The treacherous brothers a tragedy, as it is acted by Their Majesty's servants at the Theatre-royal / written by George Powell.

The treacherous brothers a tragedy, as it is acted by Their Majesty's servants at the Theatre-royal / written by George Powell.

Table of contents

Title page

The Epistle Dedicatory To the Patentees, and Sharers of their Majesties Theatre.

THE Preface to the Reader.

Ad amicum in hujusce Tragoediae Authorem.

PROLOGUE.

§

The First ACT. SCENE. I. A Garden.

The Second ACT. SCENE. I.

The Third ACT.

SCENE I.

SCENE II.

SCENE IV.

SCENE. V. A Garden.

The Fourth ACT.

SCENE I.

SCENE II.

SCENE. III.

SCENE. IV. A Prison.

SCENE. V.

The Fifth ACT.

SCENE I. A Pallace.

SCENE II.

SCENE III. A Wood.

SCENE IV. The Scene Changes.

SCENE V.

EPILOGUE.

§

[Page]

THE Treacherous Brothers, A TRAGEDY: Acted by Their MAJESTIES SERVANTS, AT THE Theatre Royal,

WRITTEN By GEORGE POWELL.

Licensed and Entred according to Order.

LONDON, Printed for James Blackwell, at Bernards-Inn-Gate, Holbourn; and Sold by Randal Taylor near Stationers-Hall. 1690.

The Epistle Dedicatory
To the Patentees, and Sharers of their Majesties Theatre.

[Page]

[Page]

Gentlemen,

FOR Incouragement of this Address to you my worthy Friends, I am oblidg'd to acknowledge, that a worthless Fruit, like this, stands no less indebted to the Courteous Gardner, that lent the warm Bed to rear it, then to the indulgent Palates that were so favourably pleased to relish it. Your Favour therefore that admitted it to the Stage, and the kind pardoning Audience that received it there, divide my equal Gratitude. I confess indeed, if I durst, (for there was no good will wanting,) I had the same itch with the greater Brothers of the Quill, of committing this pubish't Bawble into some Noble, protecting Hands; had not a riseing check of Grace, call'd a Blush, withheld me. I consider'd, possibly the highest Quality may forgive the loss of two short hours at a poor homely Entertainment, much easier then publickly admitting so mean a Trifle, Dedicated and laid at the Feet of Honour. The first of the two Favours is but a generous Condescension e'en passant. But the prefixing a great Name in lasting Print, before so undeserving a piece of scrible, is a Concession on their side too low, and and an Ambition on mine too aspireing. And therefore though I durst be bold with it on a Theatre, and make 'em all my Patrons there, my Confidence, the Talent of the [...]ge, I wear not beyond my Dressing Room, and durst presume upon Quality no farther. To you therefore who were before kind to it, I now send it for Protection; and choose you Gentlemen, my Patrons, and on my word I know not where I cou'd have pick't out better, for to pride my self in the choice of your Protection, and give my Patrons their true Panegyrick. I must avow to the World, that if ever there were a true Mecaenas of Poetry, (at least in Modern Story,) that name properly and rightly belongs to none, Gentlemen, so much as your Selves; and to prove this just Honour no Complement, but your lawful due, (which indeed is more then the Laws of Dedication oblige me to,) if the Town wou'd allow me able to read, (as that they'll hardly do.) I'de venture to quote one stanza of Gondibert for my Justification, giving this Account of Poetry.

Oh! hireless Science, and of all, alone

The Liberal! meanly the rest each State

With Pension treats; but this depends on none;

Whose worth they reverently forbear to rate.

[Page] Now if the World has made so little Provision for the maintenance of the Muses, (as kind Davenants too true Oracle tells us,) I'm afraid upon due Examination, that little Bread they gather will be found almost all glean'd from a Theatre; one kind honest Actor, that frets and struts his hour upon the Stage (as the Immortal Shaksphear has it,) is possibly a greater Benefactor to the Muses, then the greatest Family of Grandees that run Pedigrees, and track Originals up from the Conquest.

The time has been when as old Ben ended his Grace with God bless me, and God bless Ralph, viz. the honest Drawer that drew him good Sack. So some Modern Authors with the same Equity, might full as Pathetically have furnish'd out one Article of their Prayers, (not forgetting the present Props of the Stage) with God bless Mohun, and God bless Hart, the good Actors that got 'em their good third Days, and consequently more substantial Patrons then the greatest gay Name, in the Frontispiece of the proudest Dedication. Poetry thrives so little now, that I much fear the famous Suckling himself was mistaken in his own Laureat; for there are those wou'd be glad to find that kind rich Alderman, his Appollo gave the Bays to, that out of all his heaped Coffers, wou'd either give or lend, to the fairest of the nine Mendicant Sisters.

No Gentlemen, the Pernassus bears no good Crop, but upon that part of it lying and scituate within your own Garden Walls; all the rest of it produces only that unprofitable growth, that 'tis scarce worth cultivating; all other Poetry (Dramatick only excepted,) turns to so little Account, that the Toyl's as hopeless as labouring for the Philosopher's Stone; the Undertaker is certain to get nothing by it, and if he's born to an Estate to bear his Expences in the Projection, his only comfort is, he shall not be undone by it. If therefore a few stragling Cions of Poetry now and then start up in the World, the Incouragement is so much your own, that they wholly root with you. And if the greatest Dons of Wit, that carry the highest merit with 'em, are in Honour oblig'd to this Confession; how much greater ought my Acknowledgments to be, who owe my Access to the Stage, meerly to your Act of Grace.

In turning this dowdy Brat therefore into the World, a like bound to the Midwife, and the Godfathers: Your generous administring kindness in handing it into light, and the no less generous Audience for standing Vouchers for it, I take this Opportunity of publishing my self,

Gentlemen,

Your most obliged, and most obedient Humble Servant, George Powell.

THE Preface to the Reader.

[Page]

THE time was, upon the uniting of the two Theatres, that the reviveing of the old stock of Plays, so ingrost the study of the House, that the Poets lay dorment; and a new Play cou'd hardly get admittance, amongst the more precious pieces of Antiquity, that then waited to walk the Stage: And since the World runs all upon Extremes, as you had such a Scarcity of new ones then; 'tis Iustice you shou'd have as great a glut of them now: for this reason, this little Prig makes bold to thrust in with the Crowd.

'Tis true, some of the Poets, the great Dramatick Professors, began to murmur, that such diminutive Interlopers as my self should be suffer'd, and cou'd scarce forbear railing at the Injustice of the Company, in indulging such inconsiderable Invaders of their Province, the Stage.

Now, I think, my Masters, 'tis a little hard, that those greater first-rate Wits, shou'd come with top and Top Gallant, and thunder their Broad sides amongst you, and a poor little Fan Fan should be denied giving the Town a small Pot-Gun.

Besides, they have more Cause to be pleased at the exposing of so witless a trifle as this, if 'twere no more than for a Foil to their own more exalted Sence; for Faith some of 'em need one.

After this Apology for their Favors; I am affraid, kind Reader, I shall find it a harder Task to Court yours; however, to make some Essay towards it; First I must tell you, that it if the Play wants Language, or any thing else, (or rather all things) to please you, nevertheless to take the modish way of Prefacing, and not undervalue my self: I assure you, (to the Credit of the Author be it spoken,) 'tis the best I ever writ; and By Gad, (as my Brother Bayes says,) I cou'd not have took more Pains about it, had I been to have had Six-score Pounds for it at a Venture: Besides, whatever Confidence I may be taxt with, to shew what respect I owe you, I resolved when I writ it to use a Conscience in persecuting you, and accordingly you'll find, I shall not tire my Reader with over much length; the Bookseller was in no danger of swelling the Play to Price two Shillings, and shall be thankful if he finds his Accounts in half the Summ.

[Page] So much for my Conscience, now for my Civility: Look ye good Friends, considering that greater Bodies move slow, and the other weightier, massier Sense, now in Rehearsal, and Study, cou'd not so easily be hammer'd into the Players Heads, nor got up fast enough; I resolv'd the Town showd not be so disoblig'd, as to have a whole Hillary-Term with never a new Play; and so I understudy'd, and jirckt up my little Whipster: This lighter toy, like a Dance between the Acts, in pure Complausance. I could instance several other Obligations of this kind, but not willing to insist too much upon Merit, for fear of running up into Supererrogation, I am content to end with subscribing my self

Your Humbe Servant, Geo. Powell.

Ad amicum in hujusce Tragoediae Authorem.

Gentlemen,

MY Friend, against my will, puts this Complement upon me, had he not been a particular Acquaintance, and a Brother-Actor, I shou'd have took it as an Affront; yet though he writ it, I dare swear neither you nor I think it; and so take it among ye.

Grande decus scenae, ludorum fama, Theatri

Gloria, jam lauro tempora cinge tua.

Tam benè Romano tinxisti verba lepore,

Tam densis Phaleris pagina quaeque nitet;

Ut spectatores, poterint fecisse Catones,

Et rigidos Curios, Fabriciosque graves;

Non te Cecropiae damnent Pandionis arces,

Nec rodant numeros Critica turma tuos,

Ergò age, non meritam dubites admittere famam;

Nec pigeat curae praemia ferre tuae.

Contemnas Rhoncos, nostrae & fastidia Romae,

Quae plusquàm nasos Rhinocerotis habet.

Ioannes Hodgson.

PROLOGUE.

[Page]

Writ by Mr. Mountfort,

Spoken by Mrs. Knight.

NEW Plays is still the Cry of the whole Town,

Therefore to day, young Powell gives you one;

The fellow never writ before this time,

And I am come to plead his Cause in Rhime;

You may be sure that writing is grown scarce,

When he sets up for Prose, and I for Verse;

Variety of Plays, like Women, all

Desire, and both, when had, grow dull:

Women and Plays are both uncertain too,

We cannot swear they'r sound, till try'd by you;

If a Play's bad, 'tis but three hours enduring,

But Women often cost you three months curing;

From an ill Play, each to the Tavern runs,

Cursing the Poet, and his memory drowns,

Drinking Damnation to him in six go downs.

Our Scribler don't at all you sharp Wits dread,

He writes as Bullies fight, not for Renown, but Bread;

Ive heard there goes a curse with Poetry,

Which many Authors know, call'd Poverty.

But as for Players,

They can no greater curse then being Players deserve,

For write or not write, we are sure to to starve;

You all are leaving us to serve the Nation,

Our men and we shall have a long Vacation;

One Plague by Fire this House hath undergone,

Let not another be by Famine shown;

Some for the Field in dismal Red prepare,

Others at Sea, engage in men of War,

Woe be to us the weaker Vessels here;

What will become of every likely Lass,

If Shipton's Prophecy should come to pass,

One man will never serve seven Women sure,

When Women can intrigue with half a score;

What shall we do, our falling Sex to prop,

The very day you march, we shut up shop.

Bills must be writ to let each Tenement,

We may find Lodgers, but they'll pay no Rent,

Be kind then to us, e're you go away,

Else we shall reap no Profit by this Play,

For Pyrat like, no Purchase, we've no pay.

§

Dramatis Personae.

KIng of Cyprus. Mr. Powell.

Meleander, Brother to the Queen. Mr. Allexander.

Ithocles in Love with Marcelia. Mr. Williams.

The Treacherous Brothers.

Menaphon. Mr. Mountfort.

Orgillus. Mr. Hodgson.

WOMEN.

Semanthe, Queen of Cyprus. Mrs. Bowtell.

Marcelia, Niece to the King. Mrs. Bracegirdle.

Statilia, Sister to Ithocles, disguised in Boys Cloaths, by the name of Lattinius in Love with Meleander. Mrs. Butler.

Armena, confident to Semanthe. Mrs Jourden.

Pages, Guards and Attendants.

[Page]

SCENE Cyprus.

The First ACT.
SCENE. I. A Garden.

[Page]

Enter Menaphon, and Orgillus.

Men.

O Orgillus! thon talk'st in vain of comfort;

To one so wretched and so Curs'd as I,

For my Complaints have forc'd the Rocks, the waters,

The very winds have sigh'd, & Brooks have murmur'd

Their kind Commiserations of my sorrow.

Org.

Despair not Menaphon, you are not wretched,

Unless your own Impatience makes you so.

Why may not she in time be won to love,

As well as other women? O my Brother!

Thou hast been bred in war, and dost not know,

The Subtilty, and Cunning of that Sex;

D'ye think because She has deny'd you once—

Men.

Once! one denyall! yes a hundred slights,

Repulses, Scorn, all her disdain can vent,

Have been my dayly, hourly persecution.

Org.

A hundred! is that all? were their name Legion,

A Legion may be conquer'd, fear it not,

For time can tame the Lion and the Tyger,

And with more ease a womans wandring fancy.

Men.

I but so long to hope, and be delay'd

Is worse then Death, to misery like mine

Org.

Perhaps your Sufferings may not long endure,

For womens minds Inconstant are and fickle,

Uncertain as the leaf blown with each wind,

And Flexible, as is the bladed Grass,

The'yl fly, but ev'ry step wish they were t'ane.

What they deny, they wish too were Snatch'd from 'em,

They'l fight, but allways wish to be overcome.

Men.

I but Semanthe is not one of these:

Org.

How know you that my Brother?

[Page]Men.

O too well!

For when this Tyrant Love first Seiz'd my heart,

When my tormented Soul cou'd hold no longer

I told her with a thousand sighs and tears,

The Secret which to keep wou'd have consum'd me.

With such a raging fire it flamed within.

I told her all the cause of my distress;

Yet she did not alone deny my suit,

But with a look of fury, and disdain,

She gave these words: Go wretch, below my Anger,

May thy Ingratitude to him that Lov'd thee,

That rais'd thee Monster as thou art, from nothing,

Dwell in thy mind till thou repent'st thy folly;

With that flew from me, leaving me alone.

My Soul all burning like a blazing Etua;

And since, If I but offer to approach her,

She turns from every word and ev'ry look,

That moves but for her pitty, as the Pestilence

Flew from my breath, and Bassalisks from my eyes.

O Orgillus, what canst thou now propose

What Remedy is left to save thy Brother?

Org.

What Remedy? Time, Patience, Opportunity;

The fiercest Torrents of a womans Passion,

Has both its Ebbs, and Flows, her tide of Hate

(Strong as it is, and bears down all before it)

May turn, and turn to Love; try her again:

You know the King, now Wars with the Sicillians;

And leaves the Queen, and Kingdom to your Care;

Cou'd any thing more favour your design?

Brother be ruled by me: you know this Garden,

Is ev'ry night her walk before she sleeps;

Here meet with her, and once more own your passion,

If she refuses you again forget her,

And leave the Scornfull Beauty to her self

Men.

Forget Semanthe! 'tis impossible!

Sooner the Glorious Sun shall turn its Course;

Motion and Nature their great work give o're,

And the Eternall Axis Rowle no more.

Enter Semanthe.

Org.

Brother no more, the Queen is coming this way,

Now if you ever hope to gain your wishes,

[Page] Be bold, and your undaunted Passion speak;

Mean while I will retire to yonder Grove,

That Secresy, and Silence may befriend you.

[Exit Org.]

Men.

Oh how I burn! when I behold that face.

Turn, turn Semanthe, Cruell woman turn.

Sem.

Bless me! what mournfull Sound was that?

Men.

Mournfull indeed:

And from the wretched'st man that sound was sent,

That ever sigh'd for Beauty, great as your's.

Sem.

This villain here! how my heart shakes to see him

[aside.

What mean you Menaphon?—

[to him

[...]en.

O I must speak;

Though Death with Torments, Tyrants ne're found out,

Stood ready for me, I must say I love you.

Sem.

As a Subject; and t'will become you.

Men.

O Gracious Princess, if that blessed form—

[kneels

E're harbour'd pity for a wretch distress [...]d;

Shew some to me, to me whom violent love,

Has tortur'd on the wrack of fruitless hope,

And anchor'd down my Soul in Seas of woe.

Sem.

I understand you not.

Men.

Then farewell Circumstance—

[rises

And since you are not pleas'd to understand me,

(Tho' I have oft discours'd this Subject to you)

But by a plain and easy way of speech,

All Superstitious reverence layd by,

I love you as a man, and as a man

I wou'd enjoy you; why d'ye start, and fly me?

I am no monster, and you'r but a woman,

A woman made to yield, and by example,

Told it is Lawfull; favours of this nature,

Are in our Age, no Miracles I'th greatest,

And therefore Madam—

[approaching her

Sem.

Villain, stand farther off; Ungratefull Monster.

A Crime, which Creatures wanting reason fly from.

Are all the Princely Bounties, Favours, Honours,

(Which with some prejudice to his own wisdom)

Thy Lord and Raiser has Confer'd upon thee,

In such a short time bury'd? has he made thee,

(From one obscure, allmost without name,)

The envy of great Fortunes? have I grac'd thee,

Beyond thy Rank, and entertain'd thee, as

A Friend, and not a servant? and is this,

[Page] This Insolent attempt upon my Honour,

The fair return of both our ventured favours.

Men.

Hear my excuse.

Sem.

The fall'n Angells may plead mercy,

And with as much assurance as thou, hope it.

This is not the first time,

Your treach'rous tongue has utter'd this wild outrage.

Think not I'le Longer bear your Insolence:

What Smiles, what friendships has my Lord showr'd on thee?

What a vast trust has he reposed in thee?

By leaving both his Kingdom and my self,

To thy protectian: Villain think on this;

And let it quench the Feavour in thy bloud.

Men.

All this I've done; and many a weary night,

Have call'd these thoughts to my most strict rememb'rance

Brought my soul up to honours bar and try'd

The Cause of love at Conscience high Tribunall:

But oh in vain, for now too late I find

There is no Medicine for a tortur'd mind,

But freedom from the torture it sustains.

Therefore Divinest Princess—

Sem.

Cease your Insolence,

Darst thou again with thy invenom'd breath,

After I had forbid thee, strive to tempt me,

To Act a deed, which my soul shakes to think on?

Know Traytor to reward this sawcy boldness,

I will not only paint thy barb'rous Guilt,

In its most hideous, black, Infernal form,

And to the Injur'd King present the Gorgon,

But rouse too my own Justice and Revenge,

Th' unquall'd Crime, with forfeit of thy Head.

[—offers to go.

Men.

Stay, stay, bright Angell, hear me but one word,

O! tho' my fault deserves a Punishment.

[Men. kneels & she returns.

Greater then his who stole Joves fire from Heav'n,

Be you Compassionate, and shew some mercy,

I must confess my fault unpardonable.

(But oh consider what the force of Love is.)

But yet indeed to own a love to you

Was too presumptuous, and I do repent it.

Sem.

Can it be hoped,

After a practise so abhorr'd as thine,

Repentance e're can find thee?

Men.

By your self,

[Page] By your bright self divinest Queen I swear:

And all those Powers that guard your Innocence,

Henceforth I never will in word or deed

Make Repetition of my Lawless Love.

'Tis not the fear of Death makes me sue thus,

But a loath'd detestation of my madness

That makes me wish to live to have your pardon,

Which Granted, (in your presence whom I've wrong'd,)

I'le let out that Ranck bloud which caus'd my folly.

Sem.

No, rise, rise Menaphon, you have my pardon,

And shall my favour if you keep your Oath.

But if you do not, by the Pow'rs that rule us,

By all the fury of an injur'd Princess,

I'le lay aside all thoughts of gentle pitty.

And when thy life shall answer thy black deed,

Stand by with pleasure to behold thee bleed—

[Ex. Sem.

Manet Men.

Men.

She's Gone, for ever gone, and I am lost;

Ne're speak of Love on forfeit of my life.

O why was I pick'd out from all Mankind,

To fix my Love on so much scorn and beauty?

And why since fate had destin'd me to love her,

Should any other man in peace possess her?

No, if he do, may fortune still pursue me,

With all her utmost and severest malice,

O 'twould be rare revenge for my scorn'd passion,

To throw a burning brand in the Kings breast,

And make his Soul feel tortures great as mine.

Work stronger in my heart thou dear revenge,

For thou art now all Musick to my sense.

Enter Orgillus.

Whose there! My Brother Orgillus.

Org.

The same; What have you spoke to her?

Men.

Yes, I have sued,

Kneel'd, wept, and begg'd; but tears and vows and words,

Move her no more then Summer winds a Rock.

She threat'ned to discover to the King,

All that I ever mention'd of my love;

Which had she done, I know my Orgillus,

My Life must needs have been the fatall forfiet,

[Page] Which to prevent, I've bound my self by Oath,

Never to mention my rash love again:

Org.

And will you keep that Oath?

Men.

By Heav'n I will;

But yet I will not loose her unreveng'd.

This King that detains all my happyness,

Shall live in Torments great as I endure;

Curss'd Jealousy, that Poys'ner of Content,

Shall put an end to all his quiet here,

And O take heed Semanthe, for the Plot,

The fatall Plot that's working in my Brain,

Aims at no less a Price for my Scorn'd love

Then her too haughty life who has refus'd me.

Org.

Is all your violent love then come to this?

Have you so soon forgot Semanthes beauty?

Is that bright Angell you so late admir'd,

Become so very low in your esteem,

That you can talk of Aiming at her life?

Men.

O Orgillus! didst thou but know as I do,

The Pangs, the Tortures of a slighted love,

Thou woud'st not wonder at this sudden Change.

For when ill treated, it turns all to hate,

And the then darling of our Soul's revenge.

Enter Nearchus.

How now, the news with you?

Nea.

Lord Ithocles is just arriv'd at Court,

And brings the news of the Kings victory,

Men.

How victory! Oh bane to all my hopes!

Had he but brought news of his Funerall,

[aside.

This scornfull beauty then perhaps might yeild

Org.

Lord Ithocles the Herauld of his Tryumphs?

Is he the Harbinger? Curse of the name—

Nea.

Yes my good Lord, he is.

[Exit Nea.

Men.

Nearchus leave us—

Now Brother Orgillus,

I do remember the Kings wedding day,

Was Celebrated with all Martiall Pastimes, with Tilts

and Tournaments at the Solemnity.

Where Ithocles this Fav'rite of the Kings

Got an Immortall fame to your dishonour.

Org.

Dishonour, yes, and such dishonour too,

Sprung from a cause so weak, that th'asham'd world,

[Page] Repeats it with a blush; because this upstart,

In that days Tournament, had the kind luck

Only to Guide a Fortunate Launce against me,

A little to my disadvantage. Chance,

Meer Chance, the sport of Fortune; for Heav'n knows,

For years I've worn the Glory of the Lifts,

And ne're was foyl'd before; but cause Semanthe,

Was pleas'd to give the Triumph of the day,

The Golden Lot of that one single chance.

To Ithocles, the fond Uxorious King,

To please his Queen, must sacrifice his Soldier.

The vain applause of this new-made Favourite,

Seduced his Royall reason to that poor

Ingratitude, that the exalted Ithocles,

Was mounted in my honours, to Command,

That very Army which I've led so often,

To Victory for this forgetfull King.

Men.

Forgetfull! yes.

Remembrance is a stranger to ingratitude:

Org.

Had he perform'd some mighty feat in War

To out-strip me in renown, subdued some Kingdom,

Which my weak sword had lost, then 't had been Justice,

T'o're-leap my head, and seize my forfeit Lawrells.

But for a worthless prize, a sportive Trophey,

For foyling me in a poor idle Tournament.

To have my blasted Glories all torn from me,

Degraded, lost, stript naked, to adorn

This Insolent rifler with my borrow'd Plumes,

Is canker to my Soul, and ev'ry vein,

Run poyson at the thought.

Men.

O just Resentments,

And sure my brother can't forget that time.

Org.

Forget it Menaphon! Impossible.

By Heav'n it grates my very Soul to think on't.

O I have worn him still within my mind,

And wanted but an Opportunity,

To pluck this growing Phaeton from his Glory.

Men.

Now is the time, O Orgillus! my brain,

Is full of Glorious thoughts for our revenge.

Methinks I have already in my view,

A Mapp of all the Mischiefs I intend,

To rid my thoughts of this proud scornfull beauty,

And thee of Ithocles, the Man thou hatest.

[Page] Wilt thou be faithfull to me?

Org.

Can you doubt it,

When you conspire the fall of Ithocles?

What is it I would fail t'assist you in?

The Mighty Conqueror of the Universe,

Ran not more Hazard's in his years of War,

Then I wou'd do to take Revenge on him.

Men.

Come to my breast, My Brother and my friend.

Was ever change like mine? Some moments since,

My Soul was all a-burning fire of Love,

But that hot Love is in an instant gone,

And all my thoughts are now Revenge alone.

[Ex. Om.

The Scene Changes to the Pallace.

Enter Ithocles meeting Marcelia.

Mar.

Wellcome my Lord, my life, my Ithocles,

Wellcome, O wellcome, from the hands of war,

Itho.

O my Marcelia, do I once more view thee!

Once more behold those dear, those charming eyes?

By Heav'n, my Love, the King with all his Conquests,

Cannot have half the Joy, thy presence gives me.

Mar.

My dearest Ithocles, my best lov'd Lord,

O what a long and tedious Separation,

Has this war made between us! but for all

The fears I've felt, the many tears I've shed,

To think upon the many dangers you were in,

This happy minute makes a full amends.

Itho.

Speak on, and bless my ears with the dear Sound

Of that Celestiall voice, Musique more sweet,

Then is the Murmur of a slow pac'd Brook,

When 'tis with thousand little Pebbles crost.

Or the Winds Pratling 'mongst the wanton Leafs.

Mar.

But oh my Lord, when the heat of fight,

Your Sword imbrued in bloud, and your fierce mind,

Employ'd about the bus'ness of the War,

Then your Marcelia was not thought upon.

Itho.

My unkind dear why dost thou wrong me so?

By Heav'n the thoughts of thee inspir'd my Courage,

And when I look'd upon the bold Sicillians,

And knew 'twas they detain'd me from thy Arms,

I flew more fierce, then Thunder from a Cloud.

[Page] And beat down all that did oppose my fury;

Not think of thee, why thou wert all my thoughts,

And ev'ry dream still shew'd me my Marcelia,

And when the King wou'd to divert his cares,

With Feasts and Revells pass away the time,

I have retir'd alone into my Tent,

And bless'd my self with thinking on Marcelia.

Mar.

And will you ever Love thus?

Itho.

When I do not,

The Flouds shall run back to their Springs again.

The Woolf shall fly and fear the silly Lamb.

But my best life, when shall we Crown our Joys?

When will the dear the happy minute come,

That Marriage must for ever make thee mine?

What tho' the Cruel hand of War did part us?

Now that is past, let us deferr no longer,

But make me bless'd above the rest of Men.

Mar.

My Lord, you know the King's consent is wanting,

And tho' I do, and will for ever love you,

I dare not Wed without his free Permission,

Since he has both a King and Uncles Power;

But more of that my Lord when he returns.

My duty calls me to attend the Queen,

And I dare stay no longer. O my Lord!

I had a thousand, thousand things to tell you,

When next we meet, (for we shall meet again,)

I will Command some happy longer minute,

And then compleat kind loves unfinish'd murmurs.

Itho.

My better self, after so long an absence,

You may with safety grant one happiness;

A kiss from those fair Lips wou'd be no sin,

Good Night my Love, thou dearest, best of women,

The thoughts of thy bright Charms wou'd turn me mad,

But that I live in hopes I shall posses'em,

Thy beauteous Image fleets before my Eyes,

And shews the wond'rous Heav'n I so much prize.

[Exeunt.

The End of the First Act.

The Second ACT.
SCENE. I.

[Page]

Enter Menaphon and Orgillus.

Men.

HE Comes, my Brother Cyprus Monarch comes,

Wrap'd up with Joy for his success i'th' War,

To meet a Fate, far worse then those Sicillians,

Whom his Victorious Arm has Lodg'd in Graves.

For we have not alone Conspired his fall,

But what will add more pleasure to revenge,

His Soul for that short time he lives on Earth,

Shall feel worse Torments then the damn'd endure,

O what a Scene have we in one night laid,

To ruine, both a King, a Queen, and Fav'rite.

Org.

Brother you yet forget the greatest Point,

The Plot we've laid, we can't perform alone.

But by the help of some that's near the Queen,

We may with ease Accomplish our design,

Armena,

Confident to fair Semanthe,

I once did make some shew of kindness to,

And till the Fruit I tasted, lov'd the Tree;

And tho' my passion does apace decline,

To further our design, I'le yet love on,

At least pretend I do, she, she shall aid us;

I know for the past pleasures we have had,

And for those many more she hopes t'enjoy,

She'l be assisting to what e're I ask

Men.

But Orgillus, will she be faithfull to us▪

Org.

That is indeed against her Sexes nature,

But if she's secret till we've workt our ends,

A bowl of Poison stops her tongue with ease.

Men.

O thou art most Ingenions at contrivance,

By Heav'n I am all Extasy to think,

With what a brave Revenge I pay her scorn.

[Page] But Orgillus our Vengeance stops not there,

The Scene of blood, will yet far higher grow,

For when the Hot, the fiery Meleander,

(The Brother to this scornfull piece of Beauty)

Shall from the King hear of his Sisters shame;

I know his boyling bloud will rise so high,

That his wild rage will be his own undoing.

Then, then my Brother, when the Royal Line,

Is by the King's fierce Jealousy destroy'd,

Who then remains to take the Crown but me,

Ambition and Revenge have fired my Soul,

And I'm Impatient till the work is done.

Org.

Brother be Temperate, for rashness often,

Spoils those designs that have with care been laid;

And roots up their Foundations—See Armena:

Now smooth-fac'd flattery assist my Cause

And dear dissimulation stand my Friend,

Retire my Menaphon, it is not fit,

You should be seen till I have wrought her to us.

Men.

I go, and may success attend thy purpose—

[Ex. Men.

Enter Armena.

Org.

Madam you're grown a perfect stranger to me,

There was a time when it was otherwise.

Arm.

There was indeed, but now that time is past:

You did obtain my easy Love too soon,

And scorn the prize which was so quickly won,

Now other beauties do possess that heart,

Which once I thought my own, but O fond fool,

Why did my vanity extend so far,

To think that I had Charms enough to keep

One of that Sex which ne're were constant yet?

Org.

Armena, I confess I've been unkind

But oh it was not without wond'rous reason:

Arm.

Did I e're give you cause, No Orgillus,

The tender Mother of her sucking Infant,

Was never half fo fond, as I of thee.

I must confess indeed I was below ye,

But sure my Love might make amends for that.

What cause then coud'st thou find so soon to slight me?

Org.

O my best life, think not 'twas want of love,

No my Armenia I so truly love thee,

[Page] That to thee I'le unclasp my burthen'd Soul,

Empty the store-house of my thoughts and heart,

Make my self poor of Secrets, will not leave,

One thought untold that dwells within my breast.

Arm.

What e're it be my Lord that does disturb you,

O Let me know't, that I may bear a part.

Org.

Thou shalt my Love, but oh take heed Armena!

Be very Cautious, and keep close the secret.

For 'tis so great, my life relies upon't.

Arm.

Can Orgillus then doubt me, Oh unkind,

That very word Confirms you do not love.

Org.

Pardon me dearest, I'le distrust no more.

Know then, the King, the Queen, and Ithocles,

Did all conspire my Ruine, and disgrace,

I once was favour'd, and belov'd at Court,

I was the darling of the King and People;

But when the King was wedded to Semanthe,

All that great love which he before had shewn me,

He took away at once from Orgillus,

And streight bestow'd it on Semanthe's Brother:

This I forgave, and thought it was my duty,

To resign place to'th Brother of my Queen,

But Oh a worse disgrace he threw upon me,

For Ithocles, this upstart Favourite,

Crept into the opinion of the Queen,

And by her mediation to the King,

Got from me all the Offices I bore, and gave 'em all to him.

This, this Armenia, hangs upon my Soul,

More heavy far then lies the Load on Atlas.

But didst thou Love, didst thou but truly Love,

I yet might find a way to crown my peace.

Arm.

O name it Orgillus! and if I fail,

T'assist in ought that may produce thy quiet,

May I ne're taste the Joys that are on Earth,

Nor the Immortal pleasures dwell in Heav'n.

Org.

Thou only Miracle of woman kind

How cou'd I merit so much wond'rous Goodness?

Know then Armena to revenge my wrongs,

I have design'd the death o'th King and Queen.

But cannot do't without thy kind assistance.

Arm.

How Orgillus!

Org.

What d'ye start Armena?

Nay then I have deliver'd up my life

[Page] To one that has determin'd to betray me.

Arm.

Indeed my Lord this is the only thing,

I shou'd i'th least have scrupled to have done.

But yet to shew how well, how true I love,

I'le strive in this to serve my Orgillus.

Org.

O let me take thee Closer to my heart,

My dearest Saint, my life, my Soul, my heav'n.

Arm.

I must Confess I could not easily

Embarque in a design of so much horrour;

But O my Lord you have receiv'd indignities,

Disgrace so infamous, and wrongs so Lowd,

Enough to shake a Saint, wrongs of that weight

That I have wonder'd you cou'd bear and Love:

Nay, but to think what crying Injuries.

What vile injustice the ingratitude,

Of a false Court has heap'd on my dear Lord,

Has sometimes Rowz'd that Gall, that Just resentment,

Even in poor, poor Armena, that I've wish'd,

A Masculine Nerve in this female Arm,

Able to weild a Sword in your hard cause,

And be my dearest injur'd Love's Avenger.

Org.

My Beauteous Champion, my Lovely Heroine,

In what a mighty Sum shall I be bound:

Arm.

I must be gone, the Queen will streight expect me,

But oh my Orgillus with thee I leave

My Heart, which shall be ever faithfull to thee:

And tho' the world my fault will disapprove,

I'de venture more to serve the man I love.

[Exit Arm.

Manet Orgillus.

Org.

Poor Loving fool, with how much ease thou'rt caught,

That man that wou'd Successfull be in mischief,

Must by one means, or other, hook in woman;

Mischief's they'r study, mischief is their Trade,

And sure t'was for that only they were made.

For when a woman once in mischief Joyns,

She's sure to gain whatever she designs.

Enter Menaphon.

Now Brother Tryumph, things exceed our wishes;

I've wrought Armenia up to such a height,

[Page] Sh'as vow'd to second us in our Revenge.

Men.

'Tis well, but let us hast to meet the King.

Hark

Trumpets Drums, and Shouts afar off.

Those Shouts inform us he is near the City;

And if our Plot goes right, near to his Grave.

Again! Good Heav'n!

[Shouts nearer

With how much Joy they wellcome him to Death.

Come Orgillus, let us go meet this man

Who Swell'd with Conquest comes with Tryumph on.

Trumpets and Drums on one side.

On the Other, Violins, Flutes, and other Musick.

Enter on one side, the King, Meleander, Lattimus, Captains, & Guards.

On the other. The Queen, Ithocles, Marcelia, Menaphon, Orgillus and Armena attend.

The King and Semanthe meet and Embrace.

King.

O my Semanthe take me to thy breast,

And let me Grow for ever in thy Arms.

By Heav'n my Joys are much too great to bear,

Shou'd I gaze longer on this Charming fair,

Such killing brightness from her eyes she'd cast,

I shou'd not have the power to stand before 'em.

Sem.

My Lord, my life, O how shall I express

My wonderous Bliss, to see you safe return'd▪

I swear I think the Joys of Heaven too poor

To put in ballance with this one bless'd hour.

King.

My dear, dear happyness, my all I prize;

I swear my Lords; and O bear witness for me,

You mighty Powers that have in war preserv'd me

I Joy not half so much in all my Conquests,

As I do now in this dear happy minute,

Clasping Semanthe in my Longing Arms.

[Whilst the King goes and Salutes Marcelia

[Meleander comes towards the Queen

Sem.

O wellcome Brother, wellcome Meleander,

From all the dreadfull hazards of the war,

Wellcome above the world next my Lov'd Lord.

[presents Lattimus.

Mele.

I thank you Royall Sister, and I beg

Your favour for this youth, my lifes preserver.

[Page] [Lattinius Kneels, and kisses the Queens hand.

Itho.

The more I look upon that Lovely youth,

The more I see of poor Statilia in him,

My Sister who before this war fled from me,

[aside

Whither I know not, nor for what strange Cause:

Men.

Health and Success attend your Majesty,

[Kneeling.]

May all the Glories that your Arms have won,

Be doubled on you, and your Conqu'ring Sword

Be ever thus Successful 'gainst your foes.

King.

Rise Menaphon, my true, my faithfull freind,

O what return is in my power sufficient,

To recompence thee for thy wonderous care,

Of my Semanthe and my Kingdoms safety.

I swear cou'd I bestow a Crown upon thee,

'Twould be too little to requite thy merits.

Men.

What I have done, was nothing but my duty,

And wou'd do more, if more were in my power,

To serve my Royall Lord.

King.

I know thou wou'dst. I know thy honesty,

To be as great as ever dwelt in man.

And know besides, that shou'd I spend my Life

In thanks to Heav'n for making me so bless'd,

With Loyall Subjects, faithful valiant Warriours,

But above all with my Semanthes Love,

'Twould be too little. O my brightest Star!

Let me again infold the next my heart.

Thus breathe my Soul into thy throbbing bosome,

I cou'd grow mad with my excese of bliss,

And end my Life this moment in thy arms.

Men.

How soon this mighty Scene of love will vanish,

When once he finds my Poyson working in him.

[aside

Itho.

My Royall Lord, since you're so bless'd by fate▪

And Heav'n has given you all you can desire,

Let me implore who want your Royall favour,

Your kind Consent to make your vassall happy.

King.

O Ithocles! if ought is in my power

To recompence thy Loyallty and Courage,

Be quick and let me know how I may serve thee.

Itho.

Great Sir, upon my knees I beg forgiveness.

That I presume to ask so great a gift.

[Page] But love Reigns strongly in my tortur'd breast,

And tho' I'me loved, by her my Soul most Covets.

'Tis your Consent alone can make me happy.

Since 'tis Marcelia Sir for whom I sue.

Mele

Ha! for Marcelia Lord thou suest in vain.

For tho' I yet ne're own'd my Love to her,

I've Long been her Adorer,

And have the Kings Consent to make her mine.

Latt.

Then I am Lost—

[Aside

King.

'Tis true brave Ithocles.

Before I knew thy Love, I'de given my promise.

And never can consent she shall be thine,

Whilst one so pow'rfull stands in Competition.

Mar.

O Sir, upon my knees let me intreat you.

Force not my Inclinations, 'tis most true,

That I have given my heart to Ithocles,

And never can consent to love another.

Meleander is too noble sure to seek.

The love of one that must deny his passion.

Mele.

Why Cruell fair? am I so far unworthy?

That you should scorn me thus to please a Rivall,

He cannot more then I adore Marcelia,

Nor Venture more to shew how much he loves.

I have the King's Consent—

Itho.

But I Marcelia's.

Mar.

And when I e're consent to love another,

Heav'n shut your bright gates against me, banish me,

From the bless'd Realms of your Immortal day.

May I—

King.

No more thou Cheap Ignoble fool,

That durst to own a Love without my knowledge;

To you my Lord I ever shew'd such kindness—

[to Itho.

As might have kept you from so base an Act,

To Court thus privately a Niece of mine,

Forget her, and I'le own thee still my Friend.

Persist in it, and thy Life answers for it.

Itho.

Forget her! No, if I must lose Marcelia,

Death is the kindest thing you can bestow,

And I wou'd now most willingly embrace it,

Since I must never hope t'obtain my Love.

For you, my Lord, it shews most base in you

[to Mele.

To offer to invade Anothers right.

Our hearts, our Souls, are join'd by Solemn Contract,

[Page] And tho' the King's Consent on my side's wanting,

Her Constant heart is never to be Chang'd.

Therefore I know your Courtship will be vain.

Latt.

Pray Heav'n it be—

[Aside

King.

Well Sir, leave that to time.

But now to shew how much thy vanity;

And thy unlook'd for suit, has mov'd thy King,

As you respect my favour I command you,

Never make mention of thy impious love,

[to Itho.

For if thou dost, by the great victory

My arms have gain'd over the bold Suillians,

Thou shallt no more behold the face of day,

But in a Dungeon dark as your loves were,

I'le make thee end the remnant of thy days.

Sem.

My Gracious Lord, let me intreat this mercy,

To Calm your rage 'gainst the unhappy Ithocles,

Consider love's the Occasion of his Crime,

Whose power alass your Royall self have felt,

And know 'tis Irresistable.

King.

O pardon me, thou Mirrour of thy Sex,

That I bestow one minute from thy arms:

But shall Semanthes Brother plead in vain,

He who feels flames as great as Ithocles,

It must not be; by Heav'n my love it must not:

Conduct Marcelia straight to her Apartment,

[to Armena.

And let none visit her without my Order.

[Exit Marcelia weeping with Armena.

Come my Semanthe, after all the Hazards

That do attend on war, the happyness

Of thy bless'd presence, makes me feel new life:

On to the Temple, where when we have given,

Our thanks to the great Powers that have preserv'd us.

Impatiently I'le wait the approach of night.

Then wrap'd in loves Immortall Paradice,

I'le revell in unutterable Bliss:

[Exit Omnes.

Praetor Itholes.

Itho.

Strike home dear Thunder, end my ling'ring pains:

Did ever Lover feel my Pangs and live?

Never was man surrounded with my Glory.

Th' intire possessor of the Constant love,

[Page] Of one so Beauteous, so divinely fair,

And yet am doom'd to famish in despair,

So the poor naked Slave diggs in the mine,

And sees the Glittering Ore around him shine,

But does with hopeless eyes that wealth behold,

Wretched and starv'd, amidst a mine of Gold.

[Exit.

The End of the Second Act.

The Third ACT.

SCENE I.

Meleander discover'd in's Night-Gown.

Mele.

NIght Clad in black, mourns for the loss of day,

And hides the Silver spangles of the Sky,

That not a spark is left to light the world,

Whilst quiet sleep the Nourisher of life,

Takes full possession on mortality.

All Creatures take their rest in soft repose,

No Spirit moves upon the breast of Earth,

But howling Dogs, night-Crows, and Screeching Owles,

Despairing Lovers, and Pale Meager Ghosts.

Enter Lattinius.

Lattinius.

here! why dost thou break thy rest?

This is an hour, wretches shou'd only wake.

Why weeps my pretty Boy?

Latt.

To see your Sorrow,

And think it is not in my Power to help you:

For by those Sacred Guardians over us,

I cannot think that dang'rous Enterprize,

I wou'd refuse to purchase your content.

Mele.

Alas! my sufferings are past thy redress,

[Page] But yet I thank thee for thy care and Love,

I doat on one, colder then Alpine Snow.

One that would rather dye to please my Rivall,

Then live the Empress of the World with me.

Is there a cure for this? O there is none;

For were there any pittying, God above

Touch'd with Commiseration of my grief,

And shou'd descend to plead in my behalf,

By Heav'n I think she wou'd with scorn receive him,

Stand the Temptation of a Golden show'r,

And Jove himself in all his shapes unalter'd.

Latt.

Might I without offence declare my thoughts,

I'de have you cast your eyes on other beauties,

Search natures Store, and find some noble'r choice,

T'adorn your Nuptial bed.

Mel.

O if I cou'd,

Embrace thy Counsell I were truly happy;

But know I love, and dye for that dear Charmer,

And Cruell as she is, must still persist.

Another Choice! No 'tis impossible:

The rest of that fair Compar'd with her,

Wou'd seem like drossy mettalls to pure Gold.

Latt.

O dismal sound! in all this mighty Transport▪

I find but little hopes for poor Statillia.

[Aside.

But yet my Lord—

Mel.

O talk no more Lattinius,

Unless thy words are praises of her beauty.

Describe each grace of the Divine Marcelia,

Let every thing thou utter'st sound her name,

And I will sit and listen to thy Musick,

As sweet as the Melodious Quires of Heav'n,

Or sure Salvation to departing Souls.

Latt.

Why should it be so sweet to hear the name,

Of one whose Pride is to be your Tormentor,

Who is the Cause of all your sighs, Marcelia?

Who is't that makes you curse your fate? Marcelia;

Who is it that unmans you but Marcelia?

Who is't that pays your constant love with scorn?

Who is't that doats on Ithocles, your Rivall?

Marcelia still, whose very name is Musick,

Sweeter then the Melodious quires of Heav'n,

Marcelia is the cause—

Mel.

No more I charge you.

[Page] For your Officious love grows troublesome,

Away, begone, and leave me to my thoughts.

Still art thou here?

Latt.

Alas! I cannot leave you:

Upon my knees I beg if you e're lov'd,

Forgive my forward Zeal, and let me serve you.

I'le to this Cruell woman, tell her all:

Describe each Pang that tears your Love-sick heart,

Count o're the hours you wast in sad Complaints;

If she was nurs'd by any thing but Tygers,

I doubt not but to move Compassion in her.

Try me my Lord—

Mel.

Alas! 'twill be in vain.

She's Colder then the North, Impenitrable

As Rocks of Adamant, and scarce will hear

A message sent from me.

Latt.

Fear not my Lord.

Mel

O I have wondrous reason.

But since I find thou wou'dst fain do me service,

For once I will Imploy thee; tell her then,

If Possible, each sigh thou'st heard me utter;

How much above the world I prize her Love;

Tell her what dangers I wou'd undertake,

To Gain one smile from her: wilt thou do this?

Latt.

Indeed my Lord I will.

Mel.

My better self,

But see the morning-Star breaks from the East,

To tell the world her great Eye is awak'd,

To take his Journey to the western Vales.

And now the Court begins to rise with him,

Go to her then my faithfull dear Lattinius,

Lay if thou canst my Dying Groans before her,

And Bath her feet with tears to move her Soul.

Latt

I will do all that lies within my Power.

Mel.

Farewell my Pretty Boy, and some kind Angell,

Instruct thee with the means to gain her Pitty,

[Exit Mele.

Latt.

O misery! was ever fate like mine!

To Languish for the love of that dear man,

Whose heart alass is Conquer'd by another?

The rest—

Of my more prosperous Sex compared with me,

[Page] Are Goddesses, in Glitt'ring Chariots ride

And make their Lovers vassalls to their Pride,

But I, poor I, seek mine, and am deny'd.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Menaphon and Orgillus.

Men.

Now Brother does the fatall time draw on,

That must or give me Death, or full revenge,

For all the Scorn, and slights were thrown on me,

By that Proud, haughty, and disdainfull Beauty.

This hour shall put an end to all her quiet,

For I will work the King to that degree

Of Rage, and Jealousy, that if his Soul

Can harbour any sence of those great wrongs,

As he most Certain shall believe is done him,

I know Immediate Death must be her Lot,

And sure destruction to the man you hate.

Org.

O that the wish'd for deed were once effected,

That I might see this Rivall to my Glory,

Fix'd in a Dungeon, or his hated Soul,

Sent to the place, where I cou'd wish it Hell.

Men.

Doubt not my Brother, but that time's at hand,

Look on the Liquor this small Glass Contains,

Infuse three drops of it, i'th wine he drinks,

So many hours his Sences will be shut,

And Lay him in the Leaden hand of sleep,

Which when perform'd, we may with as much ease,

Work our designs on him, as 'tis to think it.

Org.

By Heav'n thy Plot deserves Eternall Fame:

But Brother near as we can guess the hour,

Let it be when the Queen prepares for Supper.

Armena at that time by Instructions,

Shall give Semanthe the same sleeping Draught.

Men.

Haste then my Brother, tell her our design,

Whilst I infect the King with Jealousy,

He comes this way; retire, leave me alone,

And doubt not but we shall have wish'd success:

Org.

Farewell.

And in each path may Fortune be your Guide.

[Ex. Org.

[Page] Enter King, Guards, and Attendants.

King.

How now my Lord? possess'd with serious thoughts:

Men.

I'm thinking Sir, what 'tis to wrong a King,

And in what pain that honest man must live,

That sees him wrong'd, and dares not tell him on't.

King.

I think that man who knows his Prince abus'd,

And yet conceals it from him most disloyall,

For sure it is a Crime unpardonable,

To think a wrong 'gainst an Annoynted head.

Men.

But Sir, when those that do it are in Power,

And a poor shrub is all that can accuse 'em,

He'd hardly gain belief of what h'as seen,

And death must pay the honest fool his wages.

King.

Not if he can shew Proof of what he says.

Men.

My Liege, I beg a moments Privacy.

For I've a wond'rous secret to impart;

King.

Retire a while.

[Ex. Attendants.

Now Menaphon, your bus'ness:

Men.

O Sir, I've such a Story as will scorch,

Your boyling veins into so hot a Feaver,

Will make your heart-strings burst, and set a float

The burning Lake within 'em.

King.

Ha! be quick:

Men.

If it were possible, I'de keep it in.

But [...]t has long strugled in my breast for vent.

My Lord I know too sure that you are wrong'd.

King.

Ha!

Men.

Wrong'd in the highest Point, wrong'd in your honour.

Upon my knees I kiss this Prost'rate Earth,

And humbly beg that which my tongue shall speak—

Since it proceeds from nought but Love and duty,

May either be forgiven or forgot.

King.

You have it, rise, discharge an open breast.

Men.

O my dread Leige, my words will raise a Storm,

Able to stagger all your Royal reason:

I wish my Loyall heart could cover sin,

But love and my Allegiance bid me speak,

King.

Speak then, and do not wrack me with delay:

Men.

Women, why were you made for man's affliction?

The first that ever made us tast of grief,

And last of whom in Torments we complain▪

[Page] Ye Devills, shap'd like Angells, through whose deeds,

Our forked shames are made most visible.

No Soul of sense, wou'd wrong bright Majesty:

Nor stain their blood, with such Impurity.

King.

Nay good my Lord, leave off this Mistick speech,

And give me knowledge from a plainer phraise.

Men.

Then Plainly thus my Lord, your bed's abus'd:

O foolish Zeal, that makes me desperate.

Your Queen has sin'd, and done a double wrong

To you, her self, and sacred Chastity.

O she has lost her honour, she that looks,

All health without, within is all Contagion.

King.

How Menaphon! Beware, think where thou'rt going,

Endeavour not to blast Semanthes virtue,

Had'st thou thy sence about thee 'twere impossible

Thy tongue cou'd utter such blasphemous Sounds;

Therefore I pardon thee for what thou'st said,

And think it only the effects of madness:

But if like this you add one Syllable more,

Thou dost Pronounce upon thy self a sentence,

That Earthquake-like will swallow thee.

Men.

Let it open.

Better that I, and thousands more shou'd perish,

Then live to see our Royall Lords Dishonour.

King.

Ha!—

[Offers to draw:

Men.

Do, I lay my bosom bare before you;

Kill me, because I love you and speak truth:

Is this the merit of a Roman faith?

Have I for this then play'd the watchfull Argos,

To sound the very depth of her designs?

I had been mad indeed, a doating fool,

'T'have told you this without I'd had some proof.

But know my Leige, did not your Rage devour you,

And passion too much oversway your reason?

I cou'd relate a tale so full of horrour,

'Twould startle all mankind to here it told:

But since I find you'd rather hug your shame,

Then bravely to Revenge the wrongs you suffer,

Send to the Grave, this forward Zealous fool,

That durst attempt to tell his King the truth.

King.

Had I Just cause, I wou'd pursue such injuries,

Through fire, ayr, water, earth, nay, were they all

Shuffled again to Chaos, but there's none,

[Page] And therefore thou that hast Blasphem'd her virtue,

Sha't have thy Just reward—

[Draws

Men.

Yet hold my Lord;

Since I am Enter'd in this desperate cause,

And you think Death to be my due reward,

Let me before the fatall Blow is given.

Beg one short minute not to Plead for life,

But let you know I dye for Loyallty:

King.

Which if thou dost,

Men.

Which if I do not,

May the Immortall Powers at the last day,

Shut all the Shining Gates of Heav'n against me,

And hurl me head-long to the burning Lake.

King.

I know thou'rt Valliant, and with valliant minds,

Slander is worse then theft or Sacrilege.

A step beyond the utmost Plagues of Hell,

And therefore I will hear what thou canst say

[Puts up his sword.

If thou canst shew me any Certain Proof.

(Which by the Gods it is a Sin to think)

That my Semanthe's false, instead of threats,

Thou sha't in ev'ry thing find favour from me:

But if thou dost not, by my Fathers Soul,

Imagine what makes man most miserable,

And that shall fall upon thee.

Men.

Willingly.

I do Embrace this kind Proposall, Sir.

Know then, the man (or rather Stile him Monster,)

That does thus Impiously defile your Bed,

Is Ithocles.

King.

Well Menaphon, go on:

I'le patiently hear every word you utter,

But shall expect strong proofs e're I believe.

Men.

Which if I do not give, my lifes the forfeit.

King.

I've done.

Men.

My Lord, you know early this morning,

You went your self to take a view o'th' Army.

No body left behind, but I, and Ithocles.

For having long before had some suspition,

I did indeed neglect my duty too,

To try if I cou'd gain a farther Proof

Of what before I but suspected only;

And having watch'd the Queen in the Garden,

I plac'd my self unseen behind the Bower,

[Page] When streight I spy'd Lord Ithocles approach,

With all the hast, belonging to a Lover,

He flew to the Embraces of the Queen,

And sigh'd, and gaz'd, and kiss'd, and Curs'd his fate,

That he cou'd not Possess that Heav'n alone:

She threw her snowy Armes about his Neck,

Imbrac'd him Close, O Ithocles (says she)

Thou darling of my Soul be ever thus;

Thus wise, thus secret in the scene of love,

And keep it safe from the deluded King.

King.

What shou'd I think? he durst not sure say this,

Were he not very Certain of the truth;

Besides the man was ever Counted honest,

[Aside.

He's young and handsome, Valliant, and discreet,

And I my self have prov'd his Loyalty,

These are not Marks belonging to a Villain.

O thou hast wak'd me, and thy piercing words

[to him.

Have split my sence in sunder, and cou'd I,

Live to behold at once the general end,

And see the World wrap'd in its funeral Flame,

When the Bright Sun shall lend its Beams to burn,

What he before brought forth, and water serve,

Not to Extinguish but to Nurse the Fire,

It wou'd not give me half the Torturing Pangs,

As does the thoughts thou'st raised within my breast.

But yet I must expect an Occular Proof,

For tho' thy words have rais'd a storm within me,

I must have stronger reasons that she's false.

Men.

Why then to shew you Sir how much I love you,

And with what Zeal I've strove to serve my King,

I'le shew these two seeming Saints, (but Devills,)

Even in the Act of sin that needs must damn 'em.

King.

Ha! In the Act! it is impossible:

Men.

It is indeed to Nick the very time;

But I will shew you something Comes so near,

You may with ease imagine what's been done:

But know my Liege when these dark deeds are done,

'Tis when they're very certain of your absence,

Therefore might I be worthy to advise,

Early i'th' morning make some slight pretence,

That may detain you till the following day,

Then if I do not give you certain Proof,

Of the Queens falshood, cut me into Atoms.

[Page]King.

Is't possible! O this Land-Crocodile▪

Made of Egyptian slime! Accursed woman,

Wou'd when I first beheld her tempting face,

My eyes had met with Light'ning, and instead

Of hearing her Inchanting tongue, the shreeks,

Of Mandrakes had made musick to my Slumbers.

Men.

My Lord be Patient, see before you doubt:

King.

I will, nay thou sha't see me wond'rous Patient,

For yet I cannot think Semanthe false,

Tho' words like thine, urg'd with such Confidence,

To any man but me, wou'd turn him mad.

Farewell my Lord, and see you keep your promise,

For if thou dost not, Vengance, Hell, and Horrour,

Shall certainly attend thy Canker'd Soul.

[Ex. King.

Manet Men.

Men.

Rowl on the Chariot Wheels of my dark Plot,

And bear my ends to their desired Marks,

He's gone with black suspition in his heart,

And made his Soul a slave to Jealousy:

Let him go on, on to the Gulph of Ruine,

As sure he shall when I have work'd my Ends:

Now to my Brother, O thou Credulous King,

The Tortur'd Ghosts that dwell i'th' dark Abyss,

Have pleasant Hours to what thou sha't enjoy.

For when the black designs that I have laid,

Are brought to pass, then, then comes all thy pain,

And thou sha't never tast of Peace again.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

The Scene drawn discovers Marcelia sitting Melancholly.

A Song within.

I.

Were I with my Orinda bless'd,

Of the dear Maid Possess'd.

It wou'd in Angells Envy breed,

To see our Ioys shou'd theirs exceed,

One minute wou'd more bliss bestow,

Then they in Thousand Ages know.

[Page]

II.

All over Rapture when shall I,

With you in Transport lye,

On thy soft bosom to be plac'd?

To be by those dear Arms Embras'd.

Is better far then Diadems:

With all the Eastern useless Iems.

Marcelia Rises.

Mar.

No more of this, it suites not with my sorrow,

For one so wretched, and so lost as I—

The Groans of Tortur'd Ghosts were fitter Musick:

O Ithocles! Part'ner of my Afflictions,

With much more Joy, and vast contentedness,

Wou'd I embrace my death within thy Arms,

Then live possess'd o'th' World thus sever'd from thee:

O King, King, O my too Cruell Unckle;

With what a weight of sorrow do you load me,

Be kind and give me ease by present Death.

Enter a Lady.

Lady.

One from Prince Meleander Craves Admittance.

Mar.

Altho' I hate the name of him he comes from,

Yet that I may have Opportunity

To vent my passion by my scorn, admit him.

[Ex. Lady.

Re-enter with Lattinius and Exits.

Latt.

Divinest Excellence, whose Conquering eyes,

Have made a Captive of the best of Men,

Do not with scorn repay his faithfull love:

Ah Madam, hither I am sent to lay

His bleeding heart before you, and inform you,

He can no longer live without your pitty;

His tortur'd Soul will quickly leave its Mansion,

Unless your kind Consent will make him happy.

Mar.

My, my Consent! Hear me you bless'd above,

If I do ever entertain one thought

Of love to any but my Ithocles,

Let me continue wretched, still a Pris'ner,

And never know the bless'd content of Freedom:

This tell your Lord, and let him know beside,

[Page] There's not one torturing Pang within his breast,

But what's doubled in mine, and he the cause:

Then guess what pitty he must e're expect

From one that suffers all this pain through him.

Latt.

Alas his Crime is caus'd by too much love.

Oh had you heard, (as I too oft have done,)

The deep-fetch'd sighs have sprung from his sad heart,

The many Groans, beheld the tears h'as shed,

His broken slumbers and his restless thoughts,

You'd sure make a more kind return then scorn.

Mar.

Never, Oh never, 'tis not in my power,

My life, my heart, my love is Ithocles's,

And 'Im too firmly fix'd e're to be Chang'd.

Latt.

O on my knees let me return my thanks,

Keep still, keep still this constant resolution,

Bless'd be the Powers that have inspir'd your breast,

With this unshaken faith to Ithocles.

For shou'd you er'e consent to Meleander,

That day that gives you him must give me Death.

Mar.

What means the Youth?

Latt.

O Look on poor Statillia;

On her who loves above her life that man,

Whom you can entertain with so much scorn:

But by the freindship that was once between us,

And by the constant love you bear my Brother,

Lock up this Secret as you'd guard your life,

Lest the too fatall breath of a discovery,

Shou'd Seal my everlasting Banishment,

Shut from that Bliss his dearest presence gives,

For 'tis there only that Statillia lives.

Mar.

O rise, thy Brother's Part'ner in my heart,

And what there is in my poor power to serve you,

You may with Confidence Command: but Sister,

(For so I now must call you, since your Brother

Is made the full possessor of my love,)

You may be kind and let me see you often,

For 'tis a wondrous Comfort to th' afflicted,

To have a kind Companion in their Sorrows.

Latt.

O do not doubt it, for your Company

Next Meleanders is my all I covet;

And sometimes to divert our mournfull hours,

We'le sit, and talk, and sigh, and weep, and wish,

T' obtain our loves, but O I fear in vain.

[Page]Mar.

We know not that Heav'n Pities the Afflicted,

And time brings many won'drous things to pass;

Mean while, we twins of misery and sorrow,

Will comfort one another, like true friends:

We'le equally share happiness and grief,

And beg some pittying God to send relief.

Ex. Omn.

SCENE. V. A Garden.

Enter King and Semanthe.

Sem.

My Lord, If I did e're possess your love,

If you have any kindness for Semanthe,

Tell me the meaning of your clowded brow,

And why you seem thus troubled?

King.

I have cause:

O my Semanthe, in my last nights sleep,

My troubled fancy has been so perplex'd

With dreadfull dreams, and hideous Apparitions,

That take away my quiet; for methought,

(O dreadfull sight!) methought the verge of Heav'n,

Was Ring'd with flames, and all the upper vault,

Thick laid with flakes of fire, i'th midst of which

A Blazing Comet shot his threat'ning tail,

Just in my face; I thought 'twas terrible;

But Oh what after came was that distracts me,

I saw, (O that I cou [...]d forget the sight)

Just in that Bower, (mark what I say Semanthe)

I saw thee sit, and in a short time after,

Lord Ithocles came with a lovers speed,

Imbrac'd, Carress'd thee, you requited him

With Amorous looks, soft kisses, twining arms,

With these kind words, O my dear Ithocles,

Let us be still thus Secret in our Loves,

And keep it close from the deluded King:

[Seizes Semanthe roughly by the Hands.]

But by the Honour of Anoynted heads,

Were both of you hid in a Rock of fire,

Guarded by flaming Ministers of Hell,

By Heav'n I have a sword shou'd make my way,

Through fire, and darkness furies Death to hew

Each Gangreen'd Limb of thee Infernal Sorceress.

[Page]Sem.

Mercy Protect me, will you murder me?

Alas! I cannot guess the cause of this.

King.

O Pardon me Semanthe, do not blame me,

For such another dream wou'd quite distract me:

But tell me love, was't not a dreadfull vision?

Sem.

It was indeed my Lord, a wond'rous one,

Yet but a dream, for shou'd so great a guilt

Hang on my Honour, 'twere but Justice in you,

If you shou'd tear my false disloyall heart out,

King,

Thy heart! nay Strumpet even thy very Soul.

[Seizes her again.

Tear it with fury from thy Cursed Carkass,

And damn it ever in Immortall Death.

Sem.

Alas what mean you Sir!

King.

O I am mad.

Forgive me dear Semanthe, for methinks,

I dream anew, and it distracts me so,

That I take Idle visions to be reall;

Leave me Semanthe, when these dreadfull thoughts

Have left my troubl'd breast, I'le visit thee.

Sem.

The Heav'ns preserve you from those frightfull dreams,

That thus disturb the quiet of my Lord:

[Ex. Sem.

Manet King.

King.

Can she be false! no 'tis impossible:

The vision I have now related to her,

Was only what Menaphon sayd he saw.

If she were Guilty, there must needs appear,

Something of a mistrust she was discover'd.

But she looks sweet as Roses, and appears,

Like virgin Lillies in unsully'd Infancy.

If she be Chast then Menaphon beware,

For I will have a dire revenge on thee,

The torments us'd in Bloudy Massacres;

And more, if any more can be invented,

Shall surely fall upon thee; but if not,

If she be false, Destruction Ruine, Horrour,

Bloud, bloud, and Death, fair Infidell's thy doom:

And if for Injur'd love's Consummating vengeance,

Beyond the Grave, one Hotter place there be,

In all the hideous sphear of wrath divine,

The very Center of damnation's thine.

Ex. King.

The End of the Third Act.

The Fourth ACT.

[Page]

SCENE I.

Enter Menaphon, Orgillus, Meeting Armena.

Org.

WElcome Armena, what, is the deed done?

Arm.

Speak softly: 'tis.

Org.

How Long?

Arm.

Full half an hour:

Have you perform'd the same by Ithocles.

Men.

At least an hour ago,

The King too is Conceal'd at my Apartment,

And those few Nobles that Attended him,

He has disper'd on severall Occasions:

I'le to him straight, mean while be it your care,

To fix 'em both 'th' posture that I order'd;

The darkness of the Night so well befriends us,

That you with ease may secretly Convey him

To the Queens Lodgings, which when you've perform'd,

I'le bring the King to see the Dreadfull sight,

That Gorgon like will turn him into stone:

[Ex. Men.

Arm.

O Orgillus, where do you mean to lead me?

My heart fore-bodes, this ruinous design

Will by the means of the Almighty powers,

Those Sacred Guardians of the Innocent,

Fall on our heads.

Org.

An Idle fear Armenia.

For 'tis not in the Power of fate it self,

To hinder the design we've so well lay'd;

It is impossible it shou'd be discover'd,

Unless to one another we are false.

Arm.

I hope my Orgillus does not doubt me,

I who for love of thee cou'd thus betray,

A Queen so kind, so Innocent and Good,

Wou'd not at last discover the dear man,

Whom I have forfieted my faith to serve.

Org.

No my best life, thou dearest, kindest Creature;

To doubt thee were a Sin unpardonable,

[Page] As much as 'tis impossible to make

A Return kind enough for thy deserts:

But see, my Brother, and the King approach,

Let us retire, and fix the dreadfull Scene.

[Ex. Omn.

SCENE II.

Enter King and Menaphon.

King.

O Menaphon, thou'st set me on the wrack;

What! an Appointment, O my tortur'd Soul,

If that the Center now this very moment,

Labour'd to bring forth Earthquakes, and Hell open'd

Her wide stretch'd Jaws, and let out all her furies,

I'de rather stand the shock, the brunt of all,

Then but to think 'tis true that thou hast told me.

Men.

My Leige, shou'd I not be a desperate mad man,

To tell you this, were I not Certain on't;

By Heav'n I heard the dark Appointment made,

Nay more this very hour saw him go,

To'th Queens Apartment.

King.

O Perfidious Monster.

But hast away, shew me the Scene of Lust,

Let me behold her dallying in his Arms,

That I may shoot with swifter fate upon 'em,

Then the Keen'st Bolt in all the Forge of Heav'n.

Men.

My Leige I will, but yet 'twere requisite

Her Brother were a witness of her shame;

And for the greatest Plague to Ithocles,

Let his Marcelia too be a Spectator.

King.

It shall be so, send speedily away,

And bid 'em meet me in the Queens Apartment.

Men.

Who waits? Nearchus.

Enter Nearchus.

Near.

My Lord.

Men.

Away,

Hast to Marcelia, and to Meleander.

And bid 'em instantly attend the King,

He'le be i'th' Queens Apartment.

[Page]King.

Nearchus,

Here take my signet, and release Marcelia,

And bid 'em not to make a moments stay—

[Ex. Near.

Men.

Come Sir, now you shall find how true I love you,

Now you shall see the care of your poor Servant:

With how much pains h'as watcht these brooding Monsters,

And how at last h'as ta'ne 'em in the toil.

King.

Light'ning and Earthquakes, Horrour and despair,

O the high Billows of my Stormy Soul!

If it be so, Mark, mark me Menaphon,

No Lybian Lyons rob'd of her young,

Rowzes her self more fiercely from her Den,

Then I will do to crush this pair of Vipers.

O thou sha't see with what a brave Revenge,

I'le tear the heart from the Adulteress,

And make the blood of the false Scorpion cure me.

Men.

'Twill be but Justice for to wrong a King,

O Heav'n defend me, it is so damn'd a Crime,

That Hell it self before ne're bred a Feind,

Cou'd entertain a thought so infamous:

But Sir, the time draws near, will you away?

King.

Yes I will go:

With Light'ning in my eyes, in my heart Vengeance.

Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE. III.

The Scene drawn, discovers Ithocles, and Semanthe A-sleep on a Couch, Arm in Arm.

Enter Menaphon with a Light, followed by the King, Meleander, and Marcelia.

King.

Patience you Gods, hold, hold, my boyling blood.

O 'twere a rare and Exquisite revenge,

To join their Hearts on my Swords point as close,

As their Ingend'ring lips.

Mele.

What do I see!

Vengeance and Horrour, do I wake or dream!

What, Arm in Arm, O I can hold no longer.

Take, take Adult'ress thy just reward—

Draws. Runs to the Queen, and the King stops him.

[Page]King.

Hold, hold, I charge you; for that brave Revenge,

Is due to me alone, wake, wake, you Monsters,

That e're I send you to th' infernall shades,

I may a while torture your Souls on Earth,

And let you know what 'tis to wrong a King.

Ithocles wakes, and seeing the Queen by him, starts: And turning round sees the King.

Itho.

Where am I! ha! What dreadfull Vision's this!

If I do wake, some pittying God above,

Be kind, and end my life this very moment.

My Lord the King—

King.

Yes Monster 'tis the same;

Who is come hither to behold a Sight,

Wou'd damn a Saint, and blast a Bassalisk,

To see two brooding Vipers mix their Poisons,

And a Lascivious lewd Adult'ress burn,

With lust far more Tempestuous, Flames far hotter,

Then that great day when the young Chariotier,

Misled the Sun, and set the World on Fire:

O I'm not able to endure the Torture:

My Guards there.

Enter Guards Attendants, and Penthea.

Seize on that Infernal Feind.

Guards seize Ithocles.

Itho.

My Gracious Lord, hear me but speak one moment:

King.

Be gone you slaves, and house him in a Dungeon;

Load him with Irons, lay more weight on him,

Then ought to hang upon his Canker'd Soul,

When he reflects upon his Monst'rous Crime.

Guards force him out.

Mar.

O Eyes, after this Object see no more:

O lead me, lead me from the dismall Scene:

[to Penthea▪

Let me no more behold the face of day,

But in a Place fit for so lost a Wretch,

In darkness End my miserable Life.

There from the false deluding Flatt'ring Tongues,

O Faithless men, for ever I'le remain.

And ne're believe that Perjur'd Sex again.

[Exit Mar. weeping led by Penthea.

[Page]King.

Who wou'd believe a Guilty wretch like her,

Cou'd take a sleep so sound—

[Semanthe wakes.

But see the wakes,

And seems amaz'd to see her lover gone:

Turn this way wretched thing, and look on me.

[Semanthe runs amazedly to the King.

Sem.

My Lord the King! O take me to your arms,

And sheild me from that lean devouring feind:

O Sr, I've had a dream of so much horrour,

'Twould Certainly have rum me to distraction,

Had not the sight of you awak'd my spirits:

But my dear Lord, I little did expect,

T'have had your wish'd for company to night.

King.

Hear, hear you Gods the Cunning of this Syren.

Look down upon the Sex which you have made,

To Curse Mankinde and fill the world with plagues.

O Devill, Devill in thy properest shape,

How canst thou look upon me but with Horrour?

Sem.

Alas! what means my Lord? sure I dream still,

I do beseech you speak not such harsh words,

My tender heart unus'd to these strange sounds,

Struggles within me, as 'twou'd leave its dwelling.

King.

Peace, peace thou Artfull Strumpet, talk no more.

Sem.

What is he Angry?—

[to Mele.

Mele.

Blackest vengeance seize thee.

Where hadst thou Impudence to ask that question?

Sem.

Good Heav'n what unknown Crime have I committed,

To Pull that Curse from Meleanders mouth?

[weeps.

Sem.

My Royall Lord—

[to the King

King.

Damnation Stop thy Speech:

Go take this Viper to your Custody,—

[to Bassanes.

And let her not behold the face of day.

Sem.

May I not know my fault?

King.

Perdition seize thee:

Away with her, let me not hear her speak.

Sem.

Have you no pity?

King.

Dogs have you no ears?

Sem.

Stay but one Moment—

[to Bassanes

King.

Better swallow fire▪

Sem.

Brother, Plead for me;

Mele.

Sulpher Choak thy voice.

[Exit Meleander

[Exit Semanthe forc'd out by Guards.

[Page]King

O I am all within a burning Etna,

My blood boyles hotter then the Poison'd flesh

Of Hercules Cloath'd in the Centaur's Shirt.

Men.

Had I not seen, I never cou'd have thought,

Semanthe of all womankind was false.

King.

She, 'tis no wonder friend, for by yon Heav'n,

The Sex is all perdition,

When nature shall all blaze and the Poles crack,

Hell Gape, and all its Sulph'rous mines burst out,

'Tis only woman that must light the fire.

Men.

O horrour! what a Tempest have I rais'd?

Dear Sir, no more, Cease this wild rage.

King.

I've done—

[Pauses.

And now will study for a dire revenge.

Rise from thy Scorching Den thou Soul of mischief,

And teach me Torments ne're before invented,

Swell me revenge, till I become a Hill,

High as Olimpus Cloud dividing Top,

That I may fall▪ and crush 'em to the Center.

O that I cou'd make her an Age in Dying,

And O that her's were like Prometheus heart,

And I'th immortall vulture to Torment it.

Men.

O Royall Sir, upon my knees I beg,

If all the Service that I ever did you,

Can merit but the smallest spark of favour,

Hear me but speak, 'tis true, she ought to Dye,

Her Crime I must confess unpardonable;

But O consider Sir, think on her Sin,

Think on the Anger Heav'n must bear against her:

And shou'd you send her hence loaded with Guilt,

T'wou'd forfeit all her Joys i'th other world;

Therefore most Sacred Sir, I do intreat,

That you wou'd spare her time for a repentance.

King.

Repent! Alas! thou knowst not what thou sayst.

Is't possible a woman e're can Pray!

No friend, the only use they make of Heav'n, is

To be forsworn by't, but my sence turns wild,

And throngs of thoughts are crowding for a passage.

By all my hopes she shan'tout-live this night,

Even now I'le bath my hands I'th Stumpets blood:

Farewell my Lord, and e're the morning Dawns,

Thou sha't behold these hands Steep'd in her Gore,

And even her name raz'd from my memory▪

[Page] From this wild rage, her Death shall free my Soul,

And I forget I had a Queen so foul,

For ever scorn, nay loath all woman-kind.

But oh my former Peace, I ne're shall find.

[Ex. King.

Manet Menaphon.

Men.

So, my designs at last have gain'd their end:

But stay, Armena lives, and she's a Woman,

By Consequence too leakey to keep secrets.

My Brother therefore must dispatch her straight;

By Heav'n to Night, she must not live till morn,

For that frail Sex is so much given to talk,

They are not silent in their very sleeps,

And tho' the secrets they're intrusted with,

Are ev'n the Hinges that their own lives hang on,

Their slippery tongues, are all so giv'n to stir,

That death's the only thing can keep 'em still.

Therefore to make our great Foundation sure,

Her talking Malady by Death we'le cure.

[Exit.

SCENE. IV. A Prison.

Ithocles discover'd Chain'd, and lying on a Couch.

A Lamp burning by him.

Itho.

To what may I compare this dismal place?

Sure 'tis a grave, A Tomb for living Men,

Or else a Place form'd by Conspirators,

To lay those dark and Damnable designs,

That dare not look upon the open day.

You mighty Rulers of the Heav'ns and Earth,

You Sacred Guardians of poor wretched man,

Do I deserve these Chains, this loathsome Dungeon?

You know my Innocence, you know what spells

Betray'd me to the Embraces of the Queen:

You know the Villany of Menaphon,

(For sure 'twas his most damnable design,

That did Convey me to that fatall place,)

By what curst drugs he shut my senses up,

That when I wak'd I spy'd my own undoing.

[Page] Enter Marcelia.

Marcelia here! then sorrow take thy leave,

And nought but Joy inhabit in my breast,

O to my Arms thou Goddess of my days,

Why dost thou thrust me from thee, O my Soul?

Do not thou join too with the Angry powers,

And make my mighty load of misery,

More heavy then before.

Mar.

No perjur'd Man,

I come not here t'upbray'd you with your Crime,

But since the King has given me his permission,

To let me see you; know my Lord I come,

To take my Eternal leave.

Itho.

What means my Love?

I know indeed my death draws on a-pace,

My innocence by Villany's betray'd.

But hoped my Marcelia wou'd have been more kind,

Then ever to suspect my Constancy.

Mar.

Suspect! Alas, 'twas more then bare suspition,

'Twas not the Power of the World cou'd move me,

Had I not seen it, to believe thee false:

But when clasp'd Arm in Arm I did behold thee,

And after that thou durst forswear thy Crime,

It adds the Sin of Perjury to Falsehood,

And makes thee seem a Mon'strous thing indeed.

Itho.

By the Eternal Lamps that light the Skies,

'Twas Villany and damn'd Contrivance all.

The Plot, and Treachery of Menaphon.

The Queen is Innocent as unborn babes,

Tho' fal'n with me in that curs'd Traytors snare.

Mar.

O, Men▪ Men! who wou'd e're believe your Oaths.

The Moon does not so often change her Course,

As you do Change your loves; I'le hear no more:

Let me but take one look from those dear eyes.

And now, false Sex farewell.

[offers to go.

Itho.

O stay, dear Angell stay;

Mar.

No, my unkind, false Lord, farewell for ever.

Itho.

Stay but one minute, stay mistaken sweetness,

[Kneels

Do not forsake your Loyall prost'rate slave.

Here I take root, and grow into my Grave,

Till I have gain'd belief of my Marcelia.

O, hear me, hear me, for by you bright Heav'n,

[Page] My oathes are true, the Gods can witness for me,

They see, they know my heart, my truth, my Soul.

Mar.

O Ithocles, Stop, stop that fatall Eloquence,

Such were the very Sounds that first undid me:

Thou true! no Cruell man, speak it no more.

I will not hear it named, it is a sound

I never can believe from man again:

Wou'd you be so unkinde t'undo me more?

Did I not see you false, saw your imbraces?

Itho.

What shall I say, is there no pittying God,

That will descend a witness of my truth?

Mar.

No there is none, they all have seen thy falsehood,

Farewell, and O that fatall name of love,

I now shall hear no more, Heav'n grant you freedom,

And may you long inherit happiness,

Possess in ev'ry thing your wish, whilst I,

Go seek some Melancholly Cell and Die—

Ex Mar▪

Manet Ithocles.

Itho.

Not hear my Innocence? thou sha't fair murd'ress,

I'le Thunder't in thy Ears till I am dead.

Nay, when thy scorn has layd my bones in dust,

I'le burst my Marble Load, and tell thee Tyrant,

Thou wert the Chiefest cause of my affliction:

Yes, thou sha't hear—

My murmuring Groans, thy murder'd Lover's Groans,

Whilst all thy Glorious Locks, those beauteous Tresses,

On thy Prowd Forehead fix'd with horrour stand,

Erected like the strutting Porcupine,

And the bright fires in those bewitching eyes,

Wane and burn Pale at my approaching Ghost,

And Wish too late for what thy Scorn had lost.

[Exit Ithocles▪

SCENE. V.

A Banquet set forth. Two Bowls on the Table.

Enter Orgillus.

Org.

I've sent according to my Brothers order,

To bid Armena meet me instantly,

'Tis near the hour I did appoint her coming;

How easy 'tis for man to be a villain;

He that desires to bend his mind to mischief,

[Page] Let him but be a fix'd Industrious knave,

And he can never fail of his designs.

I hated Ithocles, conspir'd his fall,

Assisted Menaphon in his designe

Against a Queen virtuous and Innocent:

But why shou'd I conspire Armena's Death?

I cannot guess what Crime she has Committed;

But I have waded into villany,

And to proceed's less dangerous then retreating,

The deeper Gulph I have plung'd o're, and now

Have but the shallower Brink to ford it through.

Enter a Servant.

How now? your news?

Ser.

Armena Craves admittance.

Org.

Conduct her in—

[Exit Servant.]

Keep back you Checks of Conscience▪

You shou'd have stung me e're I had began

This damnable design, 'twould now be base,

To start from what so firmly was resolv'd.

Enter Armena.

She comes the Sacrifice draws toward the Altar,

Come near my love, why does my Angell weep?

Why drops the precious dew from those fair eyes?

Art thou not well? what means that sigh Armena?

If thou didst ever love me, tell the cause.

Arm.

O Orgillus, O cruell bloody man!

To what a Sea of Ruine have you brought me?

Org.

Is't Possible! do you repent your kindness?

Arm.

Oh as you hope for happiness hereafter,

As you wou'd gain Immortal peace of Heav'n,

Be just, and save the Queen, and Ithocles,

Declare to th' King your cursed mint of Forgery,

Lay open all your Plot of bloud and horrour,

And save your own, your Brothers Soul and mine:

For sure Damnation must attend our Crime,

That thus betrays a pair so Innocent.

Org.

How, my Armena! What! betray the secret?

Wou'dst thou then have me Traytor to my Brother▪

Betray the man that has walk'd hand in hand,

Assisted me in my Revenge: O horrid!

[Page]Arm.

A Traytor to him, no, you'l be's friend,

You free him from Eternal Punishment.

D'ye think that Heav'n, (which is in all things Just,)

Will suffer treachery like ours to scape

The Punishment our Treason has deserv'd?

Upon my knees I beg you, as you hope,

For pleasure here, and happiness hereafter;

Go to the King, tell him your damn'd designe,

His Joy to finde the Queen is Innocent,

Will make him pardon us for our past crimes;

And all the ill we have already done,

Will be for ever Cancell'd and forgot.

Org.

Sit down my love, and tell me: shou'd I now

Go to the King, acknowledge ev'ry fault,

Tell him by what strange execrable means,

We brought those Innocents into our Snare,

D'ye think he wou'd forgive us?

Arm.

Not that only,

But Favour us, esteem us his best freinds,

Commend our happy, bless'd Remorse of Conscience;

Think ev'ry hour of our remaining life

Will be repentance, (as I'me sure it ought,)

To wash the Guilt away that Clogs our Souls.

Org.

Since then Armena 'twas the love of me,

Betray'd thee into our dark Consultation,

I will to thee unfold my nearest Secret;

My Brother and my self had so design'd,

The morrow for Semanthes Execution,

But now to shew my Gratitude and love,

(Together with a sharp remorse of Conscience,)

I'le change my Cruell, and (too) barbr'ous purpose,

Content my self with what's already done,

And rely wholly on the King for mercy.

Arm.

And are you reall?

Org.

As the Powers we serve.

Arm.

I thank you from my Soul my dearest Lord,

You have by this kind grant made me your vassall.

Org.

Armena, A long life to the fair Queen;

May she enjoy her former happiness,

And be as bless'd as thou wilt presently,

When I've reveal'd our story to the King,

For sure 'twill over-joy thee.

[Orgillus drinks.]

[Page]Arm.

With more pleasure

I wish her life, then Heirs their Fathers Deaths.

[Armena drinks out of the Poyson'd Bowle.]

But O make hast, lest his wild Jealousy,

Shou'd hurry him to do the fatall deed,

Which ne're can be recall'd.

Org.

It shall not be recall'd, nor sha't thou hinder it.

Arm.

What means my Love?

Org.

Dull thing I'le tell thee:

I did (as now I finde I had some cause,)

Suspect thy mind too wav'ring for a Secret,

Of such great Consequence as ours was:

Therefore thou frail one, with that bowl of poyson,

I've Seal'd thy lips for ever.

Arm.

Can it be?

Is this then the requitall of my love?

But Oh 'tis now too late for to upbraid thee:

Yet Orgillus, tho' you to me are Cruell,

Be mercifull to'th Queen She's Innocent:

O Save her, save her e're it be too late;

Upon my knees with my last breath I beg, you

Do not persist in that will bring destruction

Even to your long eternity, and blot

Your spotted Soul from the fair Book of Life.

Org.

A fit of Conscience; Pious fool! but Conscience,

Is all our common frailty, when we're dying.

But to be kinder to you at our parting,

Then let you spend your last short breath in vain,

Imploy the little time thou hast to live,

Some other way, and not on talk to me▪

I have got by thee all the good I can▪

If thou hadst had a farther Power to serve me,

Thou shoud'st have liv'd, but I have gain'd my End,

And now 'tis for my Int'rest thou shou'dst die.

Arm.

You have your wish, I find your words are true▪

For Deaths Cold hand has seiz'd upon my heart:

Farewell thou Chief of thy false perjur'd Sex,

And O take heed! for bloud will sure have bloud;

Tho' Cruell as you are, I can forgive you,

And wish that Heav'n wou'd deal so mildly by you▪

My death is only what I have deserv'd.

[Page] But O beware, let not Semanthe Die,

For hers, will surely be reveng'd at full▪

The fatall Drug works strongly in my breast,

I feel, I feel my life decay apace;

You powers forgive me for my Sinfull Crime▪

Take me; O take me to your bless'd abode;

Preserve the Queen▪ let not this black designe,

Reach her dear life, tho' it has lost [...]e mine.

[Die▪

Org.

She's gone, now Brother thou'rt secure from fear,

The Secret now's alone between us two;

And if we are not Traytors to our selves,

We must be safe; where shall I now dispose her?

Stay, let me see, under my window runs,

A River, very proper for my purpose:

From thence Immediately I'le cast her in,

And if she's found, ev'ry one will suppose,

She met her Death by accident, or else,

My Brother shall Insinuate to the King,

She was Complotter with the Queen Semanthe,

And Guilt had caus'd her act a desperate deed:

It shall be so, I'le instantly dispatch,

And tell my Brother how I have Succeeded.

Farewell thou loving fool, I pitty thee.

But 'twas not for my safety thou shou'dst live:

For when we once are Conscientious grown,

We cannot keep a Secret tho' our own,

[Exit Carrying off Armena▪

The Scene Drawn discovers Semanthe in Prison, In her Night-Gown, Reading, A Lamp burning by her.

Sem.

All's hush'd, and quiet as the peacefull Grave,

The Labourer tyr'd with his dayly toil;

Now takes a sweet repose, but I must wake,

For ever wake, and never know content,

Plac'd in a dismall, dark, and Loathsome Jail,

And cannot guess what Crime I have Committed,

Nor why the Cruell King is Angry,

Were I but sensible of any fault,

I shou'd then think it Justice I were here,

But cou'd I search my life from the beginning,

I cannot think a Guilt deserving this.

[Page] Enter to her the King.

Whose there at this late hour? my Lord the King!

King.

Yes, yes Adulteress:

Look on me Monster, look on him thou'st wrong'd,

Behold a King that would have dy'd for'thee,

And for his faithfull violent Constant love,

Cou'dst thou not make him a more kind return.

Sem.

O Sir, as you wou'd gain Immortall honour

On Earth, and everlasting Joys in Heav'n,

As you wou'd have your Glorious actions fill

The Book of fame, and like ascending Incense,

Perfume the Skies, and treat th' immortall Gods,

Be kind, and let me know how I've offended,

For by the Sacred lights that shine above,

These eyes yet never saw the rising Sun,

But that my Vows and Prayers were sent to Heav'n,

For the dear safety of my Royall Lord;

Therefore I cannot guess what wond'rous fauit,

I have Committed to deserve a Dungeon.

King.

O thou bewitching Syren▪ dar'st thou plead,

An Ignorance to all thy horrid Guilt,

Nay, then thou are a Monster damn'd indeed,

To Plunge in Sin and pretend Innocence:

I thought, t'have found thee mourning for thy Crime:

For Sinfull as thou art it was my wish,

Thou might'st before thy Death make peace with Heav'n.

Sem.

My death! Good Heav'n what means my Royall Lord?

I hope that time is not yet near at hand▪

King.

Most sure, why cou'dst thou think I'de be so tame,

After I'de found thee false to let thee live?

Sem.

How false my Lord? in what?

King.

False to my bed.

I need not tell thee, for thou know'st too well,

By Heav'n thou art as light as fleeting ayr:

Sem.

Who's my accuser?

King.

My own eyes beheld thee,

Clasp'd arm in arm with Ithocles.

Sem.

Nay then,

I find I am Betray'd, and you Abus'd.

King.

Betray'd! Good Heav'n! what does the strumpet mean?

Nay then 'tis time to give the fatall blow:

[Page] For shou'd I listen longer to her words,

[Aside.

She wou'd persuade me spight of all I saw,

To take her to my Arms and pardon her.

Come thou fair Devil, in thy Prayers reckon,

[to her.

The perfect sum of all thy horrid sins;

There amongst others, pour forth streams of bloud,

For one above the rest▪ Adul'try, Adul'try, Semanthe,

Such a guilt, as were the Sluces of thy eyes let up,

Tears cou'd not wash it off.

Now turn thy eyes into thy hov'ring Soul,

And do not hope for life, wou'd Angells sing,

A Requiem at my Herse but to dispense

With my Revenge on thee, 'twou'd be in vain:

Prepare to dye.

Sem.

I will, most willingly,

But wou'd fain make my Innocence appear,

Dear Sir, upon my knees I do entreat you

To hear me speak before my Execution:

If I were that strange Monster you wou'd make me,

It were but Justice you shou'd take my life,

But here I swear by the Eternal Powers,

By all my hopes in Heav'n, I am not false,

Believe my tears.

King.

There's nothing of thee reall,

I'de been too happy if thou hadst been true:

The thrifty Heav'ns mingle our Sweets with gall,

Lest being glutted with excess of good,

We shou'd ungratefully forget the giver.

Sem.

O Sir—

King.

Be gone, take those Inchanting eyes away,

There's a bewitching Influence within

Those sparkling Circles, that unmans my Soul:

Sem.

Nay, if these eyes have Pow'r to make you kind,

[kneels.

They shall pursue you wheresoe're you go;

With their soft, humble▪ pleading, courting tears,

I'le weep 'em blind to quench your raging fires.

Dear Sir, indulge, Improve these sparks of pitty,

Mercy's the Glory of a Deity, subdue

Your wild desires, and that Heroick deed,

Is Nobler then the Conquest of a Kingdom;

But if you stain your hands with Guiltless blood,

Then think what dismall horrours wait on murder,

Woolves, Ravens, screech-Owls then will be your Guests,

[Page] And my pale Ghost will haunt your startling Sleeps,

Press your sad thoughts with loads more heavy then

The Pond'rous Marble that Entombs my ashes.

King.

By Heav'n I can no longer bear her sorrows,

Her watry eyes wou'd make a Tyger tame,

One accent of that tongue wou'd Calm the Seas,

Tho' all the Winds strove there at once for Empire▪

But Ha!

Where am I going? Stay my fleeting Glory,

I had design'd that great, that brave reveage,

As shou'd have fix'd my vast immortal fame,

High as a Monumentall Pyramid,

And hid its Tow'ring Top among the Clouds,

But thou false feind wou'dst shake my great Foundation:

Take thy face hence.

Sem.

O Sir?

King.

I'le hear no more.

Vanish false fire, bright Meteor disappear;

It is not safe for me to tarry here;

My mighty mind wou'd keep its sacred way,

But she strews Flow'rs to lead my Soul astray.

[Ex. King.

Manet Semanthe.

Sem.

Pitty me Heav'n, and view my wretched State,

Let me not undeserv'dly meet my fate,

O Change this frantick humour in the King,

His stragling sense to its first Station bring;

Calm his wild rage, let him his Errour see,

But if your doom decrees that I must dye,

Let when I'm dead my Innocence appear,

My spotless virtue to the World stand fair.

O grant his mourning pitty may but come,

And shed one tear on poor Semanthe's Tomb.

[Exit Weeping.

The End of the Fourth Act.

The Fifth ACT.

[Page]

SCENE I. A Pallace.

Enter King Solus.

King.

WHat's Nature, and the Pow'r that Governs it?

Man is the Puppet of the Gods, and moves—

Backwards and forwards as they please to dance him,

Now cou'd I laugh to find my self a fool,

And yet be mad to think I can't be otherwise:

Where's all my blust'ring Roaring Storm against

Semanthe? hush'd, and Calm'd, and all because

Her tears had Pow'r to charm me into fondness?

My great Foundation's laid in sand, one minute

Fierce as Incount'ring Lyons, and the next,

I'm tamer then the meekest Beast they Prey on.

Enter Menaphon.

Men.

Good morning to the King, my Royal Master:

May health, and happiness for ever wait you;

O may you never know one hour of sorrow,

May sweet content dwell ever in your breast,

And all your days and Nights be fill'd with Joys

Equall to those the bless'd above possess.

King.

I thank thee Menaphon for thy kind wishes,

But oh they're what I never must expect:

Alass! I am a thing the World does laugh at,

And all those Clouds, those dark and dismall Clouds,

Which bar the Sun from shining on my misery,

Will never be chased off 'till I am dead.

Men.

The Gods forbid; O do not name your death,

My Loyall heart weeps tears of bloud to hear it:

Alas my Lord, I thought e're this t' have seen,

A Riotous Pleasure Rev'ling in your eyes,

To think how bravely you'd reveng'd your wrongs;

I thought t' have heard you say, come Menaphon,

Now thou sha't see I am a King again:

The Snake I long had foster'd in my breast,

[Page] Is Crush'd, th' Adulterate Queen is now no more.

King.

O why my friend? why shou'd that fair one dye?

The Modell of the Heav'ns, the Earth, the Waters;

The Harmony and sweet consent of time,

Are not so beautifull in their Creation,

As is Semanthe: shall I throw away

A Jewell, Empires are to poor to purchase;

What tho' she's faulty, look but on her face,

Oh there's that Expiating brightness there,

As Guilds o're all the Sables of her Soul,

And all her faults and spots are seen no more.

Men.

Why lives she still then?

King.

Yes my friend, she does:

'Tis true I went with fix'd resolves to kill her;

But when I came (Oh who can paint the Scene!)

I saw the beauteous Creature all in tears,

A winking Lamp was burning by her side;

Her Pallace was become a loathsome Jayl,

Nought but infectuous damps were her Companions:

I saw her on her knees a while unmov'd,

But Oh at last I cou'd no longer hold,

By a long siege of tears she calm'd my fury,

And I had not the power to give the Blow:

O Menaphon the keen edg'd Sword of Justice,

I held advanc'd in air, but O her eyes,

There shot that Lightning from those beauteous Heav'ns,

That th' Angry Steel was melted down before 'em.

Men.

I'm glad to find such mercy dwells within you,

I must confess the Chiefest of my wishes,

Is, she may live, but give me leave to think,

I blot my Loyalty in wishing it.

For O what Floud can ever wash away,

The stain that hangs upon your honour Sir?

Consider but the talk of other Nations,

When they shall hear (as this can be no secret,)

How your own eyes beheld your Queens dishonour,

Saw her in the Embraces of a Traytor.

And after that you could sit tamely down,

Without a dire Revenge for the black deed,

'Twill make your little name blown round the World,

The Forregn shame, and your own Subjects scorn.

[Page]King.

Oh! thou hast stung me to the very Soul,

It must, it will be so; methinks I see

How the proud haughty King of Sicilly,

Devours the welcome news of my dishonour,

Oh she must dye, she must, by Heav'n she shall,

Nay, dye a publick Spectacle to the World,

And her vile Minion too, curss'd Ithocles

Shall bear her company, this very day

I'll sign an order for their Execution,

And let it be your care to see it perform'd.

Men.

Nay, now you bend too much the other way,

This is short warning for departing Souls,

For pitties sake Sir, let 'em live till Morn.

King.

Round me you furies that delight in mischief,

And ever keep me waking till the Cliffs,

That over-hangs my light, fall off and leave

These hollow spaces to be cramm'd with dust,

If I do either eat or drink, or sleep,

Till I have finish'd my great just revenge.

Men.

Well Sir, I will no more strive to diswade you,

But what death wou'd you have Semanthe die,

King.

Ha! By the Gods, a Question worth disputing,

And it would puzzle an ingenious Artist

T'invent a way to kill her, for by fire

Or water 'tis impossible to do't,

Betwixt her falshood and her flowing Lust,

She is too rank to burn, too light to drown,

Nay, shou'd I bury the incarnate Monster

Like the slain Gyants under Piles of Mountains,

Her dust like Aetna's flames, wou'd burst through all.

Take thy own method, let me see her dead,

I care not how.

Men.

Well Sir, I'll do my best,

I must confess I wou'd not have her live,

For the respect I bear to my Royal Master,

Therefore I hope you will not change your mind,

King.

O never, never shalt thou See me chang'd,

Thou'lt rouz'd a sleeping Lyon, whom no art,

Nor any thing can e're reclaim but blood.

Where was before my blinded folly driven,

Mercy, what art thou? get thee back to Heaven.

What has the race of man to do with thee?

Leave humane minds to nobler passions free.

[Page] Hence forward Death and Ruin Reign alone,

Make Hell your Vassal, and the world your Throne.

[Ex. King.]

Manet Menaphon.

Men.

'Tis done, the fatal Train has taken fire,

I'll follow him, least he should change again,

By Heav'n I am all extasie to think

Of the long prosp'rous chain of our success.

Once by thy doom proud Queen, the very breath

That durst repeat the sound of love, was death,

But oh the pleasure of revenge to dart

Thy own Retorted threats, on thy own heart,

Yes, thou hast scorn'd me Queen, but know the wrongs

Of slighted love shall knit their Scorpion thongs,

Whilst each disdainful step thou dost retire,

Thou tread'st on Graves, and walk'st o're Piles of Fire.

[Ex. Men.]

SCENE II.

Enter Meleander and Lattinius.

Mele.

Why do I live with such a load of sorrow?

Oppress'd with tortures of dispairing Love;

A Sisters shame, my families dishonour,

Oh my Lattinius! Can this weight be borne?

I went to see the false one, and resolv'd

To have dy'd my self in her polluted Blood,

But when the Prison door I wou'd have enter'd,

My trembling Joynts refus'd to bear me farther;

My Ominous Nostrils gush'd forthe Streams of Purple,

And to my thinking, all the Heavns appear'd

Like blazing Meateors hanging o're my head;

When straight a hollow voice had reach'd my ears,

Crying alloud, thy Sister's innocent;

'Twas surely more then the effects of fancy,

I left the place, and to my Chamber went,

Stretch'd on the Floor, and wash'd the Ground with tears;

My Sisters shame had left my memory,

And more distracting thoughts did enter in me;

Marcelia's scorn came fresh into my mind,

And to my wretched poor tormented Soul,

Set yawning, kneen devouring Fate before me,

In her most dreadful black, and hideous form.

[Page]Lat.

I grieve to see your wond'rous discontent,

And needs must own an equal share with you,

For ev'ry sigh that comes from your sad Breast,

Whole streams of Blood flow from my tender Heart▪

Mele.

O my poor Boy! Why, why art thou thus kind?

Since fair Marcelia will not pitty me,

I wou'd have all the World abandon me.

Enter Marcelia crosing the Stage.

See where she comes, what means my trembling Heart?

I'll meet her, though her frowns should strike me dead.

[Mele. kneels before Mar. as she's going off.]

Oh cruel Beauty! e're you move from hence,

Hear me one word, and I shall dye in Peace,

Behold me at your Feet, behold my sorrows.

[She offers to go.]

O do not leave me, hear me first, O hear me;

Think of the Pangs dispairing lovers feel,

Think of the torments I endure for you,

That do with such indiff'rency look on me.

Mar.

Alass my Lord, why should you talk to me?

To one that has already been deceiv'd,

O shall I e're believe a man again,

Since Ithocles, he whom I thought the best,

Proved false.

Mele.

Then why should you still love him?

Rather revenge his falshood, pitty me,

And place your love on one that more deserves;

On him, whose heart, whose Soul is all your own,

And ne'er can be anothers.

Mar.

So he swore,

And I fond fool believ'd it to be true,

But when he found my Heart was fixt to his,

My constant love so firm e're to be chang'd.

The Vows, the Oaths he made to Heav'n and me,

He forfeited, and gave his Soul away.

Then wou'd you have me trust a man again?

No, you bless'd powers, rather let me be plac'd

In a wild Desert 'mongst a herd of Beasts;

The Wolf, the Tygre, and the spotted Leopard,

Are less devourers then faithless Men,

You may as soon call back the Sun, stay time,

[Page] Prescribe a Law to death, as ever find

One true of all your perjur'd Sex.

A man! The very name is monstrous,

Nay, even the Breath that utters the vile sound,

Flies like infection over all the Air.

Mele.

Why shou'd you thus condemn the Sex for one?

Mar.

For one! for all; Oh you are all the same:

All of one faithless lineage, form, creation,

Like twins in infidelity, each feature,

And ev'ry vein fill'd up with the same falshood;

The Syrens Songs, the Crocodiles false tears

Are less deceitful then the oaths of men.

Mele.

Hear me mistaken beauty, by yon Heaven,

The words of Angels are not more sincere,

Then what I speak, my love as fix'd and firm

As Rocks of Adamant.

Mar.

Hear me my Lord, and hear me you bless'd powers,

To that false Image of your selves call'd man,

To you, and all your Sex I bid farewel,

My fix'd resolves stand a decree of Fate;

Therefore no more endeavour to diswade me,

For when I do consent to love again,

May he I love with loath my hate, receive me,

Eternal discord, raise her bar between us.

May I his love, as you do mine pursue,

And he fly me, as thus I fly from you.

[Ex. Mar.]

Mele.

Then farewel Life, and all my pains at once,

For by the Gods I'll not outlive thy hate,

Lattinius, if the love thou own'st be real,

When I am dead, do me this Courtesie,

Bear to this cruel Woman my last words,

And let her know, my love to her was true.

Lat.

O Sir, upon my knees I do intreat you,

Yet harbour patience, who knows, she may change;

'Tis certain Sir, that Ithocles must dye,

And time may turn this resolution from her;

The Ephesian Matron for a while was constant,

And wash'd her Husband's Grave with truest tears,

But at the last, quite tir'd with useless sorrow,

She did receive a Lover to her Arms;

Marcelia may do this, she is but a woman,

And subject to the frailties of her Sex.

Mele.

I cou'd, I hope she ever cou'd be moved

[Page] With endless patience I cou'd wait the time,

Outlive th' old Patriarchs age, in love, grow hoary

At her dear feet, and wear like Aetna's top,

My Fire, and Snow together.

Lat.

Doubt not my Lord.

Enter Bassanes.

Bas.

I beg you'd pardon my unwelcome news,

The Queen your Sister Sir—

Mele.

Why, what of her.

Bass.

Must dye this day.

Mele.

'Tis well.

Bass.

My Lord—

Mele.

'Tis well.

Wou'd in the Cradle sh'ad resign'd her breath,

What death Bassanes?

Bass.

Sir behind the Pallace.

The King decrees that she shall dye by fire,

Mele.

By fire! is that her doom? Well, 'tis decreed,

Semanthe thou shalt sleep, though but in ashes,

Leave me Bassanes, and Lattinius leave me.

Lat.

Sir I cannot leave you.

[Ex. Bass.]

Mele.

What saist thou boy?

Lat.

Indeed I dare not leave you.

Your Clouded brow foretells some storm at hand,

And I much fear 'tis on your self 'twill fall,

Your Sisters Death is strongly working in you,

And makes me dread the fatal Consequence.

Mele.

Thou art mistaken boy, my Sisters death,

I meet with all serenity and calmness;

For if she's guilty, 'twould be most unfit,

A thing so Leprous, shou'd infect the Earth,

If innocent, those Pow'rs that take her hence,

For all her wrongs, her Thorny Coronets,

Her bleeding Veins, and her more bleeding fame,

Have those bright Jemms in an immortal Crown,

What vast reserve of Glories to adorn her,

In the bright Realm of everlasting day,

As more then all her Losses shall repay.

Lat.

What then disturbs you?

Mele.

My dispairing love.

Lat.

It may not long be so.

[Page]Mele.

I fear for ever.

Then why should'st thou expect that I will live,

When by my violent Pains too sure I find,

Slaves at an Oar have greater ease then I,

Hard'ned to Labours they their Pains defie,

Dispair in Love's the only misery.

We with fresh Agonies our Souls torment,

View the bright Tracks where th' adored Beauty went,

And with fresh Pains our endless Plagues deplore,

To think our setting Sun will rise no more.

[Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE III. A Wood.

Enter Orgillus.

Org.

Where e're I go my Conscience still persues,

And the pale Figure of the dead Armena

Is ever in my view; 'twas not well done,

So ill to gratifie, the woman lov'd me,

Besides, I only fear'd she might discover

What I my self am now inclin'd to do.

The Queen this day must dye a publick death,

'Tis not too late, I yet may save her from it.

[Horns and Huntsmen at a distance.

What noise is that! the ecchoing cries of Huntsmen,

Alas! the hunted Stagg himself, that flies

From all those open Mouths of death behind him,

Is not alarm'd with my pursuing horrors;

He has but a Life, but I a Soul in danger.

Enter Menaphon behind.

Men.

Thus far I [...]ve watch'd my Brother, whose sad thoughts,

I fear, bodes Ruin to our great design.

I find his foolish Conscience does perplex him,

And dare not trust my 'Life in the weak hold

Of Consciencious hands, although a Brothers.

He that would manage Glorious mischief safe,

Shou'd guide his rouling Chariot like the Sun,

And singly hold the mighty Reins alone:

Into his Seat no aiding Partner call,

Lest the misguideing Phaeton hazard all.

[Page]Org.

Shou'd I discover it, and save her Life,

And the King's Mercy too shou'd grant me mine,

Where then is Menaphon? What must he dye?

What an ungrateful wretch shou'd I be counted,

To leave my Brother tangled in the snare,

When I my self have pow'r to keep him out.

But yet the violent love that the King bears

To beautiful Semanthe is so great,

That shou'd I tell him all our Villany,

I might with ease make Covenants of safety,

And sign my own and pardon'd Brother's Life.

Menaphon comes forward.

Men.

Brother, with Joy I've heard your troubled Conscience,

And am well pleas'd your thoughts keep pace with mine.

O Brother! Brother! with such dreams of horrour,

Since poor Armena's death, my fancy's plagu'd,

That had not your Remorse of Conscience found you,

I shou'd alone have told it to the King.

Org.

How! My dear generous Brother.

Men.

Yes my Orgillus,

An Orient Beam of Penitence dawns within me,

The Shadows of my once benighted Soul

All vanish'd, and bright day breaks forth in Glory.

Org.

And is kind Heav'n this dear Conversion true?

Is my kind Brother—

Men.

Yes, see here a Profilite

[Kneels]

To Heaven, Religion, Honor, Piety,

Semanthe, the Innocent Semanthe, dye;

No, I will snatch her from the yawning Precipice,

And fix her righted Fame, and rescu'd Innocence,

On that Immortal Pyramide of Glory,

That the admiring. World with up lift Eyes,

And low bent Knees, shall pay their joyful tribute,

At her bless'd Restauration; with my own

Repenting Hand I'll twine, twine a rich Chaplet

Of Flowers, and Roses, and Eternal Sweets,

T' adorn her Sacred Brow.

Org.

O my Just Brother,

Now thou'rt all white again, most lovely fair;

O there's that Rapture in Divine Repentance,

No wonder it unlocks the Gates of Heav'n,

[Page] When Oh, there blows a Gale, a fragrant Gale

Of Persumes from the very Air it flies in.

That sure 'tis all a breath of Parradise:

And shall Semanthe live! come to my Arms,

O nearer to Breast.

Men.

Yes, to thy Heart—

[Stabs him.]

Org.

Villain, perfidious Villain, thou hast kill'd me.

Org. falls.]

Men.

Yes, lie there Pitty, my great Plot was found'ring,

And I have stop'd the leak.

Org.

Kis'd and Betray'd!

Embrac'd and Murther'd!

Men.

Yes, Religious Fool.

Thou wert too good for Earth, and I in pitty

Have kindly giv'n thee Heav'n, so sleep Conscience;

And now, wake, wake Revenge agen.

Org.

Oh, [Groans] Horns and Huntsmen agen.]

Men.

Ha! Company; Curse on this Interruption,

No matter, I am sure I have dispatch'd him,

And his short breath's too weak to hurt me now;

But let me prudently retire unseen:

My Face has danger in't, now dear, dear Vengeance.

[Ex. hastily drawing off Orgillus.]

SCENE IV. The Scene Changes.

Enter Guards making way for the Queen.

Guar.

Room there, bear back; room for the Queen.

Enter Semanthe in white, attended with six Ladies in Mourning; Bassanes, Guards, and Attendants.

Quee.

Kind Gentlemen, there needs not this formality,

I am past all State Ceremony now,

Alas, there's no distinction in the Grave,

The proudest Sovereign Head when laid in Dust,

Sleeps on as Course a Pillow as a Pesant's.

And Oh! there opes that narrow Gate to Heav'n,

That Majesty it self must stoop as humbly

For ent'rance there, as the poor crawling Cottager.

Well Gentlemen, you come to see me die;

[Page] To see the scatter'd ashes of your Queen,

Blown round the spreading Globe, but oh! my friends,

Cou'd but my spotless Soul be seen as plainly,

Oh! to the utmost corners of the Earth,

The sounding Trump of my immortal innocence,

Wou'd fill Fame's swelling vollume with a story,

So full of woe, and that unequal fate,

As tender drowning eyes wou'd melt to read,

And the hard cause of poor Semanthe dead,

Even distant worlds, and pittying ages plead.

[Exit Omn.

SCENE V.

The Scene drawn, discovers a great many Spikes fix'd in the Ground, and a high Battlement above it.

Enter King Menaphon, Meleander, Guards and Attendants.

King.

Brother, I sent for you to see a justice

Done on the Monster that has wrong'd us both,

Haste Amyclas, and bring the viper forth.

[Ex. Amyclas.]

Re-enter Amyclas with Ithocles, chain'd in's Shirt and Drawers, a night Gown over'em, Guarded.

Itho.

My death you have decreed, and Heaven permitted,

But know mistaken King, I wear a Soul

So free from that black charge for which I dye,

That at my Launch into Eternity,

I shall soare lighter then a mounting Angel,

And smile above, when thou false Menaphon

Sha't grin below; and though I leave the world

In poor deluded eyes, and Popular breath,

A Cank'red bloated thing, the hour will come,

When Fame's Recanting Trump shall sound my innocence.

Murder may hush, and guiltless blood may flumber,

But oh they never sleep, the hour will come,

When the story of my Fate, aud the dark Leagues,

And black Caballs against Semanthe's Honour,

And both our lives shall be all, all disclosed,

Whilst our amazing murther turns, a spectre

Shall fright you with the form.

King.

I'll hear no more.

[Page] I came not here to have my Royal justice

Arraign'd, but executed, guilt so harden'd,

As durst offend like thee, can never want

A forehead too, as hard'ned to deny it.

Take him away, by Heav'n my feeble rage

[Ex. Guards with Itho. the Scene shuts.]

Is plumed with Down, and falls like feather'd snow,

But rowze my Bolts of Fate, and murder'd Love,

Thy sleeping furies wake—but oh Semanthe,

Though this avenging Sword my honour draws,

Proud of the Justice, yet I mourn the cause,

And oh! though pleas'd I send thee to the Grave,

I live to kill, what I wou'd dye to save.

Enter Lattinius hastily, and kneels to the King.

Lat.

Oh Sir!

As you'd secure your everlasting peace,

And dearer Soul, and guard a groaning Kingdom

From the impending plagues of guiltless blood,

Save, save Semanthe's Life.

King.

What means the Boy?

Lat.

By the bright Guardians of the Throne she's innocent;

Oh injur'd Sir! that shame of the Creation,

[Pointing to Meda.]

Th' incarnate Devil Menaphon in a Wood,

Has babourously butcher'd his own Brother,

Who found by Huntsmen in his gasping Pangs,

Had just Remains of Life, enough to open

That most infernal Mass of Forgery;

Against the vertuous Queen's immaculate Honour,

Men.

Sure the youth raves.

Lat.

By Heav'n my Lord, 'tis true,

But fly, and save her life e're 'tis too late,

Then lend your Leizure to the hideous story,

Prepare your eares to ake, and Soul to tremble.

King.

Haste Amyclas, and stop the Execution.

Lat.

Oh fly Sir, with a posting Angels speed,

An Angel to redeem.

[To Amyclas as he's going off.]

[Ex Amy. running.]

Orgillus wounded, brought in by Huntsmen, Menaphon starts.

Men.

Ha! my Brother,

Vengeance and Hell, my Plots are all unravell'd,

Curse on my erring hand.

[Aside.]

[Page]Org.

Save, save the Queen.

Oh Sir she's innocent, her spotless truth,

White as our Souls are black, my Trayt'rous Brother,

And wicked self by false Armena's help,

Mixt a Lethargick potion for the Queen,

And Ithocles; and in the operation

Of the curst sleeping Drugg, we lay'd 'em senceless,

Clasp'd Arm in Arm, all Artifice and delusion,

To rob you of your peace, and her her life.

Men.

Thou cack'ling, craven slave.

[Draws and runs at him, is seiz'd by the Guards]

King.

Disarm the Traytor,

Go on my dying Penitent.

Org.

Alass!

I cannot more, Armena's murder'd Ghost

Raises a sullen fame from nights dark coast,

[Diet.]

My sence grows dim, and in a mist I'm lost.

King.

Hah! dead!

Is the stupendious tale of horrour done?

And dost thou Monster live to heat it?

Men.

Yes,

And doubly damn'd I did not live to act it.

King.

Thou art a Traytor of so black a die—

But haste, unbind the Guiltless Ithocles,

Bid him come down to meet a Flood of Honour;

The Acclamations of an Ecchoing Kingdom,

And the Rewards of a repenting King.

[Ex. an Attendant.]

But for thee Monster.

[To Menaphon.]

Men.

Call your self that Monster,

For such I'd made you, had my Plot succeeded;

But since the proud Semanthe's scorn has given me

That stroke of Fate, that all her bolts beyond it,

Will prove but edgless Plagues, I dare thy worst;

Know I defie at once both Hell and thee.

King.

Damnation, was there ever Dungeon, Jayle

Or Gibbet that cou'd match this hardn'd Infidel,

But do I talk and let the Villain live,

Away with him,

And his own snare, be his own fate, the doom

Of Ithocles see executed instantly

On that Infernal slave, but yet thou devil

So Grand, thou'rt fitter to be Lucifer's

Tormenter then he thine, repent and save,

If possible, thy bloated Soul;

[Page]Men.

Repent! a Scull which has for Ages lain i'th' Earth,

Shall sooner Pray then I. I do Repent

I've mist my ends; for had that piece of Pride,

Ended her hated Life, in scorching flames

I wou'd have borne the hottest plagues of Hell,

Rattled the Chains of my Internal Goal,

As Peals of Joy that I had left thee here,

With greater torments than I felt below.

Have smil'd to think on thy distracted Soul,

And laught when all the damn'd besides did howl.

[Exit Men. Guarded.

King.

Most hiddeous Villain,

Was slighted Lust then

The lighting Fire-brand to this Hellish Train.

[Enter Queen attended

Ha! by my wrongs that Injur'd Beauty lives!

My Joys like rustling Winds lockt up in Caves,

Do bustle for a Vent. Oh! to my breast,

Yet Closer, Closer thou dear banisht Peace,

Torrents of Extasies, transporting Joyes.

But oh! Divinest Innocence, is there

That Beam of mercy in th' Immortal Treasury,

As can forgive my faults?

Queen.

Name 'em no more;

My Joy, to find you know my Innocence,

Makes me forget that I was ever wrong'd;

Nay, had I dyd 't had pleased my murder'd Ghost,

To see my vertue to the World Proclaimed.

[Enter Marcelia.

King.

But see, Marcelia! Oh what Recompence

Is there in Nature for the wrongs I [...]ve done thee?

Mar.

Most Royal Sir, there is a Recompence,

Wou'd Cancel all the Injuries was done

To me, and to th' unhappy Ithocles.

Queen.

I know thy meaning, and I hope Marcelia,

The King will not deny his free Consent.

[Enter Ithocles Attended.

Mel.

[Aside.]

I fear her meaning tends to my destruction.

King.

Oh thou bright worthy!

Come to my Arms; my Arms; Oh no, that Circle

Is too Unhallow'd to Infold such Goodness.

No let me first deserve t' embrace thee, take

This fair Attonement for the wrongs I've done thee.

Itho.

Oh my Exalted bliss!

[Gives him Marcelia.]

[Page]Mel.

And my Confusion.

[aside.]

Remember Sir the Promise of a King,

It was to me you gave Marcelia.

King.

Ah!

Take heed bold man, croak that loath'd sound no more.

I have rewarded Virtue, and crown'd Love;

And if before, to my unprincely shame,

I promised ought to wrong this faithful Pair,

Perhaps that guilty Promise drew down Heav'n against me?

And 'tis just I have appeas'd

The wrath of that black Sin.

Mar.

No, Meleander.

Persue not hopeless Love, nor tempt the frown

Of Heaven by cherishing a lawless Fire;

No, take this worthier and kinder Beauty,

[gives him Statilia.

No more Lattinius, but the fair Statilia.

Omn.

Statilia!

Itho.

Ha! my Sister.

Stat.

Yes my Brother.

The same unhappy Maid—

Mar.

Transform'd by Love;

But take her to your Arms and hide her Blushes,

She's Love that can deserve you, though I want it

King.

Brother and Friend, [for he that weds our Favour

In fair Statilia, I must call him both]

Accept this Present from my hand,

[giving Stat.

Queen.

And mine,

To bind the Royal Seal.

Mel.

My Heart heaves up, and struggles in my Breast,

When I but look on fair Marcelias Face,

But she is lost to me, for ever lost;

And one more kind there is that seeks my Love,

I will no more persue a hopeless Game,

But fix my Heart on her that has deserv'd it.

[aside.

Oh! on my knees Statilia let me beg

[to her.

A Pardon for the Injuries I've done thee;

Accept a Heart that now is all thy own.

[Enter Mr. Harris.]

The Scene drawn discovers Men. Executed, being flung from a Battlement upon Spikes.

Bass.

According to your Majesties Command,

The Traitor Menaphon received his doom.

[Page]King.

Behold Semanthe, the curst Instrument

Of all our Woes.

Queen.

Remove the dismal sight—

[the Scene shuts.

He was a Villain, and a cruel one

Yet I cou'd freely have forgiven him.

King.

Thou beauteous Miracle of woman kind,

Let all the Kingdom share my mighty Joy!

Brother, Marcelia, Ithocles, Statilia,

Was ever man redeem'd like me from ruin,

O what a Precipice have we escap'd!

How near we all were to the Gulph of Ruin,

Till thou, blest Soul, brought us this Halcyon Gale.

Lat.

The great Reward does far exceed my hopes.

[Aside.

King.

Oh! give me leave,

As one, that wearied with the Toil at Sea,

And now on wisht for Shore has fixt his feet,

He looks about, and glad's his Thoughts and Eyes

With sight o'th' green cloath'd ground and leafy Trees:

So let me gaze agen on those dear Eyes,

Nothing but kisses to thy Lips discourse.

Oh! My Semanthe, to my Arms return,

Where loves rekindling Fire shall brighter burn,

Whilst all the wrongs to Beauty so Divine,

Shall be but foils to make the Diamond shine.

[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

[Page]

Writ by Mr. Mountsort, Spoken by Mrs. Butler in Mans Apparel.

OUR Scribler could not find a better way,

Then singling me a Champion for his Play,

My Manhood and his Wit are much at one,

The want of both in us are too well known;

Excuse him, 'tis his Tryal, just such another,

As some poor under-witted elder Brother,

Whose hasty Father did young Bride Beleaguer,

And got the Honey-moon weak Brat too eager,

Faith Gentlemen be kind to his first born,

I may perhaps do you as good a turn;

Be not too harsh you Critticks of the Pit,

To damn his Play wou'd look like spite, not wit,

"See't but three days, and fill the House the last,

"He shall not trouble you again in haste;

"Besides, each Creditor he has is here,

"And if your Actions seem to him severe,

"They'll bring all theirs against him, that they swear;

"Ladies, on you his chiefest hopes rely,

"Your Goodness may command their Courtesie,

"None dare oppose whatever you esteem,

"If then they're cruel, may you prove so to them,

"'Tis Charity, when begg'd to give relief,

"If not, we must put on with Irish Brief,

"And as at Church, the Gatherers stand at Door,

"So ours with Plates shall Cry,

Pray Remember the Poor.

These Lines were spoken the third day, in the Room of the last thirteen Lines.

He thanks the goodness of his this days Friends,

You've fill'd the House, and he has gain'd his ends.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The treacherous brothers a tragedy, as it is acted by Their Majesty's servants at the Theatre-royal / written by George Powell.

Powell, George, 1658?-1714.

Edition statement

1690

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A55546

ID [STC]

Wing P3056

ID [STC]

ESTC R37128

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

16219547

ID [OCLC]

ocm 16219547

ID [VID]

105121

Availability

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

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A55546)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 105121)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1599:11)

Source

— The treacherous brothers a tragedy, as it is acted by Their Majesty's servants at the Theatre-royal / written by George Powell., Powell, George, 1658?-1714., Bayly, Thomas, d. 1657? Herba parietis..

Extent

[8], 62, [1] p.

Printed for James Blackwell ... and sold by Randal Taylor ...,. London :: 1690.. (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.) (The main incident is taken from Bayly's "Herba parietis, or, The wallflower.") ("Epilogue. Writ by Mr. Mountfort, spoken by Mrs. Butler in mans apparel": p. [1] at end.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.