THE Injured Princess, OR THE Fatal UUager: As it was Acted at the Theater-Royal, By His Majesties Servants.
By Tho. Durfey, Gent.
LONDON: Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, near the Piazza. 1682.
THE PROLOGUE.
OLd Plays like Mistresses, long since enjoy'd,
Long after please, whom they before had cloy'd;
For Fancy chews the Cudd on past delight,
And cheats it self to a new Appetite.
But then this second Fit comes not so strong,
Like second Agues, neither fierce nor long:
What you have known before, grows sooner stale,
And less provokes you, than an untold Tale.
That but refreshes what before you knew,
But this discovers something that is new;
Hence 'tis, that at new Plays you come so soon,
Like Bride-grooms, hot to go to Bed ere noon!
Or, if you are detain'd some little space,
The stinking Footman's sent to keep your place.
But, when a Play's reviv'd, you stay and dine,
And drink till three, and then come dropping in;
As Husband after absence, wait all day,
And decently for Spouse, till Bed-time stay!
So, ere the Brethren's liberal Fit was spent,
The first wise Nonconformist, underwent
With ease, and batten'd in Imprisonment.
For greater gains, his zeal refus'd the less;
Each day to him was worth a Diocess.
But he who now, in hopes of equal gain,
Will needs be Pris'ner, tryes the Trick in vain;
He melts in durance half his Grease away,
To get, like us, poor twenty Pounds a day.
Drammatis.
SCENE. Luds-Town, alias London.
- Cymbeline, King of Britain.
- Ursaces, A noble Gentleman married to the Princess Eugenia.
- Pisanio, Confident and Friend to Ursaces.
- Cloten, A Fool, Son to the Queen by a former Husband.
- Iachimo, A roaring drunken Lord, his Companion.
- Silvio, Another Companion.
- Shattillion, An opinionated Frenchman.
- Beaupre, Don Michael, His Friends.
- Bellarius, An old Courtier banish'd by Cymbeline.
- Palladour, Arviragus, Two young Princes, Sons to Cymbeline, bred up by Bellarius in a Cave as his own.
- Lucius, General to Augustus Caesar.
Women.
- The Queen,
- Eugenia, The Princess.
- Clarina, Her Confident.
- Sophronia, Aurelia, Women, one to the Queen, the other to the Princess.
THE Unequal Match; OR THE Fatal Wager.
ACT I.
Enter Ursaces, Eugenia and Pisanio, Clar. Lelia.
Pisan.
HEll now has done its worst; the meagre Furies have open'd all their Viols of black Malice, and shed the utmost drop—Is't possible! What Commission from the King to seize and banish my dearest Friend! Who would be good or vertuous if this be the reward! Can it be true?—What banish'd!
Eugen.
Oh killing Sound! The greatest pang of death is easie to this Torment.
Ursa.
'Tis my Fortune.
But Oh ye immortal Powers! what is my sin,
To merit this thy worst of punishments?
Eugen.
If it be sin to love, we are past mercy,
For never hearts were swell'd with that true passion,
As was Ursaces and Eugenia's.
Pisan.
Hell swallow thee quick that causest this Separation:
Thou hast the old man's Curse; I hope 'twill speed thee:
To weep is but in vain.
Ursa.
My Queen, my Mistress,
Stop these warm bubling Springs that melt my heart;
Those Currents dearer than the Wealth of Ganges,
Now flowing down the Rosie Fields of Beauty;
[Page 2]And listen to my Vow: I will continue
The truest Husband that ere plighted faith:
My Residence in Galia at Beaupre's;
My Father's Friend: Thither write my Soul,
And I will feed upon each Character,
And wear the Paper out with eager Kisses.
Eugen.
So will I yours, with keeping in my bosom,
Here near my heart—O the sad thought of parting!
Ursa.
It must be so.
Eugen.
Nay stay a little longer:
Were you but riding out to take the Air,
Such parting were too slight—See here my Love,
This Diamond was my Mothers—wear it for me,
And keep it till you wooe another Wife,
When poor Eugenia's dead.
Ursa.
Another Wife!
Why my best Life; Oh why that cruel word!
Another Wife! No, you supream Directors
Give me my own; let me enjoy but this,
And freeze up my Embraces of a next
With Death's cold Icicle.
Remain thou here while Sence can keep it on;
And Sweetest Dearest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss, so in our Trifles
I still w [...] of you—for my sake wear this Bracelet:
It has a Charm 'gainst Levity and Jealousie;
'Twill keep me in your mind.
Eugen.
It shall grow to me, and from my Arm
Never shall be separated—Ha, my Father!
When my Ursaces shall we meet again?
Ursa.
When? Heaven can tell.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen and Train.
Cym.
Still dar'st thou with thy baseness wound my eyes:
Mechanick Wretch, lost both in birth and merit,
Can thy plum'd Insolence dare to soar so high,
As to contemn my Orders?
Ursa.
Royal Sir,
Grace but my Story with a minutes audience.
Cym.
Ha! Wouldst thou speak?
And shall I patient hear my own dishonour,
Having yet bleeding Wounds new prob'd—What listen
To my Daughters Infamy? and shall a Vassal,
The Creature of my Charity, insolently dare
To stamp his plebeian Image on my Coyn,
[Page 3]Yet live untortur'd?—Oh ye Powers have patience!
Queen.
Mercy, Sir, adds lustre to a Crown;
'Tis lost on stubborn minds.
Cym.
Hence from my sight:
If after the next dawn within my Kingdom,
Appears so vile a Creature as Ursaces,
That moment is thy last of Life—Away
Thou poyson to my Bloud.
Ursa.
Heaven keep your Majesty,
And may your years and joys numerous as sands,
Crowd happily upon you.
So poor Offenders trembling meet their doom,
Punish'd by death, yet fear a worse to come.
Exit.
Eugen.
So breaks the dear strings of the panting heart,
When the lov'd life flyes from it—Oh—
Clarin.
Was ever Scythian Cruelty like this,
Or long Divorce so bitter?
Cymb.
Was ever King so wretched in his Off-spring,
Or ever careful Father curs'd as I?
Queen.
Are you not mighty? Shall the lofty Oak
Stoop to the Shrub beneath it? No, rather root it up.
O that my Spirit lodg'd within your Bosom,
I would not counsel but command Obedience!
Eugen.
Madam, I must believe you are my Step-mother,
Better known to me by that title than your Love.
Cymb.
She is your Queen, whose Son you might have married,
Had wisdom guided thy unskilful youth:
Design'd to make thee happy.
Eugen.
Happy?
Queen.
Nay let her use her pleasure:
A Jewel of true worth, exceeding lustre,
Sure need not court the wearer; nor shall my Son
By humble flattery sooth her pride and vainness:
If as her Equal she think fit to treat him,
My voice is his—but I'le have no Submissions.
But I shall court occasion to consider
This sly contempt—You shall know who I am.
Eugen.
I do too well.
Cymb.
Thou too well know'st thy shame, but from this moment
I charge thee on thy life not shed a Tear,
Nor breath a Sigh—But entertain the Prince
As he deserves, with the best face of Smiles:
Bury in black oblivion that low Fellow,
That exil'd Wretch Ursaces, forget for ever,
Or by the Gods of Britain, by my Crown,
And my Queens Love,
I'le cast thee out a stranger to my Bloud,
[Page 4]And ne're remember that thou wert my Daughter.
Exeunt K. Q. G.
Clarin.
There yet is comfort, could you calm this Passion:
Your Father may relent, your Lord return,
And you again be blest, a happy Princess.
Eugen.
A Princess? O vain Title, and thou ingrate
To mock my bitter Woes with Quality,
The curs'd cause of my Grief—Ah wou'd I were
Some Shepherd's Daughter, and my dear Ursaces
The Darling of some neighb'ring Villager!
That through the flowery Meadows sent him daily,
His Scrip well fill'd with store of Rustick Viands,
To treat me under some old shady Oak,
The Monarch of the Grove: Then then should I be happy;
There wou'd we look and smile, and talk and sing,
And tell a hundred, hundred pretty Tales,
Vow lasting passions all the live-long day,
And sigh, and kiss the happy hours away.
Enter Pisanio.
Clarin.
Here comes my Father.
Eugen.
May all thy years, thou Parent of my Life,
Be long and happy, as thou bring'st me comfort.
How did my Lord support this Separation?
Pisan.
Like your Lord,
I kiss'd his hand aboard, saw the hois'd Sails,
Stood on the shore, and view'd the rowling waves,
Then smooth as Youth, and mild as modest Vertue,
Courting his presence—all the gentle winds
Were lodg'd in remote corners, softly breezing,
To wast that Treasure safely to the Port,
On which your Life depends.
Eugen.
My Life indeed—But good old Sir,
Tell me (for there's a Theam of Truth lodg'd in that Face)
What was the last kind word he spoke of me?
Pisan.
His Queen, his Wife, and then remov'd from shore,
Just as I left him,
I saw him clasp his hands, and kiss your Ring.
Eugen.
Sensless Jewel, happier far than I!
But could'st thou leave him so?—had I been there,
I would ha' broke my Eye-strings, crack'd 'um,
And look'd after him till the diminution of space
Had pointed him, sharp as my Needle,
And when the envious distance barr'd my sight
Of that bless'd Object, turn'd my eyes and wept.
Pisan.
I could not stop that Tribute more than you,
What War could never force, mild Pity drew.
Eugen.
[Page 5]I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say, ere I cou'd tell him
How I would think of him at certain hours
Such thoughts, and such—ere I could make him swear,
The Gallian Beauties never should betray
My Interest, or his Honour, or have charg'd him
At the sixth hour of Morn, or Noon, or Midnight,
To bless me with his Greeting: Or ere I could
Give him a parting Kiss, which I had set
Between two charming words, comes in my Father,
And like the stubborn blast o'th' stormy North,
Nipp'd all my Buds from blowing.
Enter Lelia.
Lelia.
Madam, Prince Cloten's coming.
Eugen.
I'le fly him as the Plague: My Lord, your Servant;
Alas, how poor a thing's a Fool of Quality!
Exit.
Pisan.
Had Nature stamp'd all Women in this mould,
Our Sex had all been damn'd, attractive Love and Beauty
Had lull'd us to the Devil; we shou'd have doted so,
Self-murder must have followed,
And shown th' effect of too much Love and Jealousie.
But they are not all like this—This is a Creature
So good, I almost wonder that she lives:
Her Lord's a brave young man too, and when I prove
False to his merit, may I then be wretched.
Enter Cloten, Jachimo, Attendants.
Cloten.
But to have six to four for 200 Guinies,
And lose, is damn'd luck, tho' by your favour, for a man
Of my quality, ha Iachimo! honest drunken Lord, is't not?
Iach.
'Twas indifferently hellish—the Devil had a paw in't,
That's certain.
But stay, how now, who's that?
Cloten.
'Ud so, 'tis my Lord Pisanio, and I'le lay a Wager sent Messenger to me from the Princess Eugenia.
Well, my Mother's a plaguy cunning Woman:
I, see she will make her marry me in spite of her. How now my Lord Pisanio, what News with you, umph?
My Lord Iachimo, prithee be wise now, and look soberly a little.
Iach.
Never fear me man, I am sober as a Judge.
Cloten.
And how does the Princess old Lord—ha—does she come about, does she relent, does she yet know the difference between Lord Cloten, and that mechanick banish'd Worm Ursaces?
Pisan.
A Worm, my Lord?
Cloten.
[Page 6]A Worm, my Lord, ay a Maggot, if compar'd to me; hang him, indigent Rascal, were there no other Reason, I hate him for his Poverty, for he's not worth a Groat, as poor as Iehu.
Iach.
Iehu? Iob, Iob, my Lord, 'twas Iob was the poor Rat.
Cloten.
I say 'twas Iehu: Prithee Iachimo be silent, a Pox I wonder you will pretend to talk when you see you are drunk.
Iach.
Mum, mum—I've done: But, my Lord, prithee ask him if he knows where we may find a sound Wench; he's a slauging old Whipster, I warrant him.
Pisan.
The disease of Folly may be infectious, I'le be gone.
Cloten.
Hark you my Lord, why in such hast—have you no message from the Princess?—umph—
Pisan.
The Princess? Not I, my Lord.
Cloten.
Not you, my Lord? and why so—my never look sow'r for the matter, Gad if you do, I'le be reveng'd, I'le tell you that the Queen shall know it; I'le not be affronted, not I, by ne're a State-Caterpillar in Britain; Gad any one that frowns at me is the Son of a Whore, and my Mother shall get him poyson'd.
Pisan.
My Lord, I know nothing of your Affair; I beseech you make not my Age the Subject of your Anger; I am not fit to be privy in Love-matters; the Princess may be fond, dote, languish, nay die for you, but for my part I am ignorant.
Cloten.
O may she so, Sir—dost hear that, Iachimo?
Iach.
Oons, Pull off his Beard, confound his Whiskers; what does he prate?
Cloten.
I thought she could not hold out long: Come Iachimo, thou and I will go and prepare a Serenade for her.
Iach.
Let's put old Drybones there upon a wooden Dromedary,
Carry him before her Window, and make him sing her a Song.
Cloten.
Ha, ha, he! 'twould be rare sport faith; but hang him, we won't do him that honour: Come, come away.
Exeunt singing.
Pisan.
That such a subtle Devil as his Mother
Should bring the World this Ass—this Ape of Mankind;
A Woman too that puts down all with Brain,
And over-reaching Plots, yet this great Fool her Son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen—Alas poor Eugenia, how I pity thee!
Now I'le to the King;
If I can, I'le serve thee; if not, wish thee well.
Exit.
Enter Queen Aurelia, and Ladies.
Queen.
There goes Ursaces Parasite; that old Fellow
Does me, my Son, and great Design, more mischief,
Than any now at Court. Well, what's to be done then?
When a Tree stands to hinder a good Prospect,
The only way's to fell it—he shall down,
His Fate is cast—Aurelia.
Aurel.
[Page 7]Your Majesty.
Queen.
Is the Doctor come yet?
Aurel.
Not yet Madam, but expected every moment.
Queen.
That Instrument of Fate I've brib'd to serve me;
He has strange poys'nous Drugs, whose mortal Quality
Hold deadly enmity with humane Life.
This being mine, I'le try the first effects
Upon this Lord, this Bar of my Ambition,
This foe to my Son's Greatness—where's Eugenia?
Aurel.
The Princess, Madam?
Queen.
Could you not answer me without that Title?
The Princess? you'l call her Queen ere long.
Aurel.
Your Majesties Pardon; I know more of duty.
Queen.
Has she been seen to day?
Aurel.
Nor yesterday, Madam.
The twilight Bat that hates the meridian Sun,
Keeps not so close, her Window's are dam'd up,
And not a Creature suffer'd to come near her,
But her new Favourite Clarinna.
Queen.
Pisanio's Daughter?
Aurel.
Yes, Madam.
Queen.
Send one to tell him I wou'd speak with him.
Exit Aur.
They're plotting hourly, therefore 'tis fit Vengeance
Should be swift; for by Pisanio's death,
My Son mounts one step higher towards the Throne.
The King is old, too old to share my heart,
And if he dies, Eugenia then is Queen:
But Queen of Shades she shall be ere that happen,
If she refuse the Marriage with my Son—
Vertue avant, thou Dream, thou airy Phantasm;
Had I been lowly born, I might have been
Thy Votary—but 'tis below a Queen.
Ambition's Vertue now, therefore be gone:
Cloten, For thee I'le cut through all Opposers,
King, Husband, Daughter, Friend, I'le stop at none,
But on their bloudy Ruines build thy Throne.—
Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Beaupre, Shattillion, and Don Michael.
Shatt.
UPon my Honour, Sir, I have observ'd him in Britain; he was then of a declining fame, and not expected to reap the additional Honour Fortune has since bless'd him with: I could have look'd on him then, without the help of admiration, tho' the Catalogue of his Endowments had been tabl'd by his side, and I to peruse him by Items.
Beaup.
You speak of him when he was much less accomplish'd than now he is. Consider, Sir, he was young, he was young.
D. Mich.
I have seen him at Madrid, and am of opinion, we had many there that could behold the Sun with as firm eyes as he.
Shatt.
This business of marrying his King's Daughter, wherein he must be weigh'd by her youth and weakness, rather than his own value, ecchoes him, I doubt not, a great deal above his true worth.
D. Mich.
And then his Banishment.
Shatt.
I, and the approbation of those that weep. This lamentable Divorce to comply with her, seem wonderfully to extend him: But I shall shortly be better inform'd; for I design a speedy Journey to Britain, where perhaps I may spend the best part of this Summer.
D. Mich.
If the Ladies there are to be won at this easie rate, your time, Sir, may not be altogether lost.
Shatt.
Why faith 'tis to be hop'd so; and for my encouragement, the Gentleman has giv'n us a good hint of the free Constitution of his Countrey. But how comes it, Sir, he is to sojourn with you? Pray how creeps Acquaintance.
Beaup.
His Father and I have commanded together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my Life: Here he comes; and pray let him be so esteem'd among you, as suits with Gentlemen of your knowledge to a Stranger of his Quality—I beseech you.
Enter Ursaces.
Be better known to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble Friend of mine; how worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.
D. Mich.
Sir, If my memory play not the Traitor with me, I think I had the honour of your Company once in Spain.
Ursa.
Since when, Sir, I have been debtor to you for Courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay ever.
D. Mich.
Sir, You o're-rate my poor kindness; I was glad I did attone my Countreyman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together, [Page 9] with so mortal a purpose as then each other bore, about a business of so slight and trivial a nature.
Ursa.
Sir, I was then but a young Traveller, and rather desir'd to be silent in what I heard, than to be guided by others Experiences; but upon my riper judgement, (if I offend not to say it is riper) my Quarrel was not altogether slight.
D. Mich.
Faith, yes to be put to the Arbitrement of Swords, and by two such that would by all likelihood have disabl'd one the other, or have fall'n both.
Shatt.
Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
D. Mich.
Safely I think: 'Twas a Contention in publick about the praise of our Countrey-Mistresses; this Gentleman at that time vouching, and upon warrant of bloud affirmation, his to be more fair, vertuous, wise, chast, constant, qualifi'd, and less contemptible, than any the rarest of our Spanish Ladies.
Shatt.
That Lady is not living now sure, or this Gentleman's Opinion by this worn out.
Ursa.
Sir, She holds her Vertue still, as I my Mind.
Shatt.
You must not so far prefer her before ours of Gallia.
Ursa.
Being so far provok'd as I was at Madrid, I wou'd diminish nothing, tho' I profess my self her Adorer, not her Friend.
Shatt.
Methinks as fair, and as good, a kind of hand in hand Comparison were somewhat too good for any Lady in Britany; for as that Diamond of yours there outshines some I have seen, so perhaps may she; but I have not seen the most precious Diamond that is, nor you the Lady Sir.
Ursa.
I prais'd her as I rated her, so do I my Jewel.
Shatt.
What do you esteem it at?
Ursa.
More than the World enjoys.
Shatt.
Then it must of necessity follow, that your unparalell'd Mistress is outpriz'd by a Trifle.
Ursa.
You are mistaken: 'Tis possible one may be sold or giv'n, if there were Wealth enough for the Purchase, or Merit for the Gift; the other is not a thing for Sale, and only the Gift of Heaven.
Shatt.
Which Heav'n has given you.
Ursa.
Yes, and which with its leave I will keep.
Shatt.
In secure Opinion, the contented blessing of the Wise. 'Tis true, you may; but you know, Sir, Strange Fowl light upon neighb'ring Ponds; your Ring may be stoll'n too, and so your brace of unprizable Estimations be lost; the one being frail, and the other casual, a cunning Thief, or a (that way) accomplish'd Courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.
Ursa.
Your Gallia contains none so accomplish'd a Courtier, to my knowledge: If in point of Constancy you term my Mistress frail; I doubt not but you may have store of Thieves, but yet I fear not my Ring.
Shatt.
Thieves in Love, Sir; we are for the pleasant way of Larceny.
Ursa.
Ay 'tis well you steal Love, your Rhetorick else would hardly promote you higher than the Intrigue of a Shepherd's Daughter.
Beaup.
[Page 10]Come enough of this Gentlemen; pray let's leave here.
Ursa.
Sir, With all my heart: This worthy Monsieur, I thank him, makes no Stranger of me▪ we are familiar at first sight.
Shatt.
With five times so much Rhetorick I should get ground of your fair Mistress, nay perhaps make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to befriend me.
Ursa.
No, no.
Shatt.
Come, I'le make a bold Proposition: I will lay the Moiety of my Estate to your Ring, which in my opinion overvalues it something—that I can win your Lady: I make this Wager now rather against your Confidence, than her Reputation; and to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any Lady in the World.
Ursa.
Come Sir, you abuse your self, and wou'd, I doubt not, sustain what you deserve by such an Attempt.
Shatt.
What's that?
Ursa.
Why a shameful repulse, tho' your attempt deserves more a punishment too.
Shatt.
As how Sir?
Ursa.
To have your Nose slit cross, your sland'rous Tongue pull'd out by the roots, torn, mangl'd, cut to atomes, and blown like common filth into the Air.
Shatt.
And who should do this?
Ursa.
I, were I concern'd: Come, Sir, hold your Tongue, or by Heaven I shall—
Both offer to draw.
Shatt.
What a sleepy Britain?—I'le try that.
Beaup.
Hold Gentlemen, and as you are my Friends forbear; there has been too much said—it came in suddenly, let it die as it was born, I beseech you be reconcil'd.
D. Mich.
The Gentleman was a little too free in language.
Shatt.
Mor dieu, Would I had my Estate and my Friend's, on confirmation of what I speak.
Ursa.
That you would win my Lady?
Shatt.
Yours to choose, who in Constancy, you think, stands so fair—Come Sir, let us lay by this petty Brawl; I will lay you 10000 Duckats to your Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady is, and with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second Conference, I will bring from thence that Honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd.
Ursa.
I will wage Gold against your Gold; my Ring I hold as dear as my Finger, 'tis part of it.
Shatt.
Oh you are a great Courtier Sir, and know that to buy Ladies Flesh at millions a dram is cheap, tho' you cannot keep it from tainting; but I see you have some Religion in you that you fear.
Ursa.
Faith, I fear Religion much more than your Prowess: And now to reclaim your vanity, let there be Covenants drawn between us, and I will accept your Wager. Come now, I dare you to't; there's my Ring.
Gives it Beaupre.
Shatt.
'Tis done.
Beaup.
I will have it no Lay.
Shatt.
[Page 11]By the Gods 'tis one. If I bring you not sufficient testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your Mistress, my 10000 Duckats are yours, so is your Diamond too; but if I thrive in my Enterprize, this your Jewel is mine, provided I have a Letter of Recommendation for my better Entertainment.
Ursa.
I embrace the Conditions; only thus far you shall answer: If you attempt her, and give direct proof you have prevail'd, I am no further your Enemy, she is not worth a Quarrel; but if she remain chast, you not making it appear otherwise; then for the ill Opinion, and the Assault you have made to her Chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword.
Shatt.
Your Hand—my Honour on't—I'le fetch my Gold, have our two
Wagers recorded, and then away for Britain.
And if I lose, I must prove dumb or blind;
Ursa.
If win, there is no Hell like Womankind.
Exeunt.
The End of the First Act.
ACT II.
Enter behind Cymbeline, Queen, a Purse, Pisanio, Doctor and Guards, a Viol, Mrs. Holten, Sue.
Cym.
NOt seen, nor to be spoke with?
Queen.
She's too haughty,
And since the exile of her abject Minion,
Proves a stranger both to Manners and Obedience.
Cym.
She shall be forc'd to Duty.
What disobey her Father, slight her Queen?
Now by the awful Powers that sway the Heavens,
Paternal Love and Mildness I disclaim,
And as a Corrasive to my sick heart,
Hold her for ever.
Pisan.
Please your Majesty.
Cym.
Pisanio, do not speak.
I have with watchful eye observ'd thy actions,
Oft prob'd thy heart, and found it still corrupted,
Still link'd and fetter'd to that banish'd Fellow,
Maugre our strict Commands, and deep Resentments.
Why dost thou shame thy Age, and smile upon us?
Bend low thy knees as loyal, that art known
A Rebel to our Peace—Come, this is not well.
Pisan.
Royal Sir, and my most honour'd Master,
In whose bless'd favour I was ever happy,
[Page 12]Whom I have lov'd from my hearts core, obey'd with joy,
As King, and Genius of the War, followed through death,
And as a God ador'd for Clemency.
Queen.
O smooth-tongu'd Vice, O Flatterer!
Aside to the King.
Pisan.
Brand not your poor old Souldier, I beseech you,
With breach of Loyalty. I rebel to your Peace?
These Cheeks that have been furrow'd in your Service;
This Body scarr'd with wounds; these low sunk Tapers
Now dully shining in their wither'd Sockets,
And spent with watching in cold Winter Camps,
Have still been careful to preserve your Peace,
Not to disturb it. How then am I a Rebel?
Plebeian Sound it freezes all my bloud,
And adds a sharper Winter to my Age.
Queen.
The silver Hairs that grace thy Reverend Head,
Should grow in Wisdoms Soyl, thou shouldst be
Loyal: But who can tell a Murderer by his Face,
Or know when Treason's candi'd o're with Vertue?
'Tis said you love Ursaces, wish him King,
In hopes to make your self and Daughter mighty:
But these are but Reports, and claim small credit.
Pisan.
Slanders, hellish Slanders.
The poys'nous Bite of some detracting Villain,
That thinks my glass of Life has run too long:
So may my better part, my immortal Soul,
That guides the Orders of this aged Body,
And dignifies it from the sordid Bruit,
Return to its first Seat, its primitive Glory,
As I have always wish'd my Soveraign's Life,
And oft with hazard of my own defended it.
'Tis true I love Ursaces.
Queen.
Ha, mind that Sir!
Cymb.
You love him then, and tho' your enervate power
Dare not oppose our rage, you wish him well.
Pisan.
As he deserves Sir, modestly I think.
His Vertues merit some small approbation;
He's honest, valiant, and what's more, judicious;
Wife to his Youth, and temperate to his Judgement.
I once remember Sir, when the great Cassibelan
Sent me against the stubborn Cambria Rebels,
Then up in Arms, headed by old Bellarius,
At Milford-haven, I took Ursaces with me,
Who tho' a beardless Boy of 16 years,
Show'd many signal proofs of manly Valour,
Flesh'd his young Arm, and dy'd his virgin Sword,
In the best bloud of your proud Enemies.
This was some proof of Vertue, and deserves
Sure some applause.
Queen.
[Page 13]He was rewarded for it.
His Majesty heap'd daily favours on him,
Bless'd him with smiles, and gave him the permission
Like a young Bird to wanton in his shine,
And grow even till he grew insolent,
And like a Bruit,
Sullied the Royal Spring that quench'd his thirst.
Pisan.
The Bonds of Love and Nature.
Cym.
Speak no more.
Upon thy Life no more in his defence.
Rash headlong Fool—how dar'st thou shock my will,
Or stand betwixt his sentence and my power?
Your service past pleads for you; but a second Crime
Of this curs'd nature rends thee from my Clemency.
Exit.
Queen.
My Lord, You were to blame t'enrage the King,
With lavish praise of that desertless Exile:
But be not troubled, I will appear your Friend,
And stand between his anger and your fault.
Doctor, a word; my Lord, for a time leave us.
Pisan.
Thank your Majesty.
She's kind o'th' sudden, pray Heaven it portend good:
Such Flashes from her, like Etherial fire,
Are followed with a Thunder-bolt; I must be watchful.
Exit.
Queen.
Yes, I will stand thy Friend, and such a one,
As fire to Cities, kindl'd by some Traitors;
Or the long-wing'd Hawk, to the weak prey she trusses.
Now, Doctor, have you brought the Drugs?
Doctor.
They are here, Madam.
Queen.
Well, there's your reward: Lock up your lips with the Key of
Secrefie; whatever thou know'st, say nothing;
Do this; I'le load thy merit richly, move the King
To any shape for thy preferment: fare thee well;
Be faithful, then be great, thou hast my power.
Exeunt.
Doctor.
That is, be a Rogue, and thrive; no Idol Greatness,
Thou guilded Pill, swallow'd by many thousands,
Ne're shalt thou infect my honesty.—She thinks she has
Strange lingring poyson; but I well knew her spirit,
And wou'd not trust one of her malice with a Drug
Of that damn'd nature: Those she has
Will stupifie and dull the sence a while,
And seemingly destroy; but there is
No danger in what show of death it makes,
More than the locking up the spirits a while,
To be more fresh reviving.—She is gull'd
With a most false Effect, and I the truer,
Hindring her black design with honesty.
Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Eugenia and Clarinna.
Eugen.
AH cruel Father, and a bloudy Queen!
Step-mother to my hopes as well as person,
A dull Fop Suitor to a wedded Lady,
That has her Husband banish'd. Can there be
A tide of woe like this—yet life to bear it?
Enter Lelia.
Lelia.
Madam, A Gentleman new arriv'd from Gallia,
Comes from my Lord with Letters.
Eugen.
What dost thou say, thy Lord? speak, speak again:
Oh thou art tedious! Said'st thou, from thy Lord?
Lelia.
Yes, Madam, and with Letters.
Eugen.
Fly to conduct him; be thy nimble speed
Swifter than Winds, or the Suns race—away.
Exit Lelia.
Now my Clarinna, now my dearest Lord,
Remembers his poor Wife: Oh my full heart!
Enter Lelia with Shattillion, a Letter.
Shatt.
Madam, The brave Ursaces is in safety,
And thus salutes your Highness.
Kisses her hand.
Eugen.
Most worthy Sir, You are the happiest Messenger
That ever Lady wish'd for—my dear Clarinna:
See all the doors be lock'd, lest the Queen
Come and disturb us.
Exit Clar.
Shatt.
I am proud to do you service; here are Letters.
Eugen.
The Index of my joy—I know the Hand:
For learn'd indeed were that Astronomer
That knew the Stars, as I his Character.
Wax, by your leave, (Oh be you ever bless'd!)
You pretty Bees, that make these locks of Counsel;
Bankrupts and Lovers have not equal prayers.
Reads.
Shatt.
All outwardly seems most Angelical:
If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare,
She is alone the Phenix of the World,
And I have lost my Wager.—Boldness befriend me;
Arm me Audacity from head to foot,
Or like the Parthians I shall flying fight,
And never keep my ground.
Eug.
[Page 15](Reads aloud.)
He is one of the noblest Note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely bound;
Reflect upon him accordingly as you value your Ursaces.
So far I read aloud; but even the life-bloud
Of my heart is warm'd by the rest—Noble Sir,
The worth my Lord writes of you, shows your value.
Pray command here; you're welcome, Sir, to Britain.
Shatt.
Your Highness too much honours me:
Now to begin the Game, assist me Cunning.
Aside,
Has Nature giv'n 'em eyes,
To see you spangl'd Sky, and the rich crop
Of Sea and Land? Can they distinguish 'twixt
The Planetary Orbs, and th' numerous Pebbles
Upon the hungry Beach? and can they not,
Guided by humane Reason, make distinction
'Twixt fair and foul?
Eugen.
What makes your admiration?
Shatt.
Oh cursed lust!
Thou horrid, old, blind Devil of the flesh,
Why do men suffer thee to dam their Reason?
Eugen.
This is strange.—What's the matter, Sir? Continues
My Lord in health? Indeed you make me fear.
Shatt.
He's well, Madam.
Eugen.
Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is.
Shatt.
Exceeding pleasant, not a Stranger there:
So gay and frollicksom.—He is nick-nam'd,
The Britain Reveller.
Eugen.
When he was here, he did incline to sadness,
And oftentimes not knowing why.
Shatt.
It seems then our sharp Air has cur'd him.
For my part I never saw him sad:
There's an Italian, his associate one,
An eminent Signieur, that has lately wedded
A plump young Bona Roba, and when he speaks
Of Constancy in Love, the roving Britain,
(Your Lord I mean) laughs from free Lungs, cryes, Oh
Can my Sides hold, to think that man, who knows
What Woman is, how loose and how imperfect,
Shou'd throw away a thought on such a trifle!
Eug.
Will my Lord say so? Pray speak.
Shatt.
Oh often, Madam!
And with his eyes flowing in tears of laughter.
It is a kind of sport, faith, to be by,
And hear him mock the Italian.
But Heaven knows, some men are much to blame.
Eug.
Not he, I hope.
Shatt.
Not he?
Eug.
[Page 16]Nay, there is more in this, that cold Assertion,
Attended with a careless carriage, shows
You speak not what you think; my Lord, I fear,
Bless'd with the Gallian Beauties, forgets Britain.
Shatt.
Oh gracious Heaven! why dost thou show'r down blessings
Upon unthankful man, that hourly slights 'em,
And like the lavish hand of hood-wink'd chance,
Throw all to th' fool, and let the learn'd, wise and vertuous,
Pine out a miserable life in poverty?
Eug.
This still is from the matter; I beseech you, Sir,
What is't creates your wonder?
Shatt.
Something that moves my pity too.
Eug.
Who do you pity, Sir?
Shatt.
Two Creatures heartily.
Eug.
Pray Heaven it reach not hither: Am I one, Sir?
Shatt.
The more my Plague to know it you are one.
Eug.
How can I merit pity, my Lord being well,
As by this Letter I have proof he is?
The meaning of all this.
Shatt.
The meaning's fatal: Gods, Had I this Cheek
To bathe my Lips upon; this Hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch wou'd force the feeler's Soul
To th' Oath of Constancy; this Object, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of the Eye,
Fixing it only here: Shou'd I, damn'd then,
Oh double damn'd, if ever so Apostate
Mingle with Lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the Capital.
Eug.
Hah!
Shatt.
Clasp Bodies plagued with all the pains
That Infamy can lend Nature: Swear, an Eye
Base, dead and glimmering as the smoaky Taper,
More bright than yours that lights that World of Beauty.
Shou'd I swear this, 'twere fit all Plagues of Hell
Shou'd bribe my Perjury.
Eug.
Why has my Lord, has my Ursaces sworn this?
Shatt.
I wou'd he had not.
Had I not heard it, he has so fair an outside,
Belief cou'd not have enter'd me.
Eug.
Oh misery!
Shatt.
Unhappy I that tell you this sad Story:
But Heaven knows my just and good design;
I cou'd not, see you wrong'd, and keep you ignorant.
Eug.
Then is there nothing in Mankind but Vice?
No Faith, no Honour. Ye swift-footed hour,
Ye silent Witnesses of my true passion,
Call back his Oaths: How often has he sworn
To be for ever constant?
Shatt.
[Page 17]Oh he will swear extreamly!
He takes a kind of pleasure to be perjur'd.
Eug.
And will he kiss those Creatures?
Shatt.
Kiss 'um, Madam?
Alas, wou'd that were all! there's no great fault in kissing.
Eug.
Let me hear no more; be dumb to th' rest for ever.
Shatt.
I know he hates ye; he has almost own'd as much:
When fir'd with Wine and Lust, he told your fondness
In sport to his new Mistress.
Eug.
Oh hellish Act! Oh curs'd Ingratitude!
Shatt.
I swear, your sad Misfortunes strike a heart
That here vows to your service: Be reveng'd, Madam,
The way is easie.
Eug.
Reveng'd? Alas how shou'd I▪
Unless upon my self, by sighs and weepings,
For loving that false man.
Shatt.
Another way
Courts your acceptance.
Eug.
How Sir?
Shatt.
'Tis the secret'st and the sweetest way:
I dedicate my self thus to your pleasure;
Thus pay my adoration to your Beauty:
I am a man born nobler than Ursaces,
As young, as vigorous, and far more constant,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close and sure.
Eug.
Oh Heaven! Is't possible? And will you love me too?
Shatt.
Love thee?—I, better than my Soul:
Were I assur'd of celestial Joys,
Long as its Immortality love thee.
The tender Mother loves not her first-born,
The Poet Fame, or the sick Youth his health,
With half that zeal.—Kind Fate, she comes, she yields:
Oh glorious Conquest!—Let me seal my Passion
Upon thy snowy hands transported, then rove higher,
And ransack this white Magazine of Beauty.
Here I shall find.
Eug.
That which thou meritest, Death.
Offers a Dagger at him.
Detested Wretch, practis'd in Villany,
How I condemn my credulous Ears that have
So long been Traitors? Wert thou honourable,
Thou wou'dst have told me this for Vertues sake,
And not for such base Ends.
Who's there, Clarina?
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of this presumption, and by punishment,
Equal to the Crime, reward thy brutal folly.
Shatt.
[Page 18]'D's heart, this won't do, I must shift quickly, or I'me ruin'd.
Give me your gracious pardon:
What I have spoke was by your Lord's Command,
To try your Constancy, and find if distance
Cou'd play the Traitor with your faith and memory,
Which now I know unshook'd, and shall acquaint him.
Eug.
Can this be true? Cou'd my Lord doubt me then?
Shatt.
Alas you know, Madam, fierce Loves have still some jealousie
He is a man of that clear equal temper,
That he inchants Societies unto him;
He sits amongst 'um like a descended God;
He has a kind of Grandeur sets him off,
More than a Mortal seeming. Be not angry then,
Oh chastest of thy kind! that I have adventur'd▪
To try your Vertue by a false Report,
Being oblig'd by Oath, and my design so honest.
Eug.
I'me satisfied; you appear clear again:
Pray use my Power i'th' Court.
Shatt.
My humble thanks; I had almost forgot
To entreat your Highness in a small Request,
And yet of moment too; for it concerns
Your Lord, my self, and other noble Friends,
That share in the design.
Eug.
Pray what is't?
Shatt.
A dozen of us Gentlemen, and your Lord,
The best feather of our Wing, have mingled Sums,
To buy a Present for the Roman Emperor,
Which I, the Factor for the rest, have done in Britain here:
'Tis Plate of rare device, and Jewels
Of rich and exquisite form; their value's great,
And I am something curious, being a Stranger,
To have them in safe custody: May it please ye
To take 'um in protection?
Eug.
Willingly.
Since 'tis my Lord's Concern, I'le have 'um kept
Here in my Apartment.
Shatt.
They are in a Chest,
Attended by my Men; I will presume
To send them to ye, only for this night,
I must aboard to morrow.
Eug.
So soon?
Shatt.
Indeed I must.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your Lord by writing, do it to night▪
For I've outstay'd the time that is material
To th' tender of our Present.
Eug.
I'le instantly about it.
[Page 19]Send your Chest to me, I'le take care of it,
And see it safe return'd.
Shatt.
Your Highness faithful Servant.
Exeunt.
Enter Queen, Pisanio, and Attendants. A Viol.
Queen.
'Twas but a gust of Passion in the King,
That like a ruffling Storm shakes the tall Grove,
Yet in a moment's gone, and all is calm.
Pisan.
I am much a debtor to your Majesty.
Queen.
Besides you shou'd consider he is old,
Peevish with sickness, scarce had liv'd till now,
But for these Helps of Nature, this rich Cordial,
Which I have made through providence to help him:
This Glass is worth a Kingdom to the Sick;
I give it thee Pisanio, I give it as an Earnest
Of future favour; when thou art ill, drink this,
'Twill conquer the Disease, nay tho' given o're
By all Physicians, 'twill renew thy health.
Pisan.
Your Majesty's too gracious; but like the Sun,
Display your beams, and shed your kindly blessings
Upon a wither'd stump that cannot grow,
Tho' you can influence; this rich Cordial,
Tho' of this heavenly nature, can but add
A minute more to th' snuff of my life's Taper,
That yet must out at last.
Queen.
We all must die, my Lord:
But 'tis no harm sure to prolong a life,
When living we do well; therefore preserve it,
'Tis worth your care.—The King's in bed; good night,
My Lord.
Pisan.
Blessings still crown your Majesty.
Queen.
On him or Eugenia; if it work, I'me happy.
Exit.
Pisan.
There is a mystery in her tide of Favours,
Heaven will not let me know: She always hated me,
'Cause I mislik'd her Son, yet now show'rs down
All Kindnesses, commends me to the King, takes care
Of my health, and gives me here a Cordial to preserve it.
But why may not all this be as a hook and bait,
To get me from my Element of Honesty?
Hah, it is, it must, I have it! Hah! beware then,
And tho' in Exile, show thou lov'st Ursaces,
That good, that brave young man; I wish Eugenia
Deserve him; I have some fears I saw a Stranger,
A tall, hot-blouded, fluttering Fellow,
An hour ago, strutting from her Apartment,
And as he went, the perfum'd Pulvillio left a scent behind him,
[Page 20]Enough to choak a Civet-Cat: I always thought her innocent,
Pray Heaven she prove so; for if the Woman's
Fickle Devil once seize her,
Like a huge Stone she rowls the steepy Hill,
Not to be stopp'd by Conscience, Force, or Skill.
Exit.
SCENE IV.
Discovers Eugenia in Bed; a Lady waiting; a Chest standing by.
Eugen.
WHo's there—Clarina?
Clarin.
Yes, Madam.
Eugen.
What hour is't my Dear?
Clarin.
Past Twelve above a quarter.
Eugen.
I have read three hours then.
My Eyes are weak;
Pray then go to Bed:
Indeed I trouble you; but leave the Candle burning,
And if thou think'st on't, bid my Woman call me
At five a Clock: Good night, Sleep seizes me;
Sleeps.
To thy protection I commend me Heaven.
Exit Clar.
Enter Shattillion from the Chest; a Table-book.
Shatt.
All's still as Death, and hush'd as Midnight silence:
Now the Crickets sing, and mortal wearied Sense
Repairs it self by rest. Lewd Tarquin thus
Did softly tread and tremble, ere he wak'ned
The Chastity he wounded. Oh Soul of Beauty!
Sure none but I cou'd see thee thus, and leave thee
Thus in this lovely posture. But no more;
I've other business. Chill all my Bloud,
Ye Powers, and make me cold to her Allurements:
This is no loving minute; Come, to my design:
To note the Chamber: Here I'le write all down;
Such and such Pictures; there the Window; such
The adornment of her Bed; the Arras Figures:
Why such, and such, and the Contents o'th' Story.
Ay but some natural Notes about her Body,
Above ten thousand meaner Witnesses,
She stirs, and he starts back.
Wou'd testifie to enrich my Inventory.
What's there, a Bracelet on her Arm? 'Tis so.
Now sleep thou Ape of Death, lye dull upon her;
[Page 21]And be her Sense but as a Monument,
Thus in a Chappel lying. Fortune befriend me;
'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,
As strongly as the Conscience does within,
To th' torture of her Lord: On her left Breast,
A Mole Cinque, spotted like the Crimson drops
In the bottom of a Cowslip: Here's a Voucher
Stronger than ever Law cou'd make; this Secret
Will force him think I've pick'd the Lock, and stoll'n
The Treasure of her Honour. No, now I have enough:
To th' Chest agen.
Swift, swift ye Dragons of the Night; lov'd Phospher,
Return the welcome day, I lodge in fear,
Tho' there's a heavenly Angel, Hell is here.
Gets into the Chest.
Enter Cloten, Gentlemen, Silvio, Musicians and Dancers.
Clot.
I Gad this damn'd Armour is plaguy troublesom:
Does it become Florio? Hah! Do I look like one
That cou'd slay my ten thousand in a morning, and
Never sweat for't? Have I the sow'r Look of a Heroe?
Silvio.
Your Look will cause more wonder than fear, my
Lord; you are too young to be very terrible.
Clot.
Nay I know I shou'd look more like a Warrier,
If I were not so handsom; Pox on't, I have
Look'd so clear ever since I took Physick last,
That Gad I'me afraid people begin to think I paint.
Silvio.
They often look smiling on you, I confess.
Clot.
Come, begin then, first play and then sing; you shall
Charm her with your Fingers, and you with your Tongue,
Whilst I, God Mars, brandish my Weapon; and if
Tonguing, fingering and fighting, don't please her,
The Devil's in her.
Flutes and a Song here; a Lady looks out.
Lelia.
My Lady is rising Sir, she hears your Musick.
Clot.
Ud so, she peeps through the Window yonder now.
The Dance, the Dance.
Enter Eugenia and Clarina.
She comes; away all and leave me to her.
Exeunt▪
Good morrow to the radiant Queen of Beauty;
Fierce Mars in Field with Sword and Shield yields
Thee the time o'th' day.
Eugen.
I am covetous of thanks Sir, and scarce can spare 'um,
Clot.
[Page 22]Gad that's a little morose tho', to a Deity of my
Valour and Quality.
Eugen.
It suits my Humour Sir: but pray why thus in Armour?
You amongst all men in my opinion,
Need not Burlesque your self.
Clot.
Burlesque? Now she mauls me with her hard words.
Madam, I love and honour you in plain terms; pray
Give your consent, and let's be married; your Heroes hate delays.
Eugen.
Married, what to such a Figure?
Clot.
Figure? Why I'me a Lord, and the Queen's my Mother,
As inconsiderable a Figure as you make me; Gads, that's
More than a banish'd Fellow of your Acquaintance can
Pretend to, since you go to that.
Eugen.
That banish'd Fellow is a God, when ballanc'd
With your weak merit; I swear his meanest
Garment that ever touch'd his Body, is more dear to me
Thar▪ the life's service of a hundred Cloten's.
Clot.
His Garment? A Plague, what his Shirt?
Eugen.
Hah! my Bracelet lost, my dear Lelia?
Run to my Woman instantly.
Clot.
His Garment did you say?
Eugen.
I am sprighted with a Fool, frighted and anger'd worse:
Bid her, Clarina, search for a Bracelet, that too
Casually hath left my Arm;
I wou'd not lose it for a King's Revenue;
I think I saw't this morning; sure I am,
Last night 'twas on my Arm, I kiss'd it;
I hope it is not gone to tell my Lord,
That I kiss ought but him.
Exit Clar.
Clot.
His Shirt, what his contaminated Shirt,
Preferr'd before my Service? I'le be reveng'd;
I'le not take this; by Iove, I'le tell your Father.
Exit Clot.
Eugen.
Daily to live thus tortur'd by this Fool,
Is double misery; therefore I'me now resolv'd
To free my self: The way is thus contriv'd;
I'le steal from Court in a disguise; Pisanio
I know will stand my Friend through his Life's hazard,
And never shrink at danger: This once done,
With joy I'le meet my dearest Lord in Exile,
Feed him with Love, and sweeten all his Cares
With soft Embraces; then each happy night,
Fancy a Palace of a poor Retreat,
And slight the inconstant Glories of the Great.
Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE II.
Enter Ursaces and Beaupre.
Beau.
WEll, my brave Friend, what think you of your Wager?
Shattillion must by this be coming back.
Ursa.
A Coxcomb as he went. Ha, ha! Wou'd I were
As certain to win the King agen, as I am
Confirm'd—her Honour is secure.
Beau.
Hear you no News to day?
Ursa.
Not I: Have you any?
Beau.
Yes, and of moment: I was just now inform'd,
That Caius Lucius, sent by great Augustus,
Is going with an Embassy to Britain,
Commission'd to demand retarded Tribute,
And I fear,
Your King will sooner gratifie his Message,
Than enrage our warlike Romans, whose
Late Conquest lives yet fresh in his memory.
Ursa.
I am not of your mind, but rather do believe,
(States-man though I am none, nor like to be)
That this will prove a War.
Enter Shattillion.
Beau.
By all that's good, Shattillion.—See Sir.
Ursa.
The swiftest Racers posted you by Land,
And Winds in all the corners kiss'd your Sails▪
To make your Vessel nimble.
Beau.
Welcome Sir.
Ursa.
I hope the briefness of your Answer made
The speediness of your Return.
Shatt.
Your Lady, Sir,
Is faith the fairest that I ever look'd on.
Ursa.
And therewithal the best, or else her
Beauty is but a shadow, or like a painted
Tulip, for nothing good but show.
Shatt.
Here are Letters for ye.
Ursa.
Their tenure good, I trust.
Ursa▪ reads.
Shatt.
'Tis very likely.—
Beau.
Is Caius Lucius, Ambassador from the
Emperor, expected yet in Britain?
Shatt.
He was talk'd of—but I had other business
There than to mind News.
Ursa.
[Page 24]All is well yet.
Sparkles that Stone as it was wont Sir, or is it
Too dull for you to wear?
Shatt.
If I had lost it,
I shou'd have lost the worth of it in Gold;
But I'le make a Journey twice as far,
T'Enjoy a night of such sweet shortness,
As was mine in Britain.—Sir, the Ring
Is won.
Ursa.
The Stone's too hard to come by.
Shatt.
Not at all, your Lady being so easie.
Ursa.
Why sure you will be wiser than to make
Your loss your sport; I hope you know Sir, we
Must not continue Friends.
Shatt.
Faith Sir, we must,
If you keep Covenant, had I not brought
The knowledge of your Mistress home, I grant
We were to question farther; but I now
Profess my self the winner of her Honour▪
Together with your Ring, and not the wronger
Of her or you at all, having proceeded
But by Agreement.
Ursa.
If you can make't appear
You have enjoy'd her in her Bed, my Hand and
Ring is yours; if not, my Sword must right the
Wrong done to her Chastity.
Shatt.
Chastity? ha, ha!
Ursa.
Ha, ha! Why is her sacred part become so tainted,
That 'tis but worth your Fleer?
Shatt.
I am sorry to confess it, Sir.
Ursa.
Devils and Hell—Confess it?—Come, be
Brief your Story.
Shatt.
First, her Bed-chamber:
Where I confess I slept not, for she gave me
That which was well worth watching; it was hang'd
With Tapestry of Silk and Silver; the Story
Was the Meeting of th' Egyptian Queen and
Anthony, when Cidnus swell'd above the Banks
For pride, to bear that glorious Heroe
And his Mistress, that gave the World
For Love.
Ursa.
This is nothing;
For I perhaps, or any other ask'd,
Might tell you thus much.
Shatt.
More Particulars
Shall justifie my Knowledge.
Ursa.
So they must,
Or do your Credit injury.
Shatt.
[Page 25]The Chimney—
Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-
Piece Diana bathing:—Never saw I
Figures so nearly drawn to Nature;
The skilful Painter had even outdone
The Life, so excellent was his dumb Poetry.
Ursa.
And what of this?
Let it be granted what you say is true,
And praise be given to your Remembrance:
Th' Description of what is in her Chamber,
Must not saye the Wager you have laid.—
Shatt.
Must it not? Then if you can be pale,
I beg your leave to air this Jewel.—See
And presto,—now 'tis up agen; it must be married
There to your Diamond; I beg your pardon, Sir, that
I play the Jugler with you.
Ursa.
Iove—Is it that I gave her? 'Tis impossible:
Pray once more let me see it.
I swear, the very same.
The Bracelet that I gave her at our parting,
And dam'd her with an Oath to keep for ever;
'Tis that, it must, nay now I know 'tis that.—
Shatt.
Yes, Sir, 'tis that, the very that, I thank her,
She took it from her Arm, methinks I see her yet;
Her pretty action did outsel her gift,
And yet enrich'd it too; she gave it me,
Then smiling, sigh'd and said, she priz'd it once.
Ursa.
May be she pluck'd it off to send it me.
Shatt.
She writes so to ye, does she?
Ursa.
Death and Hell! There's no truth,
Where there is Beauty; the seeming modest face
Lyes even at the Altar and at Prayers;
Honour and Love in that false Sex are nothing;
Profit still breaks their Vows, and Lust their Constancy;
Pride dams their Beauty, Perjury their Souls.
Beau.
Have patience, Sir:
It may be probable she lost it; or
Who knows but one of her Women being corrupted,
May steal it from her.
Ursa.
Very true.
And so I hope he came by't. Render me, Sir,
Some noted Mark, some corporal Sign about her,
More evident than this, for this was stoll'n.
Shatt.
By Iupiter, I had it from her Arm.
Ursa.
Hark you, he swears, by Iupiter he swears,
Binds the salacious Villany by Oath,
And never blushes for't. Oh Hell of Impudence!
[Page 26]Is there a Fury hot as Womankind?
By the Fiends there is not.
Take it, for thou hast won, I swear thou hast,
And the most fulsom way; for well I know
She cou'd not lose it; her Attendants are
All sworn and honourable, they induc'd to steal it,
And for a Stranger; no, he has enjoy'd her.
Beau.
Good Sir, be calm, you may be yet deceiv'd.
Shatt.
For further satisfying, under her left Breast,
Worthy my pressing, lyes a Mole, right proud
Of that most delicate Lodging; by my Life
I kiss'd it, and it gave me present hunger
To feed agen, though full. You may perhaps, Sir,
Remember this Stain upon her.
Ursa.
I, and it confirms
Another Stain, big as the dismal Cause,
Where Devils freeze and burn. Say on, what more?
Shatt.
Why wou'd you have more?
Ursa.
Now I think on't; no, for shame speak not the rest.
Shatt.
By yonder blessed Sun.
Ursa.
No swearing, Sir.
If you will swear you have not don't, ye lye,
And I will kill thee if thou dar'st deny.
Shatt.
I'le deny nothing.
Ursa.
Had I her here, I'de tear her into atomes;
But live she shannot, nor with whorish grace
Laugh at my Infamy.—Oh cursed Marriage!
Thou Hell to th' Mind, and Body's Purgatory.
Meet we with common Creatures, they are kind,
Love out their hour with eagerness and Art,
And if they give Diseases—'tis their Trade,
We can expect no less. But th' Marriage-state
Gives ye a guilded Pill that poysons ye,
And yet pretends to cure.—The Plague of Life,
And Curse of our Creation—was a Wife.
Exit.
Beau.
He's quite besides
The government of Patience.—You have won:
But come, let's in, and prevent the present rage
He means against himself.
Shatt.
With all my heart: I'le follow ye Sir, ha, ha, ha!
Exit Beau▪
I am sensible this Lye will occasion some mischief:
But a Poxon't, I cou'd not for my life but make
The most on't, when my hand was in. Well, what
Wit has begun, Policy must preserve; and Tongue
Be but thou silent, and then let him fist out the
Matter as well as he can.
Exit.
[Page 27]Enter Ursaces with a Letter and Servant.
Ursa.
This Paper signs her death: I know my Friend,
My good old Friend Pisanio, will dispatch her
On sight of this—and then she is with the Furies.
Fly Sirrah with this to the Packet-Boat.
Servant.
I'me gone, my Lord.—
Exit.
Ursa.
But why shou'd Nature make us miserable?
Is there no way for Man to be, but Women
Must be half-Workers? We are all Bastards,
And that most venerable Man which I
Did call my Father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd:
Yet my Mother seem'd
The Vesta of her time, so did my Wife,
The Jewel of this Age. Oh damn'd Hypocrisie!
Me of my lawful Pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me oft forbearance, did it with
A Pudency so Rosie, that sweet object
Might well have warm'd old Saturn, that I thought her
As chast as un-Sunn'd Snow, as pure as Vertue,
And lost my self in my imagin'd joys.
That's as the hapless Merchant rash and young,
Listens to hear the charming Siren's charming Song;
His Soul is fetter'd, and he fain wou'd get
To the fair tempting Creature's rocky Seat;
And to the Charmers swiftly strives to run,
Leaps on the fatal Shore, and is undone:
So tempting Beauty did my Sense betray,
And faithless Woman stole my Soul away.
Exit.
SCENE III. A Rocky Cave.
Enter Belarius, Arviragus, and Palladour, in wild Habits.
Belar.
THe Sun, the glorious Monarch of the day,
Guilds all the Valleys, and with chearful beams
Smiles on the Persian, who with prostrate Body
[Page 28]Now pays his Adoration: This instructs us
How to admire the Heavens, and bend our minds
To a Mornings holy Office. Come forth my Sons,
The blessings of my Age; warmth of my Winter;
Come forth, and with your customary Duties
Pay Reverence to Heaven and the Morn.—
Hail great Divinity.
Arvir.
Hail gracious Heaven, and our most noble Father.
Palla.
Hail Heaven, and to the Parent of our Lives.
Bellar.
Is not this Life better,
Than servilely attending for a Check,
Or be oblig'd to flatter some gross Fool,
That gives ye Food and Raiment? Is it not richer▪
Than thriving in contempt of Honesty,
Or proudly ruffling in unpaid for Silk;
When the poor Creditor
Oft gains the Cap of him he has made fine,
Yet keeps his Books uncross'd?
Arvir.
You told us, Sir,
That Nature stamp'd all humane-kind like us:
Gan they resemble us, and are not honest?
Bellar.
The Face deceives all;—'tis the Nation's Plague,
That he that looks most honest, soonest wrongs ye.
Arvir.
I hate a Villain as I love Vertue, and cou'd wish
A season to imploy my eager Courage,
And steep my Javelin in the reeking bloud
Though of a Giant, that had wrong'd my Father.
Bellar.
'Twas kind; but thou art young, Arviragus, a twig
That shak'st with every blast; art like a Woman,
But that I think thou hast not so much falshood.
Arvir.
Why are there Women false too?
Bellar.
False as Court-Promises;
Or the young Trader's Oath; but that the fruit of Falshood
Gains more than Vertue. You may find by me
My Honesty undid me; my Body's mark'd
With Roman Weapons, and my Fame was once
First with the men of Note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a Souldier was the Theam, my Name
Was loud as any's: Then was I as a Tree
Whose Boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night,
(So ill did Fortune love me) a rude Storm
Shook down my mellow Blessings, nay my Leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
Arvir.
Uncertain Favour: But cou'd you not revenge it?
Cou'd your great Soul suppress such Injuries,
Be mildly passive in a Cause so just?
Now▪ by that Reverend Shape, had I been wrong'd so,
[Page 29]I wou'd have sought my Enemies through dangers,
Numerous as Stars, and though hemm'd round with Foes,
Feast my Revenge, then smiling, took my Fate.
Bellar.
Arviragus, Thou art too passionate; thy fiery temper
Will waste thee like a Feaver.
Pallad.
Be silent Brother, and hear my Father's Story.
Bellar.
My fault being nothing, as I've often told you,
But that two Villains hating me, swore to Cymbeline,
I was Confederate with the Romans, so
Follow'd my Banishment, and this 20 years
This Rock and these Demeans have been my World.
Arvir.
Death to your Honour! Did you part so tamely?
Did you not kill the Villains? Oh I tremble,
And all my Bloud's on fire, at th' apprehension
Of your disgrace? Such Injuries as these
Require Bloud, Ruine, Desolation,
Fatal Destruction, Death in thousand terrors.
Oh Heaven and Earth, not kill him!
Pallad.
They were kill'd, were they not, Sir?
Bellar.
They were, tho' not by me. But come, the day grows old,
Now up to th' Mountains, 'tis the Hunter's language,
And he that strikes the Venison first shall be the
Lord o'th' Feast: Away, I'le meet you in the Valleys.
Pallad.
Come Brother, I lodg'd a stately Stag last night,
A Pollard that has newly cast his head; let's go
And chace him, he is our Feast.
Arvir.
No, I have a nobler Game▪ A Forest Boar
Last night did cross my way, and staring on me,
Grinding his foaming Tushes, roar'd and fled;
My Javelin I swiftly darted at him,
Which glancing from his Shoulder cleft the ground,
And Night opposing with dark shades, I lost
What now will find and conquer.
Exeunt Bro,
Bellar.
Heaven protect ye.
How hard it is to hide the Sparks of Nature:
These Boys know little they are Sons to th'King,
Nor does their Father dream they are alive.
They think they are mine, and tho' bred up thus meanly,
They think and do like Princes.
Oh Cymbeline, Heaven and thy Conscience knows,
Thou did'st unjustly banish me, for which
At three and two years old I stole thy Children,
Thinking to take from thee a Successor,
As thou my Lands from me; 'tis a Revenge
Pleases my Age. Now to my brace of Princes,
Who swifter than two Roes leap o're the Hills,
And in their speedy Chace outstrip the Winds.
Exit.
Pisan.
How—Of Adultery, and with a Gallia [...]?
Then all my Fears prove true, and that tall Fellow
I once saw with her, proves the Villain I doubted.
Oh perjur'd Creature!
Eugen.
This is a strange wild melancholy Place;
Good my Lord, how far is't now to Milford?
Why do you shun me so? My Legs are weary
In striving to o'retake ye: Alas I know the trouble
I bring upon you! But for pity's sake
Reflect not on it now. You went this morning
To meet the Post with Letters; my heart pants,
I hope there's no ill News.
Pisan.
Oh Woman, Woman!
Who ere cou'd learn thy deep Philosophy,
Or fathom thy unsounded Sea of Graft?
That Look of her's has power to cause sound Faith
Revolt, and make men fancy her a Saint.
This Letter proves a Devil.
Eugen.
What Letter's that? Is't from my Lord?
Pisan.
From him that was your Lord:
Read it, and when you have done, prepare to die.
Eugen.
To die? Good Gods, for what?
Pisan.
Read there, and blush instead of growing pale;
The Crime will give occasion.
Eugen.
reads.
—Pisanio, My Wife has damn'd her self, and
Play'd the Strumpet in my Bed: (Oh gracious Heaven!)
The testimonies whereof lye bleeding in me, and a
Fluttering Gallian is more grateful to her than
Her unhappy Husband. I write this from
Proofs, as strange as my Griefs; therefore
Kill her, if thou lov'st me, and send a Handkerchief
Dipp'd in her bloud: That done, my Interest here shall
Secure both thy Life and Fortune. Ursaces.
I'le kiss thy Name although it brings me death,
A cruel death to th' Innocent. Oh my Fortune!
Swounds.
Pisan.
Why there now.
There is another Fetch of female Policy,
This Swouning: I have known a Woman swound
At the puking of her Monkey, or feign sorrow
To see her Husband's Nose bleed [...] Craft, Craft, damn'd Craft:
I'le not believe'um. Oh she comes agen!
Eugen.
False to his Bed? What is it to be false?
To lye in watch there, and to think of him;
To weep 'twixt hour and hour: If Sleep charge Nature
[Page 31]To break it with a frightful Dream of him,
And cry my self awake; can this be Falshood?
Pisan.
Weak Excuses.
You ill plead Innocence, when your vertuous Lord
Defames you thus by Letter, and has proof
Of your detested Crime; for well I know,
He wou'd not write this without good assurance.
Eugen.
Yes, any thing to please his new-found Mistress,
That basely reaps the harvest of my Love.
Mens Vows are Womens Traitors; and as Synon,
That perjur'd Wretch, that cunning flattering Greek,
By weeping scandall'd many a holy Tear;
So does Ursaces by his broken Oaths,
The Faith of all Mankind.
Pisan.
And you by Levity,
The vertue of your Sex. Kneel therefore, and pray,
Or unprepar'd receive your Fate.
Draws.
Eugen.
I swear
I am not guilty, yet do not wish to live,
Kneels.
Ursaces being false. Come, strike my Lord,
Strike the innocent Mansion of my Love, my heart,
And give a hapless, much wrong'd Woman, rest,
As lasting as her woes.
Pisan.
Do you not fear?
Eugen.
My grief has made me past it.
Pisan.
Die then, lest it return; it wonnot be:
Methinks some Genius hinders my rash Arm,
And blames my cruel purpose.
Eugen.
Make not my Death your Sport,
But do a speedy justice for your Friend,
And tell my Lord, when I am laid in Earth,
He then may revel quietly.
Pisan.
I cannot do't,
And I'le attempt no farther. If she is false,
Let Heaven punish her; I'le leave her to its mercy,
And with some bloudy token greet her Lord,
As if I had perform'd the horrid Action.
Madam, I pity you, and through that passion
Resolve to save your Life: But from this moment
Expect no further service; for Heaven forbid,
The least grain of my Love shou'd fall on her,
Whose blameful Levity wrong'd my dearest Friend▪
Thus then I turn away, and all alone
Within this gloomy melancholy Desart,
Leave you to Fortune: If you are innocent,
That Innocence protect you; but if guilty▪
As I much doubt you are, let Thunder
Punish the hated Falshood.—Fare ye well.
Eugen.
[Page 32]Stay, dear my Lord▪ Oh do not leave me so,
So lost, so comfortless!
Pisan.
No tears shall stop me; there's too much of Woman in 'um.
Eugen.
Alas I know not where I am! The Place
Is ruthless, wild and uninhabited;
No friendly Path leads to a neighbouring Village,
But all untrod and savage, like the Covert
Of some rude Satyr; here only Nettles grow, and Ivy
That clings to th' dismal Ewe; and in yon Rock,
The dreadful spotted Toads and poysonous Serpents
Will hourly fright me with their Croaks and Hisses.
Ah do not leave me in this horrid Place,
For I shall die with Fear!
Pisan.
I must be gone,
Tho' her words touch me strangely.
Aside.
Eugen.
I shall be starv'd too. Recal, recal Humanity,
And let that aged Breast bear tender Nature:
Let th' Oath of Knighted, charm ye not to suffer
A wretched Princess famish in a Desart.
Pisan.
The Summer-fruit that now lades every Bush,
Makes vain that Fear. To help ye a little,
Take here this Glass, I had it from the Queen,
What's in't is precious; when you're sick, a dram on't
Will drive away Distemper. Farewel; my heart
Bleeds for ye, altho' your abhorred Crimes deserve no pity.
Exit.
Eugen.
Ye mighty Powers, that sway yon glorious Heaven,
Rise from your awful Thrones, look down and pity
A wretched Innocence; for well ye know,
I'me guiltless, and deserve not this Barbariety,
Tho' more than Scithians cruel. Poor Eugenia,
Where wilt thou fly for Succour? Home is fatal:
If to my Lord; why he has sent to kill me.
Too cruel Husband of a Wife so faithful.
Oh wretched state!
Oh Misery! If Vertue be thus us'd,
How are the vicious punish'd? What shall I do,
And whither shall I turn? As some poor Slave,
Accus'd of Crimes which he had never done,
Is from his angry Patron's Favour thrown.
Hated altho' he faithfully did serve,
Is cast on some wild Beach to pine and starve.
In vain bemoans himself, and makes defence,
In vain sighs, weeps, and tells his Innocence.
Sits sadly on some Rock, his Eyes do flow,
Mourns his hard Fate, but knows not where to go.
So I unskilful what strange Course to run,
Must perish here, by faithless man undone.
Exit.
The End of the Third Act.
ACT IV.
SCENE I▪
Enter Queen, Cloten, Clarina, Jachimo, Aurelia, and Attendants.
Queen.
THou seed of Mischief, young Practitioner
In th' Art of Treachery, how didst thou dare
To conceal this devilish Secret,
No less than the disturbance of a Nation?
But in thy death I'le strait revenge th' Affront.
Clar.
Oh do not fright me with the name of Death!
But look with pity, Madam, on my tears,
And see a wretched Virgin beg for Life:
So may your Raign be prosp'rous, so your Beauty
Still fresh and heavenly, as your mercy flows
In showers of tender pity on my youth.
Cloten.
Pity? Ay, let me have her, I'le show pity on her
Youth; Gad, I'le first make my Footman ravish her,
And then have her hang'd.
Iachimo.
And why your Footman, my Lord? I hope you have
Other Friends about you that will do her that kindness.
Queen.
I have consider'd now she shall not die so well,
But banish'd, live to prolong her misery,
And none shall help her, upon pain of Death.
My Lord Iachimo, to you I give the Wretch,
Use her as she deserves: Hence hated Harpey.
Clar.
Nay kill me now, and I will think you kind;
Let [...] not be a prey to his wild Lust.
Queen.
Away with her, I will not hear a word.
Iachimo.
You'l like me better in the Countrey, Madam;
Come, come, there's no remedy.
Drags her out.
Clar.
No spark of Pity; help, help.
Cloten.
Stop her Mouth, away with her; I'le go and
Dispatch a small Affair, and follow thee.—
Exit.
Queen.
I've been too slow in executing vengeance,
Too dull and cold; had I been diligent,
I cou'd have stopp'd her posting toward Gallia,
And sent her Post to the Furies. Who's that comes yonder?
Aurel.
The King, Madam, and by his actions seems
In a high rage.—
Queen.
I'le whet it to a madness.
King.
Go search the Countrey round, and bring her back:
Send out more Horses; let every Town and Village
Be narrowly survey'd, each House, each Cottage,
Caves, Grotto's, nay the very clefts of Rocks.
Seek and return me this rebellious Fugitive,
Or lose your Monarch ever.
Queen.
Send to Milford,
If you'l succeed: We hear now she's gone to ship▪
For Gallia, to meet her Love in Exile.
Enter a Captain.
Capt.
I come to inform your Majesty, that the
Beacons near to Milford-Haven are fired;
And the Post just come declares,
The Roman Army's landed there,
Led on by Gaius Lucius.
King.
Summon all the Captains,
And give strict Order that the Troops be ready
With the next Sun. I'le to the Field in person,
And with my presence animate the Souldiers.
Away, and sound to War; draw up your Infantry:
We'le timely march, and scourge this haughty Roman: Oh
Eugenia! wer't thou here, I'de fear no Foe.
Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Cave.
Enter Eugenia.
Eugen.
GOod Heaven!
No Succour yet: I'me tired with wandring,
And saint with hunger. Ah some kind Silvian God,
That rul'st these Groves, rise from thy mossie Couch,
And with thy hoord of Summer wholesom Fruits,
Preserve an innocent Lady from sharp Famine!
I saw an Apple-tree in yonder Thicket,
[Page 35]On which eager to feed, as I drew near it,
A large grown Serpent from the hollow root,
Oppos'd my raging hunger, and instead of pitying
My pale and pining Looks, with flaming Eyes,
And dreadful Hisses, like the Hesperian Dragon,
Frighted me from the place; the very Trees, I think,
Take part with cruel man. Ha! what gloomy Place is this?
Here is a Path to't; sure 'tis some savage Hold.
Hoa, who's there?
If any thing that's civil, speak and help
A wretched Creature; but if savage,
Be speedy in my death. No Answer; then I'le enter.
Now Mercy, Heaven.
Exit.
Enter Bellarius and Palladour.
Bellar.
I've haunch'd the Stag, and hung his Quarters up
The backside of the Cave, and when your Brother comes,
We'le make our Feast.
Horn within.
Palla.
Hark, I think I hear his Horn; let's go and
Meet him, he has ventur'd hard to day, it may
Be the wild Boar has hurt him too.
Bellar.
Heaven forbid, my Boy.—
Exeunt.
Re-enter Eugenia with Meat, eating and lifting up her hands.
Eugen.
Bless'd be this poor Retreat; for ever bless'd
The Steward of this Feast, that brings me comfort,
And saves me from a miserable Fate. Oh Heaven!
How sweet is this course Bare, this little morsel,
Which in prosperity my lavish hand▪
Wou'd have profusely thrown away to Dogs?
How dearly does it relish now? How covetous am I
Of each least Bit? Pardon great Providence:
We are ignorant of our selves, till Miseries
Purge our corrupted Natures, and Want, rare Artists,
Moulds us to sence of our Mortality.
Eats and drinks.
Enter Bellarius, Palladour, and Arviragus, with a Boar's Head.
Bellar.
Welcome Arviragus; welcome my young Heroe,
Let me embrace thee.
Pallad.
Welcome dear Brother, I congratulate your Conquest,
I see you shun no danger.
Arvir.
Danger? 'tis my Pleasure:
I wou'd not give a minute for a Victory,
Unless by hazard sweetned; there's the bliss,
[Page 36]The proof of Valour.—This very Boar to day,
Foaming through rage, with mighty force rush'd on me,
And ere I cou'd avoid, threw me to th' ground;
When angry at my fall, I spurn'd him from me,
Rose quick, and with my Javelin pierc'd his heart.
Bellar.
Thanks Heaven for thy Escapes. Come Palladour,
Your Brother to day is Master of the Feast;
We'le play the Cook and Servant. How now, what's here?
Palla.
What's the matter, Sir?
Bellar.
Stand back a little:
But that he eats our Victuals, I shou'd think
He were a Fury.
Palla.
Iupiter—What is't?
Arvir.
An Angel, by my Soul; or else at least
Some Rural Deity.
Bellar.
A pretty Boy, a very Cupid: Hold, it's going to speak.
Eugen.
Good Master, hurt me not.
Before I enter'd here I call'd, and thought
To have begg'd or bought what I have took: Indeed
I have stoll'n nothing, nor wou'd not, though I had found
Gold strew'd ith' Floor; Here's money for my Meat:
Kneeling.
I wou'd have left it on the Board as soon
As I had made my Meal, and then departed,
With humble thanks and prayers for the Provider.
Bellar.
Money—sweet Youth.
Arvir.
Let Gold and Silver, the Dirt o'th' Earth, be priz'd
By such as worship dirty Gods, not us.
Eugen.
I see you are angry;
But know, if you kill me for my fault, I shou'd▪
Have dy'd, had I not made it.
Palla.
With what a modest innocence he speaks?
Arvir.
And what a rosie face he has?
Bellar.
Whither are you going?
Eugen.
To Milford.
Bellar.
I hope you have done no mischief, and are flying,
From Justice?
Eugen.
No, Heaven knows, not I.
Bellar.
What's your Name?
Eugen.
Fidele, Sir; I have a Kinsman that
Is bound for Rome; he embarks at Milford Haven,
To whom being going, I lost my way ith' Woods,
And almost pin'd with hunger,
Am faln in this offence; pray pardon me,
kneels and weeps.
Bellar.
Prethee my pretty fellow,
Think us not Churles, nor measure our good minds
By this rude place we live in, come, come, thou'rt welcome,
Heartily welcome, and shalt have better cheer,
[Page 37]Ere thou depart'st, and thanks to stay and take it.
Nay prithee wipe thy eyes: Boys, bid him welcome.
By Iove, there's something in his honest Look,
That moves my heart with love and pity for him.
Pallad.
I know not what you feel, but in my breast
Love gives him large possession; my Genius tells me,
He's worthy our best Favour. Sir, I embrace ye.
Arvir.
And I as kindly as I wou'd a Sister,
Were she distress'd as thou art. Welcome, dear Brother:
I'le call thee so, and wou'd revenge thy wrongs
With a full heart, knew I the fatal Authors.
Eugen.
A thousand blessings on you. Oh gracious Heaven!
Can this be true? Are there such blessings left
Yet for Eugenia?
Pallad.
He weeps at some Distress.
Arvir.
And the clear drops stand on his blushing Cheek,
As pearly dew on Roses. Come, my sweet Brother,
You must not be thus sad; we are all your Friends,
And love you heartily, I do swear.
Embraces.
Pallad.
And I, by yonder Sun; there is methinks
A sympathy between us.
Bellar.
For my part,
I lik'd him at first sight: Come, welcome, welcome;
In troth you are too melancholy.
Eugen.
A small Distemper, Sir:
'Twill quickly away agen.—How courteously they use me?
And with what honesty express their Love?
Dear modest Creatures.
Bellar.
Now Sirs, let's in,
And dress our Venison; when we have supp'd, sweet Boy,
We'le mannerly desire of thee thy Story,
As far as is convenient.
Eugen.
I'me oblig'd to you for Life, Sir.
Arvir.
Come dearest Brother.
Pallad.
More lov'd than the ruddy morn, or the
Purling Brook, when parch'd with heat o'th'
Dog-star, we descend to quench our eager thirst.
Eugen.
I'me bound to you for ever:
And now too well I can disprove Report,
The Countrey is not savage, but the Court.
Exeunt, they embracing her.
SCENE III.
Enter Pisanio.
Pisan.
MY Heart throbbs still, my Senses are disturb'd too,
And since I left the Princess in you Court,
I have not been at rest; sure she's innocent,
And I and her rash Lord have been abus'd.
I'le seek her out,
And comfort her, for I believe she's innocent.
Exit.
Enter Cloten in Ursaces Cloaths, and Jachimo dragging in Clarina in a mean Habit.
Clar.
Look on my tears, and let them melt your heart,
Your rocky hearts, yet harder far than Stone;
For Stones melt, when relenting Heavens weeps,
But you grow more obdurate with my tears.
Iachimo.
Tears? Why thou canst not oblige me more than to
Weep soundly; it makes the flame of Love more
Vigorous; Oh I like a pass [...] Woman in that
Business extreamly! she ha [...] [...]nest ways
With her.
Clar.
Think you not on your Souls? Alas, when I am dead,
As I will ne're outlive so black a Villany,
My Ghost will fright you, your wounded Consciences
Lash and torment you like a thousand Furies.
Clot.
Ghost? A pox o'thy Ghost: Prithee art thou such a
Fool to think we fear the Devil? Iachimo, show
Her the contrary, rowze her, towze her, Boy, I'le
Do thee an honourable kindness, and pimp for thee,
For fear of disturbance.
Iachimo.
A very friendly part, faith, my Lord: Come, Madam,
You and I must be more familiar; nay, nay, no
Strugling, my heart's a flame, and you must quench the fire.
Clar.
Rather be burn'd to ashes, barbarous Wretch; help, help.
Oh Heaven, send down thy Thunder, dash me to the Earth,
Rather than suffer this: Help, help.
Enter Pisanio.
Pisan.
What pitious Cry was that? sure 'twas a Woman's voice
By the shrill sound. Good Gods, what's this I see?
My Daughter here?
Clarin.
[Page 39]Mercy—unlook'd for: 'Tis he, Oh my dear Father,
Runs and embraces him.
In a bless'd minute are you come to save me!
Pisan.
Ha! Lord Cloten too?
Then all's discover'd, and I'me lost.
Cloten.
See Iachimo, yonder's that old Traitor too luckily
Faln into our snare: Go, go, take his Daughter
From him, and ravish her before his face.
Iachimo.
With all my heart; I'le not lose for a million.
Pisan.
He comes upon his death that touches her: Base men,
Have you no humane Nature?
Cloten.
Does he expostulate? Kill, kill the Slave.
Pisan.
I first shall see thy death.
Cloten.
No, Thou shalt never see agen; for when I have conquer'd thee,
With my Sword's point, I'le dig out both thy eyes,
Then drag thee to my Mother to be tortur'd.
Iachimo.
I'le do his business presently.
Fight, Pisanio wounded.
Pisan.
Fly Daughter, fly, whilst my remains of Life
I render for thy safety.
Clarin.
Oh save my Father! Heaven save him, save him.
Exit.
Fights still, Pisanio kills Jachimo, then falls down with him, and Cloten disarms him.
Pisan.
Thou hast it now, I think.
Iachimo.
A Plague on him, he has kill'd me. Oh—
Dyes.
Cloten.
Curs'd Misfortune! He's dead; but I'me resolv'd to
Be thy true Prophet however, thou shalt not
See my death, unless with other eyes.
Puts out his eyes.
Pisan.
Hell-born Fury! Oh—
Cloten.
So, now smell thy way out of the Wood, whilst
I follow thy Daughter, find her, and cut her piece-meal:
I'le sacrifice her to the Ghost of Iachimo.
Exit.
Pisan.
All dismal, dark as Night, or lowest Shades,
The Regions of the Dead, or endless Horror;
The Sun with all his light now gives me none,
But spreads his beamy Influence in vain,
And lends no Glimpse to light my Land of darkness.
Sure near this Place there lyes a Sword,
Crawls about to find his Sword.
I'le try if I can find it. Pitiless Fate,
Wilt thou not guide my hand? My Wound's not mortal,
And I shall yet live Ages: True sign of Grief,
When we do wish to die before our time.
I'le crawl into some Bush and hide my self,
Till Fate's at leisure; there
To the dumb Grove recount my Miseries,
Weep Tears of bloud from Wounds instead of Eyes.
Crawls out.
SCENE IV.
Enter Bellarius from the Cave.
Bellar.
TUrning my head towards you point o'th' Sea,
Methoughts I heard a noise of Drums and Trumpets,
With shouts of men, as of an Army landed:
Perhaps 'tis so indeed; I know the Romans
Have long watch'd an advantage, and wou'd run
With joy the race great Caesar once begun.
Enter Palladour, Arviragus and Eugenia.
Pallad.
You are not well; pray stay here in the Cave.
Bellar.
Go you to Hunting, Sons, I'le stay with him.
Eugen.
I beseech you do not; nay then you'l make me blush,
To think how much I trouble ye: Let me beg ye,
Stick to your Journal Course; the breach of Custom
Is breach of all: I am ill, but your being by me,
Is not medicinable; Society is no comfort neither,
To one not sociable: Pray go and trust me here;
I'le rob none but my self, and if my self,
The theft's so poor 'tis not worth punishing.
Pallad.
There's so much vertue in his Love and Actions,
It more and more does steal away my heart.
Eugen.
Kind Heaven preserve you both. Oh sacred Providence!
Who cou'd have thought to find such gentle Creatures
In a wild rustick Cave, by Nature only taught?
I am sick still,
Very sick; now Pisanio I'le taste thy Cordial,
I never had more cause.
Exit Eugen.
Bellar.
Let's to our Silvian sport. How now, who's that?
Exit.
Enter Cloten.
Cloten.
I cannot find this Fugitive; sure the Devil
Has lent her wings to fly, and cross my purpose.
Cloten.
Hah! What are you that fly me thus? Some Villain Outlaws?
I've heard of such.—What Slave art thou?
Arvir.
A thing more slavish did I ne're, then answering
A Slave without a Knock.
Cloten.
Thou art a Robber: I'le murder thee.
Arvir.
[Page 41]Ye lye, you wonot, you cannot, nor you shan't,
I'le beat your Brains out first; S'death, have not I
An Arm as long as thine, a Heart as big?
Thy words may appear bigger, but I wear not
My Dagger in my mouth.
Cloten.
A plaguy little Whipster this: Why, thou
Abject Villain,
Knows me not by my Cloaths.
Arvir.
No, I say, how shou'd I?
Cloten.
Then hear my Name and tremble.
Arvir.
I tremble at nothing but the Thunder,
And that I'me sure thou canst not do:
What's thy Name?
Cloten.
Cloten, thou Villain.
Arvir.
Cloten? Then double Villain be thy Name,
I care not—Were it Toad, Spider, or Adder,
'Twou'd move me sooner.
Cloten.
To thy Confusion know, I am Son to th' Queen.
Arvir.
I am sorry for't, not seeming so worthy
As thy Birth.
Cloten.
Does thou not fear?
Arvir.
Those that I reverence, those I fear, the Wise,
All Fools I scourge and laugh at.
Cloten.
Y'are witty, are you? but I'le fetch ye out of
Your Jest presently; Sirrah,
I'le slay thee with this hand, and when thou
Art dead,
Upon the Gates of Ludds-Town set thy Head.
Arvir.
It stands yet on my Shoulders; come, come on Sir.
They fight; Cloten lets fall his Sword and runs out.
Enter Bellarius and Pallador.
Bellar.
No Company's abroad.
Pallad.
Not a man stirring—You did mistake him sure.
Bellar.
No, I am firm 'twas he.
Pallad.
In this Place we left 'um.
I wish my Brother make good party with him;
You say he's very strong.
Bellar.
I have often heard so.
Pallad.
He look'd but like a Fool. But see, our
Fears may vanish, here comes my Brother.
Enter Arviragus with Cloten's Head.
Arvir.
This Cloten was a Fool, an empty Purse,
There was no money in't; not Hercules
[Page 42]Cou'd have knock'd out his Brains, for he had
None; but I think I've stopp'd his Railing.
Bellar.
What hast thou done?
Throws the Head down.
Arvir.
Yon grinning Face will inform you.
I've cut off one Cloten's Head, Son to the Queen,
He says he is, who call'd me Villain, who
Swore he wou'd cut mine off from my
Shoulders, and set it upon Ludds-Town.
Bellar.
We are all undone▪
Pallad.
Why, worthy Father, what have we to lose?
The Law protects not us, why shou'd we fear?
Arviragus, I love thee like a Brother, but envy much
Thy Valour in this Action.
Bellar.
I fear 'twill be reveng'd.
Arvir.
With his own Sword he wav'd against my Throat,
I hew'd it off; I'le throw't into the Creek
Behind our Rock, and let it to the Sea,
To tell the Fishes he's the Queens Son Cloten.
That's all I care.
Exit Arvir. with the Head.
Pallad.
I'le go and see Fidele;
I hope he's somewhat better after Sleep.
Exit.
Bellar.
Oh divine Nature, how thou show'st thy Power
In these two Princely Boys! 'tis a wonder
That an invisible Instinct shou'd frame 'um
To Royalty unlearn'd, Honour untaught;
Civility not seen from others, Valour
That wildly grows in 'um, but yields a Crop
As if it had been sow'd.
Enter Arviragus.
Arvir.
I have sent Cloten's Clotpole down the Stream,
In Embassie to his Mother; his Body lyes
In yonder Thicket.—Hah, that's my Brother's Voice!
Cry within.
Where is he?
Bellar.
Gon out o'th' Cave just now to see Fidele.
Enter Palladore with Eugenia as dead.
Pallad.
See Brother, see, the pretty Bird is dead,
That we so well did love.
Bellar.
Dead? and by Melancholy? this is strange.
Arvir.
Oh piercing Sight! Thou sweetest, fairest Lilly,
My Brother wears thee now not half so well,
As when thou grew'st thy self.
Bellar.
How did'st thou find him?
Pallad.
Just as you see, smiling as in a slumber;
[Page 43]His right Cheek reposing on a Cushion on the Floor▪
His Arms thus cross'd, I thought he slept, and put
My Hunting-shooes from off my feet, whose rudeness
Answered my Steps too loud.
Bellar.
Well, 'tis in vain to mourn, what's past recovery:
Come Sons, let's lay him in our Tomb.
Arvir.
Rest there sweet Body of a sweeter Soul,
They lay him in the Grave.
Whilst we lament thy Fate.
Enter Caius Lucius, Captains and Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.
Capt.
To them the Succours sent from Gaul will joyn,
And now are setting forth to cross the Sea,
And meet you here at Milford.
Lucius.
What number are they?
Capt.
At least 10000. and all disciplin'd,
Bred to the War, most willing active Spirits,
That promise noble Service; they are coming
Under the Conduct of the bold Shattillion,
Syenna's Brother.
Lucius.
Oh I know him well, a most methodical Courtier:
But when d'ye expect 'um?
Capt.
With the next benefit of Wind.
Lucius.
This forwardness makes our hopes fair. What News
Have you from Ludds-Town?
Capt.
The Queen is dead, raging with desperate madness
For the absence of her Son late strangely lost,
And as they fear is murdered. But I hear the old King
Comes forward with his Power.
Lucius.
We shall the sooner meet him;
And Caesar shall have Tribute, or we'le shed
Our Roman Blood in Britain. What's here?
A Boy
Asleep I think, or dead; let's see his Face.
Capt.
He is alive, my Lord.
Lucius.
What art thou, Youth?
Eugen.
I am nothing; or if something,
'Twere better I were nothing.
Lucius.
This Countrey sure
Is savage grown: This Morning in yon Wood
I found an old Man, his Eyes just put out, wounded,
And freshly bleeding: And not far off from him,
A tender Virgin, running with Hair dishelved,
And crying to Heaven for succour; whom strait I seiz'd,
And carried to my Tent, where now they are.
Capt.
I saw 'um, and heard since they are of quality.
Lucius.
Look up, Youth, I'le entertain thee,
[Page 44]Thou shalt go with me.
Eugen.
I beseech you, Sir, excuse me.
Lucius.
By no means; I like thee well, thou shalt be my Page.
Eugen.
He's going with an Army 'gainst my Father;
I'th' Battel sure I cannot miss a death,
Amongst so many Swords. Well, Sir, if I must go.
Lucius.
Leave soft Grief,
And bend thy mind to th' War; if thou dost nobly,
Caesar shall honour thee. March.
Exeunt, Scene shuts upon Cloten's dead Body.
Enter Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus.
Pallad.
We are discover'd: Here, Sir, take your Sword,
And let's adventure out; 'tis much better
To brave a dangerous Fate, than tamely suffer it.
Pray let's to th' Army.
Bellar.
I shall be discover'd,
And then be rack'd and tortur'd.
Arvir.
Do not fear it:
This is, Sir, not a time for private Fewds;
Besides the Frost of twenty nipping Winters,
As many Summers Heats furrow that Brow
Which once was smooth: You look not now, my Father,
As you did then, when lusty Youth and Vigour
Sate blushing on your Cheek.
Pallad.
Consuming Time,
That alters every thing, you cannot doubt,
Has chang'd you much from what you were.
Bellar.
I know it;
And since your Valours prompt you to the War,
I'le hazard with good will remaining Life,
To get you Fame.
Pallad.
Whilst we have any Life, yours, Sir, shall be in safety.
Come, Brother, let's to the King's Party, 'tis the noblest way;
For never shall it be declar'd hereafter,
That our first Onset in the Race of Honour,
Was in ignoble Fight against our Countrey.
Bellar.
'Tis honourable Advice, and shall be follow'd.
And now methinks I wish to be in Battel:
Once more, Bellarius, draw thy Sword for Britain,
This Sword that made the all conquering Iulius
Stoop to the Earth, and groveling kiss the Dust,
When like another Cyclops, the sound stroak
Made his well-temper'd Helm shed sparks of Fire.
This Sword shall once more know the Toyles of War,
And reek with Victory.
Pallad.
Arvir.
Methinks my Heart grows bigger,
And swells within my Breast, to meet the Fame
My fatal Sword shall purchase. Oh my Father!
The thought of your fam'd Deeds so steels my Courage,
That when I'me full of Wounds, begrum'd with Dust,
Spotted with Blood, and hemm'd about with Enemies,
I shall break through like the young God of War:
With Blood of Foes the neighb'ring Valleys fill,
Like Lightning scatter, and like Thunder kill.
Exeunt.
The End of the Fourth Act.
ACT V.
Ursaces Solus.
Ursa.
FRom hollow Rocks and solitary Caves,
Where the evil Genius hunts the Miserable,
To mask in Shades, and shun the chearful Light,
Wretched Ursaces back to Britain comes,
Bearing this bloody witness of his Cruelty:
Heart-killing Sight! The Blood that stains this Linnen,
Once swell'd the Veins of the mildest, fairest, chastest;
O but not chast! In that my praise exceeded:
That Title fatally she lost, and now
Has paid too dearly for't;—yet divine Heaven,
Should every one that forfeits Honour, be
Depriv'd of Life, thy World wou'd be unpeopl'd.
The full fed City-Dame would sin in fear;
The Divine's Daughter slight the amorous Cringe▪
Of her tall Lover; the close salacious Puritan
Forget th' Appointment with her canting Brother.
Should rigorous Death punish the venial Error,
The fashion of the World would be abolish'd.
How great then is my Crime? I am brought hither▪
Disguis'd amongst the Cavalry, to fight
Against my Ladies Kingdom.—But 'tis enough, dear▪
Britain, I have kill'd thy Mistress.
Peace, I'le give no Wound to thee,
But mourn my fault, and fall in thy defence:
[Page 46]So some vile Wretch that in his Life has been
Unhappy, and has done some deadly Sin,
In Conscience struck, by some good Act does try
To merit Heav'n—make his peace and die.
Exit.
Enter King, Lords, and Captains, and the Britain Army at one Door, and Lucius, Shattillion, and the Roman Army at another: Trumpets found a Parley.
Cymb.
It grieves me I have reason, Caius Lucius▪
To meet thee thus in Arms—the Bower of Peace;
For my now frozen and unwieldy Age,
Were fitter than the noise Tents of War,
Were Honour not concern'd.—Say therefore, General,
Is there yet left a way, our Honour safe,
That we may end the Difference without Battel?
Lucius.
The Tribute due to Caesar being paid,
You are in peace, and we'le return to Rome.
Cymb.
That were ignoble, and not like a King.
Tho' Iulius Caesar made a Conquest here,
And of Casibelan had a Grant for Tribute,
I'me not oblig'd to pay it.
Silvio.
There may be many Caesars,
Ere such another Iulius.—Ours is a World by 'tself,
And the hardy Britains, Sir, will nothing pay,
For wearing their own Noses.
Shatt.
They shall pay,
If the cull'd Power of Rome and Gaul can make 'um:
But we have always noted you hard Britains,
As you call your selves, most valiant in your Talk,
And know you can run with an unmatch'd Celerity.
Cymb.
Now by my Crown,
You shall not buy us cheaply, nor shall this Isle,
That stands like Neptune's Park, pal'd round with Oaks,
And fenc'd with roaring Waters, e're pay Tribute,
While Cymbeline's alive.
Lucius.
Then for Augustus, thus I bid defiance:
Draws.
Caesar who has more tributary Kings,
Than thou domestick Slaves, and in his Name,
Bid thee prepare for Battel.
Cymb.
I take thee at thy word: Charge, charge my Friends;
This is your happy hour: Draw all your Swords,
And fight for Liberty, Cymbeline and Britain.
Lucius.
For Honour, Rome and Caesar, we.
Shatt.
Charge, charge there.
Shout here.
[Page 47]The King draws within his Troops, and the Armies engage; the Britains are beaten back, and the King taken: then Enter Ursaces, Bellarius, Pallador, Arviragus, to his Rescue; the King falls; Ursaces bistrides him.
Ursa.
Make good the Breach, whilst I defend the King.
Bellar.
Stand Britains, we have the advantage of the Ground,
The Enemies disorder'd.
Pallad.
Stand, stand and fight.
Arvir.
All Plagues pursue 'um, do they run already?
The Britains return and fight, and the Romans are beaten off; Bellarius, Palladore, and Arviragus follow them; Manent the King, and Ursaces, and Britains.
Cymb.
My Life's indebted to thy Valour. Speak,
What art thou? for I know thee not.
Ursa.
A Gentleman, and the Lover of the King.
Cymb.
Thou art brave, and well deserv'st a Monarch's Favour.
The Battel ended, see me in my Tent,
Where I'le load Honours on thee.
Exit King and Britains.
Ursa.
Fetters rather.
Did he but know 'twas I that kill'd Eugenia;
O dreadful Sound! But stay, there is a deed
Must yet be done.—I'me tardy.—Now for Vengeance.
Exit.
Enter Eugenia, Lucius, and Shattillion.
Lucius.
Inconstant Chance wavering, and Woman-like,
Smile once more on us.—Was ever day thus chang'd!
Those that within this hour ran from our Swords,
Like fearful Hares before the full-mouth'd Cry,
Now turn, pursue, and chace us from the Field.
Oh Devil Fate.
Shatt.
The old Man and his Sons fought like Devils,
There was no coming near 'um; they have pepper'd
All my Taper-Gallians, there's hardly one of 'em left
To give his Mistress an account of Valour.
Eugen.
This is that Devil Shattillion, now I know him,
The fatal Cause of all my Miseries.
Shatt.
They toss'd me up and down the Field like a Foot-ball,
I may thank my activity for my Life.
Shout within,
Lucius.
Hark, they pursue us,—and all is lost.
Away, Boy, from the Field, and save thy self;
Now Friends kill Friends, and there's no hope of safety.
Shatt.
Mine is secure, I've a Project for't.
Lucius.
O treacherous Fortune!
Exit.
Bellar.
Let us pursue you scatter'd Troops, where Lucius
Seeks safety by base flight;—when he is taken,
The day's our own, and haughty Rome must bow
To th' British Power.—Come Sons,—my dear Arviragus,
Thou hast shown thy self the Hero of the Battel.
Arvir.
I am not flesh'd enough; Come, follow, follow,
I will my self take Lucius.
Exeunt.
Enter Shattillion disguis'd like a Britain.
Shatt.
Let Roman Fools give up themselves to Bondage,
While I by Wit gain Freedom.
Thus habited like a Britain, have I pass'd
Through all their Troops,—unseen or unsuspected,
And now with happy speed design for Milford,
From thence to ship to Gallia,—where in safety
I'le laugh at this Contrivance, and with pleasure boast
Of my kind Fortune.
Enter Ursaces and Britains; Beaupre meeting him, Shattillion starts.
Ursa.
Disguises cannot save thee, I know thee, Devil,
By more than vulgar Signs.
Shatt.
The very Devil has not a blacker Fiend, that I
Would sooner shun, than thee; but come, thou
Know'st me, what's the Result on't?
Ursa.
Death and Damnation.
Shatt.
A kind of an odd Reward for a man of my Parts:
But I'me of a Religion, Sir, that tells me,
My Life's not in your power, if taken nobly.
Ursa.
Not in my power? Yes,
If Heaven swerve not from its awful Justice,
I'me sure I have. Think on Eugenia,
O Devil think on her! She that was once
The dear lov'd Genius of this happy Countrey;
The brightest beam of Light that grac'd the World,
Made by thee black as the Shades of Hell,
Where now she wanders in the Vale of Horror.
Remember her, and let thy Soul despair.
Shatt.
Ha! Is Eugenia dead then?
Ursa.
Dead? Why didst thou think I was so tame a Fool,
To let her live after her horrid Crime?
Couldst thou imagine I would quench my Thirst
At that vile Spring, where the sordid Bruit had trampl'd,
[Page 49]And turn'd the chrystal Current into Mud?
Or let the spotted Serpent sting agen,
That had already poyson'd me?
Shatt.
If thou hast kill'd her, thou art miserable
Above Mankind.
Ursa.
I am, and by thee made so.
Shatt.
She was innocent, rash man.
Ursa.
Hah!
Shatt.
Innocent, I swear, as Angels; chast as the Phaenix,
And was indeed the Phaenix of the World,
And never to be equall'd.
Ursa.
These are Lyes which more perplex my Soul,
Than thou that mak'st 'em, and Riddles shan't
Save your Life, Sir.
Shatt.
Now I dare fight with thee
With a full heart.—Thou rash, thou wretched Creature,
Thou hast kill'd the only best of all her kind,
Eclips'd a Planet Heaven in mercy gave,
To bless and beautifie the World.
Ursa.
Still Riddles:—Doubts to plague me; but I'le try
Whether in Death you'l have the gift of Lying.
Stand you apart.
To the Britains.
Shatt.
Come on, and summon all thy skill and vigor,
For I will meet thee, fell as the hungry Lyoness
In the wild Desart, roving for her prey.
Ursa.
I'me pleas'd to know, that we with equal rage
Do play our parts in this bold Scene of death,
Occasion'd by dishonouring a Princess:
That Crime will dam thy Soul when Life is lost,
Which thus I offer to Eugenia's Ghost.
Fight, Shatt. falls.
Shatt.
Thou hast perform'd thy word:
My warm Blood
Flows from my Heart, and my departing Soul
Swims on the surface of the purple Gore:
O too small recompence for Eugenia's wrongs,
That bless'd, that innocent Princess!
Ursa.
O Heaven!
Shatt.
Nay thou'lt wonder more anon: Know then rash
Credulous Fool, I did betray the Princess.
Ursa.
Betray? how betray? O speak on;
For thou art now a Prophet to my sence,
And all thy words are Oracles? How innocent?
And how was she betray'd?
Shatt.
I'le tell the Cause I hate thee, therefore observe me:
I did bely her Vertue, and by Cunning obtain'd
The knowledge of her Apartment and Person.
Ursa.
By Cunning say'st thou?—Break not yet my Brain;
[Page 50]Do not distract me till I have heard all:
Say how by Cunning.
Shatt.
Cunning that now I hope may chance to dam thee.
I got my self convey'd into her Chamber, and at dead
Of night, she innocently sleeping, took view o'th'
Hangings, Furniture and Pictures, and all which
When return'd to Gaul I told you.
Ursa.
Horrid and damn'd Impostor! But say further,
Speak on thy Soul, how didst thou get that Bracelet?
Shatt.
There as she slept I cut it from her Arm,
And viewing nearer, saw the Mole I spoke of.
Ursa.
And this is true, as thou hast of rest?
Shatt.
What e're I hope, rest or unrest, 'tis true. But Oh
My Soul is wandring to its unknown home,
My Blood's all Ice!
Dies.
Ursa.
Then am I damn'd more than the worst of Fiends:
Heav'n keep not now thy Thunderbolt in vain,
To shoot at Trees, or cleave the marble Rocks,
But dart it here; here on this wretched Head
Throw thy swift Bolt▪ and dash me to the Center;
Let Hell devour me quick, the Fiends dissect me,
Burn, cut me atomes.—O revenge, revenge
The innocent Eugenia! Here he stands
That caus'd her to be murder'd; dam him, dam him;
Bathe him in molten Glass;—let a Cabal of Furies
Meet and consult t'invent new Tortures for him,
And be his Pangs eternal. He comes, ye Fiends,
Swift as old Lucifer, when first he fell,
And with this stroak transports himself to Hell.
Offers to fall on his Sword.
The Britt. hold.
Capt.
That must not be while we stand tamely by.
Souldiers, he has confess'd he kill'd
The Princess; let's bear him to the King.
Death is too kind a punishment, he merits the worst
Of Tortures: O horrid Murderer, away with him!
Ursa.
Let me kneel before thee,
And thank thee for that Judgement: Thou art wise,
And 'tis most true that only Death is much too kind;
I deserve Pains greater than Tongue can utter,
Or barb'rous Policy invent.
Capt.
Who cou'd imagine so much Villany
Cou'd dwell with so much Courage?
Ursa.
And shall tame lazy Death be all my Torture?
No, I have yet more Conscience than to hope it.
Poysons and Flames,
Racks, burning Iron, and flaming Lead,
Hot Pincers, Daggers, suffocating Water,
All, all are nothing, I will my self find greater:
[Page 51]And as in Lacedemon, the greatest Villains
Were by the State made Judges of all Criminals,
Because they best knew how to weigh and punish;
So I that know my self, my self will doom,
By Tortures here out-pain my Hell to come.—
Exeunt.
SCENE III. Palace backward.
Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus, Silvio, Lucius and Eugenia, as Prisoners, Guards, and Attendants.
Cymb.
NOble old Man, and you most worthy pair,
That Heav'n has made preserver of my Honour,
Let me embrace you: Yet is there a Fourth,
That in my tide of Thanks deserves large share.
He that bestrid me, gasping on the ground,
And like stern Ajax, with his shining Buckler,
Secur'd my Life from Storms of Roman Fury,
Where is he, that I may unclew my grateful Heart,
To pay the Debts I owe him?
Bellar.
Since his last Sally he has not been seen,
Though we have search'd among the Dead and Living,
And much I fear he's lost.
Cymb.
A Kingdom were too small to buy his Virtue.
Lucius.
Now great Cymbeline,
I conjure thee by thy Fortune, grant me a Request:
Let my poor Boy be ransom'd;—never Master had
A Page so kind, so dutious, diligent,
So modestly affected to his Master,—nor
So unwearied in his Service.—Let his Vertue joyn
With my Request, which I'le presume your Majesty
Will soon find in him. He is of this Countrey,
And has done no Britain harm, tho' he has
Serv'd a Roman.—Save but him, Sir,
And spare no Life besides.
Cymb.
Let me see his Face. Ha, what strange Surprize
Is this! I have seen him somewhere, methinks
His Features are familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast look'd thy self into my Favour, live.
Lucius.
[Page 52]I humbly thank your Majesty.
Pallad.
It must be the Boy Fidele, I'le speak to the King.
Enter Ursaces.
Cymb.
What, my Preserver?
Does he then live? You holy Powers, I thank ye:
Let me embrace thee, thou best, thou bravest man;
And that I may be grateful for thy service,
Ask what thou wilt on the King's word 'tis thine.
Ursa.
Had ever Fiend such mercy? Royal Sir,
Refer your bounty till you find my merit;
Know, I am that Ursaces whom you banish'd,
For yet you know not how much I deserve.
Cymb.
Ursaces! What miracle is this?
Eugen.
Oh Heaven!
Ursa.
He Sir? A Basilisk that wounds you to the Soul
With his contagious Aspect.—Remember Eugenia,
Your heav'nly Daughter:
Think Sir, O think upon her.
Cymb.
Ha! where is she?
Speak, speak: O doubt not but I think of her.
Ursa.
You do, you must, I know it.—Now then as the Angels
From glorious lucid Thrones, eternal Mansions,
Look down and see the damn'd wallow in horrour;
So without regret or pity look upon me,
A worser Fiend, worse damn'd, for worser Reasons:
I like a sacrilegious Thief broke open
Vertues best Temple, and from the shining Altar
Impiously stole the consecrated Vessel,
The Gods had treasur'd up for their own use.
Cymb.
My blood flows to my heart; say, dost thou mean
Her Life, her precious Life?
Ursa.
The best of Lives she lost, and by my Order.
Cymb.
Then art thou damn'd indeed.
Ursa.
Then am I damn'd indeed? O true Assertion!
And see I thus submit me to be tortur'd,
Thus fall at thy Slave's feet, and beg for justice.
Be dark, thou Sun,
And be ye lesser Lights extinguish'd all:
Be Nature sick, let Shades surround the World,
And Order cease, till my Eugenia, the fair, the best Eugenia,
Be in my horrid torturing Death reveng'd.
Eugen.
Shine brighter Sun,
And all ye happy Stars glimmer for joy,
At this unlook'd for Change. Oh my dear Husband!
Here is thy Wife, here is Eugenia;
Once more receive me as the [...] of Heaven.
Ursa.
[Page 53]Oh my Souls Joy! Canst thou e're pardon me?
Canst thou forget?
Eugen.
Heaven knows, with all my heart;
But let me beg you doubt my Faith no more.
Ursa.
If I do, may Heav'n forsake me ever,
And thou my better Genius cease to guide me.
Cymb.
His Love so blinded thee thou hast forgot me?
Dost thou not know thy Father?
Eugen.
O my Lord!
So thrive my Soul, as in my best of Duty
My heart is vow'd to you: Pray pardon me.
Cymb.
Let this declare I do.
Enter Pisanio, Clarinna.
Pisan.
Where, where's my Lord Ursaces? lead me to him.
Ursa.
Ha! His Eyes lost, and for my sake I fear:
Speak good old Friend, whose cruel deed was this?
Pisan.
'Twas Cloten's; but if you love me, do not pity me:
For this was I ordain'd, and well can bear it.
Where is the Princess? let me kiss her Hand.
Eugen.
Come not near me, Murderer:
Thou left'st me in the Desart, and gavest me Poyson.
Pisan.
Poyson? May then the swift Lightning blast me,
If the Box I gave you was not thought by me
Of precious value; I had it from the Queen.
Eugen.
Most like it did, for I was dead a while.
Bellar.
My Boys, there was our Errour.
Pisan.
My Pity swaying over your Command, my Lord,
I had no heart to kill her.
Ursa.
'Twas heav'nly Mercy;
Embraces him.
For hadst thou done it, O what Misery,
What Hells had I endur'd?
Pisan.
I left her to Heavens Mercy in a Desart,
Where after I found Cloten and Iachimo,
Dragging my Daughter with barbarous design,
In whose defence, bold Iachimo I slew,
And then lost my Eyes by Cloten's Cruelty;
But what befel him afterwards I know not.
Arvir.
Then let me end the Story, I kill'd him there.
Cymb.
Heaven forbid, brave Youth:
I would not thy good Deed should be rewarded
With a fatal Sentence; prithee deny't agen.
Arvir.
Sir, I spoke it, and I did it.
Cymb.
He was a Prince.
Arvir.
A most uncivil one.
Cymb.
Bind the Offendor, and take him from our presence.
Bellar.
[Page 54]Nay then stay Sir, hear me speak▪
First pay me for the breeding of your Sons.
Cymb.
Breeding my Sons?
Bellar.
Perhaps I am too bold: Thus bow my Knee then,
And e're I rise I will prefer these two;
Then spare not the old Man. Mighty Sir,
These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,
And think they are my Sons sprung from your loyns,
To you are debtors for their Beings.
Cymb.
Me?
Bellar.
To you Sir; you are their Parent,
Their Nurse Euriphele,
Whom I with Gold corrupted, stole these Children,
By which I thought my self reveng'd for Banishment:
But now they'r yours agen, and I must lose
Two of the best Companions in the World;
All blessing from the kind and bounteous Heav'ns,
Fall on their heads like Dew, for they are worthy
To inlay Heaven like Stars.
Cymb.
Welcome, welcome,
Ye Pillars of my Age.—O my Eugenia,
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdom!
Eugen.
No, my Lord,
I have got two Worlds by it.
Cymb.
I'le have no sadness now, this is a day of Joy;
Prisoners freed.
The Pris'ners shall be freed, our Enemies pardon'd,
The Streets of Ludds-Town shall with Bonfires shine,
And all the Temples smoak with Sacrifices.
Thou art my Brother, so I hold thee ever.
Embraces Bell.
Pallad.
Our Actions, Royal Sir, shall still declare,
We will not shame our Births.
Arvir.
Tho' bred up in a Cave,
Our Thoughts were high as Palaces, and our Souls
Soar'd still above our level: For our Valours,
Let 'em be try'd, and if we flinch in Battel,
Then let some Hero of the bloody Field
Defame and call us Slaves, not Sons to Cymbeline.
Cymb.
You are my Nerves, my Sinews, and my Age
Is firmer now than Youth. Valiant Ursaces,
Thou too art of our Blood, and by Eugenia
Claim'st a full part: But O beware of Jealousie,
That worst of Passions, cherish'd by the blood,
And nourish'd by destruction! For what's past,
Let it be all forgotten.—Love Eugenia;
The Gods have link'd your Destinies together,
Then now receive her from a Father's hand.
Ursa.
[Page 55]How like the Accent of some pitying God?
The King then spoke:
I swear you have outdone the Deities,
Giv'n me the brightest Jewel of Perfection.
O my fair Love! Was ever Joy like mine?
Did ever Raptures touch a Heart so nearly,
Or shoot with so much fierceness through the Soul?
The excess on't is so great, sure it will kill me.
Thus as some wounded Hero,
That where most danger was, press'd forward still,
At last his Life owes to Physicians skill:
So Love, the bless'd Physician of the Mind,
Heals all my Griefs, immortal Joys I find,
And Heaven on Earth, whilst my Eugenia's kind.
THE EPILOGUE.
OUr next new Play, if this Mode hold in vogue,
Shall be half Prologue, and half Epilogue.
The way to please you is easie if we knew't,
A Iigg, a Song, a Rhyme or two will do't,
When you'r i'th' vein: and sometimes a good Play
Strangely miscarries, and is thrown away▪
That this is such our Poet dares not think,
For what displeases you's a waste of Ink:
Besides this Play was writ nine years ago▪
And how Times alter, Ladies you best know;
Many then, fair and courted, I dare say,
Act hal [...] out of Fashion, as our Play.
Besides if you'd consider't well, you'd find,
Y have altered since ten thousand times, your mind;
And if your humours do so often vary,
These in our Comedy must need miscarry;
For as you change, each Poet moves his Pen,
They take from you the Characters of Men.
The Wit they write, the Valour, and the Love,
Are all but Copies, of what you approve▪
Our's follow'd the same Rule, but does confess,
The love and humour of that seasonless.
And every Artist knows that Copies fall,
For th' most part, short of their Original.
FINIS.