[Page] SECRET-LOVE, OR THE Maiden-Queen: As it is Acted By His Majesties Servants, AT THE THEATER-ROYAL.

Written by JOHN DRYDEN Esq

—Vitiis nemo sine nascitur; optimus ille
Qui minimis urgetur.

LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Sign of the Anchor, on the Lower-walk of the New-Exchange, 1668.


IT has been the ordinary practice of the French Poets, to dedicate their Works of this nature to their King, especially when they have had the least encouragement to it, by his approbation of them on the Stage. But I con­fess I want the confidence to follow their exam­ple, though perhaps I have as specious preten­ces to it for this Piece, as any they can boast of: it having been own'd in so particular a manner by His Majesty, that he has grac'd it with the Title of His Play, and thereby rescued it from the se­verity (that I may not say malice) of its Ene­mies. But, though a character so high and unde­serv'd, has not rais'd in me the presumption to offer such a trifle to his more serious view, yet I will own the vanity to say, that after this glory which it has receiv'd from a Soveraign Prince, I could not send it to seek protection from any Subject. Be this Poem then sacred to him with­out the tedious form of a Dedication, and with­out presuming to interrupt those hours which he is daily giving to the peace and settlement of his people.

[Page] For what else concerns this Play, I would tell the Reader that it is regular, according to the strictest of Dramatick Laws, but that it is a com­mendation which many of our Poets now de­spise, and a beauty which our common Audi­ences do not easily discern. Neither indeed do I value my self upon it, because with all that sym­metry of parts, it may want an air and spirit (which consists in the writing) to set it off. 'Tis a question variously disputed, whether an Au­thor may be allowed as a competent judg of his own works. As to the Fabrick and contrivance of them certainly he may, for that is properly the employment of the judgment; which, as a Ma­ster-builder may determine, and that without deception, whether the work be according to the exactness of the model; still granting him to have a perfect Idea of that pattern by which he works: and that he keeps himself always con­stant to the discourse of his judgment, without admitting self-love, which is the false surveigher of his Fancy, to intermeddle in it. These Quali­fications granted (being such as all sound Poets are presupposed to have within them) I think all Writers, of what kind soever, may infallibly [Page] judg of the frame and contexture of their Works. But for the ornament of Writing, which is great­er, more various and bizarre in Poesie then in any other kind, as it is properly the Child of Fancy, so it can receive no measure, or at least but a very imperfect one of its own excellencies or faillures from the judgment. Self-love (which enters but rarely into the offices of the judgment) here pre­dominates. And Fancy (if I may so speak) judg­ing of it self, can be no more certain or demonstra­tive of its own effects, then two crooked lines can be the adaequate measure of each other. What I have said on this subject, may, perhaps, give me some credit with my Readers, in my opinion of this Play, which I have ever valued above the rest of my Follies of this kind: yet not thereby in the least dissenting from their judgment who have concluded the writing of this to be much inferior to my Indian Emperour. But the Argument of that was much more noble, not having the allay of Comedy to depress it: yet if this be more perfect, either in its kind, or in the general notion of a Play, 'tis as much as I desire to have granted for the vindication of my Opinion, and, what as near­ly touches me, the sentence of a Royal Judg. [Page] Many have imagin'd the Character of Philocles to be faulty; some for not discovering the Queens love, others for his joining in her restraint. But though I am not of their number, who obstinate­ly defend what they have once said, I may with modesty take up those answers which have been made for me by my Friends; namely, that Philo­cles, who was but a Gentleman of ordinary birth, had no reason to guess so soon at the Queens Pas­sion, she being a person so much above him, and by the suffrages of all her people, already destin'd to Lysimantes: Besides, that he was prepossessed, (as the Queen somewhere hints it to him) with another inclination which rendred him less clear­sighted in it, since no man, at the same time, can distinctly view two different objects. And if this, with any shew of reason, may be defended, I leave my Masters the Criticks to determine whether it be not much more conducing to the beauty of my Plot, that Philocles should be long kept ignorant of the Queens love, then that with one leap he should have entred into the knowledg of it, and thereby freed himself, to the disgust of the Audi­ence, from that pleasing Labyrinth of errors which was prepar'd for him. As for that other [Page] objection of his joyning in the Queens imprison­ment, it is indisputably that which every man, if he examines himself, would have done on the like occasion. If they answer that it takes from the height of his Character to do it; I would enquire of my over-wise Censors, who told them I in­tended him a perfect Character, or indeed what necessity was there he should be so, the variety of Images, being one great beauty of a Play? it was as much as I design'd, to show one great and ab­solute pattern of honour in my Poem, which I did in the Person of the Queen: All the defects of the other parts being set to show, the more to recommend that one character of Vertue to the Audience. But neigher was the fault of Philocles so great, if the circumstances be consider'd, which, as moral Philosophy assures us, make the essential differences of good and bad; He himself best explaining his own intentions in his last Act, which was the restauration of his Queen; and even before that, in the honesty of his expressions when he was unavoidably led by the impulsion of his love to do it. That which with more rea­son was objected as an indecorum, is the manage­ment of the last Scene of the Play, where Celadon [Page] and Florimell are treating too lightly of their marriage in the presence of the Queen, who like­wise seems to stand idle while the great action of the Drama is still depending. This I cannot other­wise defend, then by telling you I so design'd it on purpose to make my Play go off more smart­ly; that Scene, being in the opinion of the best judges, the most divertising of the whole Co­medy. But though the Artifice succeeded, I am willing to acknowledg it as a fault, since it pleas'd His Majesty, the best Judg, to think it so. I have onely to add, that the Play is founded on a story in the Cyrus, which he calls the Queen of Co­rinth; in whose Character, as it has been affirm'd to me, he represents that of the famous Christina, Queen of Sweden. This is what I thought con­venient to write by way of Preface, to the Mai­den-Queen; in the reading of which, I fear you will not meet with that satisfaction which you have had in seeing it on the Stage; the chief parts of it both serious and comick, being per­formed to that height of excellence, that nothing but a command which I could not handsomely disobey, could have given me the courage to have made it publick.


HE who writ this, not without pains and thought
From French and English Theaters has brought
Th' exactest Rules by which a Play is wrought.
The Unities of Action, Place, and Time;
The Scenes unbroken; and a mingled chime
Of Johnsons humour, with Corneilles rhyme.
But while dead colours he with care did lay,
He fears his Wit, or Plot he did not weigh,
Which are the living Beauties of a Play.
Plays are like Towns, which howe're fortifi'd
By Engineers, have still some weaker side
By the o'reseen Defendant unespy'd.
And with that Art you make approaches now;
Such skilful fury in Assaults you show,
That every Poet without shame may bow.
Ours therefore humbly would attend your doom,
If Souldier-like, he may have termes to come
With flying colours, and with beat of Drum.

The Prologue goes out, and stayes while a Tune is play'd, after which he returnes again.


I Had forgot one half I do protest,
And now am sent again to speak the rest.
He bowes to every great and noble Wit,
But to the little Hectors of the Pit
Our Poet's sturdy, and will not submit.
He'll be before-hand with 'em, and not stay
To see each peevish Critick stab his Play:
Each Puny Censor, who his skill to boast,
Is cheaply witty on the Poets cost.
No Criticks verdict, should, of right, stand good,
They are excepted all as men of blood:
And the same Law should shield him from their fury
Which has exclud d Butchers from a Jury.
You'd all be Wits—
But writing's tedious, and that way may fail;
The most compendious method is to rail:
Which you so like, you think your selves ill us'd
When in smart Prologues you are not abus'd.
A civil Prologue is approv'd by no man;
You hate it as you do a Civil woman:
Your Fancy's pall'd, and liberally you pay
To have it quicken'd, e're you see a Play.
Just as old Sinners worn from their delight,
Give money to be whip'd to appetite.
But what a Pox keep I so much ado
To save our Poet? he is one of you;
[Page] A Brother Judgment, and as I hear say,
A cursed Critick as e're damn'd a Play.
Good salvage Gentlemen your own kind spare,
He is, like you, a very Wolf, or Bear;
Yet think not he'll your ancient rights invade,
Or stop the course of your free damning trade:
For he, (he vows) at no friends Play can sit
But he must needs find fault to shew his Wit:
Then, for his sake, ne're stint your own delight;
Throw boldly, for he sets to all that write;
With such he ventures on an even lay,
For they bring ready money into Play.
Those who write not, and yet all Writers nick,
Are Bankrupt Gamesters, for they damn on Tick.

The Persons.

QUeen of Sicily————Mrs Marshall.
Candiope,Princess of the BloodMrs Quin.
Asteria,the Queens Confident——Mrs Knep.
Florimell,A Maid of Honour——Mrs Ellen Guyn.
Flavia,another Maid of Honour——Mrs Frances Davenport.
Olinda,Sisters.——————Mrs Rutter.
Sabina,Mrs Eliz. Davenport.
Melissa,Mother to Olinda and Sabina—Mrs Cory.
Lysimantes,first Prince of the BloodMr. Burt.
Philocles,the Queens favourite——Major Mohun.
Celadon,a Courtier————Mr. Hart.
Pages of Honour.  

The Scene SICILY.


PAge 11. lin. 21. dele you are. Pag. 17. lin. 3. dele more. Pag. 18. lin. 8. for from read on. Ibid. lin. 27. for to read so. Pag. 22. lin. 26. read from me. Pag. 28. for sweats read sweets. Pag. 33. lin. penult, for invites read invite. Pag. 42 lin. 11. for secur'd read secure. Pag. 44. from Annalls, read from the Annals. Pag. 49. lin. 5. for or read on.



The Scene is Walks, near the Court.
Enter Celadon, Asteria, meeting each other: he in riding habit; they embrace.

DEar Asteria!


My dear Brother! welcome; a thousand welcomes: Me thinks this year you have been ab­sent has been so tedious! I hope as you have made a pleasant Voyage, so you have brought your good humour back again to Court.


I never yet knew any Company I could not be merry in, ex­cept it were an old Womans.


Or at a Funeral;


Nay, for that you shall excuse me; for I was never merrier then I was at a Creditors of mine, whose Book perished with him. But what new Beauties have you at Court? How do Melissa's two fair Daughters?


When you tell me which of 'em you are in love with, I'le answer you.


Which of 'em, naughty sister, what a question's there? With both of 'em, with each and singular of 'em.

Bless me! you are not serious!


You look as if it were a wonder to see a man in love: are they not handsome?


I, but both together—


I, and both asunder; why, I hope there are but two of 'em, the tall Singing and Dancing one, and the little Innocent one?


But you cannot marry both?


No, nor either of 'em I trust in Heaven; but I can keep them company, I can sing and dance with 'em, and treat 'em, and that, I take it, is somewhat better then musty marrying them: Mar­riage is poor folks pleasure that cannot go to the cost of variety: but I am out of danger of that with these two, for I love 'em so equally I can never make choice between 'em: Had I but one mistress, I might go to her to be merry, and she, perhaps, be out of humour; there were a visit lost: But here, if one of 'em frown upon me, the other will be the more obliging, on purpose to recommend her own gayety, besides a thousand things that I could name.


And none of 'em to any purpose.


Well, if you will not be cruel to a poor Lover, you might oblige me by carrying me to their lodgings.


You know I am always busie about the Queen.


But once or twice onely, till I am a little flush'd in my ac­quaintance with other Ladies, and have learn'd to prey for my self: I promise you I'le make all the haste I can to end your trouble, by be­ing in love somewhere else.


You would think it hard to be deny'd now.


And reason good: many a man hangs himself for the loss of one Mistris; How do you think then I should bear the loss of two; especially in a Court where I think Beauty is but thin sown.


There's one Florimell the Queen's Ward, a new Beauty, as wilde as you, and a vast Fortune.


I am for her before the world: bring me to her, and I'le release you of your promise for the other two.

Enter a Page.

Madam, the Queen expects you.


I see you hold her favour; Adieu Sister, you have a little E­missary there, otherwise I would offer you my service.


Farwel Brother, think upon Florimell.


You may trust my memory for an handsome woman, [Page 3] I'le think upon her, and the rest too; I'le forget none of 'em.

Exit Asteria.


Enter a Gentleman walking over the Stage hastily: after him, Florimel, and Flavia Masqued.

Phormio, Phormio, you will not leave us—


In faith I have a little business———

Exit Gentle.

Cannot I serve you in the Gentlemans room, Ladies?


Which of us would you serve?


Either of you, or both of you.


Why, could you not be constant to one?


Constant to one! I have been a Courtier, a Souldier, and a Traveller, to good purpose, if I must be constant to one; give me some Twenty, some Forty, some a Hundred Mistresses, I have more Love than any one woman can turn her to.


Bless us, let us be gone Cousin; we two are nothing in his hands.


Yet for my part, I can live with as few Mistresses as any man: I desire no superfluities; onely for necessary change or so; as I shift my Linnen.


Apretty odd kind of fellow this: he fits my humour rare­ly:————————


You are as unconstant as the Moon:


You wrong him, he's as constant as the Sun; he would see all the world round in 24 hours.


'Tis very true, Madam, but, like him, I would visit and away.


For what an unreasonable thing it were to stay long, be troublesome, and hinder a Lady of a fresh Lover.


A rare Creature this!—besides Madam, how like a fool a man looks, when after all his eagerness of two Minutes before, he shrinks into a faint kiss and a cold complement.

Ladies both, into your hands I commit my selfe; share me be­twixt you.


I'll have nothing to do with you, since you cannot be con­stant to one.

Nay, rather then loose either of you, I'll do more; I'll be constant to an 100 of you: or, (if you will needs fetter me to one,) agree the matter between your selves; and the most handsome take me.


Though I am not she, yet since my Masque's down, and you cannot convince me, have a good faith of my Beauty, and for once I take you for my servant.


And for once, I'll make a blind bargain with you: strike hands; is't a Match Mistriss?


Done Servant:


Now I am sure I have the worst on't: for you see the worst of me, and that I do not of you till you shew your face:—

Yet now I think on't, you must be handsome.—


What kind of Beauty do you like?


Just such a one as yours.


What's that?


Such an Ovall face, clear skin, hazle eyes, thick brown Eye­browes, and Hair as you have for all the world.


But I can [...]ssure you she has nothing of all this.


Hold thy peace Envy; nay I can be constant an'I set on't.


'Tis true she tells you.


I, I, you may slander your self as you please; then you have,—let me see.


I'll swear you shan'not see.—


A turn'd up Nose: that gives an air to your face: Oh, I find I am more and more in love with you! a full neather-lip, an out­mouth, that makes mine water at it: the bottom of your cheeks a little blub, and two dimples when you smile: for your stature 'tis well, and for your wit 'twas given you by one that knew it had been thrown away upon an ill face; come you are handsome, there's no denying it:


Can you settle your spirits to see an ugly face, and not be frighted, I could find in my heart to lift up my Masque and dis­abuse you.


I defie your Masque, would you would try the experiment:


No, I won'not; for your ignorance is the Mother of your devotion to me.


Since you will not take the pains to convert me I'll make bold [Page 5] to keep my faith: a miserable man I am sure you have made me.


This is pleasant.


It may be so to you but it is not to me; for ought I see, I am going to be the most constant Maudlin.


'Tis very well, Celadon, you can be constant to one you have never seen; and have forsaken all you have seen.


It seems you know me then: well, if thou shou'dst prove one of my cast Mistresses I would use thee most damnably, for offering to make me love thee twice.


You are i'th' right: an old Mistriss or Servant is an old Tune, the pleasure on't is past, when we have once learnt it.


But what woman in the world would you wish her like?


I have heard of one Florimel the Queens Ward, would she were as like her for Beauty, as she is for Humour.


Do you hear that Cousin:

(to Flor. aside.)

Florimell's not handsome: besides she's unconstant; and on­ly loves for some few days,


If she loves for shorter time then I, she must love by Winter daies and Summer nights ifaith:


When you see us together you shall judge: in the mean time adieu sweet servant.


Why you won' not be so inhumane to carry away my heart and not so much as tell me where I may hear news on't?


I mean to keep it safe for you; for if you had it, you would be­stow it worse: farwell, I must see a Lady:


So must I too, if I can pull off your Masque—


You will not be so rude, I hope;


By this light but I will:


By this leg but you shan not:

Exeunt Flor. & Flavia running.


Enter Philocles, and meets him going out.
How! my Cousin the new Favourite!—
Dear Celadon! most happily arriv'd.
I hear y'have been an honour to your Country
In the Calabrian Wars, and I am glad
[Page 6] I have some interest in't.
————But in you
I have a larger subject for my joyes:
To see so rare a thing as rising vertue,
And merit understood at Court.
Perhaps it is the onely act that can
Accuse our Queen of weakness.
Enter Lysimantes attended.
O, my Lord Philocles, well overtaken!
I came to look you (Phil.) had I known it sooner
My swift attendance, Sir, had spar'd your trouble.
To Cel.—Cousin, you see Prince Lysimantes
Is pleased to favour me with his Commands:
I beg you'l be no stranger now at Court.
So long as there be Ladies there, you need
Not doubt me.
Exit Celadon.
Some of them will, I hope, make you a Convert.
My Lord Philocles, I am glad we are alone;
There is a busines that concerns me nearly,
In which I beg your love. (Phil.) Command my service.
I know your Interest with the Queen is great;
(I speak not this as envying your fortune,
For frankly I confess you have deserv'd it.)
Besides, my Birth, my Courage, and my Honour,
Are all above so base a Vice—
I know, my Lord, you are first Prince o'th' Blood;
Your Countries second hope;
And that the publick Vote, when the Queen weds,
Designes you for her choice.
I am not worthy.
Except Love makes desert;
For doubtless she's the glory of her time;
Of faultless Beauty, blooming as the Spring,
In our Sicilian Groves; matchless in Vertue,
And largely sould, where ere her bounty gives,
As with each breath she could create new Indies.
But jealous of her glory.
You are a Courtier; and in other terms,
Would say she is averse from marriage
Least it might lesson her authority.
But, whensoe're she does, I know the people
Will scarcely suffer her to match
With any neighb'ring Prince, whose power might bend
Our free Sicilians to a foreign Yoke.
I love too well my Country to desire it.
Then to proceed, (as you well know, my Lord)
The Provinces have sent their Deputies
Humbly to move her she would choose at home:
And, for she seems averse from speaking with them,
By my appointment, have design'd these walks,
Where well she cannot shun them. Now, if you
Assist their suit, by joyning yours to it,
And by your mediation I prove happy,
I freely promise you.—
Without a Bribe command my utmost in it:—
And yet, there is a thing, which time may give me
The confidence to name:—(Lys.) 'Tis yours whatever.
But tell me true; does she not entertain
Some deep, and setled thoughts against my person?
I hope not so; but she, of late, is froward;
Reserv'd, and sad, and vex'd at little things;
Which, her great soul asham'd of, straight shakes off,
And is compos'd again.
You are still near the Queen, and all our Actions come to
Princes eyes, as they are represented by them that hold the mirour.
Here she comes, and with her the Deputies;—
I fear all is not right,
Enter Queen; Deputies after her; Asteria, Guard, Flavia, Olinda, Sabina.
Queen turns back to the Deputies, and speaks entring.
And I must tell you,
It is a sawcy boldness thus to press
[Page 8] On my retirements.—
1. Dep.
Our business being of no less concern
Then is the peace and quiet of your Subjects—and that delay'd—
2. Dep.
————we humbly took this time
To represent your peoples fears to you.
My peoples fears! who made them States-men?
They much mistake their business, if they think
It is to govern:
The Rights of Subjects and of Soveraigns
Are things distinct in Nature: theirs, is to
Enjoy Propriety, not Empire.
If they have err'd, 'twas but an over-care;
An ill-tim'd Duty.—
Cousin, I expect
From your near Bloud, not to excuse, but check 'em.
They would impose a Ruler
Upon their Lawful Queen:
For what's an Husband else;
Fair; Madam, be it from the thoughts
Of any who pretends to that high Honour,
To with for more then to be reckon'd
As the most grac'd, and first of all your servants.
These are th'insinuating promises
Of those who aim at pow r: but tell me Cousin;
(For you are unconcern'd and may be Judge)
Should that aspiring man compass his ends,
What pawn of his obedience could he give me,
When Kingly pow'r were once invested in him?
What greater pledge then Love? when those fair eyes,
Cast their commanding beams, he that cou'd be
A Rebel to your birth, must pay them homage.
All eyes are fair
That sparkle with the Jewels of a Crown:
Put now I see my Government is odious;
My people find I am not fit to Reign,
[...]se they would never——
So far from that, we all acknowledge you
The bounty of the Gods to Sicilie:
More than they are you cannot make our Joyes;
Make them but lasting in a Successor.
Your people seek not to impose a Prince;
But humbly offer one to your free chioce:
And such an one he is, (may I have leave
To speak some little of his great deserts.)
I'le hear no more—
To the Dep.
For you, attend tomorrow at the Council,
There you shall have my firm resolves; mean time
My Cousin I am sure will welcome you.

Still more and more mysterious: but I have gain'd one of her women that shall unriddle it:—Come Gentlemen.—

All Dep.
Heav'n preserve your Majesty.
Exeunt Lysimantes and Deputies.
Philocles you may stay:
I humbly wait your Majesties commands.
Yet, now I better think on't, you may go.
I have no commands.—or, what's all one
You no obedience.
How, no obedience, Madam?
I plead no other merit; 'tis the Charter
By which I hold your favour, and my fortunes.
My favours are cheap blessings, like Rain and Sun-shine,
For which we scarcely thank the Gods, because we daily have them.
Madam, your Breath which rais'd me from the dust
May lay me there again
But fate nor time can ever make me loose
The sense of your indulgent bounties to me
You are above them now; grown popular:
Ah Philocles, could I expect from you
That usage I have found! no tongue but yours
To move me to a marriage?—
The factious Deputies might have some end in't,
[Page 10] And my ambitious Cousin gain a Crown;
But what advantage could there come to you?
What could you hope from Lysimantes Reign
That you can want in mine?
You your self clear me, Madam, had I sought
More pow'r, this Marriage sure was not the way.
But, when your safety was in question.
When all your people were unsatisfied,
Desir'd a King, nay more, design'd the Man,
It was my duty then.
Let me be judge of my own safety;
I am a woman,
But danger from my Subjects cannot fright me.
But Lysimantes, Madam, is a person——
I cannot love,——
Shall I, I who am born a Sovereign Queen,
Be barr'd of that which God and Nature gives
The meanest Slave, a freedom in my love?
—Leave me, good Philocles, to my own thoughts;
When next I need your counsel I'le send for you—
I'm most unhappy in your high displeasure;
But, since I must not speak, Madam, be pleas'd
To peruse this, and therein, read my care:
He plucks out a paper, and presents it to her. But drops, unknown to him a picture;
Exit Philocles.
A Catalogue of such persons—
Spies the box.
What's this he has let fall? Asteria?
Your Majesty—
Take that up, it fell from Philocles.
She takes it up, looks on it, and smiles.
How now, what makes you merry?
A small discovery I have made, Madam;
Of what?
Since first your Majesty grac'd Philocles,
I have not heard him nam'd for any Mistriss
But now this picture has convinc'd me.—
Ha! Let me see it
(Snatches it from her.)
Candiope, Prince Lysimantes sister!
Your favour, Madam, may encourage him—
And yet he loves in a high place for him:
A Princess of the Blood, and what is more,
Beyond comparison the fairest Lady
Our Isle can boast.
How! she the fairest
Beyond comparison? 'tis false, you flatter her;
She is not fair.—
I humbly beg forgiveness on my knees,
If I offended you: But next yours, Madam,
Which all must yield to—
I pretend to none
She passes for a beauty.
I, She may pass.—But why do I speak of her?
Dear Asteria lead me, I am not well o'th sudden.—
[She faints
Who's near there? help the Queen.
The Guards are coming,
Bid 'em away, 'twas but a qualm,
And 'tis already going.—
Dear Madam what's the matter! y'are
You are of late so alter'd I scarce know you.
You were gay humour'd, and you now are pensive,
Once calm, and now unquiet;
Pardon my boldness that I press thus far
Into your secret thoughts: I have at least
A subjects share in you.
Thou hast a greater,
That of a friend; but am I forward, saist thou!
It ill becomes me, Madam, to say that.
I know I am: prithee forgive me for it.
I cannot help it, but thou hast
Not long to suffer it.
I feel my strength insensibly consume,
Like Lillies wasting in a Lymbecks heat.
[Page 12] Yet a few dayes—
And thou shalt see me lie all damp and cold,
Shrowded within some hollow Vault, among
My silent Ancestors.
O dearest Madam!
Speak not of death, or think not, if you die
That I will stay behind.
Thy love has mov'd me, I for once will have
The pleasure to be pitied; I le unfold
A thing so strange, so horrid of my self;—
Bless me, sweet Heaven!
So horrid, said you, Madam?
That Sun, who with one look surveys the Globe,
Sees not a wretch like me: and could the world
Take a right measure of my state within,
Mankind must either pity me, or scorn me.
Sure none could do the last.
Thou long'st to know it:
And I to tell thee, but shame stops my mouth.
First promise me thou wilt excuse my folly,
And next be secret.—
———Can you doubt it Madam!
Yet you might spare my labour;
Can you not guess—.
Madam, please you, I'le try.
Hold: Asteria:
I would not have you guess, for should you find it
I should imagine, that some other might,
And then, I were most wretched.
Therefore, though you should know it, flatter me:
And say you could not guess it.—
Madam, I need not flatter you, I cannot.—and yet,
Might not Ambition trouble your repose?
My Sicily I thank the Gods, contents me.
But since I must reveal it, know 'tis love:
I who pretended so to glory, am
Become the slave of love.—
I thought your Majesty had fram'd designes
[Page 13] To subvert all your Laws; become a Tyrant,
Or vex your neighbours with injurious wars;
Is this all? Madam?
Is not this enough?
Then, know, I love below my self; a Subject;
Love one who loves another, and who knows not
That I love him.
He must be told it, Madam.
Not for the world: Asteria:
When ere he knows it I shall die for shame.
What is it then that would content you?
Nothing, but that I had not lov'd?
May I not ask without offence who 'tis?
Ev'n that confirms me I have lov'd amiss;
Since thou canst know I love, and not imagine
It must be Philocles
My Cousin is indeed a most deserving person;
Valiant and wise; and handsome; and well born,
But not of Royal bloud:
I know his fate unfit to be a King.
To be his wife I could forsake my Crown; but not my glory:
Yet,—would he did not love Candiope;
Would he lov'd me,—but knew not of my love,
Or ere durst tell me his: Ast. In all this Labyrinth,
I find one path conducing to your quiet,
O tell me quickly then.
Candiope, as Princess of the Bloud
Without your approbation cannot marry:
First break his match with her, by vertue of
Your Sovereign Authority.
I fear. That were to make him hate me.
Or, what's as bad, to let him know I love him:
Could you not do it of your self?
Ile not be wanting to my pow'r
But if your Majesty appears not in it
The love of Philocles will soon surmount
All other difficulties.
Then, as we walk, we'l think what means are best
Effect but this, and thou shar'st halfe my breast.


The Queens appartments.
NOthing thrives that I have plotted:
For I have sounded Philocles, and find
He is too constant to Candiope
Her too I have assaulted, but in vain,
Objecting want of quality in Philocles.
I'le to the Queen, and plainly tell her
She must make use of her Authority
To break the match.


Enter Celadon looking about him.
Brother! what make you here
About the Queens appartments?
Which of the Ladies are you watching for?

Any of 'em that will do me the good turn to make me sound­ly in love.


Then I'le bespeak you one; you will be desp'rately in love with Florimel: so soon as the Queen heard you were return'd she gave you her for Mistriss.


Thank her Majesty; but to confess the truth my fancy lies partly another way.


That's strange: Florimel vows you are already in love with her.


She wrongs me horribly, if ever I saw or spoke with this Florimel.


Well, take your fortune, I must leave you.

[Exit Asteria.


Enter Florimel, sees him, and is running back.

Nay 'faith I am got betwixt you and home, you are my pri­s'ner, Lady bright, till you resolve me one question.

[Page 15] She signs.

She is dumb. Pox; I think she's dumb: what a vengeance dost thou at Court, with such a rare face, without a tongue to answer to a kind question. Art thou dumb indeed, then, thou canst tell no tales,—goes to kiss her.


Hold, hold, you are not mad!


Oh, my miss in a Masque! have you found your tongue?


'T was time, I think; what had become of me, if I had not?


Methinks your lips had done as well.


I, if my Masque had been over 'em, as it was when you met me in the walks.


Well; will you believe me another time? did not I say you were infinitely handsome: they may talk of Florimel, if they will, but i'faith she must come short of you.


Have you seen her, then?


I look'd a little that way, but I had soon enough of her, she is not to be seen twice without a surfeit.


However you are beholding to her, they say she loves you.


By fate she shan'not love me: I have told her a piece of my mind already: pox o'these coming women: they set a man to dinner before he has an appetite.

[Flavia at the door.

you are call'd within.——


I hope in the Lord you are not Florimel;


Ev'n she at your service; the same kind and coming Flori­mel you have describ'd:


Why then we are agreed already, I am as kind and coming as you for the heart of you: I knew at first we two were good for no­thing but one another.


But, without raillery, are you in Love?


So horribly much, that contrary to my own Maxims, I think in my conscience I could marry you.


No, no, 'tis not come to that yet: but if you are really in love you have done me the greatest pleasure in the world.


That pleasure, and a better too I have in store for you.


This Animal call'd a Lover I have long'd to see these two years.

Sure you walk'd with your mask on all the while, for if you had been seen, you could not have been without your wish.


I warrant you mean an ordinary whining Lover; but I must have other proofs of love ere I believe it.


You shall have the best that I can give you.


I would have a Lover, that if need be, should hang himself, drown himself, break his neck, or poyson himself for very despair: he that will scruple this is an impudent fellow if he sayes he is in love.


Pray, Madam, which of these four things would you have your Lover do? for a man's but a man, he cannot hang, and drown, and break his neck, and poyson himself, altogether.


Well then, because you are but a beginner, and I would not discourage you, any one of these shall serve your turn in a fair way.


I am much deceiv'd in those eyes of yours, if a Treat, a Song, and the Fiddles, be not a more acceptable proof of love to you, then any of those Tragical ones you have mentioned.


However you will grant it is but decent you should be pale, and lean, and melancholick to shew you are in love: and that I shall re­quire of you when I see you next.


When you see me next? why you do not make a Rabbet of me, to be lean at 24 hours warning? in the mean while we burn day­light, loose time and love.


Would you marry me without consideration?


To choose, by heaven, for they that think on't, twenty to one would never do it, hang forecast; to make sure of one, good night is as much in reason as a man should expect from this ill world.


Methinks a few more years and discretion would do well: I do not like this going to bed so early; it makes one so weary before morning.


That's much as your pillow is laid before you go to sleep.


Shall I make a proposition to you? I will give you a whole year of probation to love me in; to grow reserv'd, discreet, sober and faithful, and to pay me all the services of a Lover.—


And at the end of it you'll marry me?


If neither of us alter our minds before.—


By this light a necessary clause.—but if I pay in all the fore­said services before the day, you shall be obliged to take me sooner into mercy.

[Page 17] Flor.

Provided if you prove unfaithful, then your time of a Twelve­month to be prolong'd; so many services I will bate you so many dayes or weeks; so many faults I will add more to your 'Prentiship, so much more: And of all this I onely to be Judg.


Enter Philocles and Lysimantes.
Is the Queen this way, Madam?
I'le see, so please your Highness: Follow me, Captive.
March on Conquerour—
[She pulls him.
You're sure her Majesty will not oppose it?
Exeunt Cel. Flor.
Leave that to me my Lord.
Then, though perhaps my Sisters birth might challenge
An higher match,
I'le weigh your merits on the other side
To make the ballance even
I go my Lord this minute.
My best wishes wait on you.
[Exit Lysimantes.


Enter the Queen and Asteria.
Yonder he is; have I no other way?
O Madam, you must stand this brunt:
Deny him now, and leave the rest to me:
I'le to Candiope's Mother,
And under the pretence of friendship, work
On her Ambition to put off a match
So mean as Philocles.
[Qu. to Phil.]
You may approach, Sir,
We two discourse no secrets.
I come, Madam, to weary out your royal bounty.
Some suit I warrant for your Cousin Celadon.
Leave his advancement to my care.
Your goodness still prevents my wishes:—yet I have one request
[Page 18] Might it not pass almost for madness, and
Extream Ambition in me.—
You know you have a favourable Judg,
It lies in you not to ask any thing
I cannot grant.
Madam, perhaps you think me now too faulty:
But Love alone inspires me with ambition,
Though but to look from fair Candiope, were an excuse for both.
Keep your Ambition, and let Love alone;
That I can cloy, but this I cannot cure.
I have some reasons (invincible to me) which must forbid
Your marriage with Candiope.
I knew I was not worthy.
Not for that, Philocles, you deserve all things,
And to show I think it, my Admiral I hear is dead
His vacant place (the best in all my Kingdom,)
I here confer on you.
Rather take back all you have giv'n before,
Then not give this.
For believe; Madam, nothing is so near
My soul, as the possession of Candiope.
Since that belief would be your disadvantage,
I will not entertain it.
Why, Madam, can you be thus cruel to me?
To give me all things which I did not ask,
And yet deny that onely thing I beg:
And to beg that I find I cannot live
Without the hope of it.
Hope greater things;
But hope not this. Haste to o'recome your love,
It is but putting a short liv'd passion to a violent death.
I cannot live without Candiope.
But I can die without a murmure,
Having my doom pronounced from your fair mouth.
If I am to pronounce it, live my Philocles,
But live without (I was about to say
Without his love, but that I cannot do)
Live Philocles without Candiope.
[Page 19] Phil.
Ah, Madam, could you give my doom so quickly
And knew it was irrevocable!
'Tis too apparent
You who alone love glory, and whose soul
Is loosned from your senses, cannot judg
What torments mine, of grosser mould, endures.
I cannot suffer you
To give me praises which are not my own:
I love like you, and am yet much more wretched
Then you can think your self.
Weak barrs they needs must be that fortune puts
'Twixt Soveraign Power, and all it can desire.
When Princes love, they call themselves unhappy,
Onely because the word sounds handsome in a Lovers mouth.
But you can cease to be so when you please
By making Lysimantes fortunate.
Were he indeed the man, you had some reason;
But 'tis another, more without my power,
And yet a subject too.
O, Madam, say not so,
It cannot be a Subject if not he.
It were to be injurious to your self
To make another choice.
Yet Lysimantes, set by him I love,
Is more obscur'd then Stars too near the Sun;
He has a brightness of his own,
Not borrow'd of his Fathers, but born with him.
Pardon me if I say, who'ere he be,
He has practis'd some ill Acts upon you, Madam;
For he, whom you describe, I see is born but from the lees o'th people.
You offend me Philocles.
Whence had you leave to use those insolent terms
Of him I please to love: one I must tell you,
(Since foolishly I have gone on thus far)
Whom I esteem your equal,
And far superiour to Prince Lysimantes;
One who deserves to wear a Crown.—
[Page 20] Phil.
Whirl winds bear me hence before I live
To that detested day.—That frown assures me
I have offended, by my over freedom;
But yet me thinks a heart so plain and honest
And zealous of your glory, might hope your pardon for it.
I give it you; but
When you know him better
You'l alter your opinion; he's no ill friend of yours.
I well perceive
He has supplanted me in your esteem;
But that's the least of ills this fatal wretch
Has practis'd.—Think, for Heavens sake, Madam, think
If you have drunk no Phylter.
Yes he has given me a Phylter;—
But I have drunk it onely from his eyes.
Hot Irons thank 'em for't.—
(Softly or turn­ing from her.
What's that you mutter?
Hence from my sight: I know not whether
I ever shall endure to see you more.
—But hear me, Madam:
I say be gone.—See me no more this day.—
I will not hear one word in your excuse:
Now, Sir, be rude again; And give Laws to your Queen.
Exit Philocles bowing.
Asteria, come hither.
Was ever boldness like to this of Philocles?
Help me to reproach him; for I resolve
Henceforth no more to love him.
Truth is, I wondred at your patience, Madam:
Did you not mark his words, his meen, his action,
How full of haughtiness, how small respect?
And he to use me thus, he whom I favour'd,
Nay more, he whom I lov'd?
A man, me thinks, of vulgar parts and presence!
Or allow him something handsome, valiant, or so—
Yet this to me!—
The workmanship of inconsiderate favour,
The Creature of rash love; one of those Meteors
[Page 21] Which Monarchs raise from earth,
And people wondring how they came so high,
Fear, from their influence, Plagues, and Wars, and Famine.
One whom instead of banishing a day,
You should have plum'd of all his borrow'd honours:
And let him see what abject things they are
Whom Princes often love without desert.
What has my Philocles deserv'd from thee
That thou shouldst use him thus?
Were he the basest of Mankind thou could'st not
Have given him ruder language.
Did not your Majesty command me,
Did not your self begin?
I grant I did, but I have right to do it;
I love him, and may rail;—in you 'tis malice;
Malice in the most high degree; for never man
Was more deserving then my Philocles.
Or, do you love him, ha! and plead that title?
Confess, and I'le forgive you.—
For none can look on him but needs must love.
I love him, Madam! I beseech your Majesty
Have better thoughts of me.
Dost thou not love him then!
Good Heav'n, how stupid and how dull is she!
How most invincibly insensible!
No woman does deserve to live
That loves not Philocles.
Dear madam, recollect your self; alas
How much distracted are your thoughts, and how
Dis-jointed all your words;—
The Sybills leaves more orderly were laid.
Where is that harmony of mind, that prudence
Which guided all you did! that sense of glory
Which rais'd you, high above the rest of Kings
As Kings are o're the level of mankind!
Gone, gone Asteria, all is gone,
Or lost within me far from any use.
[Page 22] Sometimes I struggle like the Sun in Clouds,
But straight I am o'recast.—
I grieve to see it.—
Then thou hast yet the goodness
To pardon what I said.—
Alas, I use my self much worse then thee.
Love rages in great souls,—
For there his pow'r most opposition finds;
High trees are shook, because they dare the winds.

SCENE of the Act, The Court Gallery.

Philocles, solus.
'TIs true, she banish'd me but for a day;
But Favourites, once declining, sink apace.
Yet Fortune, stop,—this is the likeliest place
To meet Asteria, and by her convey,
My humble vows to my offended Queen.
Enter Queen and Asteria.
Ha! She comes her self; Unhappy man
Where shall I hide?—
(is going out.)
Is not that Philocles who makes such haste away? Philocles, Philocles
[Philocles coming back, [I fear'd she saw me.
How now Sir, am I such a Bugbear
That I scare people from?
'Tis true, I should more carefully have shun'd
The place where you might be; as, when it thunders
Men reverently quit the open Air
Because the angry Gods are then abroad.
What does he mean, Asteria?
I do not understand him.
Your Majesty forgets you banish'd him,
[Page 23] Your presence for this day.—————
[to her softly.
Ha! banish'd him! 'tis true indeed;
But, as thou sayst, I had forgot it quite.—
to her.
That's very strange, scarce half an hour ago.
But Love had drawn his pardon up so soon
That I forgot he e're offended me.
Pardon me, that I could not thank you sooner:
Your sudden grace, like some swift flood pour'd in on narrow bancks
O'reflow'd my spirits.
No; 'tis for me to aske your pardon Philocles,
For the great injury I did you
In not remembring I was angry with you.
But I'le repair my fault,
And rowze my anger up against you yet:
No, Madam, my forgiveness was your Act of grace
And I lay hold of it.
Princes sometimes may pass,
Acts of Oblivion in their own wrong:
'Tis true; but not recall them.
But, Philocles, since I have told you there is one I love.
I will go on; and let you know
What passed this day betwixt us; be you judg
Whether my servant have dealt well with me.
I beseech your Majesty excuse me:
Any thing more of him may make me
Relapse too soon, and forfeit my late pardon.
But you'l be glad to know it.
May I not hope then
You have some quarrel to him?
Yes, a great one.
But first, to justifie my self
Know, Philocles, I have conceal'd my passion
With such care from him, that he knows not yet
I love, but onely that I much esteem him.
O stupid wretch
That by a thousand tokens could not guess it!
He loves elsewhere, and that has blinded him.
He's blind indeed!
[Page 24] So the dull Beasts in the first Paradise
With levell'd eyes gaz'd each upon their kind;
There fix'd their love: and ne're look'd up to view
That glorious Creature man, their soveraign Lord.
Y'are too severe, on little faults, but he has crimes, untold,
Which will, I fear, move you much more against him.
He fell this day into a passion with me,
And boldly contradicted all I sed.
And stands his head upon his Shoulders yet?
How long shall this most insolent—
Take heed you rail not,
You know you are but on your good behaviour.
Why then I will not call him Traytor—
But onely rude, audacious and impertinent,
To use his Soveraign so.—I beg your leave
To wish you have, at least imprison'd him
Some people may speak ill, and yet mean well:
Remember you were not confin'd; and yet
Your fault was great. In short, I love him
And that excuses all; but be not jealous;
His rising shall not be your overthrow,
Nor wil! I ever marry him.—
That's some comfort yet
He shall not be a King.
He never shall. But you are discompos'd;
Stay here a little; I have somewhat for you
Shall shew you still are in my favour.
[Exeunt Queen and Asteria.
Enter to him Candiope weeping.
How now, in tears, my fair Candiope?
So through a watry Clowd
The Sun at once seems both to weep and shine.
For what Forefathers sin do you afflict
Those precious eyes? for sure you have
None of your own to weep.
My Crimes both great and many needs must show
Since Heav'n will punish them with loosing you.
[Page 25] Phil.
Afflictions sent from Heav'n without a cause
Make bold Mankind enquire into its Laws.
But Heav'n, which moulding beauty takes such care
Makes gentle fates on purpose for the fair:
And destiny that sees them so divine,
Spinn's all their fortunes in a silken twine:
No mortal hand so ignorant is found
To weave course work upon a precious ground.
Go preach this doctrine in my Mother's ears.
Has her severity produc'd these tears:
She has recall'd those hopes she gave before,
And strictly bids me ne're to see you more.
Changes in froward age are Natural;
Who hopes for constant weather in the fall?
'Tis in your pow'r your duty to transfer
And place that right in me which was in her.
Reason, like foreign foes, would ne're o'recome,
But that I find I am betray'd at home.
You have a friend that fights for you within:
Let Reason ever lose, so love may win.
Enter Queen and Asteria.
Queen with a Picture in her hand.
See there, Asteria,
All we have done succeeds still to the worse;
We hindred him from seeing her at home,
Where I but onely heard they lov'd; and now
She comes to Court, and mads me with the sight on't.
Dear Madam. overcome your self a little,
Or they'l perceive how much you are concern'd.
I struggle with my heart,—but it will have some vent.
[To Cand.]
Cousin, you are a stranger at the Court.
It was my duty I confess,
To attend oftner on your Majesty.
Asteria, Mend my Cousins Handkerchief;
It sits too narrow there, and shows too much
[Page 26] The broadness of her Shoulders.—Nay fie, Asteria,
Now you put it too much backward, and discover
The bigness of her breasts.
I beseech your Majesty
Give not your self this trouble,
Sweet Cousin, you shall pardon me;
A beauty such as yours
Deserves a more then ordinary care,
To set it out.
Come hither, Philocles, do but observe,
She has but one gross fault in all her shape,
That is, she bears up here too much,
And the malicious Workman has left it open to your eye.
Where, and 'please your Majesty, methinks 'tis very well?
Do not you see it, Oh how blind is love!
And how quick-sighted malice!—
But yet methinks, those knots of sky, do not
So well with the dead colour of her face.
Your Majesty mistakes, she wants no red.
The Queen here plucks out her Glass, and looks sometimes on her self, sometimes on her Rival.
How do I look to day, Asteria!
Methinks not well.
Pardon me, Madam, most victoriously.
What think you, Philocles? come do not flatter.
Paris was a bold man who presum'd
To judg the beauty of a Goddess.
Your Majesty has given the reason why
He cannot judge; his Love has blinded him:
Methinks a long patch here beneath her eye
Might hide that dismal hallowness, what think you Philocles?
Beseech you Madam, aske not his opinion;
What my faults are it is no matter;
He loves me with them all.
I, he may love, but when he marries you
Your Bridal shall be kept in some dark Dungeon.
Farwel, and think of that, too easie Maid,
[Page 27] I blush, thou shar'st my bloud.————
Exeunt Queen, Asteria.
In humane Queen!
Thou canst not be more willing to resign
Thy part in me, then I to give up mine:
Love, how few Subjects do thy Laws fulfil,
And yet those few, like us, thou usest ill!
The greatest slaves, in Monarchies, are they,
Whom Birth sets nearest to Imperial sway.
While jealous pow'r does sullenly o're spy,
We play like Deer within the Lions eye.
Would I for you some Shepherdess had been;
And, but each May, ne're heard the name of Queen.
If you were so, might I some Monarch be,
Then, you should gain what now you loose by me:
Then, you in all my glories should have part,
And rule my Empire, as you rule my heart.
How much our golden wishes are in vain?
When they are past we are our selves again.
Enter Queen and Asteria above.
Look, look Asteria, yet they are not gone.
Hence, we may hear what they discourse alone.
My Love inspires me with a gen'rous thought
Which you unknowing, in those wishes taught.
Since happiness may out of Courts be found
Why stay we here on this enchanted ground?
And choose not rather with content to dwell
(If Love and we can find it) in a Cell?
Those who, like you, have once in Courts been great,
May think they wish, but wish not to retreat.
They seldom go but when they cannot stay;
As loosing Gamesters throw the Dice away:
Ev'n in that Cell, where you repose would find,
Visions of Court will haunt your restless mind;
And glorious dreams stand ready to restore
The pleasing shapes of all you had before.
[Page 28] Phil.
He, who with your possession once is blest,
On easie terms may part with all the rest.
All my Ambition will in you be crown'd;
And those white Arms shall all my wishes bound.
Our life shall be but one long Nuptial day,
And, like chaf't Odours, melt in Sweats away.
Soft as the Night our Minutes shall be worn,
And chearful as the Birds that wake the Morn.
Thus hope misleads it self in pleasant way;
And takes mores joyes on trust then Love can pay!
But Love, with long possession, once decayd,
That face which now you Court, you will upbraid.
False Lovers broach these tenets, to remove
The fault from them by placing it on Love.—
Yet grant in Youth you keep alive your Fire,
Old age will come, and then it must expire:
Youth but a while does at Loves Temple stay,
As some fair Inn to lodge it on the way.
Your doubts are kind; but to be satisfy'd,
I can be t [...]ue, I beg I may be try'd.
Tryals of love too dear the making cost;
For, if successless, the whole venture's lost.
What you propose, brings wants and care along.
Love can bear both. (Cand.) but is your love so strong?
They do not want, who wish not to have more;
Who ever said an Anchoret was poor?
To answer gen'rously as you have done,
I should not by your arguments be wonn:
I know I urge your ruine by consent;
Yet love too well that ruine to prevent.
Like water giv'n to those whom Feavers fry,
You kill but him, who must without it die.
Secure me I may love without a Crime;
Then, for our flight, appoint both place and time.
Th'ensuing hour my plighted vows shall be;
The time's not long; or onely long to me.
Then, let us go where we shall ne'r be seen
[Page 29] By my hard Mother (Phil.) or my cruel Queen.
Exeunt Phil. Cand.
Queen above.
O Philocles unkind to call me cruel!
So false Aeneas did from Dido fly;
But never branded her with cruelty.
How I despise my self for loving so!
At once you hate your self and love him too.
No, his ingratitude has cur'd my wound:
A painful cure indeed! (Ast.) and yet not sound.
His ignorance of your true thoughts
Excuses this; you did seem cruel, Madam.
But much of kindness still was mix'd with it.
Who could mistake so grosly not to know
A Cupid frowning when he draws his Bowe?
He's going now to smart for his offence:
Should he without my leave depart from hence?
No matter; since you hate him, let him go.
But I my hate by my revenge will show:
Besides, his head's a forfeit to the State.
When you take that I will believe you hate.
Let him possess, and then he'll soon repen [...]
And so his Crime will prove his punishment.
He may repent; but he will first possess:
O, Madam, now your hatred you confess:
If, his possessing her your rage does move,
'Tis jealousie the avarice of love.
No more, Asteria.
Seek Lysimantes out, bid him set Guards through all the Court and City.
Prevent their marriage first; then stop their flight.
Some fitting punishments I will ordain,
But speak not you of Philocles again:
'Tis bold to search, and dangerous to find,
Too much of Heaven's, or of a Princes mind.
[Qu. descends and exit.
[Page 30] As the Queen has done speaking, Flavia is going hastily over the Stage; Asteria sees her.
Flavia, Flavia, Whither so fast?
Did you call, Asteria?
The Queen has business with Prince Lysimantes;
Speak to any Gentleman that's next, to fetch him.
Exit Asteria from above.
I suspect somewhat, but I'le watch you close;
Prince Lysimantes has not chose in me,
The worst Spy of the Court.—Celadon! what makes he here!
Enter Celadon, Olinda, Sabina; they walk over the Stage together, he seeming to court them.
Nay, sweet Celadon.
Nay, dear Celadon.

O-ho. I see his business now, 'tis with Melissa's two Daugh­ters: Look look, how he peeps about to see if the Coast be clear; like an Hawk that will not plume if she be look'd on.—

Exeunt Cel. Ol. Sab.

So—at last he has truss'ed his quarry.—

Enter Florimell.
Did you see Celadon this way?

If you had not ask'd the question, I should have thought you had come from watching him; he's just gone off with Melissa's Daughters.

Melissa's Daughters! he did not Court 'em I hope?

So busily, he lost no time: while he was teaching the one a tune, he was kissing the others hand.

O fine Gentleman!

And they so greedy of him! Did you never see two Fishes about a Bait, tugging it this way, and t'other way; for my part, I look'd at least he should have lost a Leg or Arm i'th service.—Nay never vex your self, but e en resolve to break with him.


No no, 'tis not come to that, yet; I'le correct him first, and then hope the best from time.


From time! Believe me, there's little good to be expected from him. I never knew the old Gentleman with the Scythe and Hour­glass [Page 31] bring any thing but gray hair, thin cheeks, and loss of teeth: you see Celadon loves others.


There's the more hope he may love me among the rest: hang't, I would not marry one of these solemn Fops; they are good for nothing but to make Cuckolds: Give me a servant that is an high Flier at all games, that is bounteous of himself to many wo­men; and yet whenever I pleas'd to throw out the lure of Matrimo­ny, should come down with a swing, and fly the better at his own quarry.


But are you sure you can take him down when you think good?

Nothing more certain.
What wager will you venture upon the Trial?
Any thing.
My Maydenhead to yours.
That's a good one, who shall take the forfeit?

I'le go and write a Letter as from these two Sisters, to sum­mon him immediately; it shall be deliver'd before you. I warrant you see a strange combat betwixt the Flesh and the Spirit: if he leaves you to go to them, you'l grant he loves them better?


Not a jot the more: a Bee may pick of many Flowers, and yet like some one better then all the rest.

But then your Bee must not leave his sting behind him.

Well; make the experiment however: I hear him coming, and a whole noise of Fiddles at his heels. Hey-day, what a mad Husband shall I have?—

Enter Celadon.

And what a mad wife will he have? Well, I must goe a little way, but I'le return immediately and write it: You'l keep him in discourse the while?

[Exit Flav.

Where are you, Madam? what do you mean to run away thus? pray stand to't, that we may dispatch this busine [...]s.


I think you mean to watch me as they do Witches, to make me confess I love you. Lord, what a bustle have you kept this Af­ternoon? what with eating, singing and dancing, I am so wearied, that I shall not be in case to hear of any more love this fortnight.


Nay, if you surfeit on't before Tryal, Lord have mercy upon you when I have married you.

[Page 32] Flor.

But what Kings Revenue do you think will maintain this ex­travagant expence?


I have a damnable Father, a rich old Rogue, if he would once die! Lord, how long does he mean to make it ere he dies!

As long as ever he can, I'le pass my word for him.

I think then we had best consider him as an obstinate old fel­low that is deaf to the news of a better world; and ne're stay for him.


But e'en marry; and get him Grandchildren in abundance, and great Grandchildren upon them, and so inch him and shove him out of the world by the very force of new Generations:—If that be the way you must excuse me.

But dost thou know what it is to be an old Maid?
No, nor hope I sha'n't these twenty years.

But when that time comes, in the first place thou wilt be con­demned to tell Stories, how many men thou mightest have had; and none believe thee: Then thou growest froward, and impudently wea­riest all thy Friends to sollicite Man for thee.


Away with your old Common-place wit: I am resolved to grow fat and look young till forty, and then slip out of the world with the first wrinckle, and the reputation of five and twenty.

Well, what think you now of a reckoning betwixt us?
How do you mean?

To discount for so many dayes of my years service, as I have paid in since morning.

With all my heart.
Inprimis, For a Treat:
Item, For my Glass Coach:
Item, For sitting bare, and wagging your Fann:
And lastly, and principally, for my Fidelity to you this long hour and half,

For this I'bate you three Weeks of your Service; now hear your Bill of Faults; for your comfort 'tis a short one.

I know it.

Inprimis, Item, and Sum totall, for keeping company with Melissa's Daughters.


How the Pox came you to know of that: 'Gad I believe the Devil plays booty against himself, and tels you of my fins.

[Page 33] Flor.

The offence being so small the punishment shall be but pro­portionable, I will set you back onely half a year.


You're most unconscionable: why then do you think we shall come together? there's none but the old Patriarchs could live long enough to marry you at this rate. What do you take me for some Cousin of Methusalem's, that I must stay an hundred years before I come to beget Sons and Daughters?


Heres an impudent Lover, he complains of me without e­ver off ring to excuse himself; Item, a fortnight more for that.


So ther's another puff in my voyage has blown me back to the North of Scotland.

All this is nothing to your excuse for the two Sisters.
'Faith if ever I did more then kiss 'em, and that but once—
What could you have done more to me?

An hundred times more; as thou shalt know, dear Rogue, at time convenient.


You talk, you talk; Could you kiss 'em, though but once, and ne're think of me?


Nay if I had thought of thee, I had kiss'd 'em over a thou­sand times, with the very force of imagination.


The Gallants are mightily beholding to you, you have found 'em out a new way to kiss their Mistresses, upon other womens lips.


What would you have? You are my Sultana Queen, the rest are but in the nature of your Slaves; I may make some slight excur­sion into the Enemies Country for forage or so, but I ever return to my head quarters.

Enter one with a Letter.
To me?
If your name be Celadon.
[Celad. reads softly.

He's swallowing the Pill; presently we shall see the opera­tion.

[Cel. to the Page.]

Child, come hither Child; here's money for thee: So, be gone quickly good Child, before any body examines thee: Thou art in a dangerous place, Child.—

[Thrusts him out.

Very good, the Sisters send me word they will have the Fiddles this Afternoon, and invites me to sup there!—Now cannot I forbear and I should be damn'd, though I have scap'd a scouring so lately for [Page 34] it. Yet I love Florimel better then both of 'em together;—there's the Riddle o'nt: but onely for the sweet sake of variety.—


Well, we must all sin, and we must all repent, and there's an end on't.

What is it that makes you fidg up and down so?

'Faith I am sent for by a very dear friend, and 'tis upon a bu­siness of life and death.

On my life some woman?
On my honour some man; Do you think I would lye to you?
But you engag'd to sup with me!
But I consider it may be scandalous to stay late in your Lodgings.
Adieu dear Miss if ever I am false to thee again.
[Exit Cel.

See what constant metal you men are made of! He begins to vex me in good earnest. Hang him, let him go and take enough of 'em: and yet methinks I can't endure he should neither. Lord, that such a Mad-Cap as I should ever live to be jealous!

I must after him.
Some Ladies would discard him now, but I
A fitter way for my revenge will find,
Ile marry him, and serve him in his kind.
[Exit Florimel.

SCENE, The Walks.

Melissa, after her Olinda and Sabina.

I Must take this business up in time: this wild fellow be­gins to haunt my house again. Well, I'le be bold to say it, 'tis as easie to bring up a young Lyon, without mischief, as a Maidenhead of Fifteen, to make it tame for an Husbands bed. Not but that the young man is handsome, rich and young, and I could be content he should marry one of 'em but to seduce 'em both in this manner.—Well, I'le examine 'em apart, and if I can find out [Page 35] which he loves, 'Ile offer him his choice.—Olinda, Come hither Child.—

Your pleasure, Madam?

Nothing but for your good Olinda, what think you of Ce­ladon?


Why I think he's a very mad fellow; but yet I have some obligements to him: he teaches me new ayres on the Guitarre, and talks wildely to me, and I to him.

But tell me in earnest, do you think he loves you?

Can you doubt it? There were never two so cut out for one another; we both love Singing, Dancing, Treats and Musick. In short, we are each others counterpart.

But does he love you seriously?

Seriously! I know not that; if he did, perhaps I should not love him: but we sit and talk, and wrangle, and are friends; when we are together we never hold our tongues; then we have always a noise of Fiddles at our heels, he hunts me merrily as the Hound does the Hare; and either this is Love, or I know it not.


Well, go back, and call Sabina to me.

Olinda goes behind

This is a Riddle past my finding out: whether he loves her or no is the question; but this I am sure of, she loves him:—O my little Favourite, I must ask you a question concerning Celadon: Is he in love with you?


I think indeed he does not hate me, at least if a mans word may be taken for it.

But what expressions has he made you?

Truly the man has done his part: he has spoken civilly to me, and I was not so young but I understood him.

And you could be content to marry him?

I have sworn never to marry; besides, he's a wild young man; yet to obey you, Mother, I could be content to be sacrific'd.

No, no, we wou'd but lead you to the Altar.

Not to put off the Gentleman neither; for if I have him not I am resolv'd to die a Maid, that's once, Mother.—


Both my Daughters are in love with him, and I cannot yet find he loves either of 'em.

Mother, mother, yonder's Celadon in the walks.

Peace wanton; you had best ring the Bells for joy. Well, I'le not meet him, because I know not which to offer him; yet he seems to like the youngest best: I le give him opportunity with her; Olinda, do you make haste after me.

This is something hard though.
[Exit Mel.
Enter Celadon.

You see Ladies the least breath of yours brings me to you: I have been seeking you at your Lodgings, and from thence came hi­ther after you.

'T was well you found us.

Found you! Half this brightness betwixt you two was e­nough to have lighted me; I could never miss my way: Here's fair Olinda has beauty enough for one Family; such a voice, such a wit, so noble a stature, so white a skin.

I thought he would be particular at last.

And young Sabina, so sweet an innocence, Such a Rose-bud newly blown.

This is my goodly Pallace of Love, and that my little withdrawing Room. A word, Madam.

[To Sab.

I like not this—


Sir, if you are not too busie with my Sister, I would speak with you.

I come, Madam.—

Time enough Sir; pray finish your Discourse,—and as you were a saying, Sir—

Sweet Sir.—
Sister, you forget, my Mother bid you make haste.
Well, go you and tell her I am coming.—

I [...] never endure to be the Messenger of ill news; but if you plea [...] [...] send her word you won't come.—

Minion, Minion, remember this.——
Exit Olinda.
She's horribly in love with you.

Lord, who could love that walking Steeple: She's so high that every time She sings to me, I am looking up for the Bell that tolls to Church.—Ha! Give me my little Fifth-rate! that lies so snug.—She, hang her, a Duch built bottom: she's so tall, there's no boarding her. But we lose time—Madam, let me seal my love upon your mouth.


Soft and sweet by Heaven! sure you wear Rose-leaves between your lips.

Lord, Lord; What's the matter with me! my breath grows so short I can scarce speak to you.

No matter, give me thy lips again and I'le speak for thee.
You don't love me.—

I warrant thee; set down by me and kiss again.———

She warms faster then Pygmalion's Image.—


—I marry sir, this was the original use of lips; talking, eating, and drinking came in bith' by.—

Nay pray be civil; will you be at quiet?

What would you have me set still and look upon you like a little Puppy dog that's taught to beg with his fore-leg up?

Enter Florimell.
Celadon the faithful! in good time Sir.—

In very good time Florimell; for Heavens sake help me quickly.

What's the matter?

Do not you see! here's a poor Gentlewoman in a swoon! (swoon away!) I have been rubbing her this half hour, and cannot bring her to her senses.

Alas, how came she so?

Oh barbarous! do you stay to ask questions, run for cha­rity.

Help, help, alas poor Lady.—
[Exit Flor.
Is she gone?

I thanks to my wit that helpt me at a pinch; I thank Heaven, I never pumpt for a lye in all my life yet.

I am affraid you love her, Celadon!

Onely as a civil acquaintance or so, but however to avoid slan­der you had best be gone before she comes again.

I can find a tongue as well as she——

I, but the truth is, I am a kind of scandalous person, and for you to be seen in my company—Stay in the walks, by this kiss I'le be with you presently.—————

Exit Sab.
Enter Florimell running.
Help, help, I can find no body.

'Tis needless now my dear, she's recover'd, and gone off, but so wan and weakly.—

[Page 38] Flor.

Umh! I begin to smell a ratt, what was your business here, Celadon?


Charity, Christian charity; you saw I was labouring for life with her.


But how came you hither; not that I care this,—but onely to be satisfied————.

You are jealous in my Conscience.

Who I jealous! Then I wish this sigh may be the last that e­ver I may draw.—

But why do you sigh then?

Nothing but a cold, I cannot fetch my breath well.——But what will you say if I write the Letter you had, to try your faith?


Hey-day! This is just the Devil and the Sinner; you lay snares for me, and then punish me for being taken; here's trying a man's Faith indeed: What did you think I had the faith of a Stock, or of a Stone? Nay, and you go to tantalize a man,—'gad I love upon the square, I can endure no tricks to be used to me.

Olinda and Sabina at the door Peeping.
Ol. and Sab.
Celadon, Celadon!
What voices are those?

Some Camerades of mine that call me to play;———Pox on 'em, they'l spoil all————

A side.
Pray let's see 'em.

Hang 'em Tatterdemallions, they are not worth your sight; 'pray Gentlemen be gone, I'le be with you immediately.

No, we'll stay here for you.

Do your Gentlemen speak with Treble-voices.? I am re­solv'd to see what company you keep.

Nay, good my Dear.——
He lays hold of her to pull her back; she lays hold of Olinda, by whom Sabina holds; so that he pulling, they all come in.

Are these your Comerades?


'Tis Strephon calls what would my love?

Why do not you roar out like a great Bass-vyal, Come follow to the Myrtle-grove. Pray Sir, which of these fair Ladies is it, for whom you were' to do the courtesie, for it were unconscionable to leave you to 'em both; What a man's but a man you know.

The Gentleman may find an owner.
Though not of you.
Pray agree whose the lost sheep is, and take him.
'Slife they'l cry me anon, and tell my marks.

Troth I pity your Highness there, I perceive he has left you for the little one: Me thinks he should have been affraid to break his neck when he fell so high as from you to her.

Well my drolling Lady, I may be even with you.—
Not this ten years by thy growth, yet.
Can flesh and blood endure this!—
How now, my Amazon in decimo sexto!—
Do you affront my Sister?———
I, but thou art so tall, I think I shall never affront thee.—
Come away Sister, we shall be jeer'd to Death else.
[Exeunt Olin. Sab.

Why do you look that way, you can'nt forbear leering after the forbidden Fruit.——But when e're I take a Wenchers word again!—


A Wenchers word! Why should you speak so contemptibly of the better half of Mankind. I'le stand up for the honour of my Vocation.

You are in no fault I warrant;—'ware my busk—

Not to give a fair Lady the lye, I am in fault;—but other­wise.—Come let us be friends; and let me wait you to your Lodg­ings.


This impudence shall not save you from my Table-book. Item. A Month more for this fault.—

[They walk to the door.
1. Souldier within.
2. Souldier.
Stand, give the word.
Now, whats the meaning of this trow, guards set.
1. Souldier.

Give the word, or you cannot pass; these are they brother; let's in, and seize em.

The two Souldiers enter—
1. Sould.
—Down with him.
2. Sould.
Disarm him.
How now Rascalls;—
Draws and beats one off, and catches the other,
Ask your life you villain.
2. Sould.
Quarter, quarter.
Was ever such an Insolence?

We did but our duty; here we were set, to take a Gen­tleman and Lady, that would steal a marriage without the Queens consent, and we thought you had been they.

[Exit Sould

Your Cousin Philocles and the Princess Candiope on my life! for I heard the Queen give private Orders to Lysimantes, and name them twice or thrice.


I know a score or two of Madcaps here hard by, whom I can pick up from Taverns and Gaming-houses, and Bordells; those I'le bring to aid him: Now Florimell, there's an argument for wenching; where would you have had so many honest men together upon the sudden for a brave employment?

You'l leave me then to take my fortune?

No; if you will, I'le have you into the places aforesaid, and enter you into good company.


'Thank you Sir, here's a key will let me through this back­door to my own Lodgings.


If I come off with life, I'le see you this evening, if not—Adieu Florimell.


If you come not I shall conclude you are kill'd, or taken; to be hang'd for a Rebel tomorrow morning,—and then I'le honour your memory with a Lampoon instead of an Epitaph.


No no, I trust better in my Fate: I know I am reserv'd to do you a Courtesie.

[Exit Celadon.
As Florimell is unlocking the door to go out; Flavia opens it against her, and enters to her, followed by a Page.
Flav. and Florimel.
do you hear the News?
I guess they are in pursuit of Philocles.
When Lysimantes came with the Queens Orders,
He refused to render up Candiope;
And with some few brave friends he had about him
Is forcing of his way through all the Guards.
A gallant fellow: I'le in, will you with me.
Hark, the noise comes this way!
I have a message from the Queen to Lysimantes,
[Page 41] I hope I may be safe among the Souldiers.

Oh very safe, perhaps some honest fellow in the tumult may take pity of thy Maidenhead, or so—Adiew.

Page 1.
The noise comes nearer, Madam.
[Exit Florimell.

I am glad on't: this message gives me the opportunity of speaking privately with Lysimantes.

Enter Philocles and Candiope, with three friends; pursued by Lysimantes and Souldiers.

What is it renders you thus obstinate? you have no hope of flight, and to resist is full as vain.

I'le die, rather then yield her up.

My Lord!


how now, some new message from the Queen?

To Sould.]

Retire a while to a convenient distance.

Lys. and Flav. whisper.
O Flavia 'tis impossible! the Queen in love with Philocles!
I half suspected it before; but now,
My ears and eyes are witnesses.—
This hour I over-heard her to Asteria.
Making such sad complaints of her hard fate!
For my part I believe you lead him back
But to his Coronation.
Hell take him first.
Presently after this she call'd for me,
And bid me run, and with strict care command you
On peril of your life he had no harm:
But, Sir, she spoke it with so great concernment,
Me thought I saw love, anger and despair
All combating at once upon her face.
Tell the Queen—I know not what, I am distracted so;—
But go and leave me to my thoughts.—
[Exit Flavia.
Was ever such amazing news
Told in so strange and critical a moment!
What shall I do!
Does she love Philocles, who loves not her;
And loves not Lysimantes who prefers her
Above his life! what rests but that I take
This opportunity, which she her self
[Page 42] Has given me, to kill this happy Rival!
Assist me Souldiers.
They shall buy me dearly.
Ah me, unhappy maid!
Enter Celadon with his Friends, unbutton'd and reeling.
Courage my noble Cousin, I have brought
A band of Blades, the bravest youths of Syracuse:
Some drunk, some sober, all resolv'd to run
Your fortune to the utmost. Fall on mad Boyes——
Hold, a little;—
I'm not secur'd of victory against these desperate ruffins.

No, but I'le secure you; they shall cut your throat for such another word of 'em. Ruffins quoth a! call Gamesters, and Whore­masters, and Drunkards, Ruffins!—

Pray Gentlemen fall back a little—
O ho, are they Gentlemen now with you!
Speak first to your Gentlemen Souldiers to retire; and then
I'le spe [...]k to my Gentlemen Ruffians.
[Cel. Signs to his party,]
There's your disciplin'd men now.—
They sing and the Souldiers retire on both sides.

Come Gentlemen, let's lose no time; while they are talking, let's have one merry mayn before we die—for Mortality sake.

Agreed, here's my Cloak for a Table.
And my Hat for a Box.—
[They lie down and throw.
Suppose I kill'd him!
'Twould but exasperate the Queen the more:
He loves not her, nor knows he she loves him:
A sudden thought is come into my head—
So to contrive it, that this Philocles,
And these his friends shall bring to pass that for me
Which I could never compass.—True I strain
A point of honour; but then her usage to me, it shall be so—
Pray, Philocles, command your Souldiers off,
As I will mine: I've somewhat to propose
Which you perhaps may like.
I will not leave him.
—'Tis my desire you should not.
[Page 43] Phil.
—Cousin, lead off your friends.

—One word in your ear Couz. Let me advise you; either make your own conditions, or never agree with him: his men are poor sober Rogues, they can never stand before us.

Exeunt omnes praeter Lys. Phil. Cand.
Suppose some friend, e're night,
Should bring you to possess all you desire;
And not so onely, but secure for ever
The Nations happiness—
I would think of him
As of some God, or Angel.
That God or Angel you and I may be to one another,
We have betwixt us
An hundred men; The Cittadel you govern:
What were it now to seize the Queen!
O impiety! to seize the Queen!
To seize her, said you?
The word might be too rough, I meant secure her.
Was this your proposition,
And had you none to make it to but to me?
Pray hear me out e're you condemn me:
I would not the least violence were offer'd
Her person; two small grants is all I ask,
To make me happy in her self, and you
In your Candiope.
And will not you do this, my Philocles?
Nay now my Brother speaks but reason.
Int'rest makes all seem reason that leads to it.
Int'rest that does the zeal of Sects create,
To purge a Church, and to reform a State.
In short, the Queen hath sent to part you two;
What more she means to her, I know not.
To her! alas! why will not you protect her?
With you I can; but where's my power alone?
You know she loves me not: you lately heard her
How she insulted over me: how she
Despis'd that beauty which you say I have;
I see she purposes my death.
[Page 44] Phil.
Why do you fright me with it?
'Tis in your Brothers pow'r to let us 'scape,
And then you run no danger.
True, I may;
But then my head must pay the forfeit of it.
O wretched Philocles, whither would love
Hurry thee headlong!
Cease these exclamations.
Ther's no danger on your side: 'tis but
To live without my Sister, resolve that
And you have shot the gulf.
To live without her! is that nothing think you?
The damn'd in Hell endure no greater pain
Then seeing Heaven from far with hopeless eyes.
Candiope must die, and die for you;
See it not unreveng'd at least.
Ha, unreveng'd! on whom should I revenge it?
But yet she dies, and I may hinder it;
'Tis I then murder my Candiope:
And yet should I take armes against my Queen!
That favour'd me, rais'd me to what I am!
Alas, it must not be.
He cools again.—
True; she once favour'd you;
But now I am inform'd,
She is besotted on an upstart wretch;
So far, that she intends to make him Master,
Both of her Crown and person.
Knows he that!
Then, what I dreaded most is come to pass.—
I am convinc'd of the necessity;
Let us make haste to raze
That action from Annals of her Reign:
No motive but her glory could have wrought me.
I am a Traytor to her, to preserve her
From Treason to her self; and yet Heav'n knows
With what a heavy heart
Philocles turns reformer: but have care
This fault of her strange passion take no air.
[Page 45] Let not the vulgar blow upon her fame.
I will be careful, shall we go my Lord:
Time wasts apace; Each first prepare his men.
Come my Candiope.
Exeunt Phil. Cand.
This ruines him forever with the Queen;
The odium's half his, the profit all my own.
Those who, like me, by others help would climb,
To make 'em sure, must dip 'em in their crime.
Exit Lys.

SCENE II. The Queens appartments.

Enter Queen and Asteria.
No more news yet from Philocles?
None, Madam, since Flavia's return!
O my Asteria, if you lov'd me, sure
You would say something to me of my Philocles;
I could speak ever of him.
Madam, you commanded me no more to name him to you.
Then I command you now to speak of nothing else:
I charge you here, on your allegiance, tell me
What I should do with him.
When you gave orders that he should be taken,
You seem'd resolv'd how to dispose of him.
Dull Asteria not to know,
Mad people never think the same thing twice.
Alas, I'm hurried restless up and down,
I was in anger once, and then I thought
I had put into shore!
But now a gust of love blows hard against me,
And bears me off again.
Shall I sing the Song you made of Philocles,
And call'd it Secret-love.
Do, for that's all kindness: and while thou sing'st it,
I can think nothing but what pleases me.
I Feed a flame within which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die, then once remove it.
Yet he for whom I grieve shall never know it,
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it:
Not a sigh nor a tear my pain discloses,
But they fall silently like dew on Roses.
Thus to prevent my love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice as 'tis the fuel:
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love, no frown can fright me:
To be more happy I dare not aspire;
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.
Peace: Me thinks I hear the noise
Of clashing Swords, and clatt'ring Armes, below.
Enter Flavia.
Now; what news that you press in so rudely?
Madam, the worst that can be;
Your Guards upon the sudden are surpris'd,
Disarm'd, some slain, all scatter'd.
By whom?
Prince Lysimantes, and Lord Philocles.
It cannot be; Philocles is a Prisoner.
What my eyes saw—
Pull 'em out, they are false Spectacles.
O vertue, impotent and blind as Fortune!
Who would be good, or pious, if this Queen
Thy great Example suffers!
Peace, Asteria, accuse not vertue;
She has but given me a great occasion
Of showing what I am when Fortune leaves me.
Philocles, to do this!
I, Philocles, I must confess 'twas hard!
But there's a fate in kindness
Still, to be least return'd where most 'tis given.
Where's Candiope?
Philocles was whispering to her.
Hence Screech-owl; call my Guards quickly there:
Put 'em apart in several Prisons.
Alas! I had forgot I have no Guards,
But those which are my Jaylors.
Never till now unhappy Queen:
The use of pow'r, till lost, is seldom known;
Now I would strike, I find my Thunder gone.
Exit Queen and Flavia.
Philocles enters, and meets Asteria going out.
Asteria! Where's the Queen?
Ah my Lord what have you done!
I came to seek you.
Is it from her you come?
No, but on her behalf: her heart's too great,
In this low ebb of Fortune, to intreat.
'Tis but a short Ecclipse,
Which past, a glorious day will soon ensue:
But I would ask a favour too, from you.
When Conquerors petition, they command:
Those that can Captive Queens, who can withstand?
[Page 48] Phil.
She, with her happiness, might mine create;
'Yet seems indulgent to her own ill fate:
But she, in secret, hates me fure; for why
If not, should she Candiope deny?
If you dare trust my knowledg of her mind,
She has no thoughts of you that are unkind.
I could my sorrows with some patience bear,
Did they proceed from any one but her:
But from the Queen! whose person I adore,
By Duty much, by inclination more.——
He is inclin'd already, did he know
That she lov'd him, how would his passion grow!
That her fair hand with Destiny combines!—
Fate ne're strikes deep, but when unkindness joynes!
For, to confess the secret of my mind,
Something so tender for the Queen I find,
That ev'n Candiope can scarce remove,
And, were she lower, I should call it love.
She charg'd me not this secret to betray,
But I best serve her if I disobey:
For, if he loves, 'twas for her int'rest done;
If not, he'll keep it secret for his own.
Why are you in obliging me so slow?
The thing's of great importance you would know;
And you must first swear secresie to all.
I swear:
Yet hold; your oath's too general:
Swear that Candiope shall never know.
I swear:
No not the Queen her self:
I vow.
You wonder why I am so cautious grown
In telling, what concerns your self alone:
But spare my Vow, and guess what it may be
That makes the Queen deny Candiope:
'Tis neither hate nor pride that moves her mind;
Methinks the Riddle is not hard to find.
You seem so great a wonder to intend,
As were, in me, a crime to apprehend.
'Tis not a crime, to know; but would be one
To prove ungrateful when your Duty's known.
[Page 49] Phil.
Why would you thus my easie faith abuse!
I cannot think the Queen so ill would chuse.
But stav, now your imposture will appear;
She has her self confess'd she lov'd elsewhere:
Or some ignoble choice has plac'd her heart,
One who wants quality, and more, desert.
This, though unjust, you have most right to say,
For, if you'l rail against your self, you may
Dull that I was!
A thousand things now crowd my memory
That make me know it could be none but I.
Her Rage was Love: and its tempestuous flame,
Like Lightning, show'd the Heaven from whence it came.
But in her kindness my own shame I see;
Have I dethron'd her then, for loving me?
I hate my self for that which I have done,
Much more, discover'd, then I did unknown.
How does she brook her strange imprisonment?
As great souls should, that make their own content.
The hardest term she for your act could find
Was onely this, O Philocles, unkind!
Then, setting free a sigh, from her fair eyes
She wip'd two pearls, the remnants of mild show'rs,
Which hung, like drops upon the bells of flowers:
And thank'd the Heav'ns,
Which better did, what she design'd, pursue,
Without her crime to give her pow'r to you.
Hold, hold, you set my thoughts so near a Crown,
They mount above my reach to pull them down:
Here Constancy; Ambition there does move;
On each side Beauty, and on both sides Love.
Me thinks the least you can is to receive
This love, with reverence, and your former leave.
Think but what difficulties come between!
'Tis wond'rous difficult to love a Queen.
For pity cease more reasons to provide,
I am but too much yielding to your side;
And, were my heart but at my own dispose,
[Page 50] I should not make a scruple where to choose.
Then if the Queen will my advice approve,
Her hatred to you shall expel her love.
Not to be lov'd by her, as hard would be
As to be hated by Candiope.
I leave you to resolve while you have time;
You must be guilty, but may choose your crime.
Exit Asteria.
One thing I have resolv'd; and that I'le do
Both for my love, and for my honour too.
But then, (Ingratitude and falshood weigh'd,)
I know not which would most my soul upbraid.
Fate shoves me headlong down, a rugged way;
Unsafe to run, and yet too steep to stay.
[Exit Phil.

SCENE The Court.

Florimel in Mans Habit.

'T Will be rare now if I can go through with it, to out-do this mad Celadon in all his tricks, and get both his Mistresses from him; then I shall revenge my self upon all three, and save my own stake into the bargain; for I find I do love the Rogue in spight of all his infidelities. Yonder they are, and this way they must come.—if cloathes and a bon meen will take 'em, I shall do't.—Save you Monsieur Florimell; Faith me thinks you are a very janty fellow, poudré & ajusté as well as the best of 'em. I can manage the little Comb,—set my Hat, shake my Garniture, toss about my empty Noddle, walk with a courant slurr, and at every step peck down my Head:—if I should be mistaken for some Courtier now, pray where's the difference?—

Enter to her Celadon, Olinda, Sabina.
Never mince the matter!
You have left your heart behind with Florimell; we know it.

You know you wrong me; when I am with Florimell 'tis still your Prisoner, it onely draws a longer chain after it.


Is it e'en so! then farwell poor Florimell, thy Maidenhead is condemned to die with thee—


But let's leave the discourse; 'tis all digression that does not speak of your beauties.—


Now for me in the name of impudence!—

[walks with them.

They are the greatest beauties I confess that ever I beheld.—

How now, what's the meaning of this young fellow?

And therefore I cannot wonder that this Gentleman who has the honour to be known to you should admire you,—since I that am a stranger—

And a very impudent one, as I take it, Sir.—

Am so extreamly surpriz'd, that I admire, love, am wounded, and am dying all in a moment.


I have seen him somewhere, but where I know not! prithee my friend leave us, dost thou think we do not know our way in Court?


I pretend not to instruct you in your way; you see I do not go before you! but you cannot possibly deny me the happiness to wait upon these Ladies; me, who.—


Thee, who shalt be beaten most unmercifully if thou dost fol­low them!—

You will not draw in Court I hope!—
Pox on him, let's walk away faster, and be rid of him.—

O take no care for me, Sir, you shall not lose me, I'le rather mend my pace then not wait on you.

I begin to like this fellow.—

You make very bold here in my Seraglio, and I shall find a time to tell you so, Sir.


When you find a time to tell me on't, I shall find a time to answer you: But pray what do you find in your self so extraordinary, that you should serve these Ladies better then I; let me know what 'tis you value your self upon, and let them Judg betwixt us.

I am somewhat more a man then you.

That is, you are so much older then I: Do you like a man ever the better for his age Ladies?

Well said, young Gentleman.

Pish, thee! a young raw Creature, thou hast ne're been un­der the Barbers hands yet.

No, nor under the Surgeons neither as you have been.
'Slife what wouldst thou be at, I am madder then thou art?

The Devil you are; I'le Tope with you, I'le Sing with you, I'le Dance with you,—I'le Swagger with you.—

I'le fight with you.

Out upon fighting; 'tis grown so common a fashion, that a Modish man contemns it; A man of Garniture and Feather is a­bove the dispensation of the Sword.


Uds my life, here's the Queens Musick just going to us; you shall decide your quarrel by a Dance.

Who stops the Fiddles?

Base and Trebble, by your leaves we arrest you at these La­dies suits.

Come on Sirs, play me a Jigg,
You shall see how I'le baffle him.
Your judgment, Ladies.

You sir, you sir: This is the rarest Gentleman: I could live and die with him.——


Lord how he Sweats! please you Sir to make use of my Handkerchief:


You and I are merry, and just of an humour Sir; therefore we two should love one another.


And you and I are just of an age Sir, and therefore me thinks we should not hate one another.


Then I perceive Ladies I am a Castaway, a Reprobate with you: why faith this is hard luck now, that I should be no less then one whole hour in getting your affections, and now must lose 'em in a quarter of it.

No matter, let him rail, does the loss afflict you Sir?

No in faith does it not; for if you had not forsaken me, I had you: so the Willows may flourish for any branches I shall rob 'em of.

However we have the advantage to have left you; not you us.


That's onely a certain nimbleness in Nature you women have to be first unconstant: but if you had not made the more haste, the wind was veering too upon my Weathercock: the best on't is Florimell is worth both of you.

'Tis like she'll accept of their leavings.

She will accept on't, and she shall accept on't; I think I know more then you of her mind Sir.

Enter Melissa.

Daughters there's a poor collation within that waits for you.

Will you walk musty Sir?

No merry Sir; I won'not; I have surfeited of that old womans face already.

Begin some frolick then; what will you do for her?

Faith I am no dog to show tricks for her; I cannot come a­loft for an old Woman.

Dare you kiss her!
I was never dar'd by any man.—by your leave old Madam.—
[He plucks of her Ruff.
Help, help, do you discover my nakedness?
Peace Tiffany! no harm.
[He puts on the Ruff.—
Now Sir here's Florimels health to you.—
[kisses her.

Away sir:—a sweet young man as you are to abuse the gifts of Nature so.


Good Mother do not commend me so; I am flesh and blood, and you do not know what you may pluck upon that reverend per­son of yours.—Come on, follow your leader.

[Gives Florimel the Ruff, she puts it on.
Stand fair Mother.—
What with your Hat on? lie thou there;—and thou too.—
Plucks off her Hat and Perruke, and discovers Florimell.
My kind Mistresses how sorry I am I can do you no further service! I think I had best resign you to Celadon to make amends for me.

Lord what a misfortune it was Ladies, that the Gentleman could not hold forth to you.

We have lost Celadon too.
Come away; this is past enduring.
[Exeunt Mel. Olin.

Well, if ever I believe a man to be a man for the sake of a Perruks and Feather again.—


Come Celadon, shall we make accounts even? Lord what a hanging look was there: indeed if you had been recreant to your Mistress, or had forsworn your love, that sinners face had been but de­cent, but for the vertuous, the innocent, the constant Celadon!


This is not very heroick in you now to insult over a man in his misfortunes; but take heed, you have robb'd me of my two Mi­stresses; I shall grow desperately constant, and all the tempest of my love will fall upon your head: I shall so pay you.


Who you, pay me! you are a banckrupt, cast beyond all possibility of recovery.


If I am a banckrupt I'le be a very honest one; when I cannot pay my debts, at least I'le give you up the possession of my body.


No, I'le deal better with you; since you're unable to pay, I'le give in your bond.

Enter Philocles with a Commanders Staff in his hand, Attended.

Cousin I am sorry I must take you from your company about an earnest business.


There needs no excuse my Lord, we had dispatch'd our af­fairs, and were just parting.——


Will you be going Sir; sweet Sir, damn'd Sir, I have but one word more to say to you.

As I a man of Honour, I'le wait on you some other time.—

By these Breeches.—Flor. which if I marry you I am re­solv'd to wear; put that into our Bargain, and so adieu Sir.—

[Exit Florimell.
Hark you Cousin——
(They whisper.)
You'll see it exactly executed; I rely upon you.
I shall not fail, my Lord; may the conclusion of it prove hap­py to you.
Exit Celadon.
Philocles solus.
Wheree're I cast about my wond'ring eyes,
[Page 55] Greatness lies ready in some shape to tempt me.
The royal furniture in every room,
The Guards, and the huge waving crowds of people,
All waiting for a sight of that fair Queen
Who makes a present of her love to me:
Now tell me, Stoique!—
If all these with a wish might be made thine,
Would'st thou not truck thy ragged vertue for 'em?
If Glory was a bait that Angels swallow'd
How then should souls ally'd to sence, resist it!
Enter Candiope.
Ah poor Candiope! I pity her,
But that is all.—
O my dear Philocles! A thousand blessings wait on thee!
The hope of being thine, I think will put
Me past my meat and sleep with extasie,
So I shall keep the fasts of Seraphim's,
And wake for joy like Nightingals in May.
Wake Philocles, wake from thy dream of glory,
'Tis all but shadow to Candiope:
Canst thou betray a love so innocent!—
What makes you melancholick? I doubt
I have displeased you?
No my love, I'am not displeas'd with you,
But with my self, when I consider
How little I deserve you.
Say not so my Philocles, a love so true as yours
That would have left a Court, and a Queens favour
To live in a poor Hermitage with me.—
Ha! she has stung me to the quick!
As if she knew the falshood I intended:
But, I thank Heav'n, it has recal'd my vertue.—
[To her]
O my dear, I love you, and you onely;
Go in I have some business for a while;
But I think minutes ages till we meet.
I knew you had; but yet I could not choose
But come and look upon you.—
[Exit Candiope.
[Page 56] Phil.
What barbarous man could wrong so sweet a vertue!
Enter the Queen in black with Asteria.
Madam, the States are straight to meet; but why
In these dark ornaments will you be seen?
—They fit the fortune of a Captive Queen.
—Deep shades are thus to heighten colours set;
So Stars in Night, and Diamonds shine in Jet.
True friends should so, in dark afflictions shine,
But I have no great cause to boast of mine.
You may have too much prejudice for some,
And think 'em false before their trial's come.
But, Madam, what determine you to do?
I come not here to be advis'd by you:
But charge you by that pow'r which once you own'd,
And which is still my right, ev'n when unthron'd;
That whatsoe're the States resolve of me,
You never more think of Candiope.
Not think of her! ah, how should I obey!
Her tyrant eyes have forc'd my heart away.
By force retake it from those tyrant eyes,
I'le grant you out my Letters of Reprize.
She has, too well, prevented that design
By giving me her heart in change for mine.
Thus foolish Indians Gold for Glass forgo,
'Twas to your loss you priz'd your heart so low.
I set its value when you were advanc'd.
And as my favours grew, its rate inhanc'd.
The rate of Subjects hearts by yours must go,
And love in yours has set the value low.
I stand corrected, and my self reprove,
You teach me to repent my low-plac'd love:
Help me this passion from my heart to tear,
Now rail on him, and I will sit and hear.
Madam, like you, I have repented too,
And dare not rail on one I do not know.
This, Philocles, like strange perverseness shows,
As if what e're I said, you would oppose;
How come you thus concern'd, for this unknown?
[Page 57] Phil.
I onely judg his actions by my own.
I've heard too much, and you too much have said,
O Heav'ns, the secret of my soul's betray'd!
He knows my love, I read it in his face,
And blushes, conscious of his Queens disgrace.—
[To him.]
Hence quickly, hence, or I shall die with shame.
Now I love both, and both with equal flame.
Wretched I came, more wretched I retire,
When two winds blow it who can quench the fire!
Exit Philocles.
O my Asteria, I know not whom t'accuse;
But either my own eyes or you, have told
My love to Philocles.
Is't possible that he should know it, Madam!
Me thinks you ask'd that question guiltily.
Her hand on Ast. shoulder.
Confess, for I will know, what was the subject of your long discourse
I'th Antichamber with him.
It was my business to convince him, Madam,
How ill he did, being so much oblig'd,
To joyn in your imprisonment.
Nay, now I am confirm'd my thought was true;
For you could give him no such reason
Of his obligements as my love.
Because I saw him much a Malecontent,
I thought to win him to your int'rest, Madam,
By telling him it was no want of kindness
Made your refusal of Candiope.
And he perhaps—(Qu.) What of him now!
As men are apt, interpreted my words
To all th'advantage he could wrest the sence,
As if I meant you Lov'd him.
Have I deposited within thy breast
The dearest treasure of my life, my glory,
And hast thou thus betray'd me!
But why do I accuse thy female weakness,
And not my own for trusting thee!
Unhappy Queen, Philocles knows thy fondness,
[Page 58] And needs must think it done by thy Command.
Dear Madam, think not so.
Peace, peace, thou should'st for ever hold thy tongue.
For it has spoke too much for all thy life.—
[To her.
Then Philocles has told Candiope,
And courts her kindness with his scorn of me.
O whither am I fallen! But I must rouze my self, and give a stop
To all these ills by headlong passion caus'd;
In hearts resolv'd weak love is put to flight,
And onely conquers when we dare not fight.
But we indulge our harms, and while he gains
An entrance, please our selves into our pains.
Enter Lysimantes.
Prince Lysimantes, Madam!—
Come near you poor deluded criminal;
See how ambition cheats you:
You thought to find a Prisoner here,
But you behold a Queen.
And may you long be so: 'tis true this Act
May cause some wonder in your Majesty.
None, Cousin, none; I ever thought you
Ambitious, Proud, designing.
Yet all my Pride, Designs, and my Ambition
Were taught me by a Master
With whom you are not unacquainted, Madam.
Explain your self; dark purposes, like yours,
Need an Interpretation.
'Tis love I mean. (Qu.) Have my low fortunes giv'n thee
This insolence, to name it to thy Queen?
Yet you have heard love nam'd without offence.
As much below you as you think my passion,
I can look down on yours.—
Does he know it too!
This is th'extreamest malice of my Stars!—
You see, that Princes faults,
(How e're they think 'em safe from publick view)
Fly out through the dark crannies of their Closets:
We know what the Sun does,
[Page 59] Ev'n when we see him not in t'other world.
My actions, Cousin, never fear'd the light.
Produce him then, your darling of the dark,
For such an one you have. (Qu.) I know no such.
You know, but will not own him.
Rebels ne're want pretence to blacken Kings,
And this, it seems, is yours: do you produce him,
Or ne're hereafter sully my Renown
With this aspersion:—Sure he dares not name him.—
I am too tender of your fame; or else—
Nor are things brought to that extremity:
Provided you accept my passion,
I'le gladly yield to think I was deceiv'd.
Keep in your error still; I will not buy
Your good opinion at so dear a rate,
As my own misery by being yours.
Do not provoke my patience by such scornes,
For fear I break through all, and name him to you.
Hope not to fright me with your mighty looks;
Know I dare stem that tempest in your brow,
And dash it back upon you.
Spight of prudence it will out: 'Tis Philocles.
Now judge, when I was made a property
To cheat my self by making him your Prisoner,
Whether I had not right to take up armes?
Poor envious wretch! was this the venome that swell'd up thy brest?
My grace to Philocles mis-deem'd my love!
'Tis true, the Gentleman is innocent;
He ne're sinn'd up so high, not in his wishes;
You know he loves elsewhere.
You mean your Sister.
I wish some Sybil now would tell me
Why you refus'd her to him?
Perhaps I did not think him worthy of her.
Did you not think him too worthy, Madam?
This is too thin a vail to hinder your passion,
To prove you love him not, yet give her him,
[Page 60] And I'le engage my honour to lay down my Armes
He is arriv'd where I would wish—
Call in the company, and you shall see what I will do.——
Who waits without there?—
[Exit Lys.
Now hold, my heart, for this one act of honour,
And I will never ask more courage of thee:
Once more I have the means to reinstate my self into my glory;
I feel my love to Philocles within me
Shrink, and pull back my heart from this hard tryal,
But it must be when glory says it must:
As children wading from some Rivers bank
First try the water with their tender feet;
Then shuddring up with cold, step back again,
And streight a little further venture on,
Till at the last they plunge into the deep,
And pass, at once, what they were doubting long:
I'le make the same experiment; it shall be done in haste,
Because I'le put it past my pow'r t'undo.
Enter at one door Lysimantes, at the other Philocles, Celadon, Candiope, Florimell, Flavia, Olinda, Sabina; the three Deputies, and Soldiers.
In Armes! is all well, Philocles?
No, but it shall be.
He comes, and with him
The fevour of my love returns to shake me.
I see love is not banish'd from my soul,
He is still there, but is chain'd up by glory.
You 've made a noble conquest, Madam.
Come hither, Philocles: I am first to tell you
I and my Cousin are agreed, he has
Engag'd to lay down Armes.
'Tis well for him he has; for all his party
By my command already are surpriz'd,
While I was talking with your Majesty.

Yes 'faith I have done him that courtesie; I brought his followers, under pretence of guarding it, to a straight [Page 61] place where they are all coupt up without use of their Armes, and may be pelted to death by the small infantry o'the town.

'T was more then I expected, or could hope;
Yet still I thought your meaning honest.
My fault was rashness, but 'twas full of zeal:
Nor had I e're been led to that attempt,
Had I not seen it would be done without me:
But by compliance I preserv'd the pow'r
Which I have since made use of for your service.
And which I purpose so to recompence.—
With her Crown she means; I knew 'twould come to 't.
O Heav'ns, she'll own her love!
Then I must lose Candiope for ever,
And floating in a vast abyss of glory,
Seek and not, find my self!——
Take your Candiope; and be as happy
As love can make you both:—how pleas'd I am
That I can force my tongue,
To speak words so far distant from my heart!—
My happiness is more then I can utter!
Methinks I could do violence on my self for taking Armes.
Against a Queen so good, so bountiful:
Give me leave, Madam, in my extasie
Of joy, to give you thanks for Philocles.
You have preserv'd my friend, and now he owes not
His fortunes onely to your favour; but
What's more, his life, and more then that, his love.
I am convinc'd, she never lov'd him now;
Since by her free consent, all force remov'd
She gives him to my Sister.
Flavia was an Impostor and deceiv'd me.—
As for me, Madam, I can onely say
That I beg respit for my thanks; for on the sudden,
The benefit's so great it overwhelmes me.
Mark but th' faintness of th' acknowledgment.
to the Qu. aside.
Qu. to Ast.]
I have observ'd it with you, and am pleas'd
He seems not satisfi'd; for I still wish
[Page 62] That he may love me.
I see Asteria deluded me
With flattering hopes of the Queens love
Onely to draw me off from Lysimantes:
But I will think no more on't.
I'm going to possess Candiope,
And I am ravish'd with the joy on't! ha!
Not ravish'd neither.
For what can be more charming then that Queen!
Behold how night sits lovely on her eye-brows,
While day breaks from her eyes! then, a Crown too:
Lost, lost, for ever lost, and now 'tis gone
'Tis beautifull.———————
How he eyes you still!————
to the Queen.
Sure I had one of the fallen Angels Dreams;
All Heav'n within this hour was mine!————
What is it that disturbs you Dear?
Onely the greatness of my joy:
I've ta'ne too strong a Cordial, love,
And cannot yet digest it.
[Qu. Clapping her hand on Asteria]
'Tis done! but this pang more; and then a glorious birth.
The Tumults of this day, my loyal Subjects
Have setled in my heart a resolution,
Happy for you, and glorious too for me.
First for my Cousin, though attempting on my person,
He has incurr'd the danger of the Laws,
I will not punish him.
You bind me ever to my loyalty.
Then, that I may oblige you more to it.
I here declare you rightful successor,
And heir immediate to my Crown:
This, Gentlemen,——————
[to the Deputies.
I hope will still my subjects discontents,
When they behold succession firmly setled.
Heav'n preserve your Majesty.
As for my self I have resolv'd
Still to continue as I am, unmarried:
[Page 63] The cares, observances, and all the duties
Which I should pay an Husband, I will place
Upon my people; and our mutual love
Shall make a blessing more then Conjugal.
And this the States shall ratifie.
Heav'n bear me witness that I take no joy
In the succession of a Crown.
Which must descend to me so sad away.
Cousin, no more; my resolution's past,
Which fate shall never alter.
Then, I am once more happy:
For since none can possess her I am pleas'd
With my own choice, and will desire no more.
For multiplying wishes is a curse
That keep the mind still painfully awake:
You care and loyalty have this day oblig'd me;
But how to be acknowledging I know not,
Unless you give the means.

I was in hope your Majesty had forgot me; therefore if you please, Madam, I onely beg a pardon for having taken up armes once to day against you; for I have a foolish kind of Conscience, which I wish many of your Subjects had, that will not let me ask a recompence for my loyalty, when I know I have been a Rebel.

Your modesty shall not serve the turn; Ask something.

Then I beg, Madam, you will command Florimell never to be friends with me.


Ask again; I grant that without the Queen: But why are you affraid on't?

Because I am sure as soon as ever you are, you'l marry me.
Do you fear it?
No, 'twill come with a fear.
If you do, I will not stick with you for an Oath.

I require no Oath till we come to Church; and then after the Priest, I hope; for I find it will be my destiny to marry thee.


If ever I say word after the black Gentleman for thee Ce­ladon

Then I hope you'l give me leave to bestow a faithful heart elsewhere.


I but if you would have one you must be speak it, for I am sure you have none ready made.

What say you, shall I marry Flavia?
No, she'll be too cunning for you.
What say you to Olinda then? she's tall, and fair, and bonny.
And foolish, and apish, and fickle.

But Sabina, there's pretty, and young, and loving, and in­nocent.


And dwarfish, and childish, and fond, and flippant: if you marry her Sister you will get May-poles, and if you marry her you will get Fayries to dance about them.


Nay then the case is clear, Florimell; if you take 'em all from me, 'tis because you reserve me for your self.


But this Marriage is such a Bugbear to me; much might be if we could invent but any way to mak it easie.


Some foolish people have made it uneasie, by drawing the knot faster then they need; but we that are wiser will loosen it a little.


'Tis true indeed, there's some difference betwixt a Girdle and an Halter.


As for the first year according to the laudable custome of new married people, we shall follow one another up into Chambers, and down into Gardens, and think we shall never have enough of one a­nother.—So far 'tis pleasant enough I hope.


But after that, when we begin to live like Husband and Wife, and never come near one another—what then Sir?


Why then our onely happiness must be to have one mind, and one will, Florimell.


One mind if thou wilt, but prithee let us have two wills; for I find one will be little enough for me alone: But how if those wills should meet and clash, Celadon?


I warrant thee for that: Husbands and Wives keep their wills far enough asunder for ever meeting: one thing let us be sure to agree on, that is, never to be jealous.


No; but e'en love one another as long as we can; and confess the truth when we can love no longer.

When I have been at play, you shall never ask me what mo­ney I have lost.


When I have been abroad you shall never enquire who treated me.


Item, I will have the liberty to sleep all night, without your interrupting my repose for any evil design whatsoever.

Item, Then you shall bid me good night before you sleep.

Provided always, that whatever liberties we take with other people, we continue very honest to one another.

As far as will consist with a pleasant life.

Lastly, Whereas the names of Husband and Wife hold forth nothing, but clashing and cloying, and dulness and faintness in their signification; they shall be abolish'd for ever betwixt us.


And instead of those, we will be married by the more agree­able names of Mistress and Gallant.


None of my priviledges to be infring'd by thee Florimell, under the penalty of a month of Fasting-nights.


None of my priviledges to be infring'd by thee Celadon, under the penalty of Cuckoldom.


Well, if it be my fortune to be made a Cuckold, I had rather thou shouldst make me one then any one in Sicily: and for my comfort I shall have thee oftner then any of thy servants.


Laye now, is not such a marriage as good as wenching, Ce­ladon?

This is very good, but not so good, Florimell.
Now set me forward to th' Assembly.
You promise Cousin your consent?
But most unwillingly.
Philocles, I must beg your voice too.
Most joyfully I give it.
Madam, but one word more; since you are so resolv'd,
That you may see, bold as my passion was,
'Twas onely for your person, not your Crown;
I swear no second love
Shall violate the flame I had for you,
But in strict imitation of your Oath
I vow a single life.
[Page 66] Qu. to Asteria.]
Now, my Asteria, my joys are full;
The pow'rs above that see
The innocent love I bear to Philocles,
Have giv'n its due reward; for by this means
The right of Lysimantes will devolve
Upon Candiope; and I shall have
This great content, to think, when I am dead
My Crown may fall on Philocles his head.
Exeunt omnes.


OUr Poet something doubtful of his Fate
Made choice of me to be his Advocate,
Relying on my Knowledg in the Laws,
And I as boldly undertook the Cause.
I left my Client yonder in a rant
Against the envious, and the ignorant,
Who are, he sayes, his onely Enemies:
But he contemns their malice, and defies
The sharpest of his Censurers to say
Where there is one gross fault in all his Play.
The language is so fitted for each part,
The Plot according to the Rules of Art;
And twenty other things he bid me tell you,
But I cry'd, e'en go do't your self for Nelly.
Reason, with Judges, urg'd in the defence
Of those they would condemn, is insolence;
I therefore wave the merits of his Play,
And think it fit to plead this safer way.
If, when too many in the purchase share
Robbing's not worth the danger nor the care;
The men of business must, in Policy,
Cherish a little harmless Poetry;
All wit wou'd else grow up to Knavery.
Wit is a Bird of Musick, or of Prey.
Mounting she strikes at all things in her way;
[Page] But if this Birdlime once but touch her wings,
On the next bush she sits her down, and sings.
I have but one word more; tell me I pray
What you will get by damning of our Play?
A whipt Fanatick who does not recant
Is by his Brethren call'd a suffring Saint;
And by your hands shou'd this poor Poet die
Before he does renounce his Poetry,
His death must needs confirm the Party more
Then all his scribling life could do before.
Where so much zeal does in a Sect appear,
'Tis to no purpose, 'faith, to be severe.
But 'tother day I heard this rhyming Fop
Say Criticks were the Whips, and he the Top;
For, as a Top spins best the more you baste her,
So every lash you give, he writes the faster.

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