those Sacred Guardians of the Innocent,  
Fall on our heads.  Org. 
An Idle fear Armenia.  
For 'tis not in the Power of fate itself,  
To hinder the design we've so well laid;  
It is impossible it should be discovered,  
Unless to one another we are false.  Arm. 
I hope my Orgillus does not doubt me,  
I who for love of thee could thus betray,  
A Queen so kind, so Innocent and Good,  
Would not at last discover the dear man,  
Whom I have forfieted my faith to serve.  Org. 
No my best life, thou dearest, kindest Creature;  
To doubt thee were a Sin unpardonable,  
As much as 'tis impossible to make  
A Return kind enough for thy deserts:  
But see, my Brother, and the King approach,  
Let us retire, and fix the dreadful Scene.  [Ex. Omn.  

SCENE II.  Enter King and Menaphon. King. 
O Menaphon, thou'st set me on the wrack;  
What! an Appointment, O my tortured Soul,  
If that the Centre now this very moment,  
Laboured to bring forth Earthquakes, and Hell opened  
Her wide stretched Jaws, and let out all her furies,  
I'd rather stand the shock, the brunt of all,  
Then but to think 'tis true that thou hast told me.  Men. 
My Liege, should I not be a desperate mad man,  
To tell you this, were I not Certain on't;  
By Heaven I heard the dark Appointment made,  
Nay more this very hour saw him go,  
Toth' Queen's Apartment.  King. 
O Perfidious Monster.  
But hast away, show me the Scene of Lust,  
Let me behold her dallying in his Arms,  
That I may shoot with swifter fate upon 'em,  
Then the Keen'st Bolt in all the Forge of Heaven.  Men. 
My Liege I will, but yet 'twere requisite  
Her Brother were a witness of her shame;  
And for the greatest Plague to Ithocles,  
Let his Marcelia too be a Spectator.  King. 
It shall be so, send speedily away,  
And bid 'em meet me in the Queen's Apartment.  Men. 
Who waits? Nearchus.  Enter Nearchus. Near. 
My Lord.  Men. 
Away,  
Hast to Marcelia, and to Meleander.  
And bid 'em instantly attend the King,  
He'll be i'th' Queen's Apartment.  King. 
Nearchus,  
Here take my signet, and release Marcelia,  
And bid 'em not to make a moment's stay—  [Ex. Near. Men. 
Come Sir, now you shall find how true I love you,  
Now you shall see the care of your poor Servant:  
With how much pains h'as watched these brooding Monsters,  
And how at last h'as ta'en 'em in the toil.  King. 
lightning and Earthquakes, Horror and despair,  
O the high Billows of my Stormy Soul!  
If it be so, Mark, mark me Menaphon,  
No Lybian Lions robbed of her young,  
Rouses herself more fiercely from her Den,  
Then I will do to crush this pair of Vipers.  
O thou shalt see with what a brave Revenge,  
I'll tear the heart from the Adulteress,  
And make the blood of the false Scorpion cure me.  Men. 
'Twill be but Justice for to wrong a King,  
O Heaven defend me, it is so damned a Crime,  
That Hell itself before ne'er bred a Fiend,  
Could entertain a thought so infamous:  
But Sir, the time draws near, will you away?  King. 
Yes I will go:  
With lightning in my eyes, in my heart Vengeance.  Exeunt Omnes.  

SCENE. III.  The Scene drawn, discovers Ithocles, and Semanthe A-sleep on a Couch, Arm in Arm. Enter Menaphon with a Light, followed by the King, Meleander, and Marcelia. King. 
Patience you Gods, hold, hold, my boiling blood.  
O 'twere a rare and Exquisite revenge,  
To join their Hearts on my Swords point as close,  
As their Ingend'ring lips.  Mele. 
What do I see!  
Vengeance and Horror, do I wake or dream!  
What, Arm in Arm, O I can hold no longer.  
Take, take Adult'ress thy just reward—  Draws. Runs to the Queen, and the King stops him. King. 
Hold, hold, I charge you; for that brave Revenge,  
Is due to me alone, wake, wake, you Monsters,  
That e'er I send you to th' infernal shades,  
I may a while torture your Souls on Earth,  
And let you know what 'tis to wrong a King.  Ithocles wakes, and seeing the Queen by him, starts: And turning round sees the King. Itho. 
Where am I! ha! What dreadful Vision's this!  
If I do wake, some pitying God above,  
Be kind, and end my life this very moment.  
My Lord the King—  King. 
Yes Monster 'tis the same;  
Who is come hither to behold a Sight,  
Would damn a Saint, and blast a Bassalisks,  
To see two brooding Vipers mix their Poisons,  
And a Lascivious lewd Adult'ress burn,  
With lust far more Tempestuous, Flames far hotter,  
Than that great day when the young Chariotier,  
Misled the Sun, and set the World on Fire:  
O I'm not able to endure the Torture:  
My Guards there.  Enter Guards Attendants, and Penthea. 
Seize on that Infernal Fiend.  Guards seize Ithocles. Itho. 
My Gracious Lord, hear me but speak one moment:  King. 
Be gone you slaves, and house him in a Dungeon;  
Load him with Irons, lay more weight on him,  
Then ought to hang upon his Cankered Soul,  
When he reflects upon his Monstrous Crime.  Guards force him out. Mar. 
O Eyes, after this Object see no more:  
O lead me, lead me from the dismal Scene:  [to Penthea▪ 
Let me no more behold the face of day,  
But in a Place fit for so lost a Wretch,  
In darkness End my miserable Life.  
There from the false deluding Flattering Tongues,  
O Faithless men, for ever I'll remain.  
And ne'er believe that Perjured Sex again.  [Exit Mar. weeping led by Penthea. King. 
Who would believe a Guilty wretch like her,  
Could take a sleep so sound—  [Semanthe wakes. 
But see the wakes,  
And seems amazed to see her lover gone:  
Turn this way wretched thing, and look on me.  [Semanthe runs amazedly to the King. Sem. 
My Lord the King! O take me to your arms,  
And shield me from that lean devouring fiend:  
O Sir, I've had a dream of so much horror,  
'Twould Certainly have rum me to distraction,  
Had not the sight of you awaked my spirits:  
But my dear Lord, I little did expect,  
T'have had your wished for company to night.  King. 
Hear, hear you Gods the Cunning of this Siren.  
Look down upon the Sex which you have made,  
To Curse Mankind and fill the world with plagues.  
O Devil, Devil in thy properest shape,  
How canst thou look upon me but with Horror?  Sem. 
Alas! what means my Lord? sure I dream still,  
I do beseech you speak not such harsh words,  
My tender heart unused to these strange sounds,  
Struggles within me, as 'twould leave its dwelling.  King. 
Peace, peace thou Artful Strumpet, talk no more.  Sem. 
What is he Angry?—  [too Mele. Mele. 
Blackest vengeance seize thee.  
Where hadst thou Impudence to ask that question?  Sem. 
Good Heaven what unknown Crime have I committed,  
To Pull that Curse from Meleander's mouth?  [weeps. Sem. 
My Royal Lord—  [to the King King. 
Damnation Stop thy Speech:  
Go take this Viper to your Custody,—  [to Bassanes. 
And let her not behold the face of day.  Sem. 
May I not know my fault?  King. 
Perdition seize thee:  
Away with her, let me not hear her speak.  Sem. 
Have you no pity?  King. 
Dogs have you no ears?  Sem. 
Stay but one Moment—  [to Bassanes King. 
Better swallow fire▪  Sem. 
Brother, Plead for me;  Mele. 
Sulphur Choke thy voice.  [Exit Meleander [Exit Semanthe forced out by Guards. King 
O I am all within a burning Aetna,  
My blood boil hotter than the Poisoned flesh  
Of Hercules Clothed in the Centaur's Shirt.  Men. 
Had I not seen, I never could have thought,  
Semanthe of all womankind was false.  King. 
She, 'tis no wonder friend, for by yond Heaven,  
The Sex is all perdition,  
When nature shall all blaze and the Poles crack,  
Hell Gape, and all its Sulphurous mines burst out,  
'Tis only woman that must light the fire.  Men. 
O horror! what a Tempest have I raised?  
Dear Sir, no more, Cease this wild rage.  King. 
I've done—  [Pauses. 
And now will study for a dire revenge.  
Rise from thy Scorching Den thou Soul of mischief,  
And teach me Torments ne'er before invented,  
Swell me revenge, till I become a Hill,  
High as Olympus' Cloud dividing Top,  
That I may fall▪ and crush 'em to the Centre.  
O that I could make her an Age in Dying,  
And O that hers were like Prometheus' heart,  
And I'th' immortal vulture to Torment it.  Men. 
O Royal Sir, upon my knees I beg,  
If all the Service that I ever did you,  
Can merit but the smallest spark of favour,  
Hear me but speak, 'tis true, she ought to Die,  
Her Crime I must confess unpardonable;  
But O consider Sir, think on her Sin,  
Think on the Anger Heaven must bear against her:  
And should you send her hence loaded with Guilt,  
'Twould forfeit all her Joys i'th' other world;  
Therefore most Sacred Sir, I do entreat,  
That you would spare her time for a repentance.  King. 
Repent! Alas! thou know'st not what thou sayst.  
Is't possible a woman e'er can Pray!  
No friend, the only use they make of Heaven, is  
To be forsworn by't, but my sense turns wild,  
And throngs of thoughts are crowding for a passage.  
By all my hopes she shan'tout-live this night,  
Even now I'll bathe my hands I'th' Stumpets' blood:  
Farewell my Lord, and e'er the morning Dawns,  
Thou shalt behold these hands Steeped in her Gore,  
And even her name razed from my memory▪  
From this wild rage, her Death shall free my Soul,  
And I forget I had a Queen so foul,  
For ever scorn, nay loathe all womankind.  
But oh my former Peace, I ne'er shall find.  [Ex. King. Manet Menaphon. Men. 
So, my designs at last have gained their end:  
But stay, Armena lives, and she's a Woman,  
By Consequence too leakey to keep secrets.  
My Brother therefore must dispatch her straight;  
By Heaven to Night, she must not live till morn,  
For that frail Sex is so much given to talk,  
They are not silent in their very sleeps,  
And tho' the secrets they're entrusted with,  
Are even the Hinges that their own lives hang on,  
Their slippery tongues, are all so given to stir,  
That death's the only thing can keep 'em still.  
Therefore to make our great Foundation sure,  
Her talking Malady by Death we'll cure.  [Exit.  

SCENE. IV. A Prison.  Ithocles discovered Chained, and lying on a Couch. A Lamp burning by him. Itho. 
To what may I compare this dismal place?  
Sure 'tis a grave, A Tomb for living Men,  
Or else a Place formed by Conspirators,  
To lay those dark and Damnable designs,  
That dare not look upon the open day.  
You mighty Rulers of the heavens' and Earth,  
You Sacred Guardians of poor wretched man,  
Do I deserve these Chains, this loathsome Dungeon?  
You know my Innocence, you know what spells  
Betrayed me to the Embraces of the Queen:  
You know the Villainy of Menaphon,  
(For sure 'twas his most damnable design,  
That did Convey me to that fatal place,)  
By what cursed drugs he shut my senses up,  
That when I waked I spied my own undoing.  Enter Marcelia. 
Marcelia here! then sorrow take thy leave,  
And nought but Joy inhabit in my breast,  
O to my Arms thou Goddess of my days,  
Why dost thou thrust me from thee, O my Soul?  
Do not thou join too with the Angry powers,  
And make my mighty load of misery,  
More heavy than before.  Mar. 
No perjured Man,  
I come not here t'upbrayed you with your Crime,  
But since the King has given me his permission,  
To let me see you; know my Lord I come,  
To take my Eternal leave.  Itho. 
What means my Love?  
I know indeed my death draws on apace,  
My innocence by Villany's betrayed.  
But hoped my Marcelia would have been more kind,  
Then ever to suspect my Constancy.  Mar. 
Suspect! Alas, 'twas more than bare suspicion,  
'Twas not the Power of the World could move me,  
Had I not seen it, to believe thee false:  
But when clasped Arm in Arm I did behold thee,  
And after that thou durst forswear thy Crime,  
It adds the Sin of Perjury to Falsehood,  
And makes thee seem a Mon'strous thing indeed.  Itho. 
By the Eternal Lamps that light the Skies,  
'Twas Villainy and damned Contrivance all.  
The Plot, and Treachery of Menaphon.  
The Queen is Innocent as unborn babes,  
Tho' fallen with me in that cursed Traitor's snare.  Mar. 
O, Men▪ Men! who would e'er believe your Oaths.  
The Moon does not so often change her Course,  
As you do Change your loves; I'll hear no more:  
Let me but take one look from those dear eyes.  
And now, false Sex farewell.  [offers to go. Itho. 
O stay, dear Angel stay;  Mar. 
No, my unkind, false Lord, farewell for ever.  Itho. 
Stay but one minute, stay mistaken sweetness,  [Kneels 
Do not forsake your Loyal prost'rate slave.  
Here I take root, and grow into my Grave,  
Till I have gained belief of my Marcelia.  
O, hear me, hear me, for by you bright Heaven,  
My oaths are true, the Gods can witness for me,  
They see, they know my heart, my truth, my Soul.  Mar. 
O Ithocles, Stop, stop that fatal Eloquence,  
Such were the very Sounds that first undid me:  
Thou true! no Cruel man, speak it no more.  
I will not hear it named, it is a sound  
I never can believe from man again:  
Would you be so unkind t'undo me more?  
Did I not see you false, saw your embraces?  Itho. 
What shall I say, is there no pitying God,  
That will descend a witness of my truth?  Mar. 
No there is none, they all have seen thy falsehood,  
Farewell, and O that fatal name of love,  
I now shall hear no more, Heaven grant you freedom,  
And may you long inherit happiness,  
Possess in every thing your wish, whilst I,  
Go seek some Melancholy Cell and Die—  Ex Mar▪ Manet Ithocles. Itho. 
Not hear my Innocence? thou shalt fair murderess,  
I'll Thundered in thy Ears till I am dead.  
Nay, when thy scorn has laid my bones in dust,  
I'll burst my Marble Load, and tell thee Tyrant,  
Thou wert the Chiefest cause of my affliction:  
Yes, thou shalt hear—  
My murmuring Groans, thy murdered Lover's Groans,  
Whilst all thy Glorious Locks, those beauteous Tresses,  
On thy Proud Forehead fixed with horror stand,  
Erected like the strutting Porcupine,  
And the bright fires in those bewitching eyes,  
Wane and burn Pale at my approaching Ghost,  
And Wish too late for what thy Scorn had lost.  [Exit Ithocles▪  

SCENE. V.  A Banquet set forth. Two Bowls on the Table. Enter Orgillus. Org. 
I've sent according to my Brother's order,  
To bid Armena meet me instantly,  
'Tis near the hour I did appoint her coming;  
How easy 'tis for man to be a villain;  
He that desires to bend his mind to mischief,  
Let him but be a fixed Industrious knave,  
And he can never fail of his designs.  
I hated Ithocles, conspired his fall,  
Assisted Menaphon in his design  
Against a Queen virtuous and Innocent:  
But why should I conspire Armena's Death?  
I cannot guests what Crime she has Committed;  
But I have waded into villainy,  
And to proceeds less dangerous than retreating,  
The deeper Gulf I have plunged o'er, and now  
Have but the shallower Brink to ford it through.  Enter a Servant. 
How now? your news?  Ser. 
Armena Craves admittance.  Org. 
Conduct her in—  [Exit Servant.] 
Keep back you Checks of Conscience▪  
You should have stung me e'er I had began  
This damnable design, 'twould now be base,  
To start from what so firmly was resolved.  Enter Armena. 
She comes the Sacrifice draws toward the Altar,  
Come near my love, why does my Angel weep?  
Why drops the precious dew from those fair eyes?  
Art thou not well? what means that sigh Armena?  
If thou didst ever love me, tell the cause.  Arm. 
O Orgillus, O cruel bloody man!  
To what a Sea of Ruin have you brought me?  Org. 
Is't Possible! do you repent your kindness?  Arm. 
Oh as you hope for happiness hereafter,  
As you would gain Immortal peace of Heaven,  
Be just, and save the Queen, and Ithocles,  
Declare to th' King your cursed mint of Forgery,  
Lay open all your Plot of blood and horror,  
And save your own, your Brother's Soul and mine:  
For sure Damnation must attend our Crime,  
That thus betrays a pair so Innocent.  Org. 
How, my Armena! What! betray the secret?  
Wouldst thou then have me Traitor to my Brother▪  
Betray the man that has walked hand in hand,  
Assisted me in my Revenge: O horrid!  Arm. 
A Traitor to him, no, you'll be's friend,  
You free him from Eternal Punishment.  
D'ye think that Heaven, (which is in all things Just,)  
Will suffer treachery like ours to scape  
The Punishment our Treason has deserved?  
Upon my knees I beg you, as you hope,  
For pleasure here, and happiness hereafter;  
Go to the King, tell him your damned design,  
His Joy to find the Queen is Innocent,  
Will make him pardon us for our past crimes;  
And all the ill we have already done,  
Will be for ever canceled and forgot.  Org. 
Sit down my love, and tell me: should I now  
Go to the King, acknowledge every fault,  
Tell him by what strange execrable means,  
We brought those Innocents into our Snare,  
D'ye think he would forgive us?  Arm. 
Not that only,  
But Favour us, esteem us his best friends,  
Commend our happy, blessed Remorse of Conscience;  
Think every hour of our remaining life  
Will be repentance, (as I'm sure it ought,)  
To wash the Guilt away that Clogs our Souls.  Org. 
Since than Armena 'twas the love of me,  
Betrayed thee into our dark Consultation,  
I will to thee unfold my nearest Secret;  
My Brother and myself had so designed,  
The morrow for Semanthes Execution,  
But now to show my Gratitude and love,  
(Together with a sharp remorse of Conscience,)  
I'll change my Cruel, and (too) barbr'ous purpose,  
Content myself with what's already done,  
And rely wholly on the King for mercy.  Arm. 
And are you real?  Org. 
As the Powers we serve.  Arm. 
I thank you from my Soul my dearest Lord,  
You have by this kind grant made me your vassal.  Org. 
Armena, A long life to the fair Queen;  
May she enjoy her former happiness,  
And be as blessed as thou wilt presently,  
When I've revealed our story to the King,  
For sure 'twill overjoy thee.  [Orgillus drinks.] Arm. 
With more pleasure  
I wish her life, than Heirs their Father's Deaths.  [Armena drinks out of the Poisoned Bowl.] 
But O make haste, lest his wild Jealousy,  
Should hurry him to do the fatal deed,  
Which ne'er can be recalled.  Org. 
It shall not be recalled, nor shalt thou hinder it.  Arm. 
What means my Love?  Org. 
Dull thing I'll tell thee:  
I did (as now I find I had some cause,)  
Suspect thy mind too wavering for a Secret,  
Of such great Consequence as ours was:  
Therefore thou frail one, with that bowl of poison,  
I've Sealed thy lips for ever.  Arm. 
Can it be?  
Is this then the requital of my love?  
But Oh 'tis now too late for to upbraid thee:  
Yet Orgillus, tho' you to me are Cruel,  
Be merciful toth' Queen She's Innocent:  
O Save her, save her ere it be too late;  
Upon my knees with my last breath I beg, you  
Do not persist in that will bring destruction  
Even to your long eternity, and blot  
Your spotted Soul from the fair Book of Life.  Org. 
A fit of Conscience; Pious fool! but Conscience,  
Is all our common frailty, when we're dying.  
But to be kinder to you at our parting,  
Then let you spend your last short breath in vain,  
Employ the little time thou hast to live,  
Some other way, and not on talk to me▪  
I have got by thee all the good I can▪  
If thou hadst had a farther Power to serve me,  
Thou shouldst have lived, but I have gained my End,  
And now 'tis for my Interest thou shouldst die.  Arm. 
You have your wish, I find your words are true▪  
For Deaths Cold hand has seized upon my heart:  
Farewell thou Chief of thy false perjured Sex,  
And O take heed! for blood will sure have blood;  
Tho' Cruel as you are, I can forgive you,  
And wish that Heaven would deal so mildly by you▪  
My death is only what I have deserved.  
But O beware, let not Semanthe Die,  
For hers, will surely be revenged at full▪  
The fatal Drug works strongly in my breast,  
I feel, I feel my life decay apace;  
You powers forgive me for my Sinful Crime▪  
Take me; O take me to your blessed abode;  
Preserve the Queen▪ let not this black design,  
Reach her dear life, tho' it has lost me mine.  [Die▪ Org. 
She's gone, now Brother thou'rt secure from fear,  
The Secret now's alone between us two;  
And if we are not Traitors to ourselves,  
We must be safe; where shall I now dispose her?  
Stay, let me see, under my window runs,  
A River, very proper for my purpose:  
From thence Immediately I'll cast her in,  
And if she's found, every one will suppose,  
She met her Death by accident, or else,  
My Brother shall Insinuate to the King,  
She was Complotter with the Queen Semanthe,  
And Guilt had caused her act a desperate deed:  
It shall be so, I'll instantly dispatch,  
And tell my Brother how I have Succeeded.  
Farewell thou loving fool, I pity thee.  
But 'twas not for my safety thou shouldst live:  
For when we once are Conscientious grown,  
We cannot keep a Secret tho' our own,  [Exit Carrying off Armena▪ The Scene Drawn discovers Semanthe in Prison, In her Nightgown, Reading, A Lamp burning by her. Sem. 
All's hushed, and quiet as the peaceful Grave,  
The Labourer tired with his daily toil;  
Now takes a sweet repose, but I must wake,  
For ever wake, and never know content,  
Placed in a dismal, dark, and Loathsome Jail,  
And cannot guests what Crime I have Committed,  
Nor why the Cruel King is Angry,  
Were I but sensible of any fault,  
I should then think it Justice I were here,  
But could I search my life from the beginning,  
I cannot think a Guilt deserving this.  Enter to her the King. 
Whose there at this late hour? my Lord the King!  King. 
Yes, yes Adulteress:  
Look on me Monster, look on him thou'st wronged,  
Behold a King that would have died for'thee,  
And for his faithful violent Constant love,  
Couldst thou not make him a more kind return.  Sem. 
O Sir, as you would gain Immortal honour  
On Earth, and everlasting Joys in Heaven,  
As you would have your Glorious actions fill  
The Book of fame, and like ascending Incense,  
Perfume the Skies, and treat th' immortal Gods,  
Be kind, and let me know how I've offended,  
For by the Sacred lights that shine above,  
These eyes yet never saw the rising Sun,  
But that my Vows and Prayers were sent to Heaven,  
For the dear safety of my Royal Lord;  
Therefore I cannot guests what wondrous favit,  
I have Committed to deserve a Dungeon.  King. 
O thou bewitching Siren▪ dar'st thou plead,  
An Ignorance to all thy horrid Guilt,  
Nay, than thou are a Monster damned indeed,  
To Plunge in Sin and pretend Innocence:  
I thought, t'have found thee mourning for thy Crime:  
For Sinful as thou art it was my wish,  
Thou might'st before thy Death make peace with Heaven.  Sem. 
My death! Good Heaven what means my Royal Lord?  
I hope that time is not yet near at hand▪  King. 
Most sure, why couldst thou think I'd be so tame,  
After I'd found thee false to let thee live?  Sem. 
How false my Lord? in what?  King. 
False to my bed.  
I need not tell thee, for thou know'st too well,  
By Heaven thou art as light as fleeting air:  Sem. 
Who's my accuser?  King. 
My own eyes beheld thee,  
Clasped arm in arm with Ithocles.  Sem. 
Nay then,  
I find I am Betrayed, and you Abused.  King. 
Betrayed! Good Heaven! what does the strumpet mean?  
Nay then 'tis time to give the fatal blow:  
For should I listen longer to her words,  [Aside. 
She would persuade me spite of all I saw,  
To take her to my Arms and pardon her.  
Come thou fair Devil, in thy Prayers reckon,  [to her. 
The perfect sum of all thy horrid sins;  
There amongst others, pour forth streams of blood,  
For one above the rest▪ Adul'try, Adul'try, Semanthe,  
Such a guilt, as were the Sluices of thy eyes let up,  
Tears could not wash it off.  
Now turn thy eyes into thy hovering Soul,  
And do not hope for life, would Angels sing,  
A Requiem at my Hearse but to dispense  
With my Revenge on thee, 'twould be in vain:  
Prepare to die.  Sem. 
I will, most willingly,  
But would fain make my Innocence appear,  
Dear Sir, upon my knees I do entreat you  
To hear me speak before my Execution:  
If I were that strange Monster you would make me,  
It were but Justice you should take my life,  
But here I swear by the Eternal Powers,  
By all my hopes in Heaven, I am not false,  
Believe my tears.  King. 
There's nothing of thee real,  
I'd been too happy if thou hadst been true:  
The thrifty heavens' mingle our Sweets with gall,  
Lest being glutted with excess of good,  
We should ungratefully forget the giver.  Sem. 
O Sir—  King. 
Be gone, take those Enchanting eyes away,  
There's a bewitching Influence within  
Those sparkling Circles, that unmans my Soul:  Sem. 
Nay, if these eyes have Power to make you kind,  [kneels. 
They shall pursue you wheresoever you go;  
With their soft, humble▪ pleading, courting tears,  
I'll weep 'em blind to quench your raging fires.  
Dear Sir, indulge, Improve these sparks of pity,  
Mercy's the Glory of a Deity, subdue  
Your wild desires, and that Heroic deed,  
Is Nobler than the Conquest of a Kingdom;  
But if you stain your hands with Guiltless blood,  
Then think what dismal horrors wait on murder,  
Woolves, Ravens, screech-Owls than will be your Guests,  
And my pale Ghost will haunt your startling Sleeps,  
Press your sad thoughts with loads more heavy than  
The ponderous Marble that Entombs my ashes.  King. 
By Heaven I can no longer bear her sorrows,  
Her watery eyes would make a Tiger tame,  
One accent of that tongue would Calm the Seas,  
Tho' all the Winds strove there at once for Empire▪  
But Ha!  
Where am I going? Stay my fleeting Glory,  
I had designed that great, that brave reveage,  
As should have fixed my vast immortal fame,  
High as a Monumental Pyramid,  
And hid its Towering Top among the Clouds,  
But thou false fiend wouldst shake my great Foundation:  
Take thy face hence.  Sem. 
O Sir?  King. 
I'll hear no more.  
Vanish false fire, bright Meteor disappear;  
It is not safe for me to tarry here;  
My mighty mind would keep its sacred way,  
But she strews Flowers to lead my Soul astray.  [Ex. King. Manet Semanthe. Sem. 
Pity me Heaven, and view my wretched State,  
Let me not undeserv'dly meet my fate,  
O Change this frantic humour in the King,  
His straggling sense to its first Station bring;  
Calm his wild rage, let him his Error see,  
But if your doom decrees that I must die,  
Let when I'm dead my Innocence appear,  
My spotless virtue to the World stand fair.  
O grant his mourning pity may but come,  
And shed one tear on poor Semanthe's Tomb.  [Exit Weep. 
The End of the Fourth Act.    

The Fifth ACT.  

SCENE I. A Palace.  Enter King Solus. King. 
WHat's Nature, and the Power that Governs it?  
Man is the Puppet of the Gods, and moves—  
Backwards and forwards as they please to dance him,  
Now could I laugh to find myself a fool,  
And yet be mad to think I can't be otherwise:  
Where's all my blust'ring Roaring Storm against  
Semanthe? hushed, and Calmed, and all because  
Her tears had Power to charm me into fondness?  
My great Foundation's laid in sand, one minute  
Fierce as Incount'ring Lions, and the next,  
I'm tamer than the meekest Beast they Pray on.  Enter Menaphon. Men. 
Good morning to the King, my Royal Master:  
May health, and happiness for ever wait you;  
O may you never know one hour of sorrow,  
May sweet content dwell ever in your breast,  
And all your days and Nights be filled with Joys  
Equal to those the blessed above possess.  King. 
I thank thee Menaphon for thy kind wishes,  
But oh they're what I never must expect:  
Alas! I am a thing the World does laugh at,  
And all those Clouds, those dark and dismal Clouds,  
Which bar the Sun from shining on my misery,  
Will never be chased off till I am dead.  Men. 
The Gods forbid; O do not name your death,  
My Loyal heart weeps tears of blood to hear it:  
Alas my Lord, I thought e'er this t' have seen,  
A Riotous Pleasure Rev'ling in your eyes,  
To think how bravely you'd revenged your wrongs;  
I thought t' have heard you say, come Menaphon,  
Now thou shalt see I am a King again:  
The Snake I long had fostered in my breast,  
Is Crushed, th' Adulterate Queen is now no more.  King. 
O why my friend? why should that fair one die?  
The Model of the heavens', the Earth, the Waters;  
The Harmony and sweet consent of time,  
Are not so beautiful in their Creation,  
As is Semanthe: shall I throw away  
A Jewel, Empires are to poor to purchase;  
What thou she's faulty, look but on her face,  
Oh there's that Expiating brightness there,  
As Guilds o'er all the Sables of her Soul,  
And all her faults and spots are seen no more.  Men. 
Why lives she still then?  King. 
Yes my friend, she does:  
'Tis true I went with fixed resolves to kill her;  
But when I came (Oh who can paint the Scene!)  
I saw the beauteous Creature all in tears,  
A winking Lamp was burning by her side;  
Her Palace was become a loathsome Jail,  
Nought but infectious damps were her Companions:  
I saw her on her knees a while unmoved,  
But Oh at last I could no longer hold,  
By a long siege of tears she calmed my fury,  
And I had not the power to give the Blow:  
O Menaphon the keen edged Sword of Justice,  
I held advanced in air, but O her eyes,  
There shot that Lightning from those beauteous heavens',  
That th' Angry Steel was melted down before 'em.  Men. 
I'm glad to find such mercy dwells within you,  
I must confess the Chiefest of my wishes,  
Is, she may live, but give me leave to think,  
I blot my Loyalty in wishing it.  
For O what Flood can ever wash away,  
The stain that hangs upon your honour Sir?  
Consider but the talk of other Nations,  
When they shall hear (as this can be no secret,)  
How your own eyes beheld your Queen's dishonour,  
Saw her in the Embraces of a Traitor.  
And after that you could sit tamely down,  
Without a dire Revenge for the black deed,  
'Twill make your little name blown round the World,  
The Forregn shame, and your own Subjects scorn.  King. 
Oh! thou hast stung me to the very Soul,  
It must, it will be so; methinks I see  
How the proud haughty King of Sicily,  
Devours the welcome news of my dishonour,  
Oh she must die, she must, by Heaven she shall,  
Nay, die a public Spectacle to the World,  
And her vile Minion too, cursed Ithocles  
Shall bear her company, this very day  
I'll sign an order for their Execution,  
And let it be your care to see it performed.  Men. 
Nay, now you bend too much the other way,  
This is short warning for departing Souls,  
For pities sake Sir, let 'em live till Morn.  King. 
Round me you furies that delight in mischief,  
And ever keep me waking till the Cliffs,  
That overhangs my light, fall off and leave  
These hollow spaces to be crammed with dust,  
If I do either eat or drink, or sleep,  
Till I have finished my great just revenge.  Men. 
Well Sir, I will no more strive to dissuade you,  
But what death would you have Semanthe die,  King. 
Ha! By the Gods, a Question worth disputing,  
And it would puzzle an ingenious Artist  
T'invent a way to kill her, for by fire  
Or water 'tis impossible to do't,  
Betwixt her falsehood and her flowing Lust,  
She is too rank to burn, too light to drown,  
Nay, should I bury the incarnate Monster  
Like the slain Giants under Piles of Mountains,  
Her dust like Aetna's flames, would burst through all.  
Take thy own method, let me see her dead,  
I care not how.  Men. 
Well Sir, I'll do my best,  
I must confess I would not have her live,  
For the respect I bear to my Royal Master,  
Therefore I hope you will not change your mind,  King. 
O never, never shalt thou See me changed,  
Thou'lt roused a sleeping Lion, whom no art,  
Nor any thing can e'er reclaim but blood.  
Where was before my blinded folly driven,  
Mercy, what art thou? get thee back to Heaven.  
What has the race of man to do with thee?  
Leave humane minds to nobler passions free.  
Hence forward Death and Ruin Reign alone,  
Make Hell your Vassal, and the world your Throne.  [Ex. King.] Manet Menaphon. Men. 
'Tis done, the fatal Train has taken fire,  
I'll follow him, lest he should change again,  
By Heaven I am all ecstasy to think  
Of the long prosperous chain of our success.  
Once by thy doom proud Queen, the very breath  
That durst repeat the sound of love, was death,  
But oh the pleasure of revenge to dart  
Thy own Retorted threats, on thy own heart,  
Yes, thou hast scorned me Queen, but know the wrongs  
Of slighted love shall knit their Scorpion thongs,  
Whilst each disdainful step thou dost retire,  
Thou treadest on Graves, and walkest o'er Piles of Fire.  [Ex. Men.]  

SCENE II.  Enter Meleander and Lattinius. Mele. 
Why do I live with such a load of sorrow?  
Oppressed with tortures of despairing Love;  
A Sister's shame, my family's dishonour,  
Oh my Lattinius! Can this weight be borne?  
I went to see the false one, and resolved  
To have died myself in her polluted Blood,  
But when the Prison door I would have entered,  
My trembling Joints refused to bear me farther;  
My Ominous Nostrils gushed forth Streams of Purple,  
And to my thinking, all the Heauns appeared  
Like blazing Meteors hanging o'er my head;  
When straight a hollow voice had reached my ears,  
Crying allowed, thy Sister's innocent;  
'Twas surely more than the effects of fancy,  
I left the place, and to my Chamber went,  
Stretched on the Floor, and washed the Ground with tears;  
My Sister's shame had left my memory,  
And more distracting thoughts did enter in me;  
Marcelia's scorn came fresh into my mind,  
And to my wretched poor tormented Soul,  
Set yawning, kneen devouring Fate before me,  
In her most dreadful black, and hideous form.  Lat. 
I grieve to see your wondrous discontent,  
And needs must own an equal share with you,  
For every sigh that comes from your sad Breast,  
Whole streams of Blood flow from my tender Heart▪  Mele. 
O my poor Boy! Why, why art thou thus kind?  
Since fair Marcelia will not pity me,  
I would have all the World abandon me.  Enter Marcelia crosing the Stage. 
See where she comes, what means my trembling Heart?  
I'll meet her, though her frowns should strike me dead.  [Mele. kneels before Mar. as she's going off.] 
Oh cruel Beauty! e'er you move from hence,  
Hear me one word, and I shall die in Peace,  
Behold me at your Feet, behold my sorrows.  [She offers to go.] 
O do not leave me, hear me first, O hear me;  
Think of the Pangs despairing lovers feel,  
Think of the torments I endure for you,  
That do with such indiff'rency look on me.  Mar. 
Alas my Lord, why should you talk to me?  
To one that has already been deceived,  
O shall I ere believe a man again,  
Since Ithocles, he whom I thought the best,  
Proved false.  Mele. 
Then why should you still love him?  
Rather revenge his falsehood, pity me,  
And place your love on one that more deserves;  
On him, whose heart, whose Soul is all your own,  
And ne'er can be another's.  Mar. 
So he swore,  
And I fond fool believed it to be true,  
But when he found my Heart was fixed to his,  
My constant love so firm ere to be changed.  
The Vows, the Oaths he made to Heaven and me,  
He forfeited, and gave his Soul away.  
Then would you have me trust a man again?  
No, you blessed powers, rather let me be placed  
In a wild Desert 'mongst a herd of Beasts;  
The Wolf, the Tiger, and the spotted Leopard,  
Are less devourers then faithless Men,  
You may as soon call back the Sun, stay time,  
Prescribe a Law to death, as ever find  
One true of all your perjured Sex.  
A man! The very name is monstrous,  
Nay, even the Breath that utters the vile sound,  
Flies like infection over all the Air.  Mele. 
Why should you thus condemn the Sex for one?  Mar. 
For one! for all; Oh you are all the same:  
All of one faithless lineage, form, creation,  
Like twins in infidelity, each feature,  
And every vein filled up with the same falsehood;  
The Sirens Songs, the Crocodiles false tears  
Are less deceitful than the oaths of men.  Mele. 
Hear me mistaken beauty, by yond Heaven,  
The words of Angels are not more sincere,  
Than what I speak, my love as fixed and firm  
As Rocks of Adamant.  Mar. 
Hear me my Lord, and hear me you blessed powers,  
To that false Image of yourselves called man,  
To you, and all your Sex I bid farewell,  
My fixed resolves stand a decree of Fate;  
Therefore no more endeavour to dissuade me,  
For when I do consent to love again,  
May he I love with loath my hate, receive me,  
Eternal discord, raise her bar between us.  
May I his love, as you do mine pursue,  
And he fly me, as thus I fly from you.  [Ex. Mar.] Mele. 
Then farewell Life, and all my pains at once,  
For by the Gods I'll not outlive thy hate,  
Lattinius, if the love thou ownest be real,  
When I am dead, do me this Courtesy,  
Bear to this cruel Woman my last words,  
And let her know, my love to her was true.  Lat. 
O Sir, upon my knees I do entreat you,  
Yet harbour patience, who knows, she may change;  
'Tis certain Sir, that Ithocles must die,  
And time may turn this resolution from her;  
The Ephesian Matron for a while was constant,  
And washed her Husband's Grave with truest tears,  
But at the last, quite tired with useless sorrow,  
She did receive a Lover to her Arms;  
Marcelia may do this, she is but a woman,  
And subject to the frailties of her Sex.  Mele. 
I could, I hope she ever could be moved  
With endless patience I could wait the time,  
Outlive th' old Patriarchs age, in love, grow hoary  
At her dear feet, and wear like Aetna's top,  
My Fire, and Snow together.  Lat. 
Doubt not my Lord.  Enter Bassanes. Bas. 
I beg you'd pardon my unwelcome news,  
The Queen your Sister Sir—  Mele. 
Why, what of her.  Bass. 
Must die this day.  Mele. 
'Tis well.  Bass. 
My Lord—  Mele. 
'Tis well.  
Would in the Cradle she'd resigned her breath,  
What death Bassanes?  Bass. 
Sir behind the Palace.  
The King decrees that she shall die by fire,  Mele. 
By fire! is that her doom? Well, 'tis decreed,  
Semanthe thou shalt sleep, though but in ashes,  
Leave me Bassanes, and Lattinius leave me.  Lat. 
Sir I cannot leave you.  [Ex. Bass.] Mele. 
What sayst thou boy?  Lat. 
Indeed I dare not leave you.  
Your Clouded brow foretells some storm at hand,  
And I much fear 'tis on yourself 'twill fall,  
Your Sister's Death is strongly working in you,  
And makes me dread the fatal Consequence.  Mele. 
Thou art mistaken boy, my Sister's death,  
I meet with all serenity and calmness;  
For if she's guilty, 'twould be most unfit,  
A thing so Leprous, should infect the Earth,  
If innocent, those Powers that take her hence,  
For all her wrongs, her Thorny Coronets,  
Her bleeding Veins, and her more bleeding fame,  
Have those bright Jemms in an immortal Crown,  
What vast reserve of Glories to adorn her,  
In the bright Realm of everlasting day,  
As more than all her Losses shall repay.  Lat. 
What then disturbs you?  Mele. 
My despairing love.  Lat. 
It may not long be so.  Mele. 
I fear for ever.  
Then why shouldst thou expect that I will live,  
When by my violent Pains too sure I find,  
Slaves at an Oar have greater ease than I,  
Hardened to Labours they their Pains defy,  
Dispair in Love's the only misery.  
We with fresh Agonies our Souls torment,  
View the bright Tracks where th' adored Beauty went,  
And with fresh Pains our endless Plagues deplore,  
To think our setting Sun will rise no more.  [Exeunt Omnes.  

SCENE III. A Wood  Enter Orgillus. Org. 
Where e'er I go my Conscience still pursues,  
And the pale Figure of the dead Armena  
Is ever in my view; 'twas not well done,  
So ill to gratify, the woman loved me,  
Besides, I only feared she might discover  
What I myself am now inclined to do.  
The Queen this day must die a public death,  
'Tis not too late, I yet may save her from it.  [Horns and Huntsmen at a distance. 
What noise is that! the echoing cries of Huntsmen,  
Alas! the hunted Stagg himself, that flies  
From all those open Mouths of death behind him,  
Is not alarmed with my pursuing horrors;  
He has but a Life, but I a Soul in danger.  Enter Menaphon behind. Men. 
Thus far I've watched my Brother, whose sad thoughts,  
I fear, bodes Ruin to our great design.  
I find his foolish Conscience does perplex him,  
And dare not trust my ' Life in the weak hold  
Of Conscientious hands, although a Brothers.  
He that would manage Glorious mischief safe,  
Should guide his rolling Chariot like the Sun,  
And singly hold the mighty Reins alone:  
Into his Seat no aiding Partner call,  
Lest the misguideing Phaeton hazard all.  Org. 
Should I discover it, and save her Life,  
And the King's Mercy too should grant me mine,  
Where then is Menaphon? What must he die?  
What an ungrateful wretch should I be counted,  
To leave my Brother tangled in the snare,  
When I myself have power to keep him out.  
But yet the violent love that the King bears  
To beautiful Semanthe is so great,  
That should I tell him all our Villainy,  
I might with ease make Covenants of safety,  
And sign my own and pardoned Brother's Life.  Menaphon comes forward. Men. 
Brother, with Joy I've heard your troubled Conscience,  
And am well pleased your thoughts keep pace with mine.  
O Brother! Brother! with such dreams of horror,  
Since poor Armena's death, my fancy's plagued,  
That had not your Remorse of Conscience found you,  
I should alone have told it to the King.  Org. 
How! My dear generous Brother.  Men. 
Yes my Orgillus,  
An Orient Beam of Penitence dawns within me,  
The Shadows of my once benighted Soul  
All vanished, and bright day breaks forth in Glory.  Org. 
And is kind Heaven this dear Conversion true?  
Is my kind Brother—  Men. 
Yes, see here a Profilite  [Kneels] 
To Heaven, Religion, Honour, Piety,  
Semanthe, the Innocent Semanthe, die;  
No, I will snatch her from the yawning Precipice,  
And fix her righted Fame, and rescued Innocence,  
On that Immortal Pyramid of Glory,  
That the admiring. World with up lift Eyes,  
And low bent Knees, shall pay their joyful tribute,  
At her blessed Restauration; with my own  
Repenting Hand I'll twine, twine a rich Chaplet  
Of Flowers, and Roses, and Eternal Sweets,  
T' adorn her Sacred Brow.  Org. 
O my Just Brother,  
Now thou'rt all white again, most lovely fair;  
O there's that Rapture in Divine Repentance,  
No wonder it unlocks the Gates of Heaven,  
When Oh, there blows a Gale, a fragrant Gale  
Of Perfumes from the very Air it flies in.  
That sure 'tis all a breath of Parradise:  
And shall Semanthe live! come to my Arms,  
O nearer to Breast.  Men. 
Yes, to thy Heart—  [Stabs him.] Org. 
Villain, perfidious Villain, thou hast killed me.  Org. falls.] Men. 
Yes, lie there Pity, my great Plot was found'ring,  
And I have stopped the leak.  Org. 
Kissed and Betrayed!  
Embraced and Murdered!  Men. 
Yes, Religious Fool.  
Thou wert too good for Earth, and I in pity  
Have kindly given thee Heaven, so sleep Conscience;  
And now, wake, wake Revenge again.  Org. 
Oh, [Groans] Horns and Huntsmen again.]  Men. 
Ha! Company; Curse on this Interruption,  
No matter, I am sure I have dispatched him,  
And his short breath's too weak to hurt me now;  
But let me prudently retire unseen:  
My Face has danger in't, now dear, dear Vengeance.  [Ex. hastily drawing off Orgillus.]  

SCENE IU. The Scene Changes.  Enter Guards making way for the Queen. Guar. 
Room there, bear back; room for the Queen.  Enter Semanthe in white, attended with six Ladies in Mourning; Bassanes, Guards, and Attendants. Quee. 
Kind Gentlemen, there needs not this formality,  
I am passed all State Ceremony now,  
Alas, there's no distinction in the Grave,  
The proudest Sovereign Head when laid in Dust,  
Sleeps on as Coarse a Pillow as a Pesant's.  
And Oh! there opes that narrow Gate to Heaven,  
That Majesty itself must stoop as humbly  
For ent'rance there, as the poor crawling Cottager.  
Well Gentlemen, you come to see me die;  
To see the scattered ashes of your Queen,  
Blown round the spreading Globe, but oh! my friends,  
Could but my spotless Soul be seen as plainly,  
Oh! to the utmost corners of the Earth,  
The sounding Trump of my immortal innocence,  
Would fill Fame's swelling volume with a story,  
So full of woe, and that unequal fate,  
As tender drowning eyes would melt to read,  
And the hard cause of poor Semanthe dead,  
Even distant worlds, and pitying ages plead.  [Exit Omn.  

SCENE V.  The Scene drawn, discovers a great many Spikes fixed in the Ground, and a high Battlement above it. Enter King Menaphon, Meleander, Guards and Attendants. King. 
Brother, I sent for you to see a justice  
Done on the Monster that has wronged us both,  
Haste Amyclas, and bring the viper forth.  [Ex. Amyclas.] Re-enter Amyclas with Ithocles, chained in's Shirt and Drawers, a night Gown over'em, Guarded. Itho. 
My death you have decreed, and Heaven permitted,  
But know mistaken King, I wear a Soul  
So free from that black charge for which I die,  
That at my Launch into Eternity,  
I shall soar lighter than a mounting Angel,  
And smile above, when thou false Menaphon  
Shalt grin below; and though I leave the world  
In poor deluded eyes, and Popular breath,  
A Cank'red bloated thing, the hour will come,  
When Fame's Recanting Trump shall sound my innocence.  
Murder may hush, and guiltless blood may flumber,  
But oh they never sleep, the hour will come,  
When the story of my Fate, and the dark Leagues,  
And black Cabals against Semanthe's Honour,  
And both our lives shall be all, all disclosed,  
Whilst our amazing murder turns, a spectre  
Shall fright you with the form.  King. 
I'll hear no more.  
I came not here to have my Royal justice  
Arraigned, but executed, guilt so hardened,  
As durst offend like thee, can never want  
A forehead too, as hardened to deny it.  
Take him away, by Heaven my feeble rage  [Ex. Guards with Itho. the Scene shuts.] 
Is plumed with Down, and falls like feathered snow,  
But rouse my Bolts of Fate, and murdered Love,  
Thy sleeping furies wake— but oh Semanthe,  
Though this avenging Sword my honour draws,  
Proud of the Justice, yet I mourn the cause,  
And oh! though pleased I send thee to the Grave,  
I live to kill, what I would die to save.  Enter Lattinius hastily, and kneels to the King. Lat. 
Oh Sir!  
As you'd secure your everlasting peace,  
And dearer Soul, and guard a groaning Kingdom  
From the impending plagues of guiltless blood,  
Save, save Semanthe's Life.  King. 
What means the Boy?  Lat. 
By the bright Guardians of the Throne she's innocent;  
Oh injured Sir! that shame of the Creation,  [Pointing to Meda.] 
Th' incarnate Devil Menaphon in a Wood,  
Has babourously butchered his own Brother,  
Who found by Huntsmen in his gasping Pangs,  
Had just Remains of Life, enough to open  
That most infernal Mass of Forgery;  
Against the virtuous Queen's immaculate Honour,  Men. 
Sure the youth raves.  Lat. 
By Heaven my Lord, 'tis true,  
But fly, and save her life ere 'tis too late,  
Then lend your Leisure to the hideous story,  
Prepare your ears to ache, and Soul to tremble.  King. 
Haste Amyclas, and stop the Execution.  Lat. 
Oh fly Sir, with a posting Angels speed,  
An Angel to redeem.  [To Amyclas as he's going off.] [Ex Amy. running.] Orgillus wounded, brought in by Huntsmen, Menaphon starts. Men. 
Ha! my Brother,  
Vengeance and Hell, my Plots are all unravelled,  
Curse on my erring hand.  [Aside.] Org. 
Save, save the Queen.  
Oh Sir she's innocent, her spotless truth,  
White as our Souls are black, my Traitorous Brother,  
And wicked self by false Armena's help,  
Mixed a Lethargic potion for the Queen,  
And Ithocles; and in the operation  
Of the cursed sleeping Drugg, we laid 'em senseless,  
Clasped Arm in Arm, all Artifice and delusion,  
To rob you of your peace, and her her life.  Men. 
Thou cack'ling, craven slave.  [Draws and runs at him, is seized by the Guards] King. 
Disarm the Traitor,  
Go on my dying Penitent.  Org. 
Alas!  
I cannot more, Armena's murdered Ghost  
Raises a sullen fame from nights dark coast,  [Diet.] 
My sense grows dim, and in a mist I'm lost.  King. 
Ha! dead!  
Is the stupendious tale of horror done?  
And dost thou Monster live to heat it?  Men. 
Yes,  
And doubly damned I did not live to act it.  King. 
Thou art a Traitor of so black a die—  
But haste, unbind the Guiltless Ithocles,  
Bid him come down to meet a Flood of Honour;  
The Acclamations of an Echoing Kingdom,  
And the Rewards of a repenting King.  [Ex. an Attendant.] 
But for thee Monster.  [To Menaphon.] Men. 
Call yourself that Monster,  
For such I'd made you, had my Plot succeeded;  
But since the proud Semanthe's scorn has given me  
That stroke of Fate, that all her bolts beyond it,  
Will prove but edgless Plagues, I dare thy worst;  
Know I defy at once both Hell and thee.  King. 
Damnation, was there ever Dungeon, Jail  
Or Gibbet that could match this hardened Infidel,  
But do I talk and let the Villain live,  
Away with him,  
And his own snare, be his own fate, the doom  
Of Ithocles see executed instantly  
On that Infernal slave, but yet thou devil  
So Grand, thou'rt fitter to be Lucifer's  
Tormenter than he thine, repent and save,  
If possible, thy bloated Soul;  Men. 
Repent! a Scull which has for Ages lain i'th' Earth,  
Shall sooner Pray than I. I do Repent  
I've missed my ends; for had that piece of Pride,  
Ended her hated Life, in scorching flames  
I would have borne the hottest plagues of Hell,  
Rattled the Chains of my Internal Goal,  
As Peals of Joy that I had left thee here,  
With greater torments than I felt below.  
Have smiled to think on thy distracted Soul,  
And laughed when all the damned besides did howl.  [Exit Men. Guarded. King. 
Most hideous Villain,  
Was slighted Lust than  
The lighting Firebrand to this Hellish Train.  [Enter Queen attended 
Ha! by my wrongs that Injured Beauty lives!  
My Joys like rustling Winds locked up in Caves,  
Do bustle for a Vent. Oh! to my breast,  
Yet Closer, Closer thou dear banished Peace,  
Torrents of Ecstasies, transporting Joys.  
But oh! Divinest Innocence, is there  
That Beam of mercy in th' Immortal Treasury,  
As can forgive my faults?  Queen. 
Name 'em no more;  
My Joy, to find you know my Innocence,  
Makes me forget that I was ever wronged;  
Nay, had I did 't had pleased my murdered Ghost,  
To see my virtue to the World Proclaimed.  [Enter Marcelia. King. 
But see, Marcelia! Oh what Recompense  
Is there in Nature for the wrongs I've done thee?  Mar. 
Most Royal Sir, there is a Recompense,  
Would Cancel all the Injuries was done  
To me, and to th' unhappy Ithocles.  Queen. 
I know thy meaning, and I hope Marcelia,  
The King will not deny his free Consent.  [Enter Ithocles Attended. Mel. 
[Aside.] I fear her meaning tends to my destruction.  King. 
Oh thou bright worthy!  
Come to my Arms; my Arms; Oh no, that Circle  
Is too Unhallowed to Enfold such Goodness.  
No let me first deserve t' embrace thee, take  
This fair Atonement for the wrongs I've done thee.  Itho. 
Oh my Exalted bliss!  [Gives him Marcelia.] Mel. 
And my Confusion.  [aside.] 
Remember Sir the Promise of a King,  
It was to me you gave Marcelia.  King. 
Ah!  
Take heed bold man, croak that loathed sound no more.  
I have rewarded Virtue, and crowned Love;  
And if before, to my unprincely shame,  
I promised aught to wrong this faithful Pair,  
Perhaps that guilty Promise drew down Heaven against me?  
And 'tis just I have appeased  
The wrath of that black Sin.  Mar. 
No, Meleander.  
Pursue not hopeless Love, nor tempt the frown  
Of Heaven by cherishing a lawless Fire;  
No, take this worthier and kinder Beauty,  [gives him Statilia. 
No more Lattinius, but the fair Statilia.  Omn. 
Statilia!  Itho. 
Ha! my Sister.  Stat. 
Yes my Brother.  
The same unhappy Maid—  Mar. 
Transformed by Love;  
But take her to your Arms and hide her Blushes,  
She's Love that can deserve you, though I want it  King. 
Brother and Friend, [for he that weds our Favour  
In fair Statilia, I must call him both]  
Accept this Present from my hand,  [giving Stat. Queen. 
And mine,  
To bind the Royal Seal.  Mel. 
My Heart heaves up, and struggles in my Breast,  
When I but look on fair Marcelia's Face,  
But she is lost to me, for ever lost;  
And one more kind there is that seeks my Love,  
I will no more pursue a hopeless Game,  
But fix my Heart on her that has deserved it.  [aside. 
Oh! on my knees Statilia let me beg  [to her. 
A Pardon for the Injuries I've done thee;  
Accept a Heart that now is all thy own.  [Enter Mr. Harris.] The Scene drawn discovers Men. Executed, being flung from a Battlement upon Spikes. Bass. 
According to your Majesty's Command,  
The Traitor Menaphon received his doom.  King. 
Behold Semanthe, the cursed Instrument  
Of all our Woes.  Queen. 
Remove the dismal sight—  [the Scene shuts. 
He was a Villain, and a cruel one  
Yet I could freely have forgiven him.  King. 
Thou beauteous Miracle of woman kind,  
Let all the Kingdom share my mighty Joy!  
Brother, Marcelia, Ithocles, Statilia,  
Was ever man redeemed like me from ruin,  
O what a Precipice have we escaped!  
How near we all were to the Gulf of Ruin,  
Till thou, blessed Soul, brought us this Halcyon Gale.  Lat. 
The great Reward does far exceed my hopes.  [Aside. King. 
Oh! give me leave,  
As one, that wearied with the Toil at Sea,  
And now on wished for Shore has fixed his feet,  
He looks about, and glad's his Thoughts and Eyes  
With sight o'th' green clothed ground and leafy Trees:  
So let me gaze again on those dear Eyes,  
Nothing but kisses to thy Lips discourse.  
Oh! My Semanthe, to my Arms return,  
Where loves rekindling Fire shall brighter burn,  
Whilst all the wrongs to Beauty so Divine,  
Shall be but foils to make the Diamond shine.  [Exeunt omnes.   

EPILOGUE.  Writ by Mr. Mountsort, Spoken by Mrs. Butler in Man's Apparel. 
OUR Scribbler could not find a better way,  
Then singling me a Champion for his Play,  
My Manhood and his Wit are much at one,  
The want of both in us are too well known;  
Excuse him, 'tis his Trial, just such another,  
As some poor under-witted elder Brother,  
Whose hasty Father did young Bride Beleaguer,  
And got the Honeymoon weak Brat too eager,  
Faith Gentlemen be kind to his first born,  
I may perhaps do you as good a turn;  
Be not too harsh you Critics of the Pit,  
To damn his Play would look like spite, not wit,  
" See't but three days, and fill the House the last,  
" He shall not trouble you again in haste;  
" Besides, each Creditor he has is here,  
" And if your Actions seem to him severe,  
" They'll bring all theirs against him, that they swear;  
" Ladies, on you his chiefest hopes rely,  
" Your Goodness may command their Courtesy,  
" None dare oppose whatever you esteem,  
" If then they're cruel, may you prove so to them,  
" 'Tis Charity, when begged to give relief,  
" If not, we must put on with Irish Brief,  
" And as at Church, the Gatherers stand at Door,  
" So ours with Plates shall Cry,  
Pray Remember the Poor.  
These Lines were spoken the third day, in the Room of the last thirteen Lines.  
He thanks the goodness of his this days Friends,  
You've filled the House, and he has gained his ends.  
FINIS.