Fragmenta Aurea.  
A Collection of all THE Incomparable Pieces,  
WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
And published by a Friend to perpetuate his memory.  
Printed by his own Copies.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Sign of the Prince's Arms in St Paul's Churchyard MDCXLVI.   


Obijt anno  
Aetatis suae 28.  

SUCKLIN whose numbers could invite  
Alike to wonder and delight  
And with new spirit did inspire  
The Thespian Scene and Delphic Lyre;  
Is thus expressed in either part  
Above the humble reach of art;  
Drawn by the Pencil here you find  
His Form, by his own Pen his mind.   
W. Martial fecit.    

To the READER.  
WHile Sucklins' name is in the forehead of this Book, these Poems can want no preparation: It had been a prejudice to Posterity they should have slept longer, and an injury to his own ashes. They that conversed with him alive, and truly, (under which notion I comprehend only knowing Gentlemen, his soul being transcendent, and incommunicable to others, but by reflection) will honour these posthume Idaea's of their friend: And if any have lived in so much darkness, as not to have known so great an Ornament of our Age, by looking upon these Remains with Civility and Understanding, they may timely yet repent, and be forgiven.  
In this Age of Paper-prostitutions, a man may buy the reputation of some Authors into the price of their Volume; but know, the Name that leadeth into this Elysium, is sacred to Art and Honour, and no man that is not excellent in both, is qualified a Competent Judge: For when Knowledge is allowed, yet Education in the Censure of a Gentleman, requires as many descents, as goes to make one; And he that is bold upon his unequal Stock, to traduce this Name, or Learning, will deserve to be condemned again into Ignorance his Original sin, and die in it.  
But I keep back the Ingenuous Reader, by my unworthy Preface: The gate is open, and thy soulé invited to a Garden of ravishing variety, admire his wit, that created these for thy delight, while I withdraw into a shade, and contemplate who must follow.   

POEMS, etc.  
Written by Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
Printed by his own Copy.  
The Lyric Poems were set in Music by Mr. Henry Laws, Gent. of the King's Chapel, and one of His Majesty's Private Music.  
LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Mosely, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1646.   

On New-year's day 1640. To the KING.  

1.  
AWake (great Sir) the Sun shines here,  
Gives all Your Subjects a New-yeer,  
Only we stay till you appear,  
For thus by us Your Power is understood,  
He may make fair days, You must make them good.  
Awake, awake,  
and take  
Such Presents as poor men can make,  
They can add little unto bliss  
who cannot wish.   

2.  
May no ill vapour cloud the sky,  
Bold storms invade the Sovereignty,  
But gales of joy, so fresh, so high;  
That You may think Heaven sent to try this year  
What sail, or burden, a King's mind could bear.  
Awake, awake, etc.   

3.  
May all the discords in Your State  
(Like those in Music we create)  
Be governed at so wise a rate,  
That what would of itself sound harsh, or fright,  
May be so tempered that it may delight.  
Awake, awake, etc.   

4.  
What Conquerors from battles find,  
Or Lovers when their Doves are kind,  
Take up henceforth our Master's mind,  
Make such strange Rapes upon the place, 't may be  
No longer joy there, but an ecstasy.  
Awake, awake, etc.   

5.  
May every pleasure and delight  
That has or does your sense invite  
Double this year, save those o'th' night:  
For such a Marriagebed must know no more  
Than repetition of what was before.  
Awake, awake,  
and take  
Such Presents as poor men can make,  
They can add little unto bliss  
who cannot wish.    

Loving and Beloved.  

1.  
THere never yet was honest man  
That ever drove the trade of love;  
It is impossible, nor can  
Integrity our ends promove:  
For Kings and Lovers are alike in this  
That their chief art in reign dissembling is.   

2.  
Here we are loved, and there we love,  
Good nature now and passion strive  
Which of the two should be above,  
And laws unto the other give.  
So we false fire with art sometimes discover,  
And the true fire with the same art do cover.   

3.  
What Rack can Fancy find so high?  
Here we must Court, and here engage,  
Though in the other place we die.  
Oh! 'tis torture all, and cozenage;  
And which the harder is I cannot tell,  
To hide true love, or make false love look well.   

4.  
Since it is thus, God of desire,  
Give me my honesty again,  
And take thy brands back, and thy fire;  
I'm weary of the State I'm in:  
Since (if the very best should now befall)  
Loves Triumph, must be Honour's Funeral.    


1.  
IF when Don Cupid's dart  
Doth wound a heart,  
we hide our grief  
and shun relief;  
The smart increaseth on that score;  
For wounds unsearched but rankle more.   

2.  
Then if we whine, look pale,  
And tell our tale,  
men are in pain  
for us again;  
So, neither speaking doth become  
The Lover's state, nor being dumb.   

3.  
When this I do descry,  
Then thus think I,  
love is the fart  
of every heart.  
It pains a man when 't is kept close,  
And others doth offend, when 't is let loose.    

A Sessions of the Poets.  

A Session was held the other day,  
And Apollo himself was at it (they say)  
The Laurel that had been so long reserved,  
Was now to be given to him best deserved.   

And  
Therefore the wits of the Town came thither,  
T was strange to see how they flocked together,  
Each strongly confident of his own way,  
Thought to gain the Laurel away that day.   

There Selden, and he sat hard by the chair;  
Weniman not far off, which was very fair;  
Sands with Townsend, for they kept no order;  
Digby and Shillingsworth a little further:   

And  
There was Lucan's Translator too, and he  
That makes God speak so big in's Poetry;  
Selwin and Walter, and Bartlet's both the brothers;  
Jack Vaughan and Porter, and divers others.   

The first that broke silence was good old Ben,  
Prepared before with Canary wine,  
And he told them plainly he deserved the Bays,  
For his were called Works, where others were but Plays.   

And  
Bid them remember how he had purged the Stage  
Of errors, that had lasted many an Age,  
And he hopes they did not think the silent Woman,  
The Fox, and the Alchemist out done by no man.   

Apollo stopped him there, and bade him not go on,  
'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption  
Must carry't; at which Ben turned about,  
And in great choler offered to go out:   

But  
Those that were there thought it not fit  
To discontent so ancient a wit;  
And therefore Apollo called him back again,  
And made him mine host of his own new Inn.   

Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault  
That would not well stand with a Laureate;  
His Muse was hard bound, and th'issue of's brain  
Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain.   

And  
All that were present there did agree,  
A Laureate Muse should be easy and free,  
Yet sure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that his Grace  
Consider'd he was well he had a Cupbearers place.   

Will. Davenant ashamed of a foolish mischance  
That he had got lately travelling in France,  
Modestly hoped the handsomeness of's Muse  
Might any deformity about him excuse.   

And  
Surely the Company would have been content,  
If they could have found any Precedent;  
But in all their Records either in Verse or Prose,  
There was not one Laureate without a nose.   

To Will Bartlet sure all the wits meant well,  
But first they would see how his snow would sell:  
Will smiled and swore in their judgements they went less,  
That concluded of merit upon success.   

Suddenly taking his place again,  
He gave way to Selwin, who straight stepped in;  
But alas! he had been so lately a wit,  
That Apollo hardly knew him yet.   

Toby Mathews (pox on him) how came he there?  
Was whispering nothing in somebody's ear:  
When he had the honour to be named in Court,  
But Sir, you may thank my Lady Carlisle fort:   

For had not her care furnished you out  
With something of handsome, without all doubt  
You and your sorry Lady Muse had been  
In the number of those that were not let in.   

In haste from the Court two or three came in,  
And they brought letters (forsooth) from the Queen,  
'Twas discreetly done too, for if th'had come  
Without them, th'had scarce been let into the room.   

Suckling next was called, but did not appear,  
But straight one whispered Apollo i'th' ear,  
That of all men living he cared not for't,  
He loved not the Muses so well as his sport;   

And prized black eyes, or a lucky hit  
At bowls, above all the Trophies of wit;  
But Apollo was angry, and publicly said  
'Twere fit that a fine were set upon's head.   

Wat Montague now stood forth to his trial,  
And did not so much as suspect a denial;  
But witty Apollo asked him first of all  
If he understood his own Pastoral.   

For if he could do it, 't would plainly appear  
He understood more than any man there,  
And did merit the Bays above all the rest,  
But the monsieur was modest, and silence confessed.   

During these troubles in the Court was hid  
One that Apollo soon missed, little Cid;  
And having spied him, called him out of the throng,  
And advised him in his ear not to write so strong.   

Murrey was summoned, but 't was urged that he  
Was Chief already of another Company.   

Hales set by himself most gravely did smile  
To see them about nothing keep such a coil;  
Apollo had spied him, but knowing his mind  
Past by, and called Faulkland that sat just behind:   

But  
He was of late so gone with Divinity,  
That he had almost forgot his Poetry,  
Though to say the truth (and Apollo did know it)  
He might have been both his Priest and his Poet.   

At length who but an Alderman did appear,  
At which Will. Davenant began to swear;  
But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigher,  
And when he was mounted a little higher   

Openly declared that the best sign  
Of good store of wit 's to have good store of coin,  
And without a Syllable more or less said,  
He put the Laurel on the Alderman's head.   

At this all the wits were in such a maze  
That for a good while they did nothing but gaze  
One upon another, not a man in the place  
But had discontent writ in great in his face.   

Only the small Poets cleared up again,  
Out of hope as 't was thought of borrowing,  
But sure they were out, for he forfeits his Crown  
When he lends any Poets about the Town.    

Loves World.  

IN each man's heart that doth begin  
To love, there's ever framed within  
A little world, for so I found,  
When first my passion reason drowned.   


Earth,  Instead of Earth unto this frame,  
I had a faith was still the same,  
For to be right it doth behoove  
It be as that, fixed and not move;   

Yet as the Earth may sometime shake  
(For winds shut up will cause a quake)  
So, often jealousy, and fear,  

Sun,  Stolen into mine, cause tremble there.   

My Flora was my Sun, for as  
One Sun, so but one Flora was:  
All other faces borrowed hence  
Their light and grace, as stars do thence.   


Moon  My hopes I call my Moon; for they  
Inconstant still, were at no stay;  
But as my Sun inclined to me,  
Or more or less were sure to be:   

Sometimes it would be full, and then  
Oh! too too soon decrease again;  
eclipsed sometimes, that 't would so fall  
There would appear no hope at all.   


Stars,  My thoughts 'cause infinite they be  
Must be those many Stars we see;  

Fixed Planets.  Of which some wandered at their will,  
But most on her were fixed still.   


Element of fire.  My burning flame and hot desire  
Must be the Element of fire,  
Which hath as yet so secret been  
That it as that was never seen:   

No Kitchen fire, nor eating flame,  
But innocent, hot but in name;  
A fire that's starved when fed, and gone  
When too much fuel is laid on.   

But as it plainly doth appear,  
That fire subsists by being near  
The Moons bright Orb, so I believe  
Ours doth, for hope keeps love alive.   


Air.  My fancy was the Air, most free  
And full of mutability,  
Big with Chimeras, vapours here  
Innumerable hatched as there.   


Sea.  The Sea's my mind, which calm would be  
Were it from winds (my passions) free;  
But out alas! no Sea I find  
Is troubled like a Lover's mind.   

Within it Rocks and Shallows be,  
Despair and fond credulity.   

But in this World it were good reason  
We did distinguish Time and Season;  
Her presence then did make the Day,  
And Night shall come when she's away.   


Winter.  Long absence in far distant place  
Creates the Winter, and the space  
She tarried with me; well I might  

Summer.  Call it my Summer of delight.   

Diversity of weather came  
From what she did, and thence had name;  
Sometimes sh'would smile, that made it fair;  
And when she laughed, the Sun shined clear.   

Sometimes sh'would frown, and sometimes weep,  
So Clouds and Rain their turns do keep;  
Sometimes again sh'would be all ice,  
Extremely cold, extremely nice.   

But soft my Muse, the world is wide,  
And all at once was not descried:  
It may fall out some honest Lover  
The rest hereafter will discover.    

Song.  

WHy so pale and wan fond Lover?  
prithee why so pale?  
Will, when looking well can't move her  
looking ill prevail?  
prithee why so pale?   

Why so dull and mute young sinner?  
prithee why so mute?  
Will▪ when speaking well can't win her,  
saying nothing do't?  
prithee why so mute?   

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,  
this cannot take her;  
If of herself she will not love,  
nothing can make her:  
the devil take her.    

Sonnet. I.  

1.  
Dost see how unregarded now  
that piece of beauty passes?  
There was a time when I did vow  
to that alone;  
but mark the fate of faces;  
That red and white works now no more on me  
Then if it could not charm or I not see.   

2.  
And yet the face continues good,  
and I have still desires,  
Am still the self same flesh and blood,  
as apt to melt  
and suffer from those fires;  
Oh! some kind power unriddle where it lies,  
Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes?   

3.  
She every day her Man does kill,  
and I as often die;  
Neither her power then, nor my will  
can questioned be,  
what is the mystery?  
Sure Beauty's Empires, like to greater States  
Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.    

Sonnet. II.  

1.  
OF thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white  
to make up my delight,  
no odd becoming graces,  
Black eyes, or little know-not-whats, in faces;  
Make me but mad enough, give me good store  
Of Love, for her I Court,  
I ask no more,  
'T is love in love that makes the sport.   

2.  
There's no such thing as that we beauty call,  
it is mere cozenage all;  
for though some long ago  
Likeed certain colours mingled so and so,  
That doth not tie me now from choosing new,  
If I a fancy take  
To black and blue,  
That fancy doth it beauty make.   

3.  
'tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite  
makes eating a delight,  
and if I like one dish  
More than another, that a Pheasant is;  
What in our watches, that in us is found,  
So to the height and nick  
We up be wound,  
No matter by what hand or trick.    

Sonnet III.  

1.  
OH! for some honest Lover's ghost,  
Some kind unbodied post  
Sent from the shades below.  
I strangely long to know  
Whether the nobler Chaplets wear,  
Those that their mistress scorn did bear,  
Or those that were used kindly.   

2.  
For whatsoever they tell us here  
To make those sufferings dear,  
'Twill there I fear be found,  
That to the being crowned,  
T'have loved alone will not suffice,  
Unless we also have been wise,  
And have our Loves enjoyed.   

3.  
What posture can we think him in,  
That here unloved again  
Departs, and's thither gone  
Where each sits by his own?  
Or how can that Elysium be  
Where I my Mistress still must see  
Circled in others Arms?   

4.  
For there the Judges all are just,  
And Sophonisba must  
Be his whom she held dear;  
Not his who loved her here:  
The sweet Philoclea since she died  
Lies by her Pirocles his side,  
Not by Amphialus.   

5.  
Some Bays (perchance) or Myrtle bough  
For difference crowns the brow  
Of those kind souls that were  
The noble Martyrs here;  
And if that be the only odds  
(As who can tell) ye kinder Gods,  
Give me the Woman here.    

To his much honoured, the Lord Lepinton, upon his Translation of Malvezzi his Romulus and Tarquin.  

IT is so rare and new a thing to see  
Aught that belongs to young Nobility  
In print (but their own clothes) that we must praise  
You as we would do those first show the ways  
To Arts or to new Worlds: You have begun;  
Taught travelled youth what'tis it should have done:  
For't has indeed too strong a custom been  
To carry out more wit than we bring in.  
You have done otherwise, brought home (my Lord)  
The choicest things famed Countries do afford▪  
Malvezzi by your means is English grown,  
And speaks our tongue as well now as his own.  
Malvezzi, he: whom 'tis as hard to praise  
To merit, as to imitate his ways.  
He does not show us Rome great suddenly,  
As if the Empire were a Tympany,  
But gives it natural growth, tells how, and why  
The little body grew so large and high.  
Describes each thing so lively, that we are  
Concerned ourselves before we are aware:  
And at the wars they and their neighbours waged,  
Each man is present still, and still engaged.  
Like a good Prospective he strangely brings  
Things distant to us: and in these two Kings  
We see what made greatness. And what 't has been  
Made that greatness contemptible again.  
And all this not tediously derived,  
But like to Worlds in little Maps contrived.  
'Tis he that doth the Roman Dame restore,  
Makes Lucrece chaster for her being whore;  
Gives her a kind Revenge for Tarquin's sin;  
For ravished first, she ravisheth again.  
She says such fine things after't, that we must  
In spite of virtue thank foul Rape and Lust,  
Since't was the cause no woman would have had,  
Though she's of Lucrece side, Tarquin less bad.  
But stay; like one that thinks to bring his friend  
A mile or two, and sees the journey's end,  
I straggle on too far: long graces do  
But keep good stomaches off that would fall too.    

Against Fruition.  

STay here fond youth and ask no more, be wise,  
Knowing too much long since lost Paradise;  
The virtuous joys thou hast, thou wouldst should still  
Last in their pride; and wouldst not take it ill  
If rudely from sweet dreams (and for a toy)  
Tho'wert waked? he wakes himself that does enjoy.   

Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys,  
And while it pleaseth much the palate, cloys;  
Who thinks he shall be happier for that,  
As reasonably might hope he might grow fat  
By eating to a Surfeit, this once past,  
What relishes? even kisses lose their taste.   

Urge not 'tis necessary, alas! we know  
The homeliest thing which mankind does is so;  
The World is of a vast extent we see,  
And must be peopled; Children there must be;  
So must bread too; but since there are enough  
Born to the drudgery, what need we plough?   

Women enjoyed (what e'er before t'have been)  
Are like Romances read, or sights once seen:  
Fruition's dull, and spoils the Play much more  
Than if one read or knew the plot before;  
'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear,  
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.   

And as in Prospects we are there pleased most  
Where something keeps the eye from being lost,  
And leaves us room to guess, so here restraint  
Holds up delight, that with excess would faint.  
They who know all the wealth they have, are poor,  
he's only rich that cannot tell his store.    


1.  
THere never yet was woman made,  
nor shall, but to be cursed;  
And oh! that I (fond I) should first  
of any Lover  
This truth at my own charge to other fools discover.   

2.  
You that have promised to yourselves  
propriety in love,  
Know women's hearts like straws do move,  
and what we call  
Their sympathy, is but love to jet in general,   

3.  
All mankind are alike to them;  
and though we iron find  
That never with a Loadstone joined,  
'tis not the irons fault,  
It is because the loadstone yet was never brought.   

4.  
If where a gentle Bee hath fallen  
and laboured to his power,  
A new succeeds not to that Flower,  
but passes by;  
'Tis to be thought, the gallant elsewhere loads his thigh.   

5.  
For still the flowers ready stand,  
one buzzes round about,  
One lights, one tastes, gets in, gets out  
all, all ways use them,  
Till all their sweets are gone, and all again refuse them.    

Song.  

1.  
NO, no, fair Heretic, it needs must be  
But an ill love in me,  
And worse for thee;  
For were it in my power,  
To love thee now this hour  
More than I did the last;  
I would then so fall  
I might not love at all;  
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,  
Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less.   

2.  
True Love is still the same; the Torrid Zones,  
And those more frigid ones  
It must not know:  
For love grown cold or hot,  
Is lust, or friendship, not  
The thing we have.  
For that's a flame would die  
Held down, or up too high:  
Then think I love more than I can express,  
And would love more could I but love thee less.    

To my Friend Will. Davenant; upon his Poem of Madagascar.  

WHat mighty Princes Poets are? those things  
The great ones stick at, and our very Kings  
Lay down, they venture on; and with great ease,  
Discover, conquer, what, and where they please.  
Some Phlegmatic Sea-Captain, would have stayed  
For money now, or victuals; not have weighed  
Anchor without 'em; Thou (Will) dost not stay  
So much as for a wind, but go'st away,  
Land'st, view'st the Country; fightest, puttest all to rout,  
Before another could be putting out!  
And now the news in Town is; Dav'nants come  
From Madagascar, Fraught with Laurel home;  
And welcome (Will) for the first time, but prithee  
In thy next Voyage, bring the gold too with thee.    

To my Friend Will. Davenant on his other Poems.  

THou hast redeemed us, Wil and future Times  
Shall not account unto the Age's crimes  
Dearth of pure wit: since the great Lord of it  
(Donne) parted hence, no Man has ever writ  
So near him, in's own way: I would commend  
Particulars, but then, how should I end  
Without a Volume? Every line of thine  
Would ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine.    


1.  
LOve, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak  
Three mates to play at barley-break;  
Love, Folly took; and Reason, Fancy;  
And Hate consorts with Pride; so dance they:  
Love coupled last, and so it fell  
That Love and Folly were in hell.   

2.  
They break, and Love would Reason meet,  
But Hate was nimbler on her feet;  
Fancy looks for Pride, and thither  
Hyes, and they two hug together:  
Yet this new coupling still doth tell  
That Love and Folly were in hell.   

3.  
The rest do break again, and Pride  
Hath now got Reason on her side;  
Hate and Fancy meet, and stand  
Untouched by Love in Folly's hand;  
Folly was dull, but Love ran well,  
So Love and Folly were in hell.    

Song.  

1.  
I Prithee spare me, gentle Boy,  
Press me no more for that slight toy,  
That foolish trifle of an heart,  
I swear it will not do its part,  
Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy power and art.   

2.  
For through long custom it has known  
The little secrets, and is grown  
Sullen and wise, will have its will,  
And like old Hawks pursues that still  
That makes least sport, flies only where 't can kill.   

3.  
Some youth that has not made his story,  
Will think perchance the pain's the glory;  
And mannerly sit out Loves Feast;  
I shall be carving of the best,  
Rudely call for the last course 'fore the rest.   

4.  
And oh! when once that course is past,  
How short a time the Feast doth last;  
Men rise away, and scarce say grace,  
Or civilly once thank the face  
That did invite; but seek another place.    

Upon my Lady Carliles walking in Hampton-Court garden.  Dialogue. T. C. I. S. Thom. 

DIdst thou not find the place inspired,  
And flowers as if they had desired  
No other Sun, start from their beds,  
And for a sight steal out their heads?  
Heardst thou not music when she talked?  
And didst not find that as she walked  
She threw rare perfumes all about  
Such as bean▪ blossoms newly out,  
Or chafed spices give?—   J. S. 

I must confess those perfumes (Tom)  
I did not smell; nor found that from  
Her passing by, aught sprung up new,  
The flowers had all their birth from you;  
For I passed o'er the self same walk,  
And did not find one single stalk  
Of any thing that was to bring  
This unknown after after spring.   Thom. 

Dull and insensible, couldst see  
A thing so near a Deity  
Move up and down, and feel no change?   J. S. 

None, and so great, were alike strange,  
I had my Thoughts, but not your way,  
All are not born (Sir) to the Bay;  
Alas! Tom, I am flesh and blood,  
And was consulting how I could  
In spite of masks and hoods descry  
The parts denied unto the eye;  
I was undoing all she wore,  
And had she walked but one turn more,  
Eve in her first state had not been  
More naked, or more plainly seen.   Thom. 

'T was well for thee she left the place,  
There is great danger in that face;  
But hadst thou viewed her leg and thigh,  
And upon that discovery  
Searched after parts that are more dear  
(As Fancy seldom stops so near)  
No time or age had ever seen  
So lost a thing as thou hadst been.    

To Mr. Davenant for Absence.  

WOnder not if I stay not here,  
Hurt Lovers (like to wounded Deer)  
Must shift the place; for standing still  
Leaves too much time to know our ill:  
Where there is a Traitor eye  
That lets in from th'enemy  
All that may supplant an heart,  
'Tis time the Chief should use some Art;  
Who parts the object from the sense,  
Wisely cuts off intelligence.  
O how quickly men must die,  
Should they stand all Love's Battery;  
Persindaes' eyes great mischief do,  
So do we know the Canon too;  
But men are safe at distance still,  
Where they reach not, they cannot kill.  
Love is a fit, and soon is past,  
Ill diet only makes it last;  
Who is still looking, gazing ever,  
Drinks wine i'th' very height o'th' Fever.    

Against Absence.  

MY whining Lover, what needs all  
These vows of life Monastical?  
Despairs, retirements, jealousies,  
And subtle sealing up of eyes?  
Come, come, be wise; return again,  
A finger burnt's as great a pain;  
And the same Physic, self same art  
Cures that, would cure a flaming heart:  
Wouldst thou whilst yet the fire is in  
But hold it to the fire again.  
If you (Dear Sir) the plague have got,  
What matter is't whether or not  
They let you in the same house lie,  
Or carry you abroad to die?  
He whom the plague, or Love once takes,  
Every Room a Pest-House makes.  
Absence were good if't were but sense  
That only holds th'Intelligence:  
Pure love alone no hurt would do,  
But love is love, and magic too;  
Brings a mistress a thousand miles,  
And the sleight of looks beguiles,  
Makes her entertain thee there,  
And the same time your Rival here;  
And (oh! the devil) that she should  
Say finer things now then she would;  
So nobly Fancy doth supply  
What the dull sense le's fall and die.  
Beauty like man's old enemy's known  
To tempt him most when he's alone:  
The air of some wild o'regrown wood,  
Or pathless Grove is the Boy's food.  
Return then back, and feed thine eye,  
Feed all thy senses, and feast high.  
Spare diet is the cause Love lasts,  
For Surfeits sooner kill than Fasts.    

A Supplement of an imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. Wil Shakespears, By the Author.  

1.  
ONe of her hands, one of her cheeks lay under,  
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss,  
Which therefore swelled, and seemed to part asunder,  
As angry to be robbed of such a bliss:  
The one looked pale, and for revenge did long,  
While t'other blushed, cause it had done the wrong.   

2.  
Out of the bed the other fair hand was  
On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white  
Looked like a Daisy in a field of grass,  

Thus far Shakespeare.  * And showed like unmelt snow unto the sight,  
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep  
The rest o'th' body that lay fast asleep.   

3.  
Her eyes (and therefore it was night) close laid,  
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn,  
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,  
That it broke through, and showed itself in scorn.  
Throwing a kind of light about the place,  
which turned to smiles still as't came near her face.   

4.  
Her beams (which some dull men called hair) divided  
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport,  
But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some  
Wiselyer downwards sought, but falling short,  
Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again  
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.    


THat none beguiled be by times quick flowing,  
Lovers have in their hearts a clock still going;  
For though Time be nimble, his motions are quicker  
and thicker  
where Love hath his notions:  
Hope is the main spring on which moves desire,  
And these do the less wheels, fear, joy, inspire;  
the balance is thought, evermore clicking  
and striking,  
and ne'er giving o'er  
Occasions the hand which still's moving round,  
Till by it the Critical hour may be found,  
And when that falls out, it will strike kisses,  
strange blisses,  
and what you best like.    


1.  
'tIs now since I sat down before  
That foolish Fort, a heart;  
(Time strangely spent) a Year, and more,  
And still I did my part:   

2.  
Made my approaches, from her hand  
Unto her lip did rise,  
And did already understand  
The language of her eyes.   

3.  
Proceeded on with no less Art,  
My Tongue was Engineer;  
I thought to undermine the heart  
By whispering in the ear.   

4.  
When this did nothing, I brought down  
Great Canon-oaths, and shot  
A thousand thousand to the Town,  
And still it yielded not.   

5.  
I then resolved to starve the place  
By cutting off all kisses,  
Praising and gazing on her face,  
And all such little blisses.   

6.  
To draw her out, and from her strength,  
I drew all batteries in:  
And brought myself to lie at length  
As if no siege had been.   

7.  
When I had done what man could do,  
And thought the place mine own,  
The Enemy lay quiet too,  
And smiled at all was done.   

8.  
I sent to know from whence, and where,  
These hopes, and this relief?  
A Spy informed, Honour was there,  
And did command in chief.   

9  
March, march (quoth I) the word strait give,  
Le's lose no time, but leave her:  
That Giant upon air will live,  
And hold it out for ever.   

10.  
To such a place our Camp remove  
As will no siege abide;  
I hate a fool that starves her Love  
Only to feed her pride.    

Upon my Lord Brohalls Wedding.  Dialogue. S. B. S. 
IN bed dull man?  
When Love and Hymen's Revels are begun,  
And the Church Ceremonis past and done.  B. 
Why who's gone mad to day?  S. 
Dull Heretic, thou wouldst say,  
He that is gone to Heaven's gone astray;  
Brohall our gallant friend  
Is gone to Church as Martyrs to the fire:  
Who marry differ but i'th'end,  
Since both do take  
The hardest way to what they most desire:  
Nor stayed he till the formal Priest had done,  
But ere that part was finished, his begun:  
Which did reveal  
The haste and eagerness men have to seal  
That long to tell the money.  
A sprig of Willow in his hat he wore,  
(The loser's badge and liv'ry heretofore)  
But now so ordered that it might be taken  
By lookers on, forsaking as forsaken.  
And now and then  
A careless smile broke forth, which spoke his mind,  
And seemed to say she might have been more kind.  
When this (dear Jack) I saw  
Thought I  
How weak is Lover's Law?  
The bonds made there (like gypsies knots) with ease  
Are fast and loose, as they that hold them please.  
But was the fair Nymphs praise or power less  
That led him captive now to happiness?  
'Cause she did not a foreign aid despise,  
But interred breaches made by others eyes:  
The Gods forbid,  
There must be some to shoot and batter down,  
Others to force and to take in the Town.  
To Hawks (good Jack) and hearts  
There may  
Be several ways and Arts;  
One watches them perchance, and makes them tame:  
Another, when they're ready, shows them game.   

Sir,  

WHether these lines do find you out,  
Putting or clearing of a doubt;  
(Whether Predestination,  
Or reconciling three in one,  
Or the unriddling how men die,  
And live at once eternally,  
Now take you up) know 'tis decreed  
You strait bestride the College Steed:  
Leave Socinus and the Schoolmen,  
(Which Jack Bond swears do but fool men)  
And come to Town; 'tis fit you show  
Yourself abroad, that men may know  
(What e'er some learned men have guest)  
That Oracles are not yet ceased:  
There you shall find the wit, and wine  
Flowing alike, and both divine:  
Dishes, with names not known in books,  
And less amongst the Colledge-Cooks,  
With sauce so pregnant that you need  
Not stay till hunger bids you feed.  
The sweat of learned Jonson's brain,  
And gentle Shakespear's eas'er strain,  
A hackney-coach conveys you to,  
In spite of all that rain can do:  
And for your eighteen pence you sit  
The Lord and Judge of all fresh wit.  
News in one day as much w'have here  
As serves all Windsor for a year,  
And which the Carrier brings to you,  
After 't has here been found not true.  
Then think what Company's designed  
To meet you here, men so refined,  
Their very common talk at board,  
Makes wise, or mad a young Court-Lord,  
And makes him capable to be  
Umpire in's Father's Company.  
Where no disputes nor forced defence  
Of a man's person for his sense  
Take up the time; all strive to be  
Masters of truth, as victory:  
And where you come, I'd boldly swear  
A Synod might as easily err.    

Against Fruition.  

Fie upon hearts that burn with mutual fire;  
I hate two minds that breathe but one desire:  
Were I to curse th'unhallow'd sort of men,  
I'd wish them to love, and be loved again.  
Love's a Chameleon, that lives on mere air;  
And surfeits when it comes to grosser fare:  
'Tis petty Jealousies, and little fears,  
Hopes joined with doubts, and joys with April tears,  
That crowns our Love with pleasures: these are gone  
When once we come to full Fruition.  
Like waking in a morning, when all night  
Our fancy hath been fed with true delight.  
Oh! what a strokeed would be! Sure I should die,  
Should I but hear my mistress once say, I.  
That monster expectation feeds too high  
For any Woman e'er to satisfy:  
And no brave Spirit ever cared for that  
Which in Down-beds with ease he could come at.  
she's but an honest whore that yields, although  
She be as cold as ice, as pure as snow:  
He that enjoys her hath no more to say  
But keep us Fasting if you'll have us pray.  
Then fairest Mistress, hold the power you have,  
By still denying what we still do crave:  
In keeping us in hopes strange things to see  
That never were, nor are, nor e'er shall be.    

A Ballad.  
Upon a Wedding.  

I Tell thee Dick where I have been,  
Where I the rarest things have seen;  
Oh things without compare!  
Such sights again cannot be found  
In any place on English ground,  
Be it at Wake, or Fair.   

At Charingcross, hard by the way  
Where we (thou knowst) do sell our Hay,  
There is a house with stairs;  
And there did I see coming down  
Such folk as are not in our Town,  
Forty at least, in Pairs.   

Amongst the rest, one pestilent fine,  
(His beard no bigger though than thine)  
Walked on before the rest:  
Our Landlord looks like nothing to him:  
The King (God bless him) 'twould undo him,  
Should he go still so dressed.   

At Course-a-Park, without all doubt,  
He should have first been taken out  
By all the Maids i'th' Town:  
Though lusty Roger there had been,  
Or little George upon the Green,  
Or Vincent of the Crown.   

But wot you what? the youth was going  
To make an end of all his wooing;  
The Parson for him stayed:  
Yet by his leave (for all his haste)  
He did not so much wish all past,  
(Perchance) as did the maid.   

The maid (and thereby hangs a tale)  
For such a maid no Whitson-ale  
Could ever yet produce:  
No Grape that's kindly ripe, could be  
So round, so plump, so soft as she,  
Nor half so full of Juice.   

Her finger was so small, the Ring  
Would not stay on which they did bring,  
It was too wide a Peck:  
And to say truth (for out it must)  
It looked like the great Collar (just)  
About our young Colt's neck.   

Her feet beneath her Petticoat,  
Like little mice stole in and out,  
As if they feared the light:  
But oh! she dances such a way!  
No Sun upon an Easter day  
Is half so fine a sight.   

He would have kissed her once or twice,  
But she would not, she was nice,  
She would not do't in sight,  
And then she looked as who should say  
I will do what I list to day;  
And you shall do't at night.   

Her Cheeks so rare a white was on,  
No Dazy makes comparison,  
(Who sees them is undone)  
For streaks of red were mingled there,  
Such as are on a Katherne Pear,  
(The side that's next the Sun.)   

Her lips were red, and one was thin,  
Compared to that was next her chin;  
(Some Bee had stung it newly.)  
But (Dick) her eyes so guard her face;  
I durst no more upon them gaze,  
Then on the Sun in July.   

Her mouth so small when she does speak,  
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break,  
That they might passage get,  
But she so handled still the matter,  
They came as good as ours, or better,  
And are not spent a whit.   

If wishing should be any sin,  
The Parson himself had guilty been;  
(She looked that day so purely,)  
And did the youth so oft the feat  
At night, as some did in conceit,  
It would have spoiled him, surely.   

Just in the nick the Cook knocked thrice,  
And all the waiters in a trice  
His summons did obey,  
Each serving man with dish in hand,  
Marched boldly up, like our Trained Band,  
Presented, and away.   

When all the meat was on the Table,  
What man of knife, or teeth, was able  
To stay to be entreated?  
And this the very reason was,  
Before the Parson could say Grace,  
The Company was seated.   

The business of the kitchen's great,  
For it is fit that men should eat;  
Nor was it there denied:  
Passion oh me! how I run on!  
There's that that would be thought upon,  
(I trow) besides the Bride.   

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse;  
Healths first go round, and then the house,  
The Brides came thick and thick:  
And when 'twas named another's health,  
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth.  
(And who could help it? Dick)   

O'th' sudden up they rise and dance;  
Then sit again and sigh, and glance:  
Then dance again and kiss:  
Thus several ways the time did pass,  
Till every Woman wished her place,  
And every Man wished his.   

By this time all were stolen aside  
To counsel and undress the Bride;  
But that he must not know:  
But yet 'twas thought he guest her mind,  
And did not mean to stay behind  
Above an hour or so.   

When in he came (Dick) there she lay  
Like new-fallen snow melting away,  
('Twas time I trow to part)  
Kisses were now the only stay,  
Which soon she gave, as who would say,  
Good Boy! with all my heart.   

But just as heavens would have to cross it,  
In came the Bridemaids with the Posset:  
The Bridegroom eat in spite;  
For had he left the Women to't  
It would have cost two hours to do't,  
Which were too much that night.   

At length the candles out and out,  
All that they had not done, they do't:  
What that is, who can tell?  
But I believe it was no more  
Than thou and I have done before  
With Bridget, and with Nell.    


MY dearest Rival, lest our Love  
Should with excentrique motion move,  
Before it learn to go astray,  
we'll teach and set it in a way,  
And such directions give unto't,  
That it shall never wander foot.  
Know first then, we will serve as true  
For one poor smile, as we would do  
If we had what our higher flame,  
Or our vainer wish could frame.  
Impossible shall be our hope;  
And Love shall only have his scope  
To join with Fancy now and then,  
And think what reason would condemn:  
And on these grounds we'll love as true,  
As if they were most sure t'ensue:  
And chastely for these things we'll stay,  
As if to morrow were the day.  
Mean time we two will teach our hearts  
In Love's burdens bear their parts:  
Thou first shall sigh, and say she's fair;  
And I'll still answer, past compare.  
Thou shalt set out each part o'th' face,  
While I extol each little grace;  
Thou shalt be ravished at her wit;  
And I, that she so governs it:  
Thou shalt like well that hand, that eye,  
That lip, that look, that majesty;  
And in good language them adore:  
While I want words, and do it more.  
Yea we will sit and sigh a while,  
And with soft thoughts some time beguile;  
But strait again break out and praise  
All we had done before new-ways.  
Thus will we do till paler death  
Come with a warrant for our breath,  
And then whose fate shall be to die  
First of us two, by Legacy  
Shall all his store bequeath, and give  
His love to him that shall survive;  
For no one stock can ever serve  
To love so much as she'll deserve.    

Song.  

1.  
HOnest Lover whosoever,  
If in all thy love there ever  
Was one wavering thought, if thy flame  
Were not still even, still the same:  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true,  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.   

2.  
If when she appears i'th' room,  
Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb,  
And in striving this to cover  
Dost not speak thy words twice over,  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true,  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.   

3.  
If fond thou dost not mistake,  
And all defects for graces take,  
Persuadest thyself that jests are broken,  
When she hath little or nothing spoken,  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true,  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.   

4.  
If when thou appear'st to be within,  
Thou lettest not men ask and ask again,  
And when thou answerest, if it be  
To what was asked thee properly,  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.   

5.  
If when thy stomach calls to eat,  
Thou cuttest not fingers ' steed of meat,  
And with much gazing on her face  
Dost not rise hungry from the place,  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true,  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.   

6.  
If by this thou dost discover  
That thou art no perfect Lover,  
And desiring to love true,  
Thou dost begin to love anew:  
Know this,  
Thou lov'st amiss,  
And to love true,  
Thou must begin again, and love anew.    

Upon two Sisters.  

BEleev't young Man, I can as easily tell  
How many yards and inches 'tis to hell;  
Unriddle all predestination,  
Or the nice points we now dispute upon,  
Had the three Goddesses been just as fair,   

It had not been so easily decided  
And sure the apple must have been divided:  
It must, it must; he's impudent, dares say  
Which is the handsomer till one's away.  
And it was necessary it should be so;  
Wise Nature did foresee it, and did know  
When she had framed the Eldest, that each heart  
Must at the first sight feel the blind-god's dart:  
And sure as can be, had she made but one,  
No plague had been more sure destruction;  
For we had liked, loved, burnt to ashes too,  
In half the time that we are choosing now:  
Variety, and equal objects make  
The busy eye still doubtful which to take;  
This lip, this hand, this foot, this eye, this face,  
The others body, gesture, or her grace:  
And whilst we thus dispute which of the two,  
We unresolved go out, and nothing do.  
He sure is happi'st that has hopes of either,  
Next him is he that sees them both together.    

To his Rival.  

NOw we have taught our Love to know  
That it must creep where't cannot go▪  
And be for once content to live,  
Since here it cannot have to thrive;  
It will not be amiss t'enquire  
What fuel should maintain this fire:  
For fires do either flame too high,  
Or where they cannot flame, they die.  
First then (my half but better heart)  
Know this must wholly be her part;  
(For thou and I, like Clocks, are wound  
Up to the height, and must move round)  
She then by still denying what  
We fond crave, shall such a rate  
Set on each trifle, that a kiss  
Shall come to be the utmost bliss.  
Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder,  
Those sparks mere fire will still engender:  
To make this good, no debt shall be  
From service or fidelity;  
For she shall ever pay that score,  
By only bidding us do more:  
So (though she still a niggard be)  
In graceing, where none's due, she's free:  
The favours she shall cast on us,  
(Lest we should grow presumptuous)  
Shall not with too much love be shown,  
Nor yet the common way still done;  
But every smile and little glance  
Shall look half lent, and half by chance:  
The Ribbon, Fan, or Muff that she  
Would should be kept by thee or me,  
Should not be given before to many,  
But neither thrown to's when there's any;  
So that herself should doubtful be  
Whether 'twere fortune flunged, or she.  
She shall not like the thing we do  
Sometimes, and yet shall like it too;  
Nor any notice take at all  
Of what, we gone, she would extol:  
Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish,  
For where fear is, love cannot flourish;  
Yet live it must, nay must and shall,  
While Desdemona is at all:  
But when she's gone, than Love shall die,  
And in her grave buried lie.    

Farewell to Love.  

1.  
WEll shadowed Landscape, fare-ye-well:  
How I have loved you, none can tell,  
At least so well  
As he that now hates more  
Than e'er he loved before.   

2.  
But my dear nothings, take your leave,  
No longer must you me deceive,  
Since I perceive  
All the deceit, and know  
Whence the mistake did grow.   

3.  
As he whose quicker eye doth trace  
A false star shot to a marked place,  
Does run apace,  
And thinking it to catch,  
A jelly up does snatch.   

4.  
So our dull souls tasting delight  
Far off, by sense, and appetite,  
Think that is right  
And real good; when yet  
'Tis but the Counterfeit.   

5.  
Oh! how I glory now▪ that I  
Have made this new discovery!  
Each wanton eye  
Inflamed before: no more  
Will I increase that score.   

6.  
If I gaze, now, 'tis but to see  
What manner of deaths-head 'twill be,  
When it is free  
From that fresh upper skin;  
The gazer's Joy, and sin.   

7.  
The Gun and glist'ning which with art  
And studied method, in each part  
Hangs down the heart,  
Looks (just) as if, that day  
Snails there had crawled the Hay.   

8.  
The Locks, that curled o'er each ear be,  
Hang like two Master-worms to me,  
That (as we see)  
Have tasted to the rest  
Two holes, where they liked best.   

9  
A quick coarse methinks I spy  
In every woman; and mine eye,  
At passing by,  
Check, and is troubled, just  
As if it rose from Dust.   

10.  
They mortify, not heighten me:  
These of my sins the Glasses be:  
And here I see  
How I have loved before.  
And so I love no more.   
FINIS.   

LETTERS To divers Eminent PERSONAGES: Written on several Occasions,  
By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
Printed by his own Copy.  
LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1646.   

FOrtune and Love have ever been so incompatible, that it is no wonder (Madam) if having had so much of the one for you, I have ever found so little of the other for myself; Coming to Town (and having rid as if I had brought intelligence of a new-landed Enemy to the State) I find you gone the day before, and with you (Madam) all that is considerable upon the place; for though you have left behind you, faces whose beauties might well excuse perjury in others, yet in me they cannot, since to the making that no sin, Loves Casuists have most rationally resolved, that she for whom we forsake, aught to be handsomer than the forsaken, which would be here impossible: So that now a gallery hung with Titians or Vandikes hand, and a chamber filled with living Excellence, are the same things to me; and the use that I shall make of that Sex now, will be no other than that which the wiser sort of Catholics do of Pictures; at the highest, they but serve to raise my devotion to you: Should a great Beauty now resolve to take me in (as that is all they think belongs to it) with the Artillery of her eyes, it would be as vain, as for a Thief to set upon a new robbed passenger; You Madam) have my heart already, nor can you use it unkindly but with some injustice, since (besides that it left a good service to wait on you) it was never known to stay so long, or so willingly before with any; After all, the wages will not be high; for it hath been brought up under Platonics, and knows no other way of being paid for service, then by being commanded more; which truth when you doubt, you have but to send to its master and  
Your humble Servant, J. S.   

A dissuasion from Love.  
Jack,  
THough your disease be in the number of those that are better cured with time then precept, yet since it is lawful for every man to practise upon them that are forsaken and given over (which I take to be your state) I will adventure to prescribe to you; and of the innocence of the Physic you shall not need to doubt, since I can assure you I take it daily myself.  
To begin Methodically, I should enjoin you Travel; for Absence doth in a kind remove the cause (removing the object) and answers the Physicians first Recipez, vomiting and purging; but this would be too harsh, and indeed not agreeing to my way. I therefore advise you to see her as often as you can, for (besides that the rarity of visits endears them) this may bring you to surprise her, and to discover little defects, which though they cure not absolutely, yet they qualify the fury of the Fever: As near as you can let it be unseasonably, when she is in sickness, and disorder; for that will let you know she is mortal, and a Woman, and the last would be enough to a wise man: If you could draw her to discourse of things she understands not, it would not be amiss.  
Contrive yourself often into the Company of the cried▪ up Beauties; for if you read but one book, it will be no wonder if you speak or write that stile; variety will breed distraction, and that will be a kind of diverting the humour.  
I would not have you deny yourself the little things (for these Agues are easier cured with Surfeits than abstinence) rather (if you can) taste all: for that (as an old Author saith) will let you see 
That the thing for which we woo,  
Is not worth so much ado.  But since that here would be impossible, you must be content to take it where you can get it. And this for your comfort I must tell you (Jack) that Mistress and Woman differ no otherwise then Frontiniack and ordinary Grapes: which though a man loves never so well, yet if he surfeit of the last, he will care but little for the first.  
I would have you leave that foolish humour (Jack) of saying you are not in love with her, and pretending you care not for her; for smothered fires are dangerous, and malicious humours are best and safest vented and breathed out. Continue your affection to your Rival still, that will secure you from one way of loving, which is in spite; and preserve your friendship with her woman; for who knows but she may help you to the remedy.  
A jolly glass and right Company would much conduce to the cure; for though in the Scripture (by the way it is but Apocrypha) Woman is resolved stronger than Wine, yet whether it will be so or not, when wit is joined to it, may prove a fresh question.  
Marrying (as our friend the late Ambassador hath wittily observed) would certainly cure it; but that is a kind of live Pigeons laid to the sols of the feet, a last remedy, and (to say truth) worse than the disease.  
But (Jack) I remember I promised you a letter, not a Treaty; I now expect you should be just, and as I have showed you how to get out of love, so you (according to our bargain) should teach me how to get into it. I know you have but one way, and will prescribe me now to look upon Mistress Howard; but for that I must tell you aforehand, that it is love as in Antipathy; The Capers which will make my Lord of Dorset go from the Table, another man will eat up. And (Jack) if you would make a visit to Bedlam, you shall find, that there are rarely two there mad for the same thing.  
Your humble Servant.   

THough (Madam) I have ever hitherto believed play to be a thing in itself as merely indifferent as Religion to a Statesman, or love made in a privie-chamber; yet hearing you have resolved it otherwise for me, my faith shall alter without becoming more learned upon it, or once knowing why it should do so; so great and just a Sovereignty is that your reason hath above all others, that mine must be a Rebel to itself, should it not obey thus easily; and indeed all the infallibility of judgement we poor Protestants have, is at this time wholly in your hands.  
The loss of a Mistress (which kills men only in Romances, and is still digested with the first meat we eat after it) had yet in me raised up so much passion, and so just a quarrel (as I thought) to Fortune for it, that I could not but tempt her to do me right upon the first occasion: yet (Madam) has it not made me so desperate but that I can sit down a loser both of that time and money too, when there shall be the least fear of losing you▪  
And now, since I know your Ladyship is too wise to suppose to yourself impossibilities, and therefore cannot think of such a thing, as of making me absolutely good; it will not be without some impatience that I shall attend to know what sin you will be pleased to assign me in the room of this: something that has less danger about it (I conceive it would be) and therefore if you please (Madam) let it not be Women: for to say truth, it is a diet I cannot yet relish, otherwise then men do that on which they surfeited last.  
Your humblest Servant, J. S.   

Madam,  
BEfore this instant I did not believe Warwickshire the other world, or that Milcot walks had been the blessed shades. At my arrival here I am saluted by all as risen from the dead, and have had joy given me as preposterously and as impertinently as they give it to men who marry where they do not love. If I should now die in earnest, my friends have nothing to pay me, for they have discharged the Rites of Funeral sorrow before hand. Nor do I take it ill, that report which made Richard the second alive so often after he was dead, should kill me as often when I am alive; The advantage is on my side: The only quarrel I have, is that they have made use of the whole Book of Martyrs upon me; and without all question the first Christians under the great persecutions suffered not in 500 years, so many several ways as I have done in six days in this lewd Town. This (Madam) may seem strange unto you now, who know the Company I was in; and certainly if at that time I had departed this transitory World, it had been a way they had never thought on; and this Epitaph of the Spaniards (changing the names) would better have become my Grave-stone, than any other my friends the Poets would have found out for me:  

Epitaph.  
Here lies Don Alonzo,  
Slain by a wound received under  
His left Pap,  
The Orifice of which was so  
Small, no Chirurgeon could  
Discover it.  
Reader,  
If thou wouldst avoid so strange  
A Death,  
Look not upon Lucinda'es' eyes.   
Now all this discourse of dying (Madam) is but to let you know how dangerous a thing it is to be long from London, especially in a place which is concluded out of the World. If you are not to be frighted hither, I hope you are to be persuaded; and if good Sermons, or good Plays, new Braveries, or fresh Wit, Revels (Madam) Masks that are to be, have any Rhetoric about them, here they are I assure you in perfection; without ask leave of the Provinces beyond Seas, or the assent of— I write not this that you should think I value these pleasures above those of Milcot: for I must here protest, I prefer the single Tabor and Pipe in the great Hall, far above them: and were there no more belonging to a journey then riding so many miles (would my affairs conspire with my desires) your Ladyship should find there not at the bottom of a Letter  
Madam, Your humble Servant,   

Madam,  
I Thank Heaven we live in an Age in which the Widows wear Colors, and in a Country where the Women that lose their Husbands may be trusted with poison, knives, and all the burning coals in Europe, notwithstanding the precedent of Sophonisba and Portia: Considering the estate you are in now, I should reasonably imagine meaner Physicians than Seneca or Cicero might administer comfort. It is so far from me to imagine this accident should surprise you, that in my opinion it should not make you wonder; it being not strange at all that a man who hath lived ill all his time in a house, should break a Window, or steal away in the night through an unusual Postern: you are now free, and what matter is it to a Prisoner whether the fetters be taken off the ordinary way or not? If instead of putting off handsomely the chain of Matrimony, he hath rudely broke it, 'tis at his own charge, nor should it cost you a tear; Nothing (Madam) has worse Mine than counterfeit sorrow, and you must have the height of Woman's Art to make yours appear other, especially when the spectators shall consider all the story.  
The sword that is placed betwixt a contracted Princess and an Ambassador, was as much a Husband, and the only difference was, that that sword laid in the bed, allowed one to supply its place; this Husband denied all, like a false Crow set up in a Garden, which keeps others from the fruit it cannot taste itself: I would not have you so much as inquire whether it were with his garters or his Cloak-bag strings, nor engage yourself to fresh sighs by hearing new relations.  
The Spanish Princess Leonina (whom Balzac delivers the Ornament of the last Age) was wise; who hearing a Post was sent to tell her her Husband was dead, and knowing the Secretary was in the way for that purpose, sent to stay the Post till the arrival of the Secretary, that she might not be obliged to shed tears twice. Of ill things the less we know, the better. Curiosity would here be as vain, as if a Cuckold should inquire whether it were upon the Couch or a Bed, and whether the Cavalier pulled off his Spurs first or not.  
I must confess it is a just subject for our sorrow to hear of any that does quit his station without his leave that placed him there; and yet as ill a Mine as this Act has: 't was a-la-Romansci, as you may see by a line of Mr. Shakespears, who bringing in Titinius after a lost battle, speaking to his sword, and bidding it find out his heart, adds 
By your leave Gods, this a Romans part.   
'Tis true, I think Cloak-bag strings were not then so much in fashion; but to those that are not Swordmen, the way is not so despicable; and for my own part, I assure you Christianity highly governs me in the minute in which I do not wish with all my heart that all the discontents in his Majesty's three Kingdoms would find out this very way of satisfying themselves and the world.  
I. S.   

Sir,  
SInce the settling of your Family would certainly much conduce to the settling of your mind (the care of the one being the trouble of the other) I cannot but reckon it in the number of my misfortunes, that my affairs deny me the content I should take to serve you in it.  
It would be too late now for me (I suppose) to advance or confirm you in those good resolutions I left you in, being confident your own reason hath been so just to you, as long before this to have represented a necessity of redeeming time and fame, and of taking an handsome revenge upon yourself for the injuries you would have done yourself.  
Change I confess (to them that think all at once) must needs be strange, and to you hateful, whom first your own nature, and then custom another nature, have brought to delight in those narrow and uncouth ways we found you in. You must therefore consider that you have entered into one of those near conjunctions of which death is the only honourable divorce; and that you have now to please another as well as yourself; who though she be a Woman, and by the patent she hath from nature, hath liberty to do simply; yet can she never be so strongly bribed against herself, as to betray at once all her hopes and ends, and for your sake resolve to live miserably. Examples of such loving folly our times afford but few; and in those there are, you shall find the stock of Love to have been greater, and their strengths richer to maintain it, than is to be feared yours can be.  
Woman (besides the trouble) has ever been thought a Rent-charge, and though through the vain curiosity of man it has often been enclosed, yet has it seldom been brought to improve or become profitable; It faring with married men for the most part, as with those that at great charges wall in grounds and plant, who cheaper might have eaten Melons elsewhere then in their own Gardens Cucumbers. The ruins that either time, sickness, or the melancholy you shall give her, shall bring; must all be made up at your cost: for that thing a husband is but Tenant for life in what he holds, and is bound to leave the place Tenantable to the next that shall take it. To conclude, a young Woman is a Hawk upon her wings; and if she be handsome, she is the more subject to go out at check; Falconers that can but seldom spring right game, should still have something about them to take them down with. The Lure to which all stoop in this world, is either garnished with profit or pleasure, and when you cannot throw her the one, you must be content to show out the other. This I speak not out of a desire to increase your fears which are already but too many, but out of a hope that when you know the worst, you will at once leap into the River, and swim through handsomely, and not (weatherbeaten with the divers blasts of irresolution) stand shivering upon the brink.  
Doubts and fears are of all the sharpest passions, and are still turning distempers to diseases; through these false Optics 'tis, all that you see is like evening shadows, disproportionable to the truth, and strangely longer than the true substance: These (when a handsome way of living and expense suitable to your Fortune is represented to you) makes you in their stead see want and beggary: thrusting upon your judgement impossibilities for likelihoods, which they with ease may do (since as Solomon saith) they betray the succours that reason offers.  
'Tis true, that all here below is but diversified folly, and that the little things we laugh at Children for, we do but act ourselves in great; yet is there difference of Lunacy, and of the two, I had much rather be mad with him, that (when he had nothing) thought all the Ships that came into the Haven his; Than with you, who (when you have so much coming in) think you have nothing; This fear of losing all in you, is the ill issue of a worse Parent, desire of getting in you; So that if you would not be passion-rent, you must cease to be covetous: Money in your hand is like the Conjurer's Devil, which, while you think you have, that has you.  
The rich Talon that God hath given, or rather lent you, you have hid up in a napkin, and Man knows no difference betwixt that and Treasures kept by ill Spirits, but that yours is the harder to come by. To the guarding of these golden Apples, of necessity must be kept those never sleeping Dragons, Fear, Jealousy, Distrust, and the like; so that you are come to moralise AEsop, and his fables of beasts are become prophecies of you; for while you have catcht at the shadow, uncertain riches; you have loft the substance, true content.  
The desire I have ye should be yet yourself, and that your friends should have occasion to bless the providence of misfortune, has made me take the boldness to give you your own Character; and to show you yourself out of your own glass: And though all this tells you but where you are, yet it is some part of a cure to have searched the wound. And for this time we must be content to do like Travellers, who first find out the place, and then the nearest way.   

My Noble Lord,  
YOur humble Servant had the honour to receive from your hand a Letter, and had the grace upon the sight of it to blush. I but then found my own negligence, and but now could have the opportunity to ask pardon for it. We have ever since been upon a March, and the places we are come to, have afforded rather blood than Ink: and of all things, Sheets have been the hardest to come by, specially those of Paper. If these few lines shall have the happiness to kiss your hand, they can assure, that he that sent them knows none to whom he owes more obligation then to your Lordship, and to whom he would more willingly pay it: and that it must be no less than necessity itself that can hinder him from often presenting it. Germany hath no whit altered me, I am still the humble servant of my Lord [] that I was, and when I cease to be so, I must cease to be  
John Suckling.   

SInce you can breathe no one desire that was not mine before it was yours,— or full as soon, (for hearts united never knew divided wishes) I must chide you (dear Princess) not thank you, for your Present: and (if at least I knew how) be angry with you for sending him a blush, who needs must blush because you sent him one. If you are conscious of much, what am I then? who guilty am of all you can pretend to, and something more— unworthiness. But why should you at all (Heart of my heart) disturb the happiness you have so newly given me? or make love feed on doubts, that never yet could thrive on such a diet? If I have granted your request— Oh!— Why will you ever say that you have studied me, and give so great an instance to the contrary? that wretched If— speaks as if I would refuse what you desire, or could: both which are equally impossible. My dear Princess, There needs no new Approaches where the Breach is made already; nor must you ever ask any where, but of your fair self, for any thing that shall concern  
Your humble Servant.   

My Dearest Princess,  
BUt that I know I love you more than ever any did any, and that yet I hate myself because I can love you no more, I should now most unsatisfied dispatch away this messenger.  
The little that I can write to what I would, makes me think writing a dull commerce, and then— how can I choose but wish myself with you— to say the rest. My Dear Dear, think what merit, virtue, beauty, what and how far Aglaura with all her charms can oblige, and so far and something more I am  
Your humble Servant.   

A Letter to a Friend to dissuade him from marrying a Widow which he formerly had been in Love with, and quitted.  
AT this time when no hot Planet fires the blood, and when the Lunatics of Bedlam themselves are trusted abroad; that you should run mad, is (Sir) not so much a subject for your friends pity, as their wonder. 'Tis true, Love is a natural distemper, a kind of Small Pocks: Every one either hath had it, or is to expect it, & the sooner the better.  
Thus far you are excused: But having been well cured of a Fever, to court a Relapse, to make Love the second time in the same Place, is (not to flatter you) neither better nor worse then to fall into a Quagmire by chance, and ride into it afterwards on purpose. 'Tis not love (Tom) that that doth the mischief, but constancy, for Love is of the nature of a burning-glasse, which kept still in one place, fireth: changed often, it doth nothing: a kind of glowing-Coal, which with shifting from hand to hand a man easily endures. But then to marry! (Tom) Why thou hadst better to live honest. Love thou know'st is blind, what will he do when he hath Fetters on thinkest thou?  
Dost thou know what marriage is? 'Tis curing of Love the dearest way, or waking a losing Gamester out of a winning dream: and after a long expectation of a strange banquet, a presentation of a homely meal. Alas! (Tom) Love-seeds when it runs up to Matrimony, and is good for nothing. Like some Fruit-trees, it must be transplanted if thou wouldst have it active, and bring forth any thing.  
Thou now perchance hast vowed all that can be vowed to any one face, and thinkst thou hast left nothing unsaid to it: do but make love to another, and if thou art not suddenly furnished with new-language, and fresh oaths, I will conclude Cupid hath used thee worse than ever he did any of his train.  
After all this, to marry Widow, a kind of chew'dmeat! What a fantastical stomach hast thou, that canst not eat of a dish till another man hath cut of it? who would wash after another, when he might have fresh water enough for ask?  
Life is sometimes a long-journey: to be tied to ride upon one beast still, and that halftyred to thy hand too! Think upon that (Tom.)  
Well; If thou must needs marry (as who can tell to what height thou hast sinned? Let it be a Maid, and no Widow: (for as a modern Author hath wittily resolved in this case) 'tis better (if a man must be in Prison) to lie in a private room then in the hole.   

An Answer to the Letter.  
CEase to wonder (honest Jack) and give me leave to pity thee, who labourest to condemn that which thou confessest natural, and the sooner had, the better.  
Thus far there needs no excuse, unless it be on thy behalf, who stilest second thoughts (which are by all allowed the Best) a relapse, and talkest of a quagmire where no man ever stuck fast, and accusest constancy of mischief in what is natural, and advisedly undertaken.  
'Tis confessed that Love changed often doth nothing; nay 'tis nothing: for Love and change are incompatible: but where it is kept fixed to its first object, though it burn not, yet it warms and cherisheth, so as it needs no transplantation, or change of soil to make it fruitful: and certainly if Love be natural, to marry is the best Recipe for living honest.  
Yes, I know what marriage is, and know you know it not, by terming it the dearest way of curing Love: for certainly there goes more charge to the keeping of a Stable full of horses, than one only Steed: and much of vanity is therein besides: when, be the errand what it will, this one Steed shall serve your turn as well as twenty more. Oh! if you could serve your Steed so!  
Marriage turns pleasing Dreams to ravishing Realities which out do what Fancy or expectation can frame unto themselves.  
That Love doth seed when it runs into Matrimony, is undoubted truth; how else should it increase and multiply, which is its greatest blessing.  
'Tis not the want of Love, nor Cupid's fault, if every day afford not new-language, and new-ways of expressing affection: it rather may be caused through an excess of joy, which oftentimes strikes dumb.  
These things considered I will marry, nay, and to prove the second Paradox false, I'll marry a Widow, who is rather the chewer, than thing chewed. How strangely fantastical is he who will be an hour in plucking on a strait-boot, when he may be forthwith furnished with enough that will come on easily, and do him as much credit, and better service? Wine when first-broacht, drinks not half so well as after a while drawing. Would you not think him a mad man who whilst he might fair & easily ride on the beaten-road-way, should trouble himself with breaking up of gaps? a well weighed horse will safely convey thee to thy journey's end, when an unbackt Filly may by chance give thee a fall: 'Tis Princelike to marry a Widow, for 'tis to have a Taster.  
'tis true, life may prove a long▪ journey; and so believe me it must do, A very long one too, before the Beast you talk of prove tired. Think you upon that (Jack.)  
Thus, Jack, thou seest my wel-tane resolution of marrying, and that a Widow, not a maid; to which I am much induced out of what Pythagoras saith (in his 2 da Sect. cu●iculorum) that it is better lying in the hole, then sitting in the Stocks.   

When I receive your lines (my Dear Princess) and find there expressions of a Passion; though reason and my own immerit tell me, it must not be for me; yet is the Cozenage so pleasing to me, that I (bribed by my own desires) believe them still before the other. Then do I glory that my Virgin-Love has stayed for such an object to fix upon, and think how good the Stars were to me that kept me from quenching those flames (Youth or wild Love furnished me withal) in common and ordinary Waters, and reserved me a Sacrifice for your eyes;— While thought thus smiles and solaces himself within me, cruel Remembrance breaks in upon our retirements, and tells so sad a Story, that (trust me) I forget all that pleased Fancy said before, and turns my thoughts to where I left you. Then I consider that storms neither know Courtship, nor Pity, and that those rude blasts will often make you a Prisoner this Winter, if they do no worse.  
While I here enjoy fresh diversion, you make the sufferings more, by having leisure to consider them; nor have I now any way left me to make mine equal with them, but by often considering that they are not so: for the thought that I cannot be with you to bear my share, is more intolerable▪ to me, then if I had borne more— but I was only born to number hours, and not enjoy them— yet can I never think myself unfortunate, while I can write myself  
Aglaura, Her humble Servant.   

When I consider (my Dear Princess that I have no other pretence to your favours, then that which all men have to the Original of Beauty, Light: which we enjoy not that it is the inheritance of our eyes, but because things most excellent cannot restrain themselves, but are ours, as they are diffusively good; Then do I find the justness of your quarrel, and cannot but blush to think what I do owe, but much more to think what I do pay, Since I have made the Principal so great, by sending in so little Interest— When you have received this humble confession, you will not I hope, conceive me one that would (though upon your bidding) enjoy myself, while there is such a thing in the world, as—  
Aglaura— Her humble Servant. J. S.   

SO much (Dear—) was I ever yours since I had first the honour to know you, and consequently so little myself since I had the unhappiness to part with you, that you yourself (Dear) without what I would say, cannot but have been so just as to have imagined the welcome of your own letters; though indeed they have but removed me from one Rack, to set me on another; from fears and doubts I had about me of your welfare, to an unquietness within myself, till I have deserved this Intelligence.  
How pleasingly troublesome thought and remembrance have been to me since I left you, I am no more able now to express, than another to have them so. You only could make every place you came in worth the thinking of, and I do think those places worthy my thought only, because you made them so. But I am to leave them, and I shall do't the willinger, because the Gamester still is so much in me, as that I love not to be told too often of my losses: Yet every place will be alike, since every good object will do the same. Variety of Beauty and of Faces (quick underminers of Constancy to others) to me will be but pillars to support it; Since when they please me most, I most shall think of you.  
In spite of all Philosophy, it will be hottest in my Climate, when my Sun is farthest off; and in spite of all reason, I proclaim, that I am not myself but when I am  
Yours wholly.   

THough desire in those that love be still like too much sail in a storm, and man cannot so easily strike, or take all in when he pleases: Yet (Dearest Princess) be it never so hard, when you shall think it dangerous, I shall not make it difficult, though— Well; Love is love, and Air is Air; and (though you are a Miracle yourself) yet do not I believe that you can work any; without it I am confident you can never make these two thus different in themselves, one and the self same thing; when you shall, it will be some small furtherance towards it, that you have  
Your humble servant. J. S.  
Who so truly loves the fair Aglaura, that he will never know desire, at least not entertain it, that brings not letters of recommendation from her, or first a fair Passport.   

My Dear Dear,  
THink I have kissed your Letter to nothing, and now know not what to answer. Or that now I am answering, I am kissing you to nothing, and know not how to go on! For you must pardon, I must hate all I send you here, because it expresses nothing in respect of what it leaves behind with me. And oh! Why should I write then? Why should I not come myself? Those Tyrants, business, honour, and necessity, what have they to do with you and I? Why should we not do Love's commands before theirs whose Sovereignty is but usurped upon us? Shall we not smell to Roses 'cause others do look on? or gather them, 'cause there are prickles, and something that would hinder us? Dear— I fain would— and know no hindrance— but what must come from you— and— why should any come? since 'tis not I, but you must be sensible how much time we lose, It being long since I was not myself, but  
Yours.   

Dear Princess,  
FInding the date of your Letter so young, and having an assurance from [] who at the same time heard from Mr. [] that all our Letters have been delivered at [B] I cannot but imagine some ill mistake, and that you have not received any at all. Faith I have none in Welsh, man; and though Fear and Suspicion look often so far that they oversee the right, yet when Love holds the Candle, they seldom do mistake so much. My Dearest Princess, I shall long, next hearing you are well, to hear that they are safe: for though I can never be ashamed to be found an Idolater to such a shrine as yours, yet since the world is full of profane eyes, the best way, sure, is to keep all mysteries from them, and to let privacy be (what indeed it is) the best part of devotion. So thinks  
My D. D. P. Your humble Servant.   

SInce the inferior Orbs move but by the first, without all question desires and hopes in me are to be governed still by you, as they by it. What mean these fears then? Dear Princess.  
Though Planets wander, yet is the Sphere that carries them the same still; and though wishes in me may be extravagant, yet he in whom they make their motion is, you know, my dear Princess,  
Yours, and wholly to be disposed of by you.  
And till we hear from you, though (according to the form of concluding a Letter) we should now rest, we cannot.   

Fair Princess,  
IF parting be a sin (as sure it is) what then to part from you? if to extenuate an ill be to increase it, what then now to excuse it by a letter? That which we would allege to lessen it, with you perchance has added to the guilt already, which is our sudden leaving you. Abruptness is an eloquence in parting, when Spinning out of time, is but the weaving of new sorrow. And thus we thought yet not being able to distinguish of our own Acts, the fear we may have sinned farther than we think of, has made us send to you, to know whether it be Mortal or not.   

For the Two Excellent Sisters.  
THough I conceive you (Ladies) so much at leisure that you may read any thing, yet since the stories of the Town are merely amorous, and sound nothing but Love, I cannot without betraying my own judgement make them news for Wales. Nor can it be less improper to transport them to you, then for the King to send my Lord of C. over Ambassador this winter into Green-land.  
It would want faith in so cold a Country as Anglesey, to say that your Cousin Duchess, for the quenching of some foolish flames about her, has endured quietly the loss of much of the King's favour, of many of her houses, and of most of her friends.  
Whether the disfigurement that Travel or sickness has bestowed upon B W. be thought so great by the Lady of the Isle, as 'tis by others, and whether the alteration of his face has bred a change in her mind— it never troubles you— Ladies. What old Loves are decayed, or what new▪ ones are sprung up in their room; Whether this Lady be too discreet, or that Cavalier not secret enough; are things that concern the inhabitants of Anglesey not at all. A fair day is better welcome and more news, than all that can be said in this kind. And for all that I know now, the Devil's Chimney is on fire, or his pot seething over, and all North-Wales not able to stay the fury of it. Perchance while I write this, a great black cloud is sailing from Mistress Thomasses bleak Mountains over to Baron-hill, there to disgorge itself with what the Sea or worse places fed it with before.  
It may be the honest banks about you turn bankrupt too, and break; and the Sea like an angry Creditor seizes upon all, and hath no pity, because he has been put off so long from time to time. For variety (and it is not impossible) some boisterous wind flings up the hangings; and thinking to do as much to your clothes, finds a resistance, and so departs, but first breaks all the windows about the house for it in revenge.  
These things now we that live in London cannot help, and they are as great news to men that sit in Boxes at blackfriars, as the affairs of Love to Flannel-Weavers.  
For my own part, I think I have made a great compliment, when I have wished myself with you, and more than I dare make good in Winter: and yet there is none would venture farther for such a happiness than  
Your humble servant.   

The Wine-drinkers to the Water-drinkers, greeting.  
WHereas by your Ambassador two days since sent unto us, we understand that you have lately had a plot to surprise (or to speak more properly) to take the waters; and in it have not only a little miscarried, but also met with such difficulties, that unless you be speedily relieved, you are like to suffer in the adventure; We as well out of pity to you, as out of care to our State and Commonwealth (knowing that Women have ever been held necessary, and that nothing relisheth so well after Wine) have so far taken it into our consideration, that we have neglected no means since we heard of it first, that might be for your contents, or the good of the cause; and therefore to that purpose we have had divers meetings at the Bear at the Bridge-foot, and now at length have resolved to dispatch to you one of our Cabinet-Councel, Colonel Young, with some slight Forces of Canary, and some few of Sherry, which no doubt will stand you in good steed, if they do not mutiny and grow too headstrong for their Commander; him Captain Puff of Barton shall follow with all expedition, with two or three Regiments of Claret; Monsieur de Granville, commonly called Lieutenant Strutt, shall lead up the Rear of Rhenish and White. These succours thus timely sent, we are confident will be sufficient to hold the Enemy in Play; and till we hear from you again, we shall not think of a fresh supply: For the Waters (though perchance they have driven you into some extremities, and divers times forced their passages through some of your best guarded places) yet have they, if our intelligence fail us not, hitherto had the worst of it still, and evermore at length plainly run away from you.  
Given under our hands at the Bear, this fourth of July.   

SInce Joy (the thing we all so Court) is but our hopes stripped of our fears, pardon me if I be still pressing at it, and like those that are curious to know their fortunes aforehand desire to be satisfied, though it displeases me afterward. To this Gentleman (who has as much insight as the tother wanted Eyesight) I have committed the particulars, which would too much swell a Letter: if they shall not please you, 'tis but fresh subject still for Repentance; nor ever did that make me quarrel with any thing but my own stars. To swear new oaths from this place, were but to weaken the credit of those I have sworn in another: if heaven be to forgive you now for not believing of them then, (as sure as it was a sin) heaven forgive me now for swearing of them then (for that was double sin.) More than I am I cannot be, nor list,  
Yours, I. S.  
I am not so ill a Protestant as to believe in merit, yet if you please to give answer under your own hand, such as I shall for ever rely upon: if I have not deserved it already, it is not impossible but I may.   

To a Cousin (who still loved young Girls, and when they came to be marriageable, quitted them, and fell in love with fresh) at his father's request, who desired he might be persuaded out of the humour, and marry.  
Honest Charles,  
Were there not fools enough before in the Commonwealth of Lovers, but that thou must bring up a new Sect? Why delighted with the first knots of roses, and when they come to blow (can satisfy the sense, and do the end of their Creation) dost not care for them? Is there nothing in this foolish transitory world that thou canst find out to set thy heart upon, but that which has newly left off making of dirt-pyes, and is but preparing itself for loam, and a green▪ sickness? Seriously (Charles) and without ceremony, 'tis very foolish, and to love widows is as tolerable an humour, and as justifiable as thine— for beasts that have been rid of their legs are as much for a man's use, as Colts that are un-wayed, and will not go at all:— Why the devil such young things? before these understand what thou wouldst have, others would have granted. Thou dost not marry them neither, nor any thing else. 'Sfoot it is the story of the Jack-an-apes and the Partridges; thou starest after a beauty till it is lost to thee, & then lettest out another, and starest after that till it is gone too. Never considering that it is here as in the Thames, and that while it runs up in the middle, it runs down on the sides; while thou contemplat'st the comming-in-tide and flow of Beauty, that it ebbs with thee, and that thy youth goes out at the same time: After all this too, She thou now art cast upon will have much ado to avoid being ugly. Pox on't, Men will say thou wert benighted, and wert glad of any Inn. Well! (Charles) there is another way if you could find it out. Women are like Melons: too green, or too ripe, are worth nothing; you must try till you find a right one. Taste all, but hark you— (Charles) you shall not need to eat of all, for one is sufficient for a surfeit: Your most humble servant.  
I should have persuaded you to marriage, but to deal ingeniously, I am a little out of arguments that way at this present: 'Tis honourable, there's no question on't; but what more, in good faith I cannot readily tell.   

Madam,  
TO tell you that neither my misfortunes nor my sins did draw from me ever so many sighs as my departure from you has done, and that there are yet tears in mine eyes left undried for it; or that melancholy has so deeply seized me, that colds and diseases hereafter shall not need above half their force to destroy me, would be I know superfluous and vain, since so great a goodness as yours, cannot but have out-beleeved already what I can write.  
He never knew you that will not think the loss of your Company, greater than the Imperialists can all this time the loss of all their Companies; and he shall never know you that can think it greater than I, who though I never had neither wisdom nor wit enough to admire you to your worth, yet had my Judgement ever so much right in it, as to admire you above all. And thus he says that dares swear he is  
Your most devoted servant.   

Madam,  
THe distrust I have had of not being able to write to you any thing which might pay the charge of reading, has persuaded me to forbear kissing your hands at this distance: So, like Women that grow proud, because they are chaste; I thought I might be negligent, because I was not troublesome. And, were I not safe in your goodness, I should be (Madam) in your judgement; which is too just to value little observances, or think them necessary to the right honouring my Lady.  
Your Ladyship I make no doubt, will take into consideration, that superstition hath ever been fuller of Ceremony than the true worship. When it shall concern any part of your real service, and I not throw by all respects whatsoever to manifest my devotion, take what revenge you please. Undo me Madam: Resume my best Place and Title; and let me be no longer.  
Your humble servant.   

Madam,  
BY the same reason the Ancients made no sacrifice to death, should your Ladyship send me no Letters; since there has been no return on my side. But the truth is, the place affords nothing: all our days are (as the Women here) alike: and the difference of Fair, does rarely show itself; Such great State do Beauty and the Sun keep in these parts. I keep company with my own Horses (Madam) to avoid that of the men; and by this you may guess how great an enemy to my living contentedly my Lady is, whose conversation has brought me to so fine a diet, that, wheresoever I go, I must starve: all days are tedious, companies troublesome, and Books themselves (Feasts heretofore) no relish in them. Finding you to be the cause of all this, Excuse me (Madam) if I resent: and continue peremptory in the resolution I have taken to be  
Madam, during life, Your humblest Servant,   

Madam,  
BUt that I know your goodness is not mercenary, and that you receive thanks, either with as much trouble as men ill news, or with as much wonder as Virgins unexpected Love, this letter should be full of them. A strange proud return you may think I make you (Madam) when I tell you, it is not from every body I would be thus obliged; and that if I thought you did me not these favours because you love me; I should not love you because you do me these favours. This is not language for one in Affliction, I confess, and upon whom it may be at this present, a cloud is breaking; but finding not within myself I have deserved that storm; I will not make it greater by apprehending it.  
After all, lest (Madam) you should think I take your favours as Tribute; to my great grief, I here declare, that the services I shall be able to render you, will be no longer Presents, but payments of Debts; since I can do nothing for you hereafter, which I was not obliged to do before.  
Madam, Your most humble and faithful servant.   

My Noble Friend.  
THat you have overcome the danger of the Land and of the Sea, is news most welcome to us, and with no less joy received amongst us than if the King of Sweden had the second time overcome Tilley, and again past the Mien and the Rhine. Nor do we in this look more upon ourselves and private interests, then on the public, since in your safety both were comprised. And though you had not had about you the affairs and secrets of State, yet to have left your own person upon the way, had been half to undo our poor Island, and the loss must have been lamented with the tears of a whole Kingdom.  
But you are now beyoud all our fears, and have nothing to take heed on yourself, but fair Ladies. A pretty point of security; and such a one as all Germany cannot afford. We here converse with Northern Beauties, that had never heat enough to kindle a spark in any man's breast, where heaven had been first so merciful, as to put in a reasonable soul.  
There is nothing either fair or good in this part of the world; and I cannot name the thing can give me any content, but the thought that you enjoy enough otherwhere: I having ever been since I had the first honour to know you,  
Yours, more than his own.   

My Lord,  
TO persuade one that has newly shipwrecked upon a Coast to embark suddenly for the same place again, or your Lordship to seek that content you now enjoy in the innocence of a solitude, among the disorders and troubles of a Court, were I think a thing the King himself (and Majesty is no ill Orator) would find some difficulty to do. And yet when I consider that great soul of yours, like a Spider, working all inwards, and sending forth nothing, but like the Cloister'd Schoolmens Divinity, threads fine and unprofitable: if I thought you would not suspect my being serious all this while, for what I should now say, I would tell you that I cannot but be as bold with you as your Ague is, and for a little time, whether you will or not entertain you scurvily.  
When I consider you look (to me) like— I cannot but think it as odd a thing, as if I should see Van Dike with all his fine colours and Pencils about him, his Frame, and right Light, and every thing in order, and yet his hands tied behind him: and your Lordship must excuse me if upon it I be as bold.  
The wisest men, and greatest States have made no scruple to make use of brave men whom they had laid by with some disgrace▪ nor have those brave men so laid by, made scruple, or thought it a disgrace to serve again, when they were called to it afterwards.  
These general motives of the State and Common good, I will not so much as once offer up to your Lordship's consideration, though (as 'tis fit) they have still the upper end: yet, like great Oleoes, they rather make a show then provoke Appetite. There are two things which I shall not be ashamed to propound to you, as ends; since the greater part of the wise men of the world have not been ashamed to make them theirs: and if any has been found to contemn them, it hath been strongly to be suspected that either they could not easily attain to them, or else that the readiest way to attain to them was to contemn them. These two are Honour and Wealth: and though you stand possessed of both of them, yet is the first in your hands like a sword, which, if not through negligence, by mischance hath taken rust, and needs a little clearing; and it would be much handsomer a present to posterity, if you yourself in your life time wipe it off.  
For your Estate (which it may be had been more had it not been too much) though it is true that it is so far from being contemptible, that it is Nobly competent, yet must it be content to undergo the same fate greater states (Commonwealths themselves) have been & are subject to: which is, when it comes to be divided in itself, not to be considerable. Both Honour and Estate are too fair and sweet Flowers, to be without Prickles, or to be gathered without some scratches.  
And now (my Lord) I know you have nothing to urge but a kind of incapability in yourself to the service of this State; when indeed you have made the only bar you have, by imagining you have one▪  
I confess (though) had vice so large an Empire in the Court, as heretofore it has had, or were the times so dangerous that to the living well there, wise conduct were more necessary than virtue itself; Your Lordship would have reason (with Aesop's countrey-mouse) to undervalue all change of condition; since a quiet-mediocrity is still to be preferred before a troubled superfluity: but these things are now no more: and if at any time they have threatened that Horizon, like great clouds, either they are fallen of themselves to the ground, or else, upon the appearing of the Sun (such a Prince as ours is) they have vanished, and left behind them clear and fair days. To descend to parts, envy is so lessened, that it is almost lost into virtuous emulation, every man trusting the King's judgement so far, that he knows no better measure of his own merit, than his reward. The little word behind the back, and undoing whisper, which, like pulling of a sheat-rope at Sea, slackens the sail, and makes the gallantest ship stand still; that that heretofore made the faulty and the innocent alike guilty, is a thing, I believe, now so forgot; or at least so unpractized, that those that are the worst, have leisure to grow good, before any will take notice they have been otherwise, or at least divulge it.  
'Tis true, Faction there is, but 'tis as true, that it is as winds are, to clear, and keep places free from corruption; the oppositions being as harmless, as that of the meeting-tides under the bridge, whose encounter makes it but more easy for him that is to pass. To be a little pleasant in my instances; The very women have suffered reformation, and wear through the whole Court their faces as little disguised now, as an honest man's actions should be, and if there be any have suffered themselves to be gained by their servants, their ignorance of what they granted may well excuse them from the shame of what they did. So that it is more than possible to be great and good: and we may safely conclude, if there be some that are not so exact, as much as they fall short of it, just so much they have gone from the great Original, God; and from the best Copies of him on earth, the King and the Queen.  
To conclude, If those accidents or disasters which make men grow less in the world (as some such, my Lord, have happened to you) were inevitable as death, or, when they were once entered upon us, there were no cure for them; examples of others would satisfy me for yours; but since there have been that have delivered themselves from their ills, either by their good Fortune, or Virtue, 'twould trouble me that my friends should not be found in that number, as much as if one should bring me a Catalogue of those that truly honoured my Lord of— and I should not find among the first,  
Your humble Servant,   

To Mr. Henry German, in the beginning of PARLIAMENT, 1640.  
Sir,  
THat it is fit for the King to do something extraordinary at this present, is not only the opinion of the wise, but the expectation. Men observe him more now then at other times: for Majesty in an Eclipse, like the Sun, draws eyes that would not so much as have looked towards it, if it had shined out, and appeared like itself. To lie still now, would, at the best, show but a calmness of mind, not a magnanimity; since in matter of government, to think well (at any time, much less in a very active) is little better than to dream well. Nor must he stay to act till his people desire, because 'tis thought nothing relishes else: for therefore hath nothing relished with them, because the King hath for the most part stayed till they have desired; done nothing but what they have or were petitioning for. But, that the King should do, will not be so much the question, as what he should do. And certainly, for a King to have right counsel given him, is at all times strange, and at this present impossible. His party for the most part (I would that were modestly said, and it were not all) have so much to do for their own preservation, that they cannot (without breaking a law in nature) intent another's. Those that have courage have not perchance innocence, and so dare not show themselves in the King's business; and if they have innocence, they want parts to make themselves considerable; so consequently the things they undertake. Then, in Court, they give much counsel, as they believe the King inclined, determine his good by his desires: which is a kind of setting the Sun by the Dial, Interest which cannot erre, by passions which may.  
In going about to show the King a Cure, now a man should first plainly show him the disease. But to Kings, as to some kind of Patients, it is not always proper to tell how ill they be: and it is too like a Country clown not to show the way, unless he know from whence, and discourse of things before.  
King's may be mistaken, and Councillors corrupted; but true interest alone (saith Monsieur de Rohan) cannot err. It were not amiss then to find out the Interest: for setting down right principles before conclusions, is weighing the scales before we deal out the commodity.  
Certainly the great interest of the King is, A union with his People, and whosoever hath told him otherwise (as the Scripture saith of the devil) was a seducer from the first. If there ever had been any one Prince in the whole world that made a felicity in this life, and left fair Fame after death, without the love of his Subjects, there were some colour to despise it.  
There was not among all our Princes a greater Courtier of the People then Richard the third, not so much out of fear, as out of wisdom. And, shall the worst of our Kings have striven for that? and shall not the best? (it being an Angelical thing to gain love.)  
There are 2. things in which the people expect to be satisfied; Religion, and Justice: nor can this be done by any little acts, but by Royal and Kingly resolutions.  
If any shall think that by dividing the factions (a good rule at other times) he shall master the rest now, he will be strangely deceived: for in the beginning of things That would do much, but not when whole Kingdoms are resolved. Of those now that lead these parties, if you could take off the major number, the lesser would govern, and do the same things still: nay, if you could take off all, they would set up one, and follow him.  
And of how great consequence it is for the King to resume this right, and be the author himself, let any body judge: since as Cumneus said, those that have the art to please the People, have commonly the power to raise them.  
To do things so that there shall remain no jealousy, is very necessary, and is no more than really reforming, that is, pleasing them. For to do things that shall grieve hereafter, and yet pretend love (amongst lovers themselves, where there is easiest faith) will not be accepted. It will not be enough for the King to do what they desire, but he must do something more: I mean (by doing more) doing something of his own, as throwing away things they call not for, or giving things they expected not. And when they see the King doing the same things with them, it will take away all thought and apprehension that he thinks the things they have done already ill.  
Now if the King ends the differences, and takes away suspect for the future, the case will fall out to be no worse then when two duelists enter the Field, where the worsted party (the other having no ill opinion of him) hath his sword given him again (without further hurt after he is in the others power.) But otherwise it is not safe to imagine what may follow: for the people are naturally not valiant, and not much Cavalier. Now it is the nature of Cowards to hurt where they can receive none. They will not be content (while they fear and have the upper hand) to fetter only Royalty, but perchance (as timorous spirits use) will not think themselves safe while that is at all. And possibly, this is the present state of things.  
In this great work (at least to make it appear perfect and lasting to the Kingdom) it is necessary the Queen really join; for if she stand aloof, there will still be suspicions: it being a received opinion in the world, that she hath a great interest in the King's favour and power. And to invite her, she is to consider with herself, whether such great virtues and eminent excellencies (though they be highly admired & valued by those that know her) ought to rest satisfied with so narrow a payment as the estimation of a few? And whether it be not more proper for a great Queen to arrive at universal honour, and love, then private esteem and value.  
Then, how becoming a work, for the sweetness and softness of her Sex, is composing of differences, and uniting hearts? and how proper for a Queen, reconciling King and People?  
There is but one thing remains, which whispered abroad, busies the King's mind much (if not disturbs it) in the midst of these great Resolutions, and that is, The preservation of some servants, whom he thinks somewhat hardly torn from him of late: which is of so tender a nature; I shall rather propound something about it, then resolve it.  
The first Quaere will be, Whether as things now stand (Kingdoms in the balance) the King is not to follow nature, where the conservation of the more general still commands and governs the less. As Iron by particular sympathy sticks to the loadstone, but yet if it be joined with a great body of Iron, it quits those particular affections to the loadstone, and moves with the other, to the greater, the common Country.  
The second will be, Whether, if he could preserve those ministers, they can be of any use to him hereafter? since no man is served with a greater prejudice, than he that employs suspected instruments, or not beloved, though able and deserving in themselves.  
The third is, Whether, to preserve them, there be any other way then for the King to be first right with his people? since the rule in Philosophy must ever hold good, nihil dat quod non habet. Before the King have power to save, he must have power.  
Lastly, Whether the way to preserve this power be not to give it away? For the people of England have ever been like wantoness, which pull and tug as long as the princes have pulled w●th them, as you may see in Hen. 3. King John, Edw. 2. and indeed, all the troublesome and unfortunate reigns; but when they have let it go, they come and put it into their hands again, that they may play on: as you may see in Queen Elizabeth.  
I will conclude with a prayer (not that I think it needs at this present: Prayers are to keep us from what may be, as well as to preserve us from what is) That the King be neither too insensible of what is without him, nor too resolved from what is within him. To be sick of a dangerous sickness, and find no pain, cannot but be with loss of understanding ('tis an Aphorism of Hypocrates) and on the other side, Opiniastrie is a sullen Porter, and (as it was wittily said of Constancy) shuts out oftentimes, Better things than it lets in.  
FINIS.   

AN ACCOUNT OF RELIGION BY REASON. A Discourse upon Occasion presented to the Earl of Dorset.  
By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
Printed by his own Copy.  Lucret. pag. 227. 
Tentat enim dubiam mentem rationis egestas.  
LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1646.   

The Epistle.  
I Send you here (my Lord) that Discourse enlarged, which frighted the Lady into a cold sweat, and which had like to have made me an Atheist at Court, and your Lordship no very good Christian. I am not ignorant that the fear of Socinianism at this time, renders every man that offers to give an account of Religion by Reason, suspected to have none at all: yet I have made no scruple to run that hazard, not knowing why a man should not use the best Weapon his Creator hath given him for his defence. That Faith was by the Apostles both highly exalted, and severely enjoined, is known to every man, and this upon excellent grounds; for it was both the easiest and best way of converting: the other being tedious, and almost useless: for but few among thousands are capable of it, and those few not capable at all times of their life, Judgement being required. Yet the best servant our Saviour ever had upon Earth, was so far from neglecting or contemning Reason, that his Epistles were admired, even by those that embraced not the Truths he delivered. And indeed, had the Fathers of the Church only bid men believe, and not told them why, they had slept now un-Sainted in their Graves, and as much benighted with Oblivion, as the ordinary Parish-Priests of their own Age.  
That man is deceivable, is true; but what part within him is not likelier than his Reason? For as Manilius said, 
Nam neque decipitur ratio nec decipit unquam.   
And how unlikely is it that that which gives us the Prerogative above other Creatures, and wholly entitles us to future happiness, should be laid aside, and not used to the acquiring of it.  
But by this time (my Lord) you find how apt those which have nothing to do themselves, are to give others trouble. I shall only therefore let you know that your Commands to my Lord of Middlesex are performed; and that when you have fresh ones, you cannot place them where they will be more willingly received, then by  
Bath, Sept. 2. Your humble Servant, John Suckling.   

A Discourse by Sir John Suckling, Knight.  
AMong the truths (my Lord) which we receive, none more reasonably commands our belief, than those which by all men, at all times have been assented to. In this number and highest I place this great one, that there is a Deity; which the whole world hath been so eager to embrace, that rather than it would have none at all, it hath too often been contented with a very mean one.  
That there should be a great Disposer and Orderer of things, a wise Rewarder and Punisher of good and evil, hath appeared so equitable to men▪ that by instinct they have concluded it necessary; Nature (which doth nothing in vain) having so far imprinted it in us all, that should the envy of Predecessors deny the secret to Succeders, they yet would find it out. Of all those little ladders with which we seal heaven, and climb up to our Maker, that seems to me not the worst, of which man is the first step. For but by examining how I, that could contribute nothing to mine own being, should be here, I come to ask the same question for my Father, and so am led in a direct line to a last Producer, that must be more then man. For if man made man, Why died not I when my Father died? since according to that Maxim of the Philosophers, the cause taken away, the effect does not remain. Or if the first man gave himself being, why hath he it not still? Since it were unreasonable to imagine any thing could have power to give itself life, that had no power to continue it. That there is then a God, will not be so much the dispute, as what this God is, or how to be worshipped, is that which hath troubled poor mortals from the first, nor are they yet in quiet. So great has been the diversity, that some have almost thought God was no less delighted with variety in his service, than he was pleased with it in his works. It would not be amiss to take a survey of the world from its cradle; and with Varro, divide it into three Ages: the Unknown, the Fabulous, and the Historical.  
The first was a black night, and discovered nothing: the second was a weak and glimmering light, representing things imperfectly and falsely: the last (more clear) left handsome monuments to posterity. The unknown I place in the age before the Flood, for that Deluge swept away things as well as men, and left not so much as footsteps to trace them by. The fabulous began after the Flood; in this time Godheads were cheap, & men not knowing where to choose better, made Deities one of another. Where this ended, the historical took beginning: for men began to engrave in pillars, and to commit to Letters, as it were by joint consent: for the three great Epoches or Terms of Account were all established within the space of 30. years: The Grecians reckoning from their Olympiades': The Romans from the building of their City: and the Babylonians from their King Salmonassar. To bring into the scale with Christian Religion any thing out of the first Age, we cannot; because we know nothing of it.  
And the second was so fabulous, that those which took it up afterwards, smiled at it as ridiculous and false (which though was easier for them to do then to show a true.) In the historical, it improved, and grew more refined: but here the Fathers entered the field, and so clearly gained the victory, that I should say nothing in it, did I not know it still to be the opinion of good wits, that the particular Religion of Christians has added little to the general Religion of the World. Let us take it then in its perfecter estate, and look upon it in that age which was made glorious by the bringing forth of so many admirable spirits, and this was about the 80. Olympiad, in the year of the world 3480. for in the space of an 100 years, flourished almost all that Greece could boast of, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Architas, Isocrates, Pythagoras, Epicurus, Heraclitus, Xenophon, Zeno, Anaxagoras, Democritus, Demosthenes, Parmenides, Zenocrates, Theophrastes, Empedocles, Tymaeus, with divers others, Orators and Poets. Or rather (for they had their Religion one from another, and not much different) let us take a view of it in that Century in which Nature (as it were to oppose the Grecian insolence) brought forth that happy birth of Roman wits: Varro, Cicero, Caesar, Livy, Sallust, Virgil, Horace, Vitruvius, Ovid, Pliny, Cato, Marcus Brutus, and this was from Quintus Servilius his Consulship to that of Augustus, 270. years after the other. And to say truth, a great part of our Religion, either directly or indirectly hath been professed by Heathens; which I conceive not so much an exprobration to it, as a confirmation; it being no derogating from truth, to be warranted by common consent.  
First then, the Creation of the world is delivered almost the same in the Phoenician stories with that in Moses; from this the Grecians had their Chaos, and Ovid the beginning of his Metamorphosis. That All things were made by God, was held by Plato, and others; that darkness was before light, by Thales; that the Stars were made by God, by Aratus; that life was infused into things by the breath of God, Virgil; that Man was made of dust, Hesied, and Homer; that the first life of man was in simplicity and nakedness, the Egyptians taught: and from thence the Poets had their Golden Age. That in the first times men's lives lasted a thousand years, Berosus, and others: that something divine was seen amongst men, till that the greatness of our sins gave them cause to remove, Catullus: and this he that writes the story of Columbus, reports from the Indians of a great Deluge, almost all. But to the main, they hold one God, and though multiplicity hath been laid to their charge, yet certainly the clearer spirits understood these petty Gods as things, not as Deities; second causes, and several virtues of the great power: by Neptune, water; Juno, air; by Dispater, earth; by Vulcan, fire; and sometimes one God signified many things, as Jupiter the whole world, the whole heaven; and sometimes many gods, one thing, as Ceres, Juno magna, the earth. They concluded those to be vices which we do; nor was there much difference in their virtues; only Christians have made ready belief the highest, which they would hardly allow to be any. They held rewards for the good, and punishments for the ill; had their Elysium, and their hell; and that they thought the pains eternal there, is evident, in that they believed from thence was no return. They proportioned sufferings hereafter, to offences here; as in Tantalus, Sisyphus, and others, among which that of Conscience) the worm that never dies) was one, as in the Vultures gnawing of Promotheus heart, and Virgil's ugliest of Furies thundering in Pirithous ear, was not obscurely shown; and yet nearer us, they held the number of the Elect to be but small, and that there should be a last day in which the World should perish by fire. Lastly they had their Priests, Temples, Altars.  
We have seen now the Parallel, let us inquire whether those things they seem to have in common with us, we have not in a more excellent manner, and whether the rest in which we differ from all the world, we take not up with reason. To begin then with their Jupiter (for all before were but little stealths from Moses works) how much more like a Deity are the actions our stories declare our God to have done, than what the Ethnic Authors deliver of theirs? How excellently elevated are our descriptions of him? Theirs looking as if they knew that power only by their fears, as their Statues erected to him declare: for when he was Capitolinus, he appeared with thunder; when Latiaris, besmeared with blood; when Feretrius, yet more terrible: We may guess what their conceptions were, by the worship they gave him: How full of cruelty were their sacrifices? it being received almost through the whole world, that gods were pleased with the blood of men: and this custom neither the Grecian Wisdom, nor Roman Civility abolished, as appears by sacrifices to Bacchus.  
Then the ceremonies of Liber Pater, and Ceres, how obscene? and those days which were set a part for the honour of the gods, celebrated with such shows as Cato himself was ashamed to be present at. On the contrary, our services are such as not only Cato, but God himself may be there: we worship him that is the purest Spirit, in purity of spirit; and did we not believe what the Scriptures deliver from himself, yet would our reason persuade us that such an Essence could not be pleased with the blood of beasts, or delighted with the steam of fat: and in this particular, Christians have gone beyond all others except the Mahometans; besides whom there has been no Nation that had not sacrifice, and was not guilty of this pious cruelty.  
That we have the same virtues with them is very true; but who can deny that those virtues have received additions from Christianity, conducing to men's better living together? revenge of injuries Moses both took himself, and allowed by the Law to others; Cicero and Aristotle placed it in virtue's quarter: We extol patient bearing of injuries; and what quiet the one, what trouble the other would give the world, let the indifferent judge. Their justice only took care that men should not do wrong: ours that they should not think it, the very coveting severely forbidden: and this holds too in chastity, desire of a woman unlawfully being as much a breach of the commandment, as their enjoying, which showed not only the Christians care, but wisdom to prevent ill, who provided to destroy it where it was weakest in the Cradle, and declared, He was no less than a God which gave them these Laws; for had he been but man, he never would have provided or taken care for what he could not look into, the hearts of Men, and what he could not punish, their thoughts. What Charity can be produced answerable to that of Christians? Look upon the Primitive times, and you shall find that (as if the whole World had been but a private Family) they sent from Province to Province, and from Places far distant, to Relieve them they never saw nor knew.  
Now for the happiness which they proposed: if they take it as the Heathens understood it, it was an Elysium, a place of blessed shades, at best but a handsome retirement from the troubles of this World: if according to the duller Jews, Feast and Banquet; (for it is evident that the Sadduces, who were great observers of the Mosaical Law, had but faint thoughts of any thing to come) there being in Moses books no promises but of Temporal blessings, and (if any) an obscure mention of eternity. The Mahometans are no less sensual, making the renewing of youth, high Feasts, a woman with great eyes, and dressed up with a little more fancy, the last and best good.  
Then the hell; How gentle with the Heathens? but the rolling of a stone, filling of a sieve with water, sitting before Banquets, and not daring to touch them, exercising the trade and businesses they had on earth; with the Mahometans, but a Purgatory acted in the grave, some pains inflicted by a bad Angel, and those qualified and mitigated too, by an assisting good one. Now for the Jews, as they had no hopes, so they had no fears; so that if we consider it rightly, neither their punishments were great enough to deter them from doing ill, nor their rewards high enough to invite men to strictness of life; for since every man is able to make as good a heaven of his own, it were unreasonable to persuade him to quit that certain happiness for an uncertainty: whereas Christians with as much more noble consideration both in their heaven and hell took care not only for the body but the soul, and for both above man's apprehension.  
The strangest, though most Epidemical disease of all Religions, has been an imagination men have had, that the imposing painful and difficult things upon themselves, was the best way to appease the Deity, grossly thinking the chief service and delight of the Creator to consist in the tortures and sufferings of the Creature. How laden with chargeable and unnecessary Ceremonies the Jews were, their feasts, circumcisions, sacrifices, great Sabbaths, and little Sabbaths, fasts, burials, indeed almost all their worship, sufficiently declare: and that the Mahometans are much more infected, appears by the cutting of the Praepuces, wearing iron rings in the skin of their Fore parts, lancing themselves with knives, putting out their eyes upon the sight of their Prophet's Tomb, and the like. Of these last we can show no patterns amongst us: for though there be such a thing as whipping of the body, yet it is but in some parts of Christendom, and there perchance too, more smiled at then practised. Our Religion teacheth us to bear afflictions patiently when they fall upon us, but not to force them upon ourselves: for we believe the God we serve, wise enough to choose his own service, and therefore presume not to add to his commands. With the Jews it is true we have something in common, but rather the names than things: Our Fasts being more the medicines of the body, than the punishments of it, spiritual, as our Sabbaths; both good men's delight, not their trouble.  
But least this discourse should swell into a greatness, such as would make it look rather like a defence which I had laboured to get, than an account which I always carry about me; I will now briefly examine, whether we believe not with reason those things we have different from the rest of the world. First then, for the persuasion of the truth of them in general: let us consider what they were that conveyed them to us: men (of all the world) the most unlikely to plot the cozenage of others, being themselves but simple people, without ends, without designs, seeking neither honour, riches, nor pleasure, but suffering (under the contrary) ignominy, poverty, and misery; enduring death itself, nay court it: all which are things distasteful to nature, and such as none, but men strangely assured, would have undergone. Had they feigned a story, certainly they would not in it have registered their own faults, nor delivered him whom they propounded as a God, ignominiously crucified: add to this the progress their doctrine made abroad, miraculous above all other either before or since: other Religions were brought in with the sword, power, forcing a custom, which by degrees usurped the place of truth: this even power itself opposing. For the Romans (contrary to their custom which entertained all Religions kindly) persecuted this: which by its own strength so possessed the hearts of men, that no age, sex, or condition, refused to lay down life for it. A thing so rare in other Religions, that among the Heathens, Socrates was the sole martyr: and the Jews (unless of foam few under Manasses and Antiochus) have not to boast of any. If we cast our eyes upon the healing of the blind, curing the lame, redeeming from the grave, and but with a touch or word, we must conclude them done by more than humane power, and if by any other, by no ill; These busy not themselves so much about the good of man: and this Religion not only forbids by precept the worship of wicked spirits, but in fact destroys it wheresoever it comes. Now as it is clear by Authors impartial (as being no Christians) that strange things were done, so it is plain they were done without imposture. Delusions eat the light; These were all acted openly, the very enemies both of the master and disciples daily looking on. But let us descend to those more principal particulars, which so much trouble the curious wits: these I take to be the Incarnation, Passion, Resurrection, and Trinity.  
For the first, That man should be made without man, why should we wonder more at it in that time of the world, then in the beginning? much easier, certainly, it was here, because nearer the natural way; Woman being a more prepared matter then earth. Those great truths, and mysteries of salvation would never have been received without miracles; and where could they more opportunely be shown, then at his entrance into the world, where they might give credit to his following actions and doctrine? So far it is from being against my reason to think him thus borne, that it would be against it to believe him otherwise; it being not fit that the Son of God should be produced like the race of men. That humane nature may be assumed by a Deity, the enemy of Christians, Julian, confirms; and instances (himself) in AEsculapius, whom he will have descend from heaven in mortal shape, to teach us here below the Art of Physic. Lastly, That God has lived with men, has been the general fancy of all Nations: every particular having this tradition; that the Deity at some time or other conversed amongst men. Nor is it contrary to reason to believe him residing in glory above, and yet incarnate here: So in man himself, the soul is in heaven when it remains in the flesh, for it reacheth with its eye the Sun; why may not God then being in heaven, be at the same time with us in the flesh? since the soul without the body would be able to do much more than with it, and God much more than the soul, being the soul of the soul. But it may be urged as more abstruse, how all in heaven, and all in earth? Observe man speaking (as you have done seeing) Is not the same speech, at the instant it is uttered, all in every place? Receives not each particular ear, alike, the whole? and shall not God be much more Ubiquitary than the voice of man? For the Passion (to let alone the necessity of satisfying divine Justice this way, which, whosoever reads more particularly our Divines, shall find rationally enforced) we find: the Heathen had something near to this (though, as in the rest, imperfect) for they sacrificed single men for the sins of the whole City or Country. Porphyrius having laid this foundation: That the supreme happiness of the soul is to see God, and that it cannot see him unpurified, concludes, That there must be a way for the cleansing of Mankind; and proceeding to find it out, he tells that Arts and Sciences serve but to set our wits right in the knowledge of things, and cleanse us not enough to come to God: the like judgement he gives of purging by Theurgy, and by the mysteries of the Sun; because those things extend but to some few, whereas this cleansing aught to be universal for the benefit of all mankind: in the end resolves that this cannot be done, but by one of the three Inbeings, which is the word they use to express the Trinity by. Let us see what the divinest of the Heathens (and his Master Plato) delivers, to admiration, and as it were Prophetically, to this purpose. That a truly just man be shown (saith he) it is necessary that he be spoiled of his Ornaments, so that he must be accounted by others a wicked man, be scoffed at, put in prison, beaten, nay be crucified: and certainly for him that was to appear the highest example of patience, it was necessary to undergo the highest trial of it, which was an undeserved death.  
Concerning the Resurrection, I conceive the difficulty to lie not so much upon our Lord, as us; it being with easy Reason imagined, that he which can make a body, can lay it down, and take it up again. There is something more that urges and presses us: for in our estate we promise ourselves hereafter, there will be no need of Food, Copulation, or Excrement, to what purpose should we have a mouth, belly, or less comely parts? it being strange to imagine God to have created man, for a moment of time, a body consisting of particulars, which should be useless to all eternity. Besides, Why should we desire to carry that along with us which we are ashamed of here, and which we find so great a trouble, that very wise men (were it not forbidden) would throw it off before it were worn out? To this I should answer, that as the body is partner in well or ill doing, so it is but just it should share in the rewards or punishments hereafter: and though by reason of sin we blush at it here, yet when that shall cease to be, why we should be more ashamed than our first Parents were, or some in the last discovered parts of the World are now, I cannot understand. Who knows but these unsightly parts shall remain for good use, and that putting us in mind of our imperfect estate here, they shall serve to increase our content and happiness there? What kind of thing a glorified body shall be, how changed, how refined, who knows? Nor is it the meanest invitement to me now, to think that my estate there, is above my capacity here. There remains that which does not only quarrel with the likelihood of a Resurrection, but with the possibility; alleging, that man corrupted into dust, is scattered almost into infinite, or devoured by an irrational creature, goes into aliment, and grows part of it; then that creature perchance is made like food to another: And truly did we doubt of God's power, or not think him omnipotent, this were a Labyrinth we should be lost in: but it were hard, when we see every petty Chemic in his little shop bring into one body things of the same kind, though scattered and disordered; that we should not allow the great Maker of all things to do the same in his own Universe.  
There remains only the mystery of the Trinity; to the difficulty of which, the poverty and narrowness of words have made no small addition.  
St. Austin plainly says the word Person was taken up by the Church for want of a better; Nature, Substance, Essence, Hypostasis, Suppositum, and Persona, have caused sharp disputes amongst the Doctors: at length they are contented to let the three first and three last signify the same thing. By all of them is understood something Complete, Perfect, and Singular: in this only they differ, that Nature, Substance, Essence are communicable ad quid, and ut quo (as they call it) The other are not at all: but enough of this; Those that were the immediate Conveighers of it to us, wrapped it not up in any of these terms. We then hold God to be one, and but one, it being gross to imagine two omnipotents, for then neither would be so; yet since this good is perfectly good, and perfect goodness cannot be without perfect love, nor perfect love without communication, nor to an unequal or created, for than it must be inordinate; We conclude a Second Coeternal though Begotten: nor are these contrary (though they seem to be so) even in created substances, that one thing may come from another, and yet that from whence it comes, not be before that which comes from it; as in the Sun and Light. But in these high mysteries, similitudes may be the best Arguments. In Metaphysics they tell us, that to the constituting of every being, there is a Posse sui esse, from whence there is a Sapientia sui esse, and from these two proceedeth an Amor sui esse: and though these three be distinct, yet they make up one perfect being. Again, and more familiarly; There is a hidden Original of waters in the earth, from this a spring flows up, and of these proceeds a stream: this is but one essence, which knows neither a before, nor an after, but in order, and (that too) according to our considering of it: the Head of a Spring is not a Head, but in respect of the Spring; for if something flowed not from it, it were no Original, Nor the Spring a Spring if it did not flow from something, nor the Stream a Stream but in respect of both: Now all these three are but one Water, and though one is not the other, yet they can hardly be considered one without the other. Now, though I know this is so far from a demonstration, that it is but an imperfect instance (perfect being impossible of infinite by finite things) yet there is a resemblance great enough to let us see the possibility. And here the eye of Reason needed no more the spectacles of Faith, then for these things of which we make sympathy the cause, as in the Loadstone, or antipathy, of which every man almost gives instance from his own nature: nor is it here so great a wonder that we should be ignorant; for this is distant and removed from sense; these near and subject to it; and it were stranger for me to conclude that God did not work ad extra, thus one and distinct within himself, because I cannot conceive how begotten, how proceeding; then if a Clown should say the hand of a Watch did not move, because he could not give an account of the wheels within. So far is it from being unreasonable, because I do not understand it, that it would be unreasonable I should: For why should a created substance comprehend an uncreated, A circumscribed and limited, an uncircumscribed and unlimited? And this I observe in those great Lovers and Lords of Reason, quoted by the Fathers, Zoroastres, Trismegistus, Plato, Numenius, Plotinus, Proclus, Amelius, and Avicen, that when they spoke of this mystery of the Trinity, of which all writ something, and some almost as plainly as Christians themselves, that they discussed it not as they did other things, but delivered them as Oracles which they had received themselves, without dispute.  
Thus much of Christian Profession compared with others: I should now show which (compared within itself) ought to be preferred: but this is the work of every pen, perhaps to the prejudice of Religion itself. This excuse (though) it has, that (like the chief Empire) having nothing to conquer, no other Religion to oppose or dispute against, it hath been forced to admit of Civil wars, and suffer under its own excellency.  
FINIS.   

AGLAURA. PRESENTED At the Private House in Blackfriars, by his Majesty's Servants.  
Written by Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
LONDON, Printed for Tho. Walkley, and are to be sold by Humphrey Moseley, at his shop, at the sign of the Prince's arms in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1646.   

PROLOGUE.  

I'Ve thought upon't; and cannot tell which way  
Ought I can say now, should advance the Play.  
For Plays are either good, or bad; the good,  
(If they do beg) beg to be understood.  
And in good faith, that has as bold a sound,  
As if a Beggar should ask twenty pound.  
— Men have it not about them:  
Then (Gentlemen) if rightly understood,  
The bad do need less Prologue than the good:  
For if it chance the Plot be lame, or blind,  
Ill clothed, deformed throughout, it needs must find  
Compassion,— It is a beggar without Art:—  
But it falls out in pennyworths of Wit,  
As in all bargains else. Men ever get  
All they can in; will have London measure,  
A handful over in their very pleasure.  
And now ye have't; he could not well deny'ee,  
And I dare swear he's scarce a saver by ye.    

Prologue to the Court.  

THose common passions, hopes, and fears, that still,  
The Poets first, and then the Prologues fill  
In this our age, he that writ this, by me,  
Protests against as modest foolery.  
He thinks it an odd thing to be in pain,  
For nothing else, but to be well again.  
Who writes to fear is so; had he not writ,  
You ne'er had been the judges of his wit;  
And when he had, did he but then intent  
To please himself, he sure might have his end  
Without th' expense of hope, and that he had  
That made this Play, although the Play be bad.  
Then Gentlemen be thrifty, save your dooms  
For the next man, or the next Play that comes;  
For smiles are nothing, where men do not care,  
And frowns as little, where they need not fear.    

To the King.  

THis (Sir) to them, but unto Majesty.  
All he has said before, he does deny.  
Yet not to Majesty: that were to bring  
His fears to be, but for the Queen and King,  
Not for yourselves; and that he dares not say:  
Y'are his Sovereigns another way:  
Your souls are Princes, and you have as good  
A title that way, as ye have by blood  
To govern, and here your power's more great  
And absolute, than in the royal Seat.  
There men dispute, and but by Law obey,  
Here is no Law at all, but what ye say.    

Scena Persia.  

King, In love with Aglaura.  
Thersames, Prince, in love with Aglaura.  
Orbella, Queen, at first Mistress to Ziriff: in love with Ariaspes.  
Ariaspes, Brother to the King.  
Ziriff, Otherways Sorannez disguised, Captain of the Guard, in love with Orbella, brother to Aglaura.  
jolas', A Lord of the Council, seeming friend to the Prince, but a Traitor, in love with Semanthe.  
Aglaura, In love with the Prince, but named Mistress to the King.  
Orsames, A young Lord antiplatonique; friend to the Prince.  
Philan, The same.  
Semanthe, In love with Ziriff; platonique.  
Orithie, In love with Thersames.  
Pasithas, A faithful servant.  
Jolinas, Aglaura's waiting-woman.  
Courtiers.  
Huntsmen.  
Priest.  
Guard.    

AGLAURA.  

ACTUS I. SCENA I.  Enter JOLAS', JOLINA. Jolas, 
MArried? and in Diana's Grove!  Jolin. 
So was th'appointment, or my Sense deceived me.  Jolas, 
Married!  
Now by those Powers that tie those pretty knots,  
'Tis very fine, good faith 'tis wondrous fine:  Jolin. 
What is, Brother?  Jolas, 
Why? to marry Sister—  
T'enjoy 'twixt lawful and unlawful thus  
A happiness, steal as 'twere one's own;  
Diana's Grove, sayest thou?— Scratcheth his head.  Jolin. 
That's the place; the hunt once up, and all  
Engaged in the sport, they mean to leave  
The company, and steal unto those thickets,  
Where, there's a Priest attends them;  Jolas, 
And will they lie together think'st thou?  Jolin. 
Is there distinction of sex think you?  
Or flesh and blood?  Jolas, 
True; but the King, Sister!  Jolin. 
But love, Brother!  Jolas, 
Thou sayest well;  
'Tis fine 'tis wondrous fine:  
Diana's Grove—  Jolin. 
Yes, Diana's grove,  
But Brother if you should speak of this now,— (so fast:  Jol. 
Why thou knowst a drowning man holds not a thing Semanthe! she shuns me too: (Enter Semanthe she sees  Jolin. 
The wound festered sure!  (jolas' and goes in again. 
The hurt the boy gave her, when first  
She looked abroad into the world, is not yet cured.  jolas', 
What hurt?  jolin. 
Why, know you not  
She was in love long since with young Zorannes',  
(Aglaura's brother,) and the now Queens betrothed?  jolas', 
Some such slight Tale I'ave heard.  jolin. 
'Slight? she yet does weep, when she but hears him named,  
And tells the prettiest, and the saddest stories  
Of all those civil wars, and those Amours,  
That, trust me both my Lady and myself  
Turn weeping Statues still.  jolas', 
Pish, 'tis not that.  
'Tis Ziriff and his fresh glories here  
Have robbed me of her.  
Since he thus appeared in Court,  
My love has languished worse than Plants in drought.  
But time's a good Physician: come, le's in:  
The King & Queen by this time are come forth. Exeunt.  Enter Servingmen to Ziriff. 1 Seru. 
Yonder's a crowd without, as if some strange  
Sight were to be seen to day here.  2 Seru. 
Two or three with Carbonadoes afore in stead of faces mistook the door for a breach, & at the opening of it, are striving still which should enter first.  3 Seru. 
Is my Lord busy? (Knocks.)  Enter Ziriff as in his Study. 1 Seru. 
My Lord there are some Soldiers without—  Zir. 
Well▪ I will dispatch them presently.  2 Seru. 
Th'ambasssadors from the Cadusians too—  Zir. 
Show them the Gallery.  3 Seru. 
One from the King—  Zir. 
Again? I come, I come. Exeunt Servingmen.  Ziriff solus. 
Greatness, thou vainer shadow of the Prince's beams,  
Begot by mere reflection, nourished in extremes;  
First taught to creep, and live upon the glance,  
Poorly to far, till thine own proper strength  
Bring thee to surfeit of thyself at last.  
How dull a Pageant, would this States-play seem  
To me now; were not my love and my revenge  
Mixed with it?—  
Three tedious Winters have I waited here,  
Like patient Chemists blowing still the coals,  
And still expecting, when the blessed hour  
Would come, should make me master of  
The Court Elixir, Power, for that turns all:  
'Tis in projection now; down, sorrow, down,  
And swell my heart no more, and thou wronged ghost  
Of my dead father, to thy bed again,  
And sleep securely;  
It cannot now be long, for sure Fate must,  
As't has been cruel, so▪ a while be just. Exit.  Enter King and Lords, the Lords entreating for Prisoners. King. 
I say they shall not live; our mercy  
Would turn sin, should we but use it ere:  
Pity, and Love, the bosses only be  
Of government merely for show and ornament.  
Fear is the bit that man's proud will restrains,  
And makes its vice its virtue— See it done.  Enter to them Queen, Aglaura, Ladies, the King addresses himself to Aglaura. 
So early, and so curious in your dress, (fair Mistress?)  
These pretty ambushes and traps for hearts  
Set with such care to day, look like design:  
Speak, Lady, is't a massacre resolved?  
Is conquering one by one grown tedious sport?  
Or is the number of the taken such,  
That for your safety you must kill outright?  Agl. 
Did none do greater mischief (Sir) than I,  
Heaven would not much be troubled with sad story,  
Nor would the quarrel man has to the Stars  
Be kept alive so strongly.  King. 
When he does leave't  
Woman must take it up, and justly too;  
For robbing of the sex and giving all to you.  Agl. 
Their weaknesses you mean and I confess Sir.  King. 
The greatest subjects of their power or glory.  
Such gentle rape thou act'st upon my soul,  
And with such pleasing violence dost force it still;  
That when it should resist, it tamely yields,  
Making a kind of haste to be undone,  
As if the way to victory were loss,  
And conquest came by overthrow.  Enter an Express delivering a Packet upon his knee. The King reads. Qu. 
Pretty! The Queen looking upon a flower in one of the Lady's heads.  
Is it the child of nature, or of some fair hand?  La. 
'Tis as the beauty Madam of some faces,  
Arts issue only.  King. 
Thersames,  
This concerns you most, brought you her picture?  Exp. 
Something made up for her in haste I have. (Presents  King. 
If she does owe no part of this fair dower (the Picture.  
Unto the Painter, she is rich enough.  Agl. 
A kind of merry sadness in this face  
Becomes it much.  King. 
There is indeed, Aglaura,  
A pretty sullenesse dressed up in smiles,  
That says this beauty can both kill, and save.  
How like you her Thersames?  Ther. 
As well as any man can do a house  
By seeing of the portal, here's but a face,  
And faces (Sir) are things I have not studied;  
I have my duty, and may boldly swear.  
What you like best will ever please me most.  King. 
Spoke like Thersames, and my son,  
Come! the day holds fair,  
Let all the Huntsmen meet us in the vale,  
We will uncouple there. Exeunt.  Ariaspes: solus stays behind. Ariasp. 
How odd a thing a crowd is unto me!  
Sure nature intended I should be alone,  
Had not that old doting manmidwife Time  
Slept, when he should have brought me forth▪ I had  
Been so too— Studies and Scratches his head.  
To be borne ne'er, and only near a crown—  Enter Jolas. jol. 
How now my Lord?  
What? walking o'th' tops of Pyramids?  
Whispering yourself away  
Like a denied lover? come! to horse, to horse,  
And I will show you straight a sight shall please you  
More than kind looks from her you dote upon  
After a falling out.  Ariasp. 
Prithee what is't?  jol. 
I'll tell you as I go.— Exeunt.  Enter Huntsmen hollowing and whooping. Hunt. 
Which way? which way?  Enter Thersames, Aglaura muffled. Ther. 
This is the grove 'tis somewhere here within.— Ex.  Enter dogging of them, Ariaspes, Jolas. jol. 
Gently! Gently!  Enter Orsames, Philan, a Huntsman, two Courtiers. Hunts. 
No hurt, my Lord, I hope.  Ors. 
None, none,  
Thou wouldst have warranted it to another,  
If I had broke my neck:  
What? dost think my horse and I show tricks?  
That which way soever he throws me  
Like a tumblers boy I must fall safe?  
Was there a bed of roses there? would I were Eunuch if I had not as leif ha' fall'n in the state, as where I did; the ground was as hard, as if it had been paved with Platonic Ladies hearts, and this unconscionable fellow asks whether I have no hurt; where's my horse.  1 Court. 
Making love to the next mare I think.  2 Court. 
Not the next I assure you,  
he's galloped away, as if all the spurs i▪ th' field  
Were in his sides.  Ors. 
Why there's it▪ the jades in the fashion too.  
Now has done me an injury, he will not come near me.  
Well when I hunt next, may it be upon a starved cow,  
Without a saddle too.  
And may I fall into a saw-pit, and not be taken up, but with suspicion of having been private, with mine own beast there. Now I better consider on't too, Gentlemen, 'tis but the same thing we do at Court; here's every man striving who shall be foremost, and hotly pursuing of what he seldom overtakes, or if he does, it's no great matter.  Phi. 
He that's best horsed (that is best friended) gets in soon, and then all he has to do is to laugh at those thȧt are behind. Shall we help you my Lord?—  Ors 
Prithee do— stay!  
To be in view, is to be in favour,  
Is it not?  Phi. 
Right,  
And he that has a strong faction against him, hunts, upon a cold sent, and may in time come to a loss.  Ors. 
Here's one rides two miles about, while another leaps a ditch and is in before him.  Phi. 
Where note the indirect way's the nearest.  Ors. 
Good again—  Phi. 
And here's another puts on, and falls into a Quagmire, (that is) follows the Court till he has spent all (for your Court quagmire is want of money) there a man is sure to stick and then not one helps him out, if they do not laugh at him.  1 Court. 
What think you of him, that hunts after my rate  
And never sees the Dear?  2 Court. 
Why he is like some young fellow, that follows  
The Court, and never sees the King.  Ors. 
To spur a horse till he is tired, is  Phi. 
To importune a friend till he be weary of you.  Ors. 
For then upon the first occasion y'are thrown off,  
As I was now.  Phi. 
This is nothing to the catching of your horse Orsames.  Ors. 
Thou sayest true, I think he is no transmigrated  
Philosopher, & therefore not likely to be taken with morals.  
Gentlemen— your help, the next I hope will be yours,  
And then 'twill be my turn.— Exeunt.  Enter again married, Thersames, Aglaura, Priest. there's. 
Fear not my Deer, if when Love's diet  
Was bare looks and those stolen too,  
He yet did thrive! what then  
Will he do now? when every night will be  
A feast, and every day fresh revelry.  Agl. 
Will he not surfeit, when he once shall come  
To grosser fare (my Lord) and so grow sick,  
And Love once sick, how quickly will it die?  Ther. 
Ours cannot; 'tis as immortal as the things  
That elemented it, which were our souls:  
Nor can they ere impair in health, for what  
These holy rites do warrant us to do,  
More than our bodies would for quenching thirst▪  
Come let's to horse, we shall be missed,  
For we are envies mark, and Court eyes carry far.  
Your prayers and silence Sir:— to the Priest. Exeunt.  Enter Ariaspes, Jolas. Ari. 
If it succeed? I wear thee here my Jolas—  jol. 
If it succeed? will night succeed the day?  
Or hours one to another? is not his lust  
The Idol of his soul? and was not she  
The Idol of his lust? as safely he might  
Have stolen the Diadem from off his head▪  
And he would less have missed it.  
You now, my Lord, must raise his jealousy,  
Teach it to look through the false optic fear,  
And make it see all double: Tell him the Prince  
Would not have thus presumed, but that he does  
Intent worse yet; and that his crown and life  
Will be the next attempt.  Ari. 
Right, and I will urge  
How dangerous 'tis unto the present state,  
To have the creatures, and the followers  
Of the next Prince (whom all now strive to please)  
Too near about him:  jol. 
What if the malcontents that use  
To come unto him were discovered?  Ari. 
By no means; for 'twere in vain to give  
Him discontent (which too must needs be done)  
If they within him gave't not nourishment.  jol. 
Well▪ I'll away first, for the print's too big  
If we be seen together.— Exit.  Ari. 
I have so fraught this Bark with hope, that it  
Dares venture now in any storm, or weather;  
And if he sink or splits, all's one to me.  
" Ambition seems all things, and yet is none,  
" But in disguise stalks to opinion  
" And fools it into faith, for every thing:  
'Tis not with th'ascending to a Throne,  
As 'tis with stairs, and steps, that are the same;  
For to a Crown, each humour's a degree;  
And as men change, and differ, so must we.  
The name of virtue doth the people please,  
Not for their love to virtue, but their ease,  
And Parrot Rumour I that tale have taught.  
By making love I hold the woman's grace,  
'Tis the Court double key, and entrance gets  
To all the little plots; the fiery spirits  
My love to Arms hath drawn into my faction;  
All, but the minion of the Time, is mine,  
And he shall be, or shall not be at all.  
He that beholds a wing in pieces torn,  
And knows not that to heaven it once did bear  
The high-flowne and selfe-less'ning bird will think  
And call them idle Subjects of the wind:  
When he that has the skill to imp and bind  
These in right places, will thus truth discover;  
That borrowed Instruments do oft convey  
The Soul to her proposed Intents, and where  
Our Stars deny▪ Art may supply— Exit.  Enter Semanthe, Orithie, Orsames, Philan. Sem. 
Think you it is not then  
The little jealousies (my Lord) and fears,  
Joy mixed with doubt, and doubt revived with hope  
That crownes all love with pleasure? these are lost  
When once we come to full fruition;  
Like waking in the morning, when all night  
Our fancy has been fed with some new strange delight.  Ors. 
I grant you, Madam, that the fears, and joys,  
Hopes, and desires, mixed with despairs, and doubts,  
Do make the sport in love; that they are  
The very dogs by which we hunt the Hare;  
But as the dogs would stop, and strait give o'er  
Were it not for the little thing before;  
So would our passions; both alike must be  
Flesh▪ t in the chase.  Ori. 
Will you then place the happiness, but there,  
Where the dull ploughman, and the ploughman's horse  
Can find it out? Shall Souls refined, not know  
How to preserve alive a noble flame,  
But let it die, burn out to appetite?  Sem. 
Love's a Chameleon, and would live on air,  
Physic for Agues, starving is his food.  Ors. 
Why? there's it now! a greater Epicure  
Lives not on earth? my Lord and I have been  
In's Privy kitchen, seen his bills of Fare.  Sem. 
And how, and how my Lord?  Ors. 
A mighty Prince,  
And full of curiosity— Hearts newly slain  
Served up entire, and stuck with little Arrows  
In stead of Cloaves—  Phi. 
Sometimes a cheek plumped up  
With broth, with cream and claret mingled  
For sauce, and round about the dish  
Pomegranate kernels, strewed on leaves of Lilies.  Ors. 
Then will he have black eyes, for those of late  
He feeds on much, and for variety  
The grey—  Phi. 
You forget his covered dishes  
Of Jene-strayes, and Marmalade of Lips,  
Perfumed by breath sweet as the beans first blossoms.  Sem. 
Rare!  
And what's the drink to all this meat, my Lord?  Ors. 
Nothing but pearl dissolved, tears still fresh fetched  
From Lovers eyes, which if they come to be  
Warm in the carriage, are straight cooled with sighs.  Sem. 
And all this rich proportion, perchance  
We Would allow him:  Ors. 
True! but therefore this is but his common diet;  
Only serves  
When his chief Cooks, Liking and Opportunity,  
Are out o'th' way; for when he feasts indeed,  
'Tis there, where the wise people of the world  
Did place the virtues, i'th' middle— Madam.  Ori. 
My Lord there is so little hope we should convert you;  
And if we should, so little got by it,  
That we'll not lose so much upon't as sleep.  
Your Lordship's servants—  Ors. 
Nay Ladies we▪ ll wait upon you to your chambers.  Ph. 
Prithee le's spare the compliment, we shall do no good  Ors. 
By this hand I'll try,  
They keep me fasting▪ and I must be praying. Exeunt.  Aglaura undressing of herself, Jolina. Agl. 
Undress me:—  
Is it not late, jolina?  
It was the longest day, this—  Enter Thersames. Ther. 
Softly, as Death itself comes on,  
When it does steal away the sick man's breath,  
And standers by perceive it not▪  
Have I trod, the way unto these lodgings.  
How wisely do those Powers  
That give us happiness, order it?  
Sending us still fears to bond our joys,  
Which else would overflow and lose themselves:  
See where she sits,  
Like day retired into another world.  
Dear mine! where all the beauty man admires  
In scattered pieces, does united lie.  
Where sense does feast, and yet where sweet desire  
Lives in its longing, like a Miser's eye,  
That never knew, nor saw satiety:  
Tell me▪ by what approaches must I come  
To take in what remains of my felicity?  Agl. 
Needs there any new ones, where the breach  
Is made already? you are entered here—  
Long since (Sir) here and I have given up all.  Ther. 
All but the Fort, and in such wars, as these,  
Till that be yielded up there is no peace,  
Nor triumph to be made; come! undo, undo,  
And from these envious clouds slide quick  
Into Love's proper Sphere, thy bed:  
The weary traveller, whom the busy Sun  
Hath vexed all day, and scorch▪ d almost to tinder.  
Near longed for night as I have long▪ d for this.  
What rude hand is that? One knocks hastily.  
Go jolina, see but let none enter— jolina goes to the door.  jol. 
'Tis Zeriff, Sir.  Ther. 
— Oh—  
Something of weight hath fall'n out it seems,  
Which in his zeal he could not keep till morning.  
But one short minute, Dear, into that chamber.—  Enter Ziriff. 
How now?  
Thou startest, as if thy sins had met thee,  
Or thy Father's ghost; what news man?  Zir. 
Such as will send the blood of hasty messages  
Unto the heart, and make it call  
All that is man about you into council?  
Where's the Princess, Sir?  Ther. 
Why? what of her?  Zir. 
The King must have her—  Ther. 
How?  Zir. 
The King must have her (Sir)  Ther. 
Though fear of worse makes ill, still relish better  
And this look handsome in our friendship, Ziriff,  
Yet so severe a preparation—  
There needed not: come, come! what ist?  Ziriff leads him to the door, and shows him a Guard. 
A Guard! Thersames,  
Thou art lost; betrayed  
By faithless and ungrateful man,  
Out of a happiness:— He steps between the door and him and draws.  
The very thought of that,  
Will lend my anger so much noble justice,  
That wert thou master of as much fresh life,  
As thoust been of villainy, it should not serve,  
Nor stock thee out, to glory, or repent  
The least of it.  Zir. 
Put up: put up! such unbecoming anger  
I have not seen you wear before.  
What? draw upon your friend, Discovers himself.  
Do you believe me right now?—  Ther. 
I scarce believe mine eyes:— Zorannes'.  Zir. 
The same, but how preserved, or why  
Thus long disguised to you a freer hour must speak:  
That y'are betrayed is certain, but by whom,  
Unless the Priest himself, I cannot guess  
More than the marriage, though he knows not of:  
If you now send her on these early summons  
Before the sparks are grown into a flame,  
You to redeem th'offence, or make it less;  
And (on my life) yet his intents are fair,  
And he will but besiege, not force affection.  
So you gain time; if you refuse, there's but  
One way; you know his power and passion.  Ther. 
Into how strange a labyrinth am I  
Now fall'n! what shall I do Zorannes'?  Zir. 
Do (Sir) as Seamen, that have lost their light  
And way: strike sail, and lie quiet a while.  
Your forces in the Province are not yet  
In readiness, nor is our friend Zephines'  
Arrived at Delphos; nothing is ripe, besides—  Ther. 
Good heavens, did I but dream that she was mine?  
Upon imagination did I climb up to  
This height? let me then wake and die,  
Some courteous hand snatch me from what's to come,  
And ere my wrongs have being give them end:  Zir. 
How poor, and how unlike the Prince is this?  
This trifle woman does unman us all;  
Robs us so much, it makes us things of pity.  
Is this a time to lose our anger in?  
And vainly breathe it out? when all we have  
Will hardly fill the sail of Resolution,  
And make us bear up high enough for action.  Ther. 
I have done (Sir) pray chide no more;  
The slave whom tedious custom has enured  
And taught to think of misery as of food,  
Counting it but a necessary of life,  
And so digesting it, shall not so much as once  
Be named to patience▪ when I am spoken of:  
Mark me; for I will now undo myself  
As willingly, as virgins give up all first nights  
To them they love:— Offers to go out.  Zir. 
Stay, Sir, 'twere fit Auglara yet were kept  
In ignorance: I will dismiss the Guard,  
And be myself again. Exit.  Ther. 
In how much worse estate am I in now,  
Than if I near had known her; privation,  
Is a misery as much above bare wretchedness,  
As that is short of happiness:  
So when the Sun does not appear,  
'Tis darker, cause it once was here.  Enter Ziriff speaks to Orsames and others half entered. Zir. 
Nay, Gentlemen:  
There needs no force, where there is no resistance:  
I'll satisfy the King myself.  Ther. 
— Oh 'tis well y'are come,  
There was within me fresh Rebellion,  
And reason was almost unking'd again.  
But you shall have her Sir— Goes out to fetch Aglaura.  Zir. 
What doubtful combats in this noble youth  
Passion and reason have!—  Enter Thersames leading Aglaura. Ther. 
Here Sir— Gives her, goes out.  Agl. 
What means the Prince, my Lord?  Zir. 
Madam, his wiser fear has taught him to disguise  
His love, and make it look a little rude at parting.  
Affairs that do concern▪ all that you hope from  
Happiness, this night force him away:  
And lest you should have tempted him to stay,  
(Which he did doubt you would and would prevail)  
He left you thus: he does desire by me  
You would this night lodge in the little tower,  
Which is in my command▪ the reasons why  
Himself will shortly tell you.  Agl. 
'Tis strange, but I am all obedience— Exeunt.   

ACTUS II. SCENA I.  Enter Thersames, Jolas a Lord of the Counsel jol. 
I Told him so, Sir, urged 'twas no common knot,  
That to the tying of it two powerful Princes,  
Virtue and Love were joined and that  
A greater than these two was now  
Engaged in it, Religion; but 'twould, not do,  
The cork of passion buoy up all reason so  
That what was said▪ swum but o'th' top of th'ear  
Near reached the heart:  Ther. 
Is there no way for Kings to show their power,  
But in their Subjects wrongs? no subject neither  
But his own son?  jol. 
Right Sir:  
No quarry for his lust to gorge on, but on what  
You fairly had flown at and taken:  
Well— wert not the King, or wert indeed  
Not you, that have such hopes, and such a crown  
To venture, and yet—  
'Tis but a woman.  Ther. 
How? that but again, and thou art more enjurious  
Than he, and wouled provoke me sooner.  jol. 
Why Sir?  
There are no Altars yet addressed unto her,  
Nor sacrifice; if I have made her less  
Than what she is, it was my love to you:  
For in my thoughts, and here within, I hold her  
The Noblest piece Nature ere lent our eyes,  
And of the which▪ all women else, are but  
Weak counterfeits, made up by her journeymen.  
But was this fit to tell you?  
I know you value but too high all that,  
And in a loss we should not make things more,  
'Tis misery's happiness, that we can make it less  
By art, through a forgetfulness upon our ills,  
Yet who can do it here?  
When every voice, must needs, and every face,  
By showing what she was not, show what she was.  Ther. 
I'll instantly unto him— draws.  jol. 
Stay Sir:  
Though't be the utmost of my Fortunes hope  
To have an equal share of ill with you:  
Yet I could wish we sold this trifle life,  
At a far dearer rate, than we are like to do,  
Since 'tis a King's the Merchant.  Ther. 
Ha!  
King, I! 'tis indeed.  
And there's no Art can canncell that high bond:  jol. 
— He cools again.— (to himself.)  
True Sir, and yet me thinks to know a reason—  
For passive nature ne'er had glorious end,  
And he that States preventions ever learned,  
Knows, 'tis one motion to strike and to defend.  Enter Servingman. Seru. 
Some of the Lords without, and from the King,  
They say, wait you.  Ther. 
What subtle State trick now?  
But one turn here, and I am back my lord— Exit.  jol. 
This will not do; his resolution's like.  
A kilfull horseman and reason is the stirrup,  
Which though a sudden shock may make  
It lose, yet does it meet it handsomely again.  
Stay, ' 'tmust be some sudden fear of wrong  
To her, that may draw on a sudden act  
From him, and ruin from the King; for such  
A spirit will not like common ones, be  
Raised by every spell, 'tis in love's circle  
Only 'twill appear.  Enter Thersames. Thir. 
I cannot bear the burden of my wrongs  
One minute longer.  jol. 
Why! what's the matter Sir?  Thir. 
They do pretend the safety of the State  
Now, nothing but my marriage with Cadusia  
Can secure th'adjoining country to it;  
Confinement during life for me if I refuse  
Diana's Nunnery for her— And at that Nunn'rie, jolas',  
Allegiance in me like the string of a Watch  
Wound up too high and forced above the nick,  
Ran back, and in a moment was unravelled all.  jol. 
Now by the love I bear to Justice,  
That Nunn'rie was too severe; when virtuous love's a crime  
What man can hope to scape a punishment,  
Or who's indeed so wretched to desire it?  Ther. 
Right!  jol. 
What answer made you, Sir!  Ther. 
None, they gave me till to morrow,  
And e'er that be, or they or I  
Must know our destiny:  
Come friend let's in, there is no sleeping now;  
For time is short, and we have much to do.— Exeunt.  Enter Orsames, Philan Courtiers. Ors. 
Judge you, gentlemans, if I be not as unfortunate  
As a gamester thinks himself upon the loss  
Of the last stake; this is the first she  
ay ever swore too heartily, and (by those eyes)  
I think I had continued unperjured a whole month,  
(And that's fair you'll say.)  1 Court. 
Very fair—  Ors. 
Had she not run mad betwixt.—  2 Court. 
How? mad?  
Who? Semanthe?  Ors. 
Yea, yea, mad, ask Philan else.  
People that want clear intervals talk not  
So wildly: I'll tell you Gallants▪ 'tis now, since first I  
Found myself a little hot and quivering 'bout the heart,  
Some ten days since, (a tedious Ague) Sirs;  
(But what of that?)  
The gracious glance, and little whisper passed,  
Approaches made from th'hand unto the lip.  
I came to visit her, and (as you know we use)  
Breathing a sigh or two by way of prologue,  
Told her, that in Love's Physic 'twas a rule,  
Where the disease had birth to seek a cure;  
It had no sooner named love to her, but she  
Began to talk of Flames, and Flames,  
Neither devouring, nor devoured, of Air,  
And of Chameleons—  1 Court. 
Oh the Platoniques.  2 Court. 
Those of the new religion in love! your Lordship's merry,  
Troth how do you like the humour on't?  Ors. 
As thou wouldst like red hair, or leanness  
In thy Mistress; scurvily, 't does worse with handsomeness,  
Than strong desire would do with impotence;  
A mere trick to enhance the price of kisses—  Phi. 
Sure these silly women, when they feed  
Our expectation so high, do but like  
Ignorant Conjurers, that raise a Spirit  
Which handsomely they cannot lay again:  Ors. 
True, 'tis like some that nourish up  
Young Lions till they grow so great they are afraid of  
Themselves, they dare not grant at last,  
For fear they show d not satisfy.  Phi. 
Who's for the Town? I must take up again,  Ors. 
This villainous Love's as changeable as the Philosopher's Stone and thy Mistress as hard to compass too!  Phi. 
The Platonique is ever so; they are as tedious  
Before they come to the point, as an old man  
Fallen into the Stories of his youth;  2 Cour. 
Or a widow into the praises of her first husband,  Ors. 
Well if she hold out but one month longer,  
If I do not quite forget, I ere beleaguered there,  
And remove the siege to another place, may all  
The curses beguiled virgins lose upon their perjured lovers  
Fall upon me.  Phi. 
And thou wilt deserve'em all.  Ors. 
For what?  Phi. 
For being in the company of those  
That took away the Prince's Mistress from him.  Ors. 
Peace, that will be redeemed—  
I put but on this wildness to disguise myself;  
There are brave things in hand, hark i'thy ear●:— (Whisper)  1. Court. 
Some severe plot upon a maidenhead.  
These two young Lords make love,  
As Embroiderers work against a Mask, night and day;  
They think importunity a nearer way than merit,  
And take women as Schoolboys catch Squirrels.  
Hunt 'em up and down till they are weary,  
And fall down before'm.  Ors. 
Who loves the Prince fails not—  Phi. 
And I am one: my injuries are great as thine,  
And do persuade as strongly.  Ors. 
I had command to bring thee,  
Fail not and in thine own disguise,  Phi. 
Why in disguise?  Ors. 
It is the Prince's policy and love;  
For if we should miscarry,  
Some one taken might betray the rest  
Unknown to one another,  
Each man is safe, in his own valour;  2 Court. 
And what Mercer's wife are you to cheapen now  
In stead of his silks?  Ors. 
Troth; 'tis not so well; 'tis but a Cousin of thine—  
Come Philan let's along:— Exeunt.  Enter Queen alone. Orb. 
What is it thus within whispering remorse,  
And calls Love Tyrant? all powers, but his,  
Their rigour, and our fear, have made divine!  
But every Creature holds of him by sense,  
The sweetest Tenure; yea! but my husband's brother:  
And what of that? do harmless birds or beasts  
Ask leave of curious Heraldry at all?  
Does not the womb of one fair spring,  
Bring unto the earth many sweet rivers,  
That wantonly do one another chase▪  
And in one bed, kiss, mingle, and embrace?  
Man (Nature's heir) is not by her will tied,  
To shun all creatures are allied unto him;  
For than he should shun all; since death and life  
Doubly allies all them that live by breath:  
The Air that does impart to all life's brood,  
Refreshing, is so near to itself, and to us all,  
That all in all is individual:  
But, how am I sure one and the same desire  
Warmes Ariaspes: for Art can keep alive  
A beddred love.  Enter Ariaspes. Ari. 
Alone, (Madam) and overcast with thought,  
Uncloud— uncloud— for if we may believe  
The smiles of Fortune, love shall no longer pine  
In prison thus, nor undelivered travel  
With throes of fear, and of desire about it.  
The Prince, (like to a valiant beast in nets)  
Striving to force a freedom suddenly,  
Has made himself at length, the surer prey:  
The King stands only now betwixt, and is,  
Just like a single tree, that hinders all the prospect:  
'Tis but the cutting down of him, and we—  Orb. 
Why will't thou thus embark into strange seas,  
And trouble Fate, for what we have already?  
Thou art to me what thou now seekest a Kingdom;  
And were thy love as great, as thy ambition;  
I should be so to thee.  Ari. 
Think you, you are not Madam?  
As well and justly may you doubt the truths,  
Tortured, or dying men do leave behind them:  
But then my fortune turns my misery,  
When my addition shall but make you less;  
Shall I endure that head that wore a crown,  
For my sake should wear none? First let me lose  
Th' Exchequer of my wealth, your love; nay, may  
All that rich Treasury you have about you.  
Be rifled by the man I hated, and I look on;  
Though youth be full of sin, and heaven be just,  
So sad a doom I hope they keep not from me;  
Remember what a quick Apostasy he made,  
When all his vows were up to heaven and you.  
How, ere the Bridal torches were burnt out,  
His flames grew weak, and sicklier; think on that,  
Think how unsafe you are, if she should now,  
Not sell her honour at a lower rate,  
Than your place in his bed.  Orb. 
And would not you prove false too then?  Ari. 
By this— and this— loves breakfast: (Kisses her.)  
By his feasts too yet to come, by all the  
Beauty in this face, divinity too great  
To be profaned—  Orb. 
O do not swear by that;  
Cankers may eat that flower upon the stalk,  
(For sickness and mischance, are great devourers)  
And when there is not in these cheeks and lips,  
Left red enough to blush at perjury,  
When you shall make it, what shall I do then?  Ari. 
Our souls by that time (Madam)  
Will by long custome so acquainted be,  
They will not need that duller truchman Flesh,  
But freely, and without those poorer helps,  
Converse and mingle; mean time we'll teach  
Our loves to speak, not thus to live by signs,  
And action is his native language, Madam,  Enter Ziriff unseen. 
This box but opened to the Sense will do't.  Orb. 
I undertake I know not what,  Ari. 
Thine own safety (Dearest)  
Let it be this night, if thou dost; Whisper and kiss.  
Love thyself or me.  Orb. 
That's very sudden.  Ari. 
Not if we be so, and we must now be wise,  
For when their Sun sets, ours begins to rise.— Exeunt.  Ziriff solus. Zir. 
Then all my fears are true, and she is false;  
False as a falling Star, or Glow-worms fire:  
This Devil Beauty is compounded strangely,  
It is a subtle point, and hard to know,  
Whether 't has in't more active tempting,  
Or more passive tempted; so soon it forces,  
And so soon it yields—  
Good Gods! she seized my heart, as if from you  
she'd had Commission to have used me so;  
And all mankind besides— and see, if the just Ocean  
Makes more haste to pay  
To needy rivers, what it borrowed first,  
Then she to give, where she ne'er took;  
Me thinks I feel anger, Revenges Harbinger  
Chalking up all within, and thrusting out  
Of doors, the tame and softer passions;—  
It must be so:  
To love is noble frailty, but poor sin  
When we fall once to Love, unloved again. Exit.  Enter King, Ariaspes, Jolas. Ari. 
'Twere fit your Justice did consider, (Sir)  
What way it took; if you should apprehend  
The Prince for Treason (which he never did)  
And which, unacted, is unborn; (at least will be believed so)  
Looker's on, and the loud talking crowd,  
Will think it all but water colours  
Laid on for a time,  
And which wiped off, each common eye would see,  
Strange ends through stranger ways:  King. 
Think'st thou I will compound with Treason then?  
And make one fear another's Advocate?  jol. 
Virtue forbid Sir, but if you would permit,  
Them to approach the room (yet who would advise  
Treason should come so near?) there would be then  
No place left for excuse.  King. 
How strong are they?  jol. 
Weak, considering  
The enterprise; they are but few in number,  
And those few too having nothing but  
Their resolutions considerable about them.  
A Troop indeed designed to suffer what  
They come to execute.  King. 
Who are they are thus weary of their lives?  Jol. 
Their names I cannot give you.  
For those he sent for, he did still receive  
At a back door, and so dismissed them too.  
But I do think Ziriff is one.—  King. 
Take heed! I shall suspect thy hate to others,  
Not thy love to me, begot this service;  
This Treason thou thyself dost say  
Has but an hour's age, and I can give account  
Of him, beyond that time.— Brother, in the little Tower  
Where now Aglaura's prisoner,  
You shall find him; bring him along,  
He yet doth stand untainted in my thoughts,  
And to preserve him so,  
He shall not stir out of my eyes command  
Till this great cloud be over.  Jol. 
Sir, 'twas the Prince who first—  King. 
I know all that! urge it no more!  
I love the man;  
And 'tis with pain, we do suspect,  
Where we do not dislike:  
thouart sure he will have some,  
And that they will come to night?  Jol. 
As sure as night will come itself.  King. 
Get all your Guards in readiness, we will ourself  
Disperse them afterwards; and both be sure  
To wear your thoughts within: I'll act the rest: Exeunt.  Enter Philan, Orsames, Courtiers. 2. Court. 
Well.— If there be not some great storm towards,  
ne'er trust me; Whisper (Court thunder) is in  
Every corner, and there has been to day  
About the Town a murmuring  
And buzzing, such as men use to make,  
When they do fear to vent their fears;  1. Court. 
True, and all the Statesmen hang down their heads,  
Like full eared corn; two of them  
Where I supped, asked what time of night it was,  
And when 'twas told them, started, as if  
They had been to run a race.  2. Court. 
The King too (if you mark him,) doth feign mirth  
And jollity, but through them both,  
Flashes of discontent, and anger make escapes:  Ors. 
Gentlemen! 'tis pity heaven  
Designed you not to make the Almanacs.  
You guess so shrewdly by the ill aspects,  
Or near conjunctions of the great ones,  
At what's to come still; that without all doubt  
The Country had been governed wholly by you,  
And ploughed and reaped accordingly; for me,  
I understand this mystery as little  
As the new Love, and as I take it too,  
'Tis much about the Time that every thing  
But Owls, and Lovers take their rest;  
Good night, Philan— away— Exit.  1. Court. 
'Tis early yet; let's go on the Queen's side  
And fool a little; I love to warm myself  
Before I go to bed, it does beget  
Handsome and sprightly thoughts, and makes  
Our dreams half solid pleasures.  2. Court. 
Agreed: agreed: Exeunt.   

ACTUS III. SCENA I.  Enter Prince: Conspirators. Ther. 
COuldst thou not find cut Ziriff?  1. Court. 
Not speak with him my Lord;  
Yet I sent in by several men.  Ors. 
I wonder Jolas meets us not here too.  Ther. 
'Tis strange, but let's on now how ere,  
When Fortunes, honour, life, and all's in doubt  
Bravely to dare, is bravely to get out.  Excursions: The Guard upon them. Ther. 
Betrayed! betrayed!  Ors. 
Shift for yourself Sir, and let us alone,  
We will secure your way, and make our own. Exeunt.  Enter the King, and Lords. King. 
Follow Lords, and see quick execution done,  
Leave not a man alive.  
Who treads on fire, and does not put it out,  
Disperses fear in many sparks of doubt. Exeunt.  Enter Conspirators, and the Guard upon them. Ors. 
Stand friends, an equal party— (Fight.) Three of the Conspirators fall, & three of the King's side: Orsames & Philan kill the rest. They throw of their disguises.  Ph. 
Brave Orsames, 'tis pleasure to die near thee.  Ors. 
Talk not of dying Philan, we will live,  
And serve the noble Prince again; we are alone,  
Off then with thy disguise, & throw it in the bushes;  
Quick, quick; before the torrent comes upon us:  
We shall be straight good subjects, & I despair not  
Of reward for this night's service: so.—  
We two now killed our friends! 'tis hard,  
But ' 'tmust be so.  Enter Ariaspes, Jolas, two Courtiers, part of the Guard. Ari. 
Follow! Follow!  Ors. 
Yes; so you may now, y'are not likely to overtake.  Jol. 
Orsames, and Philan, how came you hither?  Ors. 
The nearest way it seems, you followed (thank you)  
As if 'thad been through quicksets:  Jol. 
'Sdeath have they all escaped?  Ors. 
Not all, two of them we made sure;  
But they cost dear, look here else.  Ari. 
Is the Prince there?  Phi. 
They are both Princes I think,  
They fought like Princes I am sure. Jolas pulls off the vizors.  Jol. 
Stephines', and Odîris— we trifle.  
Which way took the rest?  Ors. 
Two of them are certainly here abouts.  Ari. 
Upon my life they swum the river;  
Some straight to horse, and follow o'er the bridge;  
You and I my Lord will search this place a little better.  Ors. 
Your Highness will I hope remember, who were  
The men were in—  Ari. 
Oh! fear not, your Mistress shall know y'are valiant.  Ors. 
Philan! if thou lov'st me, let's kill them upon the place.  Phi. 
Fie: thou now art wild indeed;  
Thou taught'st me to be wise first,  
And I will now keep thee so.— Follow, follow. Exeunt.  Enter Aglaura with a Lute. The Prince comes and knocks within. Ther. 
Madam!  Agl. 
What wretch is this that thus usurps  
Upon the privilege of Ghosts, and walks  
At midnight?  Ther. 
Aglaura.  Agl. 
Betray me not  
My willing sense too soon, yet if that voice  
Be false.—  Ther. 
Open fair Saint, and let me in.  Agl. 
It is the Prince—  
As willingly as those  
That cannot sleep do light; welcome (Sir,) (Open.)  
Welcome above.— Spies his sword drawn.  
Bless me, what means this unsheathed minister of death?  
If, Sir, on me quick Justice be to pass,  
Why this? absence alas, or such strange looks  
As you now bring with you would kill as soon:  Ther. 
Softly! for ay, like a hard hunted Deer,  
Have only herded here; and though the cry  
Reach not our ears, yet am I followed close:  
O my heart! since I saw thee,  
Time has been strangely Active, and begot  
A Monstrous issue of unheard of Story:  
Sat; thou shalt have it all! nay, sigh not.  
Such blasts will hinder all the passage;  
Dost thou remember, how we parted last?  Agl. 
Can I forget it Sir?  Ther. 
That word of parting was ill placed, I swear,  
It may be ominous; but dost thou know  
Into whose hands I gave thee?  Agl. 
Yes into Ziriffs Sir.  Ther. 
That Ziriff was thy brother, brave Zorannes'  
Preserved by miracle in that sad day  
Thy father fell, and since thus in disguise,  
Waiting his just revenge.  Agl. 
You do amaze me, Sir.  Ther. 
And must do more, when I tell all the story.  
The King, the jealous King, knew of the marriage,  
And when thou thought'st thyself by my direction,  
Thou wert his Prisoner;  
Unless I would renounce all right,  
And cease to love thee, (o strange, and fond request!)  
Immured thou must have been in some sad place,  
And locked for ever, from Thersames sight.  
For ever— and that unable to endure  
This night, I did attempt his life.  Agl. 
Was it well done Sir?  Ther. 
O no! extremely ill!  
For to attempt and not to act was poor:  
Here the dead-doing Law, (like ill-paid Soldiers)  
Leaves the side 'twas on, to join with power,  
Royal villainy now will look so like to Justice,  
That the times to come, and curious posterity,  
Will find no difference: weep'st thou Aglaura?  
Come, to bed my Love!  
And we will there mock Tyranny, and Fate,  
Those softer hours of pleasure, and delight,  
That like so many single Pearls, should have  
Adorned our thread of life, we will at once,  
By Love's mysterious power, and this nights help  
Contract to one, and make but one rich draught  
Of all.  Agl. 
What mean you Sir?  Ther. 
To make myself incapable of misery,  
By taking strong preservative of happiness:  
I would this night enjoy thee:  Agl. 
Do: Sir, do what you will with me,  
For I am too much yours, to deny the right  
How ever claimed— but—  Ther. 
But what Aglaura?  Agl. 
Gather not rese in a wet and frowning hour,  
They'll lose their sweets then, trust me they will Sir.  
What pleasure can Love take to play his game out,  
When death must keep the Stakes— A noise without.  
Hark Sir— grave-bringers, and last minutes are at hand,  
Hide hide yourself, for Love's sake hide yourself.  Ther. 
As soon the Sun may hide himself, as I.  
The Prince of Persia hide himself?  Agl. 
O talk not Sir; the Sun does hide himself then;  
When night and blackness comes—  Ther. 
Never sweet Ignorance, he shines in th'other world  
And so shall I, if I set here in glory:  
Enter Opens the door. enter Ziriff.  
Ye hasty seekers of life.  
Sorannez.—  Agl. 
My brother!  
If all the joy within me come not cut,  
To give a welcome to so dear an object,  
Excuse it Sir; sorrow locks up all doors.  Zir. 
If there be such a Toy about you, Sister,  
Keep't for yourself, or lend it to the Prince;  
There is a dearth of that Commodity,  
And you have made it Sir. Now?  
What is the next mad thing you mean to do?  
Will you stay here? when all the Court's beset  
Like to a wood at a great hunt and busy mischief hastes  
To be in view, and have you in her power—  Ther. 
To me all this—  
For great grief's deaf as well as it is dumb,  
And drives no trade at all with Counsel: (Sir)  
Why do you not Tutor one that has the Plague,  
And see if he will fear an after ague sit;  
Such is all mischief now to me; there is none left  
Is worth a thought. death is the worst, I know,  
And that compared to shame, does look more lovely now  
Than a chaste Mistress, set by common woman—  
And I must court it Sir?  Zir. 
No wonder if that heaven forsake us, when we leave ourselves:  
What is there done should feed such high despair?  
Were you but safe—  Agl. 
Dear (Sir) be ruled,  
If love, be love, and magic too,  
(As sure it is where it is true;)  
We then shall meet in absence, and in spite  
Of all divorce, freely enjoy together,  
What niggard Fate thus peevishly denies.  Ther. 
Yea: but if pleasures be themselves but dreams,  
What then are the dreams of these to men?  
That monster, Expectation, will devour  
All that is within our hope or power,  
And e'er we once can come to show, how rich  
We are, we shall be poor,  
Shall we not Sorannez?  Zir. 
I understand not this,  
In times of envious penury (such as these are)  
To keep but love alive is fair, we should not think  
Of feasting him: come (Sir)  
Here in these lodgings is a little door,  
That leads unto another; that again,  
Unto a vault that has his passage under  
The little river, opening into the wood;  
From thence 'tis but some few minutes easy business  
Unto a Servants house of mine (who for his faith  
And honesty, hereafter must  
Look big in Story) there you are safe however;  
And when this Storm has met a little calm,  
What wild desire dares whisper to itself,  
You may enjoy, and at the worst may steal:  Ther. 
What shall become of thee Aglaura then?  
Shall I leave thee their rages sacrifice?  
And like dull Seamen threatened with a storm,  
Throw all away, I have, to save myself?  Agl. 
Can I be safe when you are not? my Lord?  
Knows love in us divided happiness?  
Am I the safer for your being here?  
Can you give that you have not for yourself?  
My innocence is my best guard and that your stay  
Betraying it unto suspicion, takes away.  
If you did love me?—  Ther. 
Grows that in question? then 'tis time to part:— Kisses her.  
When we shall meet again Heaven only knows,  
And when we shall, I know we shall be old:  
Love does not calculate the common way,  
Minutes are hours there, and the hours are days,  
Each day's a year and every year an age;  
What will this come to think you?  Zir. 
Would this were all the ill,  
For these are pretty little harmless nothings;  
Time's horse runs full▪ as fast, hard borne and curbed,  
As in his full career, loose-rained and spurred:  
Come, come, let's away.  Ther. 
Happiness, such as men lost in misery  
Would wrong in naming, 'tis so much above them.  
All that I want of it, all you deserve,  
Heaven send you in my absence.  Agl. 
And misery such as witty malice would  
Lay out in curses, on the thing it hates,  
Heaven send me in the stead if when y'are gone  
I welcome it, but for your sake alone.— Exeunt. Leads him out, & enters up out of the vault.  Zir. 
Stir not from hence, Sir, till you hear from me  
So good-night dear Prince.  Ther. 
Good-night dear friend.  Zir. 
When we meet next all this will but advance—  
Joy never feasts so high,  
As when the first course is of misery. Exeunt.   

ACTUS IV. SCENA I.  Enter three or four Courtiers. 1 Court. 
BY this light— a brave Prince,  
He made no more of the Guard, than they  
Would of a Tailor on a Mask night, that has refused  
Trusting before.  2 Court. 
he's as Active as he is valiant too;  
Didst mark him how he stood like all the points  
O'th' Compass, and as good Pictures,  
Had his eyes, towards every man.  3 Court. 
And his sword too,  
All th'other side walk up and down the Court now,  
As if they had lost their way, and stare,  
Like Greyhounds, when the Hare has taken the furze.  1 Court. 
Right.  
And have more troubles about'em  
Than a Servingman that has forgot his message  
When he's come upon the place.—  2 Court. 
Yonder's the King within chafing, & swearing  
Like an old Falconer upon the first flight  
Of a young Hawk, when some Clown  
Has taken away the quarry from her;  
And all the Lords stand round about him,  
As if he were to be baited, with much more fear,  
And at much more distance,  
Than a Country Gentlewoman sees the Lions the first time:  
Look: he's broke loose.  Enter King and Lords. King. 
Find him; or by Osiris' self, you all are Traitors;  
And equally shall pay to Justice; a single man,  
And guilty too, break through you all!  Enter Ziriff. Zir. 
Confidence!  
(Thou paint of women, and the Statesman's wisdom,  
Valour for Cowards, and of the guiltless Innocence,)  
Assist me now.  
Sir, send these Starers off:  
I have some business will deserve your privacy.  King. 
Leave us.  Jol. 
How the villain swells upon us?— Exeunt.  Zir. 
Not to punish thought,  
Or keep it long upon the wrack of doubt,  
Know Sir,  
That by corruption of the waiting woman,  
The common key of secrets, I have found  
The truth at last, and have discovered all:  
The Prince your Son was by Aglaura's means,  
Conveyed last night unto the Cypress Grove,  
Through a close vault that opens in the lodgings:  
He does intend to join with Carimania,  
But e'er he goes, resolves to finish all  
The rites of Love, and this night means  
To steal what is behind.  King. 
How good is Heaven unto me!  
That when it gave me Traitors for my Subjects,  
Would lend me such a Servant!  Zir. 
How just (Sir) rather,  
That would bestow this Fortune on the poor.  
And where your bounty had made debt so infinite  
That it grew desperate, their hope to pay it—  King. 
Enough of that, thou dost but gently chide  
Me for a fault, hat I wîll mend; for I  
Have been toopoore, and low in my rewards  
Unto thy▪ vertue: but to our business;  
The question is, whether we shall rely  
Upon our Guards again?  Zir. 
By no means Sir:  
Hope on his future fortunes, or their Love  
Unto his person, has so sicklied o'er  
Their resolutions, that we must not trust them,  
Besides, it were but needless here;  
He passes through the vault alone, and I  
Myself durst undertake that business,  
If that were all, but there is something else,  
This accident doth prompt my zeal to serve you in.  
I know you love Aglaura (Sir) with passion,  
And would enjoy her; I know besides  
She loves him so▪ that whosoever shall bring  
The tidings of his death, must carry back  
The news of hers, so that your Justice (Sir)  
Must rob your hope: but there is yet a way—  King. 
Here! take my heart; for I have hitherto  
Too vainly spent the treasure of my love,  
I'll have it coined straight into friendship all,  
And make a present to thee.  Zir. 
If any part of this rich happiness.  
(Fortune prepares now for you) shall owe itself  
Unto my weak endeavours, I have enough,  
Aglaura without doubt this night expects  
The Prince, and why  
You should not then supply his place by stealth,  
And in disguise—  King. 
I apprehend thee Ziriff,  
But there's difficulty—  Zir. 
Who trades in love must be an adventurer, (Sir)  
But here is scarce enough to make the pleasure dearer:  
I know the Cave; your Brother and myself  
With jolas', (for those weare sure do hae him,)  
With some few chosen more betimes will wait  
The Princes passing through the vault; if he  
Comes first, he's dead; and if it be yourself,  
We will conduct you to the chamber door,  
And stand 'twixt you and danger afterwards.  King. 
I have conceived of joy, and am grown great:  
Till I have safe deliverance, time's a cripple  
And goes on crutches.— as for thee my Ziriff,  
I do here entertain a friendship with thee,  
Shall drown the memory of all patterns past;  
We will oblige by turns; and that so thick,  
And fast, that curious studiers of it,  
Shall not once dare to cast it up, or say  
By way of guess, whether thou or I  
Remain the debtors, when we come to die. Exeunt.  Enter Semanthe, Orithie, Philan, Orsames, Lords and Ladies. Ori. 
Is the Queen ready to come out?  Phi. 
Not yet sure the King's brother is but newly entered;  Sem. 
Come my Lord, the Song then.  Ori. 
The Song.  Ors. 
A vengeance take this love, it spoils a voice  
Worse than the losing of a maidenhead.  
I have got such a cold with rising  
And walking in my shirt a nights, that  
A Bittorne whooping in a reed is better music.  Ori. 
This modesty becomes you as ill, my Lord,  
As wooing would us woman; pray, put's not to't.  Ors. 
Nay Ladies, you shall find me,  
As free, as the Musicians of the woods  
Themselves; what I have, you shall not need to call for.  
Nor shall it cost you any thing.  

SONG.  

WHy so pale and wan fond Lover?  
Prithee why so pale?  
Will, when looking well can't move her,  
Looking ill prevail?  
Prithee why so pale?   

Why so dull and mute young Sinner?  
Prithee why so mute?  
Will, when speaking well can't win her,  
Saying nothing do't?  
Prithee why so mute?   

Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move  
This cannot take her;  
If of herself she will not Love,  
Nothing can make her,  
The Devil take her.    Ori. 
I should have guest, it had been the issue of  
Your brain, if I had not been told so;  Ors. 
A little foolish counsel (Madam) I gave a friend  
Of mine four or five years ago, when he was  
Falling into a Consumption.—  Enter Queen. Orb. 
Which of all you have seen the fair prisoner  
Since she was confined?  Sem. 
I have Madam.  Orb. 
And how behaves she now herself?  Sem. 
As one that had entrenched so deep in Innocence▪  
She feared no enemies, bears all quietly,  
And smiles at Fortune, whilst she frowns on her  Orb. 
So gallant! I wonder where the beauty lies  
That thus inflames the royal blood?  Ori. 
Faces, Madam, are like books, those that do study them  
Know best, and to say truth, 'tis still  
Much as it pleases the Courteous Reader.  Orb. 
These Lovers sure are like Astronomers,  
That when the vulgar eye discovers, but  
A Sky above, studded with some few stars,  
Find out besides strange fishes, birds, and beasts.  Sem. 
As men in sickness scorched into a raving  
do see the Devil, in all shapes and forms,  
When standers by wondering, ask where, and when;  
So they in Love, for all's but fever there,  
And madness too.  Orb. 
That's too severe Semanthe;  
But we will have your reasons in the park;  
Are the doors open through the Gardens?  Lo. 
The King has newly led the way. Exeunt.  Enter Ariaspes: Ziriff, with a warrant sealed. Ari. 
Thou art a Tyrant, Ziriff: I shall die with joy.  Zir. 
I must confess my Lord; had but the Prince's ills  
Proved sleight, and not thus dangerous,  
He should have owed to me, at least I would  
Have laid a claim unto his safety; and  
Like Physicians, that do challenge right  
In Nature's cures, looked for reward and thanks;  
But since 'twas otherwise, I thought it best  
To save myself, and then to save the State.  Ari. 
'Twas wisely done.  Zir. 
Safely I'm sure, my Lord! you know 'tis not  
Our custom, where the King's dislike, once swells to hate,  
There to engage ourselves; Court friendship  
Is a Cable, that in storms is ever cut,  
And I made bold with it; here is the warrant sealed  
And for the execution of it, if you think  
We are not strong enough, we may have  
jolas', for him the King did name.  Ari. 
And him I would have named.  Zir. 
But is he not too much the Prince's (Sir?)  Ari. 
He is as lights in Scenes at Masques,  
What glorious show so ere he makes without,  
I that set him there, know why, and how; Enter Jolas.  
But here he is.—  
Come Jolas; and since the heavens decreed,  
The man whom thou shouldst envy, should be such,  
That all men else must do't; be not ashamed  
Thou once wert guilty of it;  
But bless them, that they give thee now a means,  
To make a friendship with him, and vouchsafe  
To find thee out a way to love, where well  
Thou couldst not hate.  Jol. 
What means my Lord?  Ari. 
Here, here he stands that has preserved us all!  
That sacrificed unto a public good,  
(The dearest private good we mortals have)  
Friendship: gave into our arms the Prince,  
When nothing but the sword (perchance a ruin)  
Was left to do it.  jol. 
How could I chide my love, and my ambition now,  
That thrust me upon such a quarrel? here I do vow—  Zir. 
Hold do not vow my Lord, let it deserve it first;  
And yet (if Heaven bless honest men's intents)  
'Tis not Impossible.  
My Lord, you will be pleased to inform him in particulars,  
I must be gone.—  
The King I fear already has been left  
Too long alone.  Ari. 
Stay— the hour and place.  Zir. 
Eleven, under the Terrace walk;  
I will not fail you there. Goes out, returns back again.  
I had forgot:—  
'Tmay be, the small remainder of those lost men  
That were of the conspiracy, will come along with him:  
'Twere best to have some chosen of the Guard  
Within our call— Exit Ziriff.  Ari. 
Honest, and careful Ziriff: Jolas stands musing.  
How now Planet struck?  jol. 
This Ziriff will grow great with all the world,  Ari. 
Shallow man short-sighteder than Travellers in mists,  
Or women that outlive themselves; dost thou not see,  
That whilst he does prepare a Tomb with one hand  
For his friend, he digs a Grave with th'other for himself?  jol. 
How so?  Ari. 
Dost think he shall not feel the weight of this,  
As well as poor Thersames?  jol. 
Shall we then kill him too at the same instant?  Ari. 
And say, the Prince made an unlucky thrust.  jol. 
Right.  Ari. 
Dull, dull, he must not die so uselessly.  
As when we wipe off filth from any place,  
We throw away the thing that made it clean,  
So this once done, he's gone.  
Thou knowst the People love the Prince, to their rage  
Something the State must offer up; who fitter  
Than thy rival and my enemy?  jol. 
Rare! our witness will be taken.  Ari. 
Pish! let me alone.  
The Giants that made mountains ladders,  
And thought to take great jove by force, were fools:  
Not hill on hill, but plot on plot, does make  
Us sit above, and laugh at all below us.— Exeunt.  Enter Aglaura, and a Singing Boy. Boy. 
Madam, 'twill make you melancholy,  
I'll sing the Prince's Song, that's sad enough.  Agl. 
What you will Sir.  

SONG.  

NO, no, fair Heretic, it needs must be  
But an ill Love in me,  
And worse for thee.   

For were it in my Power,  
To love thee now this hour,  
More than I did the last;   

I would then so fall,  
I might not Love at all;   

Love that can flow, and can admit increase,  
Admits as well an Ebb and may grow less.  
2  
True Love is still the same; the torrid Zones,  
And those more frigid ones,  
It must not know:   

For Love grown cold or hot,  
Is Lust, or Friendship, not  
The thing we have;   

For that's a flame would die,  
Held down, or up to high:   

Then think I love more than I can express,  
And would love more, could I but love thee less.    Agl. 
Leave me! for to a Soul, so out of Tune,  
As mine is now; nothing is harmony:  
When once the maine-spring, Hope, is fall'n into  
Disorder; no wonder, if the lesser wheels,  
Desire, and joy, stand still; my thoughts like Bees  
When they have lost their King, wander  
Confusedly up and down, and settle no where.  Enter Orithie. Orithie. 
fly! fly the room,  
As thou wouldst shun the habitations  
Which Spirits haunt, or where thy nearer friends  
Walk after death; here is not only Love,  
But Love's plague too— misfortune; and so high,  
That it is sure infectious!  Ori. 
Madam, so much more miserable am I this way than you,  
That should I pity you, I should forget myself:  
My sufferings are such, that with less patience  
You may endure your own, than give mine Audience.  
There is that difference, that you may make  
Yours none at all, but by considering mine!  Agl. 
O speak them quickly then! the marriage day  
To Passionate Lovers never was more welcome,  
Than any kind of ease would be to me now.  Ori. 
Could they be spoke, they were not then so great.  
I love, and dare not say I love; dare not hope,  
What I desire; yet still too must desire—  
And like a starving man brought to a feast,  
And made say grace, to what he ne'er shall taste,  
Be thankful after all, and kiss the hand,  
That made the wound thus deep.  Agl. 
'Tis hard indeed, but with what unjust scales,  
Thou took'st the weight of our misfortunes,  
Be thine own Judge now.  
Thou mournest for loss of that thou never hadst,  
Or if thou hadst a loss, it never was  
Of a Thersames.  
Wouldst thou not think a Merchant mad, Orithie?  
If thou shouldst see him weep, and tear his hair,  
Because he brought not both the Indies home?  
And wouldst not think his sorrows very just.  
If having fraught his ship with some rich Treasure,  
He sunk i'th' very Port? This is our case.  Ori. 
And do you think there is such odds in it?  
Would Heaven we women could as easily change  
Our fortunes as ('tis said) we can our minds.  
I cannot (Madam) think them miserable,  
That have the Princes Love.  Agl. 
He is the man then—  
Blush not Orithie, 'tis a sin to blush  
For loving him, though none at all to love him.  
I can admit of rivalship without  
A jealousy— nay shall be glad of it:  
We two will sit, and think▪ and think and sigh,  
And sigh, and talk of love— and of Thersames.  
Thou shalt be praising of his wit, while I  
Admire he governs it so well:  
Like this thing, said thus, th'other thing thus done,  
And in good language him for these adore,  
While I want words to do't, yet do it more.  
Thus will we do▪ till death itself shall us  
Divide, and then whose fate ' 'tshall be to die  
First of the two by legacy shall all  
Her love bequeath, and give her stock to her  
That shall survive; for no one stock can serve.  
To love Thersames so as he'll deserve.  Enter King, Ziriff. King. 
What have we here impossibility?  
A constant night, and yet within the room  
That, that can make the day before the Sun?  
Silent Aglaura too?  Agl. 
I know not what you say:  
Is't to your pity, or your scorn, I owe  
The favour of this visit (Sir?) for such  
My fortune is, it doth deserve them both:  King. 
And such thy beauty is, that it makes good  
All Fortunes, sorrow looks lovely here;  
And there's no man, that would not entertain  
His griefs as friends, were he but sure they'd show  
No worse upon him— but I forget myself,  
I came to chide.  Agl. 
If I have sinned so high, that yet my punishment  
Equals not my crime,  
Do Sir; I should be loath to die in debt  
To Justice, how ill so▪ re I paid  
The scores of Love.—  King. 
And those indeed thou hast but paid indifferently  
To me, I did deserve at least fair death,  
Not to be murdered thus in private:  
That was too cruel, Mistress.  
And I do know thou dost repent, and wilt  
Yet make me satisfaction:  Agl. 
What satisfaction Sir?  
I am no monstet, never had two hearts;  
One is by holy vows another's now,  
And could I give it you, you would not take it,  
For 'tis alike impossible for me,  
To love again, as you love Perjury.  
O Sir! consider, what a flame love is.  
If by rude means you think to force a light,  
That of itself it would not freely give,  
You blow it out, and leave yourself i'th' dark.  
The Prince once gone, you may as well persuade  
The light to stay behind, when the Sun posts  
To th'other world, as me; alas! we two,  
Have mingled souls more than two meeting brooks;  
And whosoever is designed to be  
The murderer of my Lord, (as sure there is,  
Has angered heaven so far that 't'as decreed  
Him to increase his punishment that way)  
Would he but search the heart, when he has done,  
He there would find Aglaura murdered too.  King. 
Thou hust o'ercome me, moved so handsomely  
For pity, that I will disinherit  
The elder brother, and from this hour be  
Thy Convert, not thy Lover.—  
Ziriff, dispatch away—  
And he that brings news of the Prince's welfare,  
Look that he have the same reward, we had decreed  
To him, brought tidings of his death.  
' 'tmust be a busy and bold hand, that would  
Unlinke a chain the Gods themselves have made:  
Peace to thy thoughts: Aglaura— Exit.  Ziriff steps back and speaks. Zir. 
What e'er he says believe him not Aglaura;  
For lust and rage ride high within him now:  
He knows Thersames made th'escape from hence,  
And does conceal it only for his ends:  
For by the favour of mistake and night,  
He hopes t'enjoy thee in the Prince's room;  
I shall be missed— else I would tell thee more;  
But thou mayest guess, for our condition  
Admits no middle ways, either we must  
Send them to Graves, or lie ourselves in dust— Exit.  Aglaura stands still and studies. Agl. 
Ha! 'tis a strange Act thought puts me now upon;  
Yet sure my brother meant the selfsame thing,  
And my Thersames would have done 't for me:  
To take his life that seeks to take away  
The life of Life, (honour from me;) and from  
The world▪ the life of honour, Thersames;  
Must needs be something sure, of kin to Justice.  
If I do fail, th'attempt howe'er was brave,  
And I shall have at worst a handsome grave— Exit.  Enter Jolas, Semanthe. Semanthe steps back, Jolas stays her. Jol. 
What? are we grown, Semanthe, night, and day?  
Must one still vanish when the other comes?  
Of all that ever Love did yet bring forth  
(And 'thas been fruitful too) this is  
The strangest issue.—  Sem. 
What my Lord?  Jol. 
Hate Semanthe.  Sem. 
You do mistake, if I do shun you, 'tis,  
As bashful Debtors shun their Creditors,  
I cannot pay you in the selfsame coin,  
And am ashamed to offer any other.  Jol. 
It is ill done Semanthe, to plead bankrupt,  
When with such ease you may be out of debt;  
In love's dominions, native commodity  
Is currant payment, change is all the Trade,  
And heart for heart the richest merchandise,  Sem. 
'Twould here be mean my Lord, since mine would prove  
In your hands but a Counterfeit, and yours in mine  
Worth nothing; Sympathy, not greatness,  
Makes those Jewels rise in value.  jol. 
Sympathy! o teach but yours to love then,  
And two so rich no mortal ever knew.  Sem. 
That heart would Love but ill that must be taught,  
Such fires as these still kindle of themselves.  jol. 
In such a cold, and frozen place as is  
Thy breast? how should they kindle of themselves  
Semanthe?  Sem. 
Ask how the Flint can carry fire within?  
'Tis the least miracle that Love can do:  Jol. 
Thou art thyself the greatest miracle,  
For thou art fair to all perfection,  
And yet dost want the greatest part of beauty,  
Kindness▪ thy cruelty (next to thyself,)  
Above all things on earth takes up my wonder.  Sem. 
Call not that cruelty, which is our fate,  
Believe me jolas' the honest Swain  
That from the brow os some steep cliff far off,  
Beholds a ship labouring in vain against  
The boisterous and unruly Elements, ne'er had  
Less power, or more desire to help than I;  
At every sigh, I die, and every look,  
Does move; and any passion you will have  
But Love, I have in store: I will be angry,  
Quarrel with destiny, and with myself  
That itis no better; be melancholy;  
And (though mine own disasters well might plead  
To be in chief,) yours only shall have place,  
I'll pity, and (if that's too low) I'll grieve,  
As for my sins, I cannot give you ease;  
All this I do, and this I hope will prove  
'Tis greater Torment not to love, than Love.— Exit.  jol. 
So perishing Sailours pray to storms,  
And so they hear again. So men  
With death about them, look on Physicians that  
Have given them o'er, and so they turn away:  
Two fixed Stars that keep a constant distance,  
And by laws made with themselves must know  
No motion eccentric, may meet as soon as we:  
The anger that the foolish Sea does show,  
When it does brave it out, and roar against  
A stubborn rock that still denies it passage,  
Is not so vain and fruitless, as my prayers.  
Ye mighty Powers of Love and Fate, where is  
Your Justice here? It is thy part (fond Boy)  
When thou dost find one wounded heart, to make  
The other so, but if thy Tyranny  
Be such, that thou wilt leave one breast to hate,  
If we must live, and this survive,  
How much more cruell's Fate?— Exit.   

ACTUS V. SCENA I.  Enter Ziriff, Ariaspes, jolas'. jol. 
A Glorious night!  Ari. 
Pray Heaven it prove so.  
Are we not there yet?  Zir. 
'Tis about this hollow. Enter the Cave.  Ari. 
How now! what region are we got into?  
Th'inheritance of night;  
Are we not mistaken a turning Ziriff,  
And stepped into some melancholy Devil's Territory?  
Sure 'tis a part of the first Chaos,  
That would endure no change.  Zir. 
No matter Sir, 'tis as proper for our purpose,  
As the Lobby for the waiting women.  
Stay you here, I'll move a little backward,  
And so we shall be sure to put him past  
Retreat: you know the word if't be the prince. (Goes to the mouth of the Cave.  Enter King. 
Here Sir, follow me, all's quiet yet.—  King. 
He is not come then?  Zir. 
No.  King. 
Where's Ariaspes?  Zir. 
Waiting within. He leads him on, steps behind him, gives the false word they kill the king.  jol. 
I do not like this waiting,  
Nor this fellows leaving us.  Ari. 
This place does put odd thoughts into thee,  
Then thou art in thine own nature too, as jealous  
As either Love or Honour: Come wear thy sword in readiness,  
And think how near we are a Crown.  Zir. 
Revenge!  
So let's drag him to the light and search  
His pockets, there may be papers there that will  
Discover the rest of the Conspirators.  
jolas', your hand— Draw him out.  Jol. 
Whom have we here? the King!  Zir. 
Yes, and Zorannes' too. Illo! ho!— Enter Pasithas and others.  
Unarm them.  
D'ye stare?  
This for my Father's injuries & mine: Points to the King's dead body.  
Half Love, half Duties Sacrifice,  
This— for the noble Prince, an offering to friendship: (runs at Jolas.  jol. 
Basely! and tamely— Dies.  Ari. 
What hast thou done?  Zir. 
Nothing— killed a Traitor,  
So— away with them, and leave us,  
Pasithas be only you in call.  Ari. 
What dost thou pause?  
Hast thou remorse already murderer?  Zir. 
No fool: 'tis but a difference I put  
Betwixt the crimes: Orbella is our quarrel;  
And I do hold it fit, that love should have  
A nobler way of Justice, than Revenge  
Or Treason; follow me out of the wood,  
And thou shalt be Master of this again:  
And then, best arm and title take it. They go out & enter again.  
There— Gives him his Sword.  Ari. 
Extremely good! Nature took pains I swear,  
The villain and the brave are mingled handsomely.  Zir. 
'Twas Fate that took it when it decreed  
We two should meet, nor shall they mingle now  
We are brought together straight to part.— Fight.  Ari. 
Some Devil sure has borrowed this shape. Pause.  
My Sword ne'er stayed thus long to find an entrance.  Zir. 
To guilty men, all that appears is Devil,  
Come Trifler, come.— Fight again, Ariaspes falls.  Ari. 
Whither whither, thou fleeting Coward life?  
Bubble of Time, Natures shame, stay; a little, stay!  
Till I have looked myself into revenge,  
And stared this Traitor to a carcase first.  
— It will not be:— Falls.  
The Crown, the Crown, too  
Now is lost, for ever lost— oh!—  
Ambition's, but an Ignis fatuns, I see  
Misleading fond mortality,  
That hurries us about, and sets us down  
Just— where— we— first— begun— Dies.  Zir. 
What a great spreading mighty thing this was,  
And what a nothing now? how soon poor man  
Vanishes into his noontide shadow?  
But hopes o'er fed have seldom better done:— (Hollows.)  
Take up this lump of vanity, and honour, Enter Pasithas.  
And carry it the back way to my lodging,  
There may be use of Statesmen, when theyare dead:  
So.— for the Citadel now, for in such times  
As these, when the unruly multitude  
Is up in swarms, and no man knows which way  
They'll take, 'tis good to have retreat. Exeunt.  Enter Thersames. Ther. 
The Dog-star's got up high, it should be late:  
And sure by this time every waking ear,  
And watchful eye is charmed; and yet me thought  
A noise of weapons struck my ear just now.  
'Twas but my fancy sure, and were it more,  
I would not tread on step, that did not lead  
To my Aglaura, stood all his Guard betwixt,  
With lightning in their hands;  
Danger! thou Dwarf dressed up in Giants clothes,  
That show'st far off, still greater than thou art:  
Go, terrify the simple, and the guilty, such  
As with false Optics, still do look upon thee.  
But fright not Lovers, we dare look on thee  
In thy worst shape, and meet thee in them too.  
Stay— These trees I made my mark, 'tis hereabouts,  
— Love guide me but right this night,  
And Lovers shall restore thee back again  
Those eyes the Poets took so boldly from thee. Exit  Aglaura with a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other. Agl. 
How ill this does become this hand how much the worse  
This suits with this, one of the two should go.  
The she within me says, it must be this—  
Honour says this— and honour is Thersames friend.  
What is that she then? it is not a thing  
That sets a Price, not upon me, but on  
Life in my name, leading me into doubt,  
Which when 't'as done, it cannot light me out.  
For fear does drive to Fate, or Fate if we  
Do fly, o'ertakes, and holds us, till or death,  
Or infamy, or both doth seize us.— Puts out the light.  
Ha!— would 'twere in again.  
Antiques and strange mishapes,  
Such as the Porter to my Soul, mine Eye,  
Was ne'er acquainted with, Fancy lets in,  
Like a distracted multitude, by some strange accident  
Pieced together, fear now afresh comes on,  
And charges Love to home.  
— He comes— he comes—  
Woman, if thou wouldst be the Subject of man's wonder,  
Not his scorn hereafter▪ now show thyself.  Enter Prince rising from the vault she stabs him two or three times, he falls she goes back to her chamber. 
Sudden and fortunate.  
My better Angel sure did both infuse  
A strength, and did direct it. Enter Ziriff.  Zir. 
Aglaura!  Agl. 
Brother—  Zir. 
The same.  
So slow to let in such a longed for Guest?  
Must Joy stand knocking Sister? come, prepare,  
Prepare.—  
The King of Persia's coming to you straight!  
The King!— mark that.  Agl. 
I thought how poor the Joys you brought with you,  
Were in respect of those that were with me:  
Joys, are our hopes stripped of their fears,  
And such are mine; for know, dear Brother,  
The King is come already, and is gone— mark that.  Zir. 
Is this instinct, or riddle? what King? how gone?  Agl. 
The Cave will tell you more—  Zir. 
Some sad mistake— thou hast undone us all. Goes out, enters hastily again.  
The Prince! the Prince! cold as the bed of earth  
He lies upon, as senseless too; death hangs  
Upon his lips.  
Like an untimely frost, upon an early Cherry;  
The noble Guest, his Soul, took it so ill  
That you should use his old Acquaintance so,  
That neither prayers, nor tears, can e'er persuade  
Him back again.— Aglaura swoons: rubs her.  
Hold hold! we cannot sure part thus!  
Sister! Aglaura! Thersames is not dead,  
It is the Prince that calls—  Agl. 
The Prince, where?—  
Tell me, or I will straight go back again,  
Into those groves of Gessemine, thou took'st me from,  
And find him out, or lose myself for ever.  Zir. 
For ever.— I: there's it!  
For in those Groves thou talk'st of,  
There are so many byways, and odd rurning.  
Leading unto such wild and dismal places,  
That should we go without a guide, or stir  
Before Heaven calls, 'tis strongly to be feared  
We there should wander up and down for ever,  
And be benighted to eternity!—  Agl. 
Benighted to eternity?— What's that?  Zir. 
Why 'tis to be benighted to eternity;  
To sit i'th' dark, and do I know not what;  
Unriddle at our own sad cost and charge,  
The doubts the learned here do only move—  Agl. 
What place have murderers brother there? for sure  
The murderer of the Prince must have  
A punishment that Heaven is yet to make.—  Zir. 
How is religion fooled betwixt our loves,  
And fears? poor Girl, for aught that thou hast done,  
Thy Chaplets may be fair and flourishing,  
As his in the Elysium:  Agl. 
Do you think so?  Zir. 
Yes, I do think so.  
The juster Judges of our Actions,  
Would they have been severe upon  
Our weaknesses,  
Would (sure) have made us stronger.—  
Fie! those tears  
A Bride upon the marriage day as properly  
Might shed as thou, here widows do't  
And marry next day after:  
To such a funeral as this, there should be  
nothing common—  
we'll mourn him so, that those that are alive  
Shall think themselves more buried far than he;  
And wish to have his grave, to find his Obsequies:  
But stay— the Body. Brings up the body, she swoons and dies.  
Again! Sister— Aglaura—  
O speak once more, once more look out fair Soul.—  
she's gone.—  
Irrevocably gone.— And winging now the Air,  
Like a glad bird broken from some cage:  
Poor Bankrupt heart, when 'thad not wherewithal  
To pay to sad disaster all that was its due,  
It broke— would mine would do so too.  
My soul is now within me  
Like a well mettled Hawk, on a blind Faulk'ners' fist,  
Me thinks I feel it baiting to be gone:  
And yet I have a little foolish business here  
On earth; I will dispatch:— Exit.  Enter Pasithas, with the body of Ariaspes. Pas. 
Let me be like my burden here, if I had not as lief kill two of the Blood-royal for him, as carry one of them; These Gentlemen of high actions are three times as heavy after death, as your private retired ones; look if he be not reduced to the state of a Courtier of the second form now? and cannot stand upon his own legs, nor do any thing without help, Hum.— And what's become of the great Prince, in prison as they call it now, the toy within us, that makes us talk, and laugh, and fight, I! why there's it, well, let him be what he will, and where he will, I'll make bold with the old Tenement here. Come Sir— come along:— Exit.  Enter Ziriff. Zir. 
All's fast too, here—  
They sleep to night  
I'their winding sheets I think, there's such  
A general quiet.  
Oh! here's light I warrant:  
For lust does take as little rest, as care, or age.—  
Courting her glass, I swear, fie! that's a flatterer Madam,  
In me you shall see trulier what you are. (Knocks. Ent. the Queen  Orb. 
What make you up at this strange hour my Lord?  Zir. 
My business is my boldness warrant,  
(Madam)  
And I could well afford t'have been without it now,  
Had Heaven so pleased.  Orb. 
'Tis a sad Prologue,  
What follows in the name of virtue?  Zir. 
The King.  Orb. 
I: what of him? is well is he not?  Zir. 
Yes.—  
If to be free from the great load  
We sweat and labour under, here on earth  
Be to be well, he is.  Orb. 
Why he's not dead, is he?  Zir. 
Yes Madam, slain— and the Prince too.  Orb. 
How? where?  Zir. 
I know not, but dead they are.  Orb. 
Dead?  Zir. 
Yes Madam.  Orb. 
Didst see them dead?  Zir. 
As I see you alive.  Orb. 
Dead!  Zir. 
Yes, dead.  Orb. 
Well, we must all die;  
The Sisters spin no cables for us mortals;  
theyare thread; and Time, and chance—  
Trust me I could weep now,  
But watery distillations do but ill on graves,  
They make the lodging colder. She knocks.  Zir. 
What would you Madam?  Orb. 
Why my friends, my Lord!  
I would consult and know, what's to be done.  Zir. 
Madam 'tis not so safe to raise the Court;  
Things thus unsettled, if you please to have—  Orb. 
Where's Ariaspes?  Zir. 
In's dead sleep by this time I'm sure,  Orb. 
I know he is not! find him instantly.  Zir. 
I'm gone,— Turns back again.  
But Madam, why make you choice of him, from whom  
If the succession meet disturbance,  
All must come of danger?  Orb. 
My Lord, I am not yet so wise, as to be jealous;  
Pray dispute no further.  Zir. 
Pardon me Madam, if before I go  
I must unlock a secret unto you; such a one  
As while the King did breathe durst know no air,  
Zorannes' lives.  Orb. 
Ha!  Zir. 
And in the hope of such a day as this  
Has lingered out a life, snatching, to feed  
His almost famished eyes,  
Sights now and then of you, in a disguise.  Orb. 
Strange! this night is big with miracle!  Zir. 
If you did love him, as they say you did,  
And do so still; 'tis now within your power!  Orb. 
I would it were my Lord, but I am now  
No private woman, If I did love him once  
(And 'tis so long ago, I have forgot)  
My youth and ignorance may well excused.  Zir. 
Excuse it?  Orb. 
Yes, excuse it Sir.  Zir. 
Though I confess I loved his father much.  
And pity him, yet having offered it  
Unto your thoughts: I have discharged a trust;  
And zeal shall stray no further.  
Your pardon Madam: Exit. Queen studies.  Orb. 
May be 'tis a plot to keep off Ariaspes  
Greatness, which he must fear, because he knows  
He hates him: for these great Statesmen,  
That when time has made bold with the King & Subject,  
Throwing down all fence that stood betwixt their power  
And others right, are on a change,  
Like wanton Salmon coming in with floods,  
That leap o'er wires and nets, and make their way  
To be at the return to every one a prey.  Enter Ziriff, and Pasithas throwing down the dead body of Ariaspes. Orb. 
Ha! murdered too!  
Treason— treason—  Zir. 
But such another word, and half so loud,  
And thouart,—  Orb. 
Why? thou wilt not murder me too?  
Wilt thou villain?  Zir. 
I do not know my temper— Discovers himself.  
Look here vain thing, and see thy sins full blown:  
There's scarce a part in all this face, thou hast  
Not been forsworn by, and Heaven forgive thee for't!  
For thee I lost a Father, Country, friends,  
Myself almost, for I lay buried Long;  
And when there was no use thy love could pay  
Too great, thou mad'st the principle away:  
Had I but stayed, and not began revenge  
Till thou hadst made an end of changing,  
I had had the Kingdom to have killed:  
As wantoness entering a Garden, take  
The first fair flower, they meet, and  
Treasureed in their laps.  
Then seeing more, do make fresh choice again,  
Throwing in one and one, till at the length  
The first poor flower o'ercharged, with too much weight  
Withers, and dies:  
So hast thou dealt with me,  
And having killed me first, I will kill—  Orb. 
Hold— hold—  
Not for my sake, but Orbella's (Sir) a bare  
And single death is such a wrong to Justice,  
I must needs except against it.  
Find out a way to make me long a dying;  
For death's no punishment, it is the sense,  
The pains and fears afore that makes a death:  
To think what I had had, had I had you,  
What I have lost in losing of myself;  
Are deaths far worse than any you can give:  
Yet kill me quickly, for if I have time,  
I shall so wash this soul of mine with tears,  
Make it so fine, that you would be afresh  
In love with it, and so perchance I should  
Again come to deceive you. Sherises up weeping, & hanging down her head.  Zir. 
So rises day, blushing at night's deformity:  
And so the pretty flowers blubbered with dew,  
And ever washed with rain, hang down their heads,  
I must not look upon her: (Goes towards him.)  Orb. 
Were but the Lilies in this face as fresh  
As are the Roses; had I but innocence  
Joined to their blushes, I should then be bold,  
For when they went on begging they were ne'er denied,  
'Tis but a parting kiss Sir—  Zir. 
I dare not grant it.—  Orb. 
Your hand Sir then, for that's a part I shall  
Love after death (if after death we love)  
'Cause it did right the wronged Zorannes', here—  Steps to him, and opens the box of poison, Zorannes' falls. 
Sleep, sleep for ever, and forgotten too,  
All but thy ills, which may succeeding time  
Remember, as the Seaman does his marks,  
To know what to avoid, may at thy name  
All good men start, and bad too, may it prove  
Infection to the Air, that people dying of it  
May help to curse thee for me. (Turns to the body of Ariaspes.  
Could I but call thee back as easily now;  
But that's a Subject for our tears, not hopes!  
There is no piecing Tulips to their stalks,  
When they are once divorced by a rude hand;  
All we can do is to preserve in water  
A little life, and give by couretous Art  
What scanted Nature wants Commission for,  
That thou shalt have: for to thy memory  
Such Tribute of moist sorrow I will pay,  
And that so purified by love, that on thy grave  
Nothing shall grow but Violets & Primroses,  
Of which too, some shall be  
Of the mysterious number, so that Lovers shall  
Come thither not as to a tomb, but to an Oracle. She knocks, and raises the Court.  Enter Ladies and Courtiers, as out of their beds. Orb. 
Come! come! help me to weep myself away,  
And melt into a grave, for life is but  
Repentance nurse, and will conspire with memory,  
To make my hours my tortures.  Ori. 
What Scene of sorrow's this? both dead?  Orb. 
Dead? ay! and 'tis but half death's triumphs this,  
The King and Prince lie somewhere, just  
Such empty trunks as these.  Ori. 
The Prince?  
Then in grief's burden I must bear a part.  Sem. 
The noble Ariaspes— valiant Ziriff too.— Weeps.  Orb. 
Weepest thou for him, fond Prodigal? dost know  
On whom thou spendest thy tears? this is the man  
To whom we owe our ills; the false Zorannes'  
Disguised, not lost; but kept alive, by some Enter Pasithas, surveys the bodies, finds his Master.  
Incensed Power, to punish Persia thus:  
He would have killed me too, but Heaven was just,  
And furnished me with means, to make him pay  
This score of villainy, ere he could do more.  Pas. 
Were you his murderer then?— Pasithas runs at her, kills her, and flies.  Ori. 
Ah me! the Queen.— Rub her till she come to herself.  Sem. 
How do you Madam?  Orb. 
Well,— but I was better, and shall— Dies.  Sem. 
Oh! she is gone for ever.  Enter Lords in their night-gowns, Orsames, Philan. Ors. 
What have we here?  
A Churchyard? nothing but silence, and grave?  Ori. 
Oh! here has been (my Lords)  
The blackest night the Persian world e'er knew,  
The King and Prince are not themselves exempt  
From this arrest; but pale and cold, as these,  
Have measured out their lengths.  Lo. 
Impossible! which way?  Sem. 
Of that we are as ignorant as you:  
For while the Queen was telling of the Story,  
An unknown villain here has hurt her so,  
That like a sickly Taper, she but made  
One flash, and so expired:  Enter tearing in Pasithas. Phi. 
Here he is, but no confession.  Or. 
Torture must force him then:  
Though 'Twill indeed, but weakly satisfy  
To know now they are dead, how they did die.  Phi. 
Come take the bodies up, and let us all  
Go drown ourselves in tears, this massacre  
Has left so torn a State, that 'twill be policy  
Aswell as debt, to weep till we are blind,  
For who would see the miseries behind?    

Epilogue.  

Our Play is done, and yours doth now begin:  
What different Fancies, people now are in?  
How strange, and odd a mingle it would make,  
If e'er they rise; 'twere possible to take  
All votes.—  
But as when an authentic Watch is shown,  
Each man winds up, and rectifies his own,  
So in our very Judgements; first there sits  
A grave Grand Jury on it of Town-wits;  
And they give up their verdict; then again  
The other Jury of the Court comes in  
(And that's of life and death) for each man sees  
That oft condemns, what th' other Jury frees:  
Some three days hence, the Lady's of the Town  
Will come to have a Judgement of their own:  
And after them, their servants; then the City,  
For that is modest, and is still last witty.  
'Twill be a week at least yet ere they have  
Resolved to let it live, or give't a grave:  
Such difficulty, there is to unite  
Opinion; or bring it to be right.    

Epilogue for the Court.  
SIR:  

THat th' abusing of your ear's a crime,  
Above th' excuse any six lines in rhyme  
Can make, the Poet knows: I am but sent  
T' entreat he may not be a Precedent,  
For he does think that in this place there he  
Many have done't as much and more than he  
But here's, he says, the difference of the Fates,  
He begs a Pardon after't, they Estates.   
FINIS.   

AGLAURA. REPRESENTED At the Court, by his Majesty's Servants.  
Written by Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
LONDON, Printed for Tho Walkley, and are to be sold by Humphrey Moseley, at his shop, at the sign of the Prince's arms in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1646.   

Prologue.  

FOre love, a mighty Sessions: and I fear,  
Though kind last Sizes, 'twill be now severe;  
For it is thought, and by judicious men,  
Aglaura 'scap't only by dying then:  
But 'twould be vain for me now to endear,  
Or speak unto my Lords, the Judges here,  
They hold their places by condemning still,  
And cannot show at once mercy and skill;  
For wit's so cruel unto wit, that they  
Are thought to want, that find not want i'th' play,  
But Ladies you, who never liked a plot.  
But where the Servant had his Mistress got,  
And whom to see a Lover die it grieves,  
Although 'tis in worse language that he lives,  
Will likeed w are confident, since here will be,  
That your Sex ever liked variety.    

Prologue to the Court.  

'tIs strange perchance (you'll think) that she that died  
At Christmas, should at Easter be a Bride:  
But 'tis a privilege the Poets have,  
To take the long-since dead out of the grave:  
Nor is this all, old Heroes a sleep  
'Twixt marble coverlets, and six foot deep  
In earth, they boldly wake, and make them do  
All they did living here— sometimes more too,  
They give fresh life, reverse and alter Fate,  
And yet more bold, Almightie-like create:  
And out of nothing only to deify  
Reason, and Reason's friend, Philosophy,  
Fame, honour, valour, all that's great, or good,  
Or is at lest 'mongst us, so understood,  
They give, heavens theirs, no handsome woman dies,  
But if they please, is straight some star i'th' skies—  
But oh—  
How those poor men of Metre do  
Flatter themselves with that, that is not true,  
And 'cause they can trim up a little prose,  
And spoil it handsomely, vainly suppose  
Th' are Omnipotent, can do all those things  
That can be done only by Gods and Kings.  
Of this wild guilt, he fain would be thought free,  
That writ this Play, and therefore (Sir) by me,  
He humbly begs, you would be pleased to know,  
Aglaura's but reprieved this night, and though  
She now appears upon a Poets call,  
she's not to live, unless you say she shall.    

ACTUS V. SCENA I.  Enter Ziriff, Pasithas, and Guard: he places 'em: and Exit. A State set out. Enter Ziriff, Jolas, Ariaspes. jol. 
A Glorious night!  Ari. 
Pray Heaven it prove so.  
Are we not there yet?  Zir. 
'Tis about this hollow. They Enter the Cave.  Ari. 
How now! what region are we got into?  
Th'inheritance of night;  
Have we not mistaken a turning Ziriff,  
And stepped into the confines of some melancholy  
Devil's Territory?  jol. 
Sure 'tis a part of the first Chaos,  
That would not suffer any change.  Zir. 
No matter Sir, 'tis as proper for our  
Purpose, as the Lobby for the waiting women.  
Stay you here, I'll move a little backward,  
And so we shall be sure to put him past  
Retreat: you know the word if it be the prince. Ziriff goes to the door  Enter King. Ziriff. 
Here Sir, follow me, all 's quiet yet.  King. 
Is he not come then?  Zir. 
No.  King. 
Where's Ariaspes?  Zir. 
Waiting within.  jol. 
I do not like this waiting,  
Nor this fellows leaving of us.  Ari. 
This place does put odd thoughts into thee.  
Then thou art in thine own nature too,  
As jealous, as Love, or Honour; wear thy sword  
In readiness, and think how near we are a Crown.  Zir. 
Revenge!— Guard seizeth on'em.  King. 
Ha! what's this?  Zir. 
Bring them forth.— Brings them forth.  Ari. 
The King.  Zir. 
Yes, and the Prince's friend— Discovers himself.  
D'ye know this face?  King. 
Zorannes'.  Zor. 
The very same,  
The wronged Zorannes',— King—  
D you stare.—  
Away with them where I appointed.  King. 
traitors, let me go;  
Villain, thou dar'st not do this—  Zor. 
Poor Counterfeit,  
How fain thou now wouldst act a King and art not:  
Stay you,— to Ariaspes.  
Unhand him,— Whispers.  
Leave us now.— Exeunt. Manet Ariasp. Zoran.  Ari. 
What does this mean?  
Sure he does intend the Crown to me.  Zor. 
We are alone,  
Follow me out of the wood, and thou shalt be  
Master of this again,  
And then best arme and title take it.  Ari. 
Thy offer is so noble, in gratitude Icannot  
But propound gentler conditions,  
We will divide the Empire.  Zor. 
Now by my father's soul,  
I do almost repent my first intents,  
And now could kill thee scurvily, for thinking  
If I had a mind to rule  
I would not rule alone,  
Let not thy easy faith (lost man)  
Fool thee into so dull an heresy;  
Orbella is our quarrel, & I have thought it fit,  
That love should have a nobler way of Justice,  
Than Revenge, or Treason.  
If thou dar'st die handsomely, follow me. Ex. And enter both again  Zor. 
There,— Gives him his sword.  Ari. 
Extremely good; Nature took pains I swear,  
The villain and the brave are mingled handsomely:—  Zir. 
'Twas Fate that took it, when it decreed  
We two should meet, nor shall they mingle now,  
We are but brought together straight to part.— Fight.  Ari. 
Some Devil sure has borrowed this shape,  
My sword ne'er stayed thus long to find an entrance.  Zir. 
To guilty men, all that appear is Devil;  
Come trifler come.— Fight.  Ari. 
Dog, thou hast it,  Zir. 
Why then it seems my star's as great as his, Ariaspes pants, and runs at him to catch his sword  
I smile at thee,  
Thou now wouldst have me kill thee,  
And 'tis a courtesy I cannot afford thee,  
I have bethought myself, there will be use  
Of thee,— Pasithas— to the rest with him. Exit.  Enter Pasithas, and two of the Guard.— Exeunt. Enter Thersames. Ther. 
The Dog-star's got up high, it should be late:  
And sure by this time every waking ear  
And watchful eye is charmed; and yet me thought  
A noise of weapons struck my ear just now.  
'Twas but my Fancy sure, and were it more,  
I would not tread one step, that did not lead  
To my Aglaura, stood all his Guard betwixt,  
With lightning in their hands.  
Danger, thou Dwarf dressed up in Giants clothes,  
That show'st far off still greater than thou art,  
Go, terrify the simple, and the guilty, such  
As with false Optics still do look upon thee:  
But fright not Lovers, we dare look on thee  
In thy worst shapes and meet thee in them too.—  
Stay these trees I made my mark, 'tis hereabouts,  
— Love guide me but right this night,  
And Lovers shall restore thee back again  
Those eyes the Poets took so boldly from thee. Exit.  A Taper Table out. Enter Aglaura, with a Torch in one hand, a Dagger in the other. Agl. 
How ill this does become this hand? much worse  
This suits with this, one of the two should go.  
The she within me says, it must be this—  
Honour says this— and honour is Thersames friend.  
What is that she then? is it not a thing  
That sets a Price, not upon me, but on  
Life in my name, leading me into doubt,  
Which when 't'as done it cannot light me out.  
For fear does drive to Fate, or Fate if we  
Do fly, o'ertakes, and holds us, till or death,  
Or infamy, or both do seize us.— Puts out the light.  
Ha!— would 'twere in again. Antiques & strange mishapes,  
Such as the Porter to my Soul, mine Eye,  
Was ne'er acquainted with, Fancy lets in,  
Like a disrouted multitude, by some strange accident  
Pieced together, fear now afresh comes on,  
And charges Love too home.  
— He comes, he comes.— A little noise below.  
Woman, if thou wouldst be the Subject  
Of man's wonder, Not his scorn hereafter,—  
— Now show thyself.  Enter Thersames from the vault, she stabs him as he riseth. Ther. 
Unkindly done—  Agl. 
The Prince's voice, defend it Goodness?  Ther. 
What art thou that thus poorly  
Hast destroyed a life?  Agl. 
Oh sad mistake, 'tis he?  Ther. 
Hast thou no voice?  Agl. 
I would I had not, nor a being neither.  Ther. 
Aglaura, it cannot be?  Agl. 
Oh still believe so, Sir,  
For 'twas not I Indeed, but fatal Love.  Ther. 
Love's wounds used to be gentler than these were,  
The pains they give us have some pleasure  
In them, and that these have not. Enter Ziriff with a taper.  
Oh do not say 'twas you, for that does wound again:  
Guard me my better Angel,  
Do I wake? my eyes (since I was man)  
ne'er met with any object gave them so much trouble,  
I dare not ask neither to be satisfied,  
She looks so guiltily—  Agl. 
Why do you stare and wonder at a thing  
That you yourself have made thus mizerable?  Zir. 
Good gods, and I o'the party too.  Agl. 
Did you not tell me that the King this night  
Meant to attempt my honour; that our condition  
Would not admit of middle ways, and that we must  
Send them to graves, or lie ourselves in dust?  Zir. 
Unfortunate mistake? Ziriff knocks.  
I never did intend our safety by thy hands: Enter Pasithas.  
Pasithas, go instantly and fetch Andrages  
From his bed; how is it with you Sir?  Ther. 
As with the besieged:  
My soul is so beset it does not know,  
Whether't had best to make a desperate  
Sally out by this port or not?  Agl. 
Sure I shall turn statue here.  Ther. 
If thou dost love me, weep not Aglaura:  
All those are drops of blood and flow from me.  Zir. 
Now all the gods defend this way of expiation,  
Think'st thou thy crime, Aglaura would be less,  
By adding to it? or canst thou hope  
To satisfy those powers, whom great sins  
Do displease, by doing greater.  Agl. 
Discourteous courtesy!  
I had no other means left me than this,  
To let Thersames know I would do nothing  
To him, I would not do unto myself,  
And that thou takest away.  Ther. 
Friend, bring me a little nearer,  
I find a kind of willingness to stay  
And find that willingness something obeyed.  
My blood now it persuades itself  
You did not call in earnest,  
Makes not such haste.—  Agl. 
Oh my dearest Lord,  
This kindness is so full of cruelty,  
Puts such an ugliness on what I have done,  
That when I look upon it needs must fright  
Me from myself, and which is more insufferable.  
I fear from you.  Ther. 
Why should that fright thee, which most comforts me?  
I glory in it, and shall smile i'th' grave  
To think our love was such, that nothing  
But itself could e'er destroy it.  Agl. 
Destroy it? can it have ever end?  
Will you not be thus courteous then in the other world?  
Shall we not be together there as here?  Ther. 
I cannot tell whether I may or not.  Agl. 
Not tell?  Ther. 
No:  
The Gods thought me unworthy of thee here,  
And when thou art more pure  
Why should I not more doubt it?  Agl. 
Because if I shall be more pure,  
I shall be then more fit for you.  
Our Priests assure us an Elysium,  
And can that be Elysium where true Lovers  
Must not meet? Those Powers that made our loves,  
Did they intend them mortal,  
Would sure have made them of a courser stuff,  
Would they not my Lord?—  Ther. 
Prithee speak still,  
This music gives my soul such pleasing business,  
Takes it so wholly up, it finds not leisure to  
Attend unto the summons death does make;  
Yet they are loud and peremptory now,  
And I can only— Faints.  Agl. 
Some pitying Power inspire me with  
A way to follow him: heart wilt thou not  
Break it of thyself.  Zir. 
My griefs besot me:  
His soule will sail out with this purple tide,  
And I shall here be found staring  
Aftered like a man that's come too short o'th' ship,  
And's left behind upon the land. She swoons.  Enter Andrages. 
Oh welcome, we come here lies Andrages  
Alas too great a trial for thy art.  And. 
There's life in him: from whence these wounds?  Zir. 
Oh 'tis no time for story.  And. 
'Tis not mortal my Lord, bow him gently,  
And help me to infuse this into him;  
The soule is but asleep and not gone forth.  Ther. 
Oh— ho:—  Zir. 
Hark▪ the Prince does live.  Ther. 
What e'er thou art hast given me now a life,  
And with it all my cares and miseries,  
Expect not a reward no not a thanks.  
If thou wouldst merit from me,  
(Yet wh would be guilty of so lost an action)  
Restore me to my quietness again,  
For life and that are most incompatible.  Zir. 
Still in despairs:  
I did not think till now 'twas in the power  
Of Fortune to have robbed Thersames of himself,  
For pity, Sir▪ and reason live;  
If you will die die not Aglaura's murdered,  
That's not so handsome: at least die not  
Her murdered and her murderer too;  
For that will surely follow. Look up, Sir,  
This violence of Fortune cannot last ever:  
Who knows but all these clouds are shadows,  
To set off your fairer days, if it grows blacker,  
And the storms do rise, this harbour's always open.  Ther. 
What sayest thou, Aglaura?  Agl. 
What says Andrages?  And. 
Madam, would Heaven his mind would admit  
As easy cure, as his body will,  
'Twas only want of blood,  
And two hours' rest restores him to himself.  Zir. 
And by that time it may be Heaven  
Will give our miseries some ease:  
Come Sir, repose upon a bed,  
There's time enough to day.  Ther. 
Well, I will still obey,  
Though I must fear it will be with me,  
But as 'tis with tortured men,  
Whom States preserve only to wrack again. Exeunt.  Take off table. Enter Ziriff with a taper. Zir. 
All fast too, here  
They sleep to night  
I'their winding sheets, I think, there's such  
A general quiet.  
Oh! here's light I warrant you:  
For lust does take as little rest, as care, or age.  
Courting her glass, I swear, fie! that's a flatterer Madam,  
In me you shall see trulier what you are. He knocks, Enter Queen.  Orb. 
What make you up at this strange hour, my Lord?  Zir. 
My business is my boldness warrant,  
(Madam)  
And I could well afford t'have been without it now,  
Had Heaven so pleased.  Orb. 
'Tis a sad Prologue,  
What follows in the name of virtue?  Zir. 
The King—  Orb. 
I: what of him? is well, is he not?  Zir. 
Yes,—  
If to be on's journey to the other world  
Be to be well, he is.  Orb. 
Why he's not dead, is he?  Zir. 
Yes, Madam, dead.  Orb. 
How? where?  Zir. 
I do not know particulars.  Orb. 
Dead!  Zir. 
Yes (Madam.)  Orb. 
Art sure he's dead?  Zir. 
Madam, I know him as certainly dead,  
As I know you too must die hereafter.  Orb. 
Dead!  Zir. 
Yes, dead.  Orb. 
We must all die.  
The Sisters spin no cables for us mortals;  
theyare threads; and Time, and chance—  
Trust me I could weep now,  
But watery distillations do but ill on graves,  
They make the lodging colder. She knocks.  Zir. 
What would you Madam?  Orb. 
Why my friends, my Lord;  
I would consult and know what's to be done.  Zir. 
(Madam) 'tis not so safe to raise the Court;  
Things thus unsettled, if you please to have—  Orb. 
Where's Ariaspes?  Zir. 
In's dead sleep by this time sure,  Orb. 
I know he is not! find him instantly.  Zir. 
I'm gone,— Turns back again.  
But Madam, why make you choice of him, from whom  
If the succession meet disturbance,  
All must come of danger?  Orb. 
My Lord, I am not yet so wise, as to be  
Jealous; Pray dispute no further.  Zir. 
Pardon me (Madam) if before I go  
I must unlock a secret to you; such a one  
As while the King did breathe durst know no air,  
Zorannes' lives.  Orb. 
Ha!  Zir. 
And in the hope of such a day as this  
Has lingered out a life, snatching, to feed  
His almost famished eyes,  
Sights now and then of you, in a disguise.  Orb. 
Strange! this night is big with miracle!  Zir. 
If you did love him, as they say you did,  
And do so still; 'tis now within your power!  Orb. 
I would it were, my Lord, but I am now  
No private woman, if I did love him once,  
(as 'tis so long ago, I have forgot)  
My youth and ignorance may well excused.  Zir. 
Excuse it?  Orb. 
Yes, excuse it Sir.  Zir. 
Though I confess I loved his father much▪  
And pity him, yet having offered it  
Unto your thoughts: I have discharged a trust;  
And zeal shall stray no further.  
(Your pardon Madam:) Exit.  Orb. 
May be 'tis but a plot to keep off Ariaspes  
Greatness which he must fear, because he knows  
He hates him: for these great Statesmen,  
That when time has made bold with the King  
And Subject, throwing down all fence  
That stood betwixt their power  
And others right, are on a change,  
Like wanton Salmon coming in with floods,  
That leap o'er wires and nets and make their way  
To be at the return to every one a prey.  Enter Ziriff. Zir. 
Look here vain thing and see thy sins full blown:  
There's scarce a part in all this face, thou hast  
Not been forsworn by, and Heaven forgive thee for't!  
For thee I lost a Father, Country, friends,  
Myself almost, for I lay buried long;  
And when there was no use thy love could pay  
Too great, thou mad'st the principle away:— Prompt.  
As wantoness entering a Garden, take  
The first fair flower they meet, and  
Treasured in their laps.  
Then seeing more, do make fresh choice again,  
Throwing in one and one, till at the length  
The first poor flower o'ercharged, with too much weight  
Withers and dies:  
So hast thou dealt with me,  
And having killed me first, I will kill—  Orb. 
Hold— hold—  
Not for my sake, but Orbella's (Sir) a bare  
And single death is such a wrong to Justice,  
I must needs except against it.  
Find out a way to make me long a dying;  
For death's no punishment, it is the sense,  
The pains and fears afore that makes a death:  
To think what I had had, had I had you,  
What I have lost in losing of myself;  
Are deaths far worse than any you can give:  
Yet kill me quickly, for if I have time,  
I shall so wash this soul of mine with tears,  
Make it so fine, that you would be afresh  
In love with it, and so perchance I should  
Again come to deceive you. She rises up weeping, & hanging down her head.  Zir. 
So rises day, blushing at night's deformity:  
And so the pretty flowers blubbered with dew,  
And over washed with rain, hang down their heads.  
I must not look upon her: (Queen Goes towards him.)  Orb. 
Were but the Lilies in this face as fresh  
As are the Roses; had I but innocence  
Joined to these blushes, I should then be bold,  
For when they went a begging they were ne'er denied,  
'Tis but a parting kiss Sir—  Enter Pasithas, and two Guard. Zir. 
I dare not grant it.— Pasithas— away with her.  
A bed put out. Thersames and Aglaura on it, Andrages by.  Ther. 
She wakeed me with a sigh,  
And yet she sleeps herself, Sweet Innocence,  
Can it be sin to love this shape,  
And if it be not, why am I persecuted thus?—  
She sighs again, sleep that drowns all cares,  
Cannot I see charm loves? blessed pillows,  
Through whose fineness does appear  
The Violets, Lilies and the Roses  
You are stuffed withal, to whose softness  
I owe the sweet of this repose,  
Permit me to leave with you this,— Kisses them, she wakes.  
See if I have not wakeed her,  
Sure I was borne, Aglaura, to destroy  
Thy quiet.  Agl. 
Mine, my Lord,  
Call you this drowsiness a quiet then?  
Believe me, Sir, 'twas an intruder I much  
Struggled with, and have to thank a dream,  
Not you, that it thus left me.  Ther. 
A dream! what dream, my Love?  Agl. 
I dreamed (Sir) it was day,  
And the fear you should be found here.  Enter Ziriff. Zir. 
Awake; how is it with you, Sir?  Ther. 
Well, extremely well, so well, that had I now  
No better a remembrancer than pain,  
I should forget I e'er was hurt,  
Thanks to Heaven, and good Andrages.  Zir. 
And more than thanks I hope we yet shall  
Live to pay him. How old's the night?  And. 
Far-spent I fear, my Lord.  Zir. 
I have a cause that should be heard  
Yet ere day break and I must needs entreat  
You Sir to be the Judge in't.  Ther. 
What cause Zorannes'?  Zir. 
When you have promised— (Zorannes'.  Ther. 
'Twere hard I should deny thee any thing.— Exit  
knowst thou, Andrages, what he means?  And. 
Nor cannot guess, Sir,— Draw in the bed.  
I read a trouble in his face, when first  
He left you, but understood it not.  Enter Zorannes', King Ariaspes, Jolas, Queen and two or three Guard. Zor. 
Have I not pitched my nets like a good Huntsman?  
Look, Sir, the noblest of the Herd are here.  Ther. 
I am astonished.  Zor. 
This place is yours.— Helps him up.  Ther. 
What wouldst thou have me do.  Zor. 
Remember, Sir, your promise,  
I could do all I have to do, alone;  
But Justice is not Justice unless't be justly done:  
Here than I will begin, for here began my wrongs.  
This woman (Sir) was wondrous fair, and wondrous  
Kind,— I, fair and kind, for so the story runs,  
She gave me look for look, and glance for glance,  
And every sigh like echoes was returned,  
We sent up vow by vow, promise on promise,  
So thick and strangely multiplied,  
That sure we gave the heavenly Registers  
Their business, and other mortals oaths  
Than went for nothing, we felt each others pains,  
Each others joys, thought the same thought,  
And spoke the very same;  
We were the same and I have much a do  
To think she could be ill, and I not  
Be so too, and after this, all this (Sir)  
She was false, loved him, and him,  
And had I not begun revenge,  
Till she had made an end of changing,  
I had had the Kingdom to have killed,  
What does this deserve?  Ther. 
A punishment he best can make  
That suffered the wrong.  Zor. 
I thank you, Sir,  
For him I will not trouble you,  
His life is mine, I won it fairly,  
And his is yours, he lost it foully to you—  
To him (Sir) now:  
A man so wicked that he knew no good,  
But so as't made his sins the greater for't.  
Those ills, which singly acted bred despair  
In others, he acted daily, and ne'er thought  
Upon them.  
The grievance each particular has against him  
I will not meddle with, it were to give him  
A long life, to give them hearing,  
I'll only speak my own.  
First then the hopes of all my youth,  
And a reward which Heaven had settled on me,  
(If holy contracts can do any thing)  
He ravished from me, killed my father,  
Aglaura's father, Sir, would have whored my sister,  
And murdered my friend, this is all:  
And now your sentence, Sir.  Ther. 
We have no punishment can reach these crimes:  
Therefore 'tis justest sure to send him where  
theyare wittier to punish than we are here:  
And cause repentance oft stops that proceeding,  
A sudden death is sure the greatest punishment.  Zor. 
I humbly thank you Sir.  King. 
What a strange glass th'▪ have showed me now myself  
In; our sins like to our shadows,  
When our day is in its glory scarce appeared,  
Towards our evening how great and monstrous  
They are.  Zor. 
Is this all you have to say?— Draws.  Ther. 
Hold:— now go you up.  Zor. 
What mean you, Sir?  Ther. 
Nay, I denied not you,—  
That all thy accusations are just,  
I must acknowledge,  
And to these crimes, I have but this t'oppose,  
He is my Father, and thy Sovereign.—  
'Tis wickedness (dear Friend) we go about  
to punish, and when w'have murdered him,  
What difference is there 'twixt him and  
Ourselves, but that he first was wicked?—  
Thou now wouldst kill him 'cause he killed thy Father,  
And when thoust killed, have not I the self same  
Quarrel?  Zor. 
Why Sir, you know you would yourself  
Have done it.  Ther. 
True: and therefore 'tis I beg his life,  
There was no way for me to have  
Redeemed th'intent, but by a real  
Saving of it. Be ready Courtiers, and Guard, with their swords drawn, at the breasts of the Prisoners.  
If he did ravish from thee thy Orbella,  
Remember that that wicked issue had  
A noble parent Love,— Remember  
How he loved Zorannes' when he was Ziriff,—  
there's something due to that.  
If you must needs have blood for your revenge,  
Take it here— despise it not Zorannes': Zorannes' turns away.  
The gods themselves, whose greatness  
Makes the greatness of our sins,  
And heightens'em above what we can do  
Unto each other, accept of sacrifice  
For what we do 'gainst them,  
Why should not you, and 'tis much thriftier too:  
You cannot let out life there, but my honour  
Goes, and all the life you can take here,  
Posterity will give me back again;  
See, Aglaura weeps:  
That would have been ill Rhetoric in me,  
But where it is, it cannot but persuade.  Zor. 
Th'have thawed the ice about my heart;  
I know not what to do.  King. 
Come down come down, I will be King again,  
There's none so fit to be the Judge of this  
As I; the life you showed such zeal to save,  
I here could willingly return you back;  
But that's the common price of all revenge.  Enter Guard, Orsames, Philan, Courtiers, Orithie, Semanthe. Jol. Ari. 
Ha, ha, ha: how they look now?  Zor. 
Death: what's this?  Ther. 
Betrayed again;  
All th'ease our Fortune gives our miseries is hope,  
And that still proving false, grows part of it.  King. 
From whence this Guard?  Ari. 
Why Sir, I did corrupt, while we were his prisoners,  
One of his own to raise the Court; shallow souls,  
That thought we could not countermine,  
Come Sir, y'are in good posture to dispatch them.  King. 
Lay hold upon his instrument:  
Fond man, dost think I am in love with villainy?  
All the service they can do me here  
Is but to let these see the right I do  
Them now is unconstrained, then thus I do proceed.  
Upon the place Zorannes' lost his life,  
I vow to build a tomb, and on that tomb  
I vow to pay three whole years penitence,  
If in that time I find that heaven and you  
Can pardon; I shall find again the way  
To live amongst you.  Ther. 
Sir be not so cruel to yourself this is an age,—  King. 
'Tis now irrevocable, thy Father's lands  
I give thee back again, and his commands;  
And with them, leave to wear the Tiara,  
That man there has abused.—  
To you Orbella,  
Who it seems are foul as well as I,  
I do prescribe the self same physic  
I do take myself:  
But in another place, and for a longer time,  
Diana's Nunnery.  Orb. 
Above my hopes.  King. 
For you, who still have been  
The ready instrument of all my cruelties,  
And there have cancelled all the bonds of brother,  
Perpetual banishment: nor, should  
This line expire, shall thy right have a place.  Ari. 
Hell and Furies.— Exit.  King. 
Thy crimes deserve no less; yet 'cause thou wert  
Heavens instrument to save my life,  
Thou only hast that time of banishment,  
I have of penitence.— Comes down. Ziriff offers to kiss the King's hand  Jol. 
May it be plague and famine here till I return.  
No: thou shalt not yet forgive me:  King. 
Aglaura thus I freely part with thee,  
And part with all fond flames and warm desires,  
I cannot fear new agues in my blood  
Since I have overcome the charms  
Thy beauty had, no other ever can  
Have so much power, Thersames, thou look'st pale,  
Is't want of rest?  Ther. 
No Sir; but that's a story for your ear— They whisper.  Ors. 
A strange and happy change.  Ori. 
All joys wait on you ever.  Agl. 
Orithie  
How for thy sake now could I wish  
Love were no Mathematic point,  
But would admit division, that Thersames might.  
Though at my charge, pay thee the debt he owes thee.  Ori. 
Madam, I loved the Prince, not myself;  
Since his virtues have their full rewards,  
I have my full desires.  King. 
What miracles of preservation have we had?  
How wisely have the stars prepared you for felicity?  
Nothing endears a good more than the contemplation  
Of the difficulty we had to attain to it:  
But see, Night's Empire's out,  
And a more glorious auspiciously does begin;  
Let us go serve the gods, and then prepare  
For jollity, this day I'll borrow from my vows.  
Nor shall it have a common celebration;  
Since't must be,  
A high record to all posterity.— Exeunt omnes.   

Epilogue.  

PLays are like Feasts, and every Act should be  
Another Course, and still variety:  
But in good faith provision of wit  
Is grown of late so difficult to get,  
That do we what we can, we are not able,  
Without cold meats to furnish out the Table.  
Who knows but it was needless too? may be  
'Twas here, as in the Coachman's trade; and he  
That turns in the least compass, shows most Art:  
How e'er, the Poet hopes (Sir) for his part,  
You'll like not those so much, who show their skill  
In entertainment, as who show their will.   
FINIS.   

THE GOBLINS A Comedy. Presented at the Private House in Blackfriars, by His Majesty's servants.  
WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Sign of the Prince's Arms in St Paul's Churchyard. MDCXLVI.   

PROLOGUE.  

WIt in a Prologue, Poets justly may  
Style a new imposition on a Play.  
When Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher ruled the Stage,  
There scarce were ten good palates in the age,  
More curious Cooks than guests; for men would eat  
Most heartily of any kind of meat,  
And then what strange variety each Play,  
A Feast for Epicures, and that each day.  
But mark how oddly it is come about,  
And how unluckily it now falls out:  
The palates are grown, higher number increased,  
And there wants that which should make up the Feast;  
And yet y'are so unconscionable. You'd have  
Forsooth of late, that which they never gave,  
Banquet's before; and after.—  
Now pox on him that first good Prologue writ,  
He left a kind of rend charge upon wit;  
Which if succeeding Poets fail to pay,  
They forfeit all their worth, and that's their play:  
YE have Ladies humours, and y'are grown to that,  
You will not like the man less that his boots and hat  
Be right; no play, unless the Prologue be,  
And Epilogue writ to curiosity.  
Well (Gentiles) '●is the grievance of the place,  
And pray consider't, for here's just the case;  
The richness of the ground is gone and spent,  
men's brains grow barren, and you raise the Rent.    

Francelia.  

ACT I. SCENE I  Enter as to a Duel: Samorat, Philatell, Torcular. Samorat, 

BUt my Lords,  
May not this harsh business  
Yet be left undone!  
Must you hate me because I love your sister;  
And can you hate at no less rate than death?   Phil. 
No, at no less:  
Thou art the blaster of our fortunes,  
The envious cloud that darknest all our day,  
While she thus prodigally, and fond  
Throws away her love on thee;  
She has not wherewithal to pay a debt  
Unto the Prince.—  Sam. 
Is this all?  Tor. 
Faith, what if in short we do not think  
You worthy of her?—  Sam. 
I swear that shall not make a quarrel.  
I think so too;  
‛ Have urged it often to myself;  
Against myself have sworned as oft to her,  
Pray let this satisfy.—  Phil. 
Sure (Torcular) he thinks we come to talk  
Look you Sir;— draws.  
And brother since his friend has failed him,  
Do you retire.  Tor. 
Excuse me (Philatell)  
I have an equal interest in this,  
And fortune shall decide it.—  Phil. 
It will not need, he's come.—  Enter Orsabrin. Ors. 
Mercury protect me! what are these?  
The brothers of the high way!  Phil. 
A stranger by his habit.—  Tor. 
And by his looks a Gentleman.  
Sir,— will you make one!  
We want a fourth.—  Ors 
I shall be robbed with a trick now!  Sam. 
My Lords excuse me!  
This is not civil.  
In what concerns myself,  
None but myself must suffer.—  Ors. 
A duel by this light,—  
Now has his modesty,  
And tother's forwardness warmed me▪— goes towards them.  
Gentlemen, I wear a sword,  
And commonly in readiness,  
If you want one, speak Sir.— to Samorat.  
I do not fear much suffering.  Sam. 
Y'are noble Sir,  
I know not how t'invite you to it;  
Yet, there is Justice on my side,  
And since you please to be a witness  
To our actions, 'tis fit you know our Story.—  Ors. 
No Story Sir I beseech you,—  
The cause is good enough as 'tis,  
It may be spoiled i'th' telling.  Phil. 
Come we trifle then.—  Sam. 
It is impossible to preserve I see  
My honour and respect to her.  
And since you know this too my Lord,  
It is not handsome in you thus to press me,  
But come.—  
Torcular beckons to Orsabrin.—  
Oh! I understand you Sir.— Exeunt.  Philatells and Samoratt fight. Phil. 
In posture still.—  
Oh, y'are mortal then it seems.— A slight wound.  Sam. 
Thou hast undone thyself rash man,  
For with this blood thou hast let out a spirit  
Will vex thee to thy grave.—  Fight again, Samorat takes away Philatells sword, and taketh breath, then gives it him. Sam. 
I'm cool again,  
Here my lord—  
And let this Present bind your friendship.—  Phil. 
Yes thus.— Runs at him.  Sam. 
Treacherous, and low.—  Enter Orsabrin. Ors. 
I have drilled my gentleman,  
I have made as many holes in him  
As would sink a Ship Royal  
In sight of the Haven:—  
How now?— Samorat upon his knee.  
'Sfoot yonder's another going that way too.—  
Now have I forgot of which side I'm on,  
No matter.  
I'll help the weakest;  
There's some Justice in that.  Phil. 
The Villain sure has slain my brother.  
If I have any friends above,  
Guide now my hand unto his heart.— Orsabrin puts it by, runs at him, Samo steps in.  Sam. 
Hold noble youth!  
Destroy me not with kindness:  
Men will say he could have killed me,  
And that injustice should not be;  
For honours sake, leave us together.—  Ors. 
'Tis not my business fight— puts up.  
Th'employment's yours Sir:  
If you need me,  
I am within your call.  Sam. 
The gods reward thee:—  
Now Philatell thy worst.— They fight again, and close, Samo: forces his sword.  Enter Orsabrin. Ors. 
Hell and the Furies are broke loose upon us,  
Shift for yourself Sir.— Flies into the woods several ways pursued by Thiefs in Devils habits.  Enter Torcular, weak with bleeding. Tor. 
It will not be,—  
My body is a Jade:  
I feel it tyre, and languish under me.  
Those thoughts came to my soul  
Like Screech-owls to a sick man's window.—  Enter Thiefs back again. Thee. 
Here— here—  Tor. 
Oh! I am fetched away alive.- Exeunt. They bend him, and carry him away.  Enter Orsabrin. Ors. 
Now the good gods preserve my senses right,  
For they were never in more danger:  
i'th' name of doubt, what could this be?  
Sure 'twas a Conjurer I dealt withal:  
And while I thought him busy at his prayers,  
'Twas at his circle, levying this Regiment.  
here they are again.—  Enter Samoratt. Sam. 
Friend— Stranger— Noble youth—  Ors. 
here— here—  Sam. 
Shift, shift the place,  
The wood is dangerous,  
As you love safety,  
Follow me.— Exeunt.  Enter Philatell. Phi. 
Th' have left the place,  
And yet I cannot find the body any where—  
May be he did not kill him then,  
But he recovered strength,  
And reached the Town—  
— It may be not too.—  
Oh that this hour could be called back again.  
— But 'tis too late,  
And time must cure the wound that's given by fate.— Exit.  Enter Samoratt, Orsabrin. Ors. 
I'th' shape of Lions too sometimes,  
And Bears?—  Sam. 
Often Sir.—  Ors. 
Pray unriddle.—  Sam. 
The wiser sort do think them Thiefs,  
Which but assume these forms to rob  
More powerfully.—  Or. 
Why does not then the State  
Set out some forces and suppress them?  Sam. 
It often has (Sir) but without success.—  Or. 
How so?—  Sam. 
During the time those levies are abroad,  
Not one of them appears,  
There have been  
That have attempted under ground;  
But of those as of the dead  
There has been no return.—  Or. 
Strange.  Sam. 
The common people think them a race  
Of honest and familiar Devils,  
For they do hurt to none,  
Unless resisted;  
They seldom take away but with exchange;  
And to the poor they often give,  
Return the hurt, and sick recovered  
Reward, or punish, as they do find cause.—  Or. 
How cause?—  Sar. 
Why Sir, they blind still those they take,  
And make them tell the stories of their lives,  
Which known, they do accordingly.—  Or. 
You make me wonder! Sir,—  
How long is't since they thus have troubled you?  Sam. 
It was immediately upon  
The great deciding day, fought  
'Twixt the two pretending families,  
The Samorats, and the Orsabrins.  Or. 
Ha! Orsabrin?  Sam. 
But Sir, that story's sad, and tedious,  
weare entering now the Town,  
A place less safe than were the Woods,  
Since Torcular is slain.—  Or. 
How Sir—  Sam. 
Yes.—  
He was the Brother to the Prince's Mistress,  
The loved one too.  
If we do prize ourselves at any rate,  
We must embark, and change the clime,  
There is no safety here.—  Or. 
Hum.—  Sam. 
The little stay we make, must be  
In some dark corner of the Town:  
From whence, the day hurried to th'other world,  
we'll sally out to order for our journey.  
That I am forced to this, it grieves me not;  
But (gentle youth) that you should for my sake.—  Or. 
Sir, lose not a thought on that  
A storm at Sea threw me on Land,  
And now a Storm on Land drives me  
To Sea again.—  Sam. 
Still noble,— Exeunt.  Enter Nassurat, Pellagrin. Na. 
Why; suppose 'tis to a Wench,  
You would not go with me, would you?—  Pella. 
To choose,— to choose,—  Na. 
Then there's no remedy.— Flings down his hat, unbuttons himself draws.  Pella. 
What dost mean?—  Na. 
Why? since I cannot leave you alive,  
I will try to leave you dead.  Pella. 
I thank you kindly Sir, very kindly.  
Now the Sedgly curse upon thee,  
And the great Fiend, ride through thee  
Booted and Spurred, with a Sith on his neck;  
Pox on thee, I'll see thee hanged first;  
'Sfoot, you shall make none of your fine  
Points of honour, up at my charge:  
Take your course if you be so hot.  
Be doing,— be doing,— Ex.  Na. 
I am got free of him at last:  
There was no other way;  
H'as been as troublesome as a woman that  
Would be loved whether a man would or not:  
And h'as watched me as if he had been  
My Creditors Sergeant. If they should have dispatched  
In the mean time, there would be fine  
Opinions of me.— I must cut his throat  
In earnest, if it should be so.— Ex.  Enter Thiefs, A horn sounds. Th. 
A prize— A prize— A prize—  Perid. 
Some duel (Sir) was fought this morning, this  
Weakened with loss of blood, we took, the rest  
Escaped.—  Tamoren. 
he's fitter for our Surgeon, then for us,  
Hereafter we'll examine him—  Again a shout. Thee. 
A prize— A prize— A prize— (They set them down) Ardelan, Piramant.  Tam. 
Bring them, bring them, bring them in,  
See if they have mortal Sin,  
Pinch them, as you dance about,  
Pinch them till the truth come out.—  Peri. 
What art?  Ar. 
Extremely poor, and miserable.  Per. 
'Tis well, 'tis well, proceed,  
No body will take that away from thee,  
Fear not,— what Country?—  Ar. 
— Francelia—  Per. 
Thy name?—  Ar. 
Ardelan.—  Per. 
And thine,—  Pira. 
Piramant.—  Per. 
Thy story,— come—  Ar. 
What story!—  Per. 
Thy life, thy life.— (Pinch him)  Ar. 
Hold▪ hold,—  
You shall have it;— (he sighs)  
It was upon the great defeat  
Given by the Samorats unto the Orsabrins,  
That the old Prince for safety of the young,  
Committed him unto the trust of Garradan,  
And some few servants more,  
'Mongst whom I filled a place.—  Tam. 
Ha! Garradan!  Ar. 
Yes.  Tam. 
Speak out, and set me nearer;  
So; void the place, proceed.—  Ar. 
We put to Sea, but had scarce lost the sight  
Of Land, ere we were made a prey  
To Pirates, there Garradan  
Resisting the first Board, changed life with death;  
With him the servants too,—  
All but myself and Piramant.  
Under these Pirates ever since  
Was Orsabrin brought up,  
And into several Countries did they carry him.  Tam. 
Knew Orsabrin himself?—  Ar. 
Oh! no, his spirit was too great;  
We durst not tell him any thing,  
But waited for some accident  
Might throw us on Francelia,  
▪ 'Bout which we hovered often,  
And we were near it now,  
But Heaven decreed it otherwise:— (he sighs)  Tam. 
Why dost thou sigh?—  Ar. 
Why do I sigh? (indeed,)  
For tears cannot recall him;  
Last night about the second watch, the  
Winds broke loose,  
And vexed our Ships so long,  
That it began to reel and totter,  
And like a drunken man,  
Took in so fast his liquor,  
That it sunk down i'th' place.—  Tam. 
How did you scape?—  Ar. 
I bound myself unto a mast,  
And did advise my Master to do so,  
For which he struck me only,  
And said I did consult too much with fear.—  Tam. 
'Tis a sad story.— (within there)  
Let them have Wine and  
Fire,— but hark you,— (Whispers)  Enter Thiefs. With a Poet. The. 
A Prize.— A prize,— A prize.—  Per. 
Set him down,—  Poet. 
— Sings.—  
— And for the blue,—  
Give him a Cup of Sack 'twill mend his hue.—  Per. 
Drunk as I live.— (Pinch him, pinch him.  
What art?—  Poet. 
I am a Poet,  
A poor dabbler in Rhyme.—  Per. 
Come confess, confess;  Poet. 
I do confess, I do want money.  Per. 
By the description he's a Poet indeed.  
Well proceed.— (Pinch him)  Poet. 
What d'ye mean?—  
Pox on you.  
Prithee let me alone,  
Some Candles here,—  
And fill us t'other Quart, and fill us  
Rogue, Drawer, the t'other Quart,  
Some small Beer.—  
And for the blue,  
Give him a Cup of Sack 'twill mend his hue.—  Tam. 
Set him by till he's sober,  
Come let's go see our duelist  
Dressed.— Exeunt.  Enter Taylor, two Sergeants. Tay. 
he's something tall, and for his Chin,  
It has no bush below:  
Marry a little wool, as much as an unripe  
Peach doth wear;  
Just enough to speak him drawing towards a man.—  Ser. 
Is he of fury?  
Will he foin,  
And give the mortal touch?  Tay. 
Oh no!  
He seldom wears his Sword.  Ser, 
Topo is the word if he do,  
Thy debt, my little Myrmidon.  Tay. 
A yard and a half I assure you without abatement.  Ser. 
'Tis well, 'tis wondrous well:  
Is he retired into this house of pleasure?  Tay. 
One of these he's entered;  
'Tis but a little waiting,  
You shall find me at the next Tavern.— Exit.  Ser. 
Stand close, I here one coming.  Enter Orsabrin. Or. 
This house is sure no Seminary for Lucreces,  
Then the Matron was so over diligent,  
And when I asked for meat or drink,  
She looked as if I had mistook myself,  
And called for a wrong thing,  
Well ● 'tis but a night, and part of it I'll spend  
In seeing of this Town,  
So famous in our Tales at Sea.—  Ser. 
Look, look, muffled, and as melancholy after't  
As a Gamester upon loss; upon him, upon him,  Or. 
How now my friends,  
Why do you use me thus?  Ser. 
Quietly; 'twill be your best way  Or. 
Best way? for what?  Ser. 
Why, 'tis your best way,  
Because there will be no other,  
Topo is the word,  
And you must along.—  Or. 
Is that the word?  
Why then, this is my Sword— (Run away)  Ser. 
Murder, murder, murder;  
H'as killed the Prince's Officer,  
Murder— Murder— Murder.—  Or. 
I must not stay,  
I hear them swarm.— Exit.  Enter Constable, People. Con. 
Where is he, where is he?  Ser. 
Here,— here— oh a Manmender,  
A Manmender,  
Has broached me in so many places,  
All the Liquor in my body will run out.  Con. 
In good sooth (neighbour) has tapped you at the  
Wrong end too;  
He has been busy with you here behind;  
As one would say, lend a hand, some of you,  
And the rest follow me.— Exeunt  Enter Orsabrin. Or. 
Still pursued!  
Which way now?  
I see no passage;  
I must attempt this wall,—  
Oh— a lucky door.  
And open.— Exit.  Enters again. 

Where am I now?  
A garden, and a handsome house,  
If't be thy will a Porch too't,  
And I'm made;  
'Twill be the better lodging of the two.— (goes to the Porch)   Enter Maid. Phemilia. 
Oh! welcome, welcome Sir,  
My Lady hath been in such frights for you.  Or. 
Hum! for me?—  Phe. 
And thought you would not come to night:  Or. 
Troth, I might very well have failed her:  Phe. 
she's in the Gallery alone i'th' dark.  Or. 
Good, very good.  Phe. 
And is so melancholy,—  Or. 
Hum.—  Phe. 
Have you shut the Garden doors?  
Come I'll bring you to her, enter, enter.—  Or. 
Yes, I will enter:  
He who has lost himself makes no great venture.— Exit.   

ACT II.  Enter Sabrina, Orsabrin. Sab. 
OH welcome, welcome, as open air to prisoners,  
I have had such fears for you.  Or. 
she's warm, and soft as lover's language:  
She spoke too, prettily;  
Now have I forgot all the danger I was in.—  Sab. 
What have you done to day (my better part)  Or. 
Kind little Rogue!  
I could say the finest things to her me thinks,  
But then she would discover me,  
The best way will be to fall too quietly.— (kisses her)  Sab. 
How now my Samorat,  
What saucy heat hath stolen into thy blood,  
And heightened thee to this?  
I fear you are not well.—  Or. 
'Sfoot! 'tis a Platonique:  
Now cannot I so much as talk that way neither.  Sab. 
Why are you silent, Sir?  
Come I know you have been in the field to day.  Or. 
How does she know that?—  Sab. 
If you have killed my brother, speak:  
It is no new thing that true Love  
Should be unfortunate:  Or. 
'Twas her brother I killed then,  
Would I were with my Devils again:  
I got well of them,  
That will be here impossible.—  Enter Phemillia. Phe. 
Oh! Madam, Madam,  
Y'are undone;  
The garden walls are scaled,  
A flood of people are entering th'house.  Or. 
Good— why here's variety of ruin yet.—  Sab. 
'Tis so,  
The Feet of Justice  
Like to those of time,  
Move quick,  
And will destroy I fear as sure:  
Oh Sir, what will you do,  
There is no venturing forrh,  
My Closet is the safest,  
Enter there,  
While I go down and meet their fury  
Hinder the search if possible.— Exit.  Or. 
Her Closet,  
Yea where's that?  
And, if I could find it,  
What should I do there?  
She will return,—  
I will venture out.— Exit.  Enter the Prince, Philatell Phontrell, Company, Music. Phi. 
The lightest airs; 'twill make them  
More secure,—  
Upon my life he'll visit her to night.— Music plays and sings.  Prince. 
Nor she, nor any lesser light  
Appears,—  
The calm and silence 'bout the place,  
Perswardes me she does sleep.  Phi. 
It may be not, but hold,  
It is enough,— let us retire  
Behind this Pillar, Phontrell, is thy place,  
As thou didst love thy Master show thy care,  
You to th'other Gate,  
There's thy Ladder.— Exeunt.  Enter Sabrina. Sab. 
Come forth my Samorat, come forth,  
Our fears were false,  
It was the Prince with Music,  
Samorat, Samorat.,  
He sleeps,— Samorat,  
Or else he's gone to find me out  
I'th' Gallery, Samorat, Samorat, it must be so.— Exit.  Enter Orsabrin. Ors. 
This house is full of Thresholds,  
And Trapdoors,  
I have been i'th' Cellar,  
Where the Maids lie too,  
I laid my hand groping for my way  
Upon one of them,  
And she began to squeak,  
Would I were at Sea again i'th' storm,  
Oh! a door:  
Though the Devil were the Porter,  
And kept the Gate, I'd out.—  Enter Samorat Or. 
Ha! guarded? taken in a trap?  
Nay, I will out,  
And there's no other  
But this.— (Retires and draws, runs at him Another pass they close.  Sam. 
Philatells in ambush on my life-  Enter Sabrina, and Phemillia with a light Sab. 
Where should he be?  
Ha!—  
Good Heavens what spectacle is this? my Samorat!  
Some apparition sure,— (They discover one another by the light, throw away their weapons, and embrace.  Sam. 
My noble friend,  
What angry, and malicious Planet.  
Governed at this point of time!—  Sab. 
(My wonder does grow higher)  Or. 
That which governs ever:  
I seldom knew it better.  Sam. 
It does amaze me Sir, to find you here.  
How entered you this place?  Or. 
Forced by unruly men it'h street.  Sab. 
Now the mistake is plain.  Or. 
Are you not hurt?  Sab. 
No,— but you bleed?  Or. 
I do indeed,  
But 'tis not here,  
This is a scratch,  
It is within to see this beauty;  
For by all circumstance, it was her brother,  
Whom my unlucky Sword found out to day.  Sab. 
Oh! my too cruel fancy.— (Weeps)  Sam. 
It was indeed thy Sword,  
But not thy fault,  
I am the cause of all these ills.  
Why d'ye weep Sabrina!—  Sab. 
Unkind unto thyself, and me,  
The tempest, this sad news has raised within me  
I would have laid with Sheares,  
But thou disturb'st me,  
Oh! Samorat.  
Hadst thou consulted but with love as much  
As honour, this had never been.  Sam. 
I have no love for thee that has not had  
So strict an union with honour still,  
That in all things they were concerned alike,  
And if there could be a division made,  
It would be found  
Honour had here the leaner share:  
'Twas love that told me 'twas unfit  
That you should love a Coward.  Sab. 
These handsome words are now  
As if one bound up wounds with silk,  
Or with fine knots,  
Which do not help the cure,  
Or make it heal the sooner:  
Oh! Samorat this accident  
Lies on our love,  
Like to some foul disease,  
Which though it kill it not,  
Yet wilt destroy the beauty;  
Disfigured so,  
That't will look ugly to th' world hereafter.—  Sam. 
Must then the Acts of Fate be crimes of men?  
And shall a death he pulled upon himself,  
Be laid on others?  
Remember Sweet, how often  
You have said it in the face of Heaven,  
That 'twas no love,  
Which length of time, or cruelty of chance,  
Could lessen, or remove,  
Oh kill me not that way Sabrina,  
This is the nobler;  
Take it, and give it entrance any where— Kneels and presents his Sword.  
But here,  
For you so fill that plaee,  
That you must wound yourself.—  Or. 
Am I so slight a thing?  
So bankrupt?  
So unanswerable in this world?  
That being principally i'th' debt,  
Another must be called upon,  
And I not once looked after?  
Madam why d'ye throw away your Tears]  
On one that's irrecoverable?  Sab. 
Why? therefore Sir,  
Because he's irrecoverable.  Ors. 
But why on him?  
He did not make him so.  Sab 
I do confess my anger is unjust,  
But not my sorrow Sir,  
Forgive these tears my Samorat,  
The debts of nature must be paid,  
Though from the stock of love:  
Should they not Sir?  Sam. 
Yes.—  
But thus the precious minutes pass,  
And time, ere I have breathed the sighs,  
Due to our parting,  
Will be calling for me.  Sab. 
Parting?—  Sam. 
Oh yes Sabrina, I must part,  
As day does from the world,  
Not to return till night be gone,  
Till this dark Cloud be over,  
Here to be found,  
Were foolishly to make a present  
Of my life unto mine enemy,  
Retire into thy Chamber fair,  
There thou shalt know all.—  Sab. 
I know too much already.— Exeunt.  Enter Phontrell. 

Hold rope for me, and then hold rope for him.  
Why, this is the wisdom of the Law now,  
A Prince loses a subject, and does not  
Think himself paid for the loss,  
Till he loses another:  
Well I will do my endeavour  
To make him a saver;  
For this was Samorat..— Exit.   Enter Samorat, Orsabrin bleeding. Or. 
Let it bleed on,— you shall not stir  
I swear.—  Sam. 
Now by the friendship that I owe thee,  
And the Gods beside, I will  
Noble youth, were there no danger in thy wound,  
Yet would the loss of blood make thee  
Unfit for travel,  
My servants wait me for direction,  
With them my Surgeon, I'll bring him instantly,  
Pray go back.— Exit.  Enter Philatell, Guard. Phil. 
There.— (places them at the door.  
You to the other Gate,  
The rest follow me.— Ex.  Enter Orsabrin, Sabrina. Sab. 
Hark a noise Sir.  
This tread's too loud to be my Samorats.  Searchers. 
(Which way?— which way)— (to them.  
Some villainy in hand,  
Step in here Sir, quick, quick.— Locks him into her Closet.  Enter Philatell, Guard, and pass o'er the Stage. Phi 
Look every where.— (Philatell dragging out his Sister.  
Protect thy brother's murderer?  
Tell me where thou hast hid him,  
Or by my father's ashes I will search  
In every vein thou hast about thee, for him.— (Orsabrin bounces thrice at the door, it flies open.  Enter Orsabrin. Or. 
Ere such a villainy should be  
The Gods would lend unto a single arm  
Such strength, it should have power to punish  
An Army, such as thou art.—  Phi. 
Oh! are you here Sir?—  Or. 
Yes I am here Sir.— (sight)  Phil. 
Kill her.— (She interposed  Or. 
Oh! save thyself fair excellence,  
And leave me to my Fate.—  
Base▪— Comes behind him, catches bold of his Arms.  Phi. 
So bring him one,  
The other is not far,— Exeunt.  Enter Sabrina, Phemilia. Sab Run, run, Phemillia 

To the Garden walls,  
And meet my Samorat,  
Tell him, oh tell him any thing,  
Charge him by all our loves  
He instantly take Horse,  
And put to Sea,  
There is more safety in a storm,  
Then where my brother is.— Exeunt.    

ACT III.  Enter Thiefs. Thee. 
A Prize— A prize, A prize,  Per. 
Bring him forth, bring him forth; (They dance about him and sing.  
Welcome, welcome, mortal wight,  
To the Mansion of the night:  
Good or bad, thy life discover  
Truly all thy deeds declare;  
For about thee Spirits hover  
That can tell, tell what they are.  
— Pinch him, if he speak not true,  
— Pinch him, pinch him black and blue,  Per. 
What art thou?  Stra 
I was a man.  Per. 
Of whence?—  Str. 
The Court.—  Per. 
Whether now bound?  Stir, 
To my own house.  Per. 
Thy name?  Stra. 
Stramador.  Per. 
Oh you fill a place about his Grace,  
And keep out men of parts, d'ye not?  Str. 
Yes.—  Per. 
A foolish utensil of State,  
Which like old Plate upon a Gaudy day,  
'Sbrought forth to make a show, and that is all;  
For of no use y'are, y'had best deny this:  Str. 
Oh no!—  Per. 
Or that you do want wit,  
And then talk loud to make that pass for it?  
You think there is no wisdom but in form;  
Nor any knowledge like to that of whispers:—  Str. 
Right, right.  Per. 
Then you can hate, and fawn upon a man  
At the same time,  
And dare not urge the vices of another,  
You are so foul yourself;  
So the Prince seldom hears truth.  Str. 
Oh! very seldom.  Per. 
And did you never give his Grace odd Counsels.  
And when you saw they did not prosper,  
Persuade him take them on himself.—  Str. 
Yes, yes, often.—  Per. 
Get baths of Sulphur quick,  
And flaming oils,  
This crime is new, and will deserve it.  
He has inverted all the rule of State;  
Confounded policy,  
There is some reason why a Subject  
should suffer for the errors of his Prince;  
But why a Prince should beare  
The faults of's Ministers, none, none at  
All.— Cauldrons of Brimstone there.  Thee. 
Great Judge of this infernall place  
Allow him yet the mercy of the Court.  Str. 
Kind Devil.—  Per. 
Let him be boiled in scalding lead a while  
T'enure, and to prepare him for the other.  Str. 
Oh! hear me, hear me,  Per. 
Stay!  
Now I have better thought upon't,  
He shall to earth again:  
For villainy is catching, and will spread:  
He will enlarge our Empire much,  
Then weare sure of him at any time,  
So 'tis enough— where's our Governor?— Exeunt.  Enter Goalor, Samorat, Nassurat, Pellegrin, three others in disguise jai. 
His hair curls naturally,  
A handsome youth.—  Sam. 
The same,— (Drinks to him.  
Is there no speaking with him?  
He owes me a trifling sum.—  jay. 
Sure Sir the debt is something desperate,  
There is no hopes he will be brought  
To clear with the world,  
He struck me but for persuading him  
To make even with Heaven,  
He is as surly as an old Lion,  
And as sullen as a bulfinch,  
He never eat since he was taken.— Gentlemen  Sam. 
I must needs speak with him,  
Hark in the ear.—  jai. 
Not for all the world.  Sam. 
Nay I do but motion such a thing,  jai. 
Is this the business Gentlemen?  
Fare you well.—  Sam. 
There is no choice of ways then.— (Run after him, draw their daggers, set it to his breast.  
Stir not, if thou but think'st a noise,  
Or breathest aloud, thou breath'st thy last.  
So bind him now.—  
Undo,  
Quickly, quickly,  
His Jerkin, his Hat.  Na. 
What will you do?  
None of these Beards will serve,  
There's not an eye of white in them.  Pell. 
Pull out the Silvered ones in his  
And stick them in the other.  Na. 
Cut them, cut them out,  
The bush will suit well enough  
With a grace still.  Sam. 
Desperate wounds must have desperate  
Cures, extremes must thus be served,—  
You know your parts,  
Fear not, let us alone.—  
Sings a Catch.  
Some drink,— what Boy,— some drink—  
Fill it up, fill it up to the brink,  
When the Pots cry clink,  
And the Pockets chink,  
Then 'tis a merry world.  
To the best, to the best, have at her,  
And a Pox take the Woman-hater.—  
The Prince of darkness is a Gentleman,  
Mahu, Mohu is his name,  
How d'ye Sir?  
You gape as you were sleepy,  
Good faith he looks like an— O yes.  Pell 
Or as if he had overstrained himself  
At a deep note in a Ballad.—  Na. 
What think you of an Oyster at a low ebb?  
Some liquor for him;  
You will not be a Pimp for life you Rogue,  
Nor hold a door to save a Gentleman,  
You are— Pox on him, what is he Pellagrin?  
If you love me, let's stifle him,  
And say 'twas a sudden judgement upon him  
For swearing; the posture will confirm it.  Pell. 
We're in excellent humour,  
Let's have another bottle,  
And give out that Anne my wife is dead,  
Shall I Gentlemen?—  Na. 
Rare Rogue in Buckram,  
Let me bite thee,  
Before me thou shalt go out wit,  
And upon as good terms,  
As some of those in the Ballad too.—  Pell. 
Shall I so?— Why then foutree for the Guise,  
Saines shall accrue, and ours shall be,  
The black eyed beauties of the time,  
I'll tick you for old ends of Plays:—  
They sing,—  
A Round,— A Round,— A Round,—  
A Round,— A Round,— A Round— (Knock)  
Some body's at door.  
Prithee, prithee, Sirrah, Sirrah,  
Try thy skill.  Na. 
Who's there.  Messen. 
One Sturgelot a Jailor here?—  Na. 
Such a on there was my friend,  
But he's gone above an hour ago:  
Now did this Rogue whisper in his heart  
That's a lie,— and for that very reason,  
I'll cut his throat.—  Pell. 
No prithee now,— for thinking?  
Thou shalt not take the pains,  
The Law shall do't—  Na. 
How,— how?—  Pell. 
Marry we'll write it over when we're gone,  
He joined in the plot, and put himself  
Into this posture, merely to disguise it to  
The world.—  Na. 
Excellent,  
Here's to thee for that conceit,  
We should have made rare Statesmen,  
We are so witty in our mischief.  
Another song, and so let's go,  
It will be time.  
— Sing.—  
A health to the Nut brown Lass,  
With the hazel eyes let it pass.  
She that has good eyes  
Has good thighs,  
Let it pass,— let it pass.—  
A much to the lively Grey,  
'Tis as good it'h night as the day,  
She that has good eyes,  
Has good thighs,  
Drink away,— drink away.—  
I pledge, I pledge, what ho some Wine,  
Here's to thine, and to thine,  
The colours are Divine.—  
But oh the black, the black  
Give me as much again, and let't be Sack:  
She that has good Eyes,  
Has good Thighs,  
And it may be a better knack.—  Na. 
A reckoning Boy.— (They knock)  
There.— (pays him)  
Dost hear  
Here's a friend of ours ' has forgotten himself  
A little (as they call it)  
The Wine has got into his head,  
As the frost into a hand, he is benumbed,  
And has no use of himself for the present.  Boy. 
Hum Sir.— (Smiles.)  Na. 
Prithee lock the door, and when he  
Comes t' himself,  
Tell him he shall find us at the old place,  
He knows where.  Boy. 
I will Sir.— Exeunt.  Enter Orsabrin. Or. 
To die! yea what's that?  
For yet I never thought on't seriously;  
It may be ' 'tis.— hum.—  
It may be 'tis not too.—  Enter Samorat, as Gaoler undoes his Fetters. 
Ha.— (as amazed.)  
What happy intercession wrought this change?  
To whose kind prayers owe I this my friend?  Sam. 
Unto thy virtue— Noble youth  
The God's delight in that as well as prayers.  
I am—  Or. 
Nay, nay,—  
Be what thou wilt,  
I will not questioned:  
Undo, undo.  Sam. 
Thy friend Samorat.  Or. 
Ha?  Sam. 
Lay by thy wonder,  
And put on these clothes,  
In this disguise thou'lt pass unto the  
Prison-gates, there you shall find  
One that is taught to know you;  
He will conduct you to the corner  
Of the wood, and there my horses wait  
Us.—  
I'll throw this Gaoler off in some odd place,  Or. 
My better Angel.— Exennt.  Enter Thiefs. Per. 
It is ' e'en as hard a world for Thiefs  
As honest men,— nothing to be got—  
No prize stirring.—  1. Thee. 
None, but one with horses,  
Who seemed to stay for some  
That were to come,  
And that has made us wait thus long.  Per. 
A lean days work, but what remedy?  
Lawyers, that rob men with their own consent,  
Have had the same:  
Come, call in our Perdues,  
We will away.— (they whistle.)  Enter Orsabrin, as seeking the horses. Or. 
I hear them now,  
Yonder they are.—  Per. 
Hollow, who are these?  
Any of ours?  Thee. 
No, stand close,  
They shall be presently,  
Yield— yield.—  Or. 
Again betrayed? there is no end of my misfortune,  
Mischief vexes me  
Like a quotidian,  
It intermits a little, and returns  
ere I have lost the memory of  
My former fit.—  Per. 
Sentences, sentences,  
A way with him— A way with him.— Exeunt.  Enter Goaler, Drawers, over the Stage. Jailer. 
I am the Gaoler, undone, undone,  
Conspiracy, a cheat, my prisoner, my prisoner.— Exeunt.  Enter Samorat. Sam. 
No men?— nor horses?—  
Some strange mistake,—  
May it be, th' are sheltered in the wood.—  Enter Peridor and other Thiefs, examining the young Lord Torcular that was hurt. Perid. 
And if a Lady did but step aside,  
To fetch a Masque or so,  
You followed after still,  
As if she had gone proud?  
Ha; is't not so?—  Tor. 
Yes.—  Per. 
And if you were used but civilly in a place,  
You gave out doubtful words upon't,  
To make men think you did enjoy.  Tor. 
Oh! yes, yes.  Per. 
Made love to every piece of cried-up beauty▪  
And swore the same things over to them.  Tor. 
The very same.—  Per. 
Abominable.  
Had he but sworn new things, yet't had been  
Tolerable.—  
Reads the sum of the Confession.  Th. 
Let me see,— let me see.  
Hum.  
Court Ladies Eight,  
Of which two great ones.—  
Country Ladies twelve.  
Termers all.—  Per. 
Is this right?  Tor. 
Very right.  Per. 
Citizen's wives of several trades,  
He cannot count them.—  
Chamber maids, and Country wenches,  
About thirty:—  
Of which the greater part,  
The night before th'were married,  
Or else upon the day:  Per. 
A modest reckoning, is this all?—  Tor. 
No.—  
I will be just t'a scruple.  Per. 
Well said,— well said,—  
Out with it.—  Tor. 
Put down two old Ladies more.  Per. 
I'th' name of wonder,  
How could he think of old,  
In such variety of young?  Tor. 
Alas I could never be quiet for them.  Per. 
Poor Gentleman.  
Well what's to be done with him now?  
Shall he be thrown into the Cauldron  
With the Cuckolds,  
Or with the Jealous?  
That's the hotter place.  Per. 
Thou mistak'st,  
'Tis the same, they go together still:  
Jealous and Cuckolds differ no otherwise  
Then Sheriff and Alderman;  
A little time makes th'one th'other.  
What think you of Gelding him,  
And sending him to earth again,  
Amongst his women?  
'Twood be like throwing a dead fly  
Into an Aunt's nest.  
There would be such tearing, pulling,  
And getting up upon him,  
They would worry the poor thing  
To death,—  Th. 1. 
Excellent,  
Or leave a string as they do sometimes  
In young Colts:  
Desire and impotence,  
Would be a rare punishment.  
Fie, fie, the common disease of age,  
A very old man has it.  Enter The. 
A prize,— A prize,— A prize, (Horns blow, Brass Plots, etc.  Ors. 
This must be Hell by the noise  Ta. 
Set him down, set him down;  
Bring forth the newest wrack,  
And flaming pinching Irons,  
This is a stubborn piece of flesh,  
'Twould have broke loose.  Or. 
So, this comes of wishing myself  
With Devils again.—  Per. 
What art?—  Or. 
The slave of Chance,  
One of Fortune's fools;  
A thing she kept alive on earth  
To make her sport,  Per. 
Thy name?  Or. 
Orsabrin.  Per. 
Ha! he that lived with Pirates?  
Was lately in a storm?  Or. 
The very same.—  Ta. 
Such respect as you have paid to me,— (whispers)  
Prepare to Revels, all that can be thought on:  
But let each man still keep his shape.— (Exit.)  
They unbind him, all bow to him,  (Music) Or. 
Ha!  
Another false smile of Fortune?— (They bring out several suit of clothes, and a banquets  
Is this the place the gowned Clerks  
Do fright men so on earth with?  
Would I had been here before.  
Master Devil;  
To whose use are these set out?  Ta. 
To yours Sir.  Or. 
I'll make bold to change a little— (takes a hat.  
Could you not afford a good plain Sword (dresses himself.  
To all this gallantry?—  Per. 
we'll see Sir.  Or. 
A thousand times civiller than men,  
And better natured.  Enter Tamoren, Reginella. Tam. 
All leave the room.  
I like not this.— Ex.  Tam. 
Cupid do thou the rest,  
A blunter arrow, and but slackly drawn,  
Would perfect what's begun,  
When young and handsome meet,  
— The work's half done.—  Or. 
She cannot be less than a goddess;  
And 't must be Proserpina:  
I'll speak to her, though Pluto's self stood by,  
Thou beauteous Queen of this dark world,  
That mak'st a place so like a hell,  
So like a Heaven, instruct me  
In what form I must approach thee,  
And how adore thee?—  Re. 
Tell me what thou art first:  
For such a creature  
Mine eyes did never yet behold.—  Or. 
I am that which they name above a man:  
I'th' watery Elements I much have lived,  
And there they term me Orsabrin.  
Have you a name too?—  Re. 
Why do you ask?  Or. 
Because I'd call upon it in a storm,  
And save a Ship from perishing sometimes.  Re. 
'Tis Reginella.  Or. 
Are you a woman too?  
I never was in earnest until now.  Re. 
I know not what I am,  
For like myself I never yet saw any.  Or. 
Nor ever shall.  
Oh! how came you hither?  
Sure you were betrayed.  
Will you leave this place,  
And live with such as I am?  Re. 
Why may not you live here with me?  Or. 
Yes.—  
But I'd carry thee where there is a glorious light,  
Where all above is spread a Canopy,  
Studded with twinkling Gems,  
Beauteous as Lovers eyes;  
And underneath Carpets of flowery Meads  
To tread on.—  
A thousand thousand pleasures  
Which this place can ne'er afford thee.—  Re. 
Indeed!  Or. 
Yes indeed—  
I'll bring thee unto shady walks,  
And Groves fringed with Silver purling streams,  
Where thou shalt hear soft feathered Queristers  
Sing sweetly to thee of their own accord.  
I'll fill thy lap with early flowers;  
And whilst thou bindest them up mysterious ways,  
I'll tell thee pretty tales, and sigh by thee:  
Thus press thy hand and warm it thus with kisses.  Re. 
Will you indeed?—  Enter King Per. above with others. Ta. 
Fond Girl:  
Her rashness sullies the glory of her beauty,  
'Twil make the conquest cheap,  
And weaken my designs,  
Go part them instantly.  
And bind him as before;  
Be you his keeper Peridore.  Per. 
Yes, I will keep him.  Or. 
Her eyes like lightning shoot into my heart  
They'll melt it into nothing,  
ere I can present it to her,  
Sweet Excellence.—  Enter Thiefs. 

Ha! why is this hateful curtain drawn before my eyes?  
If I have sinned, give me some other punishment;  
Let me but look on her still,  
And double it, oh▪ whether, whether do you hurry me?   Per. 
Madam, you must in.— (carry him away.  R. 
Ay me, what's this?—  
Must!— Ex.  Enter other Devils. Th. 1. 
We have had such sport;  
Yonder's the rarest Poet without,  
Has made all his confession in blank verse:  
Not left a God, nor a Goddess in Heaven,  
But fetch't them all down for witnesses;  
Has made such a description of Styx,  
And the Ferry,  
And verily thinks has passed them.  
Inquires for the blessed shades,  
And asks much after certain British blades,  
One Shakespeare and Fletcher:  
And grew so peremptory at last,  
He would be carried where they were.  Th. 2. 
And what did you with him?  Th. 1. 
Mounting him upon a Cowlstaff,  
Which (tossing him something high)  
He apprehended to be Pegasus.  
So we have left him to tell strange lies,  
Which he'll turn into verse;  
And some wise people hereafter into Religion.   

ACT IU.  Enter Samorat, Nashorat, Pellegrin. Na. 
GGod faith 'tis wondrous well,  
We have e'en done like eager disputers;  
And with much ado  
Are got to be just where we were.  
This is the corner of the wood.  Sa. 
Ha! 'tis indeed.—  Pell. 
Had we no walking fire,  
Nor saucer- eyed Devil of these woods that led us?  
Now am I as weary  
As a married man after the first week.  
And have no more desire to move forwards,  
Then a Post-horse that has passed his Stage.  Na. 
'Sfoot yonder's the night too, stealing away  
With her black gown about her:  
Like a kind wench, that had stayed out the  
Last minute with a man.  Pel. 
What shall we do, Gentlemen?  
I apprehend falling into this Jailor's  
Hands strangely; he'd use us worse  
Than we did him.  Na. 
And that was ill enough of Conscience:  
What think you of turning Beggars?  
Many good Gentlemen have done't: or Thiefs?  Pel. 
That's the same thing at Court:  
Begging is but a kind of robbing th' Exchequer.  Na. 
Look four fathom and a half OOS—  
In contemplation of his Mistress:  
There's a Feast, you and I are out now Pellegrin;  
'Tis a pretty trick, this enjoining in absence.  
What a rare invention ' 'twood be,  
If a man could find out a way to make it real.  Pel. 
Dost think there's nothing in't as 'tis?  Na. 
Nothing, nothing.  
Didst never hear of a dead Alexander,  
Raised to talk with a man?  
Love's a learned Conjurer,  
And with the glass of Fancy will do as strange things?  
You thrust out a hand,  
Your Mistress thrusts out another:  
You shake that hand that shakes you again:  
You put out a lip; she puts out hers:  
Talk to her, she shall answer you;  
Marry, when you come to grasp all this,  
It is but air. (As out of his Study.  Sam. 
It was unlucky,—  
Gentlemen, the day appears,  
This is no place to stay in;  
Let's to some neighbouring Cottage,  
May be the Searchers will neglect  
The nearer places,  
And this will but advance unto our safety.  Enter Fiddlers. Na. 
Who are there?  Fid. 1. 
Now if the spirit of melancholy should possess them▪  F. 2. 
Why if it should,  
An honourable retreat.  N. 
I have the rarest fancy in my head,—  
Whether are you bound my friends so early?  Fid. 
To a Wedding Sir.  N. 
A Wedding?  
I told you so.  
Whose?  Fid. 
A Country wenches here hard by,  
One Erblins daughter.  N. 
Good: Erblin: the very place.  
To see how things fall out.  
Hold, here's money for you.  
Hark you, you must assist me in a small design.  Fid. 
Any thing.  Sam. 
What dost mean?  N. 
Let me alone,  
I have a plot upon a wench.—  Fid. 
Your Worship is merry.  Na. 
Yes faith, to see her only.  
Look you, some of you shall go back to ' th' Town,  
And leave us your Coats,  
My friend and I am excellent at a little Instrument,  
And then we'll sing catches.  P. 
I understand thee not;  
Thou hast no more forecast than a Squirrel,  
And hast less wise consideration about thee.  
Is there a way safer than this!  
Dost think what we have done  
Will not be spread beyond this place with every light.  
Should we now enter any house  
Thus near the Town, and stay all day,  
'twould be suspicious: What pretence have we?  P. 
He speaks reason Samorat.  Sa. 
I do not like it.  
Should any thing fall out 'twould not look well,  
I'd not be found so much out of myself,  
So far from home as this disguise would make me,  
Almost for certainty of safety.  N. 
Certainty? Why, this will give it us,  
Pray let me govern once.  Sa. 
Well, you suffered first with me,  
Now 'tis my turn.  P. 
Prithee name not suffering,  N. 
Come, come, your Coats,  
Our Beards will suit rarely to them:  
There's more money,  
Not a word of any thing as you tender—  Fid. 
O Sir.  N. 
And see you carry't gravely too.—  
Now afore me Pellagrins rarely translated.  
'Sfoot they'll apprehend the head of the Base Viol  
As soon as thee;  
Thou art so likely,  
Only I must confess, that has a little the better face,  P. 
Has it so?—  
Pox on thee, thou look'st like I cannot tell what.  N. 
Why, so I would fool,  
Th' end of my disguise is to have none  
Know what I am:  
Look, look, a Devil airing himself. (Enter a Devil.  
I'll catch him like a Mole ere he can get under ground.  P. 
Nashorat, Nashorat.—  N. 
Pox on that noise, he's earthed.  
Prithee let's watch him and see  
Whether he'll heave again.  P. 
Art mad?—  N. 
By this light, three or four of their skins  
And we'd rob.  
‛ I would be the better way.—  
Come, come, let's go— Exeunt.  Enter Captain and Soldiers. Cap. 
Let the Horse skirt about this place,  
We▪ le make a search within— Ex.  Enter again. 

Now disperse  
I'th' hollow of the wood,  
we'll meet again.   Enter Na. Pe. Sa. Fid. Sol. 
Who goes there?  
Speak,— Oh! theyare Fiddlers.—  
Saw you no Men nor Horse  
I'th' wood to day,— as you came along.  (Nashorat pulls one of the Fiddlers by the skirt) Na. 
Speak, speak Rogue.  Fid. 
None Sir,—  Sol. 
Pass on.— Ex.  N. 
Gentlemen what say you to th'invention now,  
I'm a Rogue if I do not think  
I was designed for the Helm of State,  
I am so full of nimble Stratagems:  
That I should have ordered affairs, and  
Carried it against the stream of a Faction,  
With as much ease as a Skippar,  
Would laver against the wind.— Ex.  Enter Captain and Soldiers meet again. Cap. 
What, no news of any?  Sol. 
No,— not a man stirring.  Enter other Soldiers. 
Sa how, away,— away.—  Cap. 
What, any discovery?  1. Sol. 
Yes, the Horse has stayed three fellows,  
Fiddlers they call themselves;  
There's something in't; they look suspiciously;  
One of them has offered at confession once or twice,  
Like a weak stomach at vomiting,  
But 'twould not out.—  Ca 
A little cold Iron thrust down his throat  
Will fetch it up.—  
I am excellent at discovery,  
And can draw a secret out of a Knave,  
With as much dexterity as a Barber-Surgeon  
Wooed a hollow tooth.  
Let's join forces with them.— Exeunt.  Enter Orsabrin. Or. 
Sure 'tis eternal night with me;  
Would this were all too—  
For I begin to think the rest is true,  
Which I have read in books,  
And that there's more to follow.—  Enter Reginella. Re. 
Sure this is he.— (She unbinds him.  Or. 
The pure and first created Light  
Broke through the Chaos thus.—  
Keep off, keep off thou brighter Excellence,  
Thou fair Divinity: If thou comest near,  
(So tempting is the shape thou now assum'st)  
I shall grow saucy in desire again,  
And entertain bold hopes which will but draw  
More, and fresh punishment upon me.—  Re. 
I see ye are angry Sir:  
But if you kill me too, I meant no ill:  
That which brought me hither,  
Was a desire I have to be with you,  
Rather than those I live with: This is all  
Believe't.—  Or. 
With me? Oh thou kind Innocence!  
Witness all that can punish falsehood,  
That I could live with thee,  
Even in this dark and narrow prison:  
And think all happiness confined within the walls—  
Oh, hadst thou but as much of Love as I.  Re. 
Of Love? What's that?  Or. 
Why 'tis a thing that's had before 'tis known:  
A gentle flame that steals into a heart,  
And makes it like one object so, that it scarce cares  
For any other delights, when that is present:  
And is in pain when 't' gone; thinks of that alone,  
And quarrels with all other thoughts that would  
Intrude and so divert it.—  Re. 
If this be Love, sure I have some of it,  
It is no ill thing, is it Sir?  Or. 
Oh most Divine,  
The best of all the gods strangely abound in't,  
And Mortals could not live without it:  
It is the soul of virtue, and the life of life.  Re. 
Sure I should learn it Sir, if you would teach it.  Or. 
Alas, thou taught'st it me;  
It came with looking thus.— (They gaze upon one another.  Enter Per. Per. 
I will no longer be concealed,  
But tell her what I am,  
Before this smooth faced youth  
Hath taken all the room  
Up in her heart,  
Ha! unbound! and sure by her!  
Hell and Furies.  P. 
What ho— within there— Enter other Thiefs.  
Practise escapes?  
Get me new irons to load him unto death.  Or. 
I am so used to this,  
It takes away the sense of it:  
I cannot think it strange.  Re. 
Alas, he never did intend to go.  
Use him for my sake kindly:  
I was not wont to be denied.  
Ah me! they are hard hearted all.  
What shall I do? I'll to my Governor,  
he'll not be thus cruel.— Exeunt.  Enter Samorat, Nashorat, Pelegrin. Nas. 
'Tis a rare wench, she i'th' blue stockings:  
What a complexion she had when she was warm—  
'Tis a hard question of these Country wenches,  
Which are simpler, their beauties or themselves.  
There's as much difference betwixt  
A Towne-Lady, and one of these,  
As there is betwixt a wild Pheasant and a tame.  Pell. 
Right:—  
There goes such essensing, washing, perfuming,  
daubing, to th' other that they are the least part▪  
Of themselves.  
Indeed there 's so much sauce, a man cannot taste the meat.  N. 
Let me kiss thee for that;  
By this light I hate a woman dressed up to her height,  
Worse than I do Sugar with Muskadine:  
It leaves no room for me to imagine:  
I could improve her if she were mine:  
It looks like a Jade with his tail tied up with ribbons,  
Going to a fair to be told.  Pell. 
No, no, thou hatest it out of another reason, Nashorat.  Nas. 
Prithee, what's that?  Pell. 
Why theyare so sine, theyare of no use that day.  Na. 
Pellegrin is in good feeling.  
Sirrah, didst mark the Lass i'th' green upon yellow,  
How she bridled in her head,  
And danced a stroke in, and a stroke out,  
Like a young Fillet training to a pace.  Pel. 
And how she kissed,  
As if she had been sealing and delivering herself up  
To the use of him that came last,  
Parted with her sweetheart's lips still  
As unwillingly, and untowardly,  
As soft Wax from a dry Seal.  N. 
True; and when she kisses a Gentleman,  
She makes a Curtsy, as who should say,  
The favour was on his side.  
What dull fools are we to besiege a face  
Three months for that trifle.  
Sometimes it holds out longer,—  
And then this is the sweeter flesh too,—  Enter Fiddlers. Fid. 
You shall have horses ready at the time,  
And good ones too (if there be truth in drink)  
And for your letters, they are there by this.—  Sa. 
An excellent Officer.—  Enter Wedding. Clown. 
Tut, tut, tut,  
That's a good one i'faith, not dance?  
Come, come, strike up. (Enter soldiers muffled up in their cloaks.  Sa. 
Who are those that eye us so severely?  
Belong they to the wedding?  Fid. 
I know 'em not.  Clo. 
Gentlemen, wilt please you dance.— (Offer their women.  Sol. 
No, keep your women, we'll take out others here.  
Samorat, if I mistake not.  Sa. 
Ha! betrayed?— (A bustle.  Clo. 
How now! what's the matter? abuse our Fiddlers?  2 Sol. 
These are no Fiddlers, fools▪ obey the Prince's officers,  
Unless you desire to go to prison too.  Sa. 
The thought of what must follow disquiets not at all:  
But tamely thus to be surprised  
In so unhandsome a disguise?— (They carry him away.  Pel. 
ist e'en so? Why then,  
Farewell the plumed Troops, and the big Wars,  
Which made ambition virtue.—  Nas. 
ay, I, Let them go, let them go.  Pel. 
Have you ever a stratagem Nasharot?  
'Twood be very seasonable. What think you now?  
Are you designed for the helm of State?  
Can you laver against this Tempest?  Na. 
Prithee let me alone, I am thinking for life.  Pe. 
Yes, 'tis for life indeed, would 'twere not.  Cl. 
This is very strange; Let's follow after,  
And see if we can understand it.— Exeunt.  Enter Peridor, Orsabrin. Per. 
A mere Phantasm  
Raised by Art to try thee.  Or. 
Good kind Devil,  
Try me once more.  
Help me to the sight of this Phantasm again.  Per. 
Thou art undone,  
Were't thou not amorous  
In th' other world?  
Didst not love women?  Or. 
Who did hate them?  Per. 
Why there's it;  
Thou thought'st there was no danger in the sin,  
Because 'twas common.  
Above the half of that vast multitude  
Which fills this place, Women sent hither:  
And they are highliest punished still,  
That love the handsomest.  Or. 
A very lying Devil this  
Certainly.—  P. 
All that had their women with you,  
Suffer with us.  Or. 
By your friendship's favour though,  
There's no justice in that:  
Some of them suffered enough  
In all conscience by 'em there.—  P. 
Oh, this is now your mirth:  
But when you shall be pinched  
Into a jelly,  
Or made into a cramp all over,  
These will be sad truths.  Or. 
He talks oddly now, I do not like it.  
Dost hear?—  
Prithee exchange some of thy good counsel  
For deeds.  
If thou be'st an honest Devil,  
(As thou seem'st to be)  
Put a sword into my hand,  
And help me to the sight of this  
Apparition again.—  P. 
Well, some thing I'll do for thee,  
Or rather for myself.— Exeunt.  Enter two other Devils. 1. D. 
Come, let's go relieve our Poet.  2. D. 
How, relieve him? he's released; is he not?  1. D. 
No, no;  
Bersat bethought himself at the mouth of the Cave,  
And found he would be necessary to our Masque too night.  
We have set him with his feet in a great tub of water,  
In which he dabbles and believes it to be Helicon:  
There he's contriving i'th' honour of Mercury,  
Who I have told him comes this night of a message  
From Jupiter to Pluto, and is feasted here by him.  Th. 
Oh, they have fetched him off.  Enter Poet and Thiefs. Po. 
Carer per so lo carer,  
Or he that made the fairy Queen.  1 Th. 
No, none of these:  
They are by themselves in some other place;  
But here's he that writ Tamerlane.  P. 
I beseech you bring me to him,  
There's something in his Scene  
Betwixt the Empresses a little high and cloudy,  
I would resolve myself.  1 Th. 
You shall Sir.  
Let me see— the Author of the bold Beauchams,  
And England's Joy.  Po. 
The last was a well writ piece, I assure you,  
A Britain I take it; and Shakespeare's very way:  
I desire to see the man,  1 Th. 
Excuse me, no seeing here.  
The gods in compliment to Homer,  
Do make all Poets poor above,  
And we all blind below.  
But you shall confess Sir.  
Follow.— Ex.  Enter Peridor, Orsabrin. Or. 
Hallight and fresh air again? (Peridor unbinds him and slips away.  
The place I know too.—  
The very same I fought the Duel in.  
The Devil was in the right;  
This was a mere Aparition:  
But 'twas a handsome one, it left impressions here,  
Such as the fairest substance I shall ere behold,  
Will scarce deface.  
Well I must resolve, but what, or where?  
ay, that's the question.  
The town's unsafe, there's no returning thither,  
And then the Port.— (Enter some to pass over.  
Ha! What means the busy haste of these.—  
Honest friend.— No— (Passes hastily.  
Dost hear,— (To another.  
What's the matter pray?  Clo. 
Gentlemen, gentlemen,  
That's good satisfaction indeed.  Ors. 
Prithee good fellow tell me. (Enter another.  
What causes all this hurry?— (To another.  Clo. 
One Samorat is led to prison Sir,  
And other Gentlemen about Lord Torcular.  
Ha! Samorat!  
There is no mean nor end of fortune's malice:  
Oh! 'tis insufferable;  
I'm made a boy whipped on another's back:  
Cruel, I'll not endure't by heaven,  
He shall not die for me:  
I will not hold a wretched life upon such wretched terms.  (Ex. Enter Tamoren Peridor, and others. Tam. 
Fly; fly abroad, search every place, and  
Bring him back:  
Thou hast undone us all with thy neglect,  
Destroyed the hopes we had to be ourselves again;  
I shall run mad with Anger;  
Fly, be gone.— Exeunt all but Tam.  Enter Reginella. 
My Reginella, what brings you abroad?  Re. 
Dear Governor? I have a suit to you.  Ta. 
To me my pretty sweetness, what?  Re. 
You will deny me Sir I fear,  
Pray let me have the stranger that came last in keeping.  Ta. 
Stranger? Alas he's gone, made an escape.  Re. 
I feared he would not stay they used him so unkindly.  
Indeed I would have used him better, (weeps.  
And then he had been here still.  Tam. 
Come▪ do not weep my girl:  
Forget him pretty pensiveness, there will  
Come others every day as good as he.  Re. 
Oh! never: I'll close my ey'sto all now he's gone.  Tam. 
How catching are the sparks of love? Still this  
Mischance shows more and more unfortunate.  
I was too curious.—  
Come indeed, you must forget him,  
The gallantest and the godli'st to the eye are not the best,  
Such handsome and fine shapes as those  
Are ever false and foul within.  Re. 
Why Governor d' then put  
Your finest things still in your finest Cabinets?  Tam. 
Pretty Innocence: no, I do not;  
You see I place not you there,  
Come no more tears:  
Le's in and have a Mate at Chess,  
" Diversion cures a loss, or makes itself.— Extunt.   

ACT V.  Enter Tamaren, Peridor, and others. Pe. 
Crossed all the Highways, searched the Woods,  
Beat up and down with as much pain & diligence,  
As ever Huntsman did for a lost Deer.  Ta. 
A race of Cripples, are ye all  
Issue of Snails, he could not else have 'scaped us.  
Now? what news bring you?  Th. 
Sir, we have found him out,  
The party is in prison.  Ta. 
How? in prison?  Th. 
For certain Sir.  
It seems young Samorat and he  
Were those that fought the duel t'other day,  
And left our Torcular so wounded there.  
For his supposed death was Samorat taken,  
Which when this youth had found,  
He did attempt to free him (scaling the wall  
By night) but finding it impossible,  
Next Morning did present himself  
Into the hands of Justice, imagining  
His death that did the fact, an equal sacrifice.  Ta. 
Brave Orsabrin.  Th. 
Not knowing that the greedy Law asks more,  
And doth prescribe the accessary  
As well as principal.  Ta. 
Just so i'th' nick? i'th' very nick of time?  Per. 
he's troubled.  Ta. 
It will be excellent.  
Be all in soldiers strait,  
Where's Torcular?  Th. 
Forth coming Sir.  Ta. 
How are his wounds?  
Will they endure the Air?  
Under your gaberdines wear Pistols all.]  Per. 
What does he mean?  Ta. 
Give me my other habit and my sword  
' i'th' least suspected way hast after me.  Th. 
All?  Tam. 
All but Peridor; I will abroad,  
My broken hopes and sufferings  
Shall have now some cure.  
Fortune spite of herself shall be my friend,  
And either shall redress, or give them end.— Ex.  P. 
I've found it out,  
He does intend to fetch this stranger back,  
And give him Reginella,  
Or else— No, no, it must be that  
His anger, and the search declare it;  
The secret of the prisonhouse shall out I swear.  
I'll set all first on fire,  
For middle ways to such an end are dull.— Ex.  Enter Prince, Phi. S. 
Since she was refused to speak with you Sir,  
Nor look of any,  
Languishes so fast,  
Her servants fear she will not live  
To know what does become of him.  Phi. 
Sir 'tis high time you visit her.  Pri. 
I cannot look upon her, and deny her.  Phi. 
Nor need you Sir,  
All shall appear to her most gracious:  
Tell her the former part o'th' Law  
Must pass, but when it comes t'execute,  
Promise her that you intent to interpose.  Pr. 
And shall then Samorat live?  Ph. 
Oh!—  
Nothing less! The censure past,  
His death shall follow without noise:  
'Tis but not owning of the fact,  
Disgracing for a time a Secretary,  
Or so— the thing's not new—  
Put on forgiving looks Sir,  
We are there—  Enter Sabrina's Chamber. 
A mourning silence  
Sister Sabrina—  Sab. 
Hence, hence,  
Thou cruel hunter after life:  
Thou art a pain unto my eyes as great,  
As my dear Mother had when she did  
Bring thee forth— And sure that was  
Extreme, since she produced a monster.  Ph. 
Speak to her yourself,  
she's so incensed against me,  
She will not welcome happiness,  
Because I bring it.  Pr. 
Fair ornament of grief,  
Why are you troubled—  
Can you believe there's any thing within  
My power which you shall mourn for?  
If you have any fears, impart them;  
Any desires, give them a name,  
And I will give thee rest:  
You wrong the greatness of my love,  
To doubt the goodness of it.  Sab. 
Alas, I do not doubt your love my Lord,  
I fear it; 'tis that which does undo me.  
For 'tis not Samorat that's prisoner now,  
It is the Prince's Rival;  
Oh! for your own sake Sir be merciful:  
How poorly will this sound hereafter,  
The Prince did fear fewer merit so,  
Found so much virtue in his rival, that  
He was forced to murder it, make it away.  
There can be no addition to you Sir by his death,  
By his life there will; You get the point  
Of honour, fortune does offer here  
What time perchance cannot again:  
A handsome opportunity to show  
The bravery of your mind—  Pri. 
This pretty Rhetoric cannot persuade me (fair.  
To let your Samorat live for my sake:  
It is enough he shall for yours.  Sab. 
Though virtue still rewards itself, yet here  
May it not stay for that; but may the gods  
Shower on you suddenly such happiness,  
That you may say, my mercy brought me this—  P. 
The gods no doubt will hear when you do pray  
Right ways: But here you take their names in vain,  
Since you can give yourself that happiness  
Which you do ask of them.  Sab. 
Most gracious Sir, do not—  Pr. 
Hold, I dare not hear thee speak,  
For fear thou now shouldst tell me,  
What I do tell myself;  
That I would poorly bargain for any favours;  
Retire and banish all thy fears,  
I will be kind and just to thee Sabrina,  
What s'ere thou provest to me.  Ph. 
Rarely acted Sir,— Ex Sabr.  Pr. 
Ha!—  Ph. 
Good faith to th' very life.  Pr. 
Acted?— No,— 'twas not acted.  Ph. 
How Sir?  Pr. 
I was in earnest.  
I mean to conquer her this way,  
The others low and poor.  Ph. 
Ha?—  Pr. 
I told thee 'twould be so before.  Ph. 
Why Sir, you do not mean to save him?—  Pr. 
Yes— I do—  
Samorat shall be released immediately.—  Ph. 
Sure you forget I had a brother Sir,  
And one that did deserve Justice at least.  Pr. 
He did—  
And he shall have it:  
He that killed him shall die—  
And 'tis high satisfaction, that,  
Look not—  
It must be so— Exeunt.  Enter Stramador, and Peridor. P. 
No Devils Stramador,  
Believe your eyes— To which I  
Cannot be so lost▪ but  
You may call to mind  
One Peridor.  Str. 
Ha? Peridor? thou didst  
Command that day  
In which the Tamorens fell.  P. 
I did—  
Yet Tamoren lives.  Str. 
Ha?  P. 
Not Tamoren the Prince, he fell indeed;  
But Tamoren his brother, who that day  
Led our horse:  
Young Reginella too,  
Which is the subject of the suit,—  
You have engaged yourself by oath,  
The King shall grant.  Str. 
Oh! 'tis impossible,  
Instruct me how I should believe thee.  Pe. 
Why thus—  
Necessity upon that great defeat  
Forced us to keep the Woods, and hide ourselves  
In holes which since we much enlarged,  
And fortified them in the entrance so,  
That 'twas a safe retreat upon pursuit:  
Then swore we all allegiance to this Tamoren.  
These habits better to disguise ourselves, we took at first;  
But finding with what ease we robbed,  
We did continue 'em, and took an Oath,  
Till some new troubles in the State should happen,  
Or fair occasion to make known ourselves  
Offer itself, we would appear no other:  
But come, let's not lose  
What we shall ne'er recover,  
This opportunity—  Enter Nashorat, and Pe. Pe. 
Nashorat, you have not thought of any  
Stratagem yet—  N. 
Yes I have thought—  Pe. 
What?—  N. 
That if you have any accounts with heaven,  
They may go on—  
This villainous dying, like a strange tune,  
Has run so in my head,  
No wholesome consideration would enter it.  
Nothing angers me neither, but that  
I pass by my Mistress' window to't.  Pe. 
Troth, that's unkind,  
I have something troubles me too.  N. 
What's that.  Pe. 
The people will say as we go along,  
Thou art the properer fellow.  
Then I break an appointment  
With a Merchant's Wife,  
But who can help it?— (Nashorat.  N. 
Yea who can help it indeed,  
She's to blame though i'faith, if she  
Does not bear with thee,  
Considering the occasion—  P. 
Considering the occasion as you say,  
A man would think he might be borne with.  
There's a Scrivener I should have paid  
Some money to, upon my word,  
But—  Enter Orsabrin, Samorat, Princes servants. Or. 
By fair Sabrina's name,  
I conjure you not to refuse the mercy  
Of the Prince—  Sam. 
It is resolved Sir, you know my answer.  Or. 
Whether am I fall'n?  
I think if I should live a little longer,  
I should be made the cause of all the mischief  
Which should arise to the world—  
Hither I came to save a friend,  
And by a slight of fortune I destroy him:  
My very ways to good prove ills.  
Sure I can look a man into misfortune:  
The Plague's so great within me 'tis infectious.  
Oh! I am weary of myself:  
Sir I beseech you yet accept of it,  
For I shall be his way  
A sufferer,  
And an executioner too—  Sam. 
●I beg of thee no more,  
Thou dost beget in me desire to live:  
For when I find how much I am  
Behind in noble acts of friendship,  
I cannot choose but wish for longer time, that I might  
Struggle with thee, for what thou hast too clearly now  
Got from me: The point of honour—  
Oh! it is wisdom and great thrift to die;  
For who with such a debt of friendship and  
Of Love, as you and my Sabrina must expect from me  
Could ere subsist.  N. 
They are complementing;  
'Sfoot they make no more of it,  
Then if 'twere who should go in first at  
A door— I think Pellegrine, as you and I  
Have cast it up, it comes to something  
More—  Mess. 
Gentlemen, prepare, the Court is setting.  Sam. 
Friends, this is no time for ceremony;  
But what a rack have I within me,  
To see you suffer.  
And yet I hope the Prince will let this anger die  
In me, not to take the forfeiture of you.  N. 
If he should, Pellegrin and I are resolved,  
And are ready, all but our speeches to the people,  
And those will not trouble us much,  
For we intent not to trouble them. (Exeunt.  Enter Prince, Peridor, and others. Pr. 
Not accept it?  
Lose this way too?— What shall I do?  
He makes advantages of mine,  
And like a skilful Tennis-player,  
Returns my very best with excellent design.  
It must not be,  
Bring to the Closet here above, the chief o'th' Jury:  
I'll try another way.— Ex.  Enter Judges, Prisoners, Lawyers. N. 
Of all ways of destroying mankind,  
These Judges have the easiest,  
They sleep and do it.  Pe. 
To my thinking now,  
This is but a solemner kind of Puppet-play:  
How the Devil came we to be actors in't?  
So; it begins.  1 Judg. 
The Prince's Council:  
Are they ready?  Lawy. 
Here—  Judg. 
Begin then—  Law. 
My Lords, that this so great and strange.  Sa. 
Most reverend Judges,  
To save th' expense of breath and time,  
And dull Formalities of Law—  
I here pronounce myself guilty.  Pri. 
from above. Again he has prevented me—  Sa. 
So guilty that no other can pretend  
A share—  
This noble youth, a stranger to every thing  
But Gallantry, ignorant in our Laws and Customs,  
Has made perchance  
(In strange severity) a forfeit of himself;  
But should you take it,  
The gods when he is gone will sure revenge it.  
If from the stalk you pull this bud of virtue,  
Before 't has spread and shown itself abroad,  
You do an injury to all mankind;  
And public mischief cannot be private Justice.  
This man's as much above a common man,  
As man's above a beast; And if the Law  
Destroys not man for killing of a beast,  
It should not here, for killing of a man.  
Oh what mistake 'twould be?  
For here you sit to weed the Cankers out  
That would do hurt ' i'th' State, to punish vice;  
And under that y'oud root out virtue too—  Or. 
If I do blush, 'tis not (most gracious Judges)  
For any thing which I have done, 'tis for that  
This much mistaken youth hath here delivered.  
'Tis true (and I confess) I ever had  
A little stock of honour (which I still preserved)  
But that (by leaving me behind alive)  
He now most cunningly does think to get from me:  
And I beseech your Lordships to assist me;  
For 'tis most fraudulent all he desires.  
Your Laws I hope are reasonable,  
Else why should reasonable men  
Be subject to them; and then  
Upon what grounds is he made guilty now?  
How can he be thought accessary  
To th' kill of a man,  
That did not know o'th' fight with him?  
Witness all those powers which search men's hearts,  
That I myself, (until he beckoned me)  
Knew nothing of it, if such a thing  
As sacrifice must be— why? Man for man's enough:  
Though elder times t'appease diviner Justice,  
Did offer up—  
(Whither through gallantry, or ignorance)  
Vast multitudes of Beasts in sacrifice,  
Yet numbers of men is seldom heard of:  
One single Curtius purged a whole State's sin:  
You will not say th' offence is now as great,  
Or that you ought to be more highly satisfied  
Then Heaven—  P. 
Brave youths—  N. 
Pellegrin, you and I will let our speeches alone.  1 Judg. 
If that the Law were of so fine a web,  
As wit and fancy spin it out to, here,  
Then these defences would be just, and save:  
But that is more substantial,  
Of another make—  
And Gentlemen, if this be all,  
Sentence must pass—  Enter Tamoren. Tam. 
Orsabrin!  Or. 
Ha! who names me there?  Ta. 
A friend: hear me:  
I am an Officer in that dark world  
From whence thou cam'st, sent  
Thus disguised by Reginella our fair Queen,  
And to redeem thee.  Or. 
Reginella!  
I'th' midst of all these ills,  
How preciously that name does sound?  Ta. 
If thou wilt swear to follow me,  
At th' instant th' art released;  
I'll save thee and thy friends,  
In spite of Law.—  Or. 
Doubt not of that;  
Bring me where Reginella is:  
And if I follow not, perpetual misery follow me:  
It cannot be a Hell  
Where she appears—  Tam. 
Be confident.— (Goes out and brings Torcular.  
Behold (grave Lords) the man  
Whose death questioned the life of these,  
Found and recovered by the Thiefs  
▪ i'th' Woods;  
And rescued since by us, to rescue Innocence.  Or. 
Rare Devil,  
With what dexterity h'as raised this  
Shape up; to delude them—  Pr. 
Ha? Torcular alive?  Ph. 
Torcular?  
I should as soon believe my brother  
near in being too.  Tor 
You cannot wonder more to find me here,  
Then I do to find myself.  Na. 
Come unbind, unbind, this matter's answered.  Judg. 2. 
Hold: they are not free, the Law exacts  
The same for breach of prison that it did before.  Or. 
There is no scaping out of fortunes hands.  
Dost hear; haste never a trick for this?—  Ta. 
Doubt me not, I have without, at my command,  
Those which never failed me;  
And it shall cost many a life yet  
Sir, ere yours be lost—  Pr. 
Stramador you have been a stranger here of late.  Str. 
Peruse this paper Sir, you'll find there was good reason for't.  Enter Prince Philatell from above. 
Sramador, Peridor, Reginella meet them below.  Pr. 
How! old Tamorens brother, Captain  
Of the Thiefs, that has infested thus  
Our Country?  
Reginella too, the heir of that feared Family!  
A happy and a strange discovery.  Ta. 
Peridor, and Reginella, the villain  
Has betrayed me.  Re. 
'Tis Orsabrin, they have kept their words.  Or. 
Reginella? she was a woman then.  
O let me go.  Jay. 
You do forget sure what you are.  Or. 
I do indeed: oh, to unriddle now!  Stra. 
And to this man you owe it Sir,  
You find an engagement to him there;  
And I must hope you'll make me just to him.  Pr. 
He does deserve it,  
Seize on him—  Tam. 
Nay then all truths must out.  
That I am lost and forfeit to the Law,  
I do confess,  
Yet since to save this Prince.  P. 
Prince!  Or. 
(Our Mephistopheles is mad.)  Ta. 
Yet, Prince, this is the Orsabrin.  Or. 
Ha!—  Tam. 
So long ago,  
Supposed lost,  
Your Brother Sir:  
Fetch in there Ardelan and Piramont.  Enter Ardelan and Piramont. N. 
What mad Planet rules this day  
Ardelan, and Piramont.  Or. 
The devil's wanton,  
And abuses all mankind to day.  Ta. 
These faces are well known to all Francelians,  
Now let them tell the rest—  Pi. 
My noble Master living! found in Francelia?  Ar. 
The gods have satisfied our tedious hopes.  Ph. 
Some Imposture.  Or. 
A new design of fortune—  
I dare not trust it.  Ta. 
Why speak you not?  Piram. 
I am so full of joy, it will not out.  
Know ye Francelians,  
When Sanborne fatal field was fought,  
So desperate were the hopes of Orsabrin,  
That 'twas thought fit to send away this Prince,  
And give him safety in another clime;  
That spite of an ill day, an Orsabrin might be  
Preserved alive.  
Thus you all know,  
To Garradans' chief charge he was committed:  
Who when our Bark by Pirates was surprised,  
(For so it was) was slain i'th' first encounter;  
Since that we have been forced to wait  
On Fortune's pleasure.  
And Sir, that all this time we kept  
You from the knowledge of yourself,  
Your pardon; It was our zeal that erred,  
Which did conclude it would be prejudicial.  Ar. 
My Lords you look as if you doubted still:  
If Piramont and I be lost unto your memory,  
Your hands I hope are not—  
Here's our Commission:  
There's the Diamond Elephant,  
That which our Prince's Sons are ever known by:  
Which we to keep him undiscovered,  
Tore from his ribbon in that fatal day  
When we were made prisoners:  
And here are those that took us,  
Which can witness all circumstance,  
Both how, and when, time and place;  
With whom we ever since have lived by force:  
For on no Kingdom, friend unto Francelia,  
Did Fortune ever land us, since that hour;  
Nor gave us means to let our Country know  
He lived—  T. 
These very truths, when they could have no ends,  
(For they believed him lost)  
I did receive from them before,  
Which gave me now the boldness to appear  
Here, where I'm lost by Law.  Shouts without, 
Long live Prince Osabrin.  
Long live Prince Orsabrin,  Na. 
Pellegrin let's second this:  
Right or wrong 'tis best for us.  Pe. 
Observe, observe.  Pr. 
What shouts are those?  Str. 
Soldiers of Tamorens the first;  
The second was the people's, who  
Much press to see their long lost Prince.  Phi. 
Sir, 'tis most evident, and all agrees,  
This was his coloured hair,  
His Air, though altered much with time:  
You wear too strange a face upon this news;  
Sir, you have found a brother  
I, Torcular, the Kingdom's happiness;  
For here the plague of Robberies will end.  
It is a glorious day—  Pr. 
It is indeed, I am amazed, not sad;  
Wonder does keep the passage so,  
Nothing will out.  
Brother (for so my kinder Stars will have it)  
I here receive you as the bounty of the gods;  
A blessing I did not expect,  
And in return to them, this day,  
Francelia ever shall keep holy.  Or. 
Fortune by much abusing me, has  
So— dulled my faith, I cannot  
Credit any thing.  
I know not how to own such happiness.  P. 
Let not your doubts lessen your joys:  
If you have had disasters heretofore,  
They were but given to heighten what's to come.  Na. 
Here's as strange a turn as if 'twere the  
fifth Act in a Play.—  Peli. 
I'm sure 'tis a good turn for us.  Or. 
Sir, why stands that Lady so neglected there,  
That does deserve to be the business of mankind.  
Oh ye gods: since you'll be kind  
And bountiful, let it be here.  
As fearfully, as jealous husbands ask  
After some secrets which they dare not know;  
Or as forbidden Lovers meet i'th' night,  
Come I to thee (and 'tis no ill sign this,  
Since flames when they burn highest tremble most)  
Oh, should she now deny me!  Re. 
I know not perfectly what all this means;  
But I do find some happiness is near,  
And I am pleased, because I see you are—  Or. 
She understands me not—  Pr. 
He seems t'have passion for her.  Ta. 
Sir, in my dark commands these flames broke out  
Equally, violent at first sight;  
And 'twas the hope I had to reconcile myself.  Or. 
It is a holy Magic that will make▪  
Of you and I but one.—  Re. 
Any thing that you would ask me, sure I might grant.  Or. 
Hark Gentlemen, she does consent,  
What wants there else?  Pe. 
My hopes grow cold, I have undone myself.  Pr. 
Nothing, we all will join in this;  
The long lived feued between the Families  
Here dies, this day the Hyminaeall  
Torches shall burn bright;  
So bright, that they shall dim the light  
Of all that went before—  
See Sabrina too.— (Enter Sabrina.  Ta. 
Sir, I must have much of pardon,  
Not for myself alone, but for all mine—  Pr. 
Rise, hadst thou not deserved what now thou su'st for,  
This day should know no clouds.  Peridor kneels to Tamoren. Tam. 
Taught by the Prince's mercy; I forgive too.  Sab. 
Frighted hither Sir.  
They told me you wooed not accept the Prince's mercy.  Sam. 
Art thou no further yet in thy intelligence?  
See, thy brother lives—  Sab. 
My brother?—  Tor. 
And 'tis the least of wonders has fall'n out.  Or. 
Yes, such a one as you are, fair, (Reginella looks at Sabrina  
And you shall be acquainted.  Sam. 
Oh could your hate my Lords, now,  
Or your love die.  Phy. 
Thy merit has prevailed  
With me.  Tor. 
And me.  Pr. 
And has almost with me.  
Samorat thou dost not doubt thy Mistress Constantia.  Sam. 
No Sir.  Pr. 
Then I will beg of her,  
That till the Sun returns to visit us,  
She will not give away herself for ever.  
Although my hopes are faint,  
Yet I would have 'em hopes,  
And in such jolly hours as now attend us.  
I would not be a desperate thing,  
One made up wholly of despair.  Sab. 
You that so freely gave me Samorats' life,  
Which was in danger,  
Most justly, justly, may be suffered to attempt  
Upon my love, which is in none.  Pr. 
What says my noble Rival?  Sab. 
Sir, ye are kind in this, and wisely do  
Provide I should not surfeit:  
For here is happiness enough besides to last the Sun's return.  N. 
You and I are but savours with all this Pellegrin.  
But by the Lord 'tis well we came off  
As we did, all was at stake—  Pr. 
Come, no more whispers here,  
Let's in, and there unriddle to each other—  
For I have much to ask.  Or. 
A Life! a Friend! a Brother! and a Mistress!  
Oh! what a day was here:  
Gently my Joys distil,  
Lest you should break the Vessel you should fill.  
FINIS.    

EPILOGUE.  

ANd how, and how, in faith,— a pretty plot;  
And smartly carried through too, was it not?  
And the Devils, how, well? and the fight,  
Well too;— a fool, an't had been just old writing.  
O what a monster wit must that man have,  
That could please all which now their twelve pence gave:  
High characters (cries one) and he would see  
Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor ne'er will be.  
Romances cries easie-soules, and then they swear,  
The Playe's well writ, though scarce a good line's there.  
The Women— Oh if Stephen should be killed,  
Or miss the Lady, how the plot is spilled?  
And into how many pieces a poor Play  
Is taken still before the second day?  
Like a strange Beauty newly come to Court;  
And to say truth, good faith 'tis all the sport:  
One will like all the ill things in a Play,  
Another, some o' th' good, but the wrong way;  
So from one poor Play there comes t' arise  
At several Tables, several Comedies.  
The ill is only here, that 't may fall out  
In Plays as Faces; and who goes about  
To take asunder oft destroys (we know)  
What altogether made a pretty show.   
FINIS.   

BRENNORALT. A Tragedy. Presented at the Private House in Blackfriars, by His Majesty's servants.  
WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Sign of the Prince's Arms in St Paul's Churchyard. MDCXLVI.   

The Scene. Poland.  

The Actors.  
SIgismond— King of Poland.  
Miefla. 
 Melidor. 
 A Lord. Councillors to the King.  
Brennoralt— a Discontent.  
Doran— His Friend.  
Villanor. 
 Grainevert. 
 Marinell. Cavaliers and Officers under Brennoralt.  
Stratheman.  
Fresolin, Brother to Francelia.  
Iphigene— young Palatine of Florence.  
Palatine of Mensecke, Governor, one of the chief Rebels.  
Palatine of Tork a Rebel.  
Almerin, a gallant Rebel.  
Morat, his Lieutenant Colonel.  
Francelia, the Governors' daughter.  
Orilla, a waiting woman to Francelia.  
Reguelin, A servant in the Governor's house, but  
Spy to Brennoralt.  
jailor.  
Guard.  
Soldiers.    

Brennoralt.  

ACT I. SCENE I  Enter Brennoralt, Doran. Brennoralt, 

I Say, the Court is but a narrow circuit;  
Though something elevate above the common;  
A kind of Aunt's nest in the great wild field,  
O'er charged with multitudes of quick Inhabitants,  
Who still are miserably busied to get in,  
What the loose foot of prodigality,  
As fast does throw abroad.   Dor. 
Good:  
A most eternal place of low affronts,  
And then as low submissions.  Bren. 
Right.  
High cowards in revenges 'mongst themselves,  
And only valiant when they mischief others.  Dor. 
Stars, that would have no names,  
But for the ills they threaten in conjunction.  Bren. 
A race of shallow, and unskilful Pilots;  
Which do misguide the Ship even in the calm,  
And in great storms serve but as weight to sink it.  
More, prithee more.— (Alarm within.  
'Tis music to my melancholy.  Enter Soldier. Sold. 
My Lord; a cloud of dust and men  
The Sentinels from th' East gate discover;  
And as they guess, the storm bends this way.  Bren. 
Let it be.  Sold. 
My Lord?—  Bren. 
Let it be,  
I will not fight to day:  
Bid Stratheman draw to the trenches.  
On, prithee on.  Dor. 
The King employs a company of formal beards,  
Men, who have no other proofs of their  
Long life, but that they are old.  Bren. 
Right, and if th' are wise,  
'Tis for themselves, not others.— (Alarm.  
As old men ever are.  Enter second Soldier. 2 Sold. 
Colonel, Colonel;  
Th' enemies at hand, kills all the Sentries:  
Young Almerin leads them on again.  Bren. 
Let him lead them off again.  2 Sold. 
Colonel.—  Bren. 
Be gone.  
If th' art afraid, go hide thyself.  2 Sold. 
What a Devil ails he?— (Exit.  Bren. 
This Almerin's the ague of the Camp:  
He shakes it once a day.  Dor. 
he's the ill conscience rather:  
He never lets it rest; would I were at home again.  
'Sfoot we lie here i'th' trenches, as if it were  
For a wind to carry us into th' other  
World: every hour we expect—  
I'll no more on't.  Bre. 
Prithee—  Dor. 
Not I, by heaven.  Bre. 
What man! the worst is but fair death.  Dor. 
And what will that amount to? A fair Epitaph▪  
A fine account.— I'll home I swear.  Enter Stratheman. Stra. 
Arm, arm my Lord,  
And show yourself, all's lost else.  Dor. 
Why so?  Stra. 
The Rebels like an unruly flood,  
Roll o'er the trenches, and throw down  
All before them.  Bre. 
Ha?  Stra. 
We cannot make a stand.  Bre. 
He would outrival me in honour too,  
As well as love; but that he must not do.  
Help me Strathman.— (Puts on Armour.  
The danger now grows worthy of our swords;  
And, oh Doran, I would to heaven there were  
No other storms then the worst tempest here. (Exeunt.  Enter Marinell, throwing down one he carries. Mari. 
There;  
The Sun's the nearest Surgeon I know,  
And the honestest; if thou recoverest, why so:  
If not, the cure's paid, they have mauled us.  Enter Grainevert, with another upon his back. Grain. 
A curse light on this powder;  
It stays valour, ere it 's half way on its journey:  
What a disadvantage fight we upon in this age?  
He that did well heretofore,  
Had the broad fair day to show it in:  
Witnesses enough; we must believe one another—  
'Tis night when we begin:  
Eternal smoke and sulphur.  
Smalke; by this hand I can bear with thee  
No longer; how now? dead as I live;  
Stolen away just as he used to wench.  
Well, go thy ways, for a quiet drinker, and dier,  
I shall never know thy fellow: searches his pockets.  
These trifles too about thee?  
There was never an honester poor wretch  
Borne I think— look i'th' tother pocket too— hum,  Marinell. Mar. 
Who 's that?  Grani. 
'Tis I; how goes matters?  Mar. 
Scurvily enough;  
Yet since our Colonel came, th' ave got no ground  
Of us; A weak Sculler against Wind and Tide,  
Would have done as much, hark:  
This way the torrent bears. Exeunt.  Enter Fresolin, Almerin, Rebels. Fres'. 
The Villains all have left us.  Alm. 
Would they had left their fears  
Behind them. But come, since we must—  Enter Brennoralt, Soldiers. Bren. 
Ho! Stratheman;  
Skirt on the left hand with the horse,  
And get betwixt these and that Body;  
They're new rallied up forrescue. Dor. Th' are ours.  Brennoralt charges through. 
I do not see my game yet.— Exeunt.  A shout within. Enter Brennoralt, Doran, Stratheman, Marinell. Bren. 
What shout is that?  Stra. 
They have taken Almerin, my Lord.  Bren. 
Almerin? the Devil thank▪ 'em for 't:  
When I had hunted hard all day,  
And now at length unherded the proud Deer,  
The Curs have snatched him up, sound a Retreat:  
There's nothing now behind. Who saw Doran?  Str. 
Shall we bring Almerin in?  Bre. 
No; gazing is low Triumph:  
Convey him fairly to the King,  
He fought it fairly—  Dor. 
What youth was that, whom you bestrid my Lord,  
And saved from all our swords to day?  
Was he not of the Enemy?  Bre. 
It may be so—  Str. 
The Governor's Son, Fresolin, his Mistress brother. (In Dorans ear.  Br. 
No matter who. 'Tis pity, the rough hand  
Of war, should early courages destroy,  
Before they bud, and show themselves i'th' heat  
Of Action—  Mar. 
I threw (my Lord) a youth upon a bank;  
Which seeking, after the retreat, I found  
Dead, and a woman, the pretty daughter  
Of the Forester; Lucillia.  Bre. 
See, see Doran; A sad experiment:  
Woman's the cowardly'st and coldest thing  
The world brings forth: Yet Love, as fire works water,  
Makes it boil o'er, and do things contrary  
To'ts proper nature— I should shed a tear,  
Could I tell how— Ah poor Lucilia!  
Thou didst for me what did as ill become thee.  
Pray see her gently buried—  
Boy, send the Surgeon to the Tent; I bleed:  
What lousy Cottages th' have given our souls?  
Each petty storm shakes them into disorder;  
And 't costs more pains to patch them up again,  
Then they are worth by much. I'm weary of  
The Tenement.— Exeunt.  Enter Villanor, Grainevert, Marinell, and Stratheman. Gra. 
Villanor! welcome, welcome, whence camest thou?  Vil. 
Look, I wear the King's high way still on my boots.  Gra. 
A pretty riding phrase, and how? and how?  
Lady's cheap?  Vil. 
Faith, reasonable:  
Those toys were never dear thou knowst;  
A little time and industry they'll cost;  
But in good faith not much: some few there are  
That set themselves at mighty rates—  Gra. 
Which we o'th' wise pass by,  
As things o're-valued in the market.  
Is't not so?  Vil. 
Y'have said Sir, Hark you, your friend the Rivals married.  
Has obtained the long loved Lady, and is such an ass after 't.  Gra. 
Hum.  
'Tis ever so.  
The motions of married people, are as of  
Other naturals; violent Gentlemen to the place,  
And calm in it.  Mar. 
We know this too; and yet we must be fooling.  Gra. 
Faith, women are the baggage of life:  
They are troublesome, and hinder us  
In the great march, and yet we cannot  
Be without 'em.  Mar. 
You speak very well,  
And Soldierlike.  Grain. 
What? thou art a wit too I warrant,  
In our absence?  Vil. 
Hum— no, no, a poor pretender,  
A Candidate or so, 'gainst the next Sessions:  
Wit enough to laugh at you here.  Gra. 
Like enough; valors a crime:  
The wise have still reproached unto the valiant,  
And the fools too.  Vil. 
Raillery part, Grainvert;  
What accommodations shall we find here?  Gra. 
Clean straw (sweetheart) and meat  
When thou canst get it.  Vil. 
Hum? straw?  Gra. 
Yes.  
That's all will be betwixt Incest:  
You, and your mother earth must lie together.  V. 
Prithee let's be serious; will this last?  
How goes affairs?  G. 
Well.  V. 
But well?  G. 
Faith, 'tis now upon the turning of the balance:  
A most equal business, betwixt Rebellion  
And Loyalty.  V. 
What dost mean?  G. 
Why; which shall be the virtue, and which the vice.  V. 
How the Devil can that be?  G. 
Oh: success is a rare paint; hides all the ugliness.  V. 
Prithee, what's the quarrel?  G. 
Nay, for that excuse us;  
Ask the children of peace,  
They have the leisure to study it,  
We know nothing of it; Liberty they say.  V. 
'Sfoot, let the King make an Act,  
That any man may be unmarried again;  
There's liberty for them. A race  
Of half-witted fellows quarrel about freedom?  
And all that while allow the bonds of Matrimony?  G. 
You speak very well Sir.  Enter King, Lords, Brennoralt. M. 
Soft; the King and Council—  G. 
Look, they follow after like tired spannels:  
Quest sometimes for company; that is, concur:  
And that's their business.  M. 
They are as weary of this sport  
As a young unthrift of's land:  
Any bargain to be rid on't.  V. 
Can you blame them?—  
Who 's that?  M. 
Brennoralt, our brave Colonel:  
A discontent, but, what of that? who is not?  V. 
His face speaks him one.  G. 
Thou art i' th' right.  
He looks still as if he were saying to  
Fortune; Huswife, go about your business.  
Come, let's retire to Barathens Tent.  
Taste a bottle, and speak bold truths;  
That's our way now. Ex. Manet King and Lords.  Mies. 
— Think not of pardon Sir,  
Rigour and mercy used in States uncertainly,  
And in ill times, look not like th' effects  
Of virtue, but necessity: Nor will  
They thank your goodness, but your fears.—  Melid. 
My Lords;  
Revenge in Princes should be still imperfect:  
It is then handsomest, when the King comes to  
Reduce, not Ruin—  Bre. 
Who puts but on the face of punishing,  
And only gently cuts, but prunes rebellion:  
He makes that flourish which he would destroy.  
Who would not be a Rebel when the hopes  
Are vast, the fears but small?  [Mel.] 
Why, I would not.  
Nor you my Lord, nor you, nor any here.  
Fear keeps low spirits only in, the brave  
Do get above it, when they do resolve.  
Such punishments in infancy of war,  
Make men more desperate, not the more yielding.  
The common people are a kind of flies;  
They be caught with honey, not with wormwood, Sir.  
Severity exasp'rates the stirred humour;  
And State distempers turns into diseases.  Bre. 
The gods forbid, great Poland's State should be  
Such as it dares not take right Physic. Quarter  
To Rebels? Sir! when you give that to them,  
Give that to me, which they deserve. I would  
Not live to see it—  3 Lord. 
Turn o'er your own, and other Chronicles,  
And you shall find (great Sir)  
" That nothing makes a Civil war long lived,  
" But ransom and returning back the brands  
Which unextinct, kindled still fiercer fires.  Mies. 
Mercy bestowed on those that do dispute  
With swords, does lose the Angel's face it has,  
And is not mercy Sir, but policy;  
With a weak vizard on—  King. 
— YE have met my thoughts  
My Lords; nor will it need larger debate.  
To morrow, in the sight of the besieged,  
The Rebel dies: Miesla, 'tis your care.  
The mercy of Heaven may be offended so,  
That it cannot forgive: Mortals much more,  
Which is not infinite, my Lords. (Exeunt.  Enter Iphigene, Almerin (as in prison.) Iph. 
O Almarin; would we had never known  
The ruffle of the world! but were again  
By Stolden banks, in happy solitude;  
When thou and I, Shepherd and Shepherdess;  
So oft by turns, as often still have wished,  
That we as easily could have changed our sex,  
As clothes; but (alas!) all those innocent joys,  
Like glorious Mornings, are retired into  
Dark sullen clouds, before we knew to value  
What we had.  [Alme.] 
Fame & victory are light (to himself.  
Huswives, that throw themselves into the arms,  
Not of the valiant, but the fortunate.  
To be ta'en, thus!  [Iph.] 
Almerin  [Alm.] 
nipped ' i'th' bud  
Of honour!  [Iph.] 
My Lord  [Alm.] 
Foiled! & by the man  
That does pretend unto Francelia!  Iph. 
What is't you do, my Almerin? sit still?  
And quarrel with the Winds, because there is  
A shipwreck towards, and never think of saving  
The bark?  [Almer:] 
The Bark? What should we do with that  
When the rich freight is lost: my name in arms?  Iph. 
— Who knows  
What prizes are behind, if you attend  
And wait a second Voyage?  [Almer:] 
Never, never:  
There are no second Voyages in this,  
The wounds of honour do admit no cure.  Iph. 
Those slight ones which misfortune gives, must needs.  
Else, why should Mortals value it at all?  
For who would toil to treasure up a wealth;  
Which weak inconstancy did keep, or might  
Dispose of?— Enter Melidor.  
Oh my Lord, what news?  Mel. 
As ill as your own fears could give you;  
The Council has decreed him sudden death,  
And all the ways to mercy are blocked up. (She weeps and sighs.  Almer. 
My Iphigene—  
This was a misbecoming piece of love:  
Women would manage a disaster better— (Iphig: weeps & sighs again.  
Again? thou art unkind—  
Thy goodness is so great, it makes thee faulty:  
For while thou thinkst to take the trouble from me,  
Thou givest me more, by giving me thine too.  Iph. 
Alas! I am indeed a useless trifle;  
A dull, dull thing: For could I now do any thing  
But grieve and pity, I might help: my thoughts  
Labour to find a way; but like to birds  
In cages, though they never rest they are  
But where they did set out at first—  Enter Jailor. Jay. 
My Lords, your pardon:  
The prisoner must retire;  
I have received an order from the King,  
Denies access to any.  Iph. 
— He cannot be  
So great a Tyrant.  [Almer.] 
I thank him; nor can  
He use me ill enough: I only grieve  
That I must die in debt; a Bankrupt: Such  
Thy love hath made me: My dear Iphigene  
Farewell: It is no time for Ceremony.  
Show me the way I must— (Exit.  Iph. 
Grief strove with such disorder to get out,  
It stopped the passage, and sent back my words  
That were already on the place—  [Melid.] 
stay, there  
Is yet a way.  [Iph.] 
O speak it  [Mel.] 
But there is  
Danger in't Iphigene, to thee high danger.  Iph. 
Fright children in the dark with that, and let  
Me know it: There is no such thing in nature  
If Almerin be lost.  [Melid.] 
Thus then; You must  
Be taken prisoner too, and by exchange  
Save Almerin.  Iph. 
How can that be?  Mel. 
Why— (studies.  
Step in, and pray him set his hand, about (To the Jailor.  
This distance; his seal too—  Jay. 
My Lord, I know not what this is.  Mel. 
Settling of money-busines, fool, betwixt us.  Jay. 
If't be no more— (Exit.  Mel. 
Tell him that Iphigene and I desire it:  
I'll send by Strathocles his servant,  
A Letter to Morat thus signed and sealed,  
That shall inform the sudden execution;  
Command him as the only means  
To save his life, to sally out this night  
Upon the quarters, and endeavour prisoners.  
Name you as most secure and slightest guarded,  
Best pledge of safety; but charge him,  
That he kill not any, if it be avoidable;  
Lest 't should enrage the King yet more,  
And make his death more certain. (Enter Jailor with the writing.  Jay. 
He understands you not  
He says; but he has sent it.  Melid. 
So—  Iph. 
But should Morat mistrust now?  
Or this miscarry?  Melid. 
— Come;  
Leave it to me; I'll take the Pilots part;  
And reach the Port, or perish in the Art. (Exeunt.   

ACT II. SCENE I.  Enter Almerin (in prison.) Almer. 
SLeep is as nice as woman;  
The more I court it, the more it flies me;  
Thy elder brother will be kinder yet,  
Unsent for death will come.— To morrow—  
Well— What can to morrow do?  
'Twill cure the sense of honour lost—  
I, and my discontents shall rest together,  
What hurt is there in this?  
But death against the will,  
Is but a slovenly kind of potion;  
And though prescribed by Heaven,  
It goes against men's stomaches:  
So does it at fourscore too; when the soul's  
Mewed up in narrow darkness;  
Neither sees nor hears,— pish, 'tis mere fondness in our nature;  
A certain clownish cowardice, that still  
Would stay at home, and dares not venture  
Into foreign Countries, though better than  
It's own,— ha, what Countries? for we receive  
Descriptions of th'other world from our Divines,  
As blind men take relation of this from us:  
My thoughts lead me into the dark,  
And there they'll leave me, I'll no more on't,  
Within. (Knocks)— Enter.  
Some paper and a light, I'll write to th' King:  
Defy him, and provoke a quick dispatch.  
I would not hold this lingering doubtful State  
So long again, for all that hope can give.  Enter 3 of the Guard (with paper and Ink) 
That sword does tempt me strangely— (writing.  
Were't in my hands, 'twere worth th' other two.  
But then the Guard,— it sleeps or drinks; may be  
To contrive it so that if I should not pass,—  
Why if I fall in't,  
'Tis better yet then Pageantry;  
A scaffold and spectators; more soldierlike— One of the Guard peeps over his shoulder.  
Uncivil villain, read my letter?— (Seizes his sword.  1 Guar. 
Not I, not I my Lord.  Alm. 
Deny it too?  Guar. 
Murder, murder.  Guar. 
Arm, arm— (The Guard runs out.  Alm. 
I'll follow,  
Give the alarm with them,  
'Tis least suspicious— (Arm, arm, arm.  
All— the enemy, the enemy— (Enter Soldiers running over the Stage, one throwing away his arms.  Soul. 
Let them come.  
Let them come.  
Let them come— (Enter Almerin.  Alm. 
I hear fresh noise,  
The camp's in great disorder: where am I now?  
'Tis strangely dark— Goddess without eyes  
Be thou my guide, for— blindness and sight  
Are equal sense, of equal use, this night.  Enter Grainevert, Stratheman, Villanor, Marinell. Gra. 
Trouble not thyself, child of discontent:  
'Twill take no hurt I warrant thee;  
The State is but a little drunk,  
And when 't'as spewed up that that made it so,  
'Twill be well again, there's my opinion in short.  Mar. 
Th' art i'th' right.  
The State's a pretty forehanded State,  
And will do reason hereafter.  
Let's drink and talk no more on't.  All. 
— A good motion, a good motion,  
Let's drink.  Villa. 
ay, ay let's drink again.  Stra. 
Come, to a Mistress.  Gra. 
Agreed.  
Name, name.  Villa. 
Any body.— Vermilia.  Gra. 
Away with it.  
she's pretty to walk with:  
And witty to talk with:  
And pleasant too to think on.  
But the best use of all,  
Is her health, is a stale  
And helps us to make us drink on▪  Stra. 
Excellent.  
Gentlemen, if you say the word,  
we'll vaunt credit, and affect high pleasure.  
Shall we?  Villa. 
ay, I, let's do that.  Stra. 
What think ye of the sacrifice now?  Mar. 
Come we'll have't,— for trickling tears are vain▪  Villa. 
The sacrifice? what's that?  Stra. 
Child of ignorance, 'tis a camp health.  
An A— lafoy— mode one. Grainevert begin it.  Grain. 
Come give it me.  
Let me see— (Pins up a Rose.  
Which of them this Rose will serve.  
Hum, hum, hum.  
Bright Star o'th' lower Orb, twinkling Inviter,  
Which drawest (as well as eyes) but settest men righter:  
For who at thee begins▪ comes to the place,  
Sooner than he that sets out at the face:  
Eyes are seducing lights, that the goodwomen know,  
And hang out these a nearer way to show.  Mar. 
Fine, and pathetical:  
Come Villanor.  Vill▪ 
What's the matter?  Mar. 
Come, your liquor, and your stanzas.  
Lines, Lines.  Villa. 
Of what?  Mar. 
Why, of any thing your Mistress has given you.  Vil. 
Gentlemen, she never gave me any thing, but a box  
Oth'eare, for offering to kiss her once.  Stra. 
Of that box then  Mar. 
ay, I, that box, of that box.  Villa. 
Since it must be,  
Give me the poison then.— (Drinks and spits.  
That box fair Mistress, which thou gavest to me,  
In humane guests, is like to cost me three:  
Three cups of Wine, and verses six,  
The Wine will down, but verse for rhyme still sticks.  
By which you all may easily Gentiles know,  
I am a better drinker than a Po— Enter Doran.  Mar. 
Doran.  
Doran.  Gra. 
A hall, a hall  
To welcome our friend  
For some liquor call,  
A new or fresh face,  
Must not alter our pace,  
But make us still drink the quicker:  
Wine, Wine, oh'tis divine  
Come fill it unto our brother:  
What's at the tongues end,  
It forth does send,  
And will not a syllable smother Then,  
It unlocks the breast  
And throws out the rest,  
And learns us to know each other.  
Wine,— Wine.—  Dor. 
Mad lads▪ have you been here ever since?  Stra. 
Yes faith, thou seest the worst of us.  
We— debauch— in discipline:  
Four and twenty hours is the time:  
Barruthen had the watch to night,  
To morrow 'twill be at my Tent.  Dor. 
Good,  
And d' you know what has fall'n out to night?  Stra. 
Yes:  
Grainevert, and my Lieutenant Colonel:  
But they are friends again.  Dor. 
Pish, pish— the young Palatine of Plocence,  
And his grave guardian surprised too night,  
Carried by the enemy out of his quarters.  G. 
As a chicken by a Kite out of a back side,  
Was't not so?  D. 
Is that all?  G. 
Yes.  
My Colonel did not love him:  
He eats sweet meats upon a march too.  D. 
Well, hark ye;  
Worse yet; Almerin's gone:  
Forced the Court of Guard where he was prisoner,  
And has made an escape.  G. 
So pale and spiritless a wretch,  
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,  
And told him half his Troy was burnt—  
He was of my mind. I would have done so myself.  D. 
Well.  
There's high suspicions abroad:  
Ye shall see strange discoveries  
I'th' Council of War.  G. 
What Council?  D. 
One called this morning.  
YE are all sent to.  G. 
I will put on clean linen, and speak wisely.  V. 
'Sfoot we'll have a Round first.  G. 
By all means Sir.  
Sings:  
Come let the State stay,  
And drink away,  
There is no business above it:  
It warms the cold brain,  
Makes us speak in high strain,  
he's a fool that does not approve it.  
The Macedon youth  
Left behind him this truth,  
That nothing is done with much thinking;  
He drunk, and he fought,  
Till he had what he sought,  
The world was his own by good drinking.  (Exeunt. Enter General of the Rebels, Palatine of Trocke, Palatine of Mensecke, Francelia, Almerin, Morat, Iphigene. G. 
As your friend, my Lord, he has the privilege of ours,  
And may enjoy a liberty we would deny  
To enemies.  A. 
I thank your Excellence; oh Iphigene,  
He does not know,  
That thou the nobler part of friendship hold'st,  
And dost oblige, whilst I can but acknowledge.  Men. 
Opportunity to Statesmen, is as the just degree  
Of heat to Chemists— it perfects all the work,  
And in this prisoner 'tis offered.  
We now are there, where men should still begin;  
To treat upon advantage.  
The Palatine of Trocke, and Mensecke,  
With Almerin, shall to the King;  
Petitions shall be drawn,  
Humble in form, but such for matter,  
As the bold Macedonian youth would send  
To men he did despise for luxury.  
The first begets opinion of the world,  
Which looks not far, but on the outside dwells:  
Th' other enforces courage in our own,  
For bold demands must boldly be maintained.  Pal. 
Let all go on still in the public name,  
But keep an ear open to particular offers;  
Liberty and public good are like great Oleos  
Must have the uper end still of our tables,  
Though they are but for show.  Fra. 
Would I had ne'er seen this shape, 't has poison in't,  
Yet where dwells good, if ill inhabits there?  Min. 
— Press much religion,  
For though we dress the scruples for the multitude,  
And for ourselves reserve th' advantages,  
(It being much pretext) yet is it necessary;  
For things of faith are so abstruse, and nice,  
They will admit dispute eternally:  
So how so e'er other demands appear,  
These never can be proved unreasonable;  
The subject being of so fine a nature,  
It not submits itself to sense, but escapes▪  
The trials which conclude all common doubts.  Fra. 
My Lord, you use me as ill Painters paint,  
Who while they labour to make faces fair,  
Neglect to make them like.  Iphi. 
Madam, there is no ship wrack of your  
Virtues near, that you should throw away  
Any of all your excellencies  
To save the dearest, modesty.  Gener. 
If they proceed with us, we can retreat unto  
Our expositions, and the people's votes.  
If they refuse us wholly, then we plead,  
The King's besieged, blocked up so straightly  
By some few, relief can find no way  
To enter to the King, or to get out to us,  
Exclaim against it loud,  
Till the Polonians think it high injustice,  
And wish us better yet.  
Then easily do we rise unto our ends.  
And will become their envy through their pity.  
At worst you may confirm our party there:  
Increase it too: there is one Brennoralt,  
Men call him Gallant, but a discontent:  
My Cousin▪ the King hath used him ill.  
Him a handsome whisper will draw.  
The afternoon shall perfect  
What we have loosely now resolved.—  Iphi. 
If in discourse of beauty,  
(So large an Empire) I do wonder,  
It will become your goodness Madam,  
To set me right.  
And in a country where you yourself is Queen,  
Not suffer strangers lose themselves.  Gener. 
What, making revenges Palatine?  
And taking prisoners fair Ladies hearts?  Iphi. 
Yes my Lord.  
And have no better fortune in this War,  
Then in the other; for while I think to take,  
I am surprised myself.  Fra. 
Dissembler, would thou wert.  M. 
You are a Courtier my Lord;  
The Palatine of Plocence, (Almerin)  
Will grace the Hymeneals;  
And that they may be while his stay is here,  
I'll court my Lord in absence;  
Take off for you the little strangenesses  
Virgins wear at first,— (Iphe sounds.  
Look to the Palatine.  Mer. 
How is't my dearest Iphegene?  Iph. 
Not well I would retire.  G. 
A qualm.  Lo. 
His colour stole away; sank down,  
As water in a weatherglass  
Pressed by a warm hand.  Mens. 
A cordial of kind looks,— (Enter a Trumpet blinded.  
From the King.  M. 
Let's withdraw,  
And hear him.— Exit.  Enter Brennoralt, Doran, Raguelin. Dor. 
Yes to be married;  
What are you mute now?  Bren. 
Thou cam'st too hastily upon me, put'st  
So close the colours to mine eye, I could  
Not see. It is impossible.  [Dor.] 
impossible?  
If't were impossible, it should be otherwise,  
What can you imagine there of Constancy?  
Where 'tis so much their nature to love change,  
That when they say but what they are,  
They excuse themselves for what they do?  Bren. 
She hardly knows him yet, in such an instant.  Dor. 
Oh you know not how fire flies,  
When it does catch light matter, woman.  B. 
No more of that; She is  
Yet the most precious thing in all my thoughts.  
If it be so— (Studies.)  
I am a lost thing in the world Doran.  D. 
How?  Bren. 
Thou wilt in vain persuade me to be other  
Life which to others is a Good that they  
Enjoy, to me will be an evil, I  
Shall suffer in—  Dor. 
Look on another face, that's present remedy.  Bren. 
How ill thou dost conclude?  
'Cause there are pestilent airs, which kill men suddenly  
In health, must there be sovereign as suddenly,  
To cure in sickness? 't never was in nature.  Exit, and Enters again hastily. Bren. 
I was a fool to think, Death only kept  
The doors of ill-payed love, when or disdain,  
Or spite could let me out as well—  Dor. 
Right; were I as you,  
It should no more trouble me  
To free myself of love,  
Then to spit out that which made me sick.  Bren. 
I'll tell her so; that she may laugh at me,  
As at a prisoner threatening his Guard,  
He will break loose, and so is made the faster.  
She hath charms.— (Studies)  
Doran can fetch in a rebellious heart,  
Even while it is conspiring liberty.  
— Oh she hath all  
The virtues of her sex, and not the vices,  
Chaste and unsullied, as first opening Lilies,  
Or untouched buds—  Dor. 
Chaste? why! do you honour me,  
Because I throw myself not off a precipice?  
'Tis her ruin to be otherwise;  
Though we blame those that kill themselves (my Lord)  
We praise not him that keeps himself alive,  
And deserves nothing.  Bren. 
And 'tis the least.  
She does triumph, when she does but appear:  
I have as many Rivals as beholders.  Dor. 
All that increases but our jealousies;  
If you have now such qualms for that you havenot,  
What will you have for that you shall possess?  Bren. 
— Dull haeritique;  
Know I have these, because I have not her:  
When I have her, I shall have these no more.  
Her fancy now, her virtue then will govern:  
And as I use to watch with doubtful eye,  
The wavering needle in the best Sundial,  
Till it has settled, than the trouble's o'er,  
Because I know when it is Fixed, it's True:  
So here my doubts are all afore me. Sure,  
Doran, crowned Conquerors are but the types  
Of Lovers, which enjoy, and really  
Possess, what th'other have in dreams. I'll send  
A challenge to him.—  Dor. 
Do, and be thought a madman.  
To what purpose?  
If she love him, she will but hate you more.  
Lovers in favour (Brenkoralt) are Gamesters  
In good fortune; the more you set them,  
The more they get.  Bren. 
I'll see her then this night, by Heaven I will.  Dor. 
Where? in the Citadel?  Bren. 
Know what, and why.—  Dor. 
He raves, Brennoralt?  Bren. 
Let me alone.—  
I conjure thee, by the discretion  
Left betwixt us, (that's thine,  
For mine's devoured by injuries of fortune,)  
Leave me to myself.  Dor. 
I have done.  Bren. 
Is there such a passage,  
As thou hast told me of, into the Castle?  Rag. 
There is my Lord.  Bren. 
And dar'st thou let me in?  Rag. 
If you my Lord will venture.  Bren. 
There are no Centry's near it.  Rag. 
None.  Bren. 
How to the chamber afterward?  Rag. 
Her woman.  Bren. 
What's she?  Rag. 
A wicket to my Lady's secrets,  
One that stands up to marriage with me.  Bren. 
There— upon thy life be secret.— (flings a purse.  Rag. 
Else,— All punishment to ingratitude.—  Bren. 
Enough,  
I am a storm within till I am there,  
Oh Doran!  
That that, which is so pleasant to behold,  
Should be such pain within!  Dor. 
Poor Brennoralt!  
Thou art the Martyr of a thousand tyrants:  
Love, Honour, and Ambition reign by turns,  
And show their power upon thee.  Bren. 
Why, let them; I'm still Brennoralt:" Even King's  
" Themselves, are by their servants ruled sometimes;  
" Let their own slaves govern them at odd hours:  
" Yet not subject their Persons or their Powers.  Exeunt.  

ACT III. SCENE I.  Enter Iphigene (as in a Garden) Iphi. 
WHat have I got by changing place?  
But as a wretch which ventures to the Wars,  
Seeking the misery with pain abroad,  
He found, but wisely thought h'had left at home.  
Fortune thou hast no tyranny beyond  
This usage.— (Weeps  
Would I had never hoped  
Or had betimes despaired, let never in  
The gentle thief, or kept him but a guest,  
Not made him Lord of all.  
Tempests of wind thus (as my storms of grief  
Carry my tears, which should relieve my heart)  
Have hurried to the thankless Ocean clouds  
And showers, that needed not at all the courtesy;  
When the poor plains have languished for the want,  
And almost burnt asunder.—  
I'll have this Statues place, and undertake  
At my own charge to keep the water full.— (Lies down.  Enter Francelia. Fran. 
These fond impressions grow too strong upon me,  
They were at first without design or end;  
Like the first Elements, that know not what  
And why they act, and yet produce strange things;  
Poor innocent desires, journeying they know  
Not whether: but now they promise to themselves  
Strange things, grow insolent, threaten no rest  
Till they be satisfied.  
What difference was between these Lords?  
The one made love, as if he by assault  
Would take my heart, so forced it to defence;  
While t'other blew it up with secret mines,  
And lest no place for it, here he is.—  
Tears steal too from his eyes,  
As if not daring to be known  
To pass that way: make it good, cunning grief  
Thou know'st thou couldst not dress thyself  
In any other looks, to make thee lovely. (spies Francelia)  Iphi. 
Francelia  
If through the ignorance of places,  
I have intruded on your privacies,  
Found out forbidden paths; 'tis fit you pardon, Madam:  
For 'tis my melancholy, not I, offends.  Fran. 
So great a melancholy would well become  
Mischances, such as time could not repair:  
Those of the war, are but the petty cures  
Of every coming hour.—  Iphi. 
Why should I not tell her all? since 'tis in her  
To save my life; who knows but she may be  
Gallant so far, as to undo herself  
To make another happy?— Madam,  
The accidents of war contribute least  
To my sad thoughts, (if any such I have)  
— Imprisonment can never be—  
Where the place holds what we must love, and yet—  Fran. 
My Lord?  Iphi. 
In this imprisonment.—  Fran. 
Proceed my Lord:  Iphi. 
I dare not Madam.  Fran. 
I see I do disturb you, and enter upon secrets—  
Which when I know, I cannot serve you in them.  Iphi. 
Oh most of any  
You are the cause of all.  Fran. 
I my Lord?  Iphi. 
You Madam— you alone.  Fran. 
Alas! that 'tis too soon to understand.  Iphi. 
Must not you marry Almerin?  Fran. 
They tell me 'tis designed.  Iphi. 
If he have you, I am for ever lost  Fran. 
— Lost?  
The Heavens forbid they should design so ill!  
Or when they shall, that I should be the cause.  Iphi. 
Ha! her eyes are strangely kind,  
She prompts me excellently,  
Stars be propitious, and I am safe.  
— A way I not expected.  Fran. 
His passion labours for vent.  Iphi. 
Is there a hope you will not give yourself  
To Almerin?  Fran. 
My Lord this air is common,  
The walks within are pleasanter.— (Exit.  Iphi. 
— Invitation!  
God of desires, be kind, and fill me now  
With language; such thou lendest thy Favourites,  
When thou wouldst give them easy victories:  
And I forgive thee, all thy cruelties.— (Exit. after.  Enter Palatine of Trock, Menseck, Almerin, Brennoralt, Lords. Mens. 
— Consider too, that those  
Who are necessiated to use violence,  
Have first been violent by necessity.  Pall. 
— But still you judge not right  
" Of the Prerogative;" For oft it stands  
" With Power and Law, as with our Faith and Reason:  
" It is not all against, that is above. (my lord)  2. Lord. 
You Lithuanians had of all least reason;  
For would the King be unjust to you he cannot:  
Where there's so little to be had.—  Almer. 
Where there is least, there's liberty (my lord)  
And 'tis more injury to pull hairs  
From the bald, then from the bushy heads. (They go off talking; Trock pulls Brennoralt.  Pall. 
of Tro. Brennoralt— a word  
My Lord, the world hath cast its eye upon you,  
And marked you out one of the foremost men:  
Y'have busied fame the eareliest of any,  
And send her still on errands.  
Much of the bravery of your nation,  
Has taken up its lodging in you.  
And gallant men but copy from you.  Bren. 
'Tis goodly language this, what would it mean?  Pall. of Tro. 
The Lithuanians wish you well, and wonder  
So much desert should be so ill rewarded.  Bren. 
Good.  Pall. 
While all the gifts the Crown is Mistress of,  
Are placed upon the empty—  Bren. 
Still I take yond not.  P. 
Then to be plain; our Army would be proud of you:  
Pay the neglected scores of merit double.  
All that you hold here of command, and what  
Your fortune in this Sigismond has suffer'd,  
Repair, and make it fairer than at first.  Bren. 
How?  
Then nothing, Lord; trifle below ill language:  
How came it in thy heart to tempt my honour?  Pall. 
My Lord?  Bren. 
Dost think 'cause I am angry  
With the King and State sometimes  
I am fallen out with virtue, and myself?  
Draw, draw, or by goodness—  P 
What means your Lordship?  Bren. 
Draw I say.  
— He that would think me a villain, is one:  
And I do wear this toy, to purge the world Ent. K of Pal. Lords, Melid. Miesla.  
Of such. Th'have saved thee, wert thou good natured  
Thou wouldst love the King the better during life.  K. 
If they be just, they call for gracious answers:  
Speedy, (how e'er) we promise. (They all kisle the King's hand.  All. 
Long live great Sigismond.  Bren. 
— The Lithuanians Sir,  
Are of the wilder sort of creatures, must  
Be rid with Cavilons, and with harsh curbs.  
And since the war can only make them tried,  
What can be used but swords? where men have fallen  
From not respecting Royalty, unto  
A liberty of offending it: what though  
Their numbers (possibly) equal yours Sir?  
And now forced by necessity, like Cats  
In narrow rooms, they fly up in your face?  
Think you Rebellion and Loyalty  
Are empty names? and that in Subject's hearts  
They don't both give and take away the courage?  
Shall we believe there is no difference  
In good and bad? that there's no punishment,  
Or no protection? forbid it Heaven!  
If when great Poland's honour, safety too,  
Hangs in dispute, we should not draw our Swords,  
Why were we ever taught to wear 'em Sir?  Mi. 
This late commotion in your Kingdom Sir,  
Is like a growing Wen upon the face,  
Which as we cannot look one but with trouble,  
So take't away we cannot but with danger.  
War there hath foulest face, and I most fear it  
Where the pretence is fairest. Religion  
And Liberty, most specious names, they urge;  
Which like the Bills of subtle Mountebanks,  
Filled with great promises of curing all,  
— Though by the wise,  
Passed by unread as common cozenage,  
Yet, By th'unknowing multitude they're still  
Admired, and flocked unto.—  K. 
Is there no way  
To disabuse them?  [Melid] 
All is now too late.  
` The vulgar in Religion are like  
" Unknown Lands; those that first possess them, have them▪  
Then, Sir, consider, justness of Cause is nothing:  
When things are risen to the point they are;  
'Tis either not examined or believed  
Among the Warlike.—  
The better cause the Grecians had of Yore,  
Yet were the Gods themselves divided in't;  
And the foul ravisher found as good protection  
As the much injured husband.—  
Nor are you Sir assured of all behind you:  
For though your Person in your Subjects hearts  
Stands highly honoured, and beloved, yet are  
There certain Acts of State, which men call grievances  
Abroad; and though they bore them in the times  
Of peace, yet will they now perchance, seek to  
Be free, and throw them off." For know Dread Sir,  
" The Common People are much like the Sea,  
" That suffers things to fall and sink unto  
" The bottom in a Calm, which in a Storm  
" Stirred and enraged, it lifts, and does keep up  
Then; Time distempers cures more safely Sir,  
Then Physic does, or instant letting-bloud:  
Religion now is a young Mistress there,  
For which each man will fight, and die at least;  
Let it alone a while, and 'twill become  
A kind of married wife: people will be  
Content to live with it in quietness.  
(If that at least may be) my voice is therefore Sir,  
For Peace.—  Mies. 
Were Sir the question simply War or Peace,  
It were no more than shortly to be asked,  
Whether we would be well or ill:  
Since War the sickness of the Kingdom is,  
And Peace the health: But here I do conceive  
'Twill rather lie, whether we had not better,  
Endure sharp sickness for a time, to enjoy  
A perfect strength, then have it languish on us:  
For Peace and War in an incestuous line,  
Have still begot each other.—  
Those men that highly now have broke all Laws,  
(The great one only 'tis 'twixt man and man)  
What safety can they promise, though you give it?  
Will they not still suspect, (and justly too)  
That all those civil bonds (new made) should be  
Broken again to them? so being still  
In fears and jealousies themselves, they must  
Infect the People:" For in such a case  
" The private safety is the public trouble.  
Nor will they ever want Pretext;" Since he  
" That will maintain it with his Sword he's injured,  
" May say't at any time—  
Then Sir, as terrible as war appears,  
My vote is for't; nor shall I ever care  
How ugly my Physician's face shall be,  
So he can do the cure.  Lord. 
In entering physic,  
I think, Sir, none so much considers  
The Doctor's face, as his own body.  
To keep on foot the war with all your wants,  
Is to let blood, and take strong potions,  
In dangerous sickness.  K. 
I see, and wonder not to find, my Lords,  
This difference in opinion; the subject's large:  
Nor can we there too much dispute, where when  
We err, 'tis at a Kingdom's charges; Peace  
And war are in themselves indifferent,  
And time doth stamp them either good or bad:  
But here the place is much considerable;  
" War in our own is like to too much heat  
" Within, it makes the body sick; when in  
" Another Country, 'tis but exercise;  
" Conveys that heat abroad, and gives it health.  
To that I bend my thoughts; but leave it to  
Our greater Council, which we now assemble:  
Mean time exchange of prisoners only we  
Assent unto—  lord 
Nothing of Truce, Sir?  [K.] 
No: we'll not take up  
Quiet at interest: Perfect Peace, or nothing.  
" Cessations for short times in war, are like  
" Small fits of health, in desperate maladies:  
" Which while the instant pain seems to abate,  
" Flatters into debauch and worse estate.— Exeunt.  Enter Iphigene as leading to her chamber Francelia; Servants with lights; Morat, and another Soldier. Iph. 
I have not left myself a fair retreat,  
And must be now the blessed object  
Of your love, or subject of your scorn.  Fran. 
I fear some treachery;  
And that mine eyes have given intelligence.  
Unless you knew there would be weak defence,  
You durst not think of taking in a heart,  
As soon as you set down before it.  Iph. 
Condemn my Love not of such fond ambition,  
It aims not at a conquest,  
But exchange, Francelia— (whisper.  Mor. 
They be very great in this short time.  Sol. 
'Tis ever so:  
Young and handsome  
Have made acquaintances in nature:  
So when they meet, they have the less to do.  
It is for age or ugliness to make approaches,  
And keep a distance.  Iph. 
When I shall see other perfection,  
Which at the best will be but other vanity,  
Not more, I shall not love it—  Fran. 
'Tis still one step not to despair, my Lord.  Exeunt Iphig. Fran. servants. Morat. 
Dost think he will fight?  Sold. 
Troth it may be not:  
Nature, in those fine pieces, does as Painters;  
Hangs out a pleasant Excellence  
That takes the eye, which is indeed,  
But a course canvas in the naked truth,  
Or some slight stuff.  Morat. 
I have a great mind to taste him.  Sold. 
Fie! a Prisoner?  Morat. 
By this hand if I thought— Enter Iphig: waiting-woman coming after him.  
He courted my Colonels Mrs in earnest.  Wom. 
My Lord, my Lord,  
My Lady thinks the Gessimine walks  
Will be the finer, the freshness  
f th' morning takes of the strength  
O' th' heat she says.  Iph. 
'Tis well.  Mor. 
Mewe— do it so? I suspect vildly,  
we'll follow him, and see if he be  
So far qualified towards a soldier,  
As to drink a crash in's chamber— (Raguelin pulls the waiting woman back.  R. 
Where are those keys?  Wom. 
Hark you, I dare not do it.  R. 
How?  Wom. 
My Lady will find—  R. 
Scruples?  
Are my hopes become your fears?  
There was no other way I should be any thing  
In this lewd world,— and now—  
'Sfoot, I know she longs to see him too.  Wom. 
Does she?  R. 
Do you think he would desire it else?  Wom. 
ay, but—  R. 
Why, let me secure it all.  
I'll say I found the Keys, or stole them: Come—  Wom. 
Well, if you ruin all now—  
Here, these enter the garden from the works,  
That the privy walks and that the back stairs.  
Then you know my chamber.  R. 
Yes I know your chamber.— Exeunt  Enter Brennoralt. Bren. 
He comes not.  
One wise thought more▪ and I return:  
I cannot in this act separate the foolish  
From the bold so far, but still it tastes o' th', rash.  
Why let it taste, it tastes of love too;  
And to all actions 't gives a pretty relish, that.  Enter Raguelin. Rag. 
My Lord?  Bren. 
Oh— here.  Rag. 
'Sfoot ye are upon our Sentries.  
Move on this hand.— Exeunt.  Enter (again) Bren. and Rague. Bren. 
Where are we now?  Ra. 
Entering part of the Fort,  
Your Lordship must be wet a little.— Exeunt.  Enter (again.) Bren. 
Why are there here no guards?  Ra. 
There needs none:  
You presently must pass a place,  
Where one's an Army in defence,  
It is so steep and straight.  Bren. 
'Tis well.  Ra. 
These are the steps of danger;  
Look to your way my Lord.  Bren. 
I do not find such difficulty.  Francelia (as in a bed.) Bren. 
Wait me here abouts— (he draws the curtains.  
So Misers look upon their gold,  
Which while they joy to see, they fear to lose:  
The pleasure of the sight scarce equalling,  
The jealousy of being dispossessed by others;  
Her face is like the milky way i'th' sky,  
A meeting of gentle lights without name.  
Heavens! shall this fresh ornament  
Of the world; this precious lovelines  
Pass with other common things  
Amongst the wastes of time, what pity 't were. (She wakes.  Franc. 
Bless me!  
Is it a Vision, or Brennoralt?  Bren. 
Brennoralt, Lady.  Franc. 
Brennoralt? innocence guard me;  
What is 't you have done my Lord?  Bren. 
Alas I were in too good estate,  
If I knew what I did.  
But why ask you Madam?  Fran. 
It much amazes me to think  
How you came hither.  
And what could bring you to endanger thus  
My honour, and your own life?  
Nothing but saving of my brother  
Could make me now preserve you.  Bren. 
Reproach me not the follies, you yourself▪  
Make me commit—  
I am reduced to such extremity,  
That love himself (high tyrant as he is)  
If he could see would pity me.  Fran. 
I understand you not.  Bren. 
Would heaven you did, for 't is a pain to tell you:  
I come t'accuse you of injustice (Madam)  
You first begot my passion, and was  
Content (at least you seemed so) it should live;  
Yet since would ne'er contribute unto it,  
Not look upon 't, as if you had desired,  
It's being for no other end; but for  
The pleasure of its ruin—  Fran. 
Why do you labour thus to make me guilty of  
An injury to you, which when it is one,  
All mankind is alike engaged, and must  
Have quarrel to me?  Bren. 
I have done ill; you chide me justly (Madam)  
I'll lay 't not on you, but on my wretched self.  
For I am taught that heavenly bodies  
Are not malicious in their influence,  
But by the disposition of the subject.  
They tell me you must marry Almerin:  
Sure such excellence ought to be  
The recompense of virtue;  
Not the sacrifice of Parent's wisdom,  
Should it not Madam?  Fran. 
'Twould injure me, were it thought otherwise.  Br. 
And shall he have you then that knew you yesterday?  
Is there in martyrdom no juster way?  
But he that holds a finger in the fire  
A little time, should have the Crown from them  
That have endured the flame with constancy?  Fran. 
If the discovery will ease your thoughts  
My Lord; know Almerin is as the man  
I never saw.  [Bren.] 
You do not marry then?  
Condemned men thus hear, and thus receive  
Repreeves. One question more, and I am gone.  
Is there to latitude of eternity  
A hope for Brennoralt?  Fran. 
My Lord?  Bren. 
Have I a place at all,  
When you do think of men?  Fran. 
My Lord, a high one,  
I must be singular did I not value you:  
The world does set great rates upon you,  
And you have first deserved them.  Bren. 
Is this all?  Fran. 
All.  Bren. 
Oh be less kind, or kinder:  
Give me more pity, or more cruelty, Francelia.  
I cannot live with this, nor die—  Fran. 
I fear my Lord,  
You must not hope beyond it.  Bren. 
Not hope? This, sure, is not the body to (views himself.  
This soul; it was mistaken, shuffled in  
Through haste: Why (else) should that have so much love,  
And this want loveliness, to make that love  
Received?— I will raise honour to a point,  
It never was— do things (studies.  
Of such a virtuous greatness she shall love me.  
She shall— I will deserve her, though  
I have her not: There's something yet in that.  
Madam, wilt please you, pardon my offence?  
— (Oh Fates!  
That I must call thus my affection!)  Fran. 
I will do any thing, so you will think  
Of me, and of yourself (my Lord) and how  
Your stay endangers both—  [Bren.] 
Alas!  
Your pardon is more necessary to  
My life, than life to me: but I am gone.  
Blessings, such as my wishes for you, in  
Their ecstasies, could never reach, fall on you.  
May every thing contribute to preserve  
That excellence (my destruction) till't meet joys  
In love, great as the torments I have in't. Exit.   

ACT IV. SCENE I.  Enter Brennoralt. Bren. 
Why so, 'tis well, Fortune I thank thee still,  
I dare not call thee villain neither.  
'Twas plotted from the first,  
That's certain,— it looks that way?  
Hum— caught in a trap?  
Here's something yet to trust to— (To his sword.  
This was the entry, these the stairs:  
But whether afterwards?  
He that is sure to perish on the land,  
May quit the nicety of Card and Compass:  
And safe, to his discretion▪ put to Sea:  
He shall have my hand to't. Exit.  Enter Raguelin, Orilla, (the waiting-woman. Ra. 
Look:  
By this light 'tis day.  Oril. 
Not by this, by the other 'tis indeed.  Ra. 
Thou art such another piece of temptation.  
My Lord raves by this time,  
A hundred to one the Sentinels  
Will discover us too,  
Then I do pay for night-watch.  Oril. 
Fie upon thee,  
Thou art as fearful as a young colt;  
Boglest at every thing, fool.  
As if Lovers had considered hours: I'll peep in— (she peeps  Ra. 
I am as weary of this wench,  
As if I were married to her:  
She hangs upon me like an Ape upon a horse—  
She's as common too, as a Barber's glass—  
Conscienced too like a Didapper.  Orilla. 
— there's no body within:  
My Lady sleeps this hour at least.  Ra. 
Good, the devil's even with me—  
Not be an honest man neither— Enter Bren. & a guard.  
What course now?  S. 
Nay Sir, we shall order you now.  Bren. 
Dogs.— Enter Fresolin.  Fres'. 
What tumult's this— ha! Brennoralt! 'tis he  
In spite of his disguise: what makes he here?  
he's lost for ever if he be discovered;  
How now companions, why do you use my friend thus?  S. 
Your friend my Lord? if he be your friend  
H'as used us as ill:  
HE has played the Devil amongst us.  
Six of our men are Surgeons work this month;  
We found him climbing the walls.  2 S. 
He had no word neither,  
Nor any language but a blow.  Fres'. 
You will be doing these wild things (my Lord)  
Good faith ye are too blame, if ye had desired  
To view the walls, or Trenches, 't was but  
Speaking; we are not nice:  
I would myself have waited on you:  
Th' are the new outworks you would see perchance.  
Boy, bring me black Tempest round about,  
And the grey Barbary; a Trumpet come along too;  
My Lord, we'll take the nearer way,  
And privater, here through the Sally-Port.  Bre. 
What a Devil is this? sure I dream— Exeunt.  S. 
Now, you are so officious. (Manet Sold.  2 S. 
Death! could I guess he was a friend?  S. 
'Twas ever to be thought,  
How should he come there else?  2 S. 
Friend or no friend, he might have left us  
Something to pay the Surgeon with:  
Grant me that, or I'll beat you to't.— Exeunt.  Enter Fresolin, and Brennoralt. Fres'. 
Brennoralt— start not:  
I pay thee back a life I owe thee;  
And bless my Stars, they gave me power to do't;  
The debt lay heavy on me.  
A horse waits you there— a Trumpet too,  
(Which you may keep, lest he should prate)  
No Ceremony, 'tis dangerous.  Bren. 
Thou hast astonished me:  
Thy youth hath triumphed in one single act,  
O'er all the age can boast; and I will stay  
To tell thee so, were they now firing all  
Their Cannons on me; farewell gallant Fresolin:  
And may reward, great as thy virtue, crown thee.  Exeunt divers ways. Enter Iphigene, Francelia. Fran. 
A peace will come,  
And then you must be gone;  
And whither when you once are got upon the wing,  
You will not stoop to what shall rise,  
Before ye fly to some lure  
With more temptation garnished, is a sad question.  Iph. 
Can you have doubts, and I not my fears?  
By this— the readiest and the sweetest oath, I swear  
I cannot so secure myself of you,  
But in my absence I shall be in pain.  
I have cast up what it will be to stand  
The Governor's anger; and which is more hard,  
The love of Almerin.  
I hold thee now but by thy own free grant,  
A slight security, alas it may fall out,  
Giving thyself, not knowing thine own worth,  
Or want of mine, thou mayst, like Kings deceived,  
Resume the gift on better knowledge back.  Fran. 
If I so easily change, I was not worth your love,  
And by the loss you ' l gain.  Iph. 
But when y'are irrecoverably gone,  
'Twill be slight comfort to persuade myself  
You had a fault, when all that fault must be  
But want of love to me; and that again  
Find in my much defect, so much excuse,  
That it will have no worse name  
Than discretion, if inconcerned do  
Cast it up— I must have more assurance.  Franc. 
You have too much already:  
And sure my Lord you wonder, while I blush,  
At such a growth in young affections.  Iphi▪ 
Why should I wonder (Madam.)  
Love that from two breasts sucks,  
Must of a child quickly become a Giant.  
Dunces in love stay at the Alphabet,  
Th' inspired know all before;— Enter waiting woman.  
And do begin still higher.  Woman. 
Madam;  
Almerin, returned, has sent to kiss  
Your hands. I told him you were busy.  Franc. 
Must I my Lord be busy?  
I may be civil though not kind.  
Tell him I wait him in the Gallery.  Iphi. 
May I not kiss your hand this night? (Whisper)  Franc. 
The world is full of jealous eyes my Lord:  
And were they all locked up; you are a spy  
Once entered in my chamber at strange hours.  Iphi. 
The virtue of Francelia is too safe,  
To need those little arts of preservation.  
Thus to divide ourselves, is to distrust ourselves.  
A Cherubin dispatches not on earth  
Th' affairs of heaven with greater innocence,  
Then I will visit; 'tis but to take a leave,  
I beg.  Franc. 
When you are going my Lord— Exeunt.  Enter Almerin, Morat. Almer. 
Pish. Thou liest, thou liest.  
I know he plays with woman kind, not loves it.  
Thou art impertinent—  Mor. 
'Tis the camp talk my Lord though.  Al. 
The camp's an ass, let me hear no more on't  Exeunt (Talking.) Enter Granivert. Villanor. Marinel. Grani. 
And shall we have peace?  
I am no sooner sober, but the State is so too:  
If't be thy will, a truce for a month only.  
I long to refresh my eyes; by this hand  
They have been so tired with looking upon faces  
Of this country.  Villa. 
And shall the Donazella  
To whom we wish so well-a  
Look Babies again in our eyes-a?  Grani. 
Ah— a sprightly girl above fifteen  
That melts when a man but takes her by the hand!  
Eyes full, and quick; with breath  
Sweet as double violets,  
And wholesome as dying leaves of Strawberries.  
Thick silken eyebrows, high upon the forehead;  
And cheeks mingled with pale streaks of red,  
Such as the blushing morning never wore.—  Villa. 
Oh my chaps; my chaps;  Grani. 
With narrow mouth, small teeth,  
And lips swelling, as if she pouted—  Villa. 
Hold, hold, hold;  Grani. 
Hair curling, and covered, like buds of Marjoram,  
Part tied in negligence  
Part loosely flowing—  Marin. 
Tyrant! tyrant! tyrant!  Grani. 
In pinck colour taffeta petticoat.  
Laced smock-sleeves dangling;  
This vision stolen from her own bed  
And rustling in one's chamber—  Villa. 
Oh good Granivert, good Granivert.  Grani. 
With a wax candle in her hand,  
Looking as if she had lost her way;  
At twelve at night.  Marm. 
Oh any hour, any hour.  Grani. 
Now I think on't, by this hand  
I'll marry, and be long lived.  Villa, 
Long lived? how?  Grain. 
Oh, he that has a Wife, eats with an appetite,  
‛ Has a very good stomach to't first:  
This living at large is very destructive,  
Variety is like rare sauces; provokes too far,  
And draws on surfeits, more than th'other.  Enter Doran. Dor. 
So; is this a time to fool in?  G. 
What's the matter?  Dor. 
Draw out your choice men, and away to  
Your Colonel immediately. There's work  
Towards my boys, there's work.  Grain, 
Art in earnest?  Dor. 
By this light.  Grain. 
There's something in that yet.  
This moiety War  
Twilight,  
Neither night nor day,  
Pox upon it:  
A storm is worth a thousand  
Of your calm;  
There's more variety in it. Exeunt.  Enter Almerin, Francelia, as talking earnestly. Alm. 
Madam, that shows the greatness of my passion.  Fran. 
The imperfection rather: jealousy's  
No better sign of love (my Lord) than fevers are  
Of Life; they show there is a Being, though  
Impaired, and perishing: and that, affection  
But sick and in disorder. I like 't not.  
Your servant.— Exit.  Al. 
So short and sour? the change is visible.  Enter Iphigene. Iph. 
Dear Almerin welcome, ye have been absent long.  Alm. 
Not very long.  Iph. 
To me it hath appeared so;  
What says our Camp? am I not blamed there?  Alm. 
They wonder—  Iph. 
While we smile—  
How have you found the King inclining?  Alm. 
Well.  
The Treaty is not broken, nor holds it.  
Things are where they were;  
'T has a kind of face of peace,  
You my Lord may when you please return.  Iph. 
I Almerin?  Alm. 
Yes my Lord, I'll give you an escape.  Iph. 
'Tis least in my desires.  Alm. 
Hum!  Iph. 
Such prisons are beyond all liberty.  Alm. 
Is't possible?  Iph. 
Seems it strange to you?  Alm. 
No, not at all.  
What? you find the Lady's kind?  Iph. 
Civil— (smiles.  A. 
You make love well too they say (my lord)  Iph. 
Pass my time.  Alm. 
Address unto Francelia?  Iph. 
Visit her.  Al. 
D' you know she is my Mistress, Palatine?  Iph. 
Ha?  Alm. 
D' you know she is my Mistress?  Iph. 
I have been told so.  Alm. 
And do you court her then?  Iph. 
Why?— (smiles.  
If I saw the enemy first,  
Would you not charge?  Alm. 
He does allow it too▪ by Heaven:  
Laughs at me too; thou filcher of a heart,  
False as thy title to Francelia.  
Or as thy friendship: which with this I do— (draws.  
Throw by— draw.  Iph 
What do you mean?  Alm. 
I see the cunning now of all thy love,  
And why thou camest so tamely kind,  
Suffering surprise. Draw.  Iph. 
I will not draw, kill me;  
And I shall have no trouble in my death,  
Knowing 'tis your pleasure:  
As I shall ha' ve no pleasure in my life  
Knowing it is your trouble.  Alm. 
Oh poor— I looked for this.  
I knew the wouldst find 'twas easier to do a wrong  
Then justify it— but—  Iphi. 
I will not fight— hear me:  
If I love you not more, than I love her;  
If I do love her more than for your sake;  
Heaven strangely punish me.  Alm. 
Take heed how thou dost play with heaven.  Iphi. 
By all that's just, and fair, and good,  
By all that you hold dear, and men hold great;  
I never had lascivious thought, or ere  
Did action that might call in doubt my love  
To Almerin.  Alm. 
That tongue can charm me into any thing;  
I do believe't, prithee be wiser then.  
Give me no further cause of jealousy,  
Hurt not mine honour more, and I am well.  Iphi. 
But well— Of all  
Our passions, I wonder nature made  
The worst, foul jealousy, her favourite.  
And if it be not so, why took she care  
That every thing should give the monster Nourishment,  
And left us nothing to destroy it with?  Alm. 
Prithee no more, thou plead'st so cunningly  
I fear I shall be made the guilty  
And need thy pardon.  Iphi. 
If you could read my heart you would.  
I will be gone to morrow if that will satisfy. Indeed  
I shall not rest until my innocence  
Be made as plain as objects to the sense.  Alm. 
— Come;  
You shall not go, I'll think upon't no more.  
" Distrusts ruin not friendship,  
" But build it fairer than it was before—  Exeunt. Enter Brennoralt: Captains, Stratheman: Doran. Bren. 
No more but ten from every company;  
For many hands are thiefs, and rob the glory,  
While they take their share▪ how goes the night?  Stra. 
Half spent my Lord.  
We shall have strait,  
The Moons weaker light.  Bren. 
'Tis time then, call in the officers.  
Friends, if you were men that must be talked  
Into a courage, I had not chosen you;  
Danger with its vizard, oft before this time  
Y'have looked upon▪ and outfaced it too;  
We are to do the trick again, that's all.  
Here— (draws his sword)  
And yet we will not swear:  
For he that shrinks in such an action  
Is damned without the help of perjury.  
Doran; if from the virgin tower thou spiest  
A flame, such as the East sends forth about  
The time the day should break, go tell the King  
I hold the Castle for him; bid him come on  
With all his force, and he shall find a victory  
So cheap 'twill lose the value. If I fall,  
The world has lost a thing it used not well;  
And I, a thing I cared not for; that world.  Stra. 
Led us on Colonel;  
If we do not fight like—  Bren. 
No like.  
we'll be ourselves similitude  
And time shall say, when it would tell  
That men did well, they fought like us.   

ACT. V. SCEN. I.  Enter Agen. Bren. 
WHat made the stop?  
One in's falling sickness had a fit  
Which choked the passage; but all is well:  
Softly, we are near the place. Exeunt.  Alarm within, and fight, then enter Almerin (in his nightgown. Alm. 
What noise is here to night?  
Something on fire— what ho,  
Send to the Virgin-tower, there is disorder—  
Thereabouts. (Ent. Sould.  Sould. 
All's lost, all's lost:  
The enemies upon the place of arms:  
And is by this time Master of that,  
And of the Tower.  Alm. 
Thou liest.— (strikes him.  Enter Morat. Mor. 
Save yourself my Lord, and hast unto the camp;  
Ruin gets in on every side.  Alm. 
There's something in it when this fellow flies.  
Villains my arms, I'll see what Devil reigns.  Enter Iphigene, Francelia. Iphi. 
Look, the day breaks.  Fran. 
You think I'll be so kind, as swear  
It does not now. Indeed I will not—  Iph. 
Will you not send me neither,  
Your picture when ye are gone?  
That when my eye is famished for a look,  
It may have where to feed,  
And to the painted Feast invite my heart.  Fran. 
Here, take this virgin-bracelet of my hair,  
And if like other men thou shalt hereafter  
Throw it with negligence,  
'Mongst the Records of thy weak female conquests,  
Laugh at the kind words, and mystical contrivement.  
If such a time shall come,  
Know I am sighing then thy absence Iphigene,  
And weeping o'er the false but pleasing Image.  Enter Almerin. Alm. 
Francelia, Francelia,  
Rise, rise, and save thyself the enemy  
That does not know thy worth, may else destroy it.  (throws open the door. 
Ha! mine eyes grow sick.  
A plague has, through them, stolen into my heart;  
And I grow dizzy: feet, lead me off again,  
Without the knowledge of my body.  
I shall act I know not what else— Exit.  Franc. 
How came he in?  
Dear Iphigene we are betrayed;  
Le's raise the Castle lest he should return.  Iph. 
That were to make all public.  
Fear not, I'll satisfy his anger:  
I can do it.  Franc. 
Yes, with some quarrel;  
And bring my honour, and my love in danger— Enter Almerin  
Look he returns, and wrecks of fury,  
Like hurried clouds over the face of heaven,  
Before a tempest, in his looks appears.  Alm. 
If they would question what our Rage doth act  
And make it sin, they would not thus provoke men.  
— I am too tame.  
For if they live I shall be pointed at,  
Here I denounce a war to all the world,  
And thus begin it— (runs at Iphigene)  Iphi. 
What hast thou done— (falls)  Franc. 
Ah me, help, help.— (wounds Francelia)  Iphi. 
Hold.  Alm. 
'Tis too late.  Iphi. 
Rather than she shall suffer,  
My fond deceits involve the innocent;  
I will discover all.  Alm. 
Ha!— what will he discover?  Iphi. 
That which shall make thee curse  
The blindness of thy rage.— I am a woman.  Alm. 
Ha, ha, ha, brave and bold!  
Because thy perjury deceived me once,  
And saved thy life, thou thinkest to escape again.  
Impostor, thus thou shalt.— (runs at him.  Iphi. 
Oh hold— I have enough.  
Had I hope of life, thou shouldst not have this secret.  Franc. 
What will it be now?  Iphi. 
— My father having long desired  
A son to heir his great possessions.  
And in six births successively deceived,  
Made a rash vow; oh how rash vows are punished!  
That if the burden than my mother went with  
Proved not a male, he ne'er would know her more.  
Then was unhappy Iphigene brought forth,  
And by the women's kindness named a boy;  
And since so bred: (a cruel pity as  
It hath fallen out.) If now thou findest that, which  
Thou thoughtst a friendship in me, Love; forget it.  
It was my joy,— and— death.— (faints.  Alm. 
— For curiosity  
I'll save thee, if I can, and know the end  
If't be but loss of Blood,— Breasts!  
By all that's good a woman!— Iphigene.  Iphi. 
I thank thee, for I was fall'n asleep, before  
I had dispatched. Sweetest of all thy sex,  
Francelia, forgive me now; my love  
Unto this man, and fear to lose him, taught me,  
A fatal cunning, made me court you,— and  
My own Destruction.  [Franc.] 
I am amazed.  Alm. 
And can it be? Oh mockery of heaven!  
To let me see what my soul often wished  
And make't my punishment, a punishment,  
That were I old in sins, were yet too great.  Iphi. 
Would you have loved me then? Pray say you would:  
For I like testy sick-men at their death,  
Would know no news but health from the Physician.  Alm. 
Canst thou doubt that?  
That hast so often seen me ecstasied,  
When thou wert dressed like woman  
Unwilling ever to believe thee man?  Iph. 
I have enough.  Alm. 
Heavens!  
What thing shall I appear unto the world!  
Here might my ignorance find some excuse.  
— But, there,  
I was distracted. None but one enraged  
With anger to a savadgenesse, would ere  
Have drawn a sword upon such gentle sweetness.  
Be kind, and kill me; kill me one of you:  
Kill me if 't be but to preserve my wits.  
Dear Iphigene, take thy revenge, it will  
Not misbecome thy sex at all; for 'tis  
An act of pity not of cruelty:  
Thus to dispatch a miserable man.  Franc. 
And thou wouldst be more miserable yet,  
While like a Bird made prisoner by itself,  
Thou bat'st and beatest thyself 'gainst every thing,  
And dost pass by, that which should let thee out.  Alm. 
— Is it my fault?  
Or heavens? Fortune, when she would play upon me,  
Like ill Musicians, wound me up so high,  
That I must crack sooner than move in tune.  Franc. 
Still you rave,  
While we for want of present help may perish.  Alm. 
Right.  
A Surgeon, I'll go find one instantly.  
The enemy too— I had forgot—  
Oh what fatality governed this night.  Exit. Franc. 
How like an unthrifts case will mine be now?  
For all the wealth he loses shifts but is place;  
And still the world enjoys it: so will't you,  
Sweet Iphigene, though I possess you not.  Iphi. 
What excellence of Nature's this! have you  
So perfectly forgiven already, as to  
Consider me a loss? I doubt which Sex  
I shall be happier in. Climates of Friendship  
Are not less pleasant, 'cause they are less scorching,  
Then those of Love; and under them we'll live:  
Such precious links of that we'll tie our souls  
Together with, that the chains of the other.  
Shall be gross fetters to it.  [Franc.] 
But I fear  
I cannot stay the making. Oh would you  
Had never undeceived me, for I'had died with  
Pleasure, believing I had been your Martyr.  
Now—  Iphi. 
She looks pale. Francelia—  Franc. 
— I cannot stay;  
A hasty summons hurries me away:  
And— gives— no— (dies)  Iphi. 
— she's gone:  
she's gone. Life like a Dial's hand hath stolen A voyse within. Enter soldiers. She thinks them Almer.  
From the fair figure ere it was perceived.  
What will become of me?— Too late, too late  
YE are come: you may persuade wild birds, that wing  
The air, into a Cage, as soon as call  
Her wand'ring spirits back.— ha!  
Those are strange faces; there's a horror in them:  
And if I stay, I shall be taken for  
The murderer. O in what straits they move  
That wander 'twixt death, fears and hopes of love.  Exit. Enter Brennoralt. Granivert. Soldiers. Bren. 
Forbear, upon your lives, the place:  
There dwells divinity within it. All else  
The Castle holds, is lawful prize;  
Your valour's wages. This I claim as mine,  
Guard you the door—  Grani. 
Colonel shall you use all the women yourself?  Bren. 
Away— 'tis unseasonable— (draws the curtain)  
Awake fair Saint and bless thy poor Idolater  
Ha!— pale?— and cold?— dead.  
The sweetest guest fled, murdered by heaven;  
The purple streams not dry yet.  
Some villain has broke in before me,  
Robbed all my hopes; but I will find him out,  
And kick his soul to hell— I'll do 't— draging out Iphigene.  
Speak.  Iphi. 
What should I say?  Bren. 
Speak or by all—  Iph. 
Alas, I do confess myself the unfortunate cause.  Bren. 
Oh d' you so?  
Hadst thou been cause of all the plagues  
That vex mankind, th' add'st been an Innocent  
To what thou art; thou shalt not think repentance. (kills her.  Iph. 
Oh, thou wert too sudden.  
And— (dies.  Bren. 
Was I so?  
The lustful youth would sure have spoiled her honour;  
Which finding highly guarded, rage, and fear  
To be revealed, counselled this villainy.  
Is there no more of them? Exit.  Enter Almerin. Alm. 
Not enter?  
Yes dog, through thee— ha! a course laid out  
In stead of Iphigene: Francelia dead too?— (Enter Bren.  
Where shall I begin to curse?  Bren. 
Here— If he were thy friend.  Alm. 
Brennoralt;  
A gallant sword could ne'er have come  
In better time.  Bren. 
I have a good one for thee,  
If that will serve the turn.  Alm. 
I long to try it,  
That sight doth make me desperate;  
Sick of myself and the world.  Bren. 
Didst value him?  
A greater villain did I never kill.  Alm. 
Kill?  Bren. 
Yes.  Alm. 
Art sure of it?  Bren. 
May be I do not wake.  Alm. 
The hast taken then a guilt off from me,  
Would have weighed down my sword,  
Weakened me to low resistance.  
I should have made no sports, hadst thou concealed it.  
Know Brennoralt thy sword is stained in excellence,  
Great as the world could boast.—  Bren. 
Ha— ha— how thou art abused?  
Look there, there lies the excellence  
Thou speakest of, murdered; by him too;  
He did confess he was the cause.  Alm. 
Oh Innocence, ill understood, and much worse used!  
She was alas by accident, but I,  
I was the cause indeed  Bre. 
I will believe thee too, and kill thee—  
Destroy all causes till I make a stop  
In nature; for to what purpose should she  
Work again?  Alm. 
Bravely then,  
The title of a Kingdom is a trifle  
To our quarrel Sir; know by sad mistake  
I killed thy Mistress Brennoralt,  
And thou kill'dst mine.  Bren. 
Thine?  Alm. 
Yes, that Iphigene  
Though shown as man unto the world,  
Was woman, excellent woman—  Bren. 
I understand no riddles guard thee.— Fight and pause.  Alm. 
O could they now look down,  
And see how we two strive  
Which first should give revenge,  
They would forgive us something of the crime.  
Hold prithee give me leave  
To satisfy a curiosity—  
I never kissed my Iphigene as woman.  Bren. 
Thou motion'st well, nor have I taken leave (Rising.  
It keeps a sweetness yet—  
As stills from Roses, when the flowers are gone.  Alm. 
Even so have two faint Pilgrims scorched with heat  
Unto some neighbour fountain stepped aside  
Kneeled first, than laid their warm lips to the Nymph  
And from her coldness took fresh life again  
As we do now—  Bren. 
Le's on our journey if thou art refreshed.  Alm. 
Come and if there be a place reserved  
For heightened spirits better than other,  
May that which wearies first of ours have it. Fight agood while Alm. falls.  Bren. 
If I grow weary, laugh at me, that's all▪  Alm. 
— Brave souls above which will  
Be (sure) inquisitive for news from earth  
Shall get no other but that thou art Brave.  Enter King: Stratheman: Lords: Minse. Stra. 
To preserve some Ladies as we guest.  King. 
Still gallant, Brennoralt, thy sword not sheathed yet?  
Busy still?—  Bren. 
Revenging Sir  
The foulest murder ever blasted ears  
Committed here by Almerin and Iphigene.  Alm. 
False, false; The first created purity  
Was not more innocent than Iphigene.  Bren. 
Lives he again?  Alm. 
Stay thou much wearied guest  
Till I have thrown a truth amongst them—  
We shall look back else to posterity.  King. 
What says he?  Lord. 
Some thing concerning this he labours to  
Discover.  Alm. 
Know it was I that killed Francelia?  
I alone—  Mins. 
O barbarous return of my civilities  
Was it thy hand?  Alm. 
Hear and forgive me Minse  
Entering this morning hastily  
With resolution to preserve  
The fair Francelia. I found a thief  
Stealing the treasure (as I thought)  
Belonged to me. Wild in my mind  
As ruined in my honour, in much mistaken rage  
I wounded both: then (oh) too late I found  
My error. Found Iphigene a woman  
Acting stolen love, to make her own love safe  
And all my jealousies impossible  
Whilst I ran out to bring them cure;  
Francelia dies; and Iphigene found here  
I can no more— (dies)  King. 
Most strange and intricate.  
Iphigene a woman?  Mel. 
With this story I am guiltily acquainted  
The first concealments, since her love  
And all the ways to it I have been trusted with:  
But Sir my grief joined with the instant business  
Begs a deferrement.  King. 
I am amazed till I do hear it out.  
— But i'th' mean time,  
Lest in these mists merit should lose itself,  
— Those forfeitures  
Of Trock and Menseck and Brennoralt are thine.  Bren. 
A Princely guilt! But Sir it comes too late.  
Like Sunbeams on the blasted blossoms, do  
Your favours fall: you should have given me this  
When't might have raised me in men's thoughts, and made  
Me equal to Francelia's love: I have  
No end, since she is not—  
Back, to my private life I will return.  
" Cattell, though weary, can trudge homewards, after.  King. 
This melancholy, time must cure: Come take  
The bodies up, and lead the prisoners on,  
Triumph and funerals must walk together,  
Cypress and Laurel twined make up one chaplet.  
— For we have got  
The day; but bought it at so dear a rate,  
That victory itself unfortunate.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.