St. Patrick for Ireland. The first part. Written by Iames Shirley

St. Patrick for Ireland. The first part. Written by Iames Shirley

Table of contents

Title page

The Prologue.

The names of the Actors.

Act. I.

ACT. II.

ACT. III.

ACT. IV.

ACT. V.

The Epilogue.

§

§

[Page]

St. PATRICK FOR IRELAND. The first Part.

Written by James Shirley.

LONDON, Printed by J. Raworth, for R. Whitaker. 1640.

The Prologue.

[Page]

[Page]

WE know not what will take, your pallats are

Various, and many of them sick I feare:

We can but serve up what our Poets dresse,

And not considering cost, or paines to please▪

We should be very happy, if at last,

We could find out the humour of your taste,

That we might fit, and feast it, so that you

Were constant to your selves, and kept that true▪

For some have their opinions so displeas'd,

They come not with a purpose to be pleas'd:

Or like some birds that leave the flowry fields,

They only stoop at that corruption yeilds.

It were a custome would lesse staine the times,

To praise the vertues, when you chide the crimes.

This is but cold encouragement, but we

Hope here are few of those, or if there be,

We wish 'em not infectious, nor confine

We censures; woo'd each soule were masculine:

For your owne sakes we wish all here to day,

Knew but the art and labour of a Play;

Then you would value the true Muses paine,

The throwes and travell of a teeming braine.

But we have no despaire, that all here may

Be friends, and come with candor to this Play.

St. Patrick whose large story cannot be

Bound in the limits of one Play, if ye

First welcome this, you'll grace our Poets art,

And give him Courage for a second part.

The names of the Actors.

[Page]

[...]eogarius, Monarch of Ireland.▪

his Sons.

[...]orybreus,

[...]onallus

Dichu, A Noble-man.

his Sons.

[...]erochus,

[...]ndarius,

Milcho, A great Officer.

Archimagus, The chife Priest, a Magitian.

Two other Priests.

St. Patrick.

Victor, his Angell-Guardian.

Bards.

Rodamant, Archimagus Servant.

Souldiers.

Angels.

Religious men.

Servants.

Queene.

her Daughters.

Ethne,

Fedella,

Emeria, Milcho's Daughter.

Act. I.

[Page]

Enter Archimagus, and two other Magitians, at severall doores.

1.

WE are undone.

2.

We are lost.

Ar.

Not so, your feares

Become you not, great Priests of Jove and S aturn;

Shall we that a we the furies, at whose charme

Hell itselfe quakes, be frighted with a shadow,

A tame, a naked Church-man and his tribe

Of austere starved faces? no, this Kingdome

Shall still be ours, and flourish, every Altar

Breathe incense to our gods, and shine with flames,

To strike this Christian blinde.

1.

This is but ayre▪

He is now landing, every tread he prints

Upon this earth, will make it grone.

Ar.

Are not

The havens strengthned by the Kings command

With souldiers, to watch that none arrive

With this suspition.

2

But we that can

Command armies from hell for our designe,

[Page]And blast him, now stand idle, and benumm'd,

And shall grow here ridiculous statues, I'le

Muster my friends.

1.

And if I ha'not lost

My power, the Spirits shall obey to drowne

This stragler, and secure this threatned Island.

Ar.

Stay, which of you can boast more power than I?

For every Spirit you command, my spells

Can raise a legion; you know I can

Untennant hell, dispeople the wide ayre,

Where like innumerous atomes the blacke genij

Hover, and nistle one another, all

That haunt the woods and waters, all i'th darke

And solitary chambers of the earth,

Breake through their Adamantine chaines, and fly

Like Lightning to my will, and shall your factious

And petty correspondence with the fiends,

Attempt this worke without my voice and counsell?

Who brought you first acquainted with the divell?

Did not my Art?

1

We are disciples to

The Great Archimagus.

2.

We acknowledge all

Our Art deriv'd from you.

1.

But in this justice to our gods, we hope

Our gods chiefe Priest will give us leave—

Ar.

Yes, and confirme it, and applaud your zeales,

My fellowes both in sacred Arts and Priesthood.

Go on, I praise your resolution:

My Spirit gave intelligence before

Of his approach, and by all circumstance,

Our prophesie doth point this Christian Priest

The blacke subversion of our Isle, but we

Like masters of all destiny, will breake

His fate, and bruise him in his Infancy

Of danger to this Kingdome, fly and be

[Page]'Arm'd to your wishes; Spirits shall attend you,

And the whole power of hell.

Exeunt Magitians.

This newes affrights me,

How e're I seem to swell with confidence,

This is the man, and this the revolution,

Fixt for the change of sacrifice foretold,

And threatned in this fatall prophesie.

A man shall come into this Land,

With shaven Crowne, and in his hand

A crooked Staffe, he shall command,

And in the East his table stand;

From his warme lips a streame shall flow▪

To make rockes melt, and Churches grow,

Where while be sings, our gods shall bow,

And all our kings his law allow.

He reades

This, this is the vexation.

Enter Endarius.

End.

Sir, the King.

Ar.

What of the King?

End.

Is troubled, sicke, distracted.

Ar.

How?

End.

With a dreame; he has no peace within him;

You must with all haste visit him, we shall

Suspect his death else.

Enter Ferochus.

Fer.

Mighty Priest, as you

Respect the safety of the King, you must

Make haste, the Court is up in armes, and he

Calls for his sword.

Ar.

You fright me gentlemen:

Rebellion in the Court, who are the Traytors?

Fer.

His owne wilde thoughts, and apprehension

Of what, he sayes, was in his sleepe presented,

He calls upon his Guard, and railes upon 'em,

When they appeare with no more armes, and swearos

That every man shall weare a Tun of Iron.

[Page]End.

The Prince▪

Enter Conallus.

Con.

The King impatient of your absence, Sir,

Hath left the Court, and by some few attended

Is coming hither, laden with feare and weapons;

He talks of strange things in his dreame, and frights

Our eares with an invasion, that his Crowne

Sits trembling on his head, unlesse your wisdome

Cleare his dark feares, we are undone.

Arc.

He's here.

Enter King Leogarius, Corybreus Dichu.

How fares the King?

Leo.

Deare Archimagus,

We want thy skill to interpret a black dreame

I had last night, my fancie is still sick on't,

And with the very apprehension

I feele much of my soule dissolve, and through

My frighted pores, creep from me in a sweat:

I shall have nothing in me but a bath,

Vnlesse thou do repaire my languishing essence

With thy great art and counsell.

Arc.

Give me, Sir,

The particular of your dreame.

Leo.

They must not heare it,

Yet stay; the Ecclipse, if it be any thing,

Is universall, aad doth darken all.

Me thought, Archimagus, as I was praying

I'th' Temple neere the se [...], my Queene, my Sons,

Daughters, and Traine of my Nobilitie

Prostrate before the Altar, on the sudden

The roofe did open, and from Heaven a flame

Descending on the images of our gods,

Began to burne the sacred browes, from which

Many deformed worms, and hideous serpents

Come crawling forth, and leap'd unto our throats,

Where, with their horrid circles and embrace,

We were almost strangled [...] in this fright, me thought▪

[Page]We fled out of the Temple, and as soone

We saw a pale man coming from the sea,

Attended by a Tribe of reverend men,

At whose approach the Serpents all unchain'd

Themselves, and leaving our imprison'd necks,

Crept into the earth, straight all that were with me,

As I had been the prodigie, forsooke me,

My wife, my children, Lords, my servants all,

And sled to this pale man, who told me, I

Must submit too, humble my selfe to him,

This wither'd peece of man: at which, my-thought,

I felt a trembling shoot through every part,

And with the horror, thus to be depos'd,

I waken'd. Now, Archimagus, thy Art

To cure thy soule-sick King.

Arc.

'Tis done already.

Leo.

How, my deare Priest?

Arc.

This pale thing shall not trouble you,

He that so long was threatned to destroy

Vs and our Gods, is come.

Leo.

Ha▪ where?

Arc.

Now landing:

But were the coasts unguarded, he wants power

To fight with those aetheriall troops, that wait

Vpon the Gods we serve▪ H [...] is now dying,

This minute they have blasted him: and they,

Above the speed of wings, are slying hither

With the glad newes, be calme agen, and let not

These airy dreames distract your peace.

Leo.

They are vanish'd

Already at thy voyce, thou (next our Gods

The hope of this great I [...]and) hast disperst

All clouds, and made it a faire skie againe,

My learned Archimagus.

Enter Spirits.

1.

He is come.

2.

He's come.

[Page]3.

And we must flye.

Leo.

What voyces make the aire

So sad?

Cor.

They strike a horror▪

Con.

They are Spirits.

Arc.

I command once more to oppose him.

1.

In vaine, great Priest.

2.

We must away.

3.

Away.

Omnes.

We cannot, dare not stay.

Exeunt.

Enter, Angell Victor, bearing a banner with a crosse, St. Patrick and other Priests in procession singing.

Leo.

What harmony is this? I have no power

To do them harme, observe their ceremonie.

Ode.

Post maris s [...]vi fremitus Iernae

(Navitas coelo tremulos beante)

Uidimus gratum jubar enatantes

littus inaurans

Montium quin vos juga, vosque sylv [...]

Nunc salutamus, chorus advenarum

Jubilum retrò modulantur, Ecce

Carbasa ventis

Dulce supremo melòs occinanus

Carminum flagrans Domino litamen

Cujus erranti dabitur popello

Numine sacr [...]m.

Leo.

I'll speake to him. Stay, you that have presum'd

Without our leave, to print your desperate foot

Vpon our Countrey; say, what bold designe

Hath arm'd you with this insolent noyse, to dare

And fright the holy peace of this faire Ile;

Nay, in contempt of all our gods, advance

[Page]Your songs in honour of an unknowne power?

The King commands you speake.

Patr.

Vnto that title

Thus we all bow; it speakes you are alli'd

To Heaven, great Sir, we come not to distract

Your peace, looke on your number, we bring no

Signes of sterne war, no invasive force to draw

Feare, or suspition, or your frownes upon us:

A handfull of poore naked men we are,

Throwne on your Coast, whose armes are only prayer,

That you would not be more unmercifull

Than the rough seas, since they have let us live

To finde your charitie.

Leo.

Whence are you?

Patr.

We are of Britaine, Sir.

Leo.

Your name, that answer for the rest so boldly?

Patr.

My name is Patrick, who with these poore men

Beseech you would permit.

Leo.

No dwelling here▪

And therefore quit this Kingdome speedily,

Or you shall curse you saw the land.

Dic.

Are they not Spies?

Arc.

A whirlewind snatch'em hence, and on the back

Of his black wings transport these fugitives,

And drop their cursed-heads into the sea,

Or land'em in some cold remotest▪ wildernesse

Of all the world, they must not here inhabit.

Dic.

Hence, or we'll force you with these go [...]ds.

Cor.

Vnlesse

You have a mind to try how well your hoods

Can swim, go trudge back to your rotten bark,

And steere another course.

Fer.

You will finde Ilands

Peopled with Squirrils, Rate, and Crowes, and [...],

Where you may better plant, my reverend Moles.

End.

Faces about.

[Page]Pat.

You are inhospitable,

And have more flintie bosomes than the rocks

That bind your shores, and circle your faire Iland▪

But I must not returne.

Leo.

How?

Arc.

How?

Pat.

Till I haue

Perform'd my dutie: Know great King, I have

Commission for my stay, I came not hither

Without command, Legat from him, before

Whose angry breath the rocks doe breake and thaw;

To whose nod the mountaines humble their proud heads,

The earth, the water, aire and heaven is his,

And all the stars that shine with evening flames,

Shew but their trembling when they wait on him:

This supreme Kings command I have obey'd,

Who sent me hither to bring you to him,

And this still wandring nation, to those springs

Where soules are everlastingly refresh'd;

Vnto those gardens, whose immortall flowers

Staine your imagin'd shades, and blest abodes.

Leo.

What place is this?

Pat.

Heaven; now a great way off▪

But not accessible to those permit

Their pretious soules be strangled thus with mists,

And false opinion of their gods.

Arc.

No more.

Pat.

I must say more in my great Masters cause,

And tell you in my dreames, he hath made me heare

From the dark wombs of mothers, prison'd infants

Confessing how their parents are mis-led,

And calling me thus far to be their freedome▪

Have pitie on your selves, be men, and let not

A blind devotion to your painted gods.—

Dic.

He does blaspheme. Accept me, Jove, thy Priest,

And this my sacrifice. Ha, mine armes grow stiffe,

[Page]I feele an ice creeping through all my bloud▪

There's winter in my heart, I change o'th' sudden

Am growne a statue, every limb is marble;

Yee gods take pitie on me, in your cause

I wither thus; Jove, if thou hast a lightning,

Bestow some here, and warme me.

Cor.

Strange!

End.

Father! Brother, if he should dye now?

Fer.

I am his eldest son, he shall find me reasonable,

He may doe worse, considering how long I have been of age.

Dic.

No power let fall compassion. I have

Offended. Whom? I know not, this good man

Forgive, and if the Deitie thou serv'st

Can put a life into this frozen pile,

Pray for me.

Leo.

Villaine, wouldst thou owe thy life

To the mercie of the power he serves,

Arc.

Wish rather

To rot for ever thus.

Leo.

And if thou diest,

I'll build a Temple here, and in this posture

Kings shall kneele to thee, and on solemne dayes

Present their crownes; Queenes shall compose thee garlands,

Virgins shall [...]ing thy name, and 'bout thy neck

And armes disperse the riches of their Art,

Next to our Gods we honour thee: keep from

The Impostor.

Cor.

I have no meaning to come neere him.

Pat.

Give me thy hand: now move, and may thy heart

Find softnesse too, this mercie is the least

Of my great Masters treasures.

Dic.

I feele my heat

Return'd, and all my rockie parts grow supple,

Let the first use I make of their restore, be

To bend my knees to you.

Pat.

Bow them to him

[Page]That gave me power to helpe thee.

Fer.

He is well agen.

Dic.

I finde a beame let into my darke soule,

Oh take me to your faith, here I give backe

My selfe to serve your god.

Leo.

Traitrous to heaven!

Come from him.

Dic.

Bid my haste forsake a blessing.

End.

Father.

Dic.

Call this good man your father, Boyes.

Arc.

H 's mad, and I am frantick at this base

Apostasie. My Lord think how you may

Provoke our gods, and the King anger.

Pat.

Feare

His wrath that made, and can let fall the world.

Fer.

He may yet do me as great a curtesie

As dying comes too, if his error hold,

And the Kings anger.

Leo.

Dotard,

Returne; and prostrate to the gods we worship,

Or though his witchcraft now protect thy selfe,

Thy sonnes shall bleed.

Fer.

How's that?

Leo.

To satisfie

The gods and us, with the next mornings Sunne,

Unlesse thou rise, and sacrifice to our Altars,

Downe from that Rocke which over lookes the Sea,

They shall be throwlie; my vow is fixt.

Fer.

Deare father.

Leo.

Take them away, their fate depends on him.

Dic.

Oh, I am lost.

Pat.

Thou art found.

Dic.

Forsake me not, poore boyes! my prayers and blessing.

Pat.

Set forward now in heavens name,

And finish our procession.

Exeunt.

Leo.

Death pursue 'em,

[Page]Will nothing make them feele our wrath.

Co.

The charme

Will not last alwayes.

Arc.

I heir fate is not yet ripe,

Be not dejected, Sir, the gods cannot

Be patient long. Meane time let me advise,

Not by your Lawes, or other open force,

To persecute'em; but disguise your anger.

Leo.

Ha?

Arc.

What matter is't, so we destroy these wretches

What wayes we take? invite him to your Court,

Pretend, I know not what desires, to heare

More of his faith, that you find turnes within

Your heart, and tremble at the miracle

Wrought upon Dichu; when he's in your possession

A thousand stratagems may be thought upon

To send his giddy soule most quaintly off to

That fine phantasticall reward he dreames on

I'th't'other world.

Leo.

Thou hast pleas'd us, Archimagus.

Cor.

Great Ceanerachius has inspir'd the Priest!

This is the only way.

Con.

I doe not like it.

Leo.

It shall be so, he shall be thus invited,

And we will meet him with our Queene and Daughters,

Who shall compose themselves to entertaine him.

Arc.

Leave me to instruct my princely charge, your Daughters,

Leo.

Be still their blest Director, to thy charge

We gave them up long since, but do not tell 'em

What happen'd to the Apostate Dichu; women

Have soluble and easie hearts, that accident

May startle their religion, keep 'em firme

In the devotion to our gods, whose virgins

We hope to call them shortly, if their zeale

Maintaine that holy flame that yet hath fill'd

Their bosomes.

[Page]Arc.

They are the Darlings of the Temple.

Leo.

Conallus, you shall be the messenger,

And beare our invitation.

Arc.

Trouble not

The Prince, impose that businesse on my care.

Leo.

Be it so.

Con.

I am glad I am off the employment.

Leo.

All wayes to serve our gods are free, and good,

When shed for them, they take delight in blood.

Exeunt▪

ACT. II.

Enter Ethne and Fedella, dancing.

Eth.

I am weary, and yet I would have more, my heart

Was never more dispos'd to mirth, Fedella.

Fed.

Mine is as light as yours, Sister, I am

All aire, me thinks.

Eth.

And I all mounting fire.

Fed.

'Tis well we are alone.

Eth.

'Tis ill we are;

This heat our servants should have given us:

Fed.

I wonder we cannot see 'em, they were not

Since we first tooke them to our favor, guiltie

Of such neglect.

Eth.

You wrong our birth and bloud,

To thinke they dare neglect us, for if they

Forget what we deserve in loving them▪

They owe more dutie, as we are the Kings

Daughters, than to displease us so.

Fed.

That binds:

But forme and heartlesse ceremony, Sister▪

By your favor, I had rather hold my servant

By his owne love, that chaines his heart to mine,

Than all the bands of state.

[Page]Eth.

I am of thy mind too, wo'd they were here,

I shall be sad againe; fie, what a thing 'tis

For two Ladies to be in love, and alone without

A man so long.

Enter Rodamant.

Fed.

Here's one.

Eth.

A foolish one, our Governors servant,

How now Rodamant?

Rod.

Keep off.

Fed.

What, is the fellow conjuring?

Rod.

I wo'd, but I cannot read these devillish names.

Eth.

How long hast thou serv'd Archimagus?

Rod.

Long enough to have had a Devill of mine owne, if hee had pleas'd, I have drudg'd under him almost these seven yeeres, in hope to learne the trade of Magick, and none of his spirits will obey me; would I were a witch, then I should have a Familiar, a sucking Devill, upon occasion to doe me service.

Fed.

A Devill?

Rod.

Oh, I lov'd him of a child.

Eth.

What wouldst thou do with the Devill?

Rod.

Only exercise my body, take the aire now and then over steeples, and saile once a month to Scotland in a sieve▪ to see my Freinds. I have a granam there, if I had been rul'd, would not have seen me wanted a divell at these yeers, pray Madam speak to my Master for me, that my freinds may not laugh at me, when I come out of my time, he has spirits enough, I desire none of his grand [...]s, a little Don Di [...]go Diabolo would serve my turne, if he have but skill in Love or Physicke.

Fed.

Physick for what? art sick?

Rod.

I am not sick, but I am troubled with a desperate consumption.

Eth.

How?

Fed.

Why that's nothing.

Rod.

To you that are great Ladies, and fed high

But to a man that is kept lean and hungry

A little falling of the flesh is seen.

Eth.

I heard thee name love, prethee art thou in love?

[Page]Rod.

In love? look on my sore eyes.

Eth.

They are well enough, and thou canst see.

Rod.

Yes, I can see a little with em, would they were out.

Eth.

How? out?

Rod.

Out of their paine. I have but seaven teeth and a halfe, and foure on em are rotten, here's a stump, a pickax cannot dig out of my gummes.

Fed.

Are these signes of love?

Rod.

Oh infallible. Beside, I cannot sleep

For dreaming a my Mistresse.

Eth.

So, and whats her name?

Rod.

You shall pardon me, she is—

Eth.

A man or a woman.

Rod.

Nay she is a woman, as sure, as sure as you are the Queens daughters. I name no body; do not you say 'tis the Queen, I am what I am, and she is what she is.

Eth.

Well said.

Rod.

And if I live, I will dy for her, but I forget my self, I had a message to tell you; first my Master commends him to your Graces and will be here presently: secondly I have news, Do you know what I meane?

Fed.

Not we.

Rod.

Why then, my Lord Ferocbus, and his brother

Endarius, you know em?

Eth.

What of them?

Rod.

And they know you.

Fed.

To the purpose.

Rod.

I know not that, but they are

Eth.

What?

Rod.

Not made for wormes meat.

Fed.

What meanes the fellow?

Rod.

The King has commanded, they shall be throwne from a rock into the sea, thats all, but here's my Master can tell you the whole story.

Exit.

Eth.

What said the scritchowle

Enter Archimagus

Fed.

We hope Archimagus brings better newes.

[Page]And yet his face is cast into a forme of sorrow.

What are these?

Arc.

Read, and collect your noble forces up,

You will be lost else, alas poore Ladies,

How soon their blood is frighted?

Eth.

Every character

Gives my poor heart a wound.

Fed.

Alas, how much of mischief is contain'd

In this poore narrow paper.

Eth.

Can this be?

Arc.

Madam too true, the anger of the King

Is heavy and inevitable, you may

Beleeve what their sad pens have bled to you;

They have no hope, not once before they die

To see your blessed eyes, and take their leave,

And weep into your bosome, their last farewell.

Fed.

They must not, sha' not die so.

Arc.

They must Madam.

Eth.

I will die with 'em too then: Sister shall

They leave the world without our company?

Fed.

Could not you bend the King our cruell father?

You should have said, we lov'd them; you have most

Power to prevaile with him; you should have told him,

The gods would be offended, and revenge their death

With some strange curse upon this Iland.

Eth.

You knew our loves, and all our meetings Sir,

They were not without you, nor will we live

Without them, tell our father. Did our hearts

Flatter themselves with mirth, to be struck dead

With this, this murdering newes. I'll to the King.

Arc.

Stay, and containe your selves, your loves are brave,

Nor shall your flame die thus; as I was first

Of counsell with your thoughts, I will preserve 'em:

They sha'not die, if my braine leave me not.

Fed.

Oh, I could dwell upon his lips to thank him.

Arc.

But they must then be banish'd.

Eth.

That's death.

[Page]Unlesse we go along to exile with 'em.

Ar.

I have the way, they shall deceive the sentence

Of the enraged King, and live; nor shall

This be reward of your affections;

You shall converse more often, and more freely

Than ever, if you dare be wise and secret.

Fc.

You make us happy.

Arc.

Here's your elder brother,

Away and trust to me.

Enter Coribreus.

Cor.

Health to our Priest.

Arc.

And to your Highnesse.

Enter Emeria and Conallu [...].

Do you see that couple?

Cor.

My brother and the faire Emeria, Milcho's daughter,

Out of their way; but so, to reach their voice,

This place o'th'Garden's apt.

Arc.

Observe 'em.

Em.

But will you not, my Lord, repent to have plac'd

Your love so much unworthily.

Con.

Oh never.

My best Emeria, thou hast a wealth

In thy owne vertue, above all the world;

Be constant, and I'm blest.

Em.

This hand and heaven

Be witnesse where my heart goes.

Cor.

If my fate

Cannot enjoy thy love, I shall grieve both

Your destinies.

Arc.

Be confident you shall

Enjoy her, if you'll follow my directions.

Cor.

Thou art my genius, but she's very holy,

And, I feare, too religious to her vowes,

She is devoted much to Ceanerachius, head of the gods.

Arc.

Sir her piety

Prepares your conquest, as I'le manage things,

I wonot trust the ayre too much.

Con.

This kisse and all's confirm'd.

[Page]Em.

Pray my Lord use

My poore heart kindly, for you take it with you.

Con.

I leave mine in exchange.

Exit.

Arc.

He is gone, advance

To your Mistris, and if you want art to move her,

I shannot sir, to make you prosper, tis

Firmely design'd, when we meet next, you shall

Know more.

Exit.

Cori.

How now my fair Emeria.

Em.

I do beseech your highnesse pardon,

I did think I was alone.

Cori.

Alone you are

In beauty sweet Emeria, and all

The graces of your sex.

Em.

You are too great to flatter me,

And yet this language comes

So neer the wickednesse of court praise, I dare not

With modesty imagine your heart means so.

Cori.

Yet in this garden, when you seem'd most solitary,

Madam, you had many fair, and sweet companions.

Em.

Not I sir.

Cori.

Yes, and my rivalls too Emeria,

And now they court thy beauty in my presence

Proud erring things of nature, dost not see

As thou dost move, how every amorous plant

Doth how his leavy head, and becken thee;

The winde doth practise dalliance with thy hairs

And weave a thousand pretty netts within

To catch it self.

That violet droop'd but now,

How tis exalted at thy smile, and spreads

A virgin bosome to thee. There's a rose

Would have slept still within his bud, but at

Thy presence, it doth open his thin curtains

And with warm apprehension looking forth

Betrayes her love in blushes. And that Woodbin [...]

[Page]As it would be divorc'd from the Sweet-bryer,

Courts thee to an embrace. It is not dew

That like so many pearls embroider all

The flowers, but teares of their complaint, with feare

To loose thee, from whose eye they take in all

That makes them beautifull, and with humble necks

Pay duty unto thee their onely spring.

Em.

Your Grace is courtly.

Cor.

When these dull vegetalls

Shew their ambition to be thine Emeria,

How much should we, that have an actiue soule

To know and value thee, be taken with

This beauty? yet if you dare trust me Madam,

There's none, within the throng of thy admirers,

More willing, more devote to be thy servant

Then Coribreus.

Em.

I must ag [...]n beseech

Your pardon, and declare my self most ignorant:

Pray speak your meaning in a dialect

I vnderstand.

Cor.

Why, I do love you Madam.

Em.

If this be it, I dare not sir beleeve

You condescend so low to love Emeria,

A worthlesse thing.

Cor.

Why not? I love you Madam.

If there be difference of our birth or state,

When we are compa [...]'d, it should make me the first

In your fair thoughts: come, you must love agen,

And meet me with an equall active flame.

Em.

I am more skil'd in dutie sir, then love.

Cor.

You would be coy, your heart is not bestow'd.

Em.

Indeed it is.

Cor.

On whom?

Em.

I must not name.

Cor.

Were he my brother did twist heart with thine,

That act should make him strange to my blood,

[Page]And I would cut him from his bold embraces.

Em.

Alas, I feare.

Cor.

I know you will be wise

And just to my desires Emeria,

When you shall see my love bid fairest for you,

And that presented from a Prince, who knowes

No equall here. Come, I already promise

My self possest of those faire eyes, in which

I gazing thus, at every search discover

New crystall heavens, those tempting cheekes are mine,

A garden with fresh flowers all the winter;

Those lips invite to print my soul upon 'em

Or loose it in thy breath, which I'le convey

Downe to my heart, and wish no other spirit,

As loth to change it for my owne agen.

How in thy bosome will I dwell Emeria,

And tell the azure winding of thy veins

That flow, yet climbe those soft, and ivory hills

Whose smooth descent leads to a blisse, that may

Be known, but puzzle art and tongue to speak it.

I prethee do not use this froward motion,

I must and will be thine.

Em.

Be your own sir,

And do not thus afflict my innocence,

Had you the power of all the world, and man,

You could not force my will, which you have frighted

More from you then my duty, although powerfull,

Can call agen; you are not modest sir,

Indeed I feare you are not, I must leave you,

Better desires attend your Grace and me.

Exit

Cor.

This wo'not gain her, her heart's fixt upon

My brother, all my hope is in Archimagus,

She is a frozen thing, yet she may melt.

If their disdain should make a man despaire,

Nature mistook in making woman faire.

Exit

[Page]An altar discovered, two Idolls upon it, Archimagus and priests, lights and incense prepar'd by Rodomant.

Ro.

These be new Dieties, made since yesterday,

We shift our gods, as fast as some shift trenchers;

Pray sir what do you call their names, they are

But halfe gods, demi-gods as they say, there's

Nothing beneath the navell.

Ar.

This with the thunderbolt is Jupiter.

Rod.

Jupiter? 'Tis time he were cut off by the middle,

He has been a notable thunderer in his dayes.

Prie.

This is Mars.

Ro.

Mars from the middle upward. Was it by my Lady

Venus direction that he is dismembred too.

H [...] that overcame all in a full careere, looks now like

A Demilaunce.

Arc.

Are they not lively form'd, but sirra away, tell the young Ladies the King is upon entrance.

Enter King, Queen, Conallus. At the other door, Ethne, Fedella, they all kneel.

Ar.

To Jove and Mars the King doth pay

His duty, and thus humbly lay

Upon his Altar, his bright crowne,

Which is not his, if they but frowne.

In token you are pleas'd, let some

Coelestiall flame make pure this roome.

A flame behinde the Altar.

The gods are pleas'd, great King, and we

Return thy golden wreath to thee,

More sacred by our holy fume;

None to the Altar yet presume▪

Now shoot your voices up to Jove,

To Mars and all the Powers above.

After the song the Queen offers, and her daughters, garlands, which are placed upon the beads of the Idols.

[Page]

Song at the Altar.

Come away, Oh come away

And trembling trembling pay

Your pious vowes to Mars and Jove.

While we do sing,

Gummes of precious odours bring,

And light them with your love.

As your holy fires do rise,

Make Jove to wonder

What new flame

Thither came

To wait upon his thunder.

The song being ended, the Idol that presented Jupiter moveth.

Kin.

Archimagus, Conallus; see my children,

The statue moves.

Arc.

Approach it not too neere.

Eth.

It is prodigious.

Arc.

With devotion,

Expect what followes, and keep reverent distance;

I am all wonder.

Jupe.

King Leogarius,

Jove doth accept thy vowes, and pious offerings,

And will showre blessings on thee; and this kingdome,

If thou preserve this holy flame burnes in thee.

But take heed, thou decline not thy obedience,

Which thou shalt best declare by thy just anger

Against that christian stragler Patricke, whose

Bloud must be sacrific'd to us, or you

Must fall in your remisse and cold religion.

When you are mercifull to our despisers,

You pull our wrath upon you, and this Iland.

My duty is perform'd, and I return

To my first stone, a cold and silent statue.

[Page]Arc.

What cannot all commanding Jove? 'tis now

That artificiall tonguelesse thing it was,

[...]ow are you bound to honour Jupiter?

[...]hat with this strange and publike testimony

Accepts your zeale. Pursue what you intended,

And meet this enemy to the gods, that now

Expects your entertainment.

King.

I obey.

Come my Queene, and daughters.

Queen.

I attend you Sir.

Rod.

Is not the Queene a lovely creature Sir?

Prin.

Why how now Rodamant, what passion's this?

Rod.

Oh that I durst unbutton my minde to her.

Arc.

Your Princely daughters pray they may have leave

To offer in their gratitude to the gods

One other prayer, and they will follow Sir.

Ki.

They are my pious daughters, come Conallus.

Exeunt King, Queen, Conallus, &c.

Arc.

They are gone, uncloud.

Fero.

Oh my deere Mistresse, is not the King mock'd rarely?

Eth.

My most lov'd Endarius!

Arc.

Have I not don't my Charge?

Fed,

Most quaintly. Welcome

To thy Fedella.

Rod.

Hum, how's this? more scapes of Jupiter? they have sound their neither parts; the gods are become fine mortal gentlemen, here's precious jugling, if I durst talke on't.

Arc.

Not a sillable, as you desire not to be torne in pieces sir.

Rod.

Gods quoth'a, I held a candle before the devill.

Arc.

To the doore and watch.

Rod.

So I must keep the doore too, here's like to be holy doings▪

Fer.

We owe Archimagus for more then life

For your loves, without which, life is a curse.

Arc.

The musicke prompts you to a dance.

E [...].

I'th temple.

Arc.

'T is most secure, none dare betray you here.

[Page]Eth.

We must away.

Fer.

My life is going from me.

Fed.

Farewell.

Arc.

The King expects, now kisse and part.

Eth.

When next we meet, pray give me back my heart.

Rod.

I am an Esquire by my office.

Exeunt.

ACT. III.

Enter Rodamant.

Rod.

Oh my Royall love! why should not I love the Queene? I have knowne as simple a fellow as I hath been in love with her horse, nay they ha been bedfellowes in the same litter, and in that humour he would have been leap'd, if the beast could have been provok'd to incontinencie; but what if the King should know out, and very lovingly circumcise me for it, or hang me up a gracious spectacle with my tongue out a pearch for sparrowes? why, I should become the gallowes o'my conscience: oh I would stretch in so gentle posture, that the spectators all should edifie, and hang by my example.

Enter Bard.

The Kings merry Bard, if he have overheard, hee'le save the hangman a [...]abour, and [...]ime me to death.

Bar.

Rodamant, my halfe man, halfe gobling, all foole, how ist? when didst thou see the devill.

Rod.

Alas, I never had the happinesse.

Bar.

Why then, thou art not acquainted with thy best friend.

Sings.

Have you never seene in the aire,

One ride with a burning speare,

Upon an old witch with a pad,

For the devill a sore breech had.

With lightning, and thunder

And many more wonder.

His eyes indeed-law sir,

As wide as a saw [...]er.

Oh this would have made my boy mad.

[Page]Rod.

An honest merry trout▪

Bar.

Thou say'st right [...], gape, and I'll throw in a bushell, why does thy [...] hang over thy mouth; as it would peep in, to t [...]ll h [...]w many teeth thou hast?

Rod.

Excellent Bard Oh brave Bard Ha Bard.

Bar.

Excellent [...]! O [...] fi [...] foole, Ha foole.

Rod

[...] with what newes, and whither is thy head trave [...]?

Bar.

My head▪ and my feet goe one way, and bo [...]h now at their [...] [...]nd. The [...]ewes is, that one Patricke a stranger, is invited to court: this way h [...] must come, and I like one of the Kings wanton [...], have broke loose from [...]he kennell, and come thus afore to bark, and bid him welcome, the King and Queene will meete him.

Rod.

Has the King invited him?

Bar.

What else man.

Sings

Oh the Queene and the King, and the royall Off spring,

With the Lords, and Ladies so gay,

I tell you not a tricke, to meete the man Patricke:

Are all now trouping this way.

This man report sings, does many strange things:

Our Priests, and our Bards must give place.

He cares not a straw, for our sword or club-law.

Oh I long to behold his gay face.

Rod.

Prethee a word, thou didst name the Queene, Does she come too?

Bar.

By a [...]y meanes.

Rod.

W [...]ll tis a good soule.

Bar.

Who?

Rod.

The Queene.

Bar.

The Queene ist? dost make but a soule o'her? treason, I haue heard some foolish Philosophers affirme, that women have no soules: 'twere well for some they had no bodies; but to make no body of the Queene, is treason, if it be not fellony.

Rod.

Oh my royall love▪

Bar

Love, art thou in love Rodamant? nay then thou may'st [Page] Talke treason or any thing. Folly and madnesse are la [...]h free, an [...] may ride cheeke by joll with a judge. But dost thou know wha [...] love is, thou one of Cupids overgrowne monkies? Come, crack me this nut of love, and take the maggot for thy labour.

Rod.

Preethee do thou say what 'tis.

Bar.

No, I will sing a piece of my minde, and love to thee.

Sings

Love is a bog, a deep bog, a wide bog.

Love is a clog, a great clog, a close clog.

'Tis a wildernesse to loose our selves,

A halter 'tis to nooze our selves.

Then draw Dun out o'th mire:

And throw the clog into the fire.

Keepe in the Kings high way,

And sober you cannot stray.

If thou admire no female else,

The balter may go bang it selfe.

Drink wine and be merry, for love is a folly:

And dwells in the house of mellancholly.

Rod.

'Tis such a merry baboone, and shootes quills like a Porcupine, but who's this?

Enter St. Patrick, and his traine at one doore. At the other, the King, Queene, his sonnes and daughters, Milcho, Archimagus, and Priests.

Bar.

'Tis he, I know him by instinct.

Sings.

Patricke welcome to this Ile,

See how every thing doth smile:

To thy staffe and thy miter,

And Lawne that is whiter.

And every shaven crowne a welcome welcome to towne.

Looke where the King, and Queene doe greete thee:

H [...] Princoly sonnes are come to meete thee.

And see where a paire is, of very fine Ear [...]es.

Prepar'd too,

That thou may'st report, thy welcome to Court,

And the Bard too,

[Page]And so pray father give me your [...].

Pat.

I thank thee courteous Bard, thy heart is honest.

But to the King my dutie.

Kin.

Welcome Patrick,

For so thou cal'st thy self; we have throwne off

Our anger: and with calme, and melting eyes

Looke on thee. Thou hast piety, to forgive

Our former threats and language, and to satisfie.

For our deniall of some humble cottages,

Against the hospitable lawes of nature.

We give thee now our Palace, use it freely.

My selfe, our Queene and children, will be all

Thy guests: and owe our dwellings to thy favour.

There are some things of venerable mark

Upon thy brow, thou art some holy man,

Design'd by providence to make us happy:

Agen, most welcome to us.

Quee.

His aspect

Doth promise goodnes: Welcome.

Co.

To us all.

Pat.

If this be heartie, heaven will not permit

Your charities unrewarded.

Cor.

I am weary

Of these dull complements, Archimagus.

A [...]c.

I am prepar'd, I know your bloud's a longing,

To change embraces with Emeria.

Receive this, which worne upon your

Arme, is so by power of magicke fortified,

You shall goe where you please invisible,

Untill you take it off: Goe to your Mistres.

Cor.

Softly my deere Archimagus; the rest

Speake in a whisper▪ I shall be jealous of

The intelligencing aire.

Kin.

You may be confident

Our favour spreads to all▪ But where is Dichu

Your Convert? wee'l receive him to our grace too.

[Page]Pat.

He durst not Sir, approach your royall presence.

And griefe▪ for the sad fate of his two sonnes,

Hath made him weary of society:

Not farre off in a wood, he meanes to weare out

His life in prayer and pennance.

Arc

How do you tast it?

Cor.

'Tis rare, and must succeede to my ambition.

Arc.

Loose no time time then▪

Cor.

I fly, command me ever.

Exit Cori.

Kin.

I am not well o'th' suddaine.

Quee.

How? what ist

That doth offend the King?

Kin.

An evill conscience: Alas my children.

Con.

Father.

Arc.

Sir.

Eth.

Pray speake to us.

Kin.

How shall I

Win credit with this good man, that I have

Repented, for the bloud of Dichues sonnes?

Pat.

If you dissemble not with heaven, I can

Be easily gain'd Sir, to beleeve and pray for you.

Kin.

Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony

Of love with us, the seale of reconcilement.

Let some one bring us wine, I wo'not move,

Untill I drink to this blest man.

Arc.

Away.

Kin.

This place shall be remembred to posterity,

Wher [...] Leogarius first, shew'd himself friend

To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst,

That wi [...]l not l [...]t me expect▪ till more returne.

There is a streame of peace within my heart.

Arc.

Tis rarely counterfeited.

Con

He is my father,

I should [...] tell him; Tis not like a King,

T [...]us to con [...]pire a poore mans death. What thinks

Our royall mother? Is it just to take

[Page]By stratagemme, this innocent mans life.

Que.

What meanes my sonne?

Con.

Shall I betray the plot

Yet? and preserve him: see the wine.

Arc.

The wine

Attends you Sir.

Kin.

Tis well, [...]ill us a cheerefull cup: here Patrick,

We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts.

Eth.

What does my father meane to doe with this

Dull thing? hee'le never make a courtier.

Fed.

His very lookes have turn'd my blood already.

Arc.

I'll spice his cup.

Kin.

Doo't strongly.

Que.

There's something within prompts me to pitty

This stranger.

Con.

Do you love wine Sir?

Pat.

If I did not,

I should presume against my nature once

To please the King that hath thus honoured us.

Con.

Do not, I say do not.

Arc.

Please you Sir?

Kin.

Come, to our Queene.

Rod.

My royall love, would I had the grace to drink to her or kisse the cup.

Pat.

My dutie.

Arc.

Now observe Sir the change, he has it home.

Rod.

I cannot live, my heart wonot hold out.

Kin.

Forbeare, as you affect your life.

Qu.

How's this? now I suspect Conallus.

Pat.

I have one boone to ask your M [...]jestie;

Since you look on us with this gracious smile:

That you would give my poore companions leave,

To build a little chappell in this place,

It shall be the first monument of your love;

To use our owne religion, the ground offers

Plenty of stone, the cost and paine be [...]urs.

[Page]Kin.

Not yet?

Pat.

'Twill bind us ever to pray for you.

Kin.

If it were violent, as thou say'st, it had

By this time gnawne to his bowels.

Pat.

Sir, you mind not

The humble suit I make.

Arc.

Not yet?

Pat.

Great Sir.

Kin.

It does not alter him, he rather lookes

With fr [...]sher bloud upon him.

Arc.

'Tis my wonder,

I did not trust another to prepare his cup.

Kin.

Come, 'tis not poyson, we are abus'd.

Arc.

Upon my life.

Pat.

The King is troubled.

Kin.

Prepare another.

Arc.

It shall be done.

Kin.

Come hither sirra, you brought this wine.

Rod.

I did, Sir.

Kin.

And you shall taste it.

Rod.

Would I were but worthy.

Kin.

I will have it so. Come, drink our health.

Rod.

May I remember your good Queenes.

Arc.

And he had the constitution of an Elephant

'Twould pay him.

Qu.

How cheere you, Sir.

Pat.

Well, Madam; but I observe

Distractions in the King.

Kin.

Nay, drink it off.

Rod.

And it were as deep as the root of Penmenmaure, my royall Love should have it.

Kin.

Now we shall try the ingredients, it stirr'd

Not him, has he done't?

Rod.

So.

Arc.

Yes, and the change begins to shew already.

Rod.

Hoy ho—what's that?

[Page]Bar.

Where?

Rod.

H [...]re, here abouts, was the wine burnt? oh there's wilde [...] the wine.

Arc.

It workes on him.

Rod.

There's squibs and crackers in my stomacke; am not I poyson'd?

Bar.

Poyso [...]'d? we shall want a foole then.

Rod.

A way, I'll never drink agen.

Bar.

Not often, and thou beest poyson'd.

Rod.

It increases, my royall love has poison'd me, her health has blowne my bowells up. Oh a cooler, would I were a while in the frozen sea, charity is not cold enough to releeive me: the devill is making fireworkes in my belly. Ha the Queene, let me but speake to the Queene; Oh Madam, little do you think, that I have poyson'd my self, Oh for your sweete sake. But howsoever; Oh think upon me when I am dead. I bequeath my heart, Oh there 'tis already: my royall love farewell.

Arc.

What thinke you now? it hath dispatch'd him raving.

Pat.

Madam, you shew a pious heart, I finde

My death was meant; but 'tis heavens goodnesse

I should not fall by poyson: do not loose

Your charity.

Bar.

Hee's dead.

Pat.

Pray l [...]t me see the fellow.

Kin.

It affrights me, this was some treason meant to us;

And thee good man: How I am innocent.

Pat.

How soone death would devoure him.

Arc.

Past your cure.

Pat.

That power we serve can call back life, and see,

He has a little motion.

Bar.

He breathes too, n [...]y then he may live to have th'other cup: Madam, this Patrick is a rare physition, if he st [...]y with us, [...]ee'l [...] all immortall.

Kin.

Alive agen? Oh let me honour thee.

Quee.

We cannot Sir enough;

Receive me Patrick,

[Page]A weake disciple to thee: my soule bids me

Embrace thy faith: Make me a Christian.

Kin.

How? did [...] thou heare Archimagus, let some

Convey our Queene hence, her weak conscience melts;

Shee'l be a Christian she sayes: I hate her,

And do confine her to the house of Milcho

Our zealous Provost.

Pat.

Tis the Kings pleasure Madam,

I should attend you hence.

Quee.

Where the King please.

Pat.

In any prison Madam, I dare visit you;

Be comforted, they do but fight with heaven.

Con.

I'll waite upon my mother.

Exeunt.

Kin.

Looke to my daughters,

Least this change worke on them.

Arc.

They are my charge.

Kin.

Be not dejected Patrick, we do meane

All good to thee: set forward, have a care

Of that poore fellow.

Pat.

I'll attend you Sir,

And trust to Providence we shall be safe.

Exeunt.

Bar.

How ist now Rodamant? dost thou remember thou wer [...] dead? Thou wert poyson'd.

Rod.

There is a kinde of grumbling in my guts still.

Bar.

Sings.

Come, we will drink a cup boy, but of better brewing,

And we will drink it up joy, without any feare of—

Wine is injust that is taken on trust, if it tarry with us it fatts,

A cup boy, drinkup joy, and let e'm go p [...]yson ratts.

Exeunt.

Enter Emeria.

Em.

What is it that doth sit so heavy on me?

Since Coribrous talk'd with me, I finde a dulnes in my braine; and

My eyes look as through a mist: which hangs upon my lids,

And weighes e'm downe. He frighted me to heare him,

He has a rugged and revengefull nature;

Not the sweet temper that his brother.

[Page]My deere Con [...]llus, mine? alas did I

Say mine? indeed he is Master of my heart,

But something makes me feare I shall not [...]

So happy as I wish in his possession:

Yet we have vowes on both sid [...]s, holy ones,

And marriage promis'd. But I am too loude;

Yet not, my lodgings are remote and priva'st

Of all the Court: and I have dismist the servants,

None neere to reach my voice, then till this give

Accesse, I need not feare the silent chambers.

More cloudes doe gather 'bout my eyes, 'tis strange,

I am not us'd to be inclin'd to sleepe,

While the day shines; then take what nature offers

Emeria, and comply, it may discharge

Thy waking melancholly, so I feele

It gently slide upon my sences.

Enter Spirits before Coribreus habited gloriously, and representing Ceancrochi.

Cor.

So, so, this amm [...]let I finde secures me

From all obs [...]rvers, [...] I now am in

H [...]r chamber, by a feate my Spirit did me:

Ha? She sle [...]pes too, what a fine Bawd the devill is,

What opportunities he can frame to bring

These things to passe; I were best loose no time;

Madam, Madam, faire Emeria.

Eme.

Ha? who's that? was it a voice that cal'd me?

Or do I dreame? here's no body, this key

Made all without sast; yet I' [...]l see.

Exit.

Cor.

I had

Forgot, shee'le never see me if I do not

Take off my charme, perhaps I may agen be visible

If I ha not lost my selfe.

Enter Emeria.

Eme.

The doores are fast.

Ha [...] Blesse me you Powers,

This musick is not frequent in my chambers;

'Tis here, I know not where, I can see nothing.

[Page]Cor.

Emeria.

Eme.

Who ist that calls Emeria? goodnes ayde me!

Cor.

Put off thy fright Emeria, yet I blame not

Thy feeble sence to tremble at my presence:

Not us'd to mortall eyes, and unprepar'd.

But gather strength, and call thy blood agen

Whose seate a palenesse doth usurp: I am

Thy freind.

Eme.

But no acquaintance sure, what are you?

Cor.

Not what I seeme, I have assum'd this for me,

To tell thee what a happinesse is now

Coming from heaven upon thee.

Eme.

Vpon me?

Cor.

And when the sweete Emeria is collected,

Shee will loose her life agen in joy and wonder.

Eme.

My strength returnes, this is a gentle language,

And Spirit, if thou beest one; speake thy will.

Cor.

Then know Emeria, I am no mortall

But Ceancrochi, chiefe of all the gods

That now appeare.

Eme.

I know not what to answer

But with my humble knee.

Cor.

Thy pure devotion

Richer then cloudes of incense, Myrrhe, and Cassia,

And all the Gummes whose piles make sweete our Altar,

Hath been delightfull to the gods, and me,

And I have left the Palace of the blest,

Where many glorious virgins waite: and want thee,

A fellow singer in their heavenly quire,

To visit in this forme the faire Emeria,

And thank thee for thy pious sacrifices:

Rise then and be confirm'd, we meane to honour

Thy p [...]rson and thy vertues.

Em.

Can this roofe

Be so much blest? and can so great a deity

Consider my imperfect dutie thus?

[Page]Cor.

To assure thy thoughts, ask fairest virgin, what

Thou most desirest, and it shall firmer, than

The Destinies, be made thine owne: hast thou

A wish to this worlds glorie, to be greater?

Would'st thou enlarge thy knowledge, or thy pleasure?

Do'st thou affect to have thy life extended,

Double the course of Nature; or thy beautie

Above the malice of disease, or time

To wither? Would'st thou see thy booke of fate,

And read the various lines that fall into

Thy life, as to their center: speake, and be

Possest; if thou refuse what here is nam'd,

Thy wish will come too late, Emeria?

Em.

None of all these; let me be still accepted

An humble servant to the gods.

Cor.

Then I

Will find some other way to thy reward:

First, we release that dutie of thy knee;

Reach thy faire hand.

Em.

I dare not.

Cor.

Doe not tremble,

It shall but meet another like thine owne;

For I had care not to affright my virgin:

What do'st thou see in me, that to thy sense

Appeares not man? Divinitie is too bright

For thy weake eye, and therefore I have clad

In this no threatning shape, all that is divine:

That I with safetie of thy sence, Emeria,

Might visit thee: come, I will see thee often,

If thou be wise to understand how much

It is my will to honour thee; and I

Will thus descend, and leave my beames behind,

Whose brightnesse were enough to burne thee,

To converse with thee in a loving way

Of smiling thus, and thus embracing thee—

Of mixing palmes, nay I will kisse thee too.

[Page]Em.

Doe our gods practise this?

Cor.

Not, but with those

They meane especiall grace to, such as they know must hereafter shine above with them, though meerly mortals, are ador'd; and seldome visit the world, hid thus in flesh and bloud, which wee at pleasure can assume, and have desires like you, and have our passions too, can love, I, and enjoy where wee will place the happinesse, else we had lesse than men.

Em.

I thought the powers above had beene all honest.

Cor.

'Tis in them chastitie, nor is it sin

In those we love to meet wit active flames,

And be glad mothers to immortall issues:

How oft hath Jove, who justly is ador'd,

Left heaven, to practise love with such a faire one?

The Sun, for one embrace of Daphne, would

Have pawn'd his beames: not one, but hath sometimes

Descended, to make fruitfull weake Mortalitie.

Oh, if thou could'st but reach, Emeria,

With thy imagination, what delight,

What flowing extasies of joy we bring

Your sex, made nice and cold by winter lawes

Of man, that freeze the bloud, thou wood'st be fond

To my embraces, and petition me

To blesse thee with a rape, yet I woe thy

Consent.

Em.

Away:

Thou art no god sure, but

Some vicious Impostor: Can a Deitie

Breath so much impious language, and reward

Vertue with shame?

Cor.

Take heed, and doe not va [...]e

Thy selfe by rash and froward opposition;

Know, I can make thee nothing, at a breath.

Em.

Better be so, than made so foule a being.

Cor.

Nay then, what should have beene with thy consent a blessing, shall now only serve my pleasure, and I will take the forfeit of thy coldnesse.

[Page]Em.

Oh help, some man, I dare not call upon the gods; for they are wicked growne, oh help.

Cor.

I shall need none, thou thing of disobedience, thou art now within my power of love, or furie: yeeld, or I ll force thee into postures shall make pleasure weep, and hurle thee into want [...]nnesse.

He carries her in. The Devils rejoycing in a dance conclude the Act.

ACT. IV.

Enter Milcho and Servant:

Mil.

Who's with the Queene, my prisoner?

Ser.

The Prince Conallus came to visit her.

Exit S [...]r.

Mil.

So: bid my daughter Emeria come hither,

She's come verie melancholy from the Court,

Under pretence to wait upon the Queene here.

Enter Emeria.

Still sad; come, I must have your face looke otherwise,

Dresse it in smiles: I hope you put not on

This sorrow for the Queene, she is a traytor

To the King, and to the gods.

Em.

A traytor, Sir!

Oh doe not say so; 'tis, I heare, for nothing,

But looking on the stranger Patrick with

Some pitie.

Mil.

It will not run

Out of my thought; but this is the same Patrick

That was my slave once, he was a Brittan too:

I know not how, he found some treasure then

To buy his libertie: were he agen

My slave, no gold should buy him from my swine,

Whose once companion he was: Emeria,

D'yee heare? Conallus, the young Prince is come

To see his mother; use him gently, girle:

Come, I have heard he does affect thee, ha?

[Page]He may be King.

Em.

His brother Coribreus

Is neerer to that title, and he sayes

He loves me.

Mil.

Does he so? then love him best,

Eme.

Imagine I had promisd, Sir, my heart

To his younger brother.

Mil.

Break a thousand promises,

And hazard breaking of thy heart too wench,

To be but one degree neerer a Queene;

It does exalt my heart, spread all thy charmes

Of wit and language, when he courts thee girle:

Smile, kisse, or any thing, that may endeere

Him and so great a fortune: I must leave thee,

But wonot be long absent.

Ser.

Sir, the Bard does presse to see the Queene.

Mil.

He must not see her,

His insolence I'll punish; yet admit him hither,

His pleasant nature may raise mirth

In my sad daughter.

Enter Bard.

Welcome, merry Bard.

Bar.

I care not whither I be or no: the Queene

I come to see.

Mil.

Shee's private with the Prince:

Come hither, do'st thou see that piece of sullennesse,

That phlegmatick foolish thing.

Bar.

And like the father.

Mil.

Make her merry, and I'll give thee

Gold joy to purchase a new harp, here's some

In earnest; thou hast wanton pretty songs

To stirre the merry thoughts of maids: I'me gone

To give thee opportunity, my presence

May spoile the working of thy mirth, that done

Sha't speak with the Queene too.

Exit.

Bar.

Fare you well Sir, and take a knave

Along we'e. Here's a rose

[Page]Sprung out of a thistle now: You are sad, Madam.

Em.

I have no cause of mirth, Bard.

Ba.

What d'yee think of me?

Em.

Think of thee, Bard; I think th'art honest, and canst shew a pleasant face sometimes, without an over joy within, but 'tis thy office.

Ba.

I know why you are so melancholy.

Em.

Prethee why do'st think, Bard?

Ba.

You want a man.

Em.

Why, thou art one?

Ba.

That's more than you know.

Sings.

'Tis l [...]ng of men that maids are sad;

Come then, and sweetly kisse them,

Their lips invite, you will be mad

To come too late and misse them.

In their cheeks, are full-blowne roses

To make garlands, to make posies:

He that desires to be a father,

Let him make haste before they fall, and gather:

You stay too long, and do them wrong:

If men would virgins strive to please,

No maid this yeere should dye o'th greene disease.

What, are you merrie yet?

Em.

I am so far

From being rais'd to mirth, that I encline

To anger.

Ba.

Come, I'll sit you with a song,

A lamentable ballad, of one lost

Her maiden-head, and would needs have it cri'd,

With all the marks, in hope to ha't agen.

Em

You were not sent to abuse me?

Ba.

A daintie aire too, I'll but tune my instrument.

Em.

No more, or I'll complaine: sure hee knowes nothing of my dishonour. How mine owne thoughts fright me?

Ba.

Now you shall heare the dittie.

Em.

Hence, foolish Bard.

Sings.

[Page]Ba.

A poore wench was sighing, and weeping amaine,

And faine would she have her virginitie againe,

Lost she knew not how; in her sleep (as she said)

She went to bed pure, but she rise not a maid:

She made fast the doore,

She was certaine before,

She laid her selfe downe in the bed:

But when she awaked, the truth is stark-naked,

Oh she mist her maiden-head.

Enter Conallus.

Ha, the young Prince, I'll tarrie no longer w'ee.

Now to the Queene.

Exit.

Con.

Emeria, prethee doe not hide thy face

From me, 'tis more than common sorrow makes

Thee look thus: If the Queenes mis-fortunes have

Darken'd thy face, I suffer too in that.

If for thy selfe thou weep'st, my almost ebbing

Griefe thou wilt enforce back, and beget

New seas, in which, made high by one strong sigh

Of thine, I meet a watry sepulcher.

My mothers fate commands my griefe, but thine

A greater suffering, since our hearts are one,

And there wan [...]s nothing, but a ceremony

To justifie it to the world.

Em.

Call back

Your promises, my Lord, they were ill plac'd

On me, for I have nothing to deserve'em.

Con.

If thou be'st constant to thy selfe, and art

Emeria still—

Em.

That word hath wounded me.

Con.

Why, art not thou thy selfe?

Em.

I have the shape still,

But not the inward part.

Con.

Am I so miserable,

To have my faith suspected, for I dare not

Think thou canst sin by any change: What act

[Page]Have I done my Emeria? or who hath

Poyson'd thy pure soule with suggestion

Of my revolt? Apostasie I'll call it,

For n [...]xt our gods, thou art my happinesse.

Em.

Now, my deere Lord, and let mee adde thus much

In my owne part, I never lov'd you better;

Never with more religious thoughts and honour

Look'd on you; my heart never made a vow

So blessed in my hopes, as that I gave you,

And I suspect not yours.

Con.

What then can make thee,

My Emeria, lesse; or me? Thou do'st affright—

Em.

Yes, I am lesse, and have that taken from me

Hath almost left me nothing, or if any,

So much unworthy you, that you would curse me,

Should I betray you to receive Emeria.

Con.

Doe not destroy me so, [...]e plaine.

Em.

Then thus—

But if I drop a teare or two, pray pardon me:

Did not the story touch my selfe, I should

Weep for it in another; you did promise

To marrie me, my Lord.

Con.

I did, and will.

Em.

Alas, I have lost.

Con.

What?

Em.

The portion that I promis'd to bring with me.

Con.

Do I value thy wealth?

Em.

Oh, but the treasure

I lost, you wil expect, and scorne me ever,

Because you have it not; yet heaven is witnesse

'Tis not my fault, a thiefe did force it from me,

Oh my deere Lord.

Con.

I know not what to feare,

Speake plainer yet.

Em.

You'l say I am too loud,

When I but whisper, Sir. I am no virgin.

[Page]Con.

Ha!

Em.

I knew 'twould fright you; but by all those teares,

The poore Lamb, made a prey to the fierce wolfe,

Had not more innocence, or lesse consent

To be devoured, than I to lose mine honour.

Con.

Why, wert thou ravished?

Em.

You have named it, Sir▪

Con.

The villaine, name the villaine, sweet Emeria,

That I may send his leprous soule to hell for't,

And when he hath confest the monstrous sin,

I'll think thee still a virgin, and thou art so:

Confirme thy pietie by naming him.

Em.

It will enlarge but your vexation, Sir,

That he's above your anger and revenge;

For he did call himselfe a god that did it.

Con.

The Devill he was; Oh do not wrack, Emeria,

The heart that honours thee; mock me not, I prethee,

With calling him a god, it was a furie,

The master fiend of darknesse, and as hot

As hell could make him, that would ravish thee.

Em.

If you do think I ever lov'd you, Sir,

Or have a soule after my bodies rape,

He nam'd himselfe a god, great Ceancrochius,

To whom I owe my shame and transformation.

Con.

Oh, I am lost in miserie and amazement

Exit.

Em.

So; I did see before it would afflict him:

But having given these reasons to Conallus,

For our divorce, I have provided how

To finish all disgraces by my death.

Enter Archimagus.

Come, cure of my dishonour, and with bloud

Wash off my staine. Ha, Archimagus!

Arc.

Madam.

Em.

What newes with our great Priest.

Arc.

I come to tell you, heavenly Ceancrochius,

Of whom I had this day a happie vision,

Is pleas'd agen to visit you, and commanded

[Page]I should prepare you.

Eme.

I begin to finde

Some Magicall imposture. Does he know it?

Arc.

I leave to say, how much you are his favorite,

Be wise, and humble for so great a blessing▪

Eme.

This does increase my feares, I've been betraid,

I'll live a little longer then; great Priest

My words are poore to make acknowledgement

For so divine a a favour: But I shall

Humbly expect, and hold my selfe agen

Blest in his presence.

Enter Corybreus as before habited.

Arc.

Hee's here Emeria;

Never was virgin so much honoured.

Exit.

Cor.

How is it with my sweet Emeria?

Eme.

That question would become an ignorant Mortall,

Whose sense would be inform'd; not Ceancrochius

Whose eye at once can see the soule of all things.

Cor.

I do not ask,

To make thee think I doubt, but to maintain

That forme, which men familiar to such faire ones use

When they converse: For I would have my language

Soft as a lovers.

Eme.

You are still gracious.

Cor.

This temper is becoming, and thou dost

Now appeare worthy of our loves and presence.

I knew when thy wise soule examin'd what

It was to be the darling to a god,

Thou would'st compose thy gestures, and resigne

Thy selfe to our great will: Which we accept

And pardon thy first frailty; 'tis in us

Emeria to translate thee hence to heaven,

Without thy bodies separation,

I'th twinckling of an eye, but thou sha't live

Here to convince erring mortality,

That gods do visit such religious votaries

In humane for me; and thus salute 'em.

[Page]Em.

And thus be answered, with a resolute heart.

S [...]abs him.

Cor.

Oh thou hast murder'd me, Strumpet, hold.

Eme.

Sure if you be a god, you are above

These wounds: If man thou hast deserv'd to bleed

For thy impiety.

Cor.

My blood is punish'd,

A curse upon thy hand, I am no god;

I am the Prince, see Corybreus.

Em.

Ha? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord?

I have done a justice to the gods in this

And my owne honour. Thou lost thing to goodnesse;

It was a glorious wound, and I am proude

To be the gods revenger.

Cor.

H [...]lp, Oh I am lost.

He dies.

Em.

Call on the furies they did help thy sinne,

And will transport thy soule on their black wings

To hell, Princ [...]; and the gods can do no lesse,

Than in reward to draw thy purple streame up,

Shed in their cause, and place it a portent

In heaven, to affright such foule lascivious Princes.

I will live now, this story shall not fall so,

And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus

I have done some revenge for thee in this,

Yet all this wonot h [...]lp me to my owne

Agen; my honour of a virgin never will

Returne, I live and move, but wanting thee,

At best I'me but a walking miserie.

Exit.

Enter Rodament reading.

Rod.

My royall love, my Lady, and faire Misteries,

Such love as mine, was never read in histories.

There's love, and love, good.

The poyson to my heart was not so cruell.

As that I cannot hang thee, how's that, hang the Queene?

The poyson to my heart was not so cruell,

As that I ca [...]ot hang thee, my rich jewell.

[Page]Within my heart. Oh there's hang and jewell, and heart, and heart, good agen.

I am thy constant Elfe,

And dare for thy sweet sake, go hang my s [...]lfe.

What though I am no Lord, yet I am loyall,

There's a gingle upon the letter, to shew if she will

Give me but an inch, I'll take an ell; Lord and loyall, and though no prince I am thy servant royall. There's no figure in that, yes impossibility, servant and royall.

Then grant him love for love, that doth present these,

With Noverint universi per prefentes.

there's to shew I am a Linguist, with a rumme in the rime consisting of two severall languages, beside love and love, thy jeat and alablaster face. I eat because it drawes the straw of my heart, and alablaster, because there is some white in her face,

Thy jeat and Alablaster face now calls,

My love and hunger up to eat stone walls.

But so I may bite of her nose, if her face be alablaster; but she is in prison, there it holds, and I may do her service to break prison for her any way. Well, here's enough at a time, if she like this, I have an ambling muse that shall be at her service: But what stumbling block is cast in my way? This is no place to sleepe in, I take it in a story under a trundlebed: I have seene these clothes afore now, the tailor tooke measure for one of our gods that made 'em; [...] heare freind, hal 'tis the Prince Corybreus, dead, kild, Ha? my Lord hee's speechlesse. What were I best to doe? in stead of searching the wound I'll first search his pockets: What's here? a bracelet, a pretty toy, I'll give it the Queene, but if I be found here alone I may be found necessary to his death. Ha, what shall I do?

Hides himselfe. Enter Milcho and servant.

Mil.

My daughter gone abroad without a servant?

Ser.

I offer'd my attendance.

Mil.

Ha! what's here, one murder'd? 'tis the Prince,

Slaine in my house, confusion; Look about,

Search for the traitour I am undone for ever.

[Page]Ser.

The Prince! I'll take my oath I see him not enter.

Why thus disguis'd?

Mil.

I tremble to look on him, seek everie where.

Ser.

I gave accesse to none but Rodamant, and he is gone.

Mil.

What shall we doe? remove the murder'd body,

And on thy life be silent, we are lost else.

Attend without, and give accesse to none,

Till I have thought some way through this affliction.

Did my stars owe me this? oh, I could curse 'em,

And from my vex [...]d heart exhale a vapour

Of execrations, that should blast the day,

And darken all the world. The Prince murder'd

In my house, and the Traytor not discovered.

Enter Servant.

Ser.

One, Sir, with a letter.

Mil.

Let him carrie it back, where's the young Prince, Conallus?

Ser.

Gone long since, Sir.

Mil.

I'll lay the murder upon him,

It will be thought ambition, or upon the [...].

Ser.

Sir, one waits

With a Letter from the King.

Mil.

The King? that name

Shoots horrour through me now, who is the messenger?

Ser.

A stranger both in habit and in person:

This is he, Sir.

Enter Patrick.

Mil.

Ha.

Pat.

The King salutes you,

My Lord, this paper speaks his royall pleasure▪

You have forgot me, Sir; but I have beene more

Familiar to your knowledge: Is there nothing

Within my face, that doth resemble once

A slave you had?

Mil.

H [...], is your name Patrick?

Pat.

It is, my Lord: I made my humble suit

Toth' King, that by his favour I might visit you;

And though I have not now that servile tye,

It will not shame me to professe Iowe

[Page]You dutie still, and shall to my best power

Obey your just commands.

Mil.

He writ to me,

That I should try my art, and by some stratagem

Discharge his life; I'll do't, but all this wonot

Quit the suspition of the Princes death:

What if I lay the murder to his charge?

I can sweare any thing. But if he come off,

My head must answer; no trick in my braine?

Y'are welcome; the King writes you have desires

To see the Queene, you shall entreat her presence.

Pat.

The King has honour'd me.

Mil.

You have deserv'd it.

And I doe count it happinesse to receive

Whom he hath grac'd; but the remembrance

Of what you were, addes to the entertainment:

My old acquaintance, Patrick.

Pat.

You are noble.

Enter Queene and Bard.

Mil.

The Queene? welcome agen, come hither, sirra.

Pat.

Madam; I joy to see you, and present

My humble dutie: Heaven hath heard my prayers,

I hope, and if you still preserve that goodnesse,

That did so late, and sweetly shine upon you,

I may not be unwelcome, since there is

Something behind, which I am trusted with,

To make you happier.

Qu.

Holy Patricik, welcome.

Mil.

Obey in everie circumstance: My despaire

Exit Serv▪

Shall have revenge wait on it. This is, Madam,

A good man, he was once my slave; let not

That title take thy present freedome of

My house; my fortunes and my fate, I wish,

May have one period with thee, I shall

Attend you agen, I hope we all may live

And dye together yet. My dutie, Madam.

Exit.

Ba▪

I doe not like their whispering, there's some mischiefe, hee [Page] did so over-act his courtesie, I'll looke about us.

Pat.

Doe, honest Bard. Oh Madam, if you knew

The difference bet wixt my faith, and your

Religion, the grounds and progresse of

What we professe, the sweetnesse, certaintie,

And full rewards of vertue, you would hazard,

Nay, lose the glorie of ten thousand worlds,

Like this to be a Christian, and be blest

To lay your life downe (but a moment, on

Which our eternitie depends) and through

Torture and seas of bloud contend, to reach

That blessed vision at last, in which

Is all that can be happie, and perfection.

Enter Bard.

Qu.

I have a soule most willing to be taught.

Ba.

Oh Madam, fire, help, we are all lost,

The house is round about on fire, the doores

Are barr'd and lock' [...] ▪ there is no going forth,

We shall be burnt, and that will spoyle my singing:

My voyce hath been r [...]cover'd from a cold;

But fire will spoyle it utterly.

Enter Victor.

Ang. Vict.

Have no dread, holy Patrick, all their malice

Shall never hurt thy person, Heaven doth look

With scorne upon their treacherie, thou art

Reserv'd to make this Nation glorious,

By their conversion to the Christian faith,

Which shall by bloud of many Martyrs grow,

Till it be call'd the Iland os the Saints;

Look up, and see what thou observ'st.

Milcho throwing his treasures into the flames.

Mil.

Patrick, thou art caught, inevitable flames

Must now devoure thee, th'art my slave againe,

There is no hope to scape: How I doe glorie,

That by my policie thou shalt consume,

Though I be made a sacrifice with thee

To our great gods; ha, ha, the Queene: Bard,

You will be exlent rost meat for the Devill.

[Page]Pat.

Heare me.

Mil.

I choose to leap into these fires,

Rather than heare thee preach thy cursed faith.

Y'are sure to follow me, the King will praise

My last act yet; thus I give up my breath,

He burnes himselfe.

And facrifice you all for his sons death.

Pat.

Oh Tyrant, cruell to thy selfe, but we

Must follow our blest Guide and holy Guardian:

Lead on, good Angell, feare not, vertuous Queene;

A black night may beget a smiling morne,

At worst to dye, 'tis easier than be borne.

Exeunt.

Recorders. The Altar prepar'd with Ferochus and Endarius, as before. King▪ Conallus, Archimagus, Priest, Ethne, Fedella, a sacrifice of Christian bloud.

Arc.

Great Jove and Mars appeased bee

With bloud, which we now offer thee,

Drain'd from a Christians heart, our first

Oblation of that Sect accurst;

And may we to the Altar bring

Patrick, our second offering.

The father of this Tribe, whose blood

Thus shed, will doe this Iland good.

The gods allow what we present;

For see, the holy flame is sent

To mightie Jove and Mars, now bring

Your vocall sacrifice, and sing.

Song at the Altar.

Looke downe, great Jove and God of war,

A new sacrifice is layd

On your Altars, richer far,

Than what in arromatick heaps we paid:

No curled smoake we send,

With perfumes to befriend

The drooping aire, the cloud

We offer is exhal'd from bloud,

More shining than your tapers are,

And everie drop is worth a star.

[Page]

Were there no red in heaven, from the torne heart

Of Christians, we that colour could impart,

And with their bloud, supply those crimson streakes

That dress: the skie, when the faire morning breakes.

Enter Rodamant, and whispers the King, who falleth upon the ground.

Con.

Father.

Arc.

The King.

Leo.

Away. Let not my daughters stir from hence:

Is this reward, you gods, for my devotion:

Exit with Conallus.

Arc.

No more: I could not by my Art foresee

This danger.

Eth.

Our father seem'd much troubled.

Arc.

I must appeare a stranger to all passages,

Be not disturb'd, my princely charge, use you

The free delights of life, while they are presented

In these your lovers: Si [...]ra, make fast the doore,

And wait aloofe; I'll follow the sad King.

Exit.

Fed.

No miserie can happen, while I thus

Embrace Ferochus.

Eth.

And I safe in the armes

Of my deare servant.

End.

You make it heaven by gracing me.

Fer.

But why have we so long

Delay'd our blest enjoyings, thus content

With words, the shaddowes of our happinesse.

Rod.

So, so, here's fine devotion in the Temple:

But where's my bracelet, let me see?

Fer.

Where's Rodamant?

Rod.

Am I invisible agen? Is this the trick on't.

Fer.

The doore is safe; come, my deare princely Mistresse,

And with the crowne of love reward your servant.

Fed.

What's that?

Fer.

Fruition of our joyes.

Fed.

Is not this

Delight enough, that we converse, and smile

And kisse, Ferochus.

Rodamant kisses Fedella.

[Page]Who's that?

Fer.

Where, Madam?

Fed.

I felt another lip.

Fer.

Than mine? here's none, try it agen:

Why should her constitution be so cold?

I would not lose more opportunities,

Love, shoot a flame like mine into her bosome.

Eth.

Who's that, Endurius, that kist me now?

End.

None, since you blest my lip with a touch, Madam,

My brother is at play with your faire sister.

Eth.

I felt a beard.

End.

A beard? that's strange.

Rod.

You shall feele: some else too.

He strikes Endarius.

End.

Why that unkind blow, Madam?

Eth.

What meanes my servant?

Rod.

Now to my other gamester.

Fer.

Oh, I could dwell for ever in this bosome,

Rod. puls Fer. by the nose.

But is there nothing else for us to taste?

Hold.

Fed.

What's the matter?

Fer.

Something has almost torne away my nose. Endarius?

End.

What sayes my brother?

Fer.

Did you pull me by the nose?

End.

I mov'd not hence.

Did you kick me, brother?

Fed.

We have troubled f [...]oles sure, here's no body

But our selves; the doores, you say, are safe.

Fer.

Wonot that prompt you to something else?

Fed.

I dare not understand you.

What bloud is that upon your face?

Rod.

You want a beard, young Gentleman.

Fer.

Mine? Bloud; I felt something that like a flie

Glanc'd o'my cheeke:

Brother, your nose bl [...]d you that [...].

End.

You ne [...]d not blush [...]d one side, brother▪ ha, ha.

[Page]Eth.

Is not this strange, sister; how came our servants

So bloudy?

Fer.

Agen. I prethee leave this fooling with my face,

I shall be angrie.

End.

I touch'd you not.

Rod.

Another wipe for for you.

Eth.

Some spirit sure:

I cannot containe laughter: what a raw head my servant has?

Fed.

Mine has the same complexion.

Rod.

Put me to keep the doore another time. I ha kept 'em honest, and now I will be visible agen.

Knock.

Fer.

Rodamant.

Rod.

Here: I was a sleep, but this noyse wak'd me.

Ha you done with the Ladies?

Open the doores.

Within. Enter Priest.

Pr.

We are undone, my Lords, the King is coming

In furie back againe, with full resolve

To break these images, his son is slaine,

And burnt to ashes since, in Milcho's house,

And he will be reveng'd upon the gods,

He sayes, that would not save his dearest son:

I feare he will turne Christian: Archimagus

Is under guard, and brought along to see

This execution done, no art can save you.

Eth.

We are lost too for ever, in our honours.

Leo.

Break downe the Temple doores.

Within.

Pr.

He's come already, we are all lost, Madam.

Fer.

Teare off these antick habits quickly, brother,

Doe you the same. More bloud upon our faces.

Oh, my Fedella, something may preserve us

To meet agen: Endarius, so, so: open.

Enter King, Archimagus, Guard. Ferochius, Endarius confidently meet the King.

Leo.

Ha! keep off, more horrours to affright me,

I must confesse I did command your deaths

Unjustly, now my son is murdor'd for it.

[Page]Fer.

Oh do not pull more wrath from heaven upon you.

Love innocence, the gods have thus reveng'd

In your sonnes tragedy: Draw not a greater

Vp on your self and this faire Iland, by

Threatning the temples, and the gods themselves,

Looke on them still with humble reverence,

Or greater punishments remaine for you

To suffer; and our ghosts shall never leave

To fright thy conscience, and with thousand stings

Afflict thy soule to madnesse and despaire:

Be patient yet and prosper, and let fall

Thy anger on the Christians, that else

Will poyson thy faire kingdome.

Kin.

Ha, Archimagus, canst thou forgive me,

And send those spirits hence?

Arc.

I can, great Sir,

You troubled Spirits, I command you leave

The much distracted King; returne and speedily,

To sleepe within the bosome of the sea,

Which the kings wrath, and your sad fates assign'd yee;

And as you move to your expecting monument

The waves agen, no frowne appeare upon you,

But glide away in peace.

End. Fer.

We do obey

Great Priest, and vanish.

Exeunt.

Eth.

Are they gone Fedella?

They talk of womans wit at a dead lift,

This was above our braines I love him for't

And wish my self i [...]'s armes now to reward him,

I should finde him no ghost a'my conscience:

But where shall we meete next.

Fed.

Let us away.

Exeunt▪

Kin.

Art sure they are gone Archimagus? my feares

So leave me, and religion once agen

Enter my stubborne heart, which dar'd to mutinie

And quarrell with the gods; Archimagus,

[Page]Be neere agen, we will redeeme our rashnesse,

By grubbing up these Christians, that begin

To infect us, and our kingdome.

Arc.

This becomes you,

And if you please to heare me, I dare promise

The speedy ruine of them all.

Kin.

Th'art borne

To make us happy, how my deere Archimagus?

Arc.

This Iland Sir is full of dangerous serpents,

Of toads, and other venomous destroyers:

I will from every province of this kingdome

Summon these killing creatures to devoure him,

My prayer and power of the gods, feare not,

Will doo't, by whom inspir'd I prophesie

Patricks destruction.

Kin.

I embracemy Priest,

Do this, and I'll forget my sonne, and die,

And smile to see this Christians tragedie.

Exeunt.

ACT. V.

Enter two Souldiers.

1 Sould.

So, so, we are like to have a fine time on't, we may get more by every Christian we have the grace to catch, than by three moneths pay against our naturall enemies.

2 Sould.

And th [...]ir noddles be so precious, would all my kindred were Christians; I would not leave a head to wag upon a shoulder of our generation, from my mothers sucking pig at her nipple, to my great grandfathers Coshering in the pease straw. How did that fellow looke whose throat we cut last?

1 Sould.

Basely, and like a Christian, would the fellow they call Patrick had been in his place, we had been made for ever.

[Page]2

Now are we of the condition of some great men in office, that desire execution of the Lawes, not so much to correct offences and reforme the common wealth, as to thrive by their punishment and grow rich and fat with a leane conscience. But I have walk'd, and talk'd my selfe a hungry, prethee open the secrets of thy knapsacke, before we build any more projects; lets see what store of belly timber we have. Good, very good Pagan food: sit downe and let our stomackes conferre a while.

Enter Rodamant.

Rod.

royal My love is rosted, she died of a burning feaver, & since poison wonot work upon me, I am resolv'd to looke out the most convenient tree in this wood to hang my self: And because I will be sure to hang without molestation or cutting downe, which is a disparagement to an able and willing body, I will hang invisible, that no body may see me, and interrupt my hempen meditations. But who are these? a brace of mankillers a mounching; now I think what a long journey I am going▪ as far as to another world, it were not a misse to take provision along with me▪ when I come to the tricke of hanging, I may weigh the better, and sooner be out of my paine: bracelet sticke to me, by your leave gentlemen, what's your ordinary?

1. Soul.

Who's that?

Rod.

A friend, my brace of Hungarians, one that is no souldier; but will justifie he has a stomacke in a just cause, and can sight [...]oth and naile, with any slesh that opposes me.

2. Sould.

I can see no body.

Rod.

I will knock your pate, fellow in armes, and to helpe you to see, open the eyes of your understanding, with a wooden instrument that I have.

1 Sould.

I see nothing but a voice, shall I strike it?

2 Sould.

No, 'tis some Spirit take heed and offend it no [...], I never knew any man strike the devill, but he put out his necke bone or his shoulder blade, let him alone, it may be the ghost of some usurer that kick'd up his heeles in a deare yeere; and died upon a surf [...]t of Shamroks and cheese parings.

Enter Emeria.

[Page]1 Sould.

Who's this, a woman alone?

2 Sould.

A [...]d handsome, what makes shee in this wood? wee'll divide.

1 Sould.

What the woman?

2 Sould.

No, I'll have her body, and thou shalt have her clothes.

Eme.

I know not where I am, this wood has lost me,

But I shall never more be worth the finding:

I was not wise to leave my fathers house,

For here I may be made a prey to rapine,

Or food to cruell beasts.

2 Sould.

No, you shall finde that we are men; what think you? which of us two have you most minde to laugh and lye downe withall.

Eme.

Protect me some good power, more ravishers.

2 Sould.

We are souldiers, and not us'd to complement, be not coy but answer.

1 Sould.

We are but two, you may soone make a choice.

Rod.

You shall finde that we be three, are you so hot?

1 Sould.

Come humble your self behinde that tree, or—

Eme.

Are you a man?

1 Sould.

Never doubt it, I have pass'd for a man in my dayes.

2 Sould.

Oh my skull.

1 Sould.

Whats the matter?

Eme.

Where shall I hide my self?

hides her self.

Rod.

Your Comrade will expect your company in the next ditch.

2 Souldier.

Are you good at that?

The second souldier strikes the first and Rodamant both.

1 Souldier.

What dost thou meane?

2 Souldier

What do I meane? what dost thou meane to beate my braines out?

1 Souldier.

I: hold, it is some Spirit, and we sight with the aire.

Rod.

Cannot a Mare come into the ground, but you must be leaping you stone horses.

2 Souldier.

My skull is as tender as a Mullipuffe.

1 Sould.

He has made a cullice of my sconce, hold deere friend.

2 So.

Has the devil no more wit then to take part against the flesh?

[Page]1

The Devill may have a minde to her himselse, let him ha her.

2

If I come back, let me be glib'd.

Exeunt reeling.

Rod.

Now Lady—what, is shee invisible too? Ha. Well, let her shift for her selfe, I have tam'd their concupiscence. Now to my businesse of hanging agen.

Enter Spirit.

I doe like none of these trees; the Devill is at my elbow now, I doe heare him whisper in mine eare, that any tree would serve, if I would but give my mind to't. Let me consider, what shall I get by hanging of my selfe, how it will be to no purpose, a halter will be but cast away, by your leave—I would not have you much out of the way, because here are trees that other men may hold convenient.—Oh, my wrist: 'Tis a spirit. Sweet Devill, you shall have it, the bracelet is at your service. Have I all my fingers? A pox on his fangs, now o▪my conscience I am visible agen, if the Souldiers should meet with me now, whom I have pounded, what case were I in? I feele a destillation, and would be heartily beaten to save my life.

Enter Conallus and Emeria.

Here's one, for ought I know, may be as dangerous: A pox of despaire that brought mehither to choose my gallowes; would I were at home in an embroydered clout.—I'll sneake this way.

Exit.

Em.

I am no ghost, but the same lost Emeria,

My Lord, you left me.

Con.

Did not the flames devoure thee.

Em.

I felt no flame, but that which my revenge

Did light me to, for my abused honour.

Con.

Oh say that word agen: Art thou reveng'd

Upon thy ravisher? It was a god,

Thou told'st me.

Em.

But he found the way to death:

And when I name him, you will either not

[Page]Beleeve me, or compassion of his wounds

Will make you print as many in my brest:

He was—

Con.

Say, feare not, wrong'd Emeria,

Can any heart find compassion for his death,

That murder'd the sweet peace of thy chaste bosome?

Oh never, I shall blesse that resolute hand,

That was so just, so pious; and when thou hast

Assur'd, that he which playd the Satyre with thee,

Is out o'th' world, and kill'd sufficiently,

(For he that robb'd thee hath deserv'd to dye,

To the extent of his wide sin) I'll kisse,

And take thee in mine armes, Emeria,

And lay thee up as precious to my love,

As when our vowes met, and our yeelding bosomes

Were witnesse to the contract of our hearts.

Em.

It was your brother Coribreus, Sir:

That name unties your promise.

Con.

Ha! my brother?

Sweet, let me pause a little, I am lost else.

Em.

I did not well to enlarge his sorrow thus:

Though I can hope no comfort in this world,

He might live happie, if I did not kill him,

With heaping griefe on griefe thus.

Con.

He is slaine then.

Em.

If you will, Sir, revenge his death, you must

Point your wrath here, and I will thank you for't;

Though you should be a day in killing me,

I should live so much longer to forgive you.

This weake hand did not tremble when it kill'd him,

And it came timely to prevent, I feare,

The second part of horrour he had meant

To act upon me.

Con.

Wo'd he had tooke my life,

When he assail'd thy chastitie, so thou

Hadst been preserv'd: I cannot help all this.

[Page]Did it not grieve thee he deserv'd to dye, hu?

Em.

I took no joy, Sir, in his Tragedie.

Con.

That done, thou sledst.

Em.

I left my fathers house,

And found no weight hung on my feet for giving

His lust the bloudy recompence.

Con.

Thou ar [...] happie:

The gods directed thee to fly, Emeria,

Thou hadst beene lost else with my brothers ashes,

And my deare mother, whom the hungry slames

Devour'd, soone after thy departure.

Em.

How?

Con.

I know not by what malice, or mis-fortune,

Thy fathers house was burn'd [...] and in it he

Did meet his funerall sire too, ha [...]? Emeria.

Enter S. Patrick, Queene, and Bard.

Ba.

Your companie's faire, but I'll leave you in a Wood, I could like your religion well; but those rules of sasting, prayer, and so much penance, will hardly sit my constitution.

Pat.

'Tis nothing to win heaven.

Ba.

But you doe not consider, that I shall loose my pension, my pension from the King▪ there's a businesse.

Qu.

Do not I leave more?

Ba.

I confesse it; and you will get losse by the bargaine; but you that have been used to hunger, and nothing to live upon, may make the better shift. The lesse you [...]at, you say, will make the soule fat; but I have [...] body wonot be used so: I must drinke, and goe warme, and make much of my voyce, I cannot doe good upon water and sallads, keep your [...]-drinke to your selves, I am a kind of foolish [...], P [...]ick, with us, wine and women are provocatives, long tables▪ and short graces are physicall, and in fashion. I'll take my leave▪ Madam, no Christian yet, as the world goes; perhaps hereafter, when my voyce is a wearie of mee, I may grow wearie of the world, and stoop to your ord▪na [...]ie, say my prayers, and think how to dye, when my living is taken from me, in the meane time

Sings.

[Page]I neither will lend, nor borrow,

Old age will be here to morrow,

'This pleasure we are made for,

When death comes all is paid for:

No matter what's the bill of fare,

I'll take my cup, I'll take no care.

Be wise, and say you bad warning,

To laugh is better than learning,

To weare no cloathes, not neat is.

But hunger is good where meat ù:

Gìve me wine, give me a wench,

And let her Parrot talke in French.

It is a match worth the making,

To keepe the merrie thought waking;

A song is better than fasting,

And sorrow's not worth the tasting,

Then keepe your braine light as you can,

An ounce of care will kill a man.

And so I take my leave.

Exit.

Con.

Ha! doe I see the Queene, Emeria?

Pat.

Alas, poore Bard, the flatteries of this world

Hath chain'd his sense: thus many selfe-loving natures,

Prison'd in mists and errours, cannot see

The way abroad that leads to happinesse,

Or truth, whose beamie hand should guide us in it.

What a poore value do men set of heaven?

Heaven, the perfection of all that can

Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,

Health, beautie, and all these not subject to

The waste of time; but in their height eternall,

Lost for a pension, or poore spot of earth,

Favour of greatnesse, or an houres faint pleasure:

As men, in scorne of a true flame that's neere,

Should run to light their taper at a glo-worne.

Con.

'Tis she, and the good Bishop Patrick with her.

Pat.

Madam, the Prince Conallus▪

[Page]Con.

Oh let me kneele to you, and then to Heaven,

That hath preserv'd you still to be my mother;

For I beleeve you are alive, the fire

Hath not defac'd this monument of sweetnesse.

Qu.

My blessing and my prayers be still my childs,

It was the goodnesse, son, of holy Patrick

That rescu'd me from those impris'ning flames

You speake of, his good Angell was our Conduct.

Con.

To him that can dispense such blessings, mother,

I must owe dutie, and thus kneeling, pay it:

May Angels still be neere you.

Pat.

Rise, Conall us:

My benediction on thee; be but what

Thy Mother is, a Christian, and a guard

Of Angels shall attend thee too; the fire

We walk'd upon secure▪ and which is greater,

Scap'd the immortall flames, in which black soules,

After their ill-spent lives, are bound to suffer.

Con.

Sir, you shall steere me, and my mothers blest

Example will become my imitation.

But there's a peece of silent miserie

Is worth your comfort, mother, and his counsell;

She is, I dare not name how much dishonour'd,

And should have b [...]ene the partner of my bosome,

Had not a cruell man forbid my happinesse,

And on that faire and innocent table powr'd

Poyson, above the Dragons bloud, or Vipers.

Em.

My humblest dutie, Madam

Pat.

Dicbu's Cell

Is not sar off, please you attend the Queene,

We are bent thicher.

Con.

Yes: and as we walk,

I'll tell you a sad storie of my brother

And this poore virgin.

Pat.

Come▪ I'll lead the way.

Qu.

With such a Guide we cannot feare to stray.

Exeunt.

[Page]Enter Ferochus and Endarius.

Fer.

Where are we yet Endarius?

En.

I cannot

Informe you more, then that we are in the wood still.

Fer.

And we are lost, our feare to die i'th sight

Of men, hath brought us hither with our blood

To quench the thirst of wolves: Or worse, to starve.

En.

We are in no feare to be apprehended

Where none inhabite.

Fer.

Now that lust is punish'd,

Which fed our hope, if we had staid i'th Temple

To have polluted it, with foule embraces:

How wearinesse, with travell, and some fasting

Will tame the flesh.

En.

Stay here's a cave.

Fer.

Take heede,

It may be a Lion, or a fierce wolves den;

How nature trembles at the thought of death:

Though it be prest downe, with the weight of life.

En.

I dare not enter, a new feare invades me.

Fer.

The worst is welcome, with our clamor, rouse

What ever doth inhabite here, or man

Or beast appeare, if any such dwell in

This Cave? We can meet charity or death.

Enter Dichu.

Dich.

What voice with so much passion calls me forth,

Ha? Be my protection good heaven:

My sonnes, my murder'd sonnes with gastly lookes,

And bruised limbes; why do you come to me thus

To fright my wither'd eyes? 'las I was innocent,

It was the King, not I commanded your

Vntimely death, I have wept for ye boyes,

And constantly before the Sun a wak'd,

When the cold dew drops full upon the ground▪

As if the morne were discontented too.

My naked feet o're many a rugged stone

[Page]Hath walk'd, to drop my teares into the seas,

For your sad memories.

Fer.

We are no spirits, but your living sons,

Preserv'd without the knowledge of the King,

By Archimagus, till a new mis-fortune

Compell d us hither to meet death, we feare,

In want of food.

Dic.

Are yee alive? come in,

It is no time to be inquisitive;

My blessing, I have something to refresh you,

Course fare, but such as will keep out sad famine:

Humble your selves and enter, my poore boyes,

You'll wonder at the change; but we to Heaven

Do climb with loads upon our shoulders borne,

Nor must we tread on roses, but on thorne.

Exeunt.

Enter S. Patrick, Queene, Conallus, Emeria.

Pat.

Now we approach the Hermit Dichu's Cell:

Are you not wearie, Madam?

Qu.

Not yet, Father,

In such religious company.

Pat.

You were not

Us'd to this travell; how does my new son,

And sweet Emeria?

Con.

I am blest on all sides.

Em.

You have quieted the tempest in my soule,

And in this holy peace I must be happie.

Pat.

You will be Spouse to an eternall Bridegroome,

And lay the sweet foundation of a rule,

That after ages, with devotion,

Shall praise and follow. You are, Sir, reserv'd

To blesse this Kingdome with your pious government,

Your Crowne shall flourish, and your bloud possesse

The Throne you shall leave glorious: This Nation

Shall in a faire succession thrive, and grow

Up the worlds Academie, and disperse,

As the rich spring of humane and divine

[Page]Knowledge, cleare streames to water forraine Kingdomes,

Which shall be proud to owe what they possesse

In learning, to this great all-nursing Iland.

Con.

May we be worthy of this prophesie.

Pat.

Discourse hath made the way lesse tedious,

We have reach'd the Cell already, which is much

Too narrow to containe us; but beneath

These trees, upon their coole and pleasing shades,

You may sit downe; I'll call upon my Convert:

Dichu, my Penitent, come forth, I pray,

And entertaine some guests I have brought hither,

That deserve welcome.

Enter Dichu.

Dic.

I obey that voyce.

Pat.

The Queene, and Prince, and Milcho's vertuous daughter

Gain'd to our holy faith.

Dic.

Let my knee speake

My dutie, though I want words for my joy,

Ten thousand welcomes; I have guests within too,

You'l wonder to salute my sons, not dead,

As we suppose, by heavenly providence,

I hope, reserv'd to be made blest by you,

They are here.

Enter Ferochus and Endacius.

Your duties to the Queene and Prince,

Then to this man, next to our great Preserver.

The Patron of us all.

Pat.

A happie meeting:

I must rejoyce to see you safe, and here:

But tell us by what strange meanes, all this while,

You have been preserv'd? Sit downe.

Soft Musick.

Con.

What musick's this?

Qu.

'Tis heavenly.

Pat.

And a preface to some message,

O [...] will of Heaven, be silent, and attend it:

Such harmony as this did wait upon

My Angell Victor, when he first appear'd,

And did reveale a treasure under ground,

[Page]With which I bought my freedome, when I kept

Unhappie Mil [...]ho's swine; Heavens will be done.

What, all asleep already? holy dreames

Possesse your faucie, I can wait no longer.

Enter Victor, and other Angels. Song,

Vict.

Downe from the skies,

Commanded by the Power that lies

The world and nature in a c [...]aine,

We come, we come, a glorious traine,

To wait on thee,

And make thy person danger [...]free:

Hearke whilst we sing,

And keep time with our golden wing,

To shew how earth and heaven agree,

What eccho rises to our harmo [...]ic.

Vict.

Holy Patrick, sleep in peace,

Whilst I thy Guardian, with these

My fellow Angels, wait on thee,

For thy desence: A troop, I see,

Of serpents, vipers, and what ere

Doth carrie killing poyson, here

Summon'd by Art, and power of hell;

But thou shalt soone their furie quell,

And by the strength of thy command,

These creatures shall forsake the Land,

And creep into the sea; no more

To live upon the Irish shore.

Once more then.

Song.

Patrick, sleep; oh sleep a while,

And wake the Patron of this Ile.

Enter King, Archimagus, and other Priests.

Arc.

Your person shall be safe; feare not, great Sir,

I have directed all their stings and poyson:

See where he sleeps, if he escape this danger,

Let my life, with some horrid circumstance,

End in this place, and carrie all your curses.

[Page]Enter Serpents, &c. creeping.

What think you of these creeping executioners?

Doe they not move, as if they knew their errand?

Kin.

My Queene! my son Conallus! Dicbu! ha!

And the still wandring ghosts of his two sons!

Arc.

They are alive, Sir.

Kin.

Ha, who durst abuse us?

Pr.

Will you not have compassion of the Queene,

And the Prince, Sir?

Kin.

How met they to converse?

Arc.

They are all Christian.

Kin.

Let the serpent then

Feed upon all, my powerfull Archimagus.

Pat.

In vaine is all your malice, Art, and power

Against their lives, whom the great hand of Heaven

Daines to protect; like wolves you undertake

A quarrell with the Moone, and waste your anger:

Nay, all the shafts your wrath directeth hither,

Are shot against a brazen arch, whose vault

Impenetrable, sends the arrowes back,

To print just wounds on your owne guiltie heads.

These serpents, (tame at first and innocent,

Untill mans great revolt from grace releas'd

Their dutie of creation) you have brought,

And arm'd against my life; all these can I

Approach, and without trembling, walk upon;

Play with their stings, which though to me not dangerous,

I could, to your destruction, turne upon

Your selves, and punish with too late repentance.

But you shall live, and what your malice meant,

My ruiue, I will turne to all your safeties,

And you shall witnesse: Hence, you frightfull monsters,

Go hide, and burie your deformed heads

For ever in the sea; from this time be

This Iland free from beasts of venomons natures:

The Shepherd shall not be afraid hereafter,

[Page]To trust his eyes with-sleep upon the hils;

The travellers shall haue no suspition,

Or feare, to measure with his wearied limbs

The silent shades; but walk through everie brake,

Without more guard than his owne innocence.

The verie earth and wood shall have this blessing

(Above what other Christian Nations boast)

Although transported where these Serpents live

And multiply, one touch shall soone destroy 'em.

Leo.

See how they all obey him, Archimagus.

Arc.

Confusion: All my Art is trampled on.

Can neither man, nor beast, nor Devill hurt him?

Support me, fellow-Priests; I sink, I feele

The ground bend with my weight upon it, ha!

The earth is loose in the foundation,

And something heavie as the world doth hang

Upon my feet, and weigh me to the Center.

A sire, a dreadfull fire is underneath me,

And all those fiends that were my servants here,

Look like tormentors, and all seeme to strive,

Who first shall catch my falling flesh upon

Their burning pikes: There is a power above

Our gods, I see too late. I fall, I fall,

And in my last despaire, I curse you all.

Sinks.

Kin.

Patrick, the King will kneele to thee.

Pat.

Oh rise,

And pay to Heaven that dutie.

Kin.

Canst forgive?

Let me embrace you all, and freely give

What I desire from this good man, a pardon.

Thou shalt no more suspect me but possesse

All thy desires. The ground is shut agen:

Where now is Archimagus? How I shake,

And court this Christian out of feare, not love?

Once more visit our Palace, holy Father.

The storie of your sons, and what concernes

[Page]Your escape, Madam, we will know hereafter;

I'th' mean time be secure.

End. Fer.

We are your creatures.

Omnes.

Our prayers and duty.

Pat.

I suspect him stil;

But feare not, our good Angels still are neer us:

Death at the last can but untie our frailty;

'Twere happy for our holy faith to bleed,

The Blood of Martyrs is the Churches seed.

Exeunt Omnes.

The Epilogue.

HOw e're the Dyce run Gentlemen, I am

The last man borne, still at the Irish game:

What say you to the Epilogue? may not I stay,

And boldly aske your Verdict of the Play?

I would report the Sun-shine on your brow,

And the soft language of the Dye t'allow

Our labour and your Story, native knowne;

It is but justice to affect your owne;

Yet this is but a part of what our Muse

Intends, if the first birth you nobly use:

Then give us your free votes, and let us stile

You Patrons of the Play, him of the Ile.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

St. Patrick for Ireland. The first part. Written by Iames Shirley

Shirley, James, 1596-1666.

Edition statement

1640

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A12151

ID [STC]

STC 22455

ID [STC]

ESTC S117360

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99852574

ID [PROQUEST]

99852574

ID [VID]

17900

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A12151)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 17900)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1394:20)

Source

— St. Patrick for Ireland. The first part. Written by Iames Shirley, Shirley, James, 1596-1666..

Extent

[72] p.

Printed by I. Raworth, for R. Whitaker,. London :: 1640.. (Partly in verse.) (Signatures: A-I⁴.) (No more published.) (Reproduction of the original in the Central Library (Bristol, Eng.).)

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