SO, dispatch, dispatch, what wines are those?

The late present from the Merchants.

Tis well.

Are all things ready fellowes? the King' son entring. 1 They are my Lord.

Ha, ha, ha, no happinesse like the Fooles, Comastes?

No, none Sir, hees mirth it selfe, and the cause of it in others, they say all pleasure is a shadow, then that which wee enjoy is but the shadow of a shadow, hardly the Picture of what he imbraces; our Delights are faint, thwarted by the Conscience, started with feares, and after an hower of pleasure a weeke of repentance; in which time wee live by rule, and not by custome, laugh not though the jest bee good, nor rage though at a just cause; but sickly whisper out our sayings, as though they were our last and eate our chickens with the curtaines drawne, when the Foole lusts with his whole soule too, and sinnes till hee's weary, knowes no Conscience but his want that way; nor remorse but disability.

Hah, ha, ha.

Nature never shewed her liberality more than to those she was sparing of her best gifts to, shee houses wisedome in a body full of decayes, and requires her whole strength to beare off the ruine, measures his legges with the spiders, gives him pale and wan lookes, scarce altered from the earth hee was made of, where to the Ideot she bestowes a body equall with the bulke of trees, and armes as Thunder-proofe, makes him a strong, a large, and healthy foole.

Ha, ha; ha.

Fit Lectures for such a Sholler.

Well Comastes, thou shalt not want for a coate, if that will doe't.

Send me a minde to with it, and you have not a grea­ter present for your neighbour Princes.

Wee may chance to finde one out for Funeralls.

A health to all, and a long peace.

You are mellancholly Aratus.

You are rude Comastes, and let me tell you—

His Lordship is one of those which say their Prayers backward for the State, and ends in black wishes.

You are the Foxes that thrive by it.

Phro. Aratus your anger is unseasonable, and the King marks it.

How now Aratus, whats the matter? our table should know no frownes, then least of all when we our selfe forbeares them.

Royall Sir I aske your pardon, hee wakt mee something rudely, and got a froward answer.

What, all dead, fill another round, our wine moves not, [Page] here Polyander, to thee, what thinkst thou of Comastes happines?

I thinke Sir, 'tis as dull as foolish, there cannot bee a sence of pleasure, where there is so little sence. Greatnesse is the center of all happinesse, and felicity like our lands, at first is ty­ed to the Crowne, kings come nere unto the gods, and are like them both in power and pleasure, doe command all, enjoy all, are miserable onely in too much, and want but what to wish for, this is the dazeling happinesse. Tis vaine therefore to pre­ferre private joyes before the Crowne-pleasures, the King may throw by his greatnesse when he please, and be poorely happy, the beggar will nere sigh unto a Scepter.

Why I Polyander ther's some life in this, a little heaven even in the apprehension. Aratus art not thou of this opinion?

Very grave and unseasonable, thus your Lordship gets the reputation of singularity, which the vulgar suspect to be wisedome.

Sir, you see how this place and my freenes are injurd.

Mirth, onely mirth Aratus, he meanes 'twould better become a counsaile than a banquet.

Timeus welcome, nay, keepe your seates, would thou hadst beene partaker of our sports.

When that my actions or mine age shall make mee worthy of your ease [Page] and pleasures, I shall be a thankefull sharer, but till then, your troubles will become me better than your sports, and cares will sit more lovely on my brow than roses. Sir, those that are a­bout you seeke to drowne your virtues.

Your Lordship meanes none here?

I name none here my Lord.

Nay Timeus thou nere lookst friendly on our pleasures

I must confesse Sir, I had rather see you bloody than thus wet, nor are my wishes impious: Poliander?

My Lord:

Sir, when you shall finde or make a cause, Ile put them on againe, here theyle but sowre the entertainment.

You see, my Lord, they are not drownd, they live still under water.

Like thine, beast.

Prithee Timeus let us enjoy our mirth while the gods give it, the time will come that we shall wish for it, and not have it; on my Conscience thou wishest for enemies that thou mightst cut them off.

I am sorry I have offended against your mirth, twas not my intent, I came to bring you newes.

Newes, what is't good?

Tis as you shall esteeme on't, Sir, Theres a Stranger [Page] Prince arriv'd.

Hither?

Yes Sir, his visits forc't by a storme as he pretends.

What ere the occasion bee, hee shall bee welcome. The time's farre spent. Aratus it shall be thy imployment, from us fairely salute the Prince, and tell him though the Seas have been unfriendly, the land shall court him.

Great sir you highly honor me.

So, now we have time to speake, what thinkst thou Aratus of these passages?

Well, bravely well.

Your speech strooke desperatly at the King, hee will not swallow it without some touch of Iealousie.

While the fruit [...] thus ripe, why doe we let it grow?

And spoile perhaps.

We will not longer, onely a little ceremony detaines us, to crowne our King, that past, our actions, and our thoughts shall then contend in motion.

How sped your visit to the young Prince?

You forgot your message to the Prince.

O tis true, our next part is to delight our selves in do­ing something, pray beare me company, we may get thankes for it another day.

Harpastes?

Melampus?

Are wee onely scap'd?

I hope so.

Then the storme has plaid the hangman, and sav'd us innocent.

Innocent? what's that? it has sav'd us so much labor and a broken head perhaps.

The wracke was great and full of horror.

How the rogues praid, and rored above the waves, vowed whole heards of offerings for their safetie. But Nep­tune sav'd em charges and tooke the verger beasts.

Wee scapt miraculously.

I hope youle burne no bullocks to the Sea.

No, my vowes were of another nature, I vowd [Page] To live well, and chang'd my bloody purpose.

Thou didst not meane in earnest?

I did then, but I no sooner toucht the shore and safety but my old thoughts returnd.

Come weele goe claime our hire, and sweare wee kild him before the storme, our fellowes dead pay will fall to us, weele demand for losses, I, and our dangers too.

If mine eyes deceive mee not, here comes one will deny the payment.

Tis he, be resolute and follow me.

How now friends, amazde at what's past: dangers ore­blowne are dreames, no more to bee esteem'd of, within this houre you would have given a world to stand thus, were it yours, let not smaller losses then afflict you, the greatest goods are trifles after such deliverance, our birth day was not halfe to us so happie as is this minute, then wee had no sense of life, now we perceive and ioy in't.

What mov'd these villaines hatred? sure they know me not, nor did I ere see them before this voyage, they could not hope for money, there's more in't, heres a paper which

may chance to tell me something, by this I see they are mur­therers, what's here, a beard and haire? blacke patches, sure tis their trade they are so furnish'd, both of the same pro­fession.

In the name of wonder what art thou?

Why? what am I Sir?

Nay, I know not, not does any but an Antiquary or a Conjurer, certainely thou art no man, or if beest, I am sure, none of the last Edition.

Were your troope absent I'de make you finde, I were without those helpes, 'twas so long since you saw a man, a true one, that you know not when you meet one, your Lordships glasse shewd you none this morning.

Whence cam'st thou?

I, that i'de faine know, heeres no hole open In the earth.

From Sea.

From the bottome of it I thinke, theres nothing like thee above water.

Of what profession art thou, a Souldier?

Yes.

Thou shouldst be hang'd for thy very lookes, if thou wert not, they are excusable in no calling else.

These are some insolent scoffers which breath their wits on all they see weaker then themselves against they meete the foole next, I wrong my selfe to talke with 'em.

Dost heare?

None of your wit yet.

Thou bleedest!

Was it that made me such a wonder? I doe so.

And much blood is spilt upon the ground knowst thou the cause?

Yes, I was assaulted by two ranke rascalls which I let blood and cured?

Hast thou not killd, and rob'd 'em?

S ^r. your thoughts are base, and you doe ill thus to insult upon mine innocence. Robd 'em? monyes more be­low my thoughts then Earth, my education hath beene noble, and though the Mid-wife lapt me not in Purple, nor Princes gossipt at my birth, I have dard to bee as honest as the richest, my word hath commanded more then all your Land or mony. Those deeds which I have donne, dishonestly dard not to have lookt on, they would have frighted your Lordship if but told you towards bedd time.

I never saw such feircenesse.

I begin to admire this fellow.

Where hast thou bestowed 'em?

Behind there, if you search 'em you may finde more, if they had any mony the Sea washt them cleane on't before their deaths.

Why, were they cast away?

Yes, but it seemes they had a land-fate.

What's here; a roges Limbs, Beards: their two heads a peece.

Her's a Paper confirms them most notorious Vil­laines.

Sure I have seene some faces like them.

They were propper men.

They were so, didst kill them both alone,

I tould you once so, Iam no proud on't, to boast it ore againe, and tell you how I did it.

Trust me, thou art a brave fellow, and I admire thy stoutnesse, thou lookst as if thou hadst beene nurst in perills: darst thou withstand a bould one, but as honest as tis great? what sayst thou, canst thou like of us?

Thou shalt not finde us as we appeard at first.

While you talke thus I can, and in your busines if ho­nesty goe yoakt with danger: it cannot fright me then though it have more terror then Seamen faigne at their returne, or Cowards feares suggest, horred even unto a ly. I dare face it, and wager a life i'le conquer it.

Thy words goe high as Thunder.

Pardon my words if my actions prove as fatall.

I beleeve thee, and dare promise thou wilt doe won­ders, let me imbrace thee, thou art welcome to our friendship; mine eyes did looke on thee unworthyly before, methinks thart comely now, thy scarrs are so many graces, not set by an effiminate but by a manly and warlike Skill Busines calls us hence, thou shalt not part one minute from me, thy wound needs helpe, Come, thou shalt heale before me.

Have you commanded all the Marriners aboard each Captaine to his charge; bid the Souldiers fill the decks with their full numbers, and display their collours. Let nothing wanting that may add to the glory of the Navy.

S ^r there is not, all things are in their pride and height, the Captaines seeme to lend brightnes to the day, and like the Sunne throws raies, and light about them; nor lookes their gold lesse awfull then the Souldiers Steele, on the Ships ap­peare the joy and riches of a conquest, and yet keepes the strict­nesse of a joyning battell, there want's nothing to make a war­like [Page] like, princely and well commanded, Navy but your presence, S ^r.

I would not have them thinke us such poore men that we are drove to seeke for their releife, to due for bread, and water, but rather that wee come like Noble wooers, full of rewards and presents able to returne all favours wee receive, and equally to honor them which honor us. As great as they, It shall appeare hee that is master of such a Fleete, may Stile himselfe King, though Lord of nothing else.

The people flocke upon the shore, and with one voyce say you come to fetch their Princesse, you have more then their consents already you have their wishes too.

What's the matter?

Ther's a great Traine, it seemes from Court comming to your grace.

How nigh are they?

They are on entring my Lord.

Weele meete 'em.

S ^r. the King congratulates your safety and is glad of your arrivall, though the cause were dangerous, you would have oblig'd him much, S ^r. if you had beene bound for Creta.

The King is royall and chides me kindly, he binds a stranger ever to his Service.

His Majesty expects youle honor him with your [Page] presence this night at Court.

I shall wait upon him, but my Lord I must first desire, youle honour mee with your company a Ship-board, I shall not need to excuse a Souldiers entertainment, I doubt not but your Lordship knowes it well, plainnesse is halfe the praise on't.

Sir, you are the envie of our neighbour Princes, you so farre exceed them in a brave command. I nere was happie in the like sight before, and my Lord, they that can boast the strangest, have not seene one so common and so rare; your Navie lookes as if shee wore the spoiles of a whole Land, or came to buy them.

My Lord, youle make me proud, your presence yet will adde unto its glory.

Found dead upon the Shore?

I my Lord, throwne into a cliffe by certaine Fishermen.

Were they drown'd?

No my Lord, there were many wounds found upon their bodies, and yet their clothes were wet.

Tis strange, were there but two?

No my Lord.

That's stranger yet, reward the men, and command them make no further search, nor speake of it, let it dy with you too, doe yee heare?

The villaines have robd at their returne, and got their Deaths that way, I neere could spare them worse, the State stands in greater need of theirs, than of the sword of Justice. Rodia?

My Lord.

Is your Lady to be spoke with?

Alwayes my Lord by you, but now shee's comming forth.

Save you sweet sister.

O you are welcome Sir.

Sure Eudora, Venus and the Graces had their hands [Page] to day about you, you looke fairer than your selfe, and move in the Sphere of love and beauty. Cupid has taken his stand up in your eyes, and shoots at all that come before him; pray Venus he misse mee.

When begins your serious?

These are the sweet lookes that captivate the Prince in a free country, and this the dresse that must inchant him, ha?

There is no charme in't certainely, it pleasd mee the least of many, no, tis your faire Mistris which beares those Love-nets about her, if the Stranger scape her hee's safe.

Had better kill his father, and then gaze upon the spe­ctacle, than looke upon her with the eyes of love.

Nay then you are cruell, would you have him strong­ger then your selfe was? if he be guilty the same doome must light on you too.

But I have prevaild so farre that he shall be free from the Danger both of love and seeing, shee'l not bee there; nor must you make up his entertainement.

I was commanded to be ready and attend there.

But now the Commissions altered and runnes in a­nother sence.

I shall bee content to obey either. May I not know the cause?

You may, wee would not feed the Prince here with hopes to get a wife, this was the storme that drove him in, nor must you onely for this time forbeare his presence, but while he stayes; he is unworthy of you.

I doe not, I know thee strong, the honour of a King­dome may leane with safety on thee, but hee will linger here too long, besot the State with feastings, and in this ease give safety to treacherous undertakings, he must be usd ill, ther's rea­son for't.

Theres greater thoughts in hand than curious rules of Ceremony, if he send any present to you, returne it backe with scorne.

Pride is ill becomming, and hated by the next proud man.

Then take um and laugh at him.

No, where my thanks are too much, Ile rather returne gifts for gifts; I would be loth to have my faults reach further than my goodnesse.

Hee'l weare those gifts for favours.

They will not prove so, yet hee will deserve some as he is a stranger.

Not from you, rewards the State will give him, you heare my fathers will, you must not see him while he stayes.

I doe, and shall easily keepe that I doe not care to breake.

Farewell.

Must you be gone?

There's a little busines calls me.

If be but a little stay.

Onely the welcome of the Stranger.

I will, or at least Ile tell theeso when thou perswadst me thus. Farewell.

Is this your royall entertainment? a Common host would have given one as civill; shewne his guests their quarter, and then left them to stumble out againe; my receavers are all vanisht — An undeserving scorne will trouble me— neyther of the two Princes were in the traine; they might have trusted 'em, I could have gag'd a Kingdome for their security. The meanest things displease me not, if they are the fullest offerings of the place, and gratefully I can submit to the necessity: but where they are afforded I can relish nothing but the choysest, and looke on ought but what invites the gene­rall and first eye, here a continuall Spring and Harvest make but one season, no scarsity doth dwell but in their minds, and then I thinke my selfe neglected with the best things.

Was not the fellow drunke?

Now they begin to muster up againe, here I stand like one that learnes to make his first honor.

When comes the fourth? three of the Elements have past by simple and unmixt, Water, Earth and Ayre, livelier exprest than in a Masque: the fourth was in the Prince, hee singd my face with a complement. I am arriv'd among a stranger peo­ple, than ever I heard lyde of yet, at my returne I shall have undiscoverd story enough to fill a map, though the Land bee knowne, I have past some two degrees, and may lawfully ex­tend my lines to twenty, and fill the vacuity with monsters and Fish-heads.

Sir, by your favour, if your businesse call you not, pray let me intreat your company awhile.

Troth, an't like your Grace, I am in hast, in verie great hast, the King has sent for mee, and I know hee's thirsty till I come; I would your Grace were as resolute, and as well armd this way as I

you'd be the wellcomst man— Hee loves a royall Drunkard with admiration, hee never saw one yet but in a glasse. Sir, have you any businesse with him? you neede no other Oratour, than such as this, such a mouth, without a tongue, will perswade any thing; yet this is o'th least, fit onely for Phisicke-daies, when hee would not surfet, a meere toy that troubles the waiters with often filling, but I have one as high—heeres nothing to measure it by; twas that made mee so inward with him. I alwaies use to petition with it, tis bigger than any of his owne, and pleasd him a­bove measure; the first time hee saw it, hee commended the largenesse of my minde, and said it was a noble emulation in mee: hee has a Daughter Sir, a beautifull Lady, my hopes, unlesse some neighbour Prince doe reele betwixt us, your Grace comes the right way, hee hates a dry Inland traveller, but that you kisse the cup, and have too much bounce, and downe with him in you, which were things hee surseited on some fifteene yeares since, and still the very names turne his [Page] Stomacke, besides your Navy and attendants are too great, hee'd have esteem'd more on you, had they been fewer, enough onely to leane on, when you are oretaken, or if you had wan­ted those, and borrowed his unto your chamber it had beene better where hee findes worth, the pompe delights him not, your pardon Sir.

This is stranger than all, with what licence this fel­low abuses his Master, or speakes truths altogether, as unpar­donable; sure he has a pattent for't: I see I shall want names for all the monsters.

Though your grace are here a Strangor, I may de­mand of you where the King is?

If none know more than I, my Lord, you have lost your king.

Sure hee is not well, I hope hee is not, with a safe loyalty I may wish hee hath a dangerous cause rather than none, to take him from a Prince the first night of his arrivall in Court.

My Lord, I have found much honor in you, one that knowes to shew more civility to a Stranger than hee can de­serve, and onely are unhappie at this time in an unworthy choice, but if you still can continue this noblenesse, though the King frowne, I shall gladly make some stay, at least till I have satisfied a strangers curiosity, and may seeme rather to have left the place, than to have beene thrust from it.

Beleeve me (my Lord) both your entertainment, and this necessity, that you are drove to use so meane a service as mine, doth shame me much. Tis not the nature of this place to be thus uncivill, nor is tour custome, as it hath beene this day, to coope our Ladies up as if the sight were dangerous, their beau­ties will indure the Test: and we will put them too't; twas unkindly done, I know one looke of theirs would have given a wellcome to a young man above the greatest cost.

My Lord, you know to speake a pleasing language.

Wee have two Princesses Sir, few Kingdomes can shew such Jewells, but onely one is orientall, the other's arti­ficiall, but an excellent Iemme too; one of them, the true one, [Page] I doubt not but I have credit for to shew you, but tis not to bee purchast, that happy opportunity is alreadie past, and the now owner esteemes it above his wealth, his life, I, and his honour too.

Yet my Lord blesse me with the sight, I can rejoyce at so much excellence, though another doe possesse it, and no doubt as much of the owners felicity lies in others admiration, as in his owne possession.

All but jealous men thinke so, and they count them­selves robd of all happinesse in their wives another doth re­ceive, are as covetous of their beauties as manie husbands of their persons, thinke themselves cuckolded by a womans commendation. But, my Lord, Ile leave you, I was going to the Princesse before I met your grace. I know few words will gaine so easie a request, to morrow and daily Ile wait upon your Lordship.

Sir you have engaged Me your servant beyond my hope of freedome.

Nay, you must beare it patiently, my dominion ex­tends no further than these roomes, and beyond them I grant nothing: how will you endure the Strangers delayes, that thus hardly brooke his comming, the King in complement will not admit the winds to servesooner than a moneth, were that all his stay; but here must be Masques and triumphes before he goes, and the Subject yet not knowne for the one, nor orna­ments made for the other; perhaps a league must be concluded, and then I would not live to bee so old as to see the end on't, the meanest persons will require a moneth to fit themselves, a Prince cannot turne in lesse than a season.

May you not see the Garden, Madam?

No, nor the day, but through a window.

Wee'l petition to him under the title of distressed Damsells, that must passe the flower of their age in imprison­ment, unlesse hee'l travell to his owne, or some other Country, to gaine 'em freedome.

Madam, hee'l thinke wee are held by inchantment, that his absence, and not his sword must gaine our liberty. Faith wenches, what would you doe with such a servant [Page] that will lay commands on you, and be your Lord before Hi­men hath made him so?

Madam, I'de change him.

Leave him I would but change him's a harder matter, and will require more consideration, I have not the faith that I can worke so great a miracle as to perswad mine, to any thing he has not a minde to, and yet he sweares he loves me, as he loves a Kingdome.

You may beleeve him, Madam, you are his best Title were the Sword away.

Melissa broke loose, and gone to the shew.

No Madam, shees return'd.

Is she so, and what hath shee seene?

The scurviest entertainment, I did not thinke it pos­sible so short a time could have prepared one so ill, 'twas thought on before, and paines taken to order it so much for the worse: This was the first day that e're me thoughts the King and my Lord Timeus lookt like the Father and the Sunne, The King had on his old councell face, which all hope [...] he had forgot and this was the only time these many yeeres he should not have worne it, they both embrac'd the Stranger, as cold, and carelessely as if they had beene to fight after, this behavi­our in the great ones, was presently observed like a new fashion, and in an instant the whole traine was in, from the bravest to those which follow a fashion onely, when tis to leave off something, and then looke not as if they were hot: but wanting a cloake. Marry their wit's were not so change­able, as their faces, and having but one Sure of Complement, and that now unfashonable, they were faine to supply it with Leggs, and Silence.

How look't the Prince on their behaviour?

He look't much above it in my opinion, two foote higher then my Lord Timeus though not altogether so tall, these sower lookes were all the without-dore shew, which endeed in a solemne March, they returnd all into the Pal­lace,

the Strangers seemed rather to follow with a silent con­fent then an invitation; there the presse shoock me off to finde this out for your graces mirth, and at my returne, as I least [Page] expected, I found the Prince all alone where any body might have seene him for nothing, the Grecian, and the Trojan Captaines in the hangings were all his company, with whom hee seem'd well suited, had they beene alive his lookes were as challinging as theirs, and standing so, bred much comparison.

Know you the reason of this behaviour?

No Madam, yet if I would I might have learnt of many, indeed all could give a reason, those which onely from this occasion knew what belong'd to any the whole company were Polliticians, there was one Yeoman, Statesman informd most about him, and left them to write his letters for certaine newes into the Country.

Well, now turne your wit unto our mirth, we have more neede of that, what have you got there?

That which shall save my wit blamelesse that is un­practised 'tis a rare peece of Poetry, which I have beene Patronesse of from the first nonsence in't, that is, from the first line, there much mirth intended in it, and I doubt not, but your grace will finde it, the Author, himselfe is an Emblme of the first Comedies, where one acted all, and will make you laugh though you saw him every day, I have brought him along with me, he stays but without till his ad­mittance be graunted.

No, prethee Melissa, 'twill be too much.

I beseech your grace, and do but smile upon his learning. Domine, Domine.

Looke, looke, I told you what you'd doe, you are so forward.

I can presume most humble Lady.

Ladies ha, ha, ha.

Hold your peace, with your presuming, you should let the Princesse speake. This is the author Madam.

Ladyes. ha, ha, ha,

What thinke you your Play will doe when

[Page] One Sceane of your selfe breeds all this mirth?

Ham.

Melissa?

Your Grace?

Prethee discharge him I am not able to looke so much laughter in the face and keepe it in to save my Modesty.

So, tis well Sir, the Princesse hath taken notice of your worth, and commanded me to reward your. Attend tomorrow and you shall receive it, and pray see that her grace have all your labours (as you call 'em) and your foo­ling.

O tis well we dresse us not, but was this a Poet, Mel. beleeve it Madam but I hope his worke will satisfie that Que­stion her's rare stuffe i'le warrant it.

Will your grace examine it?

Who were they past by?

But certainely they know what they doe They are so confident.

Where are we now?

Certainely in no danger Sir.

The Prince.

Madam, our bold mistake hath thrust us on too farre, to retire without excuse, which we shall hardly make unlesse, your favour meete us, wee are Strangers that thus have er'd, unfortunately I must not say, that were a sinne great as our rudenesse, yet we ought to esteeme a fault, though it is to us a blessed one, and hath conferred a happines, our best deeds could not have deserv'd.

This entrance was something abrupt, and beyond the intent of our Poet.

A strange accident, was it the Prince that spoke?

I Madam, but 'twas impropper here.

Art thou sure 'twas he?

I am Madam, does your grace incline, I see a Prince is too high a personage and spoiles a Commedy, shall not our Play goe on?

We have had too much on't.

Nay, Madam, take us along with you, we cannot main­taine the Stage without our partes.

Madam, a litle of your company I beseech you.

My Lord Aratus, save you.

A good salutation for a faire Lady whose beauties so distructive.

Your Lordship's very conceited, on my conference tis the first left hath beene made on that poore saying this thousand yeares.

What doe you looke at? doe you want a servant?

Blesse me, my Lord, what pale man have you got there?

Why pray? because hee's blacke; the sitter for a Lady.

For a Lady? I never saw such a Devills play-fellow.

Hee's white within, all snow and milke.

They are put into an inke-bottle.

What, would you have one that spends more milke about his face than he suckt in his childhood, that dresses him­selfe in gloves as if one part were too good to doe service for the other, and dares not shew his hands for shaming of his Mi­stris, nor commend hers because his owne are whiter, and when he is a bed, none can distinguish whether hee be the hus­band, nor hardly shee herselfe. This is one neglects his outside beyond a common cleannesse, and bestowes that care upon his minde, there wasts his foure houres of dressing, and what the [Page] other doth exceede in sprucenes hee'l make good in service, pay respects unto his Ladies person, and not unto her muffe, and if at any time danger doe approach her, fearelesse he dares beat it backe, or make it welcome by his noble fall, himselfe in presence guards her, and his memory in his absence. Come, pray spoile not his hopes among the Ladies hee's a young Courtier and wants a Mistris.

I am turn'd when I heare reason. I beseech, my Lord, let me be she.

I thought 'twould come to this, you make the furthest way about, the nighest to your ends, love by discommending, pray let him salute you then.

Not unlesse youle▪ stand by me.

Well, I warrant you; my friend?

My Lord?

Pray draw neere, heeres a faire Lady gladly would sa­lute you, now you are at Court you must lay by your warlike thoughts, and plot how you shall overcome in complement and conquer in civility.

My Lord, I shall bee a sham'd to pretend so much un­to the Soldier, as to make my selfe uncapable of so great an honour this Lady does mee by her faire salutation, though I am unworthy, I can be proud to be her Servant.

What thinke you?

I know not what to thinke of so much wonder, what rarities shall I be mistris of, and none envy me.

Well, to leave you in that rapture, May I speake with the Princesse?

Yes, she went hence but now.

May I adventure to goe in?

You may, but call my servant along with you.

You are a longing againe, but not a bit, tis sweet meat, not a bit.

And Madam, I doubt not but shortly I shall bring you newes of greater joyes, and see you in that height you were borne, a Queeue, not to be approachd but by ceremony, and the humblest services.

My Lord, that happinesse you wish mee through my Lord Timeus will come too soone upon mee. But as I said be­fore, my Lord, the Princes comming, if it be knowne, will cause much jealousie and danger.

Madam, leave that to mee, none but my selfe, and this [Page] Gentlemen (which I beseech your Grace to know) shall be ac­quainted with it, and we will waite upon him.

Amongst those many voyces, and knees which day­ly do you honour. I gladly would receive an humble place, and pay my dutyes at your feete too, you may demand what they are. A heart and carelesse life to doe you ser­vice just so, what was Incence on an Alter to a Dei­ty that had noe sent: or a Cake and Wine to a power that had not Stomacke? yet they harkened to those which offered such trifles, and lik't and approv'd the wor­ship, with the same hopes I present my flight but most devo­ted Services.

S ^r. your Love is welcome.

We are both your humble creatures.

There he sits, and sleepe hath seized on him, which seldome does so at a season'd houre, but still he takes it when it comes, not when tis due, when wearinesse and not the warnings of the night doe prompt him to it. Hee sayes to sleepe because the day is gon, is to performe a duty not a ne­cessity, and to eate at a certaine houre to satisfie the time, and not his hunger. Nature is the Mistris of his faculties and no custome, which are rude and stubborne and will admit not Lawes but what themselves enact, nor stricktly observe them neyther. Tis a strange distraction for 16. yeares, a deeper dis­content possesses him then doth the memories of those, which have runne the miseryes, and sinnes of a long life. This desolate happines is all that he enjoyes, and this I am commanded to breake from him.

Why are you thus crewell in your care? did you but know the felicityes you have wak't me from, you would have rockt my sleepe for ever, thought it a greater mercy to have kill'd, then thus to have divor'st me, I was wrapt into the company of men, of gods, if compar'd with those we here converse with, enjoy'd the most excellent things, there more, excellent, and glorified, was Crown'd a King o're all and with a traytorous push you have depos'd me. Alas how fading is my happines, which a small noyse or motion can dis­solve, nay turne to nothing.

Let that reason make you scorne'em, and aime at lasting ones.

Were their longest life but three minutes, and that time uncertaine, they were to be preferr'd before the reallest, and most continuing you could thinke on, these are pure and celestiall pleasures, to be fed on onely by the fantasie, I'le in and againe invite them with a slumber.

I must forbeare my remedies 'tis dangerous applying Physicke in a fit.

Poliander, Menetius, well met; what have you seene [Page] the thing yet?

What thing?

The thing that haunts the Court, it has something like a man, and pretends to be one, he comes among the Ladyes like a Rough water Dog to a Flock of Fowle, and flutter as fast from him, scattering feathers as they passe, I meane their Fanns and such moveables, he has done noe hurt yet, the Guard dare not mingle with him, hee's too boysterous for their company, one glance of him as he past by broke the Kings draught, which a cubit Cup could nee'r doe.

See, see, here he comes, with as many patches and such like properties as would furnish a whole casheer'd Company to beg with, sure he was Scarr-bearer to some Army lett's observe it what it will doe, looke, looke, 'tis pleas'd with the hangings.

He cannot be thus by nature, nor by accident, he has studied to appeare horrid.

Danger is not so dreadfull in it selfe as it appeares in him.

I cannot forbeare, for curiosity sake, i'le enter parly with it, what rare things shall I know if I can get him speake, I'le inquire the fortune of the Kingdome for the next thou­sand yeares, that's not worth the asking. I'le inquire the age of the World and where her treasure lyes, he cannot chuse but know the very heart of the earth. If I cannot perswad, I'le conjure something from him.

Boe, boe, O Bull-begger! what art thou? who let thee loose? where is any gold hid? my fears were just, nothing but a charme will doe it.

This was not terrible enough.

This won't doe it, it must bee more tirrible yet, I adjure thee by those Boots, thy Velvet eye, by all the Taylors [Page] worke about thee—

Peace Foole—

Oah.

The King will heare thee and thou wilt be whipt for balling.

Prethee good divell something of the other World.

Ha, ha, ha.

I hope hee has satisfied your curiosity Comastes, Ha, ha, ha.

Nay, I'le not leave him thus, be bafled by a Goblin? I'le follow it to the place where it shakes the Chaine, that certaine.

Ha, ha, ha, come let's see the end of the Conjuration.

My Lord, Cupid put his hood-winke on you that he us'd to aime with, and than you could not misse the marke, I feare the second view will not be so delightfull, the most ex­cellent things scarse please twice.

My Lord, thinke not so, for were the World darke a­bout her, or I blind to all things else, in her I could find variety enough, and so long as she were not ecclipsed I could not envy him that were so plac'd, that he at once could see the whole earth as in a Map.

These habits then my Lord will bring you thither, me thinks your Grace becomes them really well, now you are a Person most Sacrosanct, twice holy, made so by your Majesty and order. Tis time that you were goeing, the guide is ready to attend you to the place from whence you must seeme to come, I with a private guard will waite you at the Princesse lodgings for feare of any suddaine danger.

My Lord, I shall ever owe my life to you, as much as if you had sau'd it, and that I liv'd wholly by your guift, but here can be no danger where she wishes safety.

When this is past, then for the great worke, this is but a florish to recreate the Sences inrespect of that, it now growes toward an end, and heavier like many things [Page] at first light in themselves, and hardly to bee caught for every aire, being condensed and thickned to a bottome, doe presse the shoulders and make the vaines groane under.

Aratus?

How now friends, mee thinkes your lookes are lively, how succeeds your undertakings?

Too well to faile a minute of the time.

All the places we named, are sided with us, and those parts which Pallantus heretofore commanded are ready to sa­crifice their new Lords to any that can but say hee knew their old.

Why this is the life of every action, and makes it plea­sant, when fortune is no enemie to industry, nor turnes her wis­dome into folly, makes not that a ruine which was a well or­dered safety, when they both consent the burthen's light, and labour but a serious sport.

The young Prince is come, but wee have given com­mand to keepe him close, least his face discover what his for­tune is, a Gentleman at the first sight started at him, and calld him the Prince's Picture.

You must looke to that. The time now growes pre­tious, we must waigh each dram, and till this be over, count all lost wee spend in sleepe or eating: come, every man to his charge. I doubt not on the day, to have a Prince helpe us to set the Crowne upon our King.

But these are things for the following age, wee are hedg'd in beyond all feare, if loyalty may prove distructive, there is yet some danger.

May I hope to see such happinesse?

To enjoy it howerly, and to the end, or I shall curse my selfe else.

Can I no way be a helper?

Onely with your prayers, the men will orecome, and the Gods, who must with piety bee conquered, wee'l leave to your goodnesse, but madam you must yet conceale your ioyes, and not speake them with a looke.

This is the hardest taske, the first is so iust and righ­teous that in it selfe it is both prayer and sacrifice.

There are but a few dayes now, as I may truly say, to crowne our labours, our greatest care is how we shall provide for your grace before the time, your stay heere may bee dangerous.

Take no care for me, my Lord, which way so ere the fortune goes, I shall be safe from all, but from my selfe.

Madam the Prince.

Sir, It was not yours, but the rudenesse of the Court that would leave you to so unhappie a mistake.

This honourable admittance you have granted mee shall hereafter be my onely glory, the sweet meditation that accompanies my old age, nor shall the much envied youth, make mee wish one day backe to bee partaker of their lesser pleasures, when I shall call these greater unto minde, what cordiall will it bee; when I can silently boast within my selfe, my younger daies were grac'd by a Princesse, the fairest in the world; so I may say.

O my Lord, when you talke thus, though I am loath, you doe compell me to turne my face away.

I humbly crave your pardon. Tis strange so much seriousenesse can produce such follies, yet I have faire grounds for what I said, which most excellently shew themselves in every part.

They shew but to the fantasie, ther's no such beauty here, tis borrowed from your speech and faire esteeme, which thus Ile pay you backe againe; you are all that you have said, and when I first saw you, so you did appeare to me, and I think to all the world, the first sight promises all vertues, and the next performes 'em, nothing seem'd then so low in you as this passion.

What honours you have laid upon mee, I may bleed for, but cannot purchase any like 'em; nor returne such back againe, there all must submit, your gifts, as your beauties, are excelling. But away vaine words, I will endeavour to grow strong in those virtues, and not melt [Page] in the passion you have named, I'le set new Lawes to all noble Lovers, that shall make all their idle passions ap­peare as fond unto themselves as others, make them throw by their Pen, and with their Sword to act those Fictions nor daring to name nor thinke upon the Saint they wor­ship, but when they have an offering some vertuous in­crease to bring them neere. Thus is a Love that's free to all, none is injur'd by it Himens. Torch burnes brighter by such flames, and Vestas fires more lasting and more pure, who can complaine the want of beauty, when any (any that dares be good) may adore any, and she like her Picture though she truely looke one way may, seeme to cast a gratious eye o're all.

How his soule labours to soare above the pitch of honor.

How glad, how much greater should I grow, if I could promise to my selfe, but one of those seeming lookes from you.

My Lord, I have not heard you without admiration and wish I could bestow favours rich, and lovely worthy your acceptance; but seeing that I cannot: I'le strive to honor you, not with peevish and womanish commands, but such as shall be worthy of your valour, and make you yet more a Prince. The bravery you have shewne hath not rais'd a vaine passion in me, but a confidence, a noble confidence, that all those ver­tues were not nam d by you but spoke in you, which thus i'le shew my Lord, my Lord, Aratus.

But I must leave you to an instructer, 'tis fit for your Sword, and therefore above my power to utter, shame not, Sir, that I put a tutor to you, you are but to ground with him, you may build to what height you please. Come my Lord, you must lay off all Strangenesse here, and receive a noble helper whole bring both Strength, and honor to your Cause.

Are all things ready for the ceremony; the Crowne, and robes?

They are, ther's nothing wanting if the Prince were come.

Hee's come now.

Your grace is welcome, but it may seeme to a Strange place and person; what thinke you my Lord, are not you fal­len into the company of so many trayterous and lost men.

Sir, say not so, you have not warrant, though you ranke your selfe within the number. The place, and per­sons rather appeare to me, as if there were some Religion towards.

My Lord, you understand it right, there is a Religion towards, and I may truely say that this our [Page] private meeting and close Counsell is more just, and glo­rious then the lowdest deede in Court, that all our pub­like Acts, edicts, and formes of Law, are darke and impious compared to it; nay, that this time and place made holy by our purposes hath the gods more manifest and present, then the Sacrifice and Temples, long since made void and empty of a Deity, by those which sue for favours and request for him, who justly heare deserves their horridst vengeance, we are not met heere to plot a generall ruine for a private injury, we know and teach the greatest Donne by the King unto the Subject, can not give him cause to throw off his faith. Kings are petty gods and may tempt us, nor is it want or desire of Innovation that thus Stirreth us, wee are in the best ill State allready, nor ambition to Strike at that Law­rell which the Thunder spares, no we reverence it, and know that as men are the workes of nature, so Kings of Jove. But 'tis our oath the Sacrament we tooke, which still holds us though our Lord be dead, untill his successor doe quit us from it, by taking of a new one, we are not subjects, but slaves to him we now obey, and therefore as slaves we ought to hate our Master; he was borne lesse then we, and hides the private man under the publique gowne; the purple which he weares was dipt deepe in the blood of Innocents to collour't so. But I vainely wast my selfe in words, here are no minds to be perswaded, nor eares to be instructed; the sinnes we are to punish, we all know, and the gods remem­ber, our Strength then is all we are to speake of, which is the greatest halfe of the Jsle 16. yeares undisturb'd pro­vision, so carelesly was that provided for which was got by blood, there is but one Lordship, small in respect of others, the Tyrants owne possession that will stand strong for him, but they are so besotted with their fortunes that their greatest aide will be but in their will to doe him service. They may offer up their lives, like so many Sacrifices for his sake, but not like Souldiers, they are unworthy of that name: They may dy but never conquer, warr is never talk't of but in their banquets, nor dare they fight beyond a Brawle.

And if we would count part of our Strength in their weaknesse, we have no opposition. In the City where [Page] they and their vices are daily seene, nothing is to contemptible; and in the remoter parts, where Majestie is no more reve­renc'd, being knowne onely by the Power and lawes, and where the name of King heares like the name of God, even there those sonnes of the earth (as I may so call them) dare mi­nace at him, and pile hills on hills to set their bodies equall to their hates.

Heere we are three, can each of us raise such forces, which, though they could not, yet could make the Kingdome feare a conquest.

You are a Souldier my Lord, and though but young perhaps have seene already what others whole lives have not shewne them, yet wee'l play a game we dare invite you to, though you were accompanied with all the ancient Heroes, who had they leave but in their airie shapes to sit on a Tri­bunall, spectators of the warre, this their second leaving of the earth, should bee more grievous to them than their former deaths, and they would wish this Kingdome might bee their Elizium.

You see, my Lord, how each can bring his forces in and prompt the other, those which have none on earth can bring them downe from heaven; in stead of men bring manly spirits, words and lookes confirming more than Armies.

If you have not yet done, I can heare you still, and with such lectures bee content to have my selfe perswaded to that thing, whose imbraces I would leape into; would I could lend aides equall to yours, but theres none so good, yet if you can stay so long, I can command worthy helpers.

My Lord, it shall not neede, all that wee desire is to have you not our enemy.

Are you ready for the Priest yet?

Yes, pray call him in. Though wee need

nothing to strengthen our resolutions, yet wee'l take an oath, tis good to have the Gods along with us, a Sacrament is the tie no lesse of loyalty than of treason.

Here let us all before the sacred witnes of faith and [Page] periury, make a holy vow of loyalty to our selves and cause, and as we draw neere to so divine an Essence, consider tis not gold or marble that wee touch, but a modle of a sensible and living Power, which has vouchsafd to be imbracd by one hand, when the vastnesse of our thoughts could not comprehend it.

Now we are ready for the Prince, Eurilochus prethee doe thou conduct him in.

Your grace shall see a stronger perswation than any you have yet heard, the lively image of her you so much serve, he knowes not yet his fortunes, but I dare warrant hee'l beare them bravely, hee has read the lives of kings though hee never acted any, and you shall perceive he's princely borne, though not bred in Court.

This way, Sir.

Royall Sir you are wellcome. Start not at the name, it is your due, you were borne to that title, and I doubt not, though you never heard it thus applide before, tis not altoge­ther a Stranger to you, there was a sparke which in the first wombe after a speciall manner was insufd into you, and is as another soule within you, as the one informes your body, so this informes that soule, we may call it the difference of a King, that will tell you we are all heere your subjects, and this no strange Phylosophy I teach, and though this rich per­sume hath hitherto beene wrapt in this disguise of learning, and defended from the aire oth court, tis not decayde, but growne stronger by such keeping, which when it shall bee opened will cast a fragrant smell ore all the Kingdome, and cure the infections of the former age; to open it we are met, it is a me­dicine we too long have languishd for. And Sir, though it bee a short warning to so great a matter, you must presently pre­parè to bee a King; wee have no time now to instruct you in your right, and how you lost it, it was yeares a doing, and will require yeares for to relate it. In the meane time, let what you see perswade you, our serious lookes, respects, and the presence of these holy rights.

I neede not excuse my want of answer to you, there is nothing fit for me to say, which way so ever I ope my mouth to this purpose will appeare foolish, whe­ther I refuse, or grant both are alike ridiculous. I can­not turne my selfe in this place, without committing shame, 'tis not with me as with elder yeares they may deny such offers and be admired for their modesty, or accept them and bee honor'd for that Noblenesse, I have nothing yet at my dispose, obedience is my best part; here I am; you may use me as you please, command me, even to weare a Crowne, and make me submit unto the highest honors, set me on the Throne you speake of, and when I have had it long enough, take it againe from me like other toyes I play with, yet my Lords, I am not so young, but that I know I am a subject, and that I have a King; that thus, though but a sport, to use his titles is a fault, or for any to acknowledge such a spirit as you my Lord have spoken, is no lesse a traytor then he which strikes the Crowne from off his head.

You have beene heavenly taught, and shall be ever instructed in such Lectures. But the treason which is com­mitted is committed against your selfe, your spirit is usurpt, and he that holds it is your servant as I am, or at least should be so, please you to aslend. Sir yond place is provided for you.

My Lord, set me not such a spectacle of shame.

It must be so.

Submit now, and command ever. My Lord', will you honor us with your helpe.

The gods preserve the King.

We have now perform'd the one halfe of our duty, which was to seate you thus, the other is with our lives to keepe you at this height.

If I may yet take confidence to speake, and it will [Page] become me to say something of my selfe. I could tell you how this day hath beene familier to me, and in a dreame I have seene things so often, that did not these shoutes confirme me, which were then Still the concluders of my happines, I could not yet beleeve but all that I have now suffered is only ayrie, and these shapes I see, meerely phantastique.

It was a good and prosperous Omen; which prefag'd your quiet here. The gods would not suffer you to rest in a wrong place.

May it be so.

And shall I alone in such a glorious Action walke unseene? and as a fault performe my duties in disguise? I rather will proclaime it, here fall my mist away, now thou onely barrest me from my joyes, to which I am not neere enough unlesse I can embrace. Give me leave my Lords that as my life, so I may throw my body at his feete; I have a share in him, I, though a Stranger to you, it was my Fathers purchase, with his life, he bought it, nor desire I to hold it by another pattent, may such be the noted end successively of all our name, noe disease but our Mistris cause to dy on. Heere let me kneele and pray all happines and the best things may fall, and then rise, and with my Sword pro­cure those blessings I have praid for, know me my Lords, I am Pallantus.—

Pallantus?

Pallantus! My dearest friend proved my dearest kinsman? could I be so dull as to imagine such vallours could be in a shape so low as thy outside promist, or so com­mon as to be met by chance. That I could love thee so, and yet have noe interest in thee? where hast thou beene thus long dead? S ^r. looke upon this man that turnes our joyes thus from you, your party is made strong by his discouery, he has brought such unexpected aide within himselfe.

My Lord, I am yet as in a new World, and know no more then if I now began to live, the most common things are wonders to me, you must excuse me therefore if I know not how to entertaine such accidents as these, yet I can love, if you point me where I should, and being that I want art, and reason I'le lay on the more.

Sir as I; new friend, let me imbrace you, but this al­teration shall not give me leave to forget those former fa­vours I am to serve you for, what I receive in your disguise, I shall be ever ready to pay unto your selfe.

How it greeves me to see thy beauties thus blasted in thy youth, warre hath beene too rough a Mistrisse to thee, and set thy glories in too eminent a place: had Venus beene i'th Campe she would have cover'd thee with Marses Shield, al­though the god himselfe had wanted it, I can remember when the lovelyest face compared with thine, could not have taken from thee, when in the brightest ring of beauty thou ap­pearst but well set, and hadst thou beene attired like one of them thou mighst have wonne the Prize of Fairnesse from a Court of Ladies.

My Lord, they are well lost, both those which were the causers of it, shall receive wounds as Deepe though not so disfiguring, and afford their blood to wash the scarres they have made.

They shall, and we will helpe to bath thee. 'Tis time that wee broake up, our longer stay my prove dangerous, Phronimus and Euril. you must post this night to your com­mand, your Majesty must beare them company, and now without more delay shew your selves, we will be ready heere upon the first newes, my Lord, your Navy will require a Strickt watch and guard on the first motion that will be at­tempted.

Haimantus you shall presently away, and take the whole charge upon your selfe.

Pray doe so my Lord, all we have to doe is to mingle our selves in the Court againe, when these troubles are once o­ver a perpetuall ease will follow.

My Lord, I never enjoy'd safety like these dangers.

My Lord,

Now to leave suspitions, I can write certaine newes of the conspiracie we have a long time feard, the swarmes are now flowne out, the Hives are growne too narrow for their numbers, and they keepe their murmurings abroad, every petty Jnmate upon his Country grievance dares threaten a State-revenge, and what the Law takes from him, will repay with ruine. Aratus, Phronimus, Eurild­chus the three great diseases—

What fiend is this that causes such antipathy within me? the midnight ghost take not shapes so horrid. I have not slept since first he crost me.

Wee are both alone, the Gods have given this time for my revenge.

What does hee mutter to himselfe?

Ile not loose this opportunity.

Coracinus, Argestes?

Kill that Dog.

My Lord?

Kill that Dog. cowardly

Villaines, it were a mercy to leave You to the worrying.

Hee was a Devill, the power of hell was in his arme, Night threw her shades about him to defend him: hee could not have scapt unlesse he had vanishd. Is he oretaken yet.

No my Lord, but tis impossible he should passe the Court, sure he has taken covert in lodgings thereabout.

Let there bee search made, and give command that when hee appeares againe, hee that first meets him without more delay doe kill him. Promise a reward for him that brings his head.

How doe you, my Lord?

Well.

Is your Grace hurt?

And may be againe, if I looke not warilie, would your Lordships sword were sheath'd.

Sir, it was drawne in your defence, and if you are jea­lous, you wrong it, and a ready hand to doe you service.

Sir, is not the Traitour knowne that did it?

No doubt he is.

My Lord, you speake very doubtfull. I hope you doe not thinke but I am sorry for the accident.

I know not what to thinke, your disposition is as great a stranger to me as your selfe.

I see my Lord, you know to bestow injuries, though no curtesies, to a stranger.

Iniuries are deserving to an intruding guest.

You are unworthy—

And though I am encompast with all the dangers I may justly feare from so barbarous a place, which dares doe any thing it lusts unto, without regard of lawes or hospitality, I'de tell you so, and were you from the Dung-hill that you stalke on (it is no better) I'de pull downe that unmanner'd pride within you.

Let mee goe, nothing shall priviledge him to talke thus.

They hold you in your safety, nor is the distance twixt your life and death longer than this space that parts us. If you dare, oretake me, Ile stay you out a daies sayle at Sea. I chal­lenge you to a princely combate, where come with all your Power, that I may destroy so many bruite beasts from of the earth.

Shall I bee tyed while I am bayted? Ile send those that shall oretake you, and cut you off before your shipping yet. Coracinus hast unto the City presently, and in my fathers name command them to raise all speedie Power to stop the Prince, bid them fire his ships in the Haven.

O my Lord, consider a little more before you lay a scandall on the Kingdome, which future ages cannot wipe off, no story can paralell such a fact; your grace moved him much and gave him cause of choller.

Does hee helpe your Lordship with ships, that thus you plead his cause? shall I be tutord by a Traytor?

Sir, you are happie if you can find a Tutor, when you thus much need one, and for your other language, if I under­stood it I'de give you an answere, in the meane time it must returne upon you.

Well Sir, I shall finde other waies than words to an­swer you.

How now Timeus, what bloody?

No more than you see Sir, the sword rather left it on me then drew it out.

Who is the traytor that durst attempt such outrage?

He's scapt unknowne.

Unknowne? that cannot bee, when he has past thus farre in the court some must take notice of him. Can you de­scribe him?

Hee was habited like a Souldier, but his lookes had more of Devill than of man.

Upon my life I saw him: but tis some two dayes since, he must be knowne in all this time, enquire who brought [Page] in any such man, or was seene with him.

This can be no bodie but my Hobgoblin. An't please your grace, was hee not in a buffe Coate, and his face all to bee dab'ld with patches?

Yes he was so.

Then doe I know him, hee belongs to my Lord A­ratus there, no bodie durst speake to him but hee, hee shewed his teeth at every bodie else, he had like to have bit me once.

Aratus doe you heare? they say hee that committed this outrage belongs to you.

To mee Sir? hee wrongs mee that thinkes so, I main­taine none that dare commit such insolence.

My Lord, I saw him with you.

Who? pray make me know the man.

A blacke sterne Souldier that followed you.

I feare I understand you now, there is such a one does follow mee, but I never discoverd anie disloyall spirit in him; his outside, tis true, was as you discribe, not moulded after the common frame of men, but threatned more than anie I have seene; yet twas but his outside that threatned so, within hee was gentle, all a Courtier, to be wound and turnd by the smal­lest courtesie. I must confesse, if he were injurd, then hee was proud, and Lordly stormes rose within his lookes, and thunder was in his voice.

And you knowing this, how durst you turne such a wild beast loose into the Court, whom had I met and chancd to have anger'd my fortune had beene the same. Lay hands up­on him, you shall find that such a Spirit lodges in my brest too, and when tisstird will raise Tempests as greate; we shall find other matters to examine you of. Through this seeming neg­lect we doe put on, we can observe all your actions, and with a halfe and sleeping eie see into your darkest plots.

Then the Gods send their aid or all is lost, yet Sir heare me speake, the jealousies you have on mee, I shall not bee able to cleare, but will leave them to the triall of my innocence and your favour: Yet Sir, to shew you in this last accident how much I am guiltlesse, I will relate unto you how first I met the actour of it. Twas on that day I was imploid on [Page] an honorable message from your Majesty, to the Stranger Prince, on the shore I found him having lately scapt a Ship­wracke, and as great a danger on the Land, for he was as­saulted by two Villaines that were in the same voyage with him, but the cause of their hate himselfe he could not tell, he had no acquaintance with them but in the Ship, but as he had before the waves, so in this Tempest too (as I may call it) he bore himselfe above and left them both as calme as death upon the shore, In the instant when he was yet hot in his anger and, their blood we came upon him —

Pray Sir, let me speake to you, there is a wonder dis­covered to me by his relation, and under this Monster he hath spoke of a greater doth ly hid, one that you would rather have in Chaines, then all the list of Traytors I have named, Sir commit the uncasing him to me, and suffer me to free A­ratus, let it suffice I am an eye upon him, and the rest, and will suddenly by their distruction, distroy their Plot.

Take your way, I'le leave him to you.

My Lord, with the perswasion of your innocence, I have procured your freedome of my father, and doe desire in requitall of this kindnesse (if it be such) to let me see the face of this my enemy once more: if your acquantance as appeares by your words, be not too late to know his aboade, My Lord, I shall receive him otherwise then you expect, the relation you have made of him, and what my selfe was wit­nesse on, hath turn'd my hate into admiration, and if I can move his Love, as I have donne his anger: I shall be happy in his vallour. 'Tis noe strange thing that the vallor of enemies have made them friends, and that wounder have beene the first seale of Love. I doe consider how much [...] him, and that on such occasion, he could not have don least, at first sight I cald him dog, and without more circumstance com­manded for to kill him.

Now, Sir, I must kneele to you, you have the mercy of a Prince; he shall submit for his offence, or suffer for it, and if you find not that noble spirit in him, I have told you of in the most dangerous busines you shall implory him. Let [Page] him be punish't for this his ill plac'd valour.

My Lord, I'le take no other surety but your word, ever ingage me thus.

But my [...]ord, though I can answer, I cannot give credit to your smooth tongue, this last accident had like to have broke all, and had there not beene helpe above, there had beene none beneath. I must be no more so venterous, our Con­spiracy begins to be discovered, and that we are suspected is the least feare, we must not longer deferre our breaking out; there is noe safety now but in a publique danger.

My Lord, though your complement be such, as to esteeme this my retirment for your sake so great a fauour. I must not so account it, nor thinke I have laid so deepe ingagments on you, in granting that I voluntary, & unask't performe: your respects may [Page] claime greater services, and your last words had beene requi­tall to a Stranger.

Ther's a Gentleman desires accesse unto your grace, from Prince Clearchus, and my Lord Aratus.

Prethee goe stay him within, assoone as this troubles o're, I will come to him. Sure 'tis to warne me of their break­ing out.

Why, well said Timeus, now I like thee, here thy eares and services are bent the right way would I could see thee once looke pale in these, but thou art so worldly that thou ap­pearst still as if thou wer't not in it. Can a yong man when he may have leave to breath in such a Paradice as this, draw a common ayre, an ayre of the people? Madam, I don't thinke but you find him a rude servant, one that payes his courtship as a busines, and not as a delight, that has one eye upon the dore to be gone, when the other's fixt on you.

My Lord, I was never witnesse of any others courtship [Page] and therefore can compare it onely with what I can imagine: and 'tis above my highest fantasy.

Why dost thou not answer? I am asham'd to see thee, O my conscience at these yeares, I could ont wooe thee my selfe; I thinke we had best change busines, neyther will goe forward else, i'le court for thee, and thou shall rule for me: thoul't never get a wife without the helpe of a commission.

Ha, ha, ha, saist thou so? thar't kild in a Phylosophy, I thought thou hadst never dreampt of, I am loath to put it out of thee with other thoughts: but I thinke this busines I am to tell thee of will confirme thee more: and remove all thy jealousies. The suspition thou hadst of a Treason was not in vaine, since it hath broken out, but 'tis allready cured, the two chiefe of them are taken in their passage as they went to raise commotions. And I have commanded that they be set [Page] so as they may have a full veiw of that earth they were so am­bitious of, and then to Strangle them at that height.

Were there but two, S ^r, flatter not your selfe, had they beene thousands they had yet left more behinde, you account that a victory which they scorne to account a losse, and thinke you are safe when they are not indangered. Is Aratus, Phronimus or Eurylochus among them?

Noe, nor suspected by any but your selfe.

How now, what's the matter?

S ^r, yonder are two fellowes wee have laid hold on, that call themselves messengers from Aratus to your Majesty. But they have behav'd themselves so trayterously that we have us'd them accordingly, and clapt bolts upon 'em, till they shall be further determin'd of, what their busines is, they will declare to none but to your selfe, and they have spoke those things which they are sure would bring them thither. They answerd when they were urged, they came to defie the King, and us, and if they are not mad, they are the most des­perate villaines I ere heard speake.

These were the evills I was a Prophet of, I saw them when they were yet disguis'd.

Where are they?

They are under guard here in the Court, ther's a mes­senger too from the Governour of the City, desires admit­tance to your Majesty, he sayes a broad are many signes of tumults.

S ^r, this is noe time to delay, if we beleeve not yet, the next newes will bee brought us home by the Traytors themselves, you may perceive their Strength, and ready­nes in this, that they dare make such bold declarations and in the open day produce their black Plotts. If we haste not to o're-take them now; our greatest speed hereafter will not reach them.

Madam, we must intreat your pardon, that thus we have offended gainst your quiet, and made you the first witnesse of our Troubles, that ought to have knowne them last.

S ^r, The trouble is too sad to be excused.

OUr message you say, is returnd againe upon us.

In a manner, the same words, accompanied onely with a few threats more.

Wee expected no other, yet it was fit to neglect no part that belongs to the iustice of our cause, though it were but meerely formall, we ought to claime the right wee had, before we use the meanes to conquer it; the same circumstance is to be observed aswell in the Court of warre, as in the Courts of Law, no triall till the demand be past.

There is but one of the messengers returnd: the other for his stout demanding of the Crowne lost his head, there his fellow reports he delivered those words you put into him, with such resolution, that hee appeared not to denounce, but bring those evills on him. The Tyrant grew pale, and seemed to feele them in his threates, nor could hee thinke himselfe safe en­compast with his friends and guard, till hee had silenc'd [Page] that voyce that so could wound him through all their swords.

Alas poore man, yet hee fell nobly, his sword might have purchast him a higher name in warre, but not in honour. In our daies of triumph he shall not be forgotten, nor his glory though he perceive it not, be defend behind those that live.

Doe yee heare the newes my Lord?

No, my Lord, what is't?

All's lost.

Blesse us, my Lord, how?

Yet it may be but a rumor and scattered by the enemy, Phronimus and Eurilochus in their convoy with the young King are taken. The Campe is ready to mutinie on the report.

There cannot be such an evill, it is a sinne to give cre­dit to it. Pray, my Lord, relate some particulers of the report, was there any made mention of the kings age?

No, The rumour goes that two Lords were taken on the way by a Troope of horse of the adverse party, the young King being in his disguise, and not yet knowne, past undiscove­red as one of their followers.

O tis most likely.

My Lord, raise your selfe, the newes may be false, and all the danger they are in may be by this your beleefe, give not your selfe cause to mourne hereafter, that all perishd on a mi­stake, if that this the worst of evills be befallen, it ought not to be the reason of your neglect, but greater care and vigilance.

My Lord, I thanke you, and will take your advice; Pardon me that I was stupified at the greatest amazement that could befall, and appeard dead when that the life of all my action was taken from mee; yet twas not a slumber I was lost in, but a confusion of various thoughts, not knowing which to choose, untill you pointed mee one out, wee will doe some­thing presently, and not give them leave to put their black in­tents in practice. harke.

The Souldiers are in a mutinie.

Demophilus, what newes?

What newes, my Lord?

Such as is not to be nam'd without a Sacrifice. O see, my Lord, though we have lost, we are not yet undone; theres a Relaps, but not a totall ruine of our fortunes; the King, Phronimus, and Eurilochus are all safe, and never were in dan­ger, this night they will be here with their full power, the oc­casion of the mistake is now plaine.

Till this fell out wee had no sence of the hap­pinesse wee were in. Pray my Lord, what are they which are taken?

Two that stood strongly for our party, more be­sides their names here, and that they were vertuous I am not to instruct you, you may perceive they which have no such cause of joy as wee have, doe lament them much: wee shall have a time too to mourne their deaths, then, when wee have leave to laugh at theirs which slew them, in the meane time fare'em well; such a leave, were I in their misfortune, I would have expected, they have onely out-stript us in the payment of a debt we all owe unto our Master, ours is due, though not yet [Page] calld for. And how fares the young King?

As one the gods take care on, his words and lookes have gain'd many unto his party, and put courage in all the rest.

And weele make use of it while it is yet hot, after this nights rest they shall give battle to the enemy, harke the Muteny increases let us away, least we loose all heere,

Onely my love, the care of all things else doe thou take upon thee, and to morrow, if this fit leave mee, before the battle Ile visit you.

Stay.

He faints the villaine must not live.

They'le bring no comfort to you, though you persisted in them till you were such as thus you hold. Death, like a coy mistris, makes no returne of love for all that is bestowed, you may wast your selves but not your sorrowes here. This ground will afford a perpetuall supply of moysture; which your eyes, like two Sunnes, may draw up and powre downe for ever.

The Traytor's scapt.

We were to soft to obey a dying speech.

What shout is that among the enemies?

Tis the acclamation of the Campe, at the receaving of their fellowes, this night they expected their other forces, and it seemes they are now arrived.

I am glad on't, I hope we shall have command to try the fortune of the Feild to morrow, would the whole knot of them were there, that we might make quicke worke; and like Alexander, unty it with a blow.

I, and a wall round about 'em to keepe them to the slaughter, that we may not be troubled to kill a thousand in a thousand places: I don't like this persuing 'tis the greatest evill next to the being persued, the wine neere tasts well when 'tis so jumbled. Give me a Standing Campe that florishes like a peacefull City, and want's hoe necessaries, here stand your Engins, there your beefe, on this hand a Palesado defends you, on the other, a Baracado of Porke-Tubs impregnable, before a Ditche is cut of some two hundred paces, and the Souldiers tipling in't, behind a Coope runns out of the same length, & the [Page] Poultry tipling in their Trenches, whose body are too dilicate and tender for bare travell, here a man may even among the Tents forget to be a Souldier.

Ha, ha, ha,

O, my conscience Comastes thou art weary o'th Campe allready.

Yes, faith as your selves are, if you'd confesse the truth.

Why, me thinks there is noe pleasure to be compar'd with it, every man hath his delights here as if he tooke his leave on 'em: and if he chance to returne at night, like friends which parted in the morne two dangerous and hopelesse ways of ever seeing, they meet with a multiplyed and unexpected joy, these very wounds are pleasures, and Elizium comes faster on them then their deathes.

Holloe. what aylst thou?

What meanst thou Comastes?

To shew you how easy a thing it is, to talke like a Souldier, and be as brave a fellow as eyther of you.

Ha, ha, ha,.

Thou wouldst make an excellent runne-away Souldier, such a speech on the high-way were greater vio­lence than bidding stand a long staffe, would not get an almes so soone.

What wilt thou say now Comastes to a joviall round or two beyond the Court healths, those at the Kings owne Table?

I thinke I shall say more than you at this, as well as in the other.

Captaine prithee command 'um to bring some wine in, Come let us sit in the meane time, and take away these fearefull things from Comastes.

And why from me, me I pray?

Why they'le fright thy mirth away, looke, it gapes upon thee, but won't bite.

No more than your Lordships sword. Is this the ter­rible thing? I know not what it may doe in a darke night with a candle in't, but in the day, and your Lordship looking through it, I shall never turne my backe unlesse it be to laugh. Pray God the enemy thinke of no such stratagem with a pitcher in the Progenerall-ship, it may be as much as the Kings Army lies on.

Ha, ha.

Take this away too, is not this a Divells hand Coma­stes?

Yes, Theres a couple, pray remove 'em both, and his wit that is so devillish, that we may fall a little to our business.

if we must, let's to itstoutly, and like Souldiers, what say yee? shall wee drinke a battle? the triall of to morrowes victo­ry, Ile take the Kings part against you all. I am the strongest, and when I have orecome, Ile send him word of the good omen, tis worth a thousand of your paltry birds, and oxe entralls, tis a piece of service will gaine the favour from you all.

Come, wee'l undertake you begin, that honour belongs to your side.

Heres—how now, what's this? what does such a boy doe in the warre? disroole him, I scorne to bee Captaine [Page] of such a youngster.

O whilst you live, begin with your light Armature, the Legionaries follow.

[...]s that the trick on't? Here then for the King I throw the first reede, this boy can manage no greater weapon.

I marry, there stands a rank of lusty fellowes, a man may rely upon such valours, their very looks wil orecome common stomacks. I long to see them buckle to it, this is too much sport.

Reach them downe then.

Give it me, and found an assault? Pallas and victory for the King—why I, this was a tall fellow. I don't thinke but Alexander had alwaies a Guard of such attending on his Person; He have a doozen of them, and call them my twelve Labours.

O for a shout, a little noise would gaine the conquest.

In good time, but not so easily.

You doe but dreame a victory yet.

No? helpe me then old Souldier.

Hold up Comastes for the greatnesse of your cause, hold up, you shew signes of fainting, how now?

Hah, goethy waies, nere a Goblet the King has ere got the honour to struggle so long with me.

I feare wee must lose in loyalty, youle nere orecome else.

I warrant you, I retired but to an ambush. But who keepes the doore all this while? Say the enemies should come and cut all our throates. I can tell you I have read such pretty stories.

How now Comastes, what words are these? does Wine breed feares in you?

A pox on this Warre twill bee my undoing, I shall come out with some such roguish question or other at the Kings Table and have my bones broken by the Guard.

The Wine workes not at all, Comastes you begin not fast enough.

Fill another—So now bring me the Armour againe

What will you doe with it?

Bring it againe I say, I'le put mirth into you all, pray let him helpe me that has nothing to doe.

Here will you take this?

Noe I shall have noe need of that.

O I had forgot, thy Face is allwayes arm'd enough.

Well S ^r, when I returne I'le pay you that.

O the King's kild!

The King!

Thou look'st distractedly, speake it againe.

Hee's slaine, my selfe was present at his fall.

By what accursed hand?

That divell that wounded the Prince, hath murderd him, he was before his terror, and was now his death.

O the heavy hand of Justice. Is the Prince safe?

Slaine too, if report be true, but by what hand I know not, he left the King just before his fall to come hither, and be­ing that he is not heere, we have much cause to feare the worst.

Feare not now, you have past the greatest danger, when we have made an end of these theres none left to punish us, the King and Prince are killd, and those which remaine, we doe the busines for, and will reward us richly according to the service, and their great promises. We have no other way to gaine ought by this alteration, our pardons all that we can hope for, if we still, let us on presently least some others doe prevent us, follow me, I'le give the first blow.

How now? what gaze you at? know you where you are? does your feet leade you without the councell of your head? get you to your quarter or i'le stretch you up in't.

These Villains dare doe any thing, Captaine follow 'em and see 'em punish't.

What shall we doe? here we stand like so many trunkes of men, headles, and livelesse, none to obey, nor able to command, there is noe way can present us safety, but this we are now in is the most unworthy danger: So beasts when they have beene fed unto the slaughter, submit unto it, let us not stand still, but resolve to turne our Swords upon our enemies, or bend them against our owne brestes; eyther wayes a victory, and will bring us happines and glory.

I am for the last, it is the safest way, and in our griefes the noblest.

S ^r, These fellowes came to kill us, one of the weakest on 'em, when he saw himselfe laid hold on for his other fault, sus­pecting he was discover'd out of mere guiltines confest, that unwillingly he was brought into the plot, by the perswation of his fellowes, who in hope of preferment from the enemy had decreed on all our deathes, he sayes too that himselfe, and many more were attempted by some of the adverse party with promises, and threates to lay downe their Armes, and that the Campe is full of such commotors.

This then will confirme our former resolutions, come let us number up our selves, and if we are equall each man set his sword against his fellowes brest, and with a friendly wound (in spite of Fate or Fortune, being our selves Lords of a greater power) give happines to eyther. Then these wild Beasts will deplore the losse of that they so indeavour to throw away, and leape like head-lesse bodyes into flames, and ruine.

O! my Lord, let us imbrace you with such a love, as dead, and revived friends would expresse to eyther, to us you were dead, and are alive againe. And have bestowed this life we now enjoy, we must not owe it to another Parent. So is the Judge a Father to the guilty, your sentence was past upon us, and the hand held up to put it into practise, when you, as if from heaven you had fallen, set all right that was in such confusion, what trifles will the greatest dangers appeare to us.

Rise, you have noe lesse quickened me, that was as [Page] nigh my end as you your selves were, but now I live, and againe can thinke of life and vengance to our enemies, which presently weele put in practice, and seeing that our spirits are redoubled, our losses shall no longer fright us.

Tis time S ^r, you shew'd your selfe unto the Army, there you are dead still, and their faith on the beleefe litle better, but your presence, will enliven it againe, and make them fight on hatred of their former fault, and shame of their present desperation.

Let us away.

Never did Justice appeare so eminent this was a deed, as if her owne hand had wrought it, who can complaine the want of providence, or say the guilty, and the innocent make one heape, when this is told. A Tyrant in the height of all his glory guarded with friends, and crewelty what eyther power or violence could make him safe with, by a mortall hand Strengthened with Justice, was snatch't from the midst of all, the lightning melts not the enclosed gold with halfe that wonder: leaving that's more combustible, nor doth the plague in a multitude of men make a choyce so curious.

Where is the great worker, of it?

Againe departed to performe greater things, If be pos­sible, I did prophesie, though not the nature of them, that he could act us wonders, weele strive to second his first blow, and now the gods and he have done, play our parts. I could almost give him divine honors, and say when he is in the Campe, there is no neede of any other power, Souldiers are but charge, and troubles only.

Tis time, that my troopes were gone, that wee may reach the place of ambush, ere the breake of day.

Tis true you shall presently away, Phronimus is allready gone with his Forces to stop the passage betweene the enemy, and the City, we in front will stand against them, so that in the morning when they rise it shall appeare to them as if they were inhabited with foes, not being able to turne away they shall not loose their sight in our large number.

Some of those which were sent to corrupt the ene­mies are return'd, and say their words were harkned to, beyond their expectation: and if a present assault were given, there were no doubt of victory, all is in such a tumult.

Such evills increase by delay, wee'l let 'em grow un­till the morning, and then our sight will gaine the conquest; if it be possible wee'l order't so, that wee may rather shew 'um warre than bring it on them, though they are given into our hands wee ought not to shew our mercy, and not our power.

Oh, O!

Madam they breake in upon us.

O my father! when thou art slaine I cannot feare what after does befall me, the same that was their cruelty to thee, will to me be pity.

Hold, I command you hold, hee that takes a life shall pay one backe againe.

My rage hath blindly led me on to violate a place, no lesse sacred then the Temples and rudely, ere I lookd about, hath thrust me on the Deity. Like those which being led to see some glorious thing, eager, and longing, aske still as they passe, which is the sight, and how neere, untill they are ingag'd within its splen­dour, which opening suddenly upon them, makes them retire as fast againe with reverence.

What stayes thee monster, and makes thee pant thusore the prey? here I stand readie and doe invite thy fury, come and save my hand a labour, if thou art surfeited Ile whet thy thine appetite. Thou art a Murderer, a villaine, These name thee not, nor drawne in the same Table would expresse thee, such offenders the Magistrates can punish, [Page] They are but diseases of the State, thou the death, the Law comprehends them within her virge, thy giant faults doe so much oretop her, that iustice cannot reach thee. And if there were no gods thou then wert innocent, and wouldst stand safe because thou art so wicked. Thou hast killd thy King; O no, thou hadst no share in him, hee was a King of men, thou a beast, the bloodiest in the Forrest, yet he was they Soveraigne too, the heards were under him, and the wildest knew no other Lord.

My revenge how false thy beauty was?

How monstrous thou appearest, thou represenst un­to me all ill I ever heard of.

And thou all that ever I heard of good.

Thou movest like so many living mischiefes, had the Priests beheld thee, they might have divinde all these future evills so exactly in thy feature, that what they told would rather seeme a Story than a Prophecy, and saved us from thee. Nature was never guilty of such a Worke, some hellish power hath given the birth, and Spi­rit, and sent thee on earth to destroy all that's faire and holy.

Sir, raise your selfe, can you endure such words as these? Souldiers on, and make them feele those evills shee hath uttered.

Hold villaines dare you make an offer to such a deed, and not in that thought expect a bolt upon your breasts? hee that heaves his hand shall know I have that thunder here. Thou worse than she hath named, unhallowed Traytor, canst thou command such Sacriledge? if that thy faults were told thee from above, thou'ldst blaspheme the voyce that spoke to thee. If shalt dare to speake such things as these, Ile make thy soule passe faster than thy words, thinke not to wrong me with a seeming shew. Ile not take your bitternesse, though gilded in the name of friendship, withdraw and shew your love this way.

Sir, will you stay? there may be treachery in the place.

Still you iniure me with your kindnesse.

What next intendst thou? what master-peace of [Page] wickednesse wilt thou glory in alone? know thou canst not force me, here within thy reach I am as safe as if an army all re­solute to death divided us. This hand something weaker than a womans, can resist all thy strength, were in as great mischiefe as thy will.

Though I seeme all that you have named, and fouler yet, this is a sinne blacker than all; such as I dare not doe. O thinke me not worse than you have said alreadie, and then I may againe be happy. The beasts are noble, meeke to Chastity, and humbly licke the feet of Majesty. Judge me not by shew, our eyes deceive us, and as oft perswade us to the wrong, as doe the blinde mans feete, falsely doe prompt us. All that is white is innocent, and all that's blacke is sinnefull, without exception. Should those which looke on you be led so by the scence, they must kneele downe before you, and adore you as some Deity, not being able to fantasie so much god, as they doe see in you; such formes their power have given you, that you may become a rivall in their worships.

Why talkst thou thus? thy tongue hath no more Power than hath thy hands.

Neither intend violence, would you could entertaine of me one thought of goodnesse, as hopelesse as you thinke me, I de undertake to make it good, and better't daily.

Why delayest thou? what wouldst thou have?

Forgivenesse, I dare not say love.

Love? thy thoughts are more mishapen than thy selfe, even in thy hopes th'art cruell. This base imagination hath wrong'd mee more than all thy actions, before thou onely soughtst my ruine, now the ruine of my name, that thou intendst a rape it was a glory to me, and though I had lost it, would have got me same, the honour of a ravisht virgin. Didst thou woe mee with the greatest services, as thou comst in my fathers blood, I could reward thee, but could never yeeld thee love; I was too long a Princesse, and lost the name too late to enter­taine so low a thought.

The world of causes that part me and happinesse.

Love is softe, and full of curtesie a greater opposite to lust than hate; the flames thou feelst are more preposterous than those which burne the breasts of Satyrs, and of beasts, w ^ch [Page] kill the young and in that blood injoy the Damme. Thinkest thou that any is so bold in lust to embrace such feares thy love bring with it.

My youth and comelinesse whither are you fled?

My miseries have put a new nature in me, chang'd that calmenesse I had wont t'enjoy, into the lookes and language of a fury: how ill doth rage become a virgins breast? I will sup­presse it, and if it must breake forth, dissolve it into teares. An age worne out in thought cannot present one comfort to mee, I am so wretched.

Accursed that I am, to be the Author of such misery, is there no way to restore that peace which you have lost? if there be any, dispaire not of it, though it be held in the iawes of death, Ile snatch it for you; though it were lost in the darkest masse of things, my love would distinsh't in a Chaos: if it have no being but what your thought gives life too, Ile wish it for you. So strong my fantasie is to serve you; let it be any thing to be done Ile doe't, can I, the wretched cause removed bring ease unto you, here on my knee I yeeld my life unto your taking, or if you had rather, Ile offer't up my selfe.

No, and yet there is a way, and thou maist doe it.

Is there a way? O my ioyes, the gods are mercifull, name it, name it to me.

If thou'lt vow to doe it presently.

Need I an oath to confirme I would be happy? tis my owne happinesse I thus eagerly persue in yours, every sigh you give doth make me breathlesse, and every teare which you let fall doth bow mee nearer to the earth, than all the yeares and wounds that I have suffered; yet I will sweare by all things holy, all that I feare and reverence, to refuse no labours, deaths, to gaine your ease—

Then—

And restore ioy unto your life againe.

Now thou canst not, thy last words have rendred thee unable. The ease was death, which yet I beg from thee.

From what a heaven of happines am I fallen?

Assist me all my Strength, the gods this way you have ordeyned I should come to you, pardon that Fate then which your selves did give me.

O my Lady.

Stay, O; stay that hand, let that goodnesse in you which would spare things faire, and holy, preserve the fairest, and the holyest. The angells would be prowd to take such shape upon them when they visit earth, 'tis such as your selfe ought to looke with reverence on.

Ther's a weapon hid within my heart, which none can take away: it wounds deepely. Now Death thou art a lover, and dost court me mildly.

O my Lady, helpe, helpe, O my Lady.

Give her more ayre.

Shees gone, my times noe longer, our lives were woven on the same web, the destynies condemn'd me to see her death, and then to follow.

Shee breathes, stand off.

My Brother, O my Father.

How do you Madam?

Too well, my Strength returnes too fast upon me.

Were my Soule fled, that voyce would call it backe a­gaine, it selfe would returne: and choose this Paradice on earth, I'le not disturbe her with my longer stay.

If that your Lady shall neede any thing, you may have it with a thought, a long peace shall not present it with more care, and speed: shee shall not find lesse tendernes, and honor then if her Father still ruld all.

The Guards at your command, and shall stay onely for your safety.

Souldier, thart noble, may the gods reward thy good­nesse, Madam, you had best goe in.

My Lord, let not the treachery of such Villaines trouble you more then your thought of safety, shew your hate unto their false-hood by seeking to revenge it, you have yet hopes left, if timely you put your former Re­solution into practise, when wee have gain'd the Forte, there's meanes to escape the I'sle, and seeke forraigne aide, you have many friends that you may trust too. This our obscure flight will make our returne more glo­rious, which shall bee i'th face of the whole Kingdome, nor will we choose another way, but what passes o're Cities, Armies, and through a generall ruine to our Revenge.

This quiet we enjoy doth strike amazement in me, sure they have slaine the body with the head, which makes this generall calme.

Madam, 'tis more innocent, I had newes brought by one I sent to learne that did astonish me, that the people knew noe cause of griefe or gladnesse, but rose to their affaires as in a time when neyther enemies, nor holidayes doe distract them from their labours. The Kings death was newes this morning in the City, such care the Victors tooke least, the many headed but unbrained multitude, should pull a slaughter on them.

Their piety is too late, nor will it satisfie the gods, when they have spilt so much blood, that they will spill noe more.

The Souldiers, though their charge was gone, kept their Guard Still, they of the party durst not disclose it for their owne safety. Some there were which whisperd it, but they seemed rather curious in the State, then those dull which knew it not.

Can a Kingdome fall, and the ruine not wake the people.

The messinger with this doubted what he had seene and heard; nor durst hee bee confirm'd least his question might seeme Treason, the first opening of it was by Procla­mation, with such secresy the plot was carried, that now it was a labour to discover it. After this Aratus, and the rest of the Conpirators went into the Market-place, where the [...]eople were comanded to attend by publique voyce, and there to the assembly when they had declared the Justice of their action, they produced the yong Prince, which in the last alteration of the State was lost. But by all supposed to have beene murdered, which that hee was the Kings [Page] Sonne was confirmed by Aratus his conferring the King­dome on him: himselfe being the next heire unto the Crowne, if the Kings Issue fail'd. The Story of the Prin­ces life bred much Love, and Pity, and his lookes were able to have led them to a civill Warre, had he beene Coun­terfet.

This may be true, they who can beleeve there is a providence, may easily give credit to this Justice, our sinnes were mightier then our sufferings, and had wee a greater debt then life, we ought to pay it, my Miseries are due to mee. I was a party, and enjoy'd my Fathers violence.

Madam you are as Innocent, as at that time your age was, and onely doe offend in your teares, and too much love, which on this occasion spent excessively, is not to greeve but to repine, the King was old, and taking his latest leave, and was hastned onely a litle sooner to shew the Justice of the gods; 'tis true, my Lord Timeus was yong, yet had noe patent for his life, but as all brothers, was an uncertaine joy.

How ill these words become thee, and me to heare, think'st thou my Fathers faults can bring a comfort to mee.

Madam, twould be noe glory to you that an unworthy greife should be your death, your enemies noe doubt are noble, sure they chose the crewellest to execute their businesse, and him though his churlish out-side promist not, we found more courteous, then they which doe professe it, his words were the lawes of Complement. One that simpathizd in all your suffer­ings, and though his manlinesse would not suffer him faint, he died together with you.

See who 'tis disturbes us. Who ist?

Madam, I know not, nor did I ere see any like him, his beauties beyond all similitude, he speakes like the Souldier we were talking of, but him it cannot be, he was the terror, this the darling of mankind.

Whether wilt thou loose thy selfe in commendation? in men beauties the least part.

Madam, it appeares so in him, yet such fea­tures lay a necessity of noblenesse on the minde, hee hum­bly craves admittance, nor would hee take it before that it were granted.

Call him in, wee must indure their pleasures, it will not become our state to deny commands, much lesse when they intreat.

The Kingdome owes a Sacrifice for your life, all will ioy to heare it, which had it faild, would have pulld more guilt upon us, than the sinnes of a whole age.

It is my fault you tell me of, and a great share of my griefe that thus I stay to grieve.

My offensive tongue can utter nothing pleasing to you, so great are your misfortunes, and your honor so tender to you, the wounds that I have given you are beyond my cure.

Thou art not hee that gave 'um.

If my repentance can make me cleare, I am not, other­waies tis I that partially hearing my owne cause, beleev'd and iudg'd for it, that hastily without examining what I did, de­creed on all your woe.

Thart strangely altered, if thou beest hee.

Nothing so strangely as my hopes are, at first they did appeare in a divine and holy forme, beyond all that I can fantasie, such a mind though ravishd with the beauty, could not expresse then, and promist all should bee as heavenly as their shape, calld mee the instrument of Iustice, the saver of my Countrey: set all the sinnes before mee, I was to punish, told mee there was no heaven, but what their clowdes did veile; thus they crept into mee, and won mee with the most specious shewes unto their service, on my bare re­solution gave mee part of that happinesse I was to ayme at. Then they clothed mee in a body, foule as the Tra­gedy I was to act, and made me dote on those deformities which all did loath, when they had bewitcht mee with these false, yet glittering names, and I obeyed their blacke commands, in a moment they changd into Repentance, a mournefull figure: and sadly left mee as they first did find [Page] me, and as I now appeare to you.

Thou hadst no cause for all that thou hast done, the faults were generall, and concernd not thee, but thou wert ready, for all ill; as well as goodnesse.

Yet, I had a cause (Pardon me that I say) and being that I saw not you before I did it, a iust one. I lost a Sove­raigne, as nere to me in blood, as love; and if this cause may seeme remote, I had a father murdered, whose death, as it be­comes you thus to mourne, so it did mee for to revenge, my selfe was banisht, loyaltie was both our faults, and when they had heapt these sorrowes on me, left mee not one hope to leane on; they were not yet content with my despaire, but sought my life, which was so poore, it could not be distinguisht then from death; their injuries forcd a new one in mee, and blew the sparke untill the flame consumde 'um. But had I be­held you before their danger, it would have turnd my soule within mee, changd mee from a Foe unto their partie. I cannot now beleeve I had a Justice, that there could bee any where you were iniurd in it, so much my love doth mount above my griefe, that it makes mee thinke I have onely lost your father. Why weepe you thus? Could that recall him, I'de beare you company, and breake those stub­borne gates, which from my childe-hood to this present houre hath kept them backe, and spend my whole store here. But nothing can redeeme him, let that common reme­dy which all apply, and helpeth all, give ease unto you, that nothing can redeeme him. O learne a strength of me (that is the worst name for it) to beare a fathers losse. Let the inno­cence of mine excuse my violence to yours, wee are the wret­chedst two alive, made so by our selves, and can be onely happy in our selves.

Oh, O.

Look on this, it may bring you comfort, with making out of love with the subiect of your griefe.

Ha?

Falls not my deformityes away?

Pallantus? art thou Pallantus?

This is the first time I darde to be so.

And to all this villany is signd Tymeus, couldst thou be thus cruell, thus basely cruell? unworthy brother. This hath made a mercy of all that hath befallen thee, thou dost deserve to have thy punishments out-live thee, to have engraven on thy Tombe, Heere lies the treacherous, bloody, and to make thee monstrous, have thy age adde to it, The young Timeus, that was subtile in his youth, what remaines for mee? that happinesse the most wretched doe enjoy, is taken from me, a worthy cause of griefe. Now I can neither live, nor die, without a staine.

Can you yet read a resemblance but of Iustice in my Actions.

I know not how to answere. The tongue must bee as wicked as the will that did commit 'em, that can defend such deeds, had equity pointed all your Actions out, given you Rules to work by, told you how much, how farre you must have gone, you could not have done more justly, there wants not any thing to crowne your iudgement but my death, the onely issue of that sinnefull race. I have a long time loathed my life, and now I loath my selfe too. I find I know not how, a guiltinesse within me, my fathers faults flow like his blood within mee.

You are not at all allide unto his vices. Profane not then your goodnesse, it is a sinne though you your selfe commit it; that you was a Princesse was not your ambition but obe­dience, you are onely guilty in thinking of your selfe so, why then doe yue talke of death thus?

Can any life be noble after such losses?

My selfe, and the many which have suffered them doe thinke so, and are receiv'd of all with pity, and with honour, can you expect to find lesse humanity? you are not fallne so low, but the greatest Prince would be proud to do you service. Tis vainenes to professe, all civility is your due.

You reward me good for bad, before that I was cer­taine of a cause, I slandered your vertues with those names foule deeds deserve, or a worse nature could invent, I falsely did apply to you that which was true in me.

You are a Iudge too cruell to your selfe, I did deserve them at the least from you, it was a noble passion, and owed unto your friends, had they beene worse, yet if you'de make a­mends, where there was no wrong, give one comfort to your selfe, and I shall receive a million: ample and satisfactory.

You have given me many, more than I did hope, or wish for, and removed those killing doubts within me. I shall remember you no more the cause, but mourner of my fathers death. O that name of father, how ever thou deserv'st, thou dost deserve these teares of me.

Fall not to a relapse againe, I dare not leave you thus.

You may there is no danger in't, they were but teares, and are already wipt away.

All about you does minister to your griefe. The King would gladly comfort you, can you admit his visit?

I finde hereafter that I may, yet tis too soone, Pray excuse me.

May peace and quiet returne to their home, againe to this place.

People Jove, Neptune, Apollo, and the gods of Greece; pre­serve, and blesse the King.

Through the happines of my people, may I know no other ioy or sadnesse, but what passes you, still the middle way of blessings twixt the gods and me.

The gods preserve your Majesty.

Sir, give us leave too, to ease our selves of that ioy that doth oppresse us, how hath these your virtues rewarded all our travell, made our deede honourable, and to our faith have joynd discretion, in shewing your selfe thus worthy of the place you are chose too, you have made it plaine, as none ought, so none but your selfe can rule: what praises will after­ages give us for this our loyalty? Had you beene brought in with fire, with blood, with desolation, as you, with wonder, are given a gift of peace in the height of warre, yet your endow­ments would have made all innocent, and like a yeare of good things made the bad forgotten. Sir I hope you doe not thinke I flatter.

My Lord, I doe not, you that have so many virtues for to live by, neede no dishonest Arts, nor by such waies seeke to endeare me, when you have alreadie so really ingaged me, that I am not able to give you a thankes, much lesse a returne that's equall not to say if I could what I would do deserving you, and if you cannot in some kinde reward your selfe, tis not in my power to doe it: These praises you have given me, doe tell, if not what I am, yet what I should be, they shall not make mee proud, but good, nor will I glory in them, but make them still my ayme. Ile first offer them to the gods, and humbly from their hands pray for them againe, and at the second gift account them mine.

These men wrought hard too for, you.

My Lord, I know it, and could I thanke them in't, Ide stoope lower than the place from whence they raysed me.

See Sir, what ioyes approch you, your royall Sister.

Tis so to both of us. And we will ever celebrate it, as the first day that we were borne Brother and Sister, before we were Strangers, now we are twinns of love. My Lord, I un­derstand the holy League betwixt you, and though I lay my hand thus on it, I Intend not for to breake it, nor make a di­vorse, though thus I part you: pardon me that I seeme covetous of so great a happines; and shew a loathnes to part from it, be­fore I have my selfe enjoyed it. She must sit some time my Queene, before she be crown'd yours.

It were a creuelty to wish it other, I will not be guilty of such desires, if after a brother, I an humble servant shall be thought on, 'tis the time and place I am ambitious off. I will withdraw Sir, and though there is noe happines, I can enjoy so great, as beholding yours, I will deny my selfe the view.

O my Lord, say not so, though I am kinde I am not fond, I'le give up my interest, or any thing rather then you shall leave us; I spoke it as a meanes to stay you make it not then a parting word: helpe me to perswade him.

My Lord.

Tis enough, I obey, my busines is much below my love, and I will rather distroy the one, then offend the other, yet now I have granted I'le intreat againe, as for a new favour. I may perswade, though deny nothing. My voyage was bound to another place, before happily I was cast upon this shore, and though I call my selfe a Prince, I am a servant to my imploy­ments, and obey the Commission of a Father, the expence, and expectation of a Kingdome,

My Lord, if your imployments are so great, we would not make you guilty of a dishonorable Stay.

If with your leaves I shall depart, as a man that is pull'd from his delights, with a strong hand, being freed recoyles a­gaine to them, so speedy shall be my returne, and in my absence account al violence, that does detaine me, by that time too, your first troubles wil be setled, & you more fit to receive an idleman.

Our passion ought to give way unto your reason.

Aratus you are in a maze.

Hah, I must confesse I am so. These Princes play their parts so rarely, that there is nothing left for us, but wonder.

My Lord, shall we intreat you to beare us company unto the Temple: thither we're a going; to give that perfection to our joyes which yet is wanting, and for unusuall benefits offer unusuall thanks.

S ^r, I humbly crave your pardon, that thus tardily af­ter the people and your enemies, I present my service to you, and wish you happines.

I cannot be deceived, thou must be my Pallantus, ther's none can speake, or looke like thee, thy least resemblance is a­bove all men, 'tis noe wonder to see thee Chang'd, thy deede has thus transform'd thee, it sits upon thy brow and Casts a glory round about thy face.

Me thinks the times had such a vizor on, and till this day shewd not a true face, S ^r, you shall see him each day make new discoveries of virtues.

My Lord, you promise too highly for me.

Thou look'st sadly after all thy Honors.

So me thought, what can be the cause? A King they say's the best Physition for a discontent. If I cannot bring you comfort, I sacrifice in your behalfe.

S ^r, I bow to you. But that which is my greife will be noe longer mine alone, then while I doe conceale it, all that hears't will also have their share in it, 'tis a disease that good men catch meerely by the fantasy. Justice could never yet with all her care so carue out her punishment, but that the In­nocent were wounded with the blow, and felt the Judgement of another sinne, while with her Sword she cuts off the offen­ding parent the child is made an Orphan in the Cradle, and mournes hereafter because he had noe fault.

Whether doth this sad beginning tend?

To this S ^r, as we have slaine withall religion a bloody tyrant, one that was greater in his sinnes then in the King­dome he purchast by them. So too we have causelesse slayne the father of a Lady, that knew not so much guilt as to satisfie [Page] her, why shee lost him: for want of whose life she now con­temnes her owne, a Jewell of inestimable value with all that does behold it but her selfe, S ^r, you cannot call her an enemy, though her goodnesse hath stood against you, and preserved her Father so many yeeres in spite of all his sinnes, she ought to resist all piety if it were an enemy to her owne.

Her cause of greife is mighty, and if care be not taken, as their faults have donne the rest, her goodnesse will distroy her, we that beheld the past deformities, can beare witnes of her virtues, she was the only mine of honour, and when we have beene wearyed in seeking one graine, in her we could finde a treasure, nor wast a beauty set of onely with the blemishes of others, or foild by generall vices, but a reall, and a native excellence, which as it could not be obscured with thickest darkenesse: so neyther could it be outshind by other lights.

Her greife concernes us all, and ought to be considered before our joyes, beare these teares to her, we wish the ex­cesse of ours may lessen her's, and say that comfort which is left we will preserve, and carefully offer to her. Her brother with many of her friends are fled unto the Fort, and are there shut up — would I could give them life, what say you my Lord? may I doe this? Is not mercy in this place folly?

Sir, 'tis so at no time; you may doe this or any thing you have a minde too, even in your fantasiy there is a se­cret councell, and seeing that all your actions, nay all your pleasures, are in some exercise of virtue, we will not crosse you, but make it our greater care to preserve you in them, and have a more diligent eye least your pity may prove crewell to your selfe

You have given me resolution, hast presently unto 'em (twas their desire this morning to have conference with one of note) and if you find 'em fit for mercy or to be made fit, offert to 'um.

Noe answer yet returnd?

Not yet, Sir.

One Looke out againe.

[Page] Polyander, I remember I heard thee once say, when I condemnd thee for thy smiles, that if I had a cause thou wouldst frowne, why lookst thou sadly then? our fortunes ought rather to stirre our anger than our griefe.

Were they Sir, my misfortunes alone, and not yours, I would not now fall below my words, the greatest should not move any affection in me, unlesse it were some glory.

Theres now one arriv'd Sir, who certainely hath brought us newes.

Let us seate our selves before he enters, that he may see on what strength we doe demand, every man put on a face of mirth, now we are at a Banquet that will refresh us after all our toyle.

Now retire, but on the least call bee ready for to enter.

Who's this? doe any of you know him?

Not I my Lord.

Sir, y'are welcome, but wee invite you onely to looke on, these cates are not easie of digestion; the gods give not life more certaine than this gives death, doe you thinke you can endure the sight? would Aratus himselfe were heere, that once hee might bee satisfied with a spectacle of blood. You looke pale on us already, sure they have a plot upon you, and sent you hither to see your death, had they none to send us to behold our resolutions but such a trifle.

What shape can I put on, and thou not iniure mee in't. I never yet appeard to thee in any forme, but that I suffe­red by thee, at first I was thy feare, as all that were innocent did fright thee, because thou wert guilty I was banisht, not to remove me, but my death, which with treachery thou soughtst. And when I had, with wonder escapt thy inten­ded mischiefes, by chance thou wouldst have slaine mee when thou hadst no cause of hatred, my disguise wrongd thee not, twas as much a stranger to thee, as an inhabi­tant [Page] of remotest Africa —

I know thee now, thou needs not further de­clare thy selfe, and th'art come past all my wishes to satisfie my revenge.

Hold, I came to bring peace and not destruction, doe you yet perceive how vaine is all your malice?

If thou art that man thou would seeme to bee, and equally with me dost honour a dead father, yet (setting by these helpers) let us singly try our hatred; the grant of this will please above all our demands, I had rather see thee dead, or by this meanes not see thee live, then againe be Master of the fortunes I have lost, I am unfit for life. I shall but curse the givers of it.

If I thought so, I'de grant to your request, and kill you; I could doe it, I have strength, and justice enough to make me able, but you are not so bad, as you suppose, these are dispairing, and not malitious thoughts; yet ere I goe one way or other Ile give you satisfaction, I came for that intent. Let me see your Articles —

And if these may not be granted, that thus accompanied, wee may depart the Isle. How poore are these requests? without more commission I dare grant you greater. Why, these are de­mands within the compasse of a subjects breast, deceive not your selves, you were not so safe in your owne raigne, as in your e­nemies. The State is not translated from one tyranny to another, but to a kingdome. A Prince governes now, which is the name of mercy, as well as power, w ^ch he truly knowes, and in his first deeds desires to shew on you; he does not thinke he's then like Iove when he can thunder, but when he can hold it in, not when he is the voice of death, but when he sits harmelesse, with the power of death about him. Revenge, Torments, Executions, are not expressions of a king, but a distruction, he rivalls not the im­mortall powers in Temples, statues, adoration, but transcendent [Page] virtues, divine performances, these are the additions by which he climbes heaven, and appeares a god on earth.

Why should I bee a stranger to these virtues, more than this man? I was not borne for lesse things than he, certain­ly when nature made this frame, she intended it for the noblest actions.

Have you yet resolv'd on any thing?

If you will goe on, I can heare you still.

I will goe on in mercy, tis my commission, and if you will not dam against its streames, it may flow to you: yet the way is even; why looke you strangely at the word? tis no wonder to the sender of it, nor they which live about him. Though the dangers may seeme great, twere not worthy of the high name of his mercy, if the offence were not such. This is but the least of his expressions, that his enemies were courted for to live, but presently you thinke tis not to save you, but to deferre your death. A vaine thought, when can it be done more safely, and more justly, you are now as farre from those to help you, as to pity you. None but himselfe has any care of you. Tis true, there is a Lady that had a share in you, but with your honor you threw her off, nor can you claime an interest, when you have neglected her in all her miseries; not in your flight, your articles, no, not in your thoughts providing for her. And, had she not fallen into the hands of enemies that were servants too, to honour; you had throwne away a Jewell that had a first thought, even among the gods.

O Sir, you have underminde my pride, and remov'd me from that advantage ground I stood on, to my owne low height. These your last words comes neere unto me, and makes me with reverence beleeve all that you have spoken; before your virtues onely sturd my hate and envie, this deed first taught me to admire, and cannot doubt there is a want of any noblenesse, when you have shewne such passionate care in preserving a distressed Virgin, whom I durst not thinke of, least I should thinke too, of her dishonour.

Sir, keepe in your joy, wee doe not thinke our selves such high deservers, in doing that which barbarous people would have done, they which would have burnt the Temples, would have kneeld to her, and what duties they neglected to [Page] the Altar, would have paid at her feet. Thinke you wee could desire to save such enemies as you, and not adore an enemy of her virtues.

Give me not scorne and honour in the same breath, you have made me leave my selfe, hate me not now I am nothing.

Now I meete you: and first give me leave with this to throw away all danger that does threaten you.

Next my request is (if you dare trust me) to leave this place, and presently goe with me whether I shall lead you.

I breath, am warme—all alive—The Sunne shines too, I have not heard of any of his rayes in the other world. Tis earth I tread on at least, if I am not mounted higher, and yet I hope I am not in heaven, for let them say what they will, tis to bee dead to be there; and I like not the society, though they be Angels; what doe I see? I begin to mis-doubt, I doe behold some such shapes here. Faces heavenly, and di—Di­vine, or else my fantasie abuses me, if I be alive and on the earth, then there was poyson in that cup. A poxe o my curiositie,

what need I have car'd whether I had beene, so long as I found my selfe well? I should have got fearefull honour if I had drunke my share. By this I see 'twas not a dreame, nor swound I was in, but all true story. I did not thinke before, it had beene in the power of all the Kings in the world to have given mee life, when I was yet living; but these thoughts shall passe. And now Ile looke before me presently, Ile to the new Court, and though the King be chang'd, not despaire to be the same man.

My father, my brother, why doe you flye mee? your wellcome, and lov'd shapes. O my sad fantasie!

Madam, The King wishes you ioy and comfort.

The King, what King? oh.

And desires to visit you.

Returne all duty and service to the King.

Joy attend you Madam.

My Comforter.

Your unfortunate one, to see that litle he had wrought with much care so soone decay'd againe, yet I hope I shall this time be more happie in my cure, before I brought but Phy­sicke for your greife, but now I bring you joy it selfe, it makes me bold and assures me of my wellcome, though thus without leave I enter. He needs noe ceremony that can say your brother lives.

My brother? O where? and how? alas it cannot be, why doe yee mocke my sadnes? thus such false hopes as these make more wretched.

I dare not play with holy things, nor would I deferr your hopes, much lesse delu'd 'em; he came along with me, and stayd but till I had thus prepar'd his way: I know to have given him you, as you immagine, had beene twice onely to have taken him away, noe danger threatened him but his owne discontent. The King among his first cares provided for his safety: he shall himselfe confirme my words.

Pray stay, I doe beleeve and aske you pardon, but now I am certaine of him. I would not at first shew any signes of joy, I have thought a way to entertaine him, Rodia, fetch the paper that lyes within upon the Table, so: now S ^r, you may admit him.

Here let me alone be happy, without a covetous wish of what I have lost. O Eudora! wonder not at my excessive passion, misery layes stronger bonds of love then nature, and they are more one whom the same misfortune joynd together, then whom the same wombe gave life.

But stay my brother, I knowledge that you say most true, and was noe lesse surpriz'd at first to heare of this your safety, for when I once beleev'd you dead that you were alive againe, was a greater good then I could give credit to. But when I consider the cause of my greese and gladnesse: and [Page] found it was merely the name of brother, nay not so much the dishonor of our name onely, with teares I threw a­way, what with teares I sought for, looke on this unwor­thy man.

Heere you are discected, and see if I ought to mourne for any part being lost, or rejoyce for any that safe in the whole Anotamy.

O be not too severe, but suddenly give that joy you have prepared for him.

Now I meet your love, pardon me my brother, I was to rejoyce at this your sadnesse, before I could share with you in another joy.

Madam, the King's hard by.

The King?

Yes, he sent before that he would visite me, what will you doe?

Not see him willingly at this time.

Sir, you need not, he understands the nature of, your losses, and will not expect so suddenly to see you.

Stay within till he be gone.

Madam, I'le meet the King, and meete upon him in.

Did you say this was the King's mercy?

I did Madam.

And does she know of it yet?

She lives onely by the favour.

Madam, fall not so low, we have already too much dejected you, and would our selves gladly submit in recompence, y'are still in the esteeme of all, that which you have beene, not by the sinnes of others but by your owne [Page] indowments, admired Princesse, and may a curse light, light on those, who shall dare to unthrone a Majesty which the gods themselves have seated; we are come confident in these your virtues, that you will not disdaine when nobly we endeavour it, to have your greife lessened by your enemies, Madam, though unpropper, yet we are willing comfor­ters, and have as true a sence of what you suffer as those, who in a neerer name doe share their losses with you.

S ^r, admit me to kneele before you, I ought not to stand an equall height with Majesty, and vertue, so much a­bove me, what undeserving name is due to me, when you are pleas'd to call your selfe an enemy, if you are one, it is to your selfe, in thus prefering your mercy before your safety, you have given my brother life, to bring your owne in danger, and removed my greife, which hereafter may be the cause of it to your selfe. S ^r, thinke me unworthy, but not a scorner, of these favours, were my sorrowes heaver. (Thus offerd) twere but religion to bow, and to receive 'em,

You make us all happy, and shew a virtue above your sex, in being able so much to love, and yet to loose a Father, if still you can resist this passion, and rejoyce with us, with you we will observe your dayes of mourning. We are now going to pay some Funerall duties to our dead predecessor, for your sake so we will ever call him. Spare these teares, and we will weepe them for you, mourne all as if we had lost a generall parent.

Sir, there is much joy in them, which the softenesse of your words, and not my greife causeth to flow from me.

Fame, thou spokst loudly of these Ladyes, and yet thy voyce was narrow in their Prayse.

I have past hitherto, and perceive noe great alteration, I thought the subversion of a State would have made such a clatter among the houses, and ther's no such matter, it has not chang'd a suite of hangings heere, yonders our Princesse too, I am among friends, now fortune direct me, which is the King — The least change that ever I saw, nay then I perceive I may doe even what I list.

My Lord Comastes?

Your servant my Lord, I hope you have forgot all those litle unkindnesses that past betwixt us, and will speake a noble word in my behalfe unto the yong King.

Ha, ha, ha, wouldst thou be foole againe.

No my Lord, you know I was never call'd so in the last raigne.

Ha, ha, ha, why I tell thee the King's too serious, he ne­ver laughes nor smiles, but very seldome, and then 'tis still at something excellent, he hates a jeast, looke, twice he hath cast his eye upon thee, and yet keeps his countenance, dispaire of ever pleasing him, ther's noe mirth that thou canst make, worthy to be compared with this thy misery.

My Lord, who's that?

One S ^r, that was master of the dead King's mirth, he never laught without his allowance. Twas in his power to have jeasted any head off in the whole Kingdome, but I thinke he was never guilty of any other sinne, but Lux­ury.

What does he expect?

To hold the same place under you.

S ^r, we understand you, and your desires, goe leave the Court upon your life, be not seene in't after this day, and looke hereafter warily to your actions, if you deserve a light judge­ment you shall feele the Heauyest

Stay my Lord, you have doom'd him as if you had beene witnesse of his follyes, and if there were not hopes, that he might redeeme hereafter what he has so ill spent, he does deserue a greater punishment; I beseech you Sir, let me intreat for him, he is yet young, and if he have leave, may be virtuous, continue as you have begunne, to change the men, and not destroy 'em: he thrust him­selfe with confidence on your mercy, let it not be said that was a Snare to any, besides you have made this place a Sanctuary to all those who can claime an interest in that ex­cellent Lady.

My Lord, I would be ever taught thus by you. Sir, I recall what I have said, and wish to see those virtues we see in you.

Ile not despaire to be Master of them:

'Twas the desire of favour with my King, that made me what I was before, and shame now for to remember. But seeing I am to please another way, and make virtue my endeavour, un­wearied in those ragged waies, Ile toyle to gaine your smiles.

My Lord, do'e still intend to leave us so suddenly, as tomorrow. If I durst presume so much of you [...] ill entertaine­ment, I would perswade you to a longer stay.

Sir, I have found a royall wellcome, such as cannot be betterd but by your owne wishes, which are the onely things above your actions. Yet ere I goe, I have a request to you, but 'tis such as I must not receive, unlesse another will bee content to aske it for me, you are the man, my Lord, and your company I desire, which if I can obtaine, I dare promise to my selfe a vi­ctorious enterprise.

Sir, you much honor me, and intreat mee to that I am most ambitious of, my will I freely offer, but the greater part is wholly devoted to your service Sir, and none besides ought to dispose of it.

I thus give it with the rest, by this request, My Lord, I perceive youle keepe your word, and suddenly returne, you would not else at once bereft us of your selfe, and so neere a servant.

How gladly I would thinke my selfe so much con­cernd, as to aske a leave of you, but I have ever made my selfe a stranger to you or whats worse, a knowne enemy, and can expect onely ill wishes from you.

Sir, I thinke not so, you have deserv'd better from me, and if I give you not a leave, tis because I am loath to have you goe, twas you confirm'd my life, when I thought it not in the power of Art, or heaven to have done it, and that before I made not these large expressions, twas because they then became me not, if I had owed lesse, I would have said more.

You have given mee a happinesse, which neither envy, malice, nor the worst of fortune can take from me. I stand the onely man above the stroke of Fate, may I hope to see that ioy dwell in your face againe, which I was never yet so blest as to behold?

You may.

And will you leave off these mourning Habits?

I will: I will doe that that's noble.

I hope I understand you, and that I may yet expect a happinesse, equall to the happinesse of this day. Hitherto our Kingdome hath been like the Kingdome of the gods. Felicity upon felicity, joy crow'nd with joy; and though this day concluded what it hath begun. I have raign'd a perfect raigne, having beheld in few howers the numerous changes of an age.