KING EDGAR AND ALFREDA. A Tragicomedy, Acted at the Theatre-Royal. Written By EDWARD RAVENSCROFT, Gent.  Illud quod medium est atque inter utrumque probamus. Mart. 
LONDON, Printed for M. Turner near Turn-Style in Holbourn. M.DC.LXXVII.   

READER,  
INstead of a Preface, I will only treat you with the Life of Edgar, as I find it in our English Chronicles; No Romance Affords more variety in so few words; and the pleasure of reading it will recompense the trouble.   

The LIFE of EDGAR, King of the West Saxons.  
EDgar, by his Brother's death, became King of all England at Sixteen Years of age; but his Coronation when, and where, and by whom; is uncertain. Some say he was Crowned at Kingston upon Thames by Otho Archbishop of Canterbury, in the First Year of his Reign; others say not till the Twelfth; and William of Malmsbury not till the Thirtieth. Another Chronicle saith in his Eleventh year, and that in the City of Bath, by the hands of Dunstan, whom he called home out of Flanders, where he lived in Exile. This King had no War all his Reign, yet always well prepared for War; he governed the Kingdom in great Peace, Honour and Prosperity, gaining thence the Surname of Peaceable. The Saxons acknowledged him their sole Sovereign without Division of Provinces and Titles; under him ended the Heptarchy; till then the Land was cantled out into Seven Principalities.  
His Acts were some Virtuous, some Politic, some Just, and some Pious, and some with a mixture of Vice; but those related to Women.  
His Care and Wisdom was great in guarding the Coast round with Ships, to the Number of Three thousand six hundred, which he divided into Four Squadrons to sail to and fro about the Four Quarters of the Land, meeting each other. Thus he kept out wisely the Force of Strangers, prevented Foreign War, and secured the Coasts from Pirates. He would himself sail round his Kingdom once every Summer. In the Winter and Spring time he usually Rode the Circuit as a Judge Itinerant through all his Provinces, to see Justice well administered, and the poor not oppressed; he severely punished his Judges, if he found them corrupted with Bribes.  
To repress Drunkenness which the Danes had brought in, he made a Law, ordaining a size by certain pinns in the Cup, with penalty to any that should presume to drink deeper than the Mark.  
To clear the Land from Wolves which in his days did great annoyance to his Country, he wholly remitted the Tribute imposed on the Princes of Wales by King Athelston, appointing in lieu thereof a certain Number of Wolves yearly to be paid, whereof the Prince of North Wales for his part was to pay Three hundred, which continued for Three years' space, and in the fourth year there was not a Wolf to be found, and so the Tribute ceased.  
Towards the end of his Reign the Welsh-men moved some Rebellion, against whom he went with a Mighty Army, and chastised the Authors; but when his Soldiers had gotten great Spoils, and made prey upon the Innocent Country people, he commanded them to restore it all back again, which if it made some few English angry, it pleased the whole Country of the Welsh, and raised him high in their admiration.  
His Pious Acts were, that he built and re-edifyed seven and forty Monasteries, and meant to have made them up Fifty, but was prevented by Death.  
In his Progress going to Chester, he summoned to his Court there all the Kings that held of him, took homage of them, their names are Kened, King of Scots; Malcolm of Cumberland; Maccuse of the Isles; Five of Wales, Duffnall, Howell, Griffith, Iago, judethil. These he had in such awe, that going one day into a Galley he caused them to take each man an Oar and row him down the River Dee, whilst himself sat at the Stern, saying, That his Successors might then glory to be Kings of England, when they had such Honour done them.  
The same Year he gave to Kened the Scottish King many Rich Presents, and the whole Country of Lawdian or Lothien, to hold of him on condition, That he and his Successors should repair to the English Court at high Festivals when the King sat Crowned; gave him also many Lodging places by the way, which till the days of Henry the Second, were still held by the Kings of Scotland.  
He was of Stature not tall, of body slender, yet so well made, that in strength he chose to contend with such as were thought strongest, and disliked nothing more, then that they should spare him for Respect or fear to hurt him. Kened King of Scots then in the Court of Edgar; sitting one day at Table, was heard to say jestingly among his Servants, He wondered how so many Provinces could be held in subjection by such a little dapper man. His words were brought to the King's Ear, he sends for Kened as about some private business, and in talk drawing him forth to a secret place, produceth two Swords, gave one of them to Kened, And now, saith he, it shall be tried; which ought to be the Subject; for it is shameful for a King to boast at Table, and shrink in Fight. Kened abashed demanded his pardon for what he had simply spoken and no way intended in contempt, or to his disparagement, wherewith the King was satisfied.  
His Faults were, that he deflowered a sacred Nunn called Wolsechild, on whom yet he begot a Saint, the Chaste Edyth. After her, he took another Virgin out by force, called Ethelf●ede; where she was placed by her Friends to avoid his pursuit. For her excellent Beauty she was called Ethelfred the White; He kept her as his Concubine, but lived not obstinately in the offence; for sharply reproved by the Archbishop Dunstan, he submitted to seven years' penance.  
Another Story there goes of him, that he chanced to hear of a Virgin, Daughter to a Western Duke, exceedingly praised for Beauty, and coming to Andover, commanded her to his Bed; The Mother not daring flatly to deny, yet abhorring that her Daughter should be so deflowered, brought in the dark her Maid to him dressed in her Daughter's clothes. A Wench it seems not unhandsome nor unwitty, who supplied the place of her Young Lady. In the Morning making haste to rise, daylight scarce yet appearing, was by the King asked Why she made such haste? She answered, To do the Work her Lady had set her, not daring to hazard her displeasure by a longer stay. By which words the King perceived the Deceit, and turned it to a Jest. But so well liked her company, that he kept her with him, advanced her in Honour above her Mistress, and made her take place of her in public; Loved her and accompanied her only till he married Alfreda.  
Alfreda was the only Daughter of Ordgar Duke of Devonshire, Founder of Tavestock Abbey in that County. She was extremely cried up for a Beauty; the King hearing the loud Commendations, sent his Favourite Earl Ethelwold to see her, intending if she were found such as answered report, to demand her in Marriage. The Young Earl at sight of the Lady was so surprised with Love, that he began to court her for himself, and concealing the King's Intentions, got her Father's consent. Hereupon the Earl posted to the King, told him that the Lady was fair indeed, but nothing answerable to the fame that went of her; yet desired the King that he might marry her, as being her Father's Heir, thereby to raise his Fortunes: The King consented, and he took another Journey to consummate the Marriage. Soon after the Fame of her Beauty began to spread more than before; The King began to doubt he had been abused, and to find out the truth, sent the Earl word, that he would come and hunt with him in his Park. Ethelwold fearing the Event, and to cover his deceit from the King's Eyes, acquainted his Wife with the wrong he had done both her and the King, and earnestly requested her to deform herself what she could either in Dress or otherwise, lest the King whose Amorous inclination was not unknown, should chance to be attracted. But she considering, that now was the time to make the most of her Beauty, and longing to be a Queen would not be accessary to her own wrong. Against his coming she used all her Art in Dressing, put on her Richest clothes, and omitted nothing might make her appear charming in his Eyes; which took effect, for the King at first sight was struck with admiration, and in mind resolved to recover his intercepted right, and to punish the Interloper of his destined Spouse: But hid his resentments under a clear brow, appointing, as was usual, a day of Hunting in a Forest now called Harewood, where in the midst of the Sport singling out the Earl, struck him through with a Dart of Javelin. It chanced that the Earl's base Son coming by upon the Fact, the King sternly asked him, How he liked this Game? He submisly replied, That Whatever pleased the King, must not displease him. The King for this Answer took an Affection to the Youth, and ever after highly favoured him, making amends in the Son for what he had done to the Father. Alfreda was not long a Widow; for after this he made her his Queen, who to expiate her former Husband's death, though therein she had no hand, covered the place of his blood shed with a Monastery of Nuns to sing over him.  
This King built the Monastery of Ramsey in Hampshire. He Reigned Sixteen years, Lived Seven and thirty, and with great Funeral Pomp was Buried in the Abbey of Glassenbury.  
These only are his Faults upon Record, rather to be wondered how they were so few, and so soon left, he coming at Sixteen to the Licence of a Sceptre; and that his Virtues were so many, and so mature, he dying before the age wherein Wisdom can in others attain to any ripeness: However, with him died all the Saxon Glory. After him was nothing heard but their Decline and Ruin.  
For the Fact of Ethelwold's Death, this King is Censured by most Historians as Cruel and Tyrannical; but considered well, it may be judged more favourably, and that no Man of sensible spirit, but in his place, without extraordinary Perfection, would have done the like; for next to Life, what worse Treason could have been committed against him? From this last Act of his I draw the Argument of this Play, taking notice of no passage of his Life, but his Love to Alfreda.  
I have introduced new Persons to raise a Plot, and varied from the Chronicle, to better the Character of the King; Knowing that the Critics in Poetry are more Censorious and Severe, than the Historians.  
Several Foreign Authors have writ upon this part of the Story; some have disguised it under borrowed Names, but all of 'em were at a loss when they came towards a conclusion, and have left it imperfect, fearing to blemish the Character of the King: I found it difficult, but hope I have succeeded so well as to make the last Act the best, and the Catastrophe in that point not blameable; the Husband receives his death from another hand, whence it appears just, yet accidental. I have mixed with it a run of Comedy, but not after the manner of our Old Tragicomedies, where one half of the Play are Heroes, and the other Mechanics and Buffoons. The Character of Durzo, I presume is so well judged, that none may count his presence in the Court impertinent or unsuitable to the business of the Place. But I submit all to a free Censure, careless of the Fate of any trifle in this nature.  
Farewell.   

ERRATA.  
PAge 11. line 18. r. Oswo. Come. p. 25. l. 12. f. then will I, r. then I will. p. 36. l. 25. f. Vere off, r. Shear off. p. 143. l. 15. f. to your, r. o'er your.   

PROLOGUE to EDGAR.  
THis Play at least Ten Years ago was writ;  
A time, when th' Author had more Zeal than Wit;  
But pondering on't he found it would not do,  
Without Romantic Love and mighty show.  
And nothing pleased you in those days but Rymes,  
From Four to Seven we daily rung the Chymes▪  
Long did you hear, and long the sound did please,  
But now—  
Ye are surfeited, and Verse grows a Disease,  
Well he forbore, and well has nicked the time,  
If Sense may do that is not shod with Rhyme.  
If Heroes too that are no more than men,  
May be allowed to tread the Stage again,  
If Lovers may be Lovers, yet not by fits  
Rave and discourse like Folks beside their wits.  
But if you'll still have Poets wrack their Brain  
For Sense that shall your Understandings strain—  
To Verse we will return—  
And once more let the Goss-Hawk fancy fly,  
That beats the Air and flutters in the Sky,  
Sports for a while in view, but takes a flight  
On the sudden, and flies clearly out of sight.  
Still there remains the Music of her Heells,  
And all you here's the jingle of her Bells.  
But Humane Actions now in Plays allow,  
And business such as does from Nature slow,  
Let not what's natural be counted Low;  
We have no Rant, no Rapture, nor high flight,  
The Poet makes us Men and Women all to Night,   

The Persons Names.  
Edgar King of the West Saxons. 
By Mr. Mohun.  Ethelwold A Lord and Favourite in Court, 
By Mr, Goodman.  Ruthin An Ambitious designing Lord, Father to the Queen. 
By Mr. Burt.  Aldernald A Young Admiral, Brother to Alfreda. 
By Mr. Clark.  Oswold A Gentleman of the Court, Brother to Hilaria, 
By Mr. Wiltshire.  Durzo. A Blunt Sea Captain. 
By Mr. Grissin.  Courtiers and Guards. 
   

WOMEN.  The Queen 
By Mrs. Knight.  Matilda The Princess. 
By Mrs. Bowtell.  Alfreda Bride to Ethelwold, and Daughter to Ordgare Earl of Devonshire. 
By Mrs. Frances Baker.  Hilaria A Young Lady at Court 
By Mrs. Katherine Baker.  Alicia Confident to the Princess 
By Mrs. Rutter.  Court Ladies and Attendants. 
   The SCENE, Mercia, or Middle England,  

ACT I. SCENE I.  The Curtain drawn up, an Altar is discovered, Aldernald giving Alfreda to Ethelwold in Marriage, an Abbot joining their hands, with Monks attending him. Ruthin looking and smiling. After a while the Scene closes. Then enters Lord Ruthin and a Servant. Scene the Body of the Church. Ruth. 
'TIs done, 'tis done!  
Alfreda is to Ethelwold a Bride.  
Now let the busy tongues of Flatterers  
No more whisper her praises to the King,  
But speak 'em loud, till their enchanting Echoes  
Again reach his ear.  
Now in his love, my Daughter will have no Corrivals  
And when this Marriage is divulged  
I in his favour shall have no Competitors.  
Go find out the common Music of the Town,  
Place 'em in the street, near Ethelwold's Apartment  
Close to the Palace Garden wall.  
Thence will their noise o'er all the Court be heard.  Ser. 
I shall my Lord.  Ruth. 
Give 'em instructions, and let 'em be in readiness.  Ser. 
Yes my Lord.  Ruth. 
This credulous Aldernald will put a stop  
To thy early rising greatness.  
Brave thou art, but young and unexperienced:  
Of thy Friend too confident, of thy King  
Too suspicious, of Honour too jealous.  
But to thee, rash amorous Ethelwold  
That art ensnared by Beauty,  
Enchanted by a face, and in Love besotted,  
To thee it will give a lasting fall.  Enter Aldernald. 
My Lord where is the Bridegroom and your Sister?  Alder. 
I have taken my leave of 'em at present.  
That Company which is coming to their Devotions  
May not suspect what has been done.  
I would not have the King Know of their marriage  
Before the Queen has perfectly recovered her health.  Ruth. 
She has not of three days felt any symptoms  
Of her Fever, she rested well last night:  
I was with her this morning early.  Alder. 
Holds she her last night's resolution  
To venture abroad to day?  Ruth. 
Yes.  
This I count will be her wedding day too.  
For though the Marriage-Rites have been performed▪  
The greatest Ceremony is yet to come.  
Marriages begin at the Altar,  
But in the bed are Consummate.  Alder. 
I have not heard the like accident,  
She sickened at the Altar?  Ruth. 
Yes, at the very instant the Priest joined their hands,  
Her health was so vigorously assailed,  
That the Ceremony was scarce finished  
When she fell into her womens' arms.  Alder. 
Has not the King e'er since been much concerned?  Ruth. 
'T has been a melancholy week with him,  
But her recovery will wipe away  
All sad resentments from his soul.  
You will not long be absent.  Alder. 
I'll but dispatch an express to my Father,  
To let him understand that in your presence  
I have resigned the Charge of my Sister.  
I know the return of his Letters  
Will be fraught with thanks to your Lordship  
For your advice and friendship in this affair.  Ruth. 
I wish he were here himself  
To share the mirth and pleasures of the day.  Alder. 
Age has rendered him unfit for Journeys.  Ruth. 
My Lord I'll to Court before, you'll be there anon?  Alder. 
My appearance will give a surprise  
For my arrival last night was so private  
It cannot yet be known to any.  
I had advice too early this morning  
That the Fleet is coming up the River—  Ruth. 
That's very lucky, we'll meet anon.  Alder. 
My Lord your Servant.  Exeunt severally. Enter Ethelwold and Alfreda, as from the Altar into the Body of the Church. Ethel. 
Till now I shared but Heavens imperfect Bounty,  
Which when it gave thy heart,  
Snatched me from thy embrace,  
Not permitting us as other Lovers  
To repeat our amorous vows:  
But now it gives thee to me for ever.  
And hastens on the happy minute  
Which I have wished, and languished for so long.  
Now is our Fate entirely kind  Alfred. 
Kind indeed to me my Lord, it gives  
What I never yet enjoyed, Liberty.  
No more, now your wife shall I be confined  
To Country solitude, and life obscure.  
No more be debarred the gaieties of Courts,  
The delights of Cities, and public Gallantries,  
Which yet I never knew but by Relation.  Ethel. 
Thy presence from thy Father's Palace  
Had banished solitude and turned it to a Court,  
Though far from any Town or City,  
Yet all around came there to admire  
And to adore thy heavenly form.  Alfred. 
Such as pass for great ones there  
Told me that I was fair and beautiful.  
But men are not more apt to dissemble,  
Then women to believe their flatteries,  
Valuing it from their praises.  
I despised their little Courtships:  
I had a fond opinion this face  
Might not shame the Court, therefore resolved  
That Marriage should transfer me to that Sphere.  Ethel. 
O Pride! thou untaught vice in woman  
That from her very nature tak'st thy being  Alfred. 
When you Lord Ethelwold appeared  
With the many Charms of Court about you,  
Great in your Family and long descent,  
Greater in the favour of your Prince,  
I thought my Pride not much above your Glory  
And therefore taught my heart submission.  Ethel. 
She does confess her Pride.  Aside. 
And with't Ambition too appears,  
To what ills does Love persuade, how fatal  
The fury of an Amorous King will be  
And the Revenge of an Ambitious Woman,  
I'll trace her Ambition yet farther,  
And see how far it goes beyond her Love.  
Suppose a Lady to have two Lovers,  
One her equal, whom with an unbiased  
Affection she esteems:  
Another, less loved by her, but greater much  
In Titles and in Riches then his Rival;  
Which ought she to make her choice?  Alfred. 
It is noble to aspire, and argues a great Soul▪  
Therefore I think Ambition should raise  
Her Love, Love not debase her Pride.  Ethel. 
But to choose where most she loves  
Argues the truest Love.  Alfred. 
But not the wisest.  Ethel. 
Did any thing but Love negotiate for me  
In your thoughts? Love, true Love I mean,  
Sets no regard on wealth or honours.  Alfred. 
Without them I might have loved  
But not married.  Ethel. 
Your beauty alone, made me your Captive,  
And your virtues will make the conquest  
Of your eyes a lasting victory.  Alfred. 
This little Prudence which the World calls Pride,  
Is the best Guard and Ornament to Beauty.  
Yet had it lost its triumph over Love,  
If Love o'er my Soul had not a greater made.  Ethel. 
You so exactly have determined  
That I must praise your judgement.  
And your Love admire—  
How inquisitive I've been to know my Fate,  Aside. 
Which now I have not power to avoid.  
Forewarned I was, yet could not retreat,  
But still pressed forward to my ruin  
Come my divine Alfreda, let us go  
Where we our joys more freely may express,  
To shady walks, where Love has no restraint:  
There sit and look, and from our eyes dart beams  
That in our Souls shall kindle vigorous flames,  
Till both of us grow red with inward fire,  
And both do burn, and glow with one desire:  
There we will sit, and wish away the Light,  
And chide the Day for keeping back the Night.  Exeunt. The King and Queen sleeping in an Arbour hand in hand. Matilda sitting on the other hand of the King awake▪ Alicia playing a soft Air on the Lute, and singing to't. 

SONG.  
How sweet a torment 'tis to love?  
And ah how pleasant is the pain?  
I would not if I could remove  
And now put off the amorous chain.  
Though Chloris eyes do give me Laws.  
And me of liberty beguile  
I like a Martyr love my cause  
And on my fair to mentor smile.   Matt. 
Alicia lay aside thy Lute  
For sleep has robbed them of the sound.  Alic. 
The King asleep.  Mart. 
Sure Souls are near allied to harmony.  
That Music so strangely can affect them▪  
Mine sweetly languished with each dying sound  
And from the pleasing trance as often waked,  
As thy skilful fingers gave bolder touches  
To the strings.  Alic. 
From this relation Madam I may guests  
You are inclined to Melancholy.  
But you are a Princess and in all things happy▪  
And therefore rather than judge that your temper,  
I may with more reason conclude it th'effect  
Of my unskilful Play. For if not melancholy,  
Such ill Music was enough to make you so.  Matt. 
Condemning your skill you wrong my Judgement  
But why inferred you that a Princess could not be melancholy.  Alic. 
A Princess cannot except it be for Love.  Matt. 
Then I am far from it.  Alic. 
You are Madam.  
Your youth and beauty gives you  
A universal Empire over hearts:  
You cannot love in vain, therefore can be  
No melancholy Loyer.  Matt. 
Suppose I loved one that was dead?  Alic. 
O Madam I have a better opinion of your wit  
Then to think you can love any but the living.  Matt. 
Suppose he be absent or in danger?  Alic. 
Then I suppose he would soon be here if he knew it,  
And from ill, your love is Divinity  
Sufficient to defend him,  Matt. 
To put an end to these Arguments,  
Tell me Alicia your opinion of that Picture:  
Is it not an excellent piece of Art?  Alic. 
Admirably well done and rarely handsome,  Matt. 
Sure too handsome for a man.  Alic. 
Here's much of Gallantry in's looks.  
If I may be so bold, pray Madam whose is't?  Matt. 
'Tis no secret,  
'Tis Aldernalds the young Admiral,  
That has done such glorious things at Sea.  Alic. 
Fame speaks his praises loud.  Matt. 
The King my Brother gave it me, and with it  
This Relation of his last great action.  
That in the late Engagement  
He gave such remarks of's valour,  
That the old Admiral by wounds disabled,  
Whilst yet he had life gave him his sword,  
Who took it with a resolution  
To stand in's place a Conqueror or die.  Alic. 
It was a noble resolve.  Matt. 
Then sailing in the midst of his Enemies,  
Grappled with their insulting Admiral,  
Himself the first man that boarded him;  
Made way to that proud Commander,  
And in the crowd of his opposers  
Reached his heart, and soon cleared all the Decks.  Alic. 
He bravely then Revenged his Admiral's fall.  Matt. 
And now Commander of his Enemy's ship,  
With the dead Admiral lying at his foot,  
The great Flag up and all the gaudy Streamers  
Wavering in the air, in triumph sailed  
From the midst of them to his disheartened Fleet,  
Who took such courage at that sight,  
Each Captain strove which first should wonders do:  
And fighting by that brave example,  
Destroyed their foes, and ruined their whole Fleet.  
For this brave service the King confirmed him Admiral,  
And think he's still indebted to his valour.  Alic. 
O how I could love so brave a man!  Matt. 
Thou love him Alicia.  Alic, 
Oh Madam, are you jealous? then I perceive  
You love him.  Matt. 
I love him? I have never seen him.  
Follow me Alicia to the next walk.  Exit. Mat. cum Ali. Queen. 
Ha! he sleeps still.  Enter Ruthin. Ruth. 
The King asleep.  Queen. 
Yes Sir.  Ruth. 
How was his humour this morning.  
Showed he any signs of mirth?  Queen. 
Not extraordinary.  Ruth. 
Was he kind to thee?  Queen. 
Yes Sir.  Ruth. 
But was he fond of thee?  
Was he glad to see thy health restored?  Queen. 
He expressed so much in words.  
But from his looks I guessed  
He had some trouble in his mind,  
Which by his kind expressions he endeavoured  
To conceal from me.  
I believe the Princess observed it too,  
For after some discourse passed betwixt us  
She commanded a Lady to fetch a Lute,  
To play and sing to't to relieve his mind,  
Which she did till the sweetness of the Music  
Deprived him of the pleasure of hearing it.  Ruth. 
He begins to wake  
Retire to the Princess in the next walk  
Till I have had discourse with him  
Concerning business of State—  Exit Queen. King. 
Ha! she's gone.  Ruth. 
The Queen and Princess, Sir, are in the next walk  King. 
Alfreda's gone.  Ruth. 
Alfreda still revels in his thoughts.  King. 
O Ruthin! in my Dream I saw a cloud descend  
Beautiful as if it had passed the blushes  
Of the setting Sun, adorned with streaks of red,  
And little sprays of light, as if some beam  
Had been untwisted into Golden threads  
And through his airy Fleece had shot  
Their trembling lustres.  
Admiring it, and fixed in wonder I thought  
I saw it open, and like Curtains draw.  
Divided thus, O what did I not see?  
I beheld Heaven in its glory. I saw  
A Woman with blushes more beautiful  
And eyes more radiant, an Army of Cupids  
Flew brandishing their Darts above her head,  
As if she came to conquer all mankind  
With love. My heart told me this could be none  
But Alfreda, I called her to my embrace,  
And stretching out my arms to receive her,  
(My eyes which till then never descended  
From the bright glories of her Face) espied  
About her waste a Serpent in Folds,  
Which hissing snatched her from me.  
The clouds, and all this Scene of Beauty vanished.  
With the surprise I started, then waked:  
My Dreams conspire with same t'exalt her Beauty.  
Though my Imaginations err, why should that?  
She is still the favourite of Report  
And Opinions Idol.  Ruth. 
A Glow-worm in the Country is thought as luminous  
As a Star, she is a beauty though homely, where  
No one is fairer than herself.  King. 
In this her picture brought me by the Earl  
I discover something excellent,  
But nothing to admiration.  
The Queen's Beauty much excels.  Ruth. 
When she shined in a firmament alone  
Her beauty was thus magnified by Fame,  
But in the Court-Sphear it appears not  
Of so extraordinary a magnitude.  
Alfreda too, placed in the throng of Beauties,  
And looked on by Court-eyes,  
Would not appear so great a wonder,  Enter Queen, Matilda, Alicia, Oswold at another Door. Oswo. 
Aldernald, the young Admiral is arrived.  King. 
Admit him.  Mat. 
Aldernald arrived?  Oswo. 
Yes Madam.  Enter Aldernald. King. 
Come thou man of honour and of valour:  
Thou early aspirer to fame and virtue:  
Come near, let my arms receive thee,  
As a blessing sent from heaven.  Alder. 
I wish I merited the bounty of your expressions.  King. 
Thou art the wonder of young men.  
Your honours spread with the wide Ocean,  
And your virtues first make you man.  
Matilda, here turn thine eyes,  
This is the man,  
Whose glorious deeds of late have been  
The subject of our discourse and fame:  
This is that brave young warrior,  
I often told thee of with praise and wonder.  Matt. 
Fame is the Mistress of his Soul,  
Whom he does Court with so much gallantry,  
He fills the world with admiration.  Queen. 
He is the glory of the young, & wonder of the old.  Ald. 
My little services are paid with too great acknowledgements,  
And I must blush my merits are no more.  Ruth. 
Yes, you shall have cause to blush anon  
These smiles shall vanish like winter-Sun  Aside. 
And thy Laurels soon wither on thy brow.  King. 
Madam your health makes this a happy day.  
It shall be dedicated to mirth and pleasure,  
And your presence will much increase our joy.  To Alder. Enter Oswold and Durzo. Oswo. 
Look you Sir, there's your Admiral.  Dur. 
Why here's a place a man can't find the way  
In or out with both his eyes open. I can walk  
All about my I rigot in my sleep,  
Fore and aft, upper Deck and lower Deck.  
And return to my Cabin without waking.  Alder. 
Durzo here!  Dur. 
Admiral our Fleet is come into the River▪  
We want your further Orders. Our men  
Are all for coming ashore, they leap  
Over board as if their ships were on fire.  Alder. 
Be uncovered you are in the presence of the King.  King. 
Who is this?  Alder. 
The valiant Durzo:  
One that shared with me the hazards  
And the glories of the last great fight.  Dur. 
Heaven bless the King say I.  Alder. 
A stout Soldier though a blunt Courtier,  
He was born in a ship, and never was  
Five miles on shore in his life;  
He scarce knows any thing of Land affairs  
Beyond a Seaport Town or Haven.  King. 
I like him well, he looks  
As if fighting was his business.  Alder. 
He is yet but Commander of a small ship  
But hopes his merits may advance him.  King. 
I'll think to do it so that he shall own  
To hold part of our favours from our bounty.  Oswo. 
Come Captain, now we'll have you to the Wardrobe.  Dur. 
What place is that? do they fight or drink there?  Oswo. 
'Tis one of his Majesty's Storehouses,  
You must be new rigged Captain,  
The Ladies won't like the smell of pitch and tar.  Dur. 
Not like it, which of 'em won't like it?  
Come Captain, follow me  Exeunt Os. & Dur. Alder. 
So great a beauty have I never seen.  Looking at Matilda. King. 
Thy looks Matilda are not cheerful▪  Mat. 
Mine is but a Copy of that Melancholy  
Which of late like a Cloud hung on your brow.  King. 
That Cloud is now dispersed. Come my Queen, my Friend,  
This day restores peace to my mind.  Mat. 
But here engenders war.  Exeunt. Alic. 
Her unsteady looks  
And the quick changes of her Countenance,  
Betray some alteration in her mind;  
And when she turned away she sighed.  
If from Love it does proceed,  
she'll soon the secrets of her heart Reveal;  
Lovers but seldom can their flames conceal.  Exit.  

ACT II.  Enter Aldernald and Durzo. Alder. 
Durzo hast thou observed the glorious tincture  
The rising Sun spreads o'er the Eastern sky  
When he begins his Circuit?  Dur. 
I have.  Alder. 
And have you not heard tell of Nations  
That fall down to adore its brightness?  Dur. 
Yes, but the more fools they.  Alder. 
They would be so, had They beheld the sight  
That Thou and I have seen to day  
Without forgetting former worship,  
And here pay their Reverence;  
'Twould turn that which we call in them  
Idolatry, to just adoration.  Dur. 
Why what have we seen to day?  Alder. 
A form whose excellent brightness mocks  
The most beauteous shapes that Angels  
Ever were invested with; a form, that would  
Give Verity to Fiction, and make that truth  
Which was related once for wonder.  Dur. 
What mean you Admiral?  Alder. 
I mean the Princess.  Dur. 
She's a woman.  Alder. 
Something sure much finer.  Dur. 
Why Admiral? a woman's the finest thing▪  
I ever saw, except a Canon mounted,  
And a ship under fail, but now I talk  
Of ships, would I were aboard again.  Alder. 
Why Captain?  Dur. 
There I should understand what yosay▪  
As I am a living man, you speak nothing  
But Riddles on land— Why Admiral  
What means this glorious tincture,  
Resplendent Deity, Beauteous Shapes,  
Forms, Angels, and the Devil and all.  
What's all this to the Princess, I am a shark if I can  
Guess at your meaning. 'Sbud I say she's a woman.  Enter Matilda. Alder. 
Behold, all I was talking of appears.  
Observe her perfections, and thy dull sense  
Will be instructed to mend its errors.  
Dost thou not think the sight of her  
Makes thee Immortal?  Dur. 
Immortal! what a rare thing would that be  
For a Soldier?  Alder. 
Oh Durzo, that I might ever  
Gaze upon the glories of that form?  Mat. 
His Form, his Mien, his Looks, how great  
In each, how much of Gallantry I see!  Alder. 
Love in my heart has raised its sacred Altar,  
And there I pay a secret adoration  
To the Divinity of that face.  
That it were permitted  
I might more than Contemplate.  Mat. 
He regards me at distance,  
But moves not nearer; O that he would  Ald. & Matt. advance on the Stage, looking on one another at distance. 
But speak to me t'oblige my stay  Alder. 
O Love!  Matt. 
O my heart!  Alder. 
O Conquering eyes!  Matt. 
O resistless charms!  Alder. 
I'd speak but dare not,  
She's a Princess, and my Love is presumption.  Matt. 
I'd tell him, but must not,  
He's a Subject, and my Love is below me.  Alder. 
O tyrannical Love!  Matt. 
O tyrannical Honour?  Ald. 
My passions more raging.  M. 
My slames more tormenting.  Alder. 
Be silent I cannot,  M. 
To conceal't is impossible.  Alder. 
Madam,  Matt. 
Sir,  Alder. 
O my heart!  Matt. 
O Heaven!  Alder. 
What confusion!  Matt. 
What distraction!  Dur. 
Admiral, what makes you start?  Alder. 
She's unconcerned and minds me not.  Enter Oswold, Alicia and Hilaria. Osw. 
There, Hilaria, is the Captain I told you of.  Hila. 
He looks as rough as a storm.  Osw. 
I'll bring him amongst the Ladies anon.  Alic. 
His Company will be good divertisement.  Dur. 
O here's another crew.  Alder. 
we'll avoid 'em,  Ald. gazing at Mat. and she at him, with Durzo, Osw. Ali. Hil. follow. 
I am not now for Company— Come Durzo  
I turn from glory, and from heaven.  Matt. 
Heart hold thy seat in spite of all his charms,  
The liberty thou strugl'st for is Bondage,  
His conquest will enslave thee— but my eyes  
Are too much thy friends, with the enemy  
They hold Intelligence, but I'll break it off. So  
My heart is once more  Turns away her head laying her right hand on her eyes. Then starts and claps the other on her breast, then both. 
Seated in its Throne  
But had he stayed the field he must have won.  Alic. 
I see Madam the Admiral is gotten into harbour.  Matt. 
Hold Alicia: Trust not thy thoughts to words  
Lest they be heard by others, with care conceal  
This secret, which I had not power to hide.  
Hard Law of Custom to impose restraint  
On minds Impartial Nature ordained free.  
She knew the seeds of Passion which she sowed  
In humane breasts, were in each Sex the same,  
And would with time grow up to equal strength:  
And wisely therefore left our wills  
As unconfined as man's. O Tyrant Custom!  
But more tyrants' men, whose Censures do  
Uphold that power is usurped of thee.  
They blame the Passions we unurged reveal;  
Yet feel the same, but cannot theirs conceal.  Exeunt. Enter King and Aldernald. King. 
I wish Alfreda's form had given report  
Just ground to proclaim her Nature's miracle.  
The Earl by me was sent to view her Beauties.  Alder. 
Heavens! Did he for this call me from the Camp?  
Shall I, ungrateful King, from thy own mouth  Aside. 
Be told how ill thou didst intend to requite  
The service I have done?  King. 
If Ethelwold had confirmed my belief  
That in Alfreda those many graces met  
Fame so loudly has bestowed on her,  
She should have been my Queen.  Alder. 
Your Queen!  King. 
Yes Aldernald, if Love, or that title  
Had charms to win her heart.  
I ever thought thy loyal Family  
Worthy my Alliance, and by this tie  
Designed t'advance its ancient glory.  Alder. 
Indeed Sir, had she been your Queen?  King. 
Yes Aldernald, my Queen— why this wonder?  Alder. 
I cannot Sir but wonder,  
If she should have been your Queen, why she was not.  King. 
Look there, and let all wonder cease.  Gives him two Pictures. 
Not wanting Allies, nor necessitated  
To marry for State-Interest,  
I proposed to indulge my Genius,  
That Beauty should Crown my Nuptials with Love,  
The solid blessing of a married life,  
A blessing Princes but rarely find.  
No Country more than this for Beauty famed;  
My intents concealed, a general Collection  
Of their Pictures that were much renowned  
I procured. Of all that number  
None but that one excelled Alfreda.  Alder. 
This the Queens, it does her beauty Justice.  
This Alfreda's— This my Sister's?  King. 
Yes, is it not like her?  Takes a Picture out of his pocket, shows it the King. Alder. 
I have a piece more exact.  King. 
O what Charms are here!  
How like the Beauty of my morning's dream!  
Alfreda was that Heavenly form, Ethelwold  
Was the Serpent that bore away that Scene of Glory.  Enter Ruthin. 
I have been betrayed.  Ruth. 
Sir, in what?  Gives Ruthin the Pictures. 
There read the Treason, thence guess the Traitor:  
What Music is this so loud?  Music without. Ruth. 
This Music will discover all.  Alder. 
Not all my Lord.  Enter Oswold. King. 
The occasion of this Public joy?  Osw. 
Earl Ethelwold is this morning married,  King. 
And who is his Bride?  Alder. 
My Sister Sir?  King. 
Thy Sister! in Town! and married! this morning!  
And to Ethelwold! when came she?  Alder. 
With me last night.  King. 
What reasons urged this haste?  
And to conceal yourself and her?  Alder. 
To preserve her Honour.  King. 
Her Honour? what danger could attend it?  Alder. 
The Earl sent by you to my Father, declared that  
you designed—  King. 
What?  Alder. 
My Faith's so criminal  
Shame will not let me speak it.  King. 
What said he I designed?  Alder. 
Sir, read it in my blushes,  
Or think the worst and that is it.  King. 
O my apprehensions!  
Speak Aldernald, what was't?  Alder. 
The dishonour of our Family.  King. 
O Impiety!  Ald. 
That you would make her not your Queen, but whore  King. 
O Profanation!  Alder. 
Our hope's not so ambitious to believe  
Our Family merited that Honour:  
With ease gave credit to the other.  King. 
When Fame had made such often repetitions  
Of her Excellencies, you on his single assertion  
Might as justly suspect my Virtue,  
As I her Beauty. If you yet doubt me,  
There's one can witness, my intentions  [Turns to Ruthin. 
To her and to your Family were just.  Alder. 
And he can witness too the Earl's deceit.  
So positively he affirmed this for truth,  
That he believed it too,  
For my Father was guided by his Counsels,  
Which he received by Letters.  King. 
How!  Alder. 
After the Earl returned to Town,  
And had obtained your leave to marry her,  
Being to return again into the Country,  
When upon account of business  
You countermanded his journey,  
We grew suspicious of your intents;  
And than my Lord there, zealous in our service,  
Counselled she should be brought to Town,  
And married here.  King. 
He counsel this?  Alder. 
Wisely concluding, that when you knew  
The Honour of two such Families were concerned,  
'Twould be a prevailing argument  
To alter your Intentions.  King. 
He advised like a Friend— Earl Odgare  
Acted as a Father, you like a Brother:  
'Tis a Virtue to be jealous of our Honour.  Alder. 
But not of our Prince.  King. 
The fault was Ethelwold's,— but I pardon all;  
His Crimes were but Errors of Love,  
Which is the madness of the mind.  
Tell him I'll be his Guest this day at dinner,  
But conceal my knowledge of his Guilt.  
I'd have his mind rest in a confidence  
I think him Innocent. That all his Thoughts  
May be employed to heighten the pleasures  
He this night must ravish from his Bride.  Alder. 
Mercy is the Monarch-Virtue in a Prince,  [Exeunt Ruth. Alder. 
And that is the Ornament of your Soul.  King. 
False Traitor! has Love his Loyalty betrayed?  
Those Eyes must have powerful Charms can draw  
The hearts of Subjects from their Allegiance.  [Exit. Enter Oswold, Durzo. Dur. 
But what do you with these Ladies here?  Osw. 
We Court, Compliment, and Gallant 'em.  Dur. 
What is that Courting 'em?  Osw. 
Sometimes 'tis called making Love to 'em:  
You must have a Mistress if you stay long at Court.  Dur. 
Must I, which of 'em?  Osw. 
Her you like best.  Dur. 
Why I like 'em all.  Osw. 
You must appropriate but one.  Dur. 
I'd have a whole Tier of 'em.  Osw. 
Every man must have his share:  
Make choice of her you think most handsome.  Dur. 
But how may a man know a handsome Woman?  Osw. 
'll'le give you the description of my Mistress  
For a Pattern to choose one by.—  
She has Hair, I know not how to term it;  
Nature affords not a comparison.  Dur. 
I like not That; she's like no body then.  Osw. 
Her Forehead high and fair, eyes black and sparkling,  
They twinkle like the Stars.  Dur. 
They are then Gemini.  Osw. 
Her Brows like Arches  
Cut out of purest Snow, consolidate.  
A Nose exactly to the square of Beauty.  
Her Cheeks plump, not by Art but Nature painted.  
Her mouth little, red Lips, and white Teeth;  
A Pearly Portcullis, with a Ruby Gate.  Dur. 
Ay— that's fine.  Osw. 
A Chin dimpled, but in that little Pitt  
A thousand hearts lie buried.  Dur. 
They are thrown in then as fast as we heave dead  
Men over board in a Sea-fight.  Osw. 
Her neck smooth, fat, white, and soft  
as the Down on Swans.  Dur. 
Ay, That—  Osw. 
Her Breasts, those milky Fountains, snowy Alps,  
Round and not limber, their motions pant  
Beholder's hearts into an Ecstasy.  
No Pride about her but what they swell with,  
They rise and fall like Waves blown up by gentle winds.  Dur. 
O, O, O, feel here.  [Pulls Owald's hand to his breast. Osw. 
Auh your heart beats high:  
We shall have boisterous weather, I perceive it coming.  Dur. 
Ay, my heart begins to leap and play  
Like a Porpice before a Storm.  Osw. 
An Arm, a Hand, small, white, and  
Round; the blood blushing through the fair skin,  
Like a Lawn Veil spread o'er a Bed of Roses.  Dur. 
Me thinks I see this fair Creature;  
Yes and touch her too: Oh how fine it is  
To stroke such Limbs!  Osw. 
Yes, Captain, very fine: Beauty I see will soften  
And polish you.  Dur. 
Your words have painted something more than  
Woman in my fancy.  Osw. 
She is as valiant as fair, a brave Virago:  
She fans her beauty with a Shield, and darts  
A Javelin with as much courage as an Amazon.  Dur. 
Ay That's a Woman.  Osw. 
Take this Picture, 'tis very like her.  
When you see the Lady this resembles,  
Claim her for your Mistress; Love her,  
Court her, Gallant her, and do your best;  
Win her and wear her, that's fair play.  Dur. 
Will you give her me?  Osw. 
Yes, if you can get her.  Dur. 
Why, I can take her up in my Arms  
And run away with her.  Osw. 
And whither will you carry her?  Dur. 
Aboard my Frigate, and he that dares come  
To take her from me there, had as good leap  
Into a blazing Fireship, or kiss Thunder.  Osw. 
But she's no lawful Prize if you take her by force;  
By the Laws of Love you must, as I told you, Court her,  
And win her fairly; you must get her good Will.  Dur. 
I thought I had had her Will when I had her.  
But now I think on't, I have heard a Woman's Will  
Shifts into more Points than the Wind.  
But if she sail under any Point of the Court-Compass,  
I'll hale her in I warrant you.  [Exeunt. Enter Ethelwold, Aldernald. The Scene Ethelwold's Apartment. Ethel. 
May their wishes of Joy  
Convert to Curses on themselves, and every Curse  
Attended with a mischief greater than this  
t'hey've brought on me. O untimely discovery!  Alder. 
This News is much unwelcome to you.  Ethel. 
As Frost is to early Flowers,  
It blasts my new born Joys.  Alder. 
But thou, treacherous Ethelwold, in their  [Aside. 
Bud didst stifle the glories of our Family;  
You are too apprehensive of the consequence.  
He designs his coming as a particular favour;  
His presence will grace your Nuptials.  Ethel. 
I know his temper, and foresee the Event.  Alder. 
He is now married, his Love is engaged,  
But were it not, and was he free,  
To Alfreda it could have no access.  
Her Honour's strongly guarded; she's your Wife,  
If that is not enough, she is yet more,  
My Sister,— her wrongs will call on me  
To own the title of Brother.  Ethel. 
With what temper did he receive the News?  Alder. 
He showed no great surprise,  
For had he been concerned, or should he yet  
Resent the Marriage ill—  Ethel. 
He conceals his Thoughts.  Alder. 
Be confident and cheerful.—  
Suspect of mischief hastens mischief on,  
He fewest dangers meets that doth fear none.  
I must attend him hither—  
O Alfreda, were I but assured  [Aside. 
Thou couldst receive the knowledge of this wrong,  
And thy Ambition not transport Revenge  
To the loss of Honour and Virtue,  
Not the command of Edgar should make me tame.  [Exit Ald. Ethel. 
To dinner, unwelcome Guest!  
I know the dish thy greedy eye will feast on.  
But his Reception shall be with smiles,  
That in my looks he may not read my fears,  
And thence conclude me conscious of a Guilt.  Enter Alfreda. Alfr. 
My Brother tells me the King will be here.  Ethel. 
Yes, Alfreda, the King will be here.  Alfr. 
This Country Dress will shame me;  
I would appear in more Gallantry.  
I'll wear my Jewels.—  Ethel. 
Thy beauty has its native purity,  
With Art not injured, nor with Age impaired,  
Not broke with Surfeits, nor worn with Cares,  
Nor by late Revel decayed, you, Alfreda,  
Want not the ornament of Dress.  Alfr. 
But I am a Bride.  Ethel. 
The Court makes no distinction.  Alfr. 
You look on me, my Lord, with eyes  
Full of Love and Sadness, as if your Breast  
Gave entertainment to some thoughts  
Injurious to the blessings of the Day.  
My Brother's Brow too wore an unwonted frown.  Ethel. 
Did he acquaint you with the Cause?  Alfr. 
No.  Ethel. 
'Tis then a Secret to us both.— But mine  
Proceeds from an apprehension that you  
Will suddenly be angry or unkind.  Alfr. 
This day should know no Grief,—  
What can have power to make me so to you?  Ethel. 
A request I would have you grant,  
And not demand the reason why I ask it.  Alfr. 
Your words a little surprise me,  
For they import some Diffidence.  
Yet you may dismiss your fears,  
Since all I can with honour grant  
You now are privileged to ask.  Ethel. 
Then, to oblige me, instead of adorning,  
Resolve to cloud that bright Orb of Beauty,  
And in a meaner Dress obscure those Beams.  
Let a pale Green-sickness Paint be drawn,  
As a Veil o'er the Roses of thy Cheeks;  
A tawny Die spread o'er thy Neck and Breasts;  
Let the same Art instruct thee to sully  
That excellent whiteness of thy Hands.  Alfr. 
You forget the King will be here.  Ethel. 
No, I had rather he would forget to come.  Alfr. 
You are jealous then, my Lord!  Ethel. 
Not of thee by Heaven, Alfreda.  Alfr. 
This injurious Caution shows you are.  Ethel. 
Of the King I am, for thou art so fair,  
And he so amorous.  Alfr. 
Poor suspicious man, dost thou believe,  
That should my Beauty have Charms to conquer his Heart,  
He can find any to overcome my Virtue.  
Now I perceive the Mark at which you leveled  
Your Discourse this morning. Tho ambition  
Of all Passions, in my Soul has the Ascendant,  
Yet my aspiring thoughts pursue  
The bright Tracts of Honour, and take no slight  
Where Virtue towers not above, your Thoughts.  
When I told you Ambition did guide my Love,  
Were too injurious to conclude,  
It had the conduct of my Virtue too.  Ethel. 
No man less jealous is than I.  Alfr. 
Suck not that Poison in, which would burst out:  
You have already done me Injuries,  
Not to be repaired, and scarce forgiven.  Ethel. 
Let not reproaches add to my sorrows.  
I swear to thee I am not jealous:  
Imagine not this strange Request  
Proceeds from suspicions of your Virtue:  
But grant if possible what I ask,  
Without farther obliging me to declare  
The Reasons that compel me to't.  Alfr. 
No, no, my Lord, you can have no other  
Sentiments in your Soul, nothing but Jealousy  
Has eyes to foresee the future so far off.  Ethel. 
Unkind Alfreda, thou wilt force my tongue  
To an acknowledgement that will destroy  
Thy peace, my guilt made known:  
If thou hast not a noble stock of Courage,  
Thy Thoughts will soon grow mutinous,  
And Passion 'gainst thy Reason will rebel.  Alfr. 
Then to suspect my Virtue there can be  
No greater crime.  Ethel. 
Yes, Alfreda; yet 'tis a crime may be forgiven too,  
Since but from the excess of Love it grew.  Alfr. 
What is't, my Lord?  Ethel. 
I dare not tell thee.  Alfr. 
Dare not?  Ethel. 
No, must not.  Alfr. 
Yes, you must.  Ethel. 
I would not, but I must.  Alfr. 
Come out with it.  Ethel. 
I have loved you too well.  Alfr. 
Is that a Crime?  Ethel. 
I wish it were not;  
And I fear you scarce will thank me for't.  
By the King I was sent to view your Charms.  
If my Tongue had confirmed the report of your Beauty,  
You had been Queen of Mercia, but your Eyes  
Made me a Traitor to my Prince.  
When I had gained an interest in your heart  
To advance my Love, I falsified  
The intentions of my King, I told  
Your Father he designed your dishonour.  Alfr. 
Then at your return to Court  
Degraded my Beauty?—  Ethel. 
I did.  Alfr. 
And this you call Love?  Ethel. 
To incur the King's displeasure—  Alfr. 
Was Treachery.  Ethel. 
To hazard Life and Honour to purchase thee—  Alfr. 
Was folly.  Ethel. 
But does th' excess of Love declare.  Alfr. 
No, it argues self interest, had you loved me  
You had not robbed my Beauty of its Glories,  
And interposed 'twixt me and a Crown.  
You would have been more pleased to have seen me  
Fixed in the Glories of a Throne  
Than confined to your low Embrace.  Ethel. 
Pardon the Treason I have committed,  
And be content to reign absolute  
In the heart of one that truly loves you.  Alfr. 
Had your Love been true it had been generous,  
Then you'd have declared the King's intentions,  
And by this high act of Exemplar Virtue  
Taught me to value your Love above a Crown.  Ethel. 
Love its greatness shows in rash effects:  
That had expressed more Generosity,  
But less Love; if you would prevent my ruin,  
And cherish my affection,  
You must submit to be less beautiful.  
If his eye catch but one limb or feature  
Undisguised, it hastens my confusion,  
Damns his Soul, and ruins Thee.  Alfr. 
The injuries you have done me  
Permit not you should be my Counsellor.  
I will consult my own thoughts, at present  
Expect to know no more than this,—  
What Honour does oblige, I'll do.  Ethel. 
Let Pity in your thoughts have share.  [Exit. Alfr. 
You should first have pitied yourself.  
Bold man! that durst expose his safety  
To the frailty of a Woman's Virtue!  
Could he know, we covet all that's fair,  
That we love to be envied for our Greatness,  
Adored for our State, feared for our Power,  
Flattered in hopes of Rewards and Favours.  
Yet durst he rob me of all these,  
And hope a Refuge in my Virtue?  
Ah too presumptuous man! Thy folly gives  
My virtue too severe a trial.  
Yet I'll give thee a farther Testimony,  
And it shall be as daring, as the proof  
Of thy injurious Love was bold.  
I'll work thy fears to punishment,  
My Looks shall court Enticements, till they've raised  
Thy Jealousy to a despairing height,  
Then will I make a brave Retreat,  
And Greatness, which I seemed to covet, slight,  
And glory in that proud Defeat.  [Exit. 
The End of the Second Act.   

Act the Third.  The King seen at a Banquet, holding Alfreda by one hand, gazing on her Face. Ethelwold, as conversing with Ruthin, but turning his head, and looking Reverse on the King, with an angry jealous Countenance. Aldernald in discourse with Matilda. Durzo and Oswold in discourse with Ladies. 

SONG.  

PHillis do not slight your Prize,  
And scorn my Heart, because your Eyes  
At first did conquer me and win it:  
Nor think mine's not a real flame,  
'Cause it so on a sudden came,  
Burst forth and raged all in a Minute.   

Meaner Beauties by their Arts  
More than their force do conquer hearts,  
And by degrees a flame engender▪  
Small Armies so do Sieges form,  
Whilst Royal Ones take Towns by Storm,  
And bravely force 'em to surrender.   

They but lie in Ambuscade,  
Whilst nobly you a heart invade,  
And conquer it in your first advance.  
Of Victories thus gained by you,  
The Glory's to your Beauty due;  
They their Conquests poorly owe to Chance.    A DANCE. King. 
SHe's wondrous Beautiful.  
Nature in this fair Original has excelled;  
As most great Artists do, in some one Piece,  
All they have done before or after can.  Alfr. 
A King is sure on Earth a God.  
How great, how glorious are his Looks!  King. 
Here I must as on some blessed Vision gaze,  
Where still our Sight enlarges our Desires,  
And greedy to see more, at last we find  
Our Eyes too narrow for the Object,— but still  
Unsatisfied, we look, and look, and thus look on.  Alfr. 
On his Brow sits Majesty enthroned,  
Whilst his Eyes dart Glories round him,  
And from his Form, amazing Greatness flows.  
Thus like the Sun, encircled with his Beams,  
He dazzles with excess of Light.  Ethel. 
His Eyes dart pointed beams at hers,  
And hers repay 'em with their trembling lustres.  
Their Hearts play the Wantons in their Eyes.  
O fatal Interview! I am ruined  
If it longer last—  
Madam, I fear the King is not well.  [To the Queen. Queen. 
Sir, are you not well?  King. 
A strange unusual pain on the sudden  
Has seized my heart.  Ethel. 
How quickly Love takes root!  〈◊〉 
Sure I have seen that face before:  
O 'twas in that Picture.  Mat. 
What is the Captain doing?  Osw. 
Making comparisons 'twixt the Shadow  
And the Substance.  
I gave him my Sister's Picture,  
With a description of her to prepare him for Love.  Mat. 
Her Beauty warrants all you could say of it;  
If her Carriage holds, 'twill be a fierce Encounter.  Hill. 
My heart begins to fail me already,  
But I'll huff it out as long as I can.  King. 
Now lead the way to cool Walks, and shady Groves.  
Madam, your Hand, and thine, Alfreda,  
By so much Beauty on every side attended,  
No Prince so happy but would envy my Triumphs.  Queen. 
Hold, Sir, I am not well.  King. 
Ladies, take care of the Queen, be assistant  
To her health.— Come, Alfreda.  [Exeunt omnes praet. Queen, Ladies, and Ruthin. Queen. 
So, I thank you all, my Illness is o'er.  
Ladies, pray retire a while.  
O my dear Father, is this my Nuptial Treatment?  
This my Welcome to a Throne? are these the Joys  
Attend on Crowns! If such they are, who'd sigh to  
Be a Bride, or be ambitious to be a Queen?  Ruth. 
O my Leonora!  Queen. 
Love, the path that leads to Marriage  
Is strewed with Wreaths and Flowers;  
And when at distance we behold a Throne,  
How pleasant is the prospect! and we ascend to  
It by Golden Steps. O cruelty of Nature!  
Oh Tyranny of Fate!  
To lead to pain through such delightful ways,  
And make the Journeys end so differing from the Road.  Ruth. 
Afflict not thyself,  
Let this thought warm thy breast with Joy;  
Though Alfreda usurp his Heart, his Throne  
She cannot, thou art still his Partner there.  
Fate by Death alone can remove thee thence;  
Tho not his Love, thou sharest his Glory.  Queen. 
I willingly would change my Throne for hers,  
In his Heart I would reign—  Ruth. 
Remember thou art a Queen;  
Let this thought inspire a Courage in thee  
To own that Title, and maintain its Rights.  
If as a Wife, Love softens thee to tears,  
Yet be emboldened by thy Quality.  
Exalt thy Looks to awful Greatness  
With haughty Frowns, and an Imperious Brow,  
Check the advance of that bold Invader:  
And with the Grandieur of a Queen  
Dispute the Empire of his Heart.  Queen. 
Tho she retreat, his heart will not return,  
But with the Flames her Eyes have kindled, burn.  Ruth. 
Not fed by her, those Flames not long can live.  Queen. 
But he'll no new ones from these Eyes receive.  
O'er Hearts we can no second Conquest boast,  
A Heart once gone, for ever, ever's lost.  
To me I never more shall see him kind▪  
His Love is as unconstant as the Wind.  Ruth. 
But thence some ground for better hopes I find.  
For Winds that vere from Point to Point so fast,  
Chop round to the same Point they left at last.  
Thy longer absence may injurious prove,  
Freedom and Privacy do nourish Love.  
Join with the Earl to hinder their converse,  
To stop Love's progress cut off all Commerce.  [Exeunt. Enter Aldernald, and Matilda. The Scene, the Garden. Mat. 
That Passion's weak that cannot move the Tongue  
To court the Object, which the Soul affects:  
Or else the Object has no strong attractions.  Alder. 
All that is excellent may justly be attributed  
To her Honour, Beauty, Virtue, and what e'er can enter  
In the perfect composition of a Woman.  Mat. 
Much Commendation does much Love discover;  
O were he not in Love, or else my Lover.  Alder. 
In every limb and feature I read the greatness.  
Of her Soul, a Form so rare and beautiful  
She has, that where I fix my eye, I stand amazed,  
And think my Love would grow Presumption  
If I exceed a silent admiration.  Mat. 
A Gallant man should not his Flame conceal;  
Should you the Sentiments of your Soul reveal,  
Fame, and your own great Deeds would nobly plead  
Your cause, no other Orators you need.  
Were she like me a Princess, nay were't me,  
Were't me you loved; and I as fair as she,  
Tho I perhaps could not accept your flame,  
Yet should your Love less than your Silence blame.  Alder. 
Madam, suppose 'twere you I loved?  Mat. 
That Supposition does my blushes raise,  
Because I know I merit not such praise.  Alder. 
You blame my silence now, because you know  
I love some other, and that 'tis not you.  Mat. 
I wish this truth had not so plain been told,  
But now I think on't, Love may be too bold.  Alder. 
My hopes are dashed again, Joys came so fast  [Aside. 
And thick, I knew they were too great to last.  
In that good mind had she one minute longer stayed,  
My too rash tongue had my presumptuous Love betrayed.  Mat. 
Since I am not the Mistress of his Vows,  [Aside. 
Still may he fear the Secret to disclose.  
But tell me, what your Resolutions are,  
Will you love one, and not your Love declare?  Alder. 
I still must love, but know not what to do;  
I'll not discover't to her.—  Mat. 
Never?  Alder. 
No.  
Never, unless I'm counselled to 't by you.  
This shall be silenced too, this I designed,  [Shows a Letter. 
Because my Tongue durst not, should tell my mind.  Mat. 
To read that Letter what would I not give?  
My Love's grown curious and inquisitive,  
I guess there's much of Passion in your stile.  Alder. 
It is too mean a trifle for your sight.  
Yet if you think it will reward your pains  Mat. 
If it no secret but your love contains.  Alder. 
I have no Secret which from you I'll hide,  
For in my love I chose you for my Guide.  [She takes the Letter, and reads the Super. Mat. 
To your fair Self.—  [Starts. Alder. 
Madam, what makes you start?  Mat. 
To me?  Alder. 
Madam, to her that has my Heart.  Mat. 
That is not I.  [Aside. 
One dull as I am this might well surprise.  Alder. 
When to her hands I'd given this— my Eyes  
Would at first instant the Contents discover,  
She'd in my looks first read I was her Lover.  Mat. 
'Tis true Love cannot be concealed by Art,  
A Lover's Eye reveals a Lover's Heart,  
And gives of Love the first Intelligence.  Alder. 
Then sure I have no Love, or she no Sense.  Mat. 
How dull!  Alder. 
How ignorant!  Mat. 
By Love besotted, he can nothing learn.  Alder. 
That read, she cannot but my Love discern.  
Madam, the King.  Mat. 
Let us remove to the next Walk,  
I'll read it there.  [Exeunt Ald. & Mat. Enter Alfreda and the King. King. 
Alfreda, wert thou a Queen and absolute,  
That in thy breast didst bear a secret flame,  
For some one Gallant and deserving Subject;  
How would you treat the Lady you had raised  
To the high honour of your Confident,  
If perfidiously she should expose  
Her Charms, and by treacherous enticements  
Deprive you of that only man, whom now,  
Tho you can't have, you cannot choose but love.  Alfr. 
Great persons should do great things,— if a Queen,  
My deeds should not receive a lustre  
From that name, but add new Glories to it.  
I would forget the flame, and fault forgive.  King. 
That generous Act would too much encourage  
Subjects to grow bold. Since Ambition  
Is a Passion not less powerful than Love.  
They that dare snatch from your heart a Lover,  
Would from your head a Crown.—  Alfr. 
Crowns admit of a precedent claim,  
But Love, like new-found Land, is theirs  
That first can get possession of it.  
Here, should I punish the Offender's crime,  
'Twould make me guilty of the same.  
For the offence is, not that she loved him,  
But that her Love deprived me of him.  King. 
No, the punishment is not due, because  
She deprived you of your Lover,  
But him of those Glories he with your Love  
Might have enjoyed.  Alfr. 
But since a man in all Estates, not finds  
But makes his Happiness, he may not think  
Her Love has injured him. Then I ought to act  
The Generous Lover, and for the satisfaction  
He enjoys, pardon my Rival's fault, for in her Love  
He meets content, then crowns a greater blessing  King. 
But in your love, this fancied blessing had come  
Attended with the Glories of a Throne.  Alfr. 
Love is a bliss so absolute, and high,  
It no additions does from Accidents receive,  
But like an Infinite, is uncapable  
Of change, to more or less.  
Thus he being in her love nor less happy  
Than in mine, I ought to think him so:  
And thus as a Lover I am always  
Debarred from punishing the Offender.  King. 
You have subtly managed the Argument,  
To show the Excellency of your wit.  
Wit, like a towering Hawk, flies high in Speculative notions,  
Whilst Judgement, like the Hound, pursues his Game,  
And follows Truth upon the level.  
Now, Alfreda, tell me thy real thoughts.  
Do you apprehend you should  
So perfect a Contentment find  
In any Subject's love, not to imagine  
You might more happy in a Monarch's be?  Alfr. 
The flame ascends not more naturally,  
Than to a Throne our Thoughts aspire.  
If free, I think I could not force myself  
To refuse the bright temptations of a Crown:  
But my heart being before engaged,  
As now it is, I cannot, as I am,  
Resolve; but if I were in that condition,  
And the very person, I could, because I should  
Then know my own thoughts.  King. 
Know then, thou art in that condition.  
False Ethelwold snatched thee from my Embrace;  
Now can you resolve the Question?  Alfr. 
Sir, I can.—  
If I had been acquainted with your love,  
It should have been as absolute in my breast,  
As you are in your Kingdoms.  King. 
You strangely bless me, in but discovering  
That you could have loved me▪  Alfr. 
Hold Sir—  
The same temper that had inclined me then  
To have received your flame, permits not now  
I should so much as think I might have been  
More happy, much less declare it.  King. 
If thou art not miserable, I am,  
And though you may not declare it, I must.  Alfr. 
But I must not hear it.  King. 
Hear it, and pity me.  Alfr. 
Pity for a King, is in a Subject's breast Presumption.  King. 
A Duty rather.  Alfr. 
In others it may, but in me 'twould be a Crime.  King. 
Alas, Alfreda, if you are rigorous  
I shall hate Ethelwold: your Pity should,  
Like healing Balm be poured into the wounds he made.  Alfr. 
That Pity would not heal your wounds,  
But make 'em fester, and deeper to my Honour give.  
Tho I may be sorry for his fault,  
I must not be concerned at your Complaints,  
My Honour suffers if I longer stay.  [Turns from the King and meets Ethelwold. Enter Ethelwold. Ethel. 
What, Alfreda, does my coming fright you hence?  Alfr. 
No, nor would your departure much please me.  Ethel. 
I know you had a good Game,  
You had no reason to throw up your Cards.  Alfr. 
Do you play my Hand out,  
And anon tell me, what you are a winner.  [Exit Alfreda. King. 
How much the Remedy she gives to cure,  
Increases my disease.  
While she appears thus charming fair,  
Thus exactly virtuous, and thus truly great,  
With what temper can I bear the loss of her?  
Ethelwold, thou hast robbed me of a Woman,  
So made to be my Queen  
Thou seem'st to have foiled Destiny,  
And prevented Fates disposal of her. Speak,  
Why did you tell me she was not beautiful?  Ethel. 
I judged her Beauty by your Greatness.  
I did not think it merited the honour  
To be placed in so great a Monarch's Throne.  King. 
The world contains not such another Woman.  Ethel. 
If I am guilty, your Opinion is my Crime;  
For Fancy gives beauty its estimate.  King. 
In meaner beauties what you say is true;  
But Alfreda has Excellencies so much  
Above the rest of womankind, that none  
Could behold her matchless Charms, and not know  
She was and is the fairest of her Sex.  
This was the reason why you deprived me of her.  Ethel. 
I requested not Alfreda of you 'cause she was  
Fair, but because I loved her.  King. 
If it be true that you deceived me  
'Cause you loved her, it is also true  
That you loved her 'cause you thought her beautiful.  Ethel. 
I humbly asked your leave to marry her.  King. 
Yes, after thou hadst profaned her beauty,  
And said she had more than her Equals here.  Ethel. 
If Sir, I thought—  King. 
The Thought was Blasphemy, and blacks thy Soul,  
But this was an arch piece of Treachery.  
Look there, then there: two Copies how different,  
Yet from the same Original! This to th' Eye  
Belies, profanes, blasphemes Divinity.  Ethel. 
If, Sir, the Painter erred, must I be blamed?  King. 
For this conspiracy you'll both be damned.  
Traitor, thy Crimes shall not go unpunished.  
Guards there—  [Enter Guards. Ruthin, Queen, Alfreda (from one side,) Aldernald, Matilda, (from the other.) 
Seize that Traitor.  
In Dungeons thou shalt celebrate thy Nuptials.  
Chains shall embrace thee, not Alfredas' arms.  
And that thou may'st even in this life be damned,  
Thou shalt quite be deprived o'th' sight of her.  
Still may her Beauty haunt thy restless mind,  
Despair be the attendant of each thought.  
This Heaven of Beauty in thy hopeless fancy see,  
A Heaven that ne'er shall be possessed, enjoyed, by thee.  Alfr. 
Sir, on my knees—  King. 
Away to prison with him.  Alfr. 
Brother, Madam, my Lord, will no one speak?  Ruth. 
His offence—  King. 
You should be the last should speak.  
You was his Counsellor, and shared his Guilt.  
He was by Love, you by Ambition led;  
You've raised your Daughter to my Throne and Bed.  
But your ambitious ends 'll'le thus destroy,  
She shall my Throne, but not my Bed enjoy.  
Thou to a Crown shalt not be long allied,  
With her ends thy Ambition, and thy Pride.  
Madam—  
To you Respect and Honour I will pay,  
Though not my Heart, you shall my Sceptre sway.  
You in the Grandeur of a Queen shall move,  
Deprived of nothing but the Rights of Love.  
To punish him, those joys must be denied,  [Points at Ruthin. 
But shall by a kind friendship be supplied.  Queen. 
Unhappy Woman, that art made wretched  
To be great!  King. 
The first proof of my friendship this shall be,  
For the Queen's sake enjoy your liberty.  [Exeunt K. Q. Alfr. 
I am resolved the King shall hear me speak.  Alder. 
To Ethelwold I will a visit make,  
And tell him that his cause you undertake.  [Exeunt Ald. and Alfreda severally. Ruth. 
The Watchful Chemist, that with pregnant hopes  
Waits the Return of his long labours,  
And in that minute he expects should give  
Perfection to the precious Elixir,  
Sees the Still's fall, and all the rich Production  
Buried in the ruins, receives not a defeat  
Than this more unexpected.—  
Fortune to th' Wise, and the industrious shows  
Her spite, but unto Fool's success allows.  [Exit. Enter Durzo, Hilaria, Alicia meeting him. Alic. 
O here's your man of War.  Hill. 
Captain, you look as if you were not well.  Dur. 
I am not, I have Wildfire in my veins,  
My blood is a Circulating Flame,  
Hot as the Current of melted Metals,  
That flows from the Entrails of burning Mountains;  
It spouts against the upper Region of my Brain,  
Like a tempestuous Hurricane; I have a red-hot Devil in me.  Alic. 
O Terrible!  Hill. 
Do you know what this strange Disease is?  Dur. 
Know? I know nothing.  
But Nature is at war within me:  
My Brain's reversed, all, all my Senses on the Rack.  Hill. 
We had best begone, he'll beat us presently.  Alic. 
By the description, this should be Love.  Hill. 
Yes Love, Captain, that's the little hot Devil  
You talk of.  Alic. 
He plays mad Reaks, when first he enters a  
Breast, and finds Resistance.  Hill. 
Love, like the small Pox, as any seldom escape it,  
So the longer we live without it, the more  
Dangerous 'tis when it comes.  Enter Oswold. Osw. 
Hilaria, what execution have you done?  Hill. 
I have discharged my upper Teer;  
I have peppered him with small Shot.  Osw. 
How is't, Captain, are you in Love yet?  Hill. 
Yes, yes, he is furiously infected with Love.  Alic. 
But can you tell him how to cure this Disease?  Osw. 
To cure Love, he must look for Love again,  
Bear up close, speak to her, Captain.  Dur. 
I could speak better to the great Guns  
Of an Armada, that answer in leaden syllables,  
Whose Oratory is nothing but fire and noise.  Osw. 
Bear up with the little Pinnace,  
Clap her aboard briskly.  Dur. 
If I was but once Master of her Fore-deck!  Osw. 
That's easy, she's leaky, Captain, she's leaky.  Dur. 
Then she'll founder in the Hold anon.  Osw. 
Come, I'll bring you both to Grappling,  
Get clear of one another as you can.  [Oswold brings them together. Alic. 
Here will be an excellent Scene of Love.  Osw. 
Let us vere off, and give 'em Sea-room.  [Exeunt Osw. Alic. Dur. 
Can you love?  Hill. 
Yes, Captain.  Dur. 
Me? say but that word, and this Sword,  [Draws his Sword. 
If you command, shall unpeople half the World  
To give us and our Progeny Elbow-room.  
Discharge but that word from your mouth,  
And command me to still Tempests, to split Rocks asunder.  
Lady, do but feel the weight on't;  
See, is't not an excellent Blade?  Hill. 
I have no great skill.  Dur. 
Feel, has it not a brave edge, and  
What a point is here!  Hill. 
'Tis dangerous meddling with edg-tools,  
Pray put it up.  Dur. 
Have you any Enemies? if you have  
I'll make their body's Scabbards.  Hill. 
No Captain, put it up.  Dur. 
Will you love me then?  Hill. 
I love not danger, any thing but killing.  Dur. 
Did you ever see one killed?  Hill. 
No.  Dur. 
Heaven, had you been with me in our last  
Engagement, you might have seen a sight, that would have  
Made a Coward in love with death; there you might  
Have seen our Enemies bear up in a half Moon,  
Exposing to our view the terror of their Wooden Castles,  
The mouths of their great Guns, which were made  
To swallow leaden morsels that might lie heavy on  
Their stomachs, till they were disgorged in our faces.  Hill. 
Faugh, faugh.  Dur. 
We with Topsails out, Flags and Streamers  
Flourishing in the Wind, and Trumpets sounding  
Unite our force, then like Thunder fall in amongst 'em:  
There like the Sons of Terror we are seen  
In Clouds of fire and Smoke, Slaughter puts on  
Her Purple Robes.—  Hill. 
Hold, good Captain.  Dur. 
We play at Tennis with Iron Balls, and death comes  
Whizzing by our Ears: Heads take fire in their  
Brain-pans, and burst asunder like Granadoes,  
Scattering the Wildfire of their Brains  
In their Fellow Soldiers faces.  Hill. 
You fright me horribly.  Dur. 
Other heads fly from one Ship with the bullets  
That saluted them, to visit their friends in another.  
Limbs like Langrel-shot, mount scattering in the air,  
And hands that could not reach the Enemy before,  
Now fly into distant Vessels to give their foes a box  
Of the ear; other hands grasping their swords,  
Clear a whole Deck in the slight.  Hill. 
What shall I do?  Dur. 
We are now in a confusion, the Fireships  
Flame, and their halfmoon is divided  
Into blazing Stars.—  Hill. 
Enough, good Captain.  Dur. 
Some bourn, the men leap over board,  
And drown themselves to save their lives,  
Other Ships reel, drunk with the Sea-brine,  
And at last sink to the bottom, to follow  
Those brave men, who fought in 'em  
With as much courage as they drank.  Hil. 
Have you yet done?  Dur. 
The Flags and Streamers—  Hil. 
Yet more?  Dur. 
That hung wantonly playing in the air,  
Now on the Deck lie stained in blood,  
And their tall Masts lie in their Hulls  
As in Coffins. How like you it? is it not brave?  Hil. 
I am almost dead with fear.  Dur. 
I thought you valiant.  Hil. 
Yes, Captain, in Land matters a very Lioness,  
But in Sea-affairs a mere Coward.  
The very Terms are Bullets to me;  
I would not hear such another Relation.  Dur. 
Not hear! Can you fear when I stand by?  
My voice is gentle, but I have something  
That can speak louder to your Enemies,  [Shows a Pistol. 
See—  Hil. 
What's that, a Pistol?  Dur. 
'Tis the Spawn of a Cannon, a little Spit-Devil.  Hil. 
Pray conjure him down again.  Dur. 
Frighted at my voice, you shall hear  
What a brave Language this speaks.  [Fires. 
Sure she'll love me anon.  Enter Oswold, Matilda, Alicia. Osw. 
What warning-piece was that?  Mat. 
Alas, poor Hilaria, how thou trembl'st!  Hill. 
O Madam, the Captain's in his hot Fit,  
And I am in my cold.  Osw. 
What has he done to you?  Hil. 
Frighted me horribly, he has not spoke a word  
But what was terrible as the roaring of Cannons.  Alic. 
The Captain would be a rare Physician to cure  
Ladies of the Ague, if frighting will do't.  Mat. 
What was you doing Captain?  Osw. 
Only saluting his Mistress.  Dur. 
Right, I gave her a Gun, and that's Sea-Courtship.  Alic. 
Your Compliment was very loud.  Mat. 
Hilaria, admit him again into your Service,  
He will forget he is a Soldier, and turn  
Courtier for your sake.  Hil. 
No, let him still retain his valour,  
But not o'reshoot himself in his Compliments,  
And express his Love in such terrible Rhetoric.  Dur. 
I know not how to court you in a Silken phrase,  
But in downright Reality I will do't.  
I am your Friend Starboard and Lar-board.  Hil. 
Then Captain, out with your Sails again;  
Top and Top-gallant you shall be my Lover.  Mat. 
Well performed, Hilaria.  Hil. 
Whilst I my heart under your Conduct steer,  
No coasting Pirate Lovers I, nor Rovers fear.  
The End of the Third Act.   

Act the Fourth. Scene First.  Enter Aldernald and Matilda. Mat. 
THat my Enjoyment might be the greater,  
I deferred the perusal of your Letter  
Till the Court-disturbances were passed.  
Peaceful minute's suit best with Love affairs.  Ald. 
I wish, Madam, you had read it in my absence,  
And prevented my blushes.  [Matilda opens the Letter, and reads. 
I have a Heart that is amorous, but a Tongue  
That is timorous, I would speak but dare not,  
I would be silent but cannot; I am urged by Love,  
Detained by Fear. If I conceal my Flame,  
I torment myself, if I reveal it I offend her I love.  
What is she, Aldernald?  Ald. 
A Princess.  Mat. 
A Princess!  Ald. 
Yes.  Mat. 
A Princess too!  
Then I in vain my hopes of Love pursue.  
What foreign Princess can this be?  Ald. 
Oh ill construction, unlucky evasion!  [Matilda reads again. 
Thus am I doomed by rigorous Destiny  
To be the scorn of Fate, Beauty's Slave,  
And Love's Martyr! It is for her I languish  
That now reads this Paper.—  
It is for her I languish, that now reads this Paper▪  
Oh were that meant to me! how fate conspires  
To indulge my hopes, and flatter my desires!  Aside 
The Invention is pretty, this fully expresses  
Your Love, and is an evidence too of your  
Respect— Your approach is modest, and such  
As I could not blame,  Ald. 
How void of apprehension!  [Aside, 
She cannot, will not understand.  Mat. 
Now, Aldernald, I'll make you my Confident.  
It was my fate once to admit of a flame,  
Yet not unworthy my Breast, if Merit  
May excuse the want of Royal descent.  
For the man I loved, though not born to a Crown,  
Had done Actions deserving one.—  Ald. 
He had more than a Kingdom in your Love.  Mat. 
But he never knew it: I concealed my Flame.  Ald. 
Much more than mine your silence was too blame.  
Monarchs your Love upon their knees would meet,  
And throw themselves and Sceptres at your feet.  
Then what would not the proudest Subject do?  Mat. 
But Modesty forbids our Sex to woo.  Ald. 
Love might have found ways without blame t' impart  
To him you loved the conquest of your heart.  
Against your silence lies a just complaint.  Mat. 
My Birth too on my Love imposed restraint.  Ald. 
What Charms had he could such a Princess move?  Mat. 
Great Actions first disposed my heart to love,  
And then his Picture.—  Ald. 
That's but an empty Shade.  Mat. 
Yet on my heart a strong Impression made.  
But when I saw him, he or felt no flame,  
Or else like you was ignorant and tame.  Ald. 
What do I hear? her heart has been possessed,  [Aside. 
And Love still holds Dominion in her breast;  
She does relate it with so much concern,  
That I no hopes but of my Ruin learn.  
A burning blush still covers all her face.  Mat. 
This stupid man will force me to disgrace.  
I am not well on th' sudden.—  Ald. 
Not well?  Mat. 
Some other time I'll tell you more,—  
Since words will not, let that the mystery clear.  [Exit. [As she goes off, she pulls out a Handkerchief, which draws a Picture out of her Pocket. Ald. 
Ha, what is this?—  
Blessedsight! my Picture here  
It is, at least it much resembles me.  
'Tis mine, if I can judge of what I see.  
How dull have I been, not to apprehend  
I am the man she loved?  
And therefore did my Silence discommend.  
My thoughts are now crowded with things she spoke,  
How each the others meaning has mistook!  
How both by Jealousy have been misled!  
Each shunned th' Approaches which the other made.  
But though she love, and does her Love disclose,  
A Princess cannot of herself dispose.  
And when the King—  Enter Durzo. Durz. 
Admiral! Yes 'tis he; How he stands,  
As if he was but th' appearance of a man!  
I have seen him in the heat of an Engagement,  
In the posture of that Hero Angel,  
That pitched the Devil headlong out of Heaven.  
So ho, who's within?  [Durzo knocks with his hand at Aldernald's breast. Ald. 
Are you here, Captain?  Durz. 
That's a Lover's question right. B'ne let your Eyes  
Answer you: but I thought you had not been at home,  
Your Body looked as if 't had been the forsaken  
Tenement of some great Soul, that stood empty,  
And wanted an Inhabitant. Whirlwinds take  
This Love, it has made a Fool of me too. When  
I am spoken to, I am thinking of Ladies; my  
Wits and Senses are gone a rambling, like Sailors  
Gotten a shore in their Long Boat, and my Body  
Left without motion like their Ship at Anchor.  Ald. 
You had fair warning not to fall in love.  Durz. 
Here's the Devil on't, I know not how it  
Comes about— Well believe me, Admiral,  
Tho Women from the Wast upwards look like  
Angels, there's Witchcraft under their Petticoats.  
And I'll tell you, if a Woman does but fetch  
This long Heave, with the lifting up of her head,  
And the bending in of her back, two little  
Round plump pouting Devils peep from  
Underneath her Gorget, which put such a glowing  
Heat into my veins, that my blood in a moment  
Grows too hot for its channels, and I could  
O'retun a score of 'em.  Ald. 
You are heated at the very thoughts of Women.  Durz. 
Now I am in one of my Fits. Oh Admiral  
That I had but half a dozen Ladies now in my Cabin,  
How I'd rummidg 'em together!  
I'd make 'em smoke again—  Ald. 
Since you are so hot, take a Walk with me  
In the open Air to cool you.  Durz. 
That won't do't; if we were going to engage,  
Perhaps the loss of a Leg, or an Arm, or forty  
Ounces of blood, might something abate my Fever.  Ald. 
Your Distemper has gotten such hold,  
That you must lose a Leg, or an Arm,  
For every handsome Lady you see,  
Or you'll not be thoroughly cured.  Durz. 
Say you so, then I'll endure't still,  
And try what time and chance will do.  [Exeunt. Enter King, and Alfreda. King. 
Have you, Alfreda, considered his crimes,  
And whom he has offended?  Alfr. 
I have considered that your clemency  
In this act, will most brave and Godlike show,  
Because you pardon wrongs done to yourself.  King. 
That for a Lover is too Heroical,  
With less regret I could pardon him  
Had robbed me of a Crown, than thee.  
The King would pardon him, but the Lover cannot.  Alfr. 
Is the Lover than the King less generous?  
Forgive him, Sir, if but to show  
You can be to yourself a King.  King. 
That he durst offend, declared the greatness  
Of his Love; to forgive him will show mine less.  Alfr. 
No, his offences were not proofs of Love,  
But Self-interest; but your forgiveness  
Will be an argument of a generous passion.  
He acted for himself, but you for her you loved.  King. 
How should an ill-living Divine, who preaches  
'Gainst Licentiousness, convert his Hearers,  
When he is himself the greatest Libertine?  
So do thy Words and Actions disagree,  
Whilst you endeavour to make me tame,  
You, Alfreda, act the Tyrant.  Alfr. 
Not I, but Virtue is the Tyrant.  
Virtue directs to keep your Passions  
In severest awe,— to treat 'em like Slaves  
If they rebel, to banish 'em.  King. 
When Love first took possession of my Breast,  
He fortified so fast, and is so strongly seated,  
He will not now be forced to quit his Hold.  Alfr. 
Though not your Love, you may o'ercome your Rage.  King. 
My Anger from my injured Love does rise,  
Till that abates, I cannot this assuage.  Alfr. 
But if from Love you cut off all supplies,  
His strength will weaker grow, his power decay.  King. 
From your bright beauty it receives its force.  Alfr. 
Then from my beauty turn your eyes away.  King. 
But that will not my thoughts from you divorce.  
My fancy still will represent you fair,  
And I in all your Charms shall see you there.  Alfr. 
Though still your fancy does my Form pursue,  
It represents me in a Husband's arms,  
Of me it gives you but a hopeless view:  
Love stripped of hope the heart but gently warms.  King. 
How you a Lover's hopes destroy, beware,  
We are all Rage and Madmen in despair:  
If you would anger from my Soul remove,  
Say something that is kind, and speak of Love.  
Treat me as you would do a froward Child,  
Sooth me till I'm by flattery beguiled.  Alfr. 
Whilst Ethelwold in Prison you detain,  
To 'scape the censures of th' misjudging Crowd,  
I even that common freedom must refrain,  
Which is to all the Court besides allowed.  
I must reserved and sullen now appear,  
Or every gazing eye, and harkening ear,  
Will take false measures of my mirth and me.  
My Lord,—  
Already wants no ground for Jealousy.  King. 
Must Liberty, must it to one be given?  
Whose crimes offend beauty, a King, and Heaven.  Alfr. 
Whilst he by your commands remains confined,  
You imprison too the freedom of my mind,  King. 
Command my death, but not his liberty.  Alfr. 
Restoring him you set Alfreda free.  King. 
But freed, what will the fair Alfreda do,  
When she has power to grant, and I must sue.  
Quickly impose on me some lesser task,  
For this you will want power to requite.  Alfr. 
A meaner favour I disdain to ask.  King. 
Meet me then, Alfreda, meet me to night.  
In th' Garden when 'tis dark.  Alfr. 
Meet him? what for?  
I'll meet you, Sir.  King. 
To Ethelwold his Freedom I restore.  
You'll meet?  Alfr. 
I will.— You'll not recall this Grant?  King. 
My Promise firm as Fates Decree shall stand.  
A King's word I gauge.  Alfr. 
If from me you want a Pledge,  
Sir, in assurance take my hand—  Enter Aldernald. King. 
Come, Aldernald, be thou a Witness,  
With what severity I treat myself;  
That robbed of all my happiness, resolve to lose  
The pleasure of Revenge, and neither to complain;  
Nor punish the Offender.  Ald. 
The noblest conquest is o'er ourselves.  King. 
You left me a King, an angry jove,  
Then I held Thunder in my hand,  
Of which Alfreda has disarmed me; now  
Only to myself I am a Tyrant.  
Go,— let Ethelwold have his Enlargement,  
Tell him my after-rage he need not fear,  
My Passions I enslave, and him let loose  
To play the luxurious Wanton, in the yet  
Untasted pleasures of thy fair Sister's love.  Ald. 
'Tis a less glory to conquer Kingdoms,  
Than thus to subdue our Passions.  King. 
Now fair cruel one, let him enjoy thy Love,  
Whilst I in secret mourn my unkind Fate.  
If any Sigh by chance shall reach thy Ear,  
Let it not breed disquiets in you,  
For after this your pity will be vain,  
Nor will I of your cruelty complain.  [Exit King. Alfr. 
So, this hard Task is o'er.  Ald. 
I know not which has most generous been,  
You Alfreda to entreat, or the King  
To grant a Pardon, fot both alike were injured.  Alfr. 
Ethelwold perhaps will make but an ill Return,  
Advise him to correct his jealous temper,  
For Jealousy is the restless worm of the Brain  
As Guilt is of the Conscience,  
Full of causeless fears and apprehensions.  Ald. 
This Act of Virtue will compose his thoughts,  
And wipe away his fears,— but  
Remit the management of this to me,  
I'll undertake to cure his Jealousy.  [Exit. Alfr. 
I am run into a Labyrinth of dangers,  
And know not which way to escape:  
The Queen is suspicious, the King amorous,  
My Husband jealous.— To gain him Liberty,  
I have engaged to meet the King to night:  
If I do not, I fear his anger will relapse;  
If I do, I expose my Honour.—  
Unfortunate state! I have no Guide,  
No Counsellor if I err.— Malicious Fortune  
Has so contrived it,— the fault must be all  
My own,— let Heaven, that knows my Innocence,  
Take care of it.  Enter the Queen and Ladies. 
The Queen brings anger in her brow:  
I'll stand the shock.—  Queen. 
Ladies, why do you follow me?  
Why do you press on my Retirement?  1 Lady. 
Madam, you are melancholy,  
We hope our company may divert it.  Queen. 
Why this care of me? why to me so kind?  2 Lad. 
It is our duty, Madam.  Queen. 
Your duty, to whom?  2 Lady. 
To you, Madam.  Queen. 
Why, who am I?  1 Lad. 
You are the Queen, Madam.  Queen. 
The Queen? how you all mistake?  
There is the Queen, you misplace your Service;  
Go attend on her, that is the Queen.  
You seem not to believe me—  
Doth not the whole Court bow to her?  
Do they not in Crowds follow her?  
What State, what Train have I? who follows me  
Except yourselves? Foolish Virgins,  
There make your Court!  Alfr. 
She is much troubled in mind, and her discontent  
Reflects on me with great severity.  Queen. 
Go, be Attendants there; blessed with her influence  
You'll pass through merry Spheres, she'll conduct you  
To Courts of State, and Palaces of delight,  
Where Kings shall make Love, and Princes court you;  
Where all the year is spent in Balls, Masques, Treats,  
And your whole lives in pleasures melt away.  Alfr. 
My Soul, stand firm to generous Resolutions.  
It is not noble to insult o'er Griefs.  Queen. 
I shall lead you but to silent Grottoes,  
To lonely Walks, and melancholy Groves,  
The Recesses of the Forsaken and Afflicted,  
Places sit only to sigh and mourn in,  
Where rapt in serious contemplation,  
I shall a while forget my sorrows,  
And though I weep, and sigh, not know I do.  Alfr. 
The King's late Resolutions impressed  
These mournful characters so deeply on her heart.  1 Lad. 
Let us still follow her.  [Ex. Queen and Ladies. Alfr. 
I have o'ercome all that was Woman in me.  
Inspired by my injuries, I could severely  
Have retorted,— But that had been too  
Womanish.— The wrongs thou didst were  
In obedience to a Father,— thy Ignorance  
In part excuses the Guilt.  
But here he comes—  Enter Ruthin. 
Whose confederacy was malice and design,  
For he knew the secrets of the King's soul.  
Sir, I have heard the Queen lament,  
And seen her Griefs.  
How soon they're grown to an excess!  Ruth. 
Tides blown by strong winds role in apace,  
And quickly swell above their banks.  
Her sorrow is already next distraction,  
And just breaking o'er the bounds of Reason.  Alfr. 
The expressions of her Discontent were such  
As called my Honour into question,  
And arraigned my Virtue.  Ruth. 
There needs no greater evidence to show  
The sudden discomposure of her mind,  
Than her Doubts of Virtue, that is guarded  
By duty and obedience to a Father:  
By the Glories of a Family,  
None more Noble, none more Ancient;  
By Love and Friendship to a Brother,  
By his acquired Fame and high Renown,  
By Father and Loyalty to a Husband,  
And Conjugal affection.—  Alfr. 
True, my Lord.  Ruth. 
Though urged by Love and Inclination,  
No Lady but would make't her choice  
Rather to sacrifice her life to Virtue,  
And die the Martyr of her Passions,  
Than part with Honour, when the loss of it  
Would taint her whole blood, and entail disgrace  
On two such Great and Noble Families.  Alfr. 
Right my Lord—  Ruth. 
For such a deed the present Age in Songs  
Would celebrate her Shame, and History  
To after-ages bear her memory  
With long Traditions of her Infamy,  
And on her name fix an eternal Blot.  Alfr. 
Through these aggravations I perceive  
Your fears, my Lord; but know, that I have yet  
Than these a stronger Guard, my Virtue.  
Perchance some Lady of a common temper  
Gladly would embrace the fair occasion,  
Grow proud of her interest, and meanly  
Insult o'er you, a Husband, and a Queen,  
And count such Revenge glorious.  
But my Thoughts are more transcendent.  
Ethelwold already owes his life to me.  
My Lord, come with me to the Queen,  
I have something to impart to her and you  
Will ease your minds of half your fears,  
And take away your mean Suspicions.  
If aught I can contribute to her peace  
I'll do it, the Revenge I prosecute  
Shall be to make you all ashamed,  
And blush at your so vulgar apprehensions.  [Exit. Ruth. 
Virtue may protect her, but her absence  
Is th' only remedy against the King's love:  
Be her Absence then decreed, be it,  
The constant subject of my meditation.  [Exit. Enter Oswald and Durzo. Osw. 
But, Captain, you should first have parleyed,  
And demanded satisfaction fairly.  
Did you think to take her heart by storm,  
As men do Towns?  Durz. 
It was more like a Soldier.  Osw. 
But not like a Lover. Love is a gentle Passion—  
Here she comes, you had best steer a new course.  Enter Hilaria. Hill. 
What, in the dumps, Captain?  Osw. 
He's in a contemplation of Love.  Hill. 
Let not such idle thoughts trouble your head,  
I am almost weary on't myself.  Durz. 
Say sou so?  Hill. 
Yes, you and I will be friends for all that:  
Such a trifle as Love shall break no squares.  Durz. 
There's the Devil of Love now.  
Had she been as forward as I am,  
I had been indifferent as she is;  
That is one Experiment I have made in this Voyage.  Hill. 
When Lovers pause, it is a sign Love cools;  
And since you know not what to think on't,  
E'en let us fairly part stakes— I will have  
My heart again, and you shall have yours;  
Thus we'll make a handsome Retreat,  
And so Captain tack about to the next.  Osw. 
A fair proposal.  Durz. 
But by your leave, in the faith of a Soldier,  
'Tis more honourable to stand in to rights,  
Than to make a Tacque, and say and sing  
The Devil's head off.—  
I will judge of Love by the Rules of Honour,  
Therefore sink or swim I'll bear up close with you.  Hill. 
I like a man of resolution well;  
Then give me thy hand, my trusty Tarpolin,  
You shall find me no Flincher neither  [Exeunt. Enter Ethelwold, and Aldernald. Eth. 
Which ought I most to admire,  
The King's high act of Clemency,  
Or Alfreda's unexampled Generosity?  
Revenge had been a milder punishment:  
For conscious of the Injuries I have done,  
I cannot without blushes meet his Pardon,  
Or her Love, and must wear a Shame about me,  
As lasting as the memory of these Favours.  Ald. 
You acknowledge the wrongs done to the King?  Eth. 
With so great a sense of sorrow,  
That were not thy Sister a Heaven of Blessings,  
My Penitence would rob me of future joy.  Ald. 
Nor do you longer doubt my Sister's virtue?  Eth. 
Her Virtue rather makes me doubt,  
That I have sinned beyond repentance,  
Offending so much Innocence.  
Oh that 'twere permitted we might exchange,  
Or could recall our Matrimonial Vows;  
Then would I, to appear grateful,  
Resign my interest in Alfreda  
To the King, and to both be just.  Ald. 
To them you cannot, but to me you may.  Eth. 
The injuries I have done your Family,  
Are too great to be repaired.  Ald. 
They are then too great to be forgiven  
But to the brave, no wrongs can be above  
The satisfaction of the Sword,— That is the  
Justice, That the Requital I demand.  Eth. 
The King and Alfreda are generous Examples;  
Will Aldernald less noble be?  
'Twas in them a more Glorious Act  
To pardon than to punish; but in me  
Forgiveness is dishonourable. I am free  
To call thee to a strict account: thy Lies  
raised thoughts in my breast, which like a Nest  
Of Snakes, shot their poisonous Stings  
At my Prince's Virtue: Thy Falsities  
Fooled me to Actions, which I blush to own.  
Come on, the Valiant ne'er capitulate.  Eth. 
If I appear to want a courage,  
Or my arm but feebly guide my Sword,  
Think 'tis the love I bear thy Sister  
Directs it slowly to the Brother's heart,  
Within me is a Power that takes your part.  [They fight. Enter King Alfreda, and Guards. King. 
Hold, part 'em.  Ald. 
We are prevented.  Alfr. 
Oh my Lord, you bleed!  Eth. 
To my Breast he has added one wound more,  
The Sister's beauty, and the Brother's valour,  
Alike successful prove.  
Against your Eyes is no resistance,  
Against his Sword no defence.  King. 
What, Aldernald, provoked you to this deed?  Ald. 
Sir, has he not offended?  King. 
I sent you to restore his Liberty,  
I had pardoned him.  Ald. 
Yes, Sir, Offences done to yourself,  
Not those he did our Family:  
He ignobly sought my Sister's love,  
With lies and gross inventions abused  
My Father's ears and mine, and drew me in  
To be his property.  
These affronts required my Sword.  King. 
Thy scrupulous Honour has too far engaged thy valour.  Ald. 
In honour I could not less than fight him.  Alfr. 
Brother, your Presumption was too great,  
When you thought yourself concerned to punish,  
Where the King had mercy shown.  Ald. 
Forgiveness is in Kings a mercy, 'cause  
They are above us, and have power to punish;  
But when th' Offended and Offenders equal are,  
Forgiveness looks like want of Courage.  
And if you well consider Circumstances,  
You will find, Alfreda, he had done wrongs,  
Which the Kings Pardon could not wipe away,  
And those concerned the honour of our Family:  
For those no one but I was fit to call him  
To account.  Alfr. 
You mistake, those wrongs were mine,  
Till I had declared them Injuries,  
They were not so to you— to me belonged  
The Prerogative to Revenge, or Pardon:  
Nor could your Love, or Hatred claim in him  
An Interest, but subordinate to mine.  Eth. 
Cease, cease this Generous Strife.  
You, Alfreda, have too obliging been,  
Me you forgave, and will you not your brother?  
His Crime, if it be one to vindicate  
The honour of his Family, was at least necessary.  Alfr. 
He has been too forward, and assumed too much;  
A Sister's Husband cannot be a Brother's Enemy,  
Till she has first declared him so.  Eth. 
I only wish his cause had been less just,  
For I have so offended him, thyself,  
My King, and Heaven, that if my Death  
Could atone for my Offences,  
I'd beg it from this wound;  
For though thou art a Heaven of Blessings,  
The sense of my Guilt in possessing thee  
Is a torment above the joy I have  
To see myself enriched.  King. 
Aldernald, your quarrel must end here,  
Let this be the last resentment of your wrong;  
That Generosity, which so highly you  
Did applaud in me, now imitate.  
If in me Forgiveness was a worthy act,  
'Tis an Example fit for you to follow.  Ald. 
When you command, my obedience  
Wants not to be prompted by Example,  Alfr. 
My Lord, how do you, how do you feel your wound?  Eth. 
I believe it slight,  
But with loss of blood grow faint.  King. 
Lead him off—  
When the Surgeons have searched his wounds,  
Let me, Alfreda, from you be informed  [Guards lead Ethelwold off. 
What their judgements are of the danger.  Alfr. 
Sir I will not fail.  [Exit Aldernald. King. 
To meet to night in the Garden.  Alfr. 
Yes.  King 
At the Grotto?  Alfr. 
Yes, Sir, at the Grotto.  King. 
I have performed my promise.  Alfr. 
I le be as punctual.  King. 
This accident lets you command your liberty.  Alfr. 
Which I'll employ in thanking you for Ethelwold's.  King. 
When 'tis dark I will expect you.  Alfr. 
When 'tis dark, you shall not expect  
But find me there.  [Exit Alfr. King. 
Fly fast you lazy minutes,  
Swift as my Wishes fly,  
And with more nimble wings bear hence the Light.  
Let Day resign its Empire soon,  
And Night set up its black Standard.  
I am impatient, but why am I so?  
What do I hope, design, or what resolve?  
Oh I dare not examine my thoughts,  
They are yet confused and indistinct.  
My Wishes are unformed, my Resolutions  
Not quite born; and yet I think, hope, wish,  
Design, resolve, but what I know not.  
Honour and Love for Victory struggling are,  
And make my breast their present seat of War.  Exit. 
The End of the Fourth Act.   


Act the Fifth. Scene First.  Enter King Ethelwold, Aldernald, Ruthin, Alfreda, and Ladies Attendants. King. 
THis, Alfreda, should have been  
A night of pleasure to you and Ethelwold,  
A night of Ecstasy and Delights;  
But this amorous Conflict must be deferred  
Till Ethelwold recovers his health.  Eth. 
My wound is slight, the Surgeons  
Have declared it so; but with all  
Humble thankfulness I own your care  
Of my health, as an Honour and a Blessing.  King. 
I'd have you meet your Bride in your  
Full strength, in all your vigour.  Alfr. 
Since you have begun to make his health  
Your care; Sir, command him to let it be  
His own chief concern, 〈◊〉 too rashly  
To expose himself abro●.  
The open air, late hours, 〈◊〉 Court-attendance  [Too Eth. 
You should avoid.  Enter Ruthin at distance. Eth. 
Deprived of you, how shall I pass this night  
Without sad thoughts and great inquietude?  
Like one just grasping of his long wished store  
Of wealth, I am snatched back.  King. 
Commit your Lord to my care.  
Good night, Alfreda.  Alfr. 
Good night, my Lord.  Eth. 
Soft and gentle slumbers close your Eyes.  Ald. 
Your Wedding night is yet to come.  [Exit Alfreda and Ladies. Eth. 
How many unexpected accidents, retarda  
Lover's progress, and delay his bliss?  King. 
To divert your thoughts from Melancholy,  
And to give my own mind a Truce from cares,  
We'll pass one hour at Chess,  
You have excellent cunning in that Game;  
I have many nights tried the Experiment,  
And found it 'gainst the minds distempers  
A most prevailing remedy.— Come,  
I know your sleep will be more sound and quiet.  [Exeunt Ald. & Osw. Ruth. 
My Lord all this is design.  
The King and Alfreda have appointed  
A private meeting this night in the Garden,  
Near the Marble Grotto.  Eth. 
O subtlety, O woman Devil!  Ruth. 
Be calm, but circumspect.  
This my friendship obliged me to discover.  Eth. 
I thank you for your intelligence.  Ruth. 
No ceremony, but away.  Eth. 
Woman, woman, what art thou but deceit!  Exit Eth. Ruth. 
I'll keep him thus alarmed, his Jealousy  
May rouse his fury to some desperate act.  
From Court this will induce him to remove her,  
Perhaps he may think Heaven a fit place for her.  [Exit.  

Scene 2d.  Enter Oswald and Durzo. Osw. 
Well met, Captain, how go squares  
Now 'twixt you and your Mistress?  Durz. 
She has sent me a Letter here,  
I wanted you to read it to me.  Osw. 
Cannot you read?  Durz. 
Neither write nor read, 'tis out of my Element:  
The Sea breeds Soldiers, but not Scholars.  Osw. 
You shall hear it then.  Oswald reads the Letter. 
My roaring Boy, I can love no longer at your fierce rate, my heart is sailing under another Convoy; give Chase to a fresh Mistress, I am making all Sail after a new Rigged Gallant, and now bid you defiance, and so a boon Voyage to you, Captain, and Farewell.  
Hilaria.  Durz. 
What, turned Renegade?  Osw. 
Short warning, this.  Durz. 
Steal away like a cowardly Enemy in a dark night.  Enter Hilaria and Alicia, led over the Stage by two Courtiers. Osw. 
See, she's not out of Hemisphere,  
Give her chase, you see how she's manned.  Durz. 
Meer' Hulls of men.  Osw. 
They Tack about again.  Hill. 
How dejected my Lover looks, now I've taken  
Away his Commission!  1 Court. 
Captain, what think you?  Durz. 
Think I.  1 Court. 
Of Love?  Durz. 
As of Folly.  2 Court. 
Is it not a fine Pastime?  Durz. 
Yes for fools.  1 Court. 
What think you of Women?  Durz. 
As of light Sailors.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, he.  Osw. 
That Shot hits you 'twixt wind and water.  Durz. 
Or as of Ships that want Ballast,  
That are tossed about with every Wave,  
And cannot be steered in any true course.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, he.  Durz. 
Do you play with my anger?  
Am I so tame to be laughed at?  
Sure I have seemed more terrible,  
When with this Sword I have lopped off limbs,  
Strewed the Decks with Carcases, turned Fleets  
To floating Hospitals, sent Navies to their Ports  
To cut down Masts, and hew the Timber of their  
Shattered Vessels into wooden Legs and Crutches,  
To underprop the Cripples they brought home.  
Love, hast thou disarmed my Looks of Manhood?  
Phew— with that Gale be gone.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, he.  Durz. 
Are you laughing again? have amongst you Piccaroons.  Osw. 
Hold Captain, what do you mean?  Durz. 
I'll shatter their Tacklin,—  Osw. 
Let 'em go, they are not worth pursuit▪  Hill. 
Come on, bold Captain, if you are for fighting,  
See here your Enemy.  Durz. 
Beauty, that raises storms of Love,  
Allays those of Anger; you the Object,  
I can look myself into a Calm.  Hill. 
Captain, you have a Qualm coming  
O'er your stomach, you are either Sea-sick,  
Or Love-sick still.  Alic. 
Captain, Love is still in Port, he went not out  
With that strong Puff.  Osw. 
No, Love has not yet weighed Anchor.  Hill. 
Captain, if you are not for fighting, let  
Me know what you think of Love in good earnest.  Durz. 
Love is a Sea, a dangerous Sea,  
Where Wind and Tide are still contrary.  
Men are the Barks that venture out,  
Whose ruins still its waves conspire.  Alic. 
But what are women in this Ocean, Captain?  Durz. 
You are Pirates that rob us of our hearts:  
You are Laplanders, that give us a fair wind  
To leave safe Harbours, and when we're out at Sea  
Make it swell to a Tempest to drown us.  
I have out-rid the Storm, thanks to my  
Lusty Vessel, and now being gotten safe into  
Harbour, can look back and say,  
Yonder I had like to have suffered Wreck.  Osw. 
Well said, Captain, you have given the women  
A whole Broadside.  Hill. 
For all that, I see he's but a Freshwater  
Lover yet; now you think yourself past danger,  
You are in greatest peril to be cast away.  
What think you, if that Letter, which raised  
This Tempest, was but a plot to see  
How my Lover could brook a Rival.  Osw. 
What Wind do you call this? By what Point  
Of the Compass will you sail now?  Durz. 
I think I had best tack about again  
And make what hast I can to fall  
In a Stern of her.  Hill. 
That it was so, here's my hand on't.  
Now if you dare put off to Sea again,  
My heart shall run the Risque with yours  
In all adventures.  Alic. 
'Tis very true, this plot was but to try your love.  Durz. 
Why then I'll count myself your Lover still.  
And if the wind hold thus fair for me  
You'll quickly lie by the Lee.  [To Oswold. Osw. 
You are not quite undeceived yet,  
She's not my Mistress but my Sister.  Durz. 
If you are not my Rival, I fear no Reprisal.  Alic. 
You must reckon our two Gallants your Enemies  
No more, their Rival-ship is ended.  Hill. 
They have struck Sail to you:  
You now with Triumph in Love's Ocean steer,  
Calm is the Sea, and from all Pirates clear.  [Exeunt. The Scene opens, and discovers the King and Ethelwold playing at Chess, Courtiers looking on. After a while enter Oswald and Durzo. Osw. 
How stands the Game?  1 Court. 
The Earl won the first,  
But of this the King has th' advantage▪  King. 
Sit down, and play my Game, if this end  
Before my Return, begin another, Oswald.  [Exeunt the King and Oswold. A Courtier sits down to play. After a while Ethelwold rises. Eth. 
x, I'll trust my Game to your management;  
Pray use your skill till my Return.  [Exit. [Another Courtier sits down to play. The Scene shuts upon them.  

[Scene 4th.  Enter the Queen and Alfreda in the Garden. Queen. 
This Secret you have revealed, takes from me  
All suspicions of your Virtue.  
I have not now one jealous thought of you;  
But the King still does, and will love you.  Alfr. 
But after this night I will no more  
Be seen at Court, not that I doubt my Virtue  
Or my Courage; no, Madam, 'tis for your sake  
I go, because I know my absence will with  
More speed and ease restore you to the King's love:  
I would else stand my ground, and my Virtue  
Should from this Trial grow exemplar.  Queen. 
Let the excess of love I bear the King  
Excuse the wrongs my Jealousies have done,  
Which are so much the greater, because  
The Virtue they have offended is so highly eminent.  Alfr. 
That my Honour may not receive a blemish  
From this nights private conference,  
I have entreated your presence in the Garden.  
Assisted by the darkness of the night,  
You may, unperceived by the King,  
Hear our Discourse, and thence know his intents.  Queen. 
My heart is on the sudden much oppressed,  
Something fills my mind with sad presages,  
And makes me grow suspicious of th' event.  Alfr. 
Those thoughts are the dictates of your Melancholy.  Queen. 
I would fain retreat.  Alfr. 
Oh Madam, let me importune your stay,  
To witness for me, if by any chance  
Our meeting be discovered, that nothing past  
Injurious to my Lord, or unworthy  
A Ladies public vindication.  Queen. 
Hark, I heard the Garden-gate clap too.  Alfr. 
He is coming, stand concealed.  [The Queen absconds. Enter the King and Oswold in disguise, with a dark Lantern, and a naked Sword. King. 
Here, expect my Return.  [To Oswold. Alfr. 
Who's there?  [The King advances. King. 
'Tis I, the King, Oh my Alfreda.  
Oh most blessed and happy minute of my life!  Alfr. 
Why are you, Sir, so much rejoiced?  King 
How sweet are stolen minutes in love!  
Of this kind compliance That be the Reward.  [Puts a Casket of jewels into Alfreda's hand. Alfr. 
What is it, Sir?  King. 
A rich Present of Jewels,  
Wealth enough to purchale a Kingdom,  
Or ransom a Captive Monarch.  Alfr. 
To receive so rich a Present from you  
Will surely bring my Honour into question,  
And to my Husband's Jealousies  
Add the censures of the world.  King. 
Take 'em, and with 'em take my heart.  
Take me a King, one that has power  
To authorise and justify his Love,  
One that will be thy Lover and Protector.  Alfr. 
Sir, I have now a Lover, and Protector,  
That has than yours a more unlimited Power.  King. 
Than mine?  Alfr. 
My honour forfeited, your Power can weak  
Defence afford. None to my face perchance  
May dare to call me Strumpet, but in  
Their hearts they'll brand me with that Title,  
And there call you Tyrant. Now I have  
Heaven for my Protector; Heaven, that  
Protects the virtuous, and the innocent.  King. 
Sin repeated, and to a Habit grown,  
Removes us from the state of Virtue,  
But one single act will not destroy  
Thy Innocence.  Alfr. 
For ever it would blot my Soul, and  
Darken my honour.  King. 
The world shall never know it.  Alfr. 
It never shall, for I will never—  King. 
Oh hold—  Alfr. 
What would you Sir?  King. 
Lead me to thy Apartment,  
And there make satisfaction for  
Ethelwold's Crimes. I would have thee  
Give thyself up to me, and love.  Alfr. 
Your discourse is too urging,  
I can no longer bear it.  King. 
Speak lower.  Alfr. 
Let them speak low that speak amiss▪  
I speak what I ought, and fear not to be heard.  King. 
Are you then resolved not to comply?  Alfr. 
From a woman of my quality  
That Question for an Answer merits Silence or Death.  King. 
Comply then, and kill me after.  Alfr. 
No, kill me first, and live in peace; kill me,  
And with my blood quench your unlawful fires.  King. 
Behold a King that languishes,  
A King that courts you with  
His Wealth and State, and to your merits  
Dedicates his Life and Honours.  Alfr. 
Oh King, Here at your feet a wretched woman falls,  
That with her tears and prayers beseeches you,  
That asks for nothing but her Liberty;  
And, except her honour, gives you all,  
And to ransom That, offers her life.  King. 
Without that you give me nothing.  Alfr. 
I give you all I can.  King. 
Your love—  Alfr. 
That is my Husband's Right.  King. 
He is a Traitor, and his life is mine.  Alfr. 
Your Pardon has acquitted him.  King. 
He is still in my power; his Life,  
And your Honour are at my mercy.  Alfr. 
Your word is past and cannot be recalled.  King; 
I am a King, and can do what I please:  
And now, Alfreda, as a King I speak,  
I love, and must enjoy.  Alfr. 
Since as a King you have declared your mind,  
And as Monarch of these Dominions.  
I will return you my Answer,  
As I am a Queen of my own free Will,  
And Mistress of my Affections.  
Your Love from me shall meet with no return:  
If me you love, with hopeless fires you burn.  King. 
I can act too as a King, but in deeds  
You want power to show yourself a Queen:  
See there—  [Gives a sign. Oswald at a distance shows a Light, and a naked Sword. Alfr. 
What means this Sight?  King. 
See there the fate of Traitors,  
Of such Traitors as is Ethelwold.  Alfr. 
What shall I do?  King. 
Besides the fate that threatens him, consider  
You are a Woman, alone, defenceless;  
I have Power, have Followers, and am resolute.  
Retreat not, you are guarded on every side.  Alfr. 
Sir, I request one favour.  King. 
What is't?  Alfr. 
Sir, give me but my choice which to part with,  
My Honour, or my Life.  King. 
Life must not be at your dispose.  
I love, I burn, and must quench my Flame.  Alfr. 
If I consent not, what can you do?  King. 
Force you.  Alfr. 
who values not life, fears not force.  King. 
Force must prevail.  Alfr. 
Then force opposed by force must be  
The remedy. You are resolved to attempt my Honour?  King. 
I am resolved to procure my peace.  Alfr. 
To this than I owe my deliverance  [Pulls out a dagger. 
To this, which my care provided for a refuge.  
Come, begin your assault—  
Come Sir, make your Amorous approaches:  
See, I'm ready to receive your Embraces.  King. 
What art thou doing, my Life?  
Oh Alfreda, what are your intentions?  Alfr. 
Approach not, If you do,  
You press this forward to my heart.  
Tho you'd not grant me my choice which to part with,  
Life or Honour, yet I'll give you your freedom,  
To see me live with honour, or with honour die.  
If, barbarous man, I snatch my life from thee,  
My Honour will eternally be safe.  King. 
Oh cruel one, what do I behold?  Alfr. 
A woman that has courage above her Sex,  
And honour equal to the best.  
You behold a Lady's hand armed against  
Her own soft breast, and ready  
T' encounter Death to 'scape thy Tyranny;  
One that by death will immortalize her Name.  King. 
Unheard of bravery!  Alfr. 
Pause not but away, hence,  
Or this minute is my last.  
Resolve with speed, for I am resolute.  King. 
I would not kill thee, cruel one.  Alfr. 
Be gone then, Sacrilegious man!  King. 
If in despair I part, I die.  Alfr. 
Your longer stay kills me.  King. 
Live, and I'll be gone.  Alfr. 
Be gone, that I may live.  King. 
She has a hardened Virtue, she's brave  
To the last degree.  Alfr. 
If you return, this posture I resume.  King. 
Grant me, Alfreda, one request.  Alfr. 
It must be very small.  King. 
Consent I may leave thee a few minutes,  
And find thee here at my return.  
In my absence think on Ethelwold's Treason,  
Think by his guilt how wretched I am made,  
That some atonement for his crimes should be,  
That for his grant of life thou art indebted.  Alfr. 
I will.  King. 
Love is the sum I ask.  
This night let me be blessed with thy Embraces,  
And after live ever free from importunities.  Alfr. 
Sir?  King. 
A sudden answer cannot be favourable,  
Keep it back till my return; but then  
Let thy first words declare thy Resolution.  Alfr. 
They shall.  Alfreda enters the Grotto. The King goes to Oswold. Oswold appears. King. 
Thy unalterable Resolution.  
Oswald?  Osw. 
Sir.  King. 
She's invincible.  
What other woman could have stood this test?  
Calms delude her not, nor Storm; affright her,  
Go bring Ethelwold into the Garden;  
I'll act it o'er again, let him stand concealed,  
Tell him I do this to give him a proof,  
That his past Suspicions wronged her Virtue,  
And to root out remaining jealousies,  
Find out her Brother too.  [Enter Alicia with Lights. Aldernald and Matilda at a distance. 
What Lights are these?  Alic. 
Go forward with your Lights  
To the Prince's Lodgings.  [Exit Lights. Osw. 
The Princess is going to bed,  
And Aldernald attends her cross the Garden.  King. 
Go quickly, bring Ethelwold here,  
I'll speak to him myself.  [Exit Oswald. Ald. 
Love has the the same dimensions as our Souls;  
It's as impossible that either should admit  
Degrees, as Parts.  Mat, 
Yes, Aldernald, I want no Arguments to convince me  
That a real Lover's flame breaks forth like  
Lightning, in a moment, and at one flash  
Shows all that Heaven inflamed in which it is.  Ald. 
This obliging acknowledgement makes my hopes  
Grow up to confidence, that as you have done me  
An Act of Grace, with circumstances so  
Convincing, to give my Passion Language,  
And to raise my humble thoughts to an  
Aspiring flame; that now you will complete  
My happiness, and let me here receive  
Assurance, that this presumption of my love  
Is not esteemed a Crime.  Mat. 
In my blushes you may read my mind,  
They too officiously betray my heart,  
And like the Flag set up in Towns besieged,  
Give joyful notice of Surrender.  Ald. 
The blessings this minute gives, are greater  
Than all my former life e'er knew.  King. 
Their conference will hold too long.  [The king makes a noise. Mat. 
What noise was that?  Ald. 
I heard some one tread!  Mat. 
Quickly let's shift our ground,  
Or rather quit me here, that we may not  
Be surprised together, and our love from  
Thence discoursed in public.  [The King treads again. Ald. 
The noise is that way, this leads to your Lodgings.  Mat. 
I'll find the way alone.  Ald. 
Let me not lose one step of this pleasant Journey,  
And by the way I'll make you Vows, shall show  
My love of an Immortal birth.  Exeunt Aldernald and Matilda, The King follows them. Enter the Queen and Alfreda. Queen. 
They are gone.  Alfr. 
It was Aldernald's voice.  Queen. 
'Twas he and the Princess, Success attend their  
Vows. But what do you resolve on? the King  
Will soon return.  Alfr. 
I have found the means, he shall meet a kind  
Reception; when he finds me compliant to his love  
he'll be all on fire, and in eager haste  
Hurry me away; I'll speak to him,  
And to all he says return an Answer.  
But when he leads me off I'll step back,  
And into his hand put yours:  
The Night is favourable to our design,  
'Tis very dark; me he shall court,  
But you he must enjoy.  Queen. 
A fainting joy spreads gently o'er my breast,  
But how can that approach my heart  
In the crowd of so many fears?  Ald. 
Madam, be comforted, your Embraces have charms  
Will reinstate you in his love,  
Make him repent his rash unlawful Oath,  
And establish a blessed peace betwixt you.  Queen. 
I fear the deceit will more enrage him.  Alfr. 
It cannot, at least your issue, if it successful  
Prove to that degree, will inherit his Crown.  Queen. 
Hark, I hear a noise in the Garden.  Alfr. 
Be near me, let me hold your hand in mine;  
When I deliver you to his, suffer yourself  
To be led in the dark to my Apartment.  Queen. 
You instruct, and Love persuades me to comply.  Enter Ethelwold. Eth. 
No Whisper yet has reached my Ear,  
They're very still in their Amours.  
Oh they cannot vent their breath for Kisses;  
They are close, close, and silent,  
I am near the place.  Alfr. 
Sir, is it you?  Eth. 
'Tis I.  Alfr. 
I fear my late Repulse has much incensed you,  
That it has armed your Love with Rage,  
And now that you return with fiercer resolutions,  
And more determined to execute your purpose.  
But now with love alone make your approach,  
For since your departure, I have considered  
Your promise, which o'ercomes my obstinacy.  
Pardon me, Sir, for first transgressions  
Are not without great reluctancy.  
From one bred up in the strict Rules of Virtue;  
Honour parts not without strong convulsions,  
As life from men by nature strong and  
Healthful; If this night I yield to your Embraces,  
Will you no more disturb my quiet?  
Shall I not again be urged by you  
To wrong my Honour, and my Lord?  Eth. 
Never.  Alfr. 
Shall your Hate not persecute him,  
Nor your Love me? Shall both then live in peace?  Eth. 
Ever.  Alfr. 
This one thing more, Sir, you must promise,  
Removed from hence to use no more discourse,  
Lest your voice betray my Honour;  
Nor expect any light in my Apartment:  
Let all be done in silence and in darkness,  
Now I have consented I hate the light,  
And should you see my face, you'd find it all confused,  
Let Night conceal my Blushes and my Guilt.  Eth. 
It shall.  Alfreda puts the Queen's hand into his, and changes places. Enter King and Aldernald. King. 
Oswold's not yet returned?  [Ethelwold kisses the Queen's hand, and draws out a Dagger. Ald. 
This may better Ethelwold's opinion  
Of her, it cannot mine.  
What she has already done, is proof enough  
To me, and should be so to him.  Alfr. 
Now, Sir, take my hand, and as you please  
Dispose of me, but take care to preserve my Honour.  Eth. 
I will.  [Pistols the Queen. 
Die, false lascivious Woman.  [She falls. Queen. 
Oh I am killed.  Alfr. 
Oh Murder Treason, Treason Murder!  Ald. 
Treason—  King. 
Guards—  Alfr. 
Treason—  Ald. 
Retire, Sir, I'll stand 'twixt you and danger.  King. 
Lights, lights—  [The King goes off. Ald. 
Who's there? stand.  Eth. 
I will not.  Ald. 
Stand, or die.  Eth. 
Avoid, be gone.  Ald. 
Who e'er thou art thou shalt.  [They fight. Alfr. 
Oh Madam speak! Oh she's dead!  Ald. 
Thy Career is stopped,  [Eth. falls. 
We shall see who thou art,  Alfr. 
I heard Swords clash— Oh my fears!  Ald. 
Who's there?  Alfr. 
A Woman half dead with fear!  Ald. 
Is not that Alfreda's voice?  Alfr. 
Brother!  Ald. 
What's the matter?  Alfr. 
Oh the Queen, the Queen is murdered!  Ald. 
Here then lies the Murderer.  Alfr. 
Oh what have you done! you have killed the King!  Ald. 
The King?  Enter Matilda, Ladies, and Lights at one door. The King, Oswald, Durzo, Courtiers, and Guards, at the other. Osw. 
What Cries are these?  Alfr. 
The Queen is murdered!  Mat. 
Murdered— She's dead!  [Runs to the body. Ald. 
See, the King is safe.  Alfr. 
The Innocent then is fallen by your hand,  
And the guilty Murderer lives,  
Tyrant, Barbarian, Murderer!  King. 
Why this unjust Accusation?  Alfr. 
Me you thought you had murdered,  
But the mistake proves yet more fatal  
Than your Intention; there behold your Queen,  
The best of Women, murdered!  King. 
Murdered, by whom? had he ten thousand lives,  
My revenge should reach 'em all.  Alfr. 
Oh rare Dissembler!  Osw. 
This is my Lord Ethelwold.  Alfr. 
My Husband slain too, Oh Monster, Monster!  
Oh my dear Lord!—  [Runs to embrace Eth. Eth. 
False Woman—  King. 
Whence proceeds all this?  
Who can clear this Riddle?  Eth. 
If any can, quickly let 'em speak  
Before my little breath that's left is spent;  
I would not die in so much ignorance.  Ald. 
Attempting your flight, you  
Fell by my Sword.  [Too Eth. Alfr. 
And the Queen by thy barbarous hand.  [To the King. 
Mistaking her for me, you killed her.  Eth. 
I struck that blow to punish thy Lust  To Alfreda. 
And Falshood.  Alfr. 
Now I find the Fatal error.  
After you left me at the Grotto, Sir.  
To think what Answer I should give your love,  
Which you had urged with so much violence,  
I resolved to feign a kind compliance,  
Thinking it was you that returned,  
I put the Queen into his hand, whom my  
Entreaties had drawn into the Garden,  
And who by my Persuasions there stood ready  
To be lead off in the dark instead of me.  Eth. 
What do I hear?  King. 
You conspired my breach of Vows—  Alfr. 
Them we judged unlawful, we hoped  
Her Embraces might reconcile your love,  
And call home your wandering loose affections.  Eth. 
Oh Innocence! What Expiation can I make!  Alfr. 
Live, live my Lord.  Eth. 
My Death's ascertained, and the time draws nigh,  
Oh had I died this truth unrevealed,  
The joys of Heaven could not have made me blessed.  King. 
I grieve the Tragical Event,  
Here are some can witness my Innocence:  
I came to make a trial of thy Virtue,  
And if I found it absolute, to send for  
Thy Husband, and thy Brother  
In their hearing, to act the Scene o'er again.  
In Ethelwold's breast I was sure  
The lees of Jealousy were yet remaining.  
When I retired, 'twas not with expectation  
Or desire that thou shouldst change thy mind,  
But to accomplish that Design. Oswald I sent  
To call thy Husband, where I thought  
I had fixed him, and in the interim  
I declared thus much to you, Aldernald.  Ald. 
You did▪ Sir.  King. 
But how came Ethelwold to the unlucky  
And untimely knowledge of our meeting.  Eth. 
My Lord Ruthin discovered that to me.  Alfr. 
And I to him.  Eth. 
His Discovery wakened my Jealousy.  King. 
And of all this mischief is the cause.  Ruth. 
How strangely Fate baffles humane Reason  
In all designs man's Prudence frames,  
And where our Wisdom most labours for success!  
Let's us our greatest disappointments meet.  Eth. 
Give me thy hand, Alfreda,  
That e'er I am deprived of the Glory,  
I may dispose of what I could not merit.  
With my last breath, Sir, I bequeath her to You;  
Accept the Legacy,— I resign her,  
As dying Penitents restore illgotten Wealth.  King. 
Thy Penitence to Heaven is not more grateful  
Than this Gift to me!  Eth. 
The Fatal minute crowds on apace.  
If in my death, Alfreda, you permit  
I retain an Interest in you, Love the King,  
For I am Thine no more—  Alfr. 
Ah my Lord!  King. 
Cursed Instrument, here behold the end  [To Ruthin. 
Of all thy Polices! Here see the painted bubble of Ambition  
Broken, and all thy Hopes dashed to air!  Ruth. 
Nothing remains in the world I value now:  
In a Cloister I'll spend the remainder of my life,  
Where I'll thank Heaven, which timely lets me see  
How fruitless and how vain are Earthly hopes.  Alfr. 
Ah Sir, he's dead, no Sigh nor breath remains!  King. 
Alfreda, weep not.  
Each precious drop that falls from your bright eyes,  
Will raise in me an envy of his death.  Alfr. 
I Know your heart does feel a tenderness.  King. 
His and the Queen's death I grieve;  
But Fate's hand was in't, and Justice  
Seemed to strike the blow.  
Forbear thy tears, and now only remember  
Thou art his Legacy.  Alfr. 
To requite that Generous act, I ask Supplies  
To found a Monastery o'er the place of his Interment.  King. 
'Tis granted. This more I'll do to merit thee.  
Blush not, Matilda, nor wonder, Alderlnald,  King takes Ald. and Matilda's hands, and joins 'em. 
If uniting thus your hands, I reveal  
The Secrets of your hearts.  
Love of your Souls has a strict union made,  
And Vows, which Heaven records, have sealed it.  
This I learned to night from your discourse,  
Whilst here in the Garden I stood concealed.  
Take her, brave young man.  Ald. 
Here I possess what does transport,  
And lead my Soul to an Elysium.  King. 
Now, Alfreda, to my Throne ascend,  
Bright as the Constellation that shined  
At thy Nativity, and cast its glorious Influence on thee.  Alfr. 
One Month I dedicate to Virgin-Widdowhood,  
Sir, the rest of my whole life to you.  
Captain, why stand you single, are  
Not you a Lover too?  Durz. 
Yes, and this is the very thing I love.  Durzo. 
To reward your merit, and promote  
Your Love, we make you our Rear-Admiral.  Mat. 
Hilaria, you must now strike sail to him.  Hill. 
Madam, did not your Example encourage me,  
I durst not give my heart to a Soldier.  Durz. 
I thank your Grace, now I'll board her to rights.  Hill. 
Now, Captain, we are sailing out of the Haven  
Of Love, into the tempestuous Sea of Matrimony.  King. 
You must a while forget Wars rough Alarms,  
Love does invite you to reap gentler Spoils:  
To you most Kind Fortune the Glory gives  
In these more pleasing Triumphs to advance,  
Whilst she delays my happiness. But when  
Alfreda's month of Widowhood is past,  
Our Solemnities shall raise new joys.  
Then we with Nuptial Rites will consummate  
The yet imperfect bounty of our Fate.  
FINIS.    

EPILOGUE.  
Feign I would ask your judgements of the Play,  
But you employ your Wit still the wrong way.  
You reckon up the Faults though near so small,  
Pass by the Good, and so like none at all.  
You Critics are like Sives, you only show  
The Bran, and let the finest Flower run thro'.  
But do not now impute it for a Crime,  
That we do mention Guns in Edgar's time;  
Nor let the Critic that is deeply read  
In Baker, Stow, and Hollinshead,  
Cry Day me, the Poet is mistaken here,  
For Ethelwold was killed hunting the Deer,  
To these Objections this he bid me say,  
They writ a Chronicle, but he a play.  
Poet's may as they please with Truth make bold,  
And Stories to the best advantage mould.  
How easily might the Remedy have been,  
By altering Names or changing of the Scene?  
Tho not these faults, yet others you'd have found;  
Your Censures give to every play a wound.  
Leave off this finding fault, it spoils Delight;  
Commend what's good t'encourage them that write.  
When ye would pleasure in enjoyment find,  
Who calls his mistress's Defects to mind?  
We'll think upon her Charms, the more to raise  
The Fancy to a Pitch;  
As 'tis in Love, so let it be your rule at Plays.