I Do Appoint Thomas Parkhurst, Dorman Newman, Thomas Cockerill, and Thomas Simmons, to Print this Excommunicated Prince, &c. A Tragedy, and that no other Print the same.
July 16. 1679.
WILLIAM BEDLOE▪
THE Excommunicated PRINCE: OR, The False Relique. A TRAGEDY. As it was ACTED BY His Holiness's Servants.
Being the Popish PLOT in a PLAY.
By Capt. WILLIAM BEDLOE.
LONDON: Printed for Tho. Parkhurst, D. Newman, Tho. Cockerill, and Tho. Simmons, 1679.
TO HIS GRACE GEORGE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, &c.
May it please your Grace,
IF Art, Wit, and Ingenuity, be Accomplishments no less than Illustrious, even in the meanest Pedant, advancing him to the embraces of Men of Dignity in the world; then how much more do these Oriental Gemms send forth their luster when rightly set within the highest Nobility? Such splendid men cannot be supposed to cultivate barren Nature by unwearied industry to make it bloom and bear such honourable Endowments only (if at all) to make a Trade of Art and Wit, or to use Ingenuity upon a Principle of meer necessity, thereby to advance a Livelyhood. 'Tis not a little crediting to those whose Birth hath placed them among the most ignoble and mean, to bestow their Time and Life upon the good use and wise improvement of the intellectual and reasoning faculty, if so be their design [Page] tend to the lawful Pleasure, or necessary Profit of Mankind; but certainly, Art, Wit, and Ingenuity, can never be more magnificent, than where they are the off-spring of pure choice, and where there is enough of the world to tempt the Owner to other Divertisements, and such as much more gratifie or humour the Animal Life, that which Sense and the lower appetite doth much more incline unto. I am confident that these Excellencies which I have been magnifying, are truly the Character of your Grace, and here I doubt not to obtain the Votes of all experienced and impartial men to the truth of what I affirm. It's true, that in some other cases. your Grace hath sometimes been bespattered by evil tongues, and confronted by malign endeavours; but here it hath been your Glory to be vindicated by the Justice of the Nation, which by a small inspection into these mens Lives and Actions, hath placed them in the number of the most treacherous and vile, and so hath brought your Glory and Innocence from under the obscuring Cloud, without your own seeking: This hath tended much to your Greatning in the esteem of all those whose sobriety and consideration hath made them valuable.
Let it be also observed, That your Grace hath well demonstrated your Religious Principles to be hearty and devout towards the Church of England, and therein with great zeal displaid your Loyalty towards His Majesty, by your constant encouraging the discovery of this late Damnable Popish Plot, which designed to cut off our Soveraign, and so our Church at one stroke. These things laid together, must needs [Page] render your Grace the most fit Judg and best Patron of what may in the least pretend to Art, Wit, or Ingenuity, of what also refers to an abused Prince under all his Dangers and Sufferings; and in the last place, of what belongs to the Intrigues and Malignity of cunning and desperate Plotters. I do therefore most humbly present what ensues, to your Graces perusal and acceptance, begging leave to be ever,
Your Grace's most humble, most obliged, and most obedient Servant, WILLIAM BEDLOE.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
- TEimurazez, Prince of Georgia, Excommunicated by the Pope.
- Morinus, Brizander, Friends to the Prince, and Zealous for the establish't Religion and Government.
- Salvirus, Another of the Prince's Friends, poyson'd by Zolazer.
- Piazer, A Divine of the Grecian Church: A fierce Preacher and Writer against the Papists, most unmercifully Murther'd by some of the Conspirators.
- Polidorus, General of the Prince's Forces, who by the instigation of the Pope, Conspires the Prince's Death, and the Subversion of the Grecian Religion: For the better carrying on of this Design, he insinuates himself into the favour and good opinion of Teimurazez, pretending to be of the Grecian Church, though really he's of none at all.
- Zolazer, Governor of the Tower, a disguis'd Papist, another of the Pope's creatures.
- Miletas, At first one of the Conspirators, but travelling into England, was there converted to the Protestant Religion; and afterwards returning to Georgia, discovered the whole Conspiracy.
- Pedro, Servant to Miletas.
- Dubois, Lucan, Tyrone, Lumbus, Jesuits employ'd by the Pope to propagate the Popish Religion in Georgia, and to whose care the pretended Relique of Queen Ceteba was committed.
- [Page] Ceteba, Queen Dowager of Georgia, an Amcrous old Woman▪ in love with Polidorus, and in hopes of obliging him, is a great furtherer of the Conspiracy against her Son.
- Maada, Maid of Honour to the Queen, and taken prisoner with her.
- Cosmelia, Known for some time by the name of Melanthus; She was Wife to Miletas, in whose absence Polidorus intic'd her to be his Miss; and afterwards growing weary of her, forceth her to serve him in a mans habit.
With Guards, Soldiers, Attendants, several diseas'd persons, and strangers which came to see the Reliques.
The Scene is Cremen in Georgia.
THE PROLOGUE.
THough Limners in a face the Prospect see
Of Nature, varying in deformity;
The biass'd Pencil can new-mould the frame,
And set to Venus picture any Name.
Had the Pope brib'd me well, I'd done so too,
Not speak the truth so plain as now I do:
Faith, I'd a friend propos'd it to a Priest,
And did advise him that he'd grease my Fist.
He did at the propasal smile, and say,
That humour had more wit than all my Play.
But he has found a cheaper way than that,
He'l swear by all the Saints 'tis a meer cheat.
Like the feign'd Book of Martyrs; and a blot,
False as the story of the Powder-Plot.
So th' Sexton swore his Clock did never lye,
What e're the Sun said to the contrary.
THE Excommunicated Prince. A TRAGEDY.
ACT I. SCENE I.
Polidorus Solus.
I'Ve so long worn a borrow'd Shape, that now
Deception is the only thing I know.
Tracing Religions various Paths, I find
Profit's the Centre whither they're inclin'd.
But did I fear, Heav'n should my Actions know,
I'd Cheat the Devil, and 'scape his Clutches too.
Those who would thrive in State, must bravely shun
Those Narrow Paths, where Vertue sneaks alone;
And prove new, wilder Wayes: Religion there,
Is but Designe; what ere it is else-where.
But yet that dark and jugg'ling Mystery,
Must to a Crown, my Grave procurer be:
Nor can the Queen an idle Agent prove,
Whose doting Passion to that heighth does move;
She'll put off Nature, to promote her Love,
And Kill her Son.—
Tho one would think, she was so parch't with Age,
That Cupid could not pierce with all his Rage.
Enter Queen, having the Excommunication in her Hand.
Oh, here she comes! whom I must gently sooth;
And with soft Praise, her Aged Wrinkles smooth:
But know not which the hardest Task will prove,
For me to feign, or she to hide her Love.
Glory of Queens!
[Saluting her Hand.
I pay this Tribute to your sacred Hand,
And my dear Love to your best Faith Commend.
Queen.
[Page 2]With too much Ceremony, Sir, we greet:
Kiss a dull Hand, that cannot tast the Sweet!
Loves Vot'ries no such foolish State allow;
Love finds all Equal, or else makes 'em so.
Polidorus.
Excuse the awfull Distance, which I may
Yet as a Subject, to my Sov'reign pay.
When you Present me Teimurazez Crown,
Then may our Bodies, as our Minds, be one;
And we may Love securely, when he's gone.
Queen.
Name that no more! But think the Business done!
Yes! I am resolv'd,—tho he were thrice my Son.
His Short-lif'd-State, with the next Sun shall Set;
Nor can we fear, that he will rise with it.
E're in these Arms, our Joyes their Heighth commence,
These Arms,—
Which fondly lull'd his Infant Innocence,
Now, as gladly, will Conduct him to his Fate;
For, since by th' Mother-Church—
Since by this Paper he's Condemn'd to Dye,
[Shewing the Excommunication.
A Mother's Love would Irreligious be.
Besides, my Passion greater Things would do
T'oblige Heav'n, my Self, and what's more, You.
'Tis true, he is my only Son, tho he
Has Cancell'd Nature by's Apostasie.
But yet we need not want of Issue fear;
For, surely, I am Young enough to Bear:
What do you think, my Lord?
Polidorus.
—By Jove! I thought,
Aside.
Forty Years since, she had her Sex forgot.
Madam, the Number of your Years, alone,
Are through the Opticks of your Reason known:
As if you, God-like, were allow'd to be
Beyond the Reach of Times Artillery.
I do my future Heav'n anticipate,
In the Compendium of your Arms;—
Where all the Pleasures of both Worlds do meet.
Beauty's Perfection sits Enthron'd in you;
The Architype of Art and Nature too.
Enter Teimurazez, Morinus, Salvirius, and Brizander.
Teimurazez.
All Worldly Greatness constant Tempests drive;
And as in Raging Seas, do Monarchs live.
This Globe we strive for, is a prickly Ball;
Fortune has couzen'd Fools to play with all:
With lab'ring Pain the Game is gain'd and lost,
And they're least Happy, who do win the most.
I do not covet any Neighbours Crown;
Yet I'm resolv'd, I will secure my own.
[Page 3] Nor all the Thunder, that fierce Bull doe's bear,
[Pointing to the Excommunication in the Queens Hand.
Can make my Reason stoop to servile Fear:
And ere (Proud Rome!) I'le to thy Idol bow,
He shall Kiss mine, as other Slaves his, Toe!
Queen. [Shewing the Excommunication.
Then will not this? To seek a Son I'le go
To some dark Place, which Nature never saw.
I've yet too much a Careful Mother bin;
And with these Tears, I fear, increast your Sin.
[Pretending to Weep.
Had not I mixt my Reasons with my Tears,
And tyer'd Heav'n, and You, with busie Pray'rs;
This strong Resistance then less strange would be;
And more Excusable to Heav'n, and Me.
Teimurazez.
'Cause from your Breasts, I my frail Passions drew,
Would you fain ruin what's Immortal too.
Madam! Seek not to rack me thus anew,
Who am already so much lost in you:
The Roman-Beast has Rob'd me of your Heart,
Or raz'd out Nature's Image from that Part;
Gasping and Cold beneath his Venom'd Dart.
Your Looks, methinks, such a new Strangeness wear,
I cannot read one Glimps of Mother there!
Queen.
So much a Mothers Grief for you I know,
I wish (ye Gods!) I never had been so.
But Read this Paper!—My Hearts Winding-Sheet:
[Giving the Excommunication to Polidorus.
Whil'st I beg Heav'n, it may Convert him yet;
Whil'st I beg Heav'n, its Venge'nce may be quick,
That I may be—
No longer Mother to an Heretick.
But yet, methinks, there's a more urgent Cause,
Aside.
Than meer Religion, forcing Nature's Laws:
Here different Passions to one End do move;
I Hate my Son, 'cause Polidore I Love.
Exit Queen.
Polidorus Reads as followeth:
The Declaratory Sentence of Pope Paul the Fifth, against Teimurazez, the pretended Prince of Georgia, and all those who take his Part.
PAul, the Servant of, &c. Being mov'd by the Impieties, which grow dayly more Intollerable by the Means and Working of Teimurazez, the pretended and unlawful Prince of Georgia; we have by Necessity, taken our Selves to the Weapons of Justice: And, being [Page 4] strengthned by his Authority, who was pleas'd to seat us in this Supream Throne, we do by the Fulness of our Apostolical Power, declare the afore-said Teimurazez, an Heretick; and likewise, those who have taken his Part, to incur the Sentence of Anathema. And moreover, that he is depriv'd of the Right of his said Kingdom; and from all Rule, Dignity, and Pre-eminency, whatsoever: And also, his Nobility, Subjects, and People of the said Realm; and all others, that have Sworn unto him upon any account, are Absolv'd for ever from such Oaths; and from all Duty of Empire, Fidelity, Obedience, in such sort, as we do Absolve 'em by the Authority of these Presents. And we do command and forbid all, and singular of the Nobility, and his other Subjects, that they presume not to obey his Admonitions, Commands, or Laws: and whosoever shall do otherwise, we do involve them in the like Curse.
Given at Rome, at St. Peters, Anno Domini, 1614. And in the Tenth Year of our Papacy.
Teimurazez. Jove,
Canst thou suffer this? Or, Has he stol'n away
Thy Thunder? Then take heed of thy own Godhead:
For if this Tyrant's Rage, thus Kings pursues,
Sure Thee for the next Sacrifice he'll chuse.
Proud Priest! What means such Insolence? Is this
Th' Humility thy Title promises?
Thou hast forgot to stile thy Self, The Poor
And Humble Vassel of the Emperour.
Such sordid Vapours, if they chance to rise
As Comets, from a Dung-hill to the Skies,
They with their Blaze the higher Orbs offend,
And th' Fall of States imperiously portend.
Salvirus.
'Twas some Infernal Gulph disgorg'd this Fury;
Whose poys'nous Pride has swell'd him to that Greatness,
That he must either spue it up, or burst.
Morinus.
But dares this Basilisk, thus frown on Kings,
To blast 'em with its Malignant Influence?
Is not their Power on Earth the most Supream?
Or, Is the Bishop's Chair,
Lately Converted to a Monarch's Throne?
Why thrusts he his Sickle into your Harvest?
Is it an Act of Holiness, to set your Kingdom
On fire, by Seditions flaming Brands?
But was You, as he terms you, an Heretick;
Must he be at once both Judge, and Plaintiff?
Or, why produc'd he not some Antient Cannon,
Imposing such a Penalty on Sinners,
That they of Sov'reigns, must become his Vassals?
[Page 5] Do any of the Fathers encourage him,
Thus against Princes, to uncase his Thunder-Bolts?
Knows he not the Date of this Papal Power,
And th' Homage they antiently payd their Emperors;
At whose Beck they humbly held their Miters?
And paid at their Investiture, a certain Tribute,
Which was first Releas'd by Confcantine, to Pope Agatho.
Brizander.
Was n't Gregory the Seventh, the first Cyclop,
Who forg'd these Papal Fulminations?
And after the Gregorian Troubles,
When th'impov'risht Empire grew almost Breathless;
Then the Rebellious Bishop crept into that Greatness,
Which Strength and Policy have yet continu'd.
Prince.
What Corner of the Christian, or the Heath'nish World,
Is ignorant of this? Is not History
Glutted with Black Instances of this Nature?
How common is it, under the Pretence of Holiness,
To Arm ev'n Pagans against Protestant-Princes?
Nay, VVas not the Pope
The Cause of our late Wars with Persia?
Nor am I yet secure, from some New-born Jealousies,
Has whisper'd amongst those Credulous Infidels.
Morinus.
And, Sir, believe it, in your own Kingdom too.
Polidorus.
For to maintain his Usurp'd Right, the Pope
May seem concern'd, but can no conquest Hope.
Your Subjects Loyalty so well is known,
He cannot think to Corrupt those,—
Whose Hearts are more their Prince's, than their own.
When the glad Croud did to the Forums thrust,
Each striving who should swear Allegiance first;
I saw non's Conscience strugling in the Face,
No one stood trembling to dispute the Case:
But so much Pleasure in Obedience took,
Their Hearts came to their Lips, to Kiss the Book.
Then let's not fear, United thus at Home,
The Persian-Deity, or that of Rome.
Salvirus.
Who may not Treason in this Language see,
And that too daub'd with fulsome Flattery?
Aside.
'Tis strange our Judgments thus should disagree,
To Pol.
Yet both tend to one Centre, Loyalty.
But by your Royal Leave, I'le be as brief, as free:
To Teim.
No Depos'd Prince, where Popish Subjects are,
Is in the mid'st of his own Guards, secure.
Any curst Villain, may with Ease become
Master of his Life, b'ing careless of his own.
Then for the most obliging Oaths they take,
At their own Pleasures, don't they give 'em back?
[Page 6] They last no longer, than a Syrian Flow'r,
That's born, and vanishes in the same Hour.
So does the Dev'l, now shining like a Saint;
In the next Scene, wash off the Water-paint:
These are my Thoughts.—
Morinus.
—Exceeding Good and Brief.
Polidorus.
Yet not so short, as is his Thread of Life.
[Aside.
Prince.
'Tis Councel-time; and I must now desire
Each on's Opinion in this Grand Affair:
For since my Reign, no Subject did afford
More Ample Matter for a Council-Board.
Morinus.
Unhappy Prince! I see, 'twill be his Fate,
Amongst his Councellors, his Death to meet.
Those Traytors sure, can never miss their Ends,
Who can perswade their Prince, to think 'em Friends:
Ev'n they must teach him, to believe me too;
Tho not, Alas, till they have giv'n the Blow.
Finis Actus Primi.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Polidorus Solus. Having newly Read a Letter he received from the Pope.
SUre Heav'ns Exchequer, must needs Banckrupt be;
For all its Treasures are bestow'd on me.
Its easie Pow'rs to my Desires submit,
And seem to lay their Heaven at my Feet.
And Rome it self, drest me in this Disguise,
That undiscern'd, I might to Scepters rise.
The Grecian-Churches Viz'rd, I must wear;
And like an Imp of Hell, in Robes of Light appear.
Scatt'ring, in Private, various Plagues abroad;
And unseen Toils, I spread in ev'ry Road.
That sneaking Vertue, Loyalty—
Shall at my Feet a Bloody Victim fall;
And the False King, no longer King I'le call.
He, and his Gang, shall throng the Shades below:
And them the Road, with Bloody Paths, I'll shew.
I'll tyre the Destinies, and dispatch more,
Than Charon's Lab'ring Boat can well waft o're.
[Page 7] Then may Religious Fools securely pay
Honours to Heaven, and Rewards to Me.
Enter Zolazer, Dubois, Lumbus, Tyrone, and Lucan.
Thus Happy Angels at a Wish appear!
Zolazer.
Hail, most Mighty Polidore!
Dubois.
Hail Rome's great Hopes, and only Favourite!
Tyrone.
Hail Noble Sir! and Hail ye Glorious Train!
Which for your Safety, careful Heav'n maintain!
Each Guardian there, will interpose a Shield;
And on our Foe's crusht Neck, our Empire build.
Zol.
Saw you the Prince, since he is Sentence read?
[To Polidore.
Does he retain the Shape, and Form he had?
Polidorus.
But now I from his open Bosom came,
And saw it wounded at the Pope's dread Name:
Fear and Revenge his Thoughts at once did bear;
He fears Assaults, and yet disdains to fear.
Lumbus.
Methinks, I see the depos'd Monster dead,
And the Crown Flourish on your Royal Head.
Polidorus.
Last Night I dream'd, (as he took up and read
The fatal Paper, in his Passage laid)
From his loath'd Head, the Crown came tott'ring down,
Whil'st his weak Hand could hardly hold it on.
Orewhelm'd with Fear, methought I saw him stand;
And's Scepter grew too weighty for his Hand.
Lucan.
After his Death, we'll this Report for true;
And th' Ignorant Croud will soon believe it so.
Polid.
Whil'st with both Hands, he prest it to his Head,
Th' inchanted Gem in 'Thousand pieces fled:
At which, methought, the frighten'd Prince fell dead.
Then of bright Spirits, came a numerous Train;
Who gath'ring up the scatter'd Parts again,
Artfully reunite the shatter'd Crown,
And adds a Thousand Jewels of their own:
Then, with just Ceremony, Crown'd my Head;
And having sung an Heavenly Anthem, fled.
At this I 'woke; and when I cast my Eye
Towards that part I dream'd the Vision lay,
I saw my Page, who with this Letter came;
VVhich at first Reading, did explain my Dream.
[Page 8] He gives the Letter to Zolazer, who Reads it as followeth:
Pope Paul the Fifth, to the Lord Polidore.
BElov'd Son! Salutation, and Apostolical Benediction, &c.—Having taken into our Consideration, the late Cruelties inflicted on our Catholicks at Georgia; particularly, that unlawful Oath, of paying Allegiance to an Heretick Prince. We have therefore not only Issu'd out our Excommunication against Teimurazez, but do likewise (in requital of your undoubted Loyalty, and many other Christian Vertues) use our utmost int'rest, to place you in his Throne.
Zolazer.
Thus doe's just Heav'n Heroick Actions bless!
Polidorus.
—It could not give me more.
Dubois.
—Nor did you merit less.
And that our Excommunication may not pass unattended by a suddain Omen, the Persians (by our Insinuation, being rais'd to an higher Resentment of the late Injuries offer'd them) are resolv'd, within these few dayes, to visit Teimurazez; and are sworn by their great Prophet, not to return without his Head. Nor does this Province seem so difficult, if we consider the profound Security the Prince is now in; sleeping, and dreaming of no such violent Blow: And that the most considerable part of his Army, is at present, at Altuncula. Now, I need not advise you, how to manage your self in this Interval; whether to secure your self by Absence, or a pretended Fit of Sickness, till this hazardous Storm be over-past. And when you find the Throne empty, you need not fear to Ascend it, in the Right of our well-belov'd Daughter, Queen Ceteba; who I understand, is by Contract, already your Wife. It is our Will, That this Epistle be Communicated to all Faithful Sons; particularly, to Zolazer, Dubois, Lucan, Lumbus, and Tyrone.
Farewel. Given under our Signet at Rome, Anno Domini 1614. And in the Tenth Year of our Papacy.
Zolazer.
Who would not think, by this Sublimer Strain,
Ceast Oracles had found their Tongues again?
Polidorus.
As long toss'd Ships in Sight of Harbour come,
We want but one kind Gale to blow us Home:
[Page 9] And Fortune seems to beg this short Delay,
To reckon what vast Sums she is to pay.
We need no more poorly depend on Fate;
But Wealth and Honours, as our Slaves shall wait.
This Office his, Another's that; and all
The Church Revenues to your Shares will fall.
[To the Jesuits.
Have you a Friend, you would promote? A Foe,
You would Revenge? the only time is now.
Is there a Famous Beauty, you would woe?
Let the glad Father, or kind Husband know;
They'll boast the Honour of procuring her for you.
Lucan.
We need not then in these strange Shapes appear.
Wear others Looks, or speak in Character:
Nor need we then, like patient Anglers wait,
'Till th'Squeamish Conscience please to take the Bait.
But to our Wears, thousands at once we'll force,
Cull out the Ripe,—
And send the Fry to our own Pools to Nurse.
Polidorus.
But what great Things, Zolazer, have you done,
[To Zol.
Since you've Govern'd Georgia's Garrison?
It is the greatest Trust I could bestow;
And an Employment only fit for you:
It does, at least, Ten thousand Arms-contain;
Which I designe, shall be our Magazine.
And do expect, that ev'ry Souldier shall▪
Honour their Prince, less than their General.
Zolazer.
Of those two Thousand Souldiers I have there,
Eightscore already of our Party are▪
No'ne shall the Offers I propose refuse,
I will such Crafts and Subtil Methods use.
Those Souldiers which most likely seem, I'll try;
Which if the least unwilling to Comply,
They soon shall by some private Torture dye.
Polidorus.
Were there in all, one Thousand Faithful found,
Better than Millions we suspect unsound.
One Stragler's Wildeness all the Herd misleads;
One Houses Plague, through a whole Kingdom spreads:
And one that's False, may like small Fire unknown,
Spread its destructive Flames through the whole Town.
Zolazer.
Let me desire, this prove no more your Care;
But of th'Event, a good Opinion bear.
I've seen all Countries, can all Humours guess:
And th'Saints ne'r yet deny'd my Plot's Success.
What flatt'ring Language can't, this Sword shall do:
Pointing to his Sword.
'Tas cut down Thousands, yet no'ne heard the Blow.
I'll Kill with Poyson, yet the Cause conceal;
And's Death, by which I merit Heav'n, bewail.
[Page 10] These forty Years, unseen as Night, I've gone
Through snaky Ways; and more strange Shapes put on,
Than Proteus could, with all his Witchcraft guess,
Or Ovid gave his Metamorphosis.
And when our Plot is to a Ripeness grown,
Rome must confess, She never yet has known
So Rich a Conquest, and so Cheap a One.
Tyrone.
Th'first Year I did to Artaxissa come,
(Where I a grave Physicians Garb put on)
At least Five hund'red Proselytes I gain'd,
And done what Poets hardly could have feign'd.
A Pestilential Feaver raging there,
Which only I did then pretend to Cure:
Those who would turn, and to our Pictures fall,
I Rais'd again, as by a Miracle.
But Poyson was the Physick I did use,
To purge away their Souls, which did my Charms refuse.
So Hereticks did in such number Dye,
That Death grew weary of the Slavery:
And Charon's Self, sate sweating at his Oar,
Needing a Fleet to waft my Patients o're.
Lumbus.
My Conquests in Vasada are well known;
Both Armastic' and Lybium are grown
More supple far: I've taught 'em, by Degrees,
To touch our Beads, and look on Images.
Dubois.
What need I boast? But should I strive to shew
Those Deeds twice sixteen Winters saw me do,
You would grow Old with hearing me, and Death,
E're I'd half told you, would demand my Breath.
The Furies were my Slaves, who surely strook
Thousands of Rebels, when my Looks but spoke.
And should I when I Dye,—
For each I Kill'd, a Marble-Pillar have,
You might walk up to Heaven on my Grave.
Witchcraft I study'd, and all Poysons too,
Whose Use, as well as Nature's self, I know▪
Augures, who 'f Lives and Deaths could less Divine,
May come and harden their soft Hearts by mine.
Did n't the late King, three Brothers, and one Son,
Fall by my Art?
Lucan.
But Teimurazez is Immortal grown:
Those Poysons which did do their Business, are
To him Familiar, as his other Fare.
A thousand Snares I for his Life have lay'd,
But some Ev'l Spirit, ev'n my Thoughts betray'd.
Let Mirabilians keep no more adoe,
His Life's the only Miracle I know.
Dubois.
[Page 11]Georgia did know no Catholick, before
I with the Queen, Converted thousands more.
Her Love for You, my Praises did Inspire;
I first did Kindle, and then Blow'd the Fire.
By me, you Hopes are almost certain grown;
For one un-King'd lies dying in your Throne.
Polidorus.
The Gods came short of each of you, when they
Were Candidates for Immortality.
And on your Merits such high Price I lay,
That only those Impartial Pow'rs can pay.
There is heard from Without, the Sound of Trumpets, and Beating of Drums. Enter Souldier.
Souldier.
To Arms! To Arms! The Persins are—To Arms!
Polidorus.
What makes this Fool fright us with false Alarms!
Enter Brizander
Brizander.
Hell is broke loose! and all its Dev'ls appear
In Persian Shapes, to bring their Torments here!
They to our Walls, on Wings of Light'ning flye:
Whil'st th'wounded Air, toucht with a Sympathy,
In Groans of Thunder, bode our Destiny.
Enter another Souldier.
Souldier.
To Arms! To Arms! They the South-Gate Attack!
But th'Prince in Person, bravely beats 'em back!
Polidorus.
Curse on their Ha [...]t! 'Tis such a quick Surprize,
I have no time to put on a Disguise.
But since I must appear in Fight, I'll stand
Beyond the reach of Dangers Bloody Hand!
Brizander.
Ye Gods, give Fortune now her Eyes, that she
May see to lead us on to Victory.
Let's not [...]ise Fears, to fight with too; but shew
What Courage armed by Despair, can do.
SCENE II.
Enter Ceteba and Maacla.
Queen.
BRave Nero, may thy Soul my Breast inspire!
Whose sacred Harp sang Praises to Rome's Fire!
Whil'st Buildings in the Sky, like Meteors throng,
And danc't Levoltoes to thy Charming Song.
[Page 12] That Childish thing, we Human Nature call,
Pity, Compassion, things we fool withall,
Are giv'n us as our Rayment, or our Food,
To use, or lay aside, as we think good.
That must be Lawful, which does Profit bring;
Cruelty's but a Name, there's no such thing.
What? Tho I see my Country over-thrown,
And its curst Her'tick Prince, (no more my Son)
Sinck in its Ruin: Tho each Persians Hand
Were a Death's-Head, t'un-people this Curst Land,
And I the Cause; tho Georgia should prove
(Dear Polidore) a Victim to our Love;
Must I be thought Unnatural, or Severe,
Because I only of my Self, and Thee, take care?
No, even Nature justifies me here.
Self-Int'rest, and Self-Preservation,
Is th'only Law of Nature I can own:
That only Just, un-alterable One.
I care not, tho th'whole VVorld to Chaos fall,
So we survive the Mighty Funeral;
And force from thence a better Progeny:
Deucalion you, and Phyrra I will be.
Maacla.
Juno could neither Do, nor Speak, like You,
VVhen her keen Rage did Hercules pursue.
Your Courage Polidore's Affection moves;
That, next your Beauty, and your VVit, he loves.
Queen.
Courage belongs to Man; and b'ing above
Our Sex, their Envy raises, not their Love.
It is not that I Conquer him withal:
No, I dare swear, he thinks me Beautiful.
[She looks in the Glass.
How does this Face become me, Girle? Look here!
Does not this VVrincle th'row the Case appear?
The Fucus was not well laid on; nor is
It VVhite enough.—
Maacla.
—I see, it is amiss.
[Taking the Pencil, and mends it.
The Sun has to the Ceruse giv'n a Taint.
Ceteba.
To Morrow we shall have another Paint,
Far Richer, and more lasting.—Prethee view:
[Looking in the Glass.
Nay, Don't I look as Clear, and Young, as thou?
My Palsie, and my Gout, no longer rage;
And, I believe, Medea has renew'd my Age.
I justly may mistrust my Memory,
VVhich says, These Eyes did threescore Winters see.
Maacla.
Each Feature does a fair Narcissus wear:
And gaze not on that Mirrour long, for fear
It should reflect Sparkles of your Beauties Fire;
And like to him, you in Self-Love expire.
Venus
[Page 13]did but a Tauny-Gypsie shew,
Dirty, and Sun-burnt, when compar'd with You.
She pines with Grief, seeing You Shine more clear;
And Mars Your Charms, before all Hers, prefer.
Ceteba. [Breathing into Maacla's Mouth.
Girle! Smell my Breath! How does it Scent to Day?
I hope, the Dentifrice has ta'ne away,
The Hogoe those few Teeth I've left, did—
Maacla.
—Excellent well!
Odours, chaft by the Sun, less Fragrant smell:
And on your Balmy Lips, both Indies dwell.
I mean, this Carrion smell, which I endure,
Arabia can't, with all its Spices, cure.
Aside:
Nor can she of her Form, too Curious be,
Who'ld hold the Heart of Polidorus; He
To Heav'ns bright battlements, his Glories raise;
And strikes the Stars, 'till each rebounds his Praise.
Thrice Happy Queen, in his Embraces! who
Is more a God than Cupid; and can do,
More with one Glance of his All-conquering Eye,
Than all the Shafts of that Blind Deity.
Ceteba.
Thou'st spoken well; and I believe thy Mind:
Thou shalt Rewards, great as thy Merits, find.
In the first Place, an Husband we'll procure;
A Doctor, that shall thy Green-sickness Cure.
What think'st thou of Melanthus?
Maacla.
Melanthus! Force me first to dwell
In a Nun'rys Cloyster'd Cell:
Where the Sight of some Old Priest
Once a Month, would be a Feast.
I loath that shame-face't, Beardless Thing;
A lazy Drone, without a Sting:
One, a Feaver cannot warm,
Nor flaming Poyson work upon.
At first, I sent my Choicest Charms,
To bring him fetter'd to my Arms:
Muster'd all our Female Arts,
Our ay'ry Gins, and Traps for Hearts;
Breasts, where Love in Ambush lies;
Killing Looks, and Dying Eyes.
But nought could make his Nature yield;
'Tis frozen to an Icy Shield.
Grief in his Heart, such Root has took,
'Tis mixt with ev'ry Word and Look:
Which his fierce Sighs through the Air do strew,
And into Storms, and Tempests blow.
Ceteba.
I never did believe the Garb it wears;
Breeches do illy sute with Sighs, and Tears:—
[Page 14] But often Reason had to guess,
'Tis but a Woman in Disguise;
Which Polidore—
[Enter Persians in Disguises.
These by their Garb, should to the Prince belong,
And here with News from the Engagement come:
But my Prophetick Doubts! He's safe, I fear;
Aside.
Joy swells their Looks, and Rides in Tryumph there.
Is my dear Son! Speak! Is the Prince secure?
Lives yet a Persian, to with-stand his Pow'r?
Those worst of Monsters!—
1 Persian.
—Yes, we Live; and know,
If we are Monsters, you shall find us so!
By our High-Priest, a sacred Oath we've made,
Not to return without the Prince's Head.
But tho his Courage won't of that allow,
Yet yours may in its stead, fullfil our Vow;
And be, perhaps, as Advantagious too.
Ceteba.
Then are ye Persians! Were I sure of that,
One VVord of mine, would worthier Thoughts Creat.
I hope, you know the End, which brought you here.
2 Persian. [Gagging Cetebe.
That we are Persians, may by this appear.
3. Persian. Gagging Maacla.
In vain you strive; For when your Queen is slain,
You in the other VVorld, must bear her Train.
[Exeunt Persians carrying off Ceteba, and her Maid
CHORUS.
I.
GEorgia, Thou hast too Fruitful been!
Thy Death's by thy own Children sought.
So I've unnat'ral Branches seen,
Drop Venom on their Mother-Root.
Call here Arabia's Savages;
For they can better Doctrine Teach.
II.
Unhappy Prince! Thy Countries Fate,
And Thine, alike in this do shew.
She's in her Son's Unfortunate,
As in a Mother's Malice you.
Such Monsters, that 'gainst Nature prey;
She a Canibal, and Vipers they.
III.
Damn'd Pope! What Poysons did'st infuse,
To stifle Nature's kindly Flame?
Must all Ties of Relation lose,
At thy Approach, its very Name?
Thou, and thy Jesuits, by these Knacks,
Seem Learned Virtuoso Quacks.
IV.
VVolves, and Tygers, you prepare
For those of your Religion; who,
With these fierce Monsters, must be sure,
To change their Blood, and Nature too.
And many more of these quaint Tricks,
Make Currant Roman-Catholicks.
V.
Deny this, Jesuit, if you can;
Is your Religion any more,
Than a meer Politick Designe,
To Serve the Babylonian-VVhore?
Speak! Is it Heaven, or Golden Heaps,
Thou Huntest in a thousand Shapes?
VI.
The Doctrine of Deposing-Kings,
With all its Fatal Consequence;
And ten Thousand as bad Things,
Derive their Bloody Birth from hence.
'Twas only Policy, that cou'd
Create, and now Supports thy God!
VII.
Sedition is thy Brat; and Thou
Art th'Cause of almost every War;
Whether they Turks, or Christians are
Thou Arm'st, it is alike to You.
Murthers, and Massacres too,
From thy very Nature flow.
VIII.
Yet whether Prince or People seek,
Or are by thee, forc'd to Extreams:
Forsooth, 'tis alwayes Conscience-sake,
And Religion are the Themes.
And thus the Highest Things you bend,
To serve the worst, and lowest End.
Finis Actus Secundi.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Teimurazez, Morinus, and Brizander; Sheathing their Swords.
Teimurazez.
THose which surviv'd, are to their Country fled,
Swift as the rest, did to th'Elizian-Shade.
Morinus.
Mars has resign'd his Deity to You;
Pallas her Shield, and Jove his Thunder too.
Mantled in Clouds, they view'd you from a far;
And from your Conquests, learn'd New Arts of VVar.
The Souls of Hero's, hov'ring in the Sky;
Sickned with Envy, at your Victory;
VVhose Fame must now, dumb as their Ashes lye.
Th'Immortal Bays, which on their Godheads grew,
Dropt down, and cling'd to your Victorious Brow.
Teimurazez.
Tho Fortune's Kindness seem'd, at first, so great,
A Mother's Loss does more than Cancel that:
It does my Laurels into Cypress turn,
And seem to teach my Tryumphs how to Mourn.
Thus many things must make up Happyness;
Tho only one, will serve to make it less.
But Heav'n! How could they steal away the Queen,
Yet unreveng'd, and what is more, unseen!
Brizander.
When horrid Shouts bellow'd on ev'ry side,
And Slaughter stretch't its ugly Limbs so wide:
Whil'st the Guns roar'd, till they the Heaven's did rend,
And thither did their Entrals Off' rings send;
The Queen Unguarded, was with Maacla,
By disguis'd Persians, Convey'd away.
Teimurazez.
That was the reason, they so soon took wing,
To bear her Trophy to their Pagan King.
I must prepare some fit Embassador,
To offer Peace, and Ransom pay for her.
Brizander.
This is the Plot, which we so much did feat;
You still did slight, and was so loath to hear.
For such small Numbers, durst not us invade,
Without the Promise of some Traitor's Aid.
But some kind Accident their Purpose broak;
Perhaps the Place, or they the Time mistook:
Or when they saw, we such Resistance made,
The Rebels fainted, and th'Invaders fled.
Morinus.
The Lord Polidore, with all his Popish-Train,
No longer can their Innocence maintain.
[Page 17] We'bserv'd his Party scatter'd up and down;
And whil'st we Fought, stood idle Lookers on.
But when their Drums commanding Voice they heard,
They observ'd that Call, and to one Bulk repair'd:
And in a trice, Two large Battalions made;
Which Percas, and Zolazer, were to Head.
Who without doubt, Yours, and Our Fate design'd,
Had not the Persians Quickness stopt their Hand.
Teimurazez.
No more, my Lords! These large Complaints are vain,
Against these real, harmless, honest Men.
This is the Issue of your Old Deceit,
To stamp the Name of Justice on your Hate.
That Envy's the Soul's Plague, we hence may know;
You ope' these Ulcers, to infect me too.
Whence else these Guilty Blushes?—
Morinus.
—If I Blush,
'Tis 'cause you don't, whil'st you upbraid me thus!
Who for your Ease, so many Racks have known;
And for your Safety, did no Danger shun.
But if your former Love does weary grow,
And you believe, you've worn me long enough;
I am willing, to be laid aside.—
But th' Gods can bear me Witness, that I know
No Hate for Them, besides my Love for You:
Nor can I Love you Both, 'less I could be
Stupid as You, or Treacherous as They.
Brizander.
He speaks not half, what we can make appear;
Too much we know, and yet much more we fear:
Their Absence too, doe's some Suspicion shew;
They fear Guilts past, or else are acting New.
Had n't they been Conscious, they had hastned now,
To help us wreath a Chaplet for your Brow.
But th'know, they cannot, without Blushing, own
Your Courage, since it must Condemn their own.
Teimurazez.
No more! I cannot yet suspect their Worth,
'Till Time, its wonted Off-spring Truth, brings forth:
But was this true; in the Birth of a Disease,
No'ne uses the Extreamest Remedies.
Morinus.
But when that's suddain, so the Cure must be;
When you're surpriz'd, 'twill be too late to say,
Your Fears have been too tardy: For, you know,
Treasons, as soon as thought, to Action go;
Tho few believe it, 'till they feel the Blow.
Prince.
Keep to your selves, your Fears and Jealousie:
Guarded with Innocence, I stand as free,
[Page 18] As one who from a Rock, on Storms looks down,
And Laughs to see poor Angry Neptune frown.
Since Fear, and Guilt, but the same thing appear,
When we want Guilt, it is a Sin to Fear.
SCENE II.
Enter Polidorus, Zolazer, Dubois, Tyrone, Lumbus, and Lucan.
Zolazer.
HOwe're the Pope's Divinity appear,
I'm sure, his Politicks know how to Err:
Else, had our Harvest to a Ripeness grown,
E're he had sent his Slaves to Cut it down;
We had not lost the Queen; Nor had She bin
Her self a Saint, e're she had seen you King.
[To Polidor.
Dubois.
What may we Trust? we ev'n our selves Deceive;
And Chance is all the Certainty we have.
Polidorus.
I'le neither Trust, nor Fear, that Bug-bear, Fate!
That Brat of Fancy! Reason now shall uncreate.
Blindly, at random, she her Arrows throws;
But Man's own giddy Rashness meets the Blows.
Man's Follies are the Lusters of her Crown,
Whose ai'ry Temples now we'll batter down;
And be our selves, what once she seem'd to be:
Make Princes Homage to our Altars pay.
We'll by our Plots, and Policy, defeat
Fate; and, in spite of its Decrees, grow Great.
Wonder shall call us Parent; and we will
Extract us Blessings from the worst of Ill.
Some Embalm'd-Head, (as I advis'd before)
Brought to the Prince—
Tyrone.
—Fear not our Art, or Pow'r.
To manage it, swifter than Thought we'll flye.
Zolazer.
Farewel; And may each Saint your Guardian be.
[Exeunt Dubois, Tyrone, Lumbus, and Lucan.
Polidorus.
These State-Affairs have so disturb'd my Brain.
Zolazer.
Which Wine, and Whores, must set in Tune again.
Polidorus.
But to Cosmelia, I must first repair,
T'observe how she doth her new Bondage bear.
Zolazer Signs as followeth:
I.
COme let's drink, and drench our Souls;
And drown our Troubles in our Bowls!
For the pretty Buds and Flow'rs,
Ne'r smell Sweet, 'till drunk with Show'rs.
II.
Come let's Sport, Embrace, and Kiss!
For Nature dictates nought but this:
And she did keep her Maiden-head,
But 'till she was to Ripeness bred.
III.
Look on the little Ant, and Bee!
Those Epicures of Luxury!
Who'n Summer toyl, and break their Sleep,
That th' may a Jollier Christmass keep.
IV.
'Tis the Arabian-Bird alone
Lives Chast, because there is but One:
But had Nature made them Two,
They would like Doves, and Sparrows, Doe.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Cosmelia sola, Drest in Man's Apparel.
WHat numerous Mountains of Perplexities,
Has ev'ry Minute of these Three tedious Winters;
Unloaded on my poor Heart?
Since (my Husband being Compel'd to Travel,
By the last Commands of his unkind Father)
Polidorus inveigled me into his Snaky Arms?
Those now-abhord, and loath'd Embraces,
Which have blasted all the Title I had to Vertue.
Oh my dear Miletas! Oh thy unfortunate Cosmelia!
Heav'n only knows, with what Racks and Tortures,
I now both Forsake, and Pollute thy Bed!
Polidore's Unkindness, mingling with my Guilt,
Feed like Vultures, on my wretched Soul.
For when I grew sensible of my Guilt,
And Polidore understood, I design'd to leave him;
Then did he begin to shew his Cruelty;
And here Confines me in a Man's Habit.
Ye Gods! Because I Repented me of the Sin,
Must I be thus Punish't?
Have n't yet the Gods all their Revenge imploy'd?
And my long Suff'rings, yet their Fury Cloy'd?
My Pain does all the World besides, set free:
Envy can have no other Mark, but Me.
Enter Polidorus. [Sighs:
Polid.
What! Alwayes Melancholy! Come Cosmelia, into my Arms!
And there I'le at once, squeeze out all your Sighs;
And mould 'em into pleasant, and airy Raptures.
[He offers to Embrace her, which she refuseth.
Cosmelia.
[Page 20]How vainly does the World Experience prize,
Seeing our own Ruin only, makes us wise!
We rashly purchase Change at any Rate;
Then what that Rashness cause, we call our Fate.
Not Fate, but we procure our wretched Doom:
And Fancy makes our Paradise, our Tomb.
Else had I not been Ruin'd in your Arms,
Nor suck the Philtre of your cruel Charms;
I'd not been Conquer'd by your Serpent-Spell,
VVhose Venom made this poyson'd Belly swell!
[Pointing to her Belly.
But now, too late I see my Crime; and may
Torrents of Tears wash this foul Spot away.
[Points again to her Belly.
Polidorus.
Was not my Iron Heart with Resolutions,
Made inaccessible, and shot-free;
Aside.
Her Charms of Vertue would Compassion move,
And turn my Lust, into a servile Love.
Cosmelia.
When first my Heart, and Wealth, you made your Prize,
Made me grow Monstrous under this Disguise;
Your Love and Constancy, your Perjur'd Oath,
Assur'd me then, tho now you're False to Both.
[She Weeps.
Polidorus.
These Tears, Cosmelia, unbecoming are;
In these clear Mirrors, your weak Sex appear.
And since you here, a Masc'line Garb put on,
'Cause I would have you, and your Sex, unknown;
You must throw off the servile Bands of Fear,
And swell your Soul, fit to that Garb you wear.
Enter Page.
Page.
There's a Messenger below, from a Person of Quality:
'Tis Pedro, Sir, Miletas his Servant.
[Aside to Pol.
Polid.
Heav'n forbid! Then surely's Master's come to Town:
My guilty Fears do shrewdly Prophesie.
Aside.
Now had I rather go to meet a Basilisk,
Or my Old Mothers Ghost.
SCENE IV.
The SCENE Discovers Pedro solus; To whom Enters Polidorus.
Polidorus.
HOnest Pedro! What News bring'st thou?
Pedro.
My Master, Sir, is newly come to Town;
And is in hast, to Kiss your Lordship's Hand.
Polidorus.
Prethee give my Service to him; and let him know,
I will immediately wait on him.
But what Disgust, Pedro, did Rome give thy Lord?
We wonder'd, to hear he made such hast from thence.
Pedro.
'Tis so full of Cardinals, Monks, Fryars, Jesuits,
And a Damn'd Company of I know not what, Religious Orders;
That I could find no Place for an Honest Man, there.
The first Thing I took notice of, was
The Cruel Usage of a poor Country-man of ours,
[Page 21] That was Bandied and Blown up, on various Engins
Of Fire-works:
And only for saying, His Holyness was a Cuckold;
Because the Church of Rome, which is call'd his Spouse,
Is still Committing of Adultery.
Whereas we in Georgia, make nothing of calling him,
The Horned Beast! the Whore of Babylon! Anti-Christ!
And more such Names, than he pretends Right to Kingdoms.
Polidorus.
I suppose, young Man, you'll find the Case something alter'd.
Pedro.
But I wish, some body would call my Master, Cuckold;
So he would inform him, who made him so:
For his Lady (he being Absent) was Decoy'd away;
And has taken with her, what e're was Portable.
Vast Sums of Gold, Jewels; and what concerns him most,
The Writings of his whole Estate.
And, Sir, he's now Rich, only in your Friendship.
[Exit Pedro.
Polidorus.
She Hates me now, more than she Lov'd me once:
And if she hears, her Husband's come to Town,
She'll use some Stratagem, to Betray me to him.
I must contrive some Means, to stop her Breath;
And my own Safety purchase by her Death.
SCENE V.
Discovers Cosmelia sola.
Cosmelia.
OH Heav'n! Is this the Product of curst Natures
Cruel Bounty?
Must I pay Homage to her Deity,
For being distinguisht from the Toad, and Adder?
And at once, emulate the Prerogative,
Their uncurb'd Career of Pleasures seem to claim?
Had she suffer'd me to Sleep peaceably,
In my first nat'ral, earthy Being:
And not 'waken'd me, with the Corroding Blisters
Of a Rational Soul; I had not felt
The Thorny Pressures, of th'insulting World;
But with Atlas, been insensible of the Weight of Heav'n.
But now, into what rugged Oceans
Of Perplexities, am I still plung'd?
And yet Cruel Fortune, will not suffer me
Quite to sink.
Oh, my dear Miletas! Oh, my unfortunate Miletas!
To think of Thee, is all the Tast I have of Pleasure:
And yet, Heav'n knows, what a Bitterness that strikes!
Methinks, my Fancy seems to gaze after
The faint Idea of some unusual Rapture;
As if my Guardian-Angel was Conducting
Thee to my Prison.
But tho awake, I can't Enjoy thy Charms;
I'le go to Sleep, and Dream thee in my Arms.
[She sits down in a Chair, and composes her self to Sleep.
SCENE VI.
Enter Polidorus and Zolazer.
Zolazer.
EAch Souldiers Faith's to my Inspection known;
And I've one Thousand of 'em made our own.
Those, Sir, according to your Wise Command,
I've ty'd fast to us, with an Oaths firm Band.
Polidorus.
I've strictly view'd the Products of your Care;
So many I found Safe, and did the rest Cashier:
And to our Party such Directions giv'n,
That by their very Crimes, they'll merit Heav'n!
You'll wonder, if I'le make our Wenching be,
Both our Religion, and our Policy.
For when the Women yield their Hearts our Prey,
They'll our Religion too, as soon Obey.
And that, when they are safely made our own,
They'll like the Pox, spread thorow their whole Town.
So shall our Empires un-seen Greatness grow:
Yet that's no Sin, whence good Effects do flow.
Zolazer.
You make Hell Heav'n; Change the Decrees of Fate,
E're one damn'd Whores Religion you beget.
Our Plot Discretions, Faith alone should trust;
Not ev'ry Drab, and Common-Shore of Lust.
But I must follow, where you're pleas'd to steer.
I am your Servant, not your Councellor.
But 'mongst the various Forms of our Designs,
We must contrive Revenge for those Divines;
Sanco, Piazer, Lezdros, and the rest
Of that Black Tribe, which does the Land infest.
Against our Church, they've sev'ral Volums writ;
Where Truth and Learning's chequer'd o're with Wit:
And in their Pulpits, all our Cheats display;
Take off our Masks, and shew us to the Day.
But we've already Harnest in our Toyl,
Piazer, that great Champion of the Soul.
Enter Piazer, Fetter'd and Manacl'd; and led in by two Ruffians.
Oh! Here he comes! You'll see him Court his Doom;
And like the Swan, Sing his own Requiem!
Polidorus.
Since you're the Devil's Agent here, in vain,
[To Piaz
We'll send you Guilty to him back again.
There, we'll consent, you our Contrivance tell;
And prove, our Tortures Rival those of Hell!
Piazer.
Kind Heav'n, which sent me Captive to these Chains;
Has lent me Patience, to o're-come their Pains.
Methinks, I'm now much Livel'er grown; as 'twere
To gain more Time, what Heaven sends, to bear.
[Page 23] I'd wish to Live, but to disclose our Wrong:
But Heav'n may give my Martyr'd Blood a Tongue!
Polidorus.
This stupid Heretick, calls Heav'n his own;
But we'll find Tortures, which will change his Tone.
Fetch Brimstone! Fire! Gun-powder! Pitch! And all
Death's fierce Ingredients, to his Funeral call!
Thou first shalt Suffer this Worlds Tortures o're;
Then headlong fall to Hell, to Suffer more!
[Exeunt two Ruffians.
Piazer.
Your various Tortures, you prepare in vain;
For they are my Divertisement, not Pain.
I restless lie for ling'ring Bliss! Thus strange!
Heav'n does to Vertue, my Impatience change.
Oh, blest Disquietness! Such Longings please!
We find in Noble Discontents, some Ease.
Zolazer.
E're our Designs on Prosp'rous 'pinions rise,
Salvirus too, must fall our Sacrifice.
Polidorus.
'Tis best, let neither for his Part'ner stay;
They may walk hand-in-hand, in the Broad-way.
Zolazer.
No; we th'Maturity of Things must wait;
And for Salvirus, lay a Private Bait.
A Cottage may, with unheard-Noise, fall down;
Whil'st th'Noise of greater Ruins will be known.
There does a Potion in his Chamber lye,
In which I will his speedy Death convey:
That shall all Thoughts of Treachery expell;
And fill that Room, where his Curst Sould does dwell.
The two Ruffians Re-enter with a Chafing-Dish of Coals, Brimstone, long Knives, &c. with which they variously Torment Piazer; who makes most doleful Cryes.
Polidorus.
Since this close Place only our selves contain,
Our unheard-Cries but Eccho back your Pain!
There Descends a Spirit, which Sings as followeth:
I.
Come Glorious Soul make hast!
Let me Conduct you to Eternal Rest!
You Linger, as if you despair'd to gain
Any other Bliss, besides Content with Pain.
But Heav'n, whose chiefest Care you are,
Does all its Happyness prepare,
For to Reward those Torments now you bear.
II.
Such little Pain as this,
Is to give Relish to your Future Bliss!
[Page 24] And your pure Breast lies panting at your Death,
But to improve the Heavens with your Breath.
And Heav'n, whose chiefest Care you are,
Does all, &c.
Polidorus.
What suddain Extasie, Sir, has hurried you
Into this wild Demeanor of your Looks?
Was you thus strucken with a Planet? or have you seen
A Gorgon's-Head? You thus seem Metamorphos'd
Into a Marble-Statue.
Zolazer.
Do those Marriners, whom a furious Wrack
Has render'd equally Unfortunate;
Demand the Cause of each others Extremity!
Your Eyes and Ears must needs be Witnesses,
Of what you seem to doubt—
And did you retain the least Sense, you may
By your own, measure my Discontentedness.
Polidorus.
I've neither heard, or seen any Reason,
Why I should be Discompos'd;
Besides the Suspence hanging on your Dubious Lips.
Zolazer.
Then angry Heav'n did cast a Mist between your Eyes,
And that Glorious Spirit, (which but now
Warbl'd forth an Heav'nly Anthem) but to continue
Your Artheistical Opinion, of there being
No such Thing.
Polidorus.
What now seem'd to represent it self to You,
Was but the Effects of your Distemper'd Brain.
The nobler Part, our Reason, not blind Sense,
Must be Decider of this Mystery.
And did I seem—
To hear, and see, a thousand such Phantasms;
My better Reason will not let me trust
Such treacherous VVitnesses.—But grant, there were
Such things, this Traitor's Ghost we need not fear;
The Dev'l will find him work enough else-where.
His Corps shall in the Dungeon, Pris'ner lye,
Whilst his Damn'd Soul, shall on Hells Gridir'n fry.
Thus my Designs, by Heaven's kind Influence grow
As undiscern'd, as th'Cause which made 'em so.
Blood is the Basis of my Rising-state;
I'm Character'd with Blood, in th'Book of Fate:
So am I free from Anxious Care; who know,
VVhat made me Cruel, will preserve me so.
[Exeunt.
Finis Actus Tertij.
Act. IV. Scen. I.
The Scene discovers Teimurazez and Polidorus.
Teimurazez.
BE not so passionate, my Lord! Let this suffice!
My opinion of your Love and Loyalty,
Is in my heart so deeply rooted,
That all the Winds of Prejudic want Power
To raise a Storm, to shake it.
Polidorus.
—Hold correspondence with the Pope! conspire your Death!
And by such various means Plot the Subversion
Of the establish'd Church and Government!
What? I'm a Beast, a Villain then! a Traitor!
A Monster Africa would blush to own!
If this be true, why live I yet? or sleeps
Heav'ns Justice? or are Humane Laws too weak?
If my Offence be publick, let my Punishment be so;
Or if you think I'm wrong'd, let my Accusers suffer!
At least, for injuring you, Sir, in your Friend.
So I dare call my self; for, were I as guiltless
Of all other Crimes as o [...] these false Whispers,
Heav'n ne're did entertain more spotless Innocence than mine.
Were their whole Bodies stuck with Eyes, thick as
Was Argus head; And all the walls of m' House
Transparent as the Air; nay were their Ears
Long enough to reach my inner Closet,
I would not whisper any Thought, to be
A second Jupiter.
Teimurazez.
To day they parted from me, swol'n with Discontent,
To see me slight their too officious Care;
I calling it Malice or at least Mistake.
And this my Lord I'll promise you; if I find
That Prejudice gave birth to these Reports,
The Authors (were they a thousand times my Brothers)
Should fall a Sacrifice to Justice for you.
Polidorus.
Would you but let me know their names—I wou'd—
But ye, good Gods, resign me all your patience,
And vindicate my Innocence; lest when
My Injuries are heard, the world may think
That you want Will, or Power to do Justice.
Scene 2.
Morinus solus.
Then can't I be believ'd?—
Phoebus! What harm did I thy Godhead do,
That thus Cassandra's Curse should me pursue?
The Trojans thought she dream'd; nor did just Fate
Revenge too soon, 'cause they believ'd too late.
But Heav'n prevent the Omen here! and call
Back your Revenge; though by a Miracle.
How often have these Knees kiss'd the cold ground,
Whil'st to the Prince I shew'd my Countrys Wound!
Then I ev'n wept, till Show'rs of Tears did seem
Rather to change my Sex, than soften Him.
They blind his Eyes, and will not let him see,
And Seas and Rocks are far less deaf than he.
[Enter Brizander▪
Brizander.
What News, my Lord? methinks your Eyes declare
Some Discontent, which almost looks like Fear.
For Passions angry Torrents overflow,
And Neptune sits a storming on your Brow.
Morinus.
Sir! If my Looks such angry Billows wear,
'Tis cause my Shipwrackt Country labours there.
You may the Cause in the Effect descrie,
For nothing less could raise my Grief so high.
The Prince still sleeps; a Lethargy like death
Will seal his Eyes, until it stops his Breath.
Polidore's th' evil Guardian of his Mind,
Knows his soft hours, and free access can find.
Has fathom'd ev'ry corner of his Heart.
And new Impressions to his Soul imparts.
Hence through the Court such treach'rous nets are spread,
That only Romans must those pavements tread.
All Offices that Faction has engross'd,
And they grow greatest that can flatter most.
They do with Oaths, and Execrations own
The Truth of our reform'd Religion,
Whil'st either Rome's they practise, or else none.
Ye Gods! that our unblemisht Church should be,
An holy Mask for their black Perjury!
Yet with such Paint they shaddow the Deceit,
That the good Prince will not believe the Cheat.
They have such Poyson for his Reason found,
No Antidote can reach to cure the Wound.
Corky and light our best Advice appears,
Which fleets but on the Surface of his Ears,
Not reach his Heart—
Brizander.
—Heav'n op'e his Eyes, that he
At once their Treasons, and our Faith may see.
Morinus.
[Page 27]But for Salvirus too, I needs must grieve,
He was too honest, and too good to live.
His Loyalty was all the Fault he knew,
And that will be the end of me and you.
They know we into all their Actions prie,
And Treason through their closest Vizards see.
But Fate does th' Prospect of our dangers shew,
Not for prevention but to edge the blow;
All care is vain when Pow'r is once deny'd,
And Courage faints, when all it's hands are ty'd.
Brizander.
Yet still the Prince with Rev'rence we must name,
His too good Nature, not himself we blame.
He thinks it near unpossible that they
Who owe him theirs, should take His Life away.
They do with him to our Devotions come,
Droll, and protest against the See of Rome.
And none like them, Faith and Allegiance vow;
Nay seem to pers'cute their own Party too.
But did the Prince believe things as they are,
He'ld soon these Vipers from his Bosom tear.
These Vipers, which would Natures Laws betray,
And through their Mothers Bowels force their way.
Morinus.
True; thus disguis'd they cheat him, for they know
He hates the Papist, when he knows him so.
Nor can they hope t' engage him to forgoe
That firm Religion, he was born unto.
Whose Ancestors, two Centuries, or more,
Withstood Rome's secret Crafts, and open Pow'r.
But these last Herds increast we know not how,
Grown up like Mushroms in a night or two.
Queen Ceteka was the first one of note,
Georgia produc'd; curst Ceteka! that Root!
That Womb of Fiends! a sort of Africk Dung,
From whence so many Thousand Monsters sprung!
Yet she with all her Jesuitick Train,
Could not the Prince to her Perswasion gain.
He stood unshaken, and continues so;
But oh the late ill Action he did do!
Th'Allowance of his Mothers Relique here,
(I would not rail, but yet can scarce forbear)
Was the severest Blow our Church e're felt.
But what could n't Polidore perswade him to,
Zolazer, and the rest of that false Crew?
This is his greatest, nay his only Guilt.
No other Blemish in his Vertue lies,
Though Envy searcht it with its thousand Eyes.
Brizander.
Unhappy State of those who Scepters sway!
None are so chain'd to faithless Friends as they!
That knowledg which does all their Actions guide,
Through th' Eyes and Ears of others is convey'd,
[Page 28] And does a Tincture from each Channel take,
Which either private Ends or Flattery make.
Nor is't an easie Province to remove
These spacious Objects of a Princes Love.
For th' Polititian, like a well-grow'n Oak,
Fixes his Sturdy Root near some strong Rock;
Where firmly plac'd, it ev'n the Thundrer dares,
And spreads, whilst Tempests rattle round his Ears.
Exeunt Br. and Mor.
Scene 3.
Miletas solus.
For my long Absence this just Curse I see,
She's either dead, or fled to search for Me.
But that none knew of her, does me amaze;
Can Lamps depart and no one see the Blaze?
If Heav'n, when Kings and Kingdoms do expire,
Emblems with blazing-Stars, their Funeral Fire,
Ev'n for her private Fate what could suffice
Less than the Tributes of a thousand Eyes?
Sure, was she murthered, we each Muse might see
Weep on her Tomb, th' Aonian Fountain drie.
And the griev'd Sun would a black Robe put on,
And such a Loss discover with a Groan.
Yet though my Trouble for her Loss is great,
I hardly can be angry with that Fate
Which was the Cause; and did perswade my Stay;
For thence I saw the Cheats of Popery.
I went and heard what Wonders Rome could tell,
Then came and weigh'd 'em in an English scale.
England, to thee this happy cure I owe,
And by this means Georgia its safety too.
Thy purer Air my sickly Faith refin'd
From Popish Superstitions; and I find
Those Characters of Treason disappear,
Which interwoven with my Education were.
Hence on the wings of Loyalty I fly,
For to prevent my Countries Destiny.
I'll to the Prince, and all their Treasons shew,
When they design, and how to give the blow.
[Enter Polidorus.
Polidorus!
may I trust my Eves!
A sudden extasie dazles my belief,
And my excess of Joy makes it self less.
[They embrace.
Methinks our throbbing hearts meet, and catch at each other,
As if they had an Instinct to incorporate.
Polidorus.
Did we longer dwell in each others arms,
Our Bodies, perhaps, might melt; and as
The amorous Nymph and her Hermaphroditus, mix in one.
[Page 29] But nothing can make our hearts more congenial,
Than they are.
Miletas.
To me, this happy interview,
Welcome as that of Blessed Angels is
Who still come loaded with new Heav'ns of Happiness.
Low as dispair your absence made me lie,
Till your kind presence mounts me up as high;
So Flow'rs in Storms faint on their sickly Beds,
Till Heav'ns kind Beams prop up their drooping heads.
Polidor.
Sir! If such Charms my welcome Presence wear,
Perhaps 'tis 'cause some happy News sits there.
What Fortune bids me speak, my Looks may shew,
Whil'st weighty Joys make the right Organ slow.
Miletas.
What! is our Fortune (made by'ts bounty poor)
Yet grown recruited to oblige us more?
Has here the Pope any more work to do?
Does not all Georgia stoop to kiss his Toe?
He (who procur'd it) does expect to bear
No small advantage from the Persian War.
Polidorus.
Tho' with our private aid, they storm'd the Town,
They were repuls'd; and Ceteba alone
To Persia was a Trophie brought; where she
For her Religion did a Martyr die.
Milet.
She was a Saint, whose Soul was so sublime,
That Separation could not more refine;
Her death I fear has weaken'd our Design.
Polidor.
No, like the Phoenix, she resign'd her breath.
Her teeming Dust gave a more active Birth
To new Designs, which I was Midwife to.
Miletas.
With haste the meaning of this Riddle shew.
Polidor.
Four Jesuites by my advice a Stranger slew,
Whom not the King from his dead Mother knew.
Each knee this as her Relique does adore,
And most believe the very Touch a Cure.
The Prince its keeping to these Jesuites gave,
Who annual Stipends for their Craft receive.
This Miracle you'll in our Temple see
In Pomp, above th' Athenian Deity.
Whose Rayes will soon, as far as Phoebus shine,
And draw whole Nations to its painted Shrine.
Thousands already on this Wonder wait,
As an Asylum where they 'll fly from Fate.
Where to these Odours as a Saint they bow,
They 'll strive to tread those ways which made her so.
Miletas.
[Page 30]But how will this pretence the Touch endure?
Or can a meer Belief create a Cure?
Emp'ricks may sooth the Admiring Crowd to buy,
But time and practice will the Cheat discry.
Polydor.
True; but these Doctors for all cures excel;
They'll to its Function the loth Soul compel.
Then into Natures strange Meanders prie,
And her declining frame re-edifie.
Yet all, this Relique as their Doctress greet,
'Tis thought the Centre where all healing Virtues meet.
Miletas.
But some Diseases will all Art o'recome.
Pol.
Such they pretend she with dark threatnings dooms
To die; and Cures long lingring in dispute,
They to their Patients hainous Sins impute.
Miletas.
Like Gods you make the servile World obey,
Frame new Religions, and each conscience sway.
Pol.
Did Jove the ancient world but thus command,
His Scepter had not trembled in his hand.
All Nations had not known one Common Grave,
Nor proud Mount Ide been rival'd by a Wave.
These Parts where stiff-neck'd Zealots only grew,
We gently soften'd, and then thought to bow.
A Cross or Image lately so abhor'd,
Is now as much as Persia's God ador'd.
The Tolling of a Bell is heard.
Miletas.
Hark, Sir! Deaths harsher Trumpet wounds my Ear,
An Engine made to strike the Soul with Fear.
By these Death-Calls I've 'nto such Fits been thrown,
That others Passing-Bells I've thought my own.
They to my Heart such wounds of Conscience bear,
As if not written, but engraven there.
Polidor.
I too did in these Errors run astray,
Till the Pope taught me a more soothing way.
Ensuing Pains all sensual Pleasures bring,
But this has Charmes will blunt the sharpest sting.
He takes his Pardon out of his Pocket and shews it.
[Enter Messenger.
Messenger.
I bring ill News; Salvirus (Sir) is dead.
Polidor.
Salvirus dead! it is impossible.
I saw him yesternight all Life and Spirit,
As if there were no Empire there for Death.
But, for prevention he design'd this Morning,
To take a Potion.
Messenger.
[Page 31]Ev'n that Prevention did include his Death.
And Tobias the Apothecary
Is apprehended for his Poys'ner.
And, (Sir) I'm sent to let you know
His Corps require a speedy Burial,
And wait only on your Coming.
Polidorus.
[Looking upon the Messenger.
Farewell Salvirus! since it must be so.
Sure none can guess how much I feel thy Blow.
But for thy Murtherer I'll soon prepare
Revenge, which shall my Constancy declare.
[Exit Messenger.
Zolazer gives what we ask Heaven for
Sure he with Sylla's vengeful Ghost confers
Which might contemplate high'r in Policy;
But none delights in humane Blood like he.
He'll climb up Times Abode, and 's Sythe command
What Ears to crop and what are fit to stand.
Scen. 4.
Enter Polidorus, Miletas, Zolazer, Dubois, Tyrone, Lumbus and Lucan.
Polidorus.
Since we are now in a full Synod met,
Let each relate what News he brings from Fate.
Why the Revengeful Furies are so slow,
Or if the Prince is ripe for Death or no.
Whether the fatal Sisters cease their Strife,
And all agree to cut his thread of Life.
Dubois.
Let this suffice! we do his Death decree,
And Thursday night shall be the Massacre.
I've hir'd two Ruffians arm'd with Cruelty,
As well by Nature as, Religious Tie,
Sworn then to give the fatal Stab, or die.
Nor need we fear, he can the Blow escape,
Whil'st fetter'd in the drousie Arms of Sleep.
Zolaz.
To all our Party we've this notice sent,
Then to be arm'd to expect the Event.
And if the Murder on the Prince succeed,
All Georgia in the same hour shall bleed.
We do expect ten thousand Persians aid;
Which Montaxerxes does design to head.
They'll come with armed Resolutions o're,
Now ro regain their Credit lost before.
Their Magazine you know we have engrost,
Nor was my pains amongst the Souldiers lost.
[Page 32] So that we need no opposition fear,
Besides the Citt's, made valiant by Despair.
But them whilst flaming Houses do surprize,
We will knock down like Candle-dazled Flies.
Legions of Angels will our Armies lead,
And every Saint by Intercession aid.
Nay, very Pictures will our Cause maintain,
Nor sleeping Heroes wear their Swords in vain.
Lucan.
Our Emissaries scatter'd up and down.
Assure our work is to perfection grown.
that several thousands are oblig'd by Vow,
Both to be secret and assistant too.
And those mean few we thought unfit to trust,
We hope to find as forward as the first.
Lumbus.
We did the various Seed of Faction sow,
And chose such Soil in which it best might grow.
Whisp'ring Rebellion to each list'ning Ear,
Rub'd their old Sores, and taught 'em what to fear.
Some Discontents, and Terrors of the Law.
And some fair Prospects of Preferment draw;
Whilst other tost on Billows of Despair,
Meet serene Thoughts and quiet Harbour here.
Then we have artful Engines fram'd to squeeze
Large Stipends from their tender Consciences.
And Surgeon-like, corroding Salves apply,
T' enhance the value of our Remedy.
Hence came our Wealth, and our proud Colleges
Owe both their Splendor, and their Birth, to these.
Dubois.
To our late wants, above their pow'rs, they bring,
Each one his meritorious Offering:
Misers unlock their Darling Coffers now:
And to our Banks their mighty Treasures flow.
Women with Jewels golden Wedges buy,
Or with their Houshold Plate our Mints supply.
Tankards, Salts, Candlesticks, and all's our own,
To Baby's little Cawdle-dish and Spoon.
Thus furnish'd does our vast Exchequer shine,
Inlay'd with our new counterfeited Coin.
Good as the best it will our bus'ness do,
And buy what deaths we please, for Kings and Kingdoms too.
Miletas.
Now have I seen the bottom of the Plot.
[Aside.
And Georgia falls, if I secure it not.
So certain are they, so full blown their hope;
They think Heav'n can't their Hellish Projects stop.
Yet the Scene must be chang'd; and they betray'd
To feel those Racks they for their Country made.
Morinus and Brizander I have sent,
To give the Prince notice of my Intent.
Tyrone.
[Page 33]The Temple Door immediately will be open,
And thousands of Diseas'd Persons by this time throng
From all parts o'th' World to adore our Relick.
We have annointed its Face, and set behind it
A Chaffin-dish of Coals, to make it seem
To sweat, and weep, by melting of the Liquor.
Our Springs, our Wheels, and such like Engines
Are of great Use to make it move, and speak.
We must likewise pretend, that ev'ry night,
The Relique, by a Miracle, provides
More Wax, than all the Lights and Flame consume.
So that the Tapers in the Morning weigh'd,
Prove oft times heavier than before.
Miletas.
[Aside
That real faith by which we Heav'n may gain
Seems plac't afar, and Doubts are strew'd between.
Whil'st things most false, soon our Belief create,
And deprav'd Nature carries on the Cheat.
Scen. 5.
Enter Teimurazez, Miletas, Morimus and Brizander.
Morinus.
[To Teimurazez.
If Truth has any Pow'r, or if there be
A Certainty in Demonstration,
Your Reason will not let you doubt that now
Which your belief so long fainted under.
Teimurazez.
Doubt it? no:
'Tis Truth enough to make an Atheist worship it.
A thousand Circumstances, though 't wants not any,
Offer themselves, to guard your Evidence.
[To Miletas.
But th'horridness of it so frights my Patience,
That I can't hear the rest without turning Fury.
Ye Gods!
Have I been led so long, so willingly,
Unto the Brinks of Ruin?
Loyalty, whither art thou fled! or was there
Ever any more, than what lives in you,
Since Adam lost his Innocence?
Frail man! what art thou? of what Use thy Reason?
Dote not on that; for 'tis thy only Misery.
'Twas that made envious Belzebub a Rival
To our first Parent; who searching his ambitious Soul,
Sow'd Treason there, not to be rooted out
Whil'st yet there lives one Seed of him.
If Polidore is false, whom may I trust?
Miletas.
Ev'n me, Great Sir, and sev'ral thousands more,
Who for our Prince and Churche's safety,
Will gladly sacrifice our Lives and Fortunes.
[Page 34] I'm now new fram'd; and moulded to another Thing.
And I hope my Loyalty may not seem the cheaper
For springing out of Penitence.
Brisander.
It should be dearer rather; and he that but reflects
On th' Cause, and Nature of your Discovery,
Must needs confess
You are so far from meriting the least Blame,
That you seem particularly sent by Providence,
To be your Countrey's Guardian Angel.
Teimurazez.
You've made a full and clear discovery,
And unlock't all their Stygian Secrets.
But how your Lordship came conscious of their Practices,
I have not yet had cognisance.
Miletas.
My Father, some three years since (as Polidore is now)
In Georgia, was the Pope's chief Agent.
And trusted me with all he did of Moment.
But on his Death-bed—
(Reflecting on the horrour of his past Crimes,)
In his Conscience felt such Racks and Tortures,
(The wages of his Murthers, Treasons, and Perjury)
That he began to question that Religion,
Whose Essence do's consist in such black Principles;
And to prevent my being farther int'rested
In th' carry'ng on of this Conspiracy,
On's Blessing, charg'd me to repair unto
Some Kingdome, where the Reform'd Religion flourishes.
Soon after his death, I perform'd my Promise,
And having slightly view'd some Countries on the way,
I came to England.
Where a years conversation with the Doctors there
Made me become a Proselyte to that Church.
There all the Cheats of Rome I saw display'd,
And th' Popish Plots, which fill their Chronicles,
Made me begin to pity this poor Kingdome,
And use what haste I could to stop its ruine.
At my Return I thought it necessary
To wear my former Face, and mix again
With those lost Villains; and run all their Mazes with 'em,
In order to find out their subtile Roads,
And windings into Woods of Night and Darkness,
And I suppose I've don't effectually;
For the Truth of those black Treasons I have told you,
Not my self alone, but two other Conspirators
(Who desire as yet to have their Names conceal'd)
On the assurance of their Pard'ns will justifie.
Teimurazez.
On a Princes word they shall be given 'em.
But as for you, My Lord, I know not what to offer you.
Ask what Georgia can bestow, 'tis yours.
[Page 35] She cannot be too bountiful to him that sav'd her.
Miletas.
It was but natural to save a Life, so near
And necessary to us as our Countreys.
She is our Common Mother, and commands
Protection from us.
But let's not lose our time in words; the Enemy
Is active, and next Thursday night's the time
Destin'd for slaughter.
Let Polidore immediately be seiz'd,
Zolazer, and the rest whose Pow'r and Greatness
Render 'em more dangerous.
Teimurazez.
My Lord! You've spoken my resolution,
A I refer it to your management.
Not only Polydor's Commission,
But after he's condemn'd, that vast Estate
His Treasons bought, shall help to pay your Loyalty.
Miletas.
Your Bounty, Sir, surprizes me, it is
So great, and unexpected.
Teimuraz.
Your Merits do exceed all Bounty, and this
Is but a glimps of what your Countrey owes you.
Morinus.
Miletas! Let me kiss thy hand! thou Saviour of Georgia!
What Honour hast thou purchas'd? what Voices, Titles,
And Applause through every Street will follow you?
The Citizens will have your Statue rais'd,
Although thy very name is one; which will be fixt
In th' Memory of all succeeding Ages,
And last, whilst Monuments of Brass and Marble
Decay, and crumble to their first Principles.
Finis Actus Quarti.
Act. V. Scene I.
Enter Dubois, Tyrone, Lumbus and Lucan.
Tyrone.
WHAT soft Ingredients make up Mortality?
Which thus we've Pow'r to melt, and mould into any thing.
Nay, does not Custom teach us to impose
Ev'n on our own belief? and adore Chimera's?
Methinks 'tis hard to force my self not to acknowledge
A kind of Divinity to that false Relique,
Which owes to our Art its painted Being.
Dubois.
[Page 36]You need not fear to call this Relique as Authentick
As any in Italy, Spain, or Germany can boast of.
What think you of the Hair, Kerchief and Comb,
Nay, the very Shift of the blessed Virgin!
The paring of her Nails, Girdle, Shoes and Slippers;
And all as fresh, as if but new come out o'th' Shop!
Lucan.
But the several places they are in?
Dubois.
Why? There's the Wonder.
As her Shift in two; and so her Kerchief.
But for her Hair, no body knows in how many.
And of her milk there remains such an Ocean,
That had her Breasts been bigger than a Cowe's,
And plaid the Nurse all the dayes of her Life,
She could never have afforded so much.
Lumbus.
Are not Paul's and Peter's Bodies shew'd entire at Rome,
One Moiety at St. Peter's, the other at St. Paul's?
Yet all other Churches dedicated to 'em,
Pretend to have some, or other of their Reliques.
Tyrone.
But of John the Baptist they make a very Cerberus,
For less than three Heads shan't serve his Turn.
Lumbus.
Though th' Scriptures say they were single hearted,
There's Care taken they should not be so body'd.
Lucan.
Then for the Platter in which the Pascal Lamb was eaten,
What lasting Metall was it made of?
'Tis strange, it being conceal'd so many hundred years,
It should thus pop up its head on a suddain.
And know as well whose goods it was,
As if the Goldsmith had aver'd to whom he sould it.
But what is stranger yet, they shew it
At Rome, at Genoa, and at Orleanss too.
Dubois.
I've hear'd of a Monk who pretended,
H' ad brought from th' East some o' the Sound of the Bells
Which hung in the Temple of Solomon.
And that they shew at Jerusalem, a three corner'd Stone,
Assuring 'm 'tis the same of which King David said,
The stone which the Builders refus'd, is become
The head of the Corner.
Scene II.
Is a Temple discovering the pretended Relique of Queen Ceteba, with several other Reliques, with Polidorus, Zolazer, Dubois, Tyrone, Lumbus, Lucan, and several diseas'd persons, &c.
Tyrone.
Hail glorious Mirrour! in whose sacred Rays,
Declining Nature basks her sickly Days;
Where Aesculap'e unties Fates strong Decree,
And Doses gives of Immortality.
Dubois.
Hail happy Fair! in whose ennobled Breast,
Kind Heaven was pleas'd his glorious Shrine should rest:
Where other Saints the bended Clouds convey:
Whose lofty Spire is made a milky way.
The Skilful'st Angels come Physitians here,
And call this their retiring Hemisphere.
Lucan.
'Tis here Apollo rests his weary Car,
Load'n with what Juice all healing Plants do bear.
Physitians vainly into Nature prie,
Since all its Vertues to this Centre flie.
Lumbus.
So, let each Suppliant straight approach this Shrine,
And drossie Nature with a touch refine.
Whilst your Devotion willingly does flow,
Either 'twill find, or else will make it so.
All the Assembly kneel before the Relique and touch it; all which while there is heard most ravishing Musick, which seems to come from the Relique.
Polidorus.
Sure with this Sound—
The Heav'nly Quire their rival Voices mix,
And with their Concord the charm'd Planets fix.
Orpheus who gave Woods Ears, made proud Oaks bow,
And with his Lute pierc't the dark Shades below;
Who made Rocks dance, admiring this, would throw
Away his Instrument, and fall a dancing too.
Lucan.
Here are the Gloves of Hildeontus, which (he going to say Mass)
Hung on a Sun-Beam for two hours together.
And mought have hung 'm longer, if 't had pleas'd him,
For the Sun-Beam waited till he put them on again.
Dubois.
Here's the Jaw-bone of St. Patrick!
He was a notable Saint; and as Jossaline tells us,
Did not only at one time fast forty Days,
[Page 38] But an whole Lent another time.
And grew fatter on it too.
Polidorus.
'Tis as pretty a way to gather Flesh,
And save Charges as can be wisht.
Lumbus.
He had more wayes than this one to be frugal;
A pretty Trick of this Kind he learn'd when but a Boy.
He pickt up Ice in his Hat to make a Fire with.
Could feed fourteen thousand men with one Cow,
And that cost him nothing but the praying for.
Nay, there was a Discourse,
That the Cow the next day was alive again.
Dubois.
Here's the Shin-bone of St. David, Patron of the (Welchmen.
It is most credibly reported of him,
That whil'st he was preaching in a British Synod,
The Earth rose under's Feet, till it became an Hill,
From whence his Voice was heard like a Trumpet.
Nay St. Ketigern (though a Scotch-man) flying into Wales,
Had the same miraculous Gift of Pulpit-making.
And many are of th' Opinion, that Wales at first, became
For this Reason, so fill'd with Mountains.
Zolazer.
This drowns the Noise of Don Quixot's Feats,
[Aside
And is so extravagant a Romance; that it must owe
It's whole Invention to Bacchus his Orgies.
Lumbus.
Here's the Picture of the Vestal Velaria,
Whose one hand seems to hold Water in a Sieve,
Whil'st t' other with a Girdle makes a Ship follow it.
Then here's the original Picture of St. Dominick,
Who writ Books no Fire could burn.
He could hang in the Air like a Bird,
Transubstantiate Worms into Pearls.
Force the Dev'l to hold a Candle till 't had burnt his Fingers,
And change the Sex of a Girl, into that of a Boy.
Here's the real girdle of the Blest St. Francis,
Which being dipt in water, cures all Diseases.
Beatrix had an happy Proof of it.
Being deliver'd of a Boy dead four dayes in her Belly.
His nimbleness was such that ha's sav'd many
Who were already fall'n from the Top of an high Loft
Before he was sent for.
Dubois.
Here's the Virgin's Image which was brought from Guardia.
It keeps off Whores, and perfumes what comes near it.
There's another of hers, once ador'd in Sozopolis.
Which sweats out of it's hand a Medicinal Oyl,
And discovers it self, by its own Light.
It crookt its Finger to hold this Ring on,
And held out it's hand, to strike a Nun who affronted it.
Tyrone.
[Page 39]I hope none here questions but these Reliques and Images
Are instrumental to great Blessings.
That our Churches and Altars are consecrated
After such a manner,
That the very Coming near 'em forgives some Sins.
That the Sound and ringing of Bells,
If christen'd after our way, have much Virtue.
Holy Medals, Agnus Dei's, Blessed Grains,
Priviledg'd Altars, Beads, and Rosaries,
Holy Oil, Tapers, Branches, Ashes, Crosses.
And the three Sorts of Holy Water
Do work supernatural Effects.
Miletas.
These are their Tools and Impliments,
[Aside
The Rich Furniture of the Roman Church.
Lumbus.
You must believe each of these to be happy Instruments
To keep Houses and Vineyards, and to keep off Devils,
To give Women an easie Labour; to procure
Good Husbands for Maidens, and kill them which are not so.
They can sink Ships, rout Armies,
Raise Storms, Thunder and Hail, as there is occasion.
Miletas.
I verily believe their Tricks are as effectual this way,
[Aside
As any Horse-shoe nail'd on th' door, is against Witches.
Well! Cornelius Agrippa was but a Bungler to 'em;
So many ways they have to send the Devil packing,
That 'tis a marveil he should e're come near 'em.
But such as these his Jugling Feats appear,
And those he is not such a Fool to fear.
Tyrone.
Perhaps, amongst ye, some may yet retain
Imperfect Notions of your former pain.
Know, 'tis your Sins a present Cure impede,
Which by our Pray'rs, in time, may be allay'd.
But you who are; and you—
Who hope to find a rescue from your smart.
First pay your Offrings here, and then depart.
All throw Moneys into a large Vessel plac't there to that purpose.
Polidorus.
I must implicitly such Virtue own,
By which I'm turn'd all Admiration.
My Fetter'd Tongue wants Active Springs to vent
My Bodi's suddain Ease, and Mind's content.
Zolaz.
'Twill with Diseases Natures Passions sway,
And quench those Fires which would her Frame destroy.
There does from hence such sacred Magick flow.
It Conquers us, and makes us Conqueror's too.
1 Diseased Person.
[Page 40]My captive Heart throws off its Leaden Chain.
2 Dis. Person.
Methinks my Wounds slight and forget their Pain.
3 Sick Person.
I know this new Religion's but a Cheat,
Hells Horrors cover'd with a gaudy Bait.
But does at present my wounded Conscience ease,
And I am cur'd though with a worse Disease.
In Pleasures Bosom yet secure I lie,
Whilst with their Salves they my sharp Checks allay.
Scen. 3.
Polidorus Solus.
Was ever man perplext with women so?
The greatest Plague curst man was born to know.
There is no Hell, there is no Devil more,
One Moments Pleasure damns our future store.
Our Days and Years their wav'ring Motions drive,
And as in Storms we their tost Vassals live.
The Thoughts of that Cosmelia plagues me more,
Than all those deep Intrigues of State before.
But if not Flattery nor Threats prevail,
I have a Remedy did never fail.
A private Instrument shall her convey,
To some strange Land, or make her here away.
Enter Cosmelia in a Womans Habit.
She's chang'd her Dress because she thinks he's nigh,
[Aside.
But Death is all the Husbands she shall see.
Thus did your Eyes like glorious Tapers shine,
When first they light into Loves fatal Shrine.
That cruel God my Service does despise,
And I'm no more his Priest but Sacrifice.
Was he as Poets fancy, blind, then shou'd
I undiscern'd pass Torments various Road:
For I'm all Love, yet such is my hard Fate,
You who enjoy it, I must seem to hate.
In such a winding Labyrinth I move,
I must prove false to Friendship, or to Love.
Think on those Vows I to your Husband made,
And how our Love that Friendship has betraid!
His Presence does my former guilt renew,
And makes me willing, Dear, to part with you.
Let me secure you in some Foreign Land,
From the Revenge of your rag'd Husband's Hand.
It is the best expedient you can choose,
Lest whilst you find him, your own Life you lose.
Enter Miletas with Guards. Miletas [Aside to the Guards.
Wait in the passage to observe my call.
Exeunt Guards.
Perhaps I may discover more—
Bless my Eyes! my Wife! hold! Heav'ns 'tis she!
I'll back and unfold this dark Mystery.
[He conceals himself behind the Hangings.
Cosmelia.
Under what fatal Planet was I born,
That my sad Heart must never cease to mourn!
'Tis ev'ry hour with thousand Tortures slain,
But like Prometheus, still grows fresh for Pain.
Thrice blest was Nioke, when senseless made,
Whose Marble heart in vain Griefs Pow'rs invade.
Oh! that I might with Bublis melt to Tears,
And gliding, purge me from these drossie Cares:
I could in Neptunes Arms securer lie,
Or in Sol's fi'ry Chariot mount the Skie.
That happy Mansion does no Envy know,
Or if it does, all shall be pour'd on you.
Polidor.
D'ee think I'm frightned with your Threatnings? No,
I'll be unjust, since you dare call me so.
Cosmelia.
I your keen Rage and all its Deaths defie,
'Twas Ease, but can't encrease my Misery.
'Twill cut the String which holds my Torments weight;
Lethe will drown my Trouble, and your hate.
Death has put off his frighful vizage now,
Whom here I'll meet, and will no farther go.
My Husbands Stars o're mine th' ascendant gain.
And here detain me with their secret Chain.
Polidorus.
Then since such brave Resolves you're pleas'd to have,
Here you shall stay, and here I'll make your Grave.
He draws his Sword▪ at which Miletas enters and makes a Pass at him.
Miletas.
Ye Gods! can you these Actions tamely view?
With-hold your Thunder, and do Justice too?
Or have ye sent Me here to give the Blow?
[Polidorus Retreating.
Polidorus.
Heav'n does, and you my Innocence shall know.
Yet would I willingly deny to clear
My self of what would be your Pain to hear.
But should you now my guiltless Soul force hence,
Yours soon would follow to excuse th' Offence.
Miletas.
Therefore no longer, what you know defer.
Nor let Suspence, and Passion, make me err.
How came Cosmelia in your guilty hands?
Why is she fetter'd with those watry bands?
Thus does the Dev'l and you both tempt one way,
And punish those who do your Charms obey.
Polidorus.
[Page 42]Excuse th' Unkindness which to her I shew,
Since my Excess of Friendship made it so.
You might suspect, were we surpriz'd in Love,
But 't's strange Unkindness Jealousie should move.
This Act which I'll relate, shall provoke more
Your Thanks, than't did your angry Frowns before.
What shall I say? hold!—Since feign'd words I miss,
The Satisfaction you shall have, is—This
He endeavours to Stab Miletas, but Miletas putting by the Pass, disarms Polidorus.
Mercy, tho' on the worst of men! ev'n me!
Miletas.
Know, by my hand you merit not to die.
Polidorus.
Can what is mortal, so much Goodness shew?
Miletas.
Yes to my Country, Traytor, but not you.
[Enter Guards.
Here, seize him Guards! and keep him safe, till we
Give Orders for his father Destinie.
The Guards seize him.
Polidorus.
Furies! and Hell! you do mistake me sure.
Am n't I your General?—
Guards.
—Once Sir you were.
Polidorus.
But now the Lord Miletas you obey.
Miletas.
Come! no Disputes, but take him strait away.
The deep Intrigues of your black Treason's known.
And now a Gaol, must serve you for a Throne,
We've Weighty Fetters that will stop the flight
Of your wing'd Pride, which rais'd you to that height.
Polidorus.
You speak as if you did your self forget.
Miletas.
In Time I saw my Error, you too late.
I could not see my Native Country fall,
And my own self serve at her Funeral.
But did at once (for they together go)
Put off the Papist, and the Traitor too.
Polidorus.
Then I'm betraid! farewell all Titles now,
And ye curst Devils of Ambition too.
Your Syrene Musick's but an empty Noise,
Gives real Torments, and but painted Joys.
Hence is vain man drawn up aloft, until
His head turns giddy, and his Footsteps reel:
We't Shaddows catch, and let the Substance fall.
At once we covet, and we forfeit all.
[The Guards lead off Miletas. Cosmelia Falling at Miletas his Feet, and killing 'em.
May I these Offerings here at least bestow,
To touch your Lips, would but profane 'em now.
Miletas.
[Page 43]Oh wretched Woman! Oh unhappy Fate!
Is this the Comfort I came home to meet?
Was it for this I such strict Searches made?
Such Sighs, and mourning to your absence paid?
No; when I griev'd your Loss, I did not fear
My finding you would thus encrease my Care.
Now am I troubled, so perhaps are you,
Fate sent me to prevent th' Adulterers Blow.
Else to the Shades, you might with him repair,
To mingle Souls, as you did bodies here.
Then fly my Sight.—lest Passion make me do
What he—but bless me heav'n with Patience now.
Cosmelia.
I know my Blood is due for your Offence,
But would not have it stain my Innocence.
This hand shall do it, if you speak the Word,
So you at parting one kind Look afford.
But that, alas, I know you will not give
For only that would make me wish to live.
[Aside
Miletas.
She may repent; and I begin to grieve
For my harsh Language—Oh she seems to faint.
He lifts her up and kisseth her.
Rise up Cosmelia! and thy Fears remove.
Thou doest my Pitty, more than Anger move.
My absence, and those Flatteres he did frame,
Do at once you excuse, and sentence him.
Cosmelia.
My parting Soul does to this Sound return,
And all my Faculties revive from their cold Urn.
Scene IV.
Enter Teimurazez and Morinus. [Teimurazez Reads Maacla to the Lord Polidore.
This is to desire you to give notice to the Prince that his Mother with my self were no sooner arriv'd at Persia, but she refusing to own the Mahumetan Religion, received a Crown of Martyrdome. But her Body by my Perswasion being permitted to be embalm'd, is yet kept unburied in Expectation of a Ransom &c.
Teimurazez.
Her Body in Persia! and by a Ransome
To be redeem'd!
To what a Chain of Miracles am I linckt!
Morinus.
I know it to be her hands; and searching Polidor's Papers,
I found this wrapt up in the same Pacquet
[Page 44] With the Bull, and that Letter of the Pope's
Instructions, which before I shew'd you.
But let's not waste our time in th' repetition
Of what we have already heard, nor be
Too prodigal of our Griefs; for wounds
Too oft expos'd to the Air are fester'd by it.
Teimurazez.
Now am I fully satisfi'd of the Imposture,
Which to the Flames I have destin'd, and to Wracks the Authors.
Those Treasons which Miletas swore against 'em,
And Morat and Montaxerxes since confirm'd,
Were enough to make the Sun go backward,
And in a Cloud conceal its frightned Head.
'Twas a Conspiracy, to whose composition
All the Ingredients of horror did combine.
So strange and dismal, that Alexander himself
Could scarce have heard it without the danger of a Palsie.
Hercules would have sought his Club, and thinking it
The long-bruing Stratagems of the oldest Fiends,
Have made another Journey to the Infernal World,
Where Cerberus to excuse himself, would prove
That every Head of these Popish Conspirators
Has more of Hell in't, than all this three.
But hold! was'nt this the day Moret and Montaxerxes
Were to have their Pard'ns.
Morinus.
They have receiv'd 'em, Sir,
It is to them, next to Miletas, we owe our safety;
Our Lives and Fortunes were scarce our own,
Before they made 'em sure.
Teimurazez.
I'm far from meriting thus to be circl'd,
And waited on by all the Guards of Providence.
But th' Gods do with a more peculiar care
Provide for Princes, their Vice-Gerents here.
Nay, we are Gods, tho' to a lower Orb confin'd;
Yet lest we should beyond our bounds aspire,
And vie Greatness with the powr's above,
Heav'n thought it Policy to setter us,
With he heavie pressures of dull Flesh and Blood.
Has giv'n us Rassions, Slaves we're Slaves unto;
Yet as if this were not Allay enough,
A sort of politick Court-Syrens are imploy'd
To charm, and so infatuate our Senses,
That only that sound seems grateful to us
Which ushers in our Ruin.
It's an essential Fare to Princes,
And a Disease by it's own extremities
Alone discover'd; and that not till it is beyond
The reach of Art for to prevent its ills.
So a Consumption that starv'd rav'ning Vulture,
Which at once devours the Nat'ral Body,
Picking it to the very Bones.
[Page 45] And so bewitches the wretched Patient,
He will not trust his tortur'd senses,
Which still complain of the Diseases tyranny.
He doubts his Doctors skill, which gives him over,
Darts anger on his Friends, and thinks they speak
But what they wish.
I must confess, My Lord,
My politick condition was the same.
I've often been concern'd to hear these Traytors,
Mine and my Countreys Enemies, spoken against,
They were the only Friends I trusted, or admir'd,
The only Cabinets wherein I lock't my heart:
But now, though by a Miracle, I am my self again,
And enjoy my Faculties as well as ever.
Those passages which interpos'd, and baffled
My intellcts are now unlock't; and all
Those Vehicles of Sense, the Nerves (being chaft
By th' balmy breath of my relenting Stars)
Are 'waken'd from their cold stiff Lethargy.
The cause, those Flatterers; being remov'd,
My Reason re-assumes its Health; and now,
I see my self a Prince secure, and happy in your Love,
That Love which long and dear experience
Has taught me how to prize; give me your hand!
My best and dearest Friend! and take my Heart.
Your large Rewards shall shew I can distinguish
'Tween such a real Honesty as yours,
And the artificial Paint of Friendship.
Morinus.
My Loyalty need no such poor unworthy prop,
But dare defend my Countrys Happiness,
Without any other Guerdon than the dangers;
For our Actions either find a full reward
Within themselves, or else deserve not any.
Teimurazez.
That Vertue is its own reward, is but the airy Thought
Of some Poetical, Contemplative Philosopher.
Morality keeps under her no such starv'd Vertue.
She's an Indulgent Mistress, and allows her Family
The good Substantial Food of Gold and Silver.
They'r Instruments which smooth all the rough paths of Vertue,
And kindle Generous Purposes in the Soul,
To mount above all kind of Obstacles.
For this the Labr'er cultivates the Earth;
For this the Souldier goes to War—
Morinus.
I deny not that Rewards are sometimes necessary
To raise a Covetous Ambitious Soul,
Ev'n to Heroick Actions: their Earthy Thoughts
Will need a dull material Jewel.
But, Sir, there yet do live some generous Tempers,
In whom remains Sparks of the Ancient Vertues.
[Page 46] Fires which are pure, and, like to those of Heav'n,
Fed only, and are satisfi'd with themselves.
Enter Brizander.
Brizand.
I came but now from visiting the pris'ners,
And saw 'em burden'd with Iron, 'till its Weight
Did seem to draw down their unwilling Souls
From the Imperial Seat,
Which at their Gotuy feet are fetter'd too.
I first of all discours'd the Jesuits,
And found 'em brazen'd withso strange a confidence,
And with such bitter Execrations strove
To justifie, what they call their Innocence,
That nothing less than a demonstration
Could perswade ev'n me to think 'em guilty.
Heav'n they invok'd, and all its pow'rs for witnesses;
And sent such wishes to the Stygian World,
That the Furies stood amaz'd, and could not use
Their Scorpions.
And Sisyphus sate list'ning on his Stone,
Calling the Gods unjust for so tormenting him,
Whilst these far wickeder, live yet unpunisht.
Teimurazez.
But what says Polidore? How bears he his restraint?
Brizander.
As a wild Bull, or Lion newly caught,
Endure the Toil which holds 'em.
By all violent means he strives
T' anticipate his short-liv'd Destinie;
Foams at his mouth, huge flakes of Sulphure,
And rages with so strange a fury
As if his Breast had been a place prepar'd
For all the Devils to receive their Tortures.
Morinus.
But pray what temper do's Zolazer bear?
Brizander.
Him I confess I could not chuse but pity;
He wears at least the Show of Penitence,
Sends up such Sighs that pierce the Heavens,
To call down vengeance on the Jesuits,
Who, he says, brought him to this misery
With the false flatt'ring Charm of temp'ral Profit:
Yet, by the help of his Confession, hopes
To creep beneath the shelter of your Mercy,
And so lift it up above your Justice;
Nor could I stifle easily such grasping thoughts.
Teimurazez.
Mercy, that lazy Passion, which so long
Sate Empress o're the rest, is now depos'd,
Startl'd to hear these Crimes, she drop'd her Scepter;
Which Justice now in its rough crimson hand
[Page 47] Bears as an Instrument of Death, and swears
These trait'rous Slaves shall be the first that feel it,
Lezdras and Sanco I've already sent
To mind 'em of the other world, and let 'em know
Their Sentence is not less irrevocable
Than Years, or Ages past.
Mor.
He wrongs the Innocent who spares the Guilty.
Brizander.
But lest the Rebels, now made desperate
By their danger, dare any opposition,
In Armes we've fifteen Thousand, besides Citizens,
To wait and guard 'em to their Funerals.
Teimurazez.
They must not live to see another day;
But shut their Eyes with this. Let's mind our business then▪
And now employ their short Remain of Time,
To prepare Tortures equal to their Crime.
Morin.
Their's is the lawful Issue of Ambition,
That Ignis Fatuus of the mind; which leads
Its ign'rant Followers into Bogs and Fens,
Giving 'em Graves there whence it self took Birth.
Brizander.
Ambition may beat and stretch forth its wings,
But can no more exalt it self than the Estrich:
Honour, its Object, being like a Shadow,
Which flies from its pursuers, and follows those
Which flie it.
But if th'Ambitious chance to rise,
Like daring Icarus, they soar too high;
And being transported—
Both from themselves, and Loyalty they'le flie:
Nor are the greatest Polititians free;
As if they prize the name of Traitor more
Than fear those Racks they're certain to endure.
For Princes alwaies prove Heav'ns chiefest care,
Treasons still punish'd, or prevented are,
Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS.