THE ROYALL MASTER; As it was Acted in the new Theater in Dublin: AND Before the Right Honorable the Lord Deputie of Ireland, in the Castle.

Written by IAMES SHIRLEY▪

—Fas extera quaerere rigna.

LONDON, [...]

To the Right Honorable, GEORGE Earle of Kildare, Baron of Opbalie, and Primier Earle of the Kingdome of Ireland.

My Lord,

IT was my happinesse be­ing a stranger in this kingdome, to kisse your Lordships hands, to which your noblenesse, and my owne ambition encourag'd me, nor was it without justice to your name, to tender the first fruits of my observance to your Lord­ship, whom this Isl [...]nd acknowledgeth her first native Ornament and top branch of Ho­nour. Be pleased now my most honorable Lord, since my Affaires in England hasten my departure, and prevent my personall atten­dance, [Page] that something of me may be honourd to waite upon you in my absence, this Poeme; tis new, and never yet personated, but ex­pected with the first, when the English Stage shall bee recovered from her long si­lence, and her now languishing scene chan­ged into a welcome returne of wits and men; And when by the favour of the winds and Sea, I salute my Country againe, I shall report a story of the Jrish honour, and hold my selfe not meanely fortunate to have beene writ­ten and receiv'd

The humblest of your Lordships servants. IAMES SHIRLE [...].

To my Ingenious Friend, James Shir­ley, upon his Royall Master.

AS a rich [...]gemme e [...]chac'd in gold affords
More radiant lustre to the gazers eye
Inprison'd so, within it selfe it hoords
Vp all the beamy treasures of the skie,
Beames loose reflex on bodies diaphane
But cast on solids they rebound againe,
So would thy lines my Friend in paper pent
Contract the whole applauses of the age,
But should they a neg [...]ected ornament
Be soly made the study of the Stage,
They might like water in the Sunshine set
Retaine his image, not impart his heate.
Then Print thy Poem Shirley, 'twere a fault
To dungion this instructive peece of thine,
Had the Sunnes Spheare beene made a thicke rib'd vault,
We had receiv'd no influence from his shine;
Thou shouldst die traitour to succeeding times,
And thy best vertues prove but splend [...]d crimes.
IAMES M [...]RVYN.

On M r. James Shirley's Royall Master.

SVch curious eyes as in a Poeme looke
For the most part, doe finde the printed booke
With verses frontispic'd, to shew their wit
In praise of the authors which occasions it,
[Page] And I have seene some peeces, that have stood
In neede of witnesses to prove them good.
This Poets skill is here so clearely showne
In offering light to his they dimme their owne,
For all that with unsquinted eyes shall see
This well limb'd pecce of polish'd poesie,
In justice to themselves must needes confesse
Friends cannot adde, nor envie make it lesse.
FRA. BVTLER.

Vpon M r. James Shirley his Comedy, cal'd The Royall Master.

VVHen Spencer reign'd sole Prince of Poets here,
As by his Fairy Queene doth well appeare
There was not one so blind, so bold a Bard,
So ignorantly proud or foolish-hard
To encounter his sweete Muse; for Phoebus vow'd
A sharp: revenge on him should be so proud;
And when my Shirley from the Albion shore
Comes laden with the Muses, all their store
Transferres to Dublin, full Parnassus brings,
And all the riches of Castalian Springs;
Shall we not welcome him with our just votes?
And shall we doo't with harsh and envious notes?
No no, Thalia, Envy shall not sit
So high above our judg [...]ment, and our wit,
As not to give just merit his due praise,
And crowne thy Poet with deserved Bayes▪
Shirley stand forth, and put thy Lawrell on,
Phoebus next heire, now Ben is dead and gone,
Truly legitimate, Ireland is so just
To say, you rise the Phenix of his dust,
And since thy Royall Master won so much
On each Iudicious and hath stood the touch,
[Page] Tis fit he should more then private, when
He weares two Crownes, their votes, and thy smooth penne.
DRV. COOPER.

On the Royall Master, to his Friend the Author.

SMooth and unsullied lines, keepe on your way,
From envies Ioss'le free, a cleare ey'd day
Smiles on your triumph; onely thus to blame,
Too lavish is your sacrifice to fame.
Lesse of such perfume, to succeeding age,
The dead would sweeten, and enbalme the Stage;
Here is a pile of incense, every line
Heapes on fresh Narde, your Muse cannot decline
To intermissions, some leave hills, by turnes
Flame, and expire his Etna ever burnes.
RIC. BELLING.

To my deserving Friend M r. James Shirley on his Royall Master.

I Like some petty Brooke scarse worth a name,
Must yet pay tribute to thy full-stream'd fame,
But Ile not strive, (as men sometimes) to raise
An uncouth structure to thy merits praise
From others ruines, thy just minde will scorne
To owne Encomiums so basely borne.
Therefore I write, what may become my free
Acknowledgment, and fit thy modestie.
[Page] Thy Muse I honor'd, e're I knew by sight
Thy person; oft I've seene with much delight
Thy sweete composures: but this last; and new
Smooth peece (which here hath grac'd the publicke view)
Cl [...]imes more regard; I give to all the rest
Their faire desert, but ranke this with thy best.
T. I.

To his much esteemed Friend M r. James Shirley, on his Royall Master.

YOu who the readers are of the choice wit,
And have the leading voice in censuring it,
Whose votes Grand [...] jurors are, and onely have
The well knowne power either to kill or save,
Give this a noble greeting and its due,
May Phoebus else, withdraw his beames from you.
My worthy Friend, this Play 'oth publicke Stage
Hath gain'd such faire applause, as 't did engage
A nation to thy Muse, where thou shalt raigne
Vicegerent to Apollo, who doth daigne
(His darling Ben deceased) thou should'st be
Declar'd the heire apparant to his tree.
W. MARKHAM.

To the Honour'd Author of the Royall Master.

DEare Friend I joy my love hath found the meanes
To waite upon, and vindicate thy scenes
From some few scruples of the weaker sex,
Whose nicer thoughts their female minds perplex.
[Page] (For man he sinkes if he but censure, none
Dare deprave Kings Inaug [...]ration)
Say they, what makes the King in his dispose
So Icy-temperd, as he frankly throwes
Freedome on all except himselfe? contrives▪
The way for other men [...] a purchase wives?
Takes joy to forward propagation,
By Nuptiall knot, yet to himselfe ties none?
Prettie poore fooles, and Virgins! how you'r kind
(Vulgar like) are in apprehension blind;
Come reade, you'le see when you this peece peruse
The Royall Masters Spouse is Shirlies Muse;
Why then to him, and her, an altar raise,
Tapers are set, flaming with equall praise
See, see, his Genius gracefully doth bend
To the just vote of every loving friend;
The elevated Circle is upheld
Betwixt the binall Cherubs palmes, beheld
By all judicious eyes; the heart, the voice
Of all ingenious doe applaud the choice
Of your great Royall Master, say, they'ue found
Two Monarkes with one glorious Laurell crownd.
W. SMITH.

To his worthy Friend the Author.

ALL these thy friends subscribing to thy praise
And faire deservings, have done well, [...]twill raise
Opinion in the readers, and engage
Them to peruse, what wee saw on the Stage.
If knowing ones, their judgement thus will be
The Commondation's short, the Comedy
Speakes better for it selfe, more home; but yet
My vote must goe, I say no purer wit
[Page] Did ever grace the sc [...]ne, n [...]y 'it hath in't
Expressions of so new, and rich a Mint,
That the old Poets well might wish the name
Of this new Play were added to their fame.
IOHN OGLE [...]Y [...].

To the much honoured, James Shirley upon his Royall Master.

LEt no man thinke, I hither coldly came
On purpose to commend, or to seeke fame
By this impression, that world may [...]ay,
What is this Iackson that commends the play?
Though tis a grace, to stand as Courtiers use
To usher in the reader to thy Muse,
Yet by the way, Ile tell him I have read
The Lawes of Flaccus with a serious head,
And that according to those statutes there
(Never to be repeal'd) thy Poems are,
Thy discreete stile is elegantly plaine,
In Sock and Buskin, proper to each veine
Of Time, Place, Person, and that all thy wit
Is not by chance but regularly writ;
Nor dost thou gall the Theater, we may
Be acted every man, yet see thy play
Invisible, so curious is thy Pen
Which can at once, would heale, and better men,
Therefore will I hereafter cease to mourne
For those great wits, commended to the Vrne,
And if't be true, that transmigrations be
They are in Shirley all, for ought I see.
IOHN IACSON.

On M. James Shirley his Royall Master.

THere are some men doe hold, there i [...] a place
Cal'd Limbus Patrum if such have the grace
To wave that Schisme, and Poetarum said
They of that saith had me a member made,
That Limbus I could have [...]eleev'd thy braine
Where Beamont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, & a traine
Of glorious Poets in their active heate
Move in that Orbe, as in their former seate.
When tho [...] began'st to give thy Master life,
Me thought I saw them all, with friendly strife
Each casting in his dose, Beamont his weight,
Shakespeare his mirth, and Fletcher his conceit,
With many more ingredients, with thy skill
So sweetely tempered, that the envious quill
And tongue of Critricks must both write and say,
They never yet beheld a smoother Play.
IAMES MERVYN.

THE FISRT ACT.

Enter King of Naples, the Duke of Florence, Mon­talto, Octavio, Riviero, Andrugi [...], Guido, Aloigi [...], Alexio.
Duke
Y'Are great in all that's good.
King
You shew the bounty
Of your opinion; my extent in all things
Is but to bid you welcome; you had a sister,
The envy of the Angels whilst she lived
Our Queene, now made their blest companion;
Should wee exempt those faire deserts dwell in you,
So much we owe her memory.
Duke
Pray no more.
Rivi.
We must not be too open, truest friend,
Thy bosome is my Sanctuary.
Andr.
When it leaves
To be Religious for thy safety, may it
By an angry flame from heaven, be turnd to ashes.
Duke
Your nature is too soft; let not the mention
Of her that was my sister, and you Queene
Beget another sigh; she was long since blest;
[Page] Cesaria [...] in heav [...]n; we are met for joyes;
You were not framed to be her Monument;
Sleepe let her ashes in the urne, conteines 'em.
King.
I ha done.
Enter Theodosia, Ladies.
D [...] ▪
Your sister.
King.
Is all the treasure
Is left me sir, but cannot be too rich
For your acceptance.
Duke.
All my wealth is summ'd
When shee does smile upon me, and her Character
In the full glory, when shee's nam'de your sister;
Are you not weary of a guest deare Madam?
Am I still welcome?
Theo.
Sir wee are
All honour'd in your presence; and though not high
To your merit, yet your entertainement is,
As full of love, as nature can expresse
To a twin brother, more I dare presume,
You shall accuse your selfe, if you be lesse,
A Prince in Naples by free use of power,
Then your owne Florence.
Duke.
Madam you must b [...]
Lesse faire, and powerfull in tongue, if you
Expect I should be still a Prince; and yet
My ambition will be high, and glorious
Enough to be receiv'd your Graces servant;
For whom I should account my age no travell,
To have my pilgrimage rewarded with
Your faire eyes Madam, able to create
Another life and spirit in old Nature.
King.
How does Montalto like the Duke?
Montal.
Sir, Naples cannot study an addition
Of fame, beyond what this alliance will
Deserve in future story; the excesse
Of what is good, nay excellent in him
would stocke a barren Province.
King▪
Tis our happinesse.
Monta.
[Page]
But 'tis not mine; for though I thus disg [...]uise
My face, and tongue, my heart is my owne friend,
And cannot wish my ambition supplanted
By any smooth chin'd Prince alive; my Lords—
Andr.
Look how they flock, and fawne upon his greatnes;
These are his creatures, by his power plac'd
So neare about the King, he can heare nothing
Of his great favorite, but what their flattery
And partiall tongues convey into his eare.
Rivi.
Pitty so sweete a nature as the Kings
Should be abus'd by Parasites; but I may
In time dissolve these court mists, that so long
Have hung upon't, and render the Kings eyes
[...]ee to distinguish objects, if there be
No witchcraft ex [...]rciz'd upon his senses.
1 lady.
My Lord you are very pleasant.
Octav.
Is it not
Becomming the discretion of a young
[...]ourtier to observe times and methods; and when Madam
Are you for this ma [...]ch?
1 Lady.
What my Lord?
Octav.
You wod not
Be sad at heart, to sleepe with such a bedfellow
As the Duke is?
2 Lady.
How my Lord?
Octav.
Provided
Matrimony were not farre of; y [...]t without it
There are some Ladies, would excuse their modestie,
And meete and thinke their fate at all adventures,
If no worse man would make their husband of
The honorable order of the night-cap.
1 Lady.
When will you marry my Lord?
Octav.
I am young;
Yet when I am ripe to grapple with a maidenhead,
The Lord Montalto the great Court Patron
Will help me to a wife.
2 Lady.
You are bound to his Lordship.
Octav.
And so I am Madam, if you knew all;
[Page] I have many obligations to his honour,
But there is one writ here, whose memory
Will keepe my soule awake.
King.
Andrugio—
Guido.
I doe not like their conference.
Mont.
'Las he has no imployment in the state;
He waites like a dull cipher and I have
My spies upon him; if I finde him busie,
My power with the king shall soone transplant him,
Or force him like Riviero his old friend,
But of more braine and faction, to give up
His ghost abroad.
Aloi.
'Twas just for your owne safety.
Monta.
This is an honest easy Nobleman,
Allowed to weare some Court formallity;
Walke on the tarres, picke his teeth, and stroake
Vpon a festivall some golden sentence
Out of his beard, for which the guard admire him,
And cry him up a Statesman; hee's sent off
When he is troublesome to a phlegmaticke clime
A dull Embassadour; no, that Duke, Guido,
Is all my feare, but I have contrived something
May rectifie my fate.
Duk.
How much you honour me;
But you might spare all other entertainements
And bravery of Court; they may affect
My eyes with wonder, and obliege my just
Acknowledgement, but all their glorie's met
Into one height, hold no proportion
To inflame my heart, or more expresse my welcome
Then this your free grace Madam, and those hopes
That blesse my imagination from your favour.
Theo.
I am but wh [...]t my brothers love, and vertue
Will make me; but there's nothing that can move
With his consent, I shanno [...] fl [...]e to obey.
Mont.
I had rather feede upon his heart;
You promis'd Sir the Duke to hunt this morning.
King.
I had forgot; will you be plea [...]'d to try
[Page] The pleasures of a Forrest.
Duke.
Ile attend.
King.
Theodosia, you are not for that exercise Guido.
whispers and sends Guido off.
Theo.
I wish all pleasures waite upon you;
My heart must covet your returne.
Duke.
And mine,
To dwell for ever in so faire a bosom [...].
King.
To horse; the morning wasts.
Mon.
Some policie
Must cure this feare; my bold resolves are fixt;
I have made some attempts, and courted her,
But shee h [...]s not understood me; I must worke
By countermine and scatter into aire
His swelling hopes: Octavio—
Exit.
Octav.
My good Lord.
Andr.
Sir I present this Gentl [...]man to kisse
Your hand; hee's the Dukes secretary, a Roman
Borne, and has a great ambition
To be knowne to you for your fathers sake,
With whom he did converse in Rome, and honour,
Till death concluded their acquaintance.
Octav.
Sir,
Your love, and knowledge of my father will
Deserve you should be welcome to his sonne.
Rivi.
He made me his companion many yeares;
No brothers were more chain'd in their aff [...]ctions.
He did impart much of his bosome to me.
Octav.
You knew why he left Naples?
Rivi.
He did trust me, with the cause my Lord, and every circumstance
The Kings minoritie, and Montaltoes power,
Gainst which no innocent could plead in Naples.
Andr.
Not to loud Sir; you may be heard.
Rivi.
Your pardon.
Octav.
Why should truth
Faint at the name of greatnesse? this Colossus
Montalto is but mortall sure; time has
Forgot to use his wings, or nature is
Vnwilling I should grow to write full man,
[Page] To take rev [...]nge upon that polititian,
Our Protean favourite.
Rivi.
It is my wonder
The King so strangely should continue this
Affection to Montalto.
Octav.
There's some magicke in 't.
Rivi.
Dare none complaine.
Andr.
His engines are so plac'd
None can approach the kings eare, at which hang
So many flatterers to infect it with
Montaltoes praise.
Rivi.
Pray give me sir this boldnesse;
Hee that doth lift an Axe to strike the roote
Of any family, cannot be without
A thought to wound the branches; you were left.
By computation, but an Infant when
Your fathers discontents, and faction of
This Montalto made him forsake Naples,
Which added to your mothers death, the guard
And comforts of your life, were taken from you;
Having exprest this malice to your father,
A thousand wayes he might have sent you to
Another world, and taken off all feare
Of a revenge; how comes it that you live,
And vis [...]it Sir the Pallace with this freedome?
Octav.
My Lord Andrugios knowledge of you Sir▪
Is my assurance of your faith.
Andr.
Ile give
You reasons at some opportunity▪
Not to repent your confidence.
Octav.
You have
Supplied my fathel in your care of me.
I live? why I am this great Lords favorite,
Courted, his creatures are my honours
Companion to his pleasures.
Rivi.
I observ'd
Some gestures very loving to your Lordship.
Octav.
The King himselfe for his sake gracing me▪
[Page] With title of his bed-chamber.
Rivi.
Tis stange;
This newes will coole my resolution.
Andr.
Tis truth he doth ingage him to all favours.
Rivi.
Tis not impossible he may be honest.
Octa.
And meane so; but my soule cannot be brib'd
So easily to prostrate my owne justice
And leave my fathers ashes unreveng'd
Which in my eare groane from beneath the Marble
To keepe my thoughts awake.
Andr.
We may suspect
This is to catch applause a tricke to winne
Vpon the people who did love Riviero
And mourne his fate.
Octav.
How ever I have art
To keepe my breast close, and accept his flatteries,
Can complement, and with officious bend
Thanke his high favours, weare a face of mirth
And prattle with the Ladies as if all
The businesse I came into the world for,
Were but to talke and dance, and goe a feasting.
Rivi.
I must presume, you want no counsell from
My Lord who loved your father, how to manage
Your selfe to best advantage of your [...]ame
And honour; unto both I am a servant.
Andr.
My Lord Montalto may expect you Sir.
Rivi.
It is not safe we be observ'd too much.
Octav.
My Lord you have begun a favour by
The acquaintance of this Gentleman; I will
Hope to salute him often by your meanes;
You shall not meete a heart more prompt to bid
You welcome Sir.
Rivi.
You too much grace your servant;
I shall present a trouble.
Octav.
Come my Lord.
Exit.
Rivi.
Montaltoes change hath staggard me already;
These favours may be hearty to Octavio,
And argument of penitence; Ile observe
[Page] And sift his close heart; if it prove unsound,
He whets revenge to make the deeper wound
Exit.
Enter Guido, Bombo.
Guid.
I would speake with your Lady Sir.
Bom.
You may.
Guid.
Direct me.
Bom.
With which of my Ladies.
Guid.
With both, or one.
Bom.
I serve the daughter.
Guid.
I would speake with her.
Bom.
Shee is—I know not where.
Guid.
What Coxcombe's this.
Enter Iacamo.
Guid.
Dost heare friend, I would speake with my Lady
Simphorosa.
Iacam.
This way and please your Lordship.
Guid.
Stay preethe; what fellowe's that?
Iacam.
A servant of my Ladies.
Guid.
Is he mad?
Iaca.
A little phantasticke, but very harmelesse,
And makes my Ladies merry; my young Madam
Domitilla calls him her secretary for sport▪
And wonder of his good parts.
Guid.
What are they?
Iaca.
He can neither write nor reade.
Guid.
An excellent Secretary.
Iaca.
But he has beene much given to 't,
To reading, till much poring night and day
Made him booke blinde; and defying spectacles,
He walkes and thinkes he is wise, and talkes upon
His old stocke.
Guid.
Preethe acquaint my Lady; 'ith meane time
Ile have more dialogue with him;
Save you Sir.
Bom.
Save your selfe Sir; you are I tak't a Courtier▪
Guid.
And you my Ladies Secretary.
Bom.
I am so.
Guid.
I heare you are an understanding Secretary.
Bom.
[Page]
Tis so, I am; how came you by that knowledge▪
Guid.
We have your same at Court Sir.
Bom.
Can you reade?
Guid.
I heare you cannot.
Bom.
Right.
Guid.
Nor write.
Bom.
Tis true.
Guid.
What make you with a booke? ha this is Euclid.
Bom.
Euclid; it may be so.
Guid.
Why these are Mathematickes.
Bom.
I have a Chest full of them in my custody;
They were my old Lords, gray when I tooke charge on 'em
But now looke spruce and young; there's something in 'em.
Gu.
What in the name of ignorance dost thou doe with 'em.
Bom.
I am excellent at turning over leaves,
By which I keepe the wormes away.
Guid.
Most learnedly.
Bom.
I learnt it of my Ladies Chaplaine Sir;
Men are not alwayes bound to understand
Their Library; but to omit learning,
Not now consider'd by wise men, what is
Your businesse here I pray?
Guid.
It does concerne
Your selfe; the King has heard of your good parts.
Bom.
Sir, as you love me say you saw me not;
I knew I should one time or other be
Found out for state imployments; heer's my Lady.
Enter Simphorosa, Domitilla,
I must obscure my selfe.
Domit.
Why how now Secretary,
Whether so fast.
Bom.
You little thinke.
Domit.
What preethe.
Bom.
Nor ever would beleeve; but tis not my faul [...]
If the King come in person, Ile not be seene.
Domit.
The King.
Bom.
Few words; there's one I know him not
I [...] little better then a spy upon me;
[Page] If you looke not to me I am gone.
Exit.
Domit.
So it seemes.
Simp.
How? dine to day with us.
Guid.
Such is his r [...]yall pleasure;
He is now hunting with the Duke, whom he
Intends to make your guest too.
Simp.
My Lord I am not us'd to entertainements,
Nor is my house sit for so great a presence;
To avoide a storme they might obey
Necessity, and take it for some shelter,
But in so calme a day.
Guid.
Madam although
You please to undervalew what's your owne,
The King despaires not you will bid him welcome;
You have no narrow dwelling, and he knowes
Your heart is spacious like your fortunes Madam;
Princes doe honour when they come upon
Their subjects invitation, but they love
Where they invite themselves.
Simp.
My duty is
To meete that interpretation, though the newe [...]
Come unexpected; now it will my Lord
Become me to be thrifty of the minut [...],
Their persons being so neare; you will excuse
If so short summons doe expect my care
To entertaine 'em; my good Lord you have honor'd me.
Guid.
Tis service I am bound to.
Exit Simpho.
Domit.
Pray my Lord.
In your opinion, what should moove the King
To invite himselfe our guest, and bring the Duke
Along with him; he us'd not to retire
From hunting with this ceremony.
Guid.
Princes
Are like the windes, and not to be examin'd
Where they will breath their favours.
Domit.
Tis confest
An honour to us, and I hope you'le pardon
A womans curiositie.
Guid.
[Page]
Shall I
Deliver my opinion; while the King
In entertainement of the Duke is shewing
The pleasures and the glories of his kingdome
He cannot hide, that which his Naples boasteth,
Her greatest ornament your beauty Madam.
Domit.
I thanke your Lordship; I may now beleeve
The court's remooving hither; yet this language
Might doe you service to some other Lady
And I release it willingly; your complements
I know my Lord are much worse for wearing
Guid.
You rather will beleeve your selfe worth praise
Then heare it; though we call it modesty,
It growes from some thing like a womans pride▪
But it becomes you Madam; I take leave;
My service to your noble Lady mother.
Exit Guido.
Domit.
Mine shall attend your Lordship.
Enter Simphorosa.
Simp.
Now Domitilla, is my Lord gone?
Dom.
Yes Madam.
Simp.
I expected not▪
These guests to day, they'le take us unprepard.
Domit.
Not with our hearts to serve 'em, and their goodnes
Will excuse other want.
Simp.
I know not daughter,
But I could wish rather to enjoy our selves,
Not for the cost, those thoughts are still beneath me.
Dom.
You have cause to feare I hope y'are troubled.
Simp.
For thy sake Domitilla.
Dom.
Mine deare Madam.
Simp.
It was for thee I chose this quiet life
Vpon thy fathers death, and left the court;
Thou art all my care, sole heire to all my fortunes,
Which I should see unwillingly bestowed.
On some gay prodigall.
Dom.
I cannot [...]each
Your meaning.
Simp.
By some hastie marriage.
Dom.
[Page]
You would have me live a Virgin; a lesse fortune
Would serve me for a Nunne.
Sim.
Tis not my thought;
Thou art young and faire and though I doe not
Suspect thy minde, thus farre bred up to vertue,
I would not have it tempted but reservde
For a most noble choise, wherein should meet
My care and thy obedience.
Dom.
Y'are my mother,
And have so farre by your example taught me,
I Shall not neede the precepts of your vertue,
And let no thought of me take from your cheerefulnesse
To entertaine the King; we owe him duty,
And that charme wo'not hurt us.
Sim.
This does please me.
Dom.
It shall be still my study.
Sim.
I must see
How they prepare, things may want method else.
Exit Simphorosa.
Enter Octavio.
Octa.
I kisse your faire hand Madam Domitilla;
The King and Duke and all the jolly hunters
With appetites as fierce as their owne hounds,
Will be here presently.
Dom.
I hope they will not
Devoure us my good Lord.
Octa.
But I would sit and feast and feed mine eyes
With Domitillaes beauty.
Dom.
So my Lord; here was a gentleman
You could not choose but meete him spake your dialect;
I have forgot his name, but he was some
Great Lord.
Octa.
Fye what a ignorance you live in,
Not to be perfect in a great Lords name;
There are few Ladies live with us but know
The very Pages; leave this darkenesse Madam▪
And shine in your owne sphere, where every starre
Hath his due adoration.
Dom.
Where?
Octav.
[Page]
Th [...] Court
Confine such beauty to a Countrey house▪
Live among Hindes, and thicke skind fellowes that
Make faces, and will hop a furlong backe
To finde the tother leg they threw away
To shew their reverence; with things that squat
When they should make a curtsey; to Court Madam,
And live not thus for shame, the second part
Of a fond Anchorite; we can distinguish
Of beauty there, and wonder without spectacles,
Write Volumes of your praise, and tell the world
How envious diamonds, cause they could not
Reach to the lust [...]re of your eyes dissolv'd
To angry teares; the Roses droope, and gathering
Their leaves together, seeme to chide their blushes
That they must yeeld your cheeke the victory:
The Lillies when they are censur'd for comparing
With your more cleare and native purity
Want white to doe their pennance in.
Dom.
So, so;
Have you done now my young poeticke Lord.
Octav.
There will be no end Madam of your praises.
Dom.
And to no end you have spent all this breath;
Allow all this were wit, that some did thinke us
The creatures they commend (and those whom love
Hath curst into Idolatry and verse
May perhaps die so) wee doe know our selves
That we are no such things.
Octa.
Ist possible.
Dom.
And laugh at your Chimeraes.
Octa.
Y'are the wiser.
Dom.
If this be your court practise, let me dwell
With truth and plaine simplicity.
Octa.
If I
Might have my choyse, I would live with you Madam▪
A neighbour to this innocence; your mother.
Enter Simphorosa.
The king is come already.
[Page] Enter King, Duke, Montalto, Guido, Aloisio, Alexio.
King.
Madam though you are
So unkinde as not to see the court sometime,
Th [...] court is come to visit you.
Sim.
You have
Humbled your selfe too much to do [...] us honour.
King.
The Duke of Florence.
Sim.
Tis a blessing that
My roofe can boast so great a guest.
King.
Her daughter
Worth your salute.
Duke.
Shee is worth a world my Lord,
What is that Lad [...]es name?
Mont.
In this you most
Appeare a stranger; shee is the glory
Of Naples, for her person and her vertues
That dwells in this obscure place like the shrine
Of some great Saint, to which devotion
From severall parts brings daily men like pilgrimes.
Duke.
Her name.
Mont.
Shee is wit, beauty, chastity, and all
That can make woman lovely to mans soule,
So farre from the capacitie of ill
That vertues in all other of her Sex
Like staines, but fit of her perfection▪
And when is named all goodnesse in her titles,
The ornament, nay glory of them all
Is Domitilla Sir.
Duke.
You speake her high,
And I may guesse by your description
My Lord, this Lady hath another name▪
Shee is your mistresse.
Mont.
Not mine; she was created for some Prince,
And can beside her [...] bring a fortune
Worth his embrac [...].
Duke.
What charmes are in her lookes.
Mont.
Are you there Duke; this meeting was my project;
[Page] Things may succeede to my ambition,
If I doe noose your highnesse.
Sim.
Please your Majestie.
King.
All things must please here.
Duke.
I follow Sir.
Sim.
This is a grace I ever must be proud of.
Exeunt.

The second Act.

Bombo, Iacam [...].
Bom.
Have th [...]y almost dined? stay, stay a little:
Iaca.
The last course is o'th table;
Why doe not you waite?
Bom.
That were a way indeede to be discovered▪
No, the King shall pardon me; he has
Not seene me yet for all his cunning▪
Iaca.
Whom doe you meane.
Bom.
The King; thou art ignorant
Ile tell thee after dinner; 'ith meane time
Direct a wandring bottle of wine this way
And let me alone though I appeare not in't
I may have a humour to make a Maske if they
Stay supper.
Iac.
Thou make a Maske.
Bom.
I doe not say Ile write one, for I ha' not
My writing tongue, though I could once have read,
But I can give if neede be the designe,
Make worke among the Deale board [...], and perhaps
Can teach 'em as good language as another
Of competent ignorance; things goe not now
By learning; I have read 'tis but to bring
Some pretty impossibillities, for Antemaskes
A little sence and wit dispos'd with thrift,
With here and there Monsters to make 'em laugh;
For the grand businesse to have Mercury
Or Venus Da [...]deprat to usher in
[Page] Some of the gods that are good fellowes dancing,
Or goddesses, and now and then a song
To fill a gap; a thousand crownes perhaps
For him that made it, and theres all the wit.
Iaca.
In what?
Bom.
In getting of the money.
Iaca.
You are witty signior Bombo to advance
The muse, Ile fetch a bottle that you talk'd o',
Exit.
Bom.
If there be a superfluous Phesant
Twill quell my hunger for a time; I heare
Intelligence of an Oleo; if any
Such things may be recovered from the courtiers
That have [...]eene appetites upon hunting dinners;
You shannot neede to enquire much after me.
Enter Iacamo.
I shall be here abouts; why thou hast wings.
Iaca.
A bottle of rich wine.
Bom.
Thou wert alwayes honest.
Iaca.
There's asking for my Ladies Secretary
Bom.
I knew't; I am not here;
Doe they inquire already? come Ile pledge thee;
What wilt thou say if some body be sent for to Court.
Iaca.
Ile drinke some bodies health.
Bom.
Th'art a good [...]ellow, and this curtesie
Shall be remembred.
Within call Iacamo.
Iaca.
I am cald.
Bom.
Leave, leave your wicket▪ fren [...] weele drinke a cup
When thou art gone; tis very excellent wine;
And now I have a stomacke like an edge toole;
But no good comes of idlenesse—toth [...]r cup;
The bottle growes light headed; how now friend?
No dish of meat appeare; nothing to shew
The Kitchin and the Wineseller are friends?
I would the Cooke were [...]osted honest Iacamo
Enter [...], and Pietro.
I was thinking of a brace of Co [...]k [...] just as you came.
Iaca.
I have retriv'd a cov [...]y of Partridge for thee.
Piet.
And a cup of Greeke wine; [...]eeres to thee.
Bom.
I understand Greeke wine; Ile lose no time.
Iaca.
[Page]
What's this a Booke.
Bom.
No, tis my learned trencher
Which Schollers sometimes ea [...]e, Euclid they call it;
In my opinion this wing and legge
Is worth all bodies mathematicall;
Now let's dispute in Greek, to the Kings health.
Pie.
To me, Ile pledge.
Iaca.
It shall goe round.
Bom.
And why doe you thinke my friend the King
Came hither with the Duke.
Pie.
To dine.
Bom.
Thy braines are in thy guts; you shall heare more;
Whats this?
Iaca.
Potato Bulley.
Bom.
A cup of wine to cleare the passage; so▪
Here is as they say Latine; here is Greeke, and
Here is for ought I know an Hebrew roote, most learnedly
Met together.
Iaca.
Heele be drunke presently.
Bom.
Bottle in battle ray, present, give fire, so, as
You were; have they good stomacks Iacamo?
How feeds the King?
Iaca.
He was very pleasant with your Lady;
But the Duke feedes upon her lookes.
Bom.
My Ladies health, my Lady little Domitilla [...]s health.
Pie.
Well said; about, about▪
Bom.
I am about another to our reverend Lady Simphorosa;
So, so; this wine they say will make us see things double,
Here is but one Leg visible; well for this favour
Gentlemen if I be forc [...]d to live in court Ile make
You all in time; who can write or reade among you.
Both.
None, none; we scorne it.
Bom.
You shall have all preferment trust to me,
And marke my steps; heere to the curteous drinker;
Now doe I finde a noble constitution in me, now
Could I leape; would thou wert any living Lady
In my way now.
Iaca.
Away; the Lords are risen.
Bom.
[Page]
The Lords doe rise and fall.
Piet.
Hees paid; the King will come this way.
Bom.
Every man goe his owne way; I wonnot see
The King for all this.
Enter Guido, Aloisio, Aloxio.
Friend.
Guid.
This is the Ladies Secretary, pray my Lords
Be acquainted with him.
Bom.
Dee heare no body say he saw me, I wonnot
Be seene yet.
He reeles in.
Guid.
Though he be made a spectacle; but leave him
'Twas a handsome entertainement o'the sudden.
Alo.
A pretty hunting dinner; but did you not
Observe with what intention the Duke
Shot eyes on Domitilla.
Alex.
And the King
Applied all his discourse to her; I know not;
He has made no vow against a second marriage
But if he choose at home and looke at beauty.
Guid.
Shees a very pretty talking Lady.
Ale.
Very ingenious.
Aloi.
And with your favour, though she be no Court Lady.
Shee wants no confidence.
Alex.
What if the Duke be taken with her
Guid.
Let him be taken a bed with her, tis my opinion
My Lord Montalto wonnot die for greefe ont.
Alo.
They are here.
Duke Montalto.
Mont.
Your grace is sad; excuse
My dilligence to waite on you; I could wish
If it made no intrusion on your thoughts,
I had opportunity to expresse
What might not be unworthy of your patience:
Duke. To me.
Enter King, leads D [...]mitilla.
Mont.
The King.
This way Ladies to the Garden; let me have
The honour to attend you.
Exit Duke Montalto.
King.
[Page]
Wh [...]s the Duke.
Guid.
He tooke that way to the Garden Sir, with
The Lord Montalto.
King.
You may remov [...] a little;
Exit.
You have no feare to trust your selfe with me.
Dom.
I cannot Sir forget you are the King,
And in a Wildernesse could have no thought
With the least prejudice upon your vertue.
King.
You have the greater innocence at home▪
My intents are faire enough, and you may stand
The danger of a question; pray how old are you?
Dom.
Although it be not held a welcome complement
To our Sex, my duty bids me not dispute;
I am fifteene my mother saies.
King.
And are
You not in love.
Domit.
I must not charge my selfe
With so much ignorance to answer, that
I understand not what it meanes; I know
The word, but never could apply the senc [...],
Or finde it in a passion more then ordinary.
King.
Cupid hath lost his quiver then; he could not
Be armde, and let you scape, whose sole captivite
Would be more glory then the conquest made
As Poets faine upon the gods.
Dom.
Tis language
With which you are pl [...]s'd to mocke your humble handmaid.
King.
But this as [...]ures him blinde.
Dom.
He would deserve
To lose his eyes indeede if he should aime
A shaft at me.
King.
Madam you have a heart.
Dom.
To which no other
Flame can approach; then what shall light it to
Obedience of your will and my good mothers.
King.
Obedience to my will; what if it were
My will that you should love.
Dom.
Sir, I doe love.
King.
[Page]
Love with the warme affection of a mistresse
One Ile present a servant▪ why that blush;
The words are not immodest; there did want
No blood upon your cheeke to make it lovely;
Or does it slow in silence to expresse
That which your virgin Language would not be
So soone held guilty of, consent.
Dom.
To what?
King.
To love by my direction a man
Whose worth considered shall deserve thee too,
And in the noblest way invite thy freedome
Vntill the holy Priests declare, your hearts
Are knit into one blessing; theres no harme
In this.
Dom.
Most royall Sir I know not, with
What words to say, you honour me; how can
One so unworthy as poore Domitilla
Be entertaind within your thoughts and care
In this high nature.
King.
Though your mother have
Made both her person and your selfe a stranger
To Court, I have had eyes upon your vertues
Which waited on by a most ample fortune,
I have studied to advance, if you'le accept
A husband of a my choise; what say you Madam?
Dom.
I have a mother Sir.
King.
Shee shall thinke it fortunate
Bove expe [...]ation; you have not vowed your selfe
To a cold Nunnery.
Dom.
Not I Sir.
King.
When
I shall declare how pretious he is
To my owne bosome.
Dom.
Royall Sir, this language
Must needes prepare a welcome; I should thinke
My heart unlike another womans, not
To obey a charme so powerfull as your praise;
But when you are considered as my King,
[Page] Duty takes off the merit of my will
And humble [...] every thought beneath obedienc [...].
King.
His name is.
Dom.
Pardon I b [...]seech you Sir,
Conceale it yet; what gentle spirit walkes
Vpon my blood; I dare not looke upon him
My hopes my feares; it is enough great Sir,
That you leave one within your thought, you would
Commend to Domitilla, one you [...] love,
And pretious to your bosome; sure you blest him
With such a Character.
King.
It was too short.
Dom.
My heart is a false Prophet; tis a fate
Too good and great for Domitilla.
King.
Well his name shall be reserv'd; but when it op [...]ns
It selfe to your knowledge you will honour it,
And thanke me Domitilla; ith meane time
Let the opinion you have of me
Live in your trust, and make roome in your heart
To meete the husband I shall bring.
Exit.
Dom.
Why may not this be meant by his owne person?
More wonders have beene read in story; I
Finde thicke but amorous tremblings in my heart;
Hee's King; why not? love has done stranger things,
And can lead captive the proud heart of Kings.
Exit.
Enter Duke, Montalto.
Duke.
Here none can reach our voyce: be free and cleare.
Mon.
First let me kisse your hand, on which I sweare
To speake all truth; tis justice to your person,
Your merrit and my faith; next though the secret
May both concerne and benefit your knowledge,
I shall desire your pardon
Duke.
You prepare me
For wonder▪ if it be an act of Friendship
To me, it will become me to reward it,
Not thankes, nor pardon.
Mon.
But all truthes meet not
With charitable eares; there is a descant
[Page] That pleases not sometimes though the best art
Present it, if our sense be indispos'd
To patience and calme hearing.
Duke.
Doe not doubt me.
Mont.
Twill not become me so much as in thought
To enquire how long, or with what firme devotion,
You affect the Princesse, Theodosia;
But Naples is more conscious, then to doubt
You bring a welcome treaty in your person,
And every voi [...]e and heart is busie with
The expectation of your marriage;
Whilst every eye bright with your stame is able
To light a Torch to Hymen; Virgins have
No other care then with what flowers sweet
As your owne name to adorne the smiling altars.
Duke.
You promis'd Sir a secret.
Mon.
It will come
To fast upon your knowledge; have you never
Look'd from the prospect of your Pallace window▪
When some faire sky courted your eye to reade
The beauties of a day, the glorious Sunne
Enriching so the bosome of the earth
That trees and flowers appear'd but like so much
Enamell upon gold; the wanton birds
And every creature but the drudging Ante
Despising providence, and at play and all
That world you measure with your eye, so gay
And proud, as winter were no more to shake
His Icy Lockes upon 'em, but the breath
Of gentle Zephire to perfume their growth,
And walke eternally upon the Springs;
When from a coast you see not, comes a cloud
Creeping as overladen with a storme▪
Darke as the wombe of night, and with her wings
Surprising all the glories you beheld;
Leaves not your frighted eyes a light to see
The r [...]ines of that flattering day.
Duke.
This Language
[Page] Carries both mystery and horror; pray
My Lord convey your meaning to my knowledge.
Mon.
I shall▪ I had in vaine prepard you thus else;
Pardon againe the story; Theodosia,
More beautifull then the day I figur'd by her,
Is quite orecast and lookes through an Ecclipse
Vpon your love: shee has no heart, but what
Another is possest of.
Duke.
Ha.
Mont.
I know
It cannot but afflict your thoughts that all
Your expectation ripe and courted, to
The enjoying such a treasure as shee is,
Must finish in embracing of a shaddow,
Invited to a fable, not a bride
That should with joy dwell in your princely armes▪
For Theodosia without sacriledge
Cannot be yours; shee is contracted.
Duke.
How?
The King of Naples must not Sir ingage
Florence to such a mockery.
Mon.
Tis my duty
To cleare his honour in't he has a pure
Intention to make his sister yours; her close
Though honorable love's designd without
His knowledge, and you will but waste your rage
Vpon her destiny which will bury her
In her owne ruines, if your anger make
The King her enemie.
Duke.
I doe not finde
My heart in any disposition
To breake at hearing of this newes, but wish it
Truth to prepare roomes for another guest;
The fairer Domitilla is here sainted.
Mont.
Your excellencie.
Duke.
Must not be thus affronted
Montalto, and returne with this dishonour▪
Was there no cheaper person to be made
[Page] Ridiculous in Naples.
Mont.
Calme your blood,
I know you must resent it, but let not
Your passion make the world beleeve you should
Dispaire to finde one ap [...]er to your bosome;
The richest beauty in the world, your birth
And fortune must deserve and [...] should curse
My forward duty to your grace.
Duke.
No more
I have considered better and although
Your love may merit thankes, yet this intelligence
Wonot concerne my faith; this cannot be Sir.
Mont.
My honour is ingaged then to convince you
Though with the hazard of my life and fortunes,
Both which must now depend upon your mercy;
Your breath shall make 'em bleed or live.
Duke.
What meanes
Montalto?
Mont.
To translate the power of all
My Starres, and make you Lord of my whole fate
The [...]dosias heart Sir should be mine, by free
Gift of her selfe, who has beene pleas'd to take
My vowes in the exchange, which now may boast
Some time and growth, which could not be a sinne
Against your love, with which all that can spring
From me deserves no name, nor dare I take
Boldenesse to call her mine, who am a thing
Lighter then ayre in ballance with your grace▪
If you but chide the ambition, and could render,
Though I commit a rape on my owne life,
All that her love hath promis'd me.
Duke.
Tis strange.
Mont.
But she let me take freedome to be plaine▪
Duke.
Is not to be reduc'd youle [...]ay.
Mont.
Sir, women
Love not with that safeguard upon their passion▪
Duke.
Shee has a wise art to dissemble then.
Mont.
Tis feare it should arive at the King knowledge.
[Page] In whose displeasure shee is lost and not
A will to mocke your grace, for whom there is
Another wound within her minde, that shee
Should weare a smiling summer in her brow
Yet frost within her heart, in which unhappily
Shee comes to neare the nature of the Adamant
Hard to your grace whom shee attracts; but love
Your wisedome knowes is in the volume of
Our fate decreede, whose periods when they are
By time made knowne; greatnesse on earth, that meanes
To play the tyrant with us, may have strength
To punish not reverse.
Duke.
I am confirmde
And prosper in my thoughts.
Mont.
It takes.
Duke.
My Lord,
You have expression act of confidence
Which I must not betray though to my losse▪
It is some happinesse to know this early;
We may be expected; you shall finde me Sir
A Prince, but no usurper.
Mont.
I am your creature▪
The King.
Enter King, Simphorosa, D [...]mitilla, Guid [...], Aloisio, Alexio.
We build upon your piety
Vntill some little time may call our loves
Out of this silence.
King.
You understand me Madam?
Simp.
And am honord.
Duke.
Her eyes beget new wonder; I shall be observ'd.
King.
Come, now to hor [...].
Duke.
I shall attend; your [...]
Oblig'd us Madam.
Sim.
Twas not worth such guest;
But prayers and duty must supply.
King.
Now Madam you are a great part of my care▪
Depend upon me for a husband.
Dom.
[Page]
Ist not plaaine▪
Duke.
Madam another guest must take his leav [...],
That [...]ere would choose his pallace.
Dom.
You are gratious, and but encourage more to honour you
Mont.
Ile creepe and kisse thy Altar love, allow
Them flame, and knit more charmes upon her brow.
Exeunt.

The third Act.

Duke and Riviero.
Duke.
Tis thy old quarrel gainst Montalto makes
Thee incredulous, I dare beleeve he loves
Theodosia.
Rivi.
Tis not that I question Sir,
But that part which concernes her love to him
Sounds like a plot upon your nature, to
Secure his owne ambition.
Duke.
Why the Princesse
May love; as great a heart has beene made stoop [...].
Rivi.
Your grace should else in vaine court her your selfe
And late your highnesse thought shee me [...]t your person
A faire designe of love, with all the soft
Behaviour of a Princesse.
Duke.
But tis not
Impossible a Lady should dissemble.
Rivi.
Allow her but the honour she was borne with,
And sheel'e not staine her blood so much.
Duke.
But love
Must be obeyed, and prepossession
Of hearts is a lewd thing to wrastle with▪
I make it my owne c [...]s [...], and if I lov'd
Another Lady better then the Princesse,
As every man's not proofe against all beauty,
I thinke I should be constant too [...] would
Be something to remove [...].
Rivi.
Then the King.
Duke.
[Page]
He knowes not; & I have bound my selfe in honour
Not to betray, if they be decreed
To make a marriage; a soft destiny
Attend their loves.
Rivi.
There is some mystery;
But will you rest and take for granted shee
Does love Montalto; if it be a truth
Y'are in the same condition when shee
Confirmes it.
Duke.
Tis not good to be busie
In search of these unwelcome certainties;
There's hope while things are clouded in suspition.
Rivi.
But so your jealousie may wound her honour,
Which you may cure by knowledge.
Duke.
I will thinke on [...]t;
Meane time let this dwell in that honest silence
You have possest; there is another secret
May follow.
Rivi.
You must challenge my whole bosome,
And I am confident your highnesse will
Stere all your resolutions by honour,
Which in a Prince is sacred.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Sir, the Lord
Montalto is comming up.
Duke.
Then try your art upon him,
And informe your selfe, Ile take
My time to appeare.
Exit Duke.
Enter Montalto.
Rivi.
I obey
My honour'd Lord.
Mon.
Most noble [...]hilberto,
Where is the Duke?
Rivi.
If youle but excuse a few minuts
Mont.
Tis
My duty to attend.
Rivi.
How is it with the Princesse my good Lord?
Mont.
The Princesse? shee is in health; why this to m [...] ▪
[Page] Hee is of inward counsell with the Duke,
I must be resolute.
Rivi.
I aske, because,
His grace intends a present visit to her,
And was but now in mention of your Lordship
To beare him company.
Mont.
I like not that;
He knowes he may command my services.
Rivi.
He will deserve your love; pray my Lord tell m [...],
And let us be plaine breasted; you injoy
The King, as I, but with lesse stocke of merit,
The favour of his excellence; how affect you
The present state of things; wilt be a match?
There is loud expectation in the world,
And after all, my Master's fond to have it
Proceede; to these, I am of opinion
Theres no retreating now without dishonour;
Yet as I am Philiberto I much pittie
He should through any wound to your affection
Perfect his love.
Mont.
He has told you then the secret,
And not to waste more language, I collect
From what you have exprest, he does resolve
To destroy me; Montalto must be trod on.
Rivi.
Not so my Lord.
Mont.
Yes, and my heart the ascent,
To his Hymeneall altar, which must be
Made crimson with the blood of a true lover▪
His will be obey'd, Theodosia shall see
To advance her, Montalto will goe smiling
To his sacrifice, and after many prayers,
That shee may live the darling of his heart,
Ile change my acquaintance of this world to be
At peace in my owne ashes.
Rivi.
You will not
Commit a violence upon your selfe?
Mont.
I sha' not neede; the thought of her will kill m [...]
With as much silence as I goe to sleepe;
[Page] I onely shall bleed inward, and my life
Remove it selfe like a faire appa [...]ition
That vanishes to th'eye, and with lesse noise
Then a calme Summers evening; but when I
Am dead, tis not impossible, some may
Report Theodosia was but revish'd from me;
Feare of a brothers anger, and the tricke
Of polliticke states, that marry to knit power
Not hearts, did force her to Herares armes,
Whilst I, torne from the branch where I once grew,
Travell I know not whether in the aire.
Rivi.
I begin
To thinke him worth some pitty.
Mont.
Into what
Vaine thing would the severe apprehension
Of greefe transforme us? coward, let the Duke
Move with all amorous haste to his delight,
And glory in the hope of his faire bride,
Mine by the gift of heaven, and hearts; but all
My flowers grow dully on their stalkes, and wither;
Let her gay Pa [...]animphs with [...]osie Chaplets,
Which will take all their colour from her blush,
Attend on Theodosia to the Temple,
While as they goe, no rude winde shall be heard,
But so much breath of heaven as gently may
Lifting their loose haire up, whisper my wrong
To every Virgins care; let them be married,
Knit hands, and plight a ceremonious faith;
Let all the triumphs waste; let them be wasted,
And night it selfe brib'd with a thousand formes
Of mirth and Revells, till the night grow faint
And pale with watching,
Invite to bed; yet there he shall enjoy
But Theodosia [...]s body, and not that
As his faire thoughts expect, perhaps the conquest
Of one whom he loved better.
Exit Montal.
Enter Duke.
Rivi.
How was that.
Duke.
[Page]
Now shall I trust him? if my sense mistake not
The [...]dosia may not be a Virgin.
Rivi.
Twas
His bold conclusion.
Duke.
Where is now the honour
You talke of; durst Montalto charge her with
This staine, without his conscience to assure it.
R [...]vi.
Yes, and to me this tenders him the more
To be suspected and I am so farre
From thinking shee affects Montalto, that
I am convinc'd he loves her not; can he
Have any noble thought of Theodosia,
That dares traduce her honour; thinke o' that;
And can revenge in any lover be
A reason to wound a Ladies fame; it tasts
Of ranke injustice, and some other end
Time will discover; and yet your grace is bound
To have his accusation confirm'd,
Or hant this spotted panther to his ruine,
Whose breath is onely sweete to poyson vertue.
Duke.
What I resolve inquire not.
Exit D [...]ke.
Rivi.
I see thro [...]gh
Mont altoes soule, and have beene so long tame
In my owne sufferings; but this will make
Him ripe for punishment; Andrugio and
My sonne.
Enter Andrugio, Octavio.
Octav.
I cannot with the wings of duty
Fly swift enough to prostrate my obedience
And welcome from a long supposed death,
My honourd father.
Rivi.
Then I must appeare so.
Andr.
And let me give a sonne up to your blessing
Worthy your best prayers, and embrace; twas time
To bring you acquainted; he had else this night
Contriv'd Montaltoes tragedie at a Banquet,
For your revenge his active thoughts I could not
Counsell no longer patience.
Rivi.
[Page]
Thou hast but
Prevented me Octavio; I was
Weary of my concealement.
Octav.
But my joyes are wilde,
And will I feare, transport me.
Rivi.
My best friend,
And my owne spirited boy, feare not Montalto;
Hee's now upon a precipice; his fate
Stoopes with the glorious burden of his pride.
Things may be worth our counsell; we shall see
This prodigie that would be held a Starre,
And did so fright us with his streaming haire,
Drop like a Comet, and be lost i'th aire.
Exeunt.
Montalto, Theodosia.
Mont.
Ist possible the day should be so old,
And not a visite from the Duke.
Theo.
While he
Injoyes health, I shall easily forgive
A little ceremony.
Mont.
And a lover;
Your grace must chide him; other men may have
Excuse for their neglect of time, but he
That loves deserves no pardon.
Theod.
Iudge with charity
My Lord; the case may be your owne; you would
Thinke her a cruell mistresse, that should doome
Your life to exile, for not payment of
One ceremonious visite.
Mont.
Not where such
Perfection were to ingage my service Madam;
Pardon the bold comparison; death were not
Enough to punish that rude thought that could
Start from your bright Idea; or converse
With praters that did not first concerne your excellence▪
I would not be ambitious of a blessing
But from reflex of yours.
Theo.
You would expresse
A most officious servant to that Lady
[Page] Were honourd in your thought; but the Duk [...] of Florenc [...]
And I shall make no such severe conditions.
Mon.
If he doe love you Madam, that will teach him
Above what ceremony prescribes to honour you.
Theo.
If he doe love.
Mont.
Your graces pardon; I
Speake from an honest freedome taken from
The assurance of your goodnesse, that know better
How to distinguish truth; I am not judge
Of his breast Madam.
Theo.
I suppose you are not.
Mont.
And yet being a man another way
Conclude his passions are but such as have
Beene read in humane nature.
Theo.
What inferre you
From hence my Lord?
Mont.
Nothing but that a Prince
May be no Saint in love.
Theo.
Howe's that?
Mont.
Twas in my feare I should displease.
Theo.
Your will.
Mont.
Not for the Empire of the world; I shall
Repent I live with your suspition
Vpon my humbl'd soule.
Theo.
Pray Sir be free
Touching the Duke; I must know all; what ist
Makes him no Saint.
Mont.
Madam he is not dead,
And in his life I see no miracles.
Theo.
You talk'd of love.
Mont.
No miracles of love;
He loves as other men that have profest▪
Devotion to a mistresse—but
Theo.
What? speake
I charge thee by the memory of what
Thou dost affect most.
Mont.
Though it wound my selfe
[...]e ar [...]'d and heare it; how I blush within me,
[Page] To tell your highnesse Fl [...]rence has transplanted
His heart, and all his active thoughts are plac'd▪
Theo.
On whom?
Mont.
On Do [...]itilla.
Theo.
Ha.
Mont.
I did observe 'em Madam, at her mothers house,
Where we were lately feasted after hunting,
How strangely he was taken, how his eyes
Did wanton with her face, and on her haire
Tie many golden knots, to keepe love chalnde;
But these are but suspitions; he since
Confest to me in hope to winne me to
Negotiate his affaire, how at first sight
He tooke in desperate flames, and that shee rules
The intelligence of his soule; I heare the King
Hath sent for her to Court, which must give Madam
A dangerous opportunity to actuate
His ends with your dishonour; I was unwilling
To speake this knowledge of his hasty change,
But all my bonds of piety and faith
Would have beene forfeit into a long silence.
Theo.
Shall I be thus affronted.
Mont.
We see Princes,
Whom we call gods on earth, in the affaires
Of love turne men agen.
Theo.
For Domitilla.
Mont.
That's the dishonour Madam, and infects
My braine to thinke on't, and as much beneath
Your grace in all the ornaments of soule
And person as shee is in b [...]ood, if my
Impartiall thoughts may take so bold commission
To judge betweene your beauties.
Theo.
Is it possible;
Mont.
Tis too certaine Madam; I should b [...]
A villaine to accuse the Duke unjustly,
Or bring but shaddowes of a truth; for though
He be unworthy of your love that dares
Thus valew your perfectio [...]s, below
[Page] That Phanto me [...] lo [...] not passion
Make you to rash in managing a c [...]use,
On which depends your fame, compared to which
Ten thousand lives added to mine were nothing;
Observe him at next visit.
Theod.
Ile study thankes Sir▪
Mont.
You pay me with a blessing, if my name
But live within your memory.
Theo.
This troubles me.
Exit Montaito.
Enter King and Guido.
King.
Are they both come to court?
Guid.
And in those lodgings were prepar'd.
King.
Tis well, and came they cheerefully?
Guid.
Yes Sir, but something
I nigh discerne like trouble, and by starts
In Domit [...]lla; but they are pleas'd with their
Remove, and waite all your commands.
King.
So leave us;
Exit Guido.
Theodosia, whats the matter? art not well.
Theo.
Where [...]s the Duke.
King.
I thought to have met him here.
Theod.
Is Domitilla come to Court?
King.
She is
By my command to waite on thee.
Theo.
To rivall me.
Exit.
King.
Howes that?
I meant her a wife for good Montalto,
As the reward of his just services;
He knowes it not, as he is ignorant
For whom I have prepar'd her; Rivall? strange
I must know more of this; shee is in nature
Too apprehensive; for although in love
Suspition to men a torment be,
There is no Fiend to womens jealousie.
Exit.
Domitilla, [...]mbo.
Bom.
You may doe what you will Madam; [...] me
Into fine clothes, and make an asse of me;
But should you wrap me in a Lyons skinne.
Dom.
[Page]
You have eares that will betray what beast you are.
Bom.
Pray Madam tell me in six words of sence,
What shall I doe hete; Ile not see the King,
Though he have cunningly devis'd this tricke
Onely to bring me hither and betray me
To offices, make me at least an Idoll.
Dom.
Whats that?
Bom.
An Idoll in the Countrey I have read
A thing we call a worshipfull, a right worshipfull,
Descended from the house of the fac totums,
Lord of the soile, and Cocke of his owne dunghill.
Dom.
You may be out of feare; you cannot reade now▪
Nor set your name to a warrant.
Bom.
All that nothing;
Ignorance every day comes into fashion,
And no meane statesmen now when they doe writ [...]
Their names, doe for their honours so con [...]ive it,
You can hardly know a nobleman from a marke.
Dom.
If you be an enemy to all preserment,
Your best way is to leave the world and turne
A lay Fryer.
Bom.
No I finde no such thing in my constitution;
Every man is not bound to be Religious;
Men of my bulke and bearing should not fast so;
I am not given by nature to drinke water,
Or lye without a shirt; I have cornes Madam,
And I would make lesse conscience to undoe
My Shoomaker, then walke on wodden Pantables
I will indure to serve you still and dwell here,
So you c [...]nceale me from the King; tis not
That I doe owe his Majestie ill will;
I could indure him too upon condition,
He would make nothing on me.
Dom.
Why he shall
Make nothing on thee take my word, or if
Thou hast a minde Ile pray him make thee lesse.
Bom.
No, I would be a midling Christian;
But what will you doe here your selfe; youle be in.
Dom.
[Page]
With whom dost thinke.
Bom.
And cast away your selfe
Vpon some pageant, one whose wit must be
Beholding to anothers Wooll to keepe it warme;
One that can dance and sing and wag his feather,
An artificiall Calfe carrier;
A youth that's sowed together by his Taylour,
And taken a peeces by his Surgeon.
Dom.
Why how now Secretary.
Bom.
I could say more.
Dom.
Is this wit naturall?
Bom.
You were best say
I got it here at Court; pray heaven I doe not
Loose what I brought; I had a holsome wit
I'th Countrey; aske the Parish and the Parson
For I kept company with those that reade
And learne wit now by the eare; if any slip from me,
As where there is a plenty some will out,
Here are so many wit catchers, a lost maidenhead
Is sooner found and set upon the shoulders
Of the right owner.
Dom.
I preethe tell me Bombo,
And tell me truth, doe not you thinke your selfe
After all this a foole?
Bom.
A foole; your servant Madam.
Dom.
Ile speake thou maist be the Kings foole.
Bom.
I thanke you,
I tell you Ile not see the King, or if I did,
Yes I looke like a foole, I could be angry,
But then you'd say I were a foole indeed.
Dom.
Be not so passionate.
Bom.
Wod I had beene a foole,
I would I had, for my owne sake I wish it,
I should not have beene tempted hither then,
By which I have indangered my good parts,
To State imployment; but Ile be wise enough,
He has not seene me yet nor shanot if
There be a witch in Naples, or a mist
[Page] That will be bought for money to walk the Court in▪
But take your course, and I were at home agen.
Dom.
What then?
Bom.
I would live in the Sellar, the Wine Sellar.
Dom.
Tis your humility.
Bom.
There were some fortifi [...]ation to be made
Against the Court invasions, coun [...]mines
Of sand and Sacke, a man might thrust himselfe
Among the bottles, and defie the world,
Be drunke, and not be cal'd out of his sleepe
To goe Embassadour.
Enter Simphorosa.
Dom.
So, so, feare not,
Have a strong faith, and thou maist dy [...] i'th countrey
For all this; here's my mother; let your care
Be now that none may interrupt us.
Bom.
I will doe any thing but see the King.
Exit
Dom.
With pardon Madam you seeme full of thought.
Sim.
I am studying Domitilla why the King
Should send for us to Court.
Dom.
Mother you cannot
Mention the King in any act of his
That is not glorious and like himselfe;
He is the great example of a King,
But richer in his soule then state.
Sim.
But why
To us this favour; to call us from those
Cold and obscure shades of a retirement
To plant us here neare his owne beames?
Dom.
He has some meaning in't.
Sim.
It tis yet darke to me.
Dom.
We sh [...]' not staine his Court; his sister's but
A Lady of more distinction of birth;
Yet all that have beene Princes, came not to
Their state by a de [...]nt; the Heralds know
Some were not borne to purple and to scepters
That have beene Queenes; vertue has rais'd some,
And beauty has had many charmes to rule
[Page] The heart of Kings.
Simp.
Whats all this Domitilla?
I hope you are not dreaming of a Queene;
Such wilde interpretation [...]f the Kings
Favour to us cannot be made without
The forfeits of wits and duties which
Should teach us to containe our thoughts in their
Owne Spheare [...] and not to point them upon objects
Above our Levell.
Dom.
I Betray my s [...]lfe,
When I sayd beauty had a power to charm [...]
A King; it might acquit me from suspition
Of any hope to apply them so ambitiously;
Youle grant it just to love the King.
Sim.
Our duties.
Dom.
And he may where he please place his affection,
Sim.
Leave that to her; it may concerne.
Dom.
And shee
Thats mark'd for so great honour should be mad
To quarrell with her kinde fate.
Sim.
What's all this
To thee?
Dom.
To me; why mother ist not possible
A Lady not much fairer then my selfe
May be a Queene; great Princes have eyes
Like other men, and I should sinne against
What heaven and nature have bestowed on me,
Should my fate smile to thinke my face would be
The barre to such preferment.
Sim.
Leaving this
Which is but mirth I know since we are falne
Into discourse of love, what would you answer
To Lord Montalto if he came a wooing
And recommended by the King?
Dom.
I would
Eene recommend him to the King agen.
Sim.
Is not his favorite worth your love, if he
Descend to be your servant.
Dom.
[Page]
As a servant
He may be entertain'd, and were I Qu [...]ene,
Perhaps he should be favorite to both;
And I would smile upon his services
In imitation of the King while he
Preserv'd his modest duty and his distance:
Sim.
My daughter is transported, sure you ar [...]
No Queene sweet Domitilla.
Dom.
Tis a truth,
Nor is Montolto yet my favorite.
Sim.
I hope shee's not so miserable to affect
The King, by whose directions I prepare
Her for Montalto.
Enter Bombo.
Bom.
A sprig of the Nobility cal'd Octavio
Desires accesse.
Dom.
Admit him.
Sim.
I must let this passion coole and leave her.
Enter Octavio.
Octav.
Welcome to Court; why so; this sphere becom [...]s you,
Or rather it takes ornament from you;
Now Domitilla shines indeede; your presence
Doth throw new beames about the Pallace Madam;
Before we look'd as we had lost our genius.
Dom.
You came not from the King with any message,
Octav.
I made this hast to tender my owne service.
Dom.
You have no other suite to me?
Octav.
Yes Madam.
Dom.
Speake it.
Octav.
And Ile not wander much about; shall I
Be admitted a young lover?
Dom.
Men must not love till they be one & twenty,
They will be mad before they come to age else.
Octav.
This Law was ne're decreed i'th Parliament
Of Cupid; such a Statute would undoe
Many sweet Virgins like your selfe; yet if
You'le promise to stay for me, I shall thinke it
A happy expectation; we are both
[Page] Young; we may choose each other Valentine
And couple, as we grow more ripe hereafter.
Dom.
Ile aske you but one question my Lord,
What would you give to be the King of Naples?
Octav.
I dare not thinke so ambitiously.
Dom.
Tis modest: what if I cannot love under a Prince.
Octav.
Can he be lesse, whom you will make happy
To boast in the possession of your faire
Person, a thousand provinces; those eyes
Are able to create another Indies;
All the delights that dwell in blessed Tempe
Divinely bud and blossome in your cheeke;
The treasure of Arabia's in your breath;
Nor Thebes alone, as to Amphions Lute
Stoopes to the heavenly magicke of your voyce,
But all the world.
Dom.
No more of this; these praises
Are made for children, and will make truth blush;
They may fill up where nature is defective;
And were I Queene of Naples I should punish
Such flattery; but you are young and may
Outgrow this vanity.
Octav.
You are mercifull.
Dom.
I shall be ever so to you Octavio,
Let this incourage you to thinke I love you
In the first place, of those which are borne subjects;
If you will answer my respects forbeare
To question further.
Octa.
I shall waite sometime, and kisse your hand.
Dom.
And if my power may
Prevaile to doe you favour with the King,
Make your addresse.
Octa.
Has not the court transform'd her.
Exit.
Dom.
Me thinkes I move upon a state already
And yet tis not the glory of his title
Affects my hope so much; his person's lovely,
And both together make the charme; I doe
Expect his royall presence; how shall I
[Page] Behave my lookes when he declares himselfe,
Enter Iacamo.
Iaca.
Madam.
Dom.
Admit not every Lord to trouble m [...];
I will take physicke; but Ile be observ'd;
You may frame some excuse to Ladies too
That presse their visite.
Iaca.
Tis the Duke.
Dom.
The Duke.
Iaca.
Of Florence.
Dom.
Princes must not be neglected;
That name gives him accesse; say I attend.
Enter Duke.
Duke.
The acknowledgments I owe your favours Madam,
Late your rude guest brings me to kis [...]e your hand.
Dom.
Your excellence is pleas'd to interpret fairely
Of our intents.
Duke.
And till occasion ripen
My whole discharge for your faire entertainement,
Madam, be pleas'd to weare these Diamonds,
Which of themselves betray their want of lusture,
And come with an ambition to recover
Flame from your smile.
Dom.
It can be no dishonour
To take these from a Prince.
Enter Iacamo, whispers to Domitilla.
The King with wings,
Ile haste to meet him,
Exit.
Duke.
Gone, and so abruptly
Her businesse might allow her breath to thanke me
For my rich present; but Ile follow her;
I wo'd not meet the King here; if shee prove
Gentle, my heart I consecrate to love.
Exit.

The fourth Act.

Enter King, and Domitilla.
King.
My pretty Domitilla, now you are
My guest, tis fit whom I have made my charge
[Page] Should live within my eyes, welcome once more to Court.
Dom.
You are bounty Sir it selfe, and binde
A Virgins prayers.
King.
What art thou yet prepar'd
To heare his name, I would declare thy husband.
Enter Duke.
Duke.
The King.
King.
The Duke; this confirmes it.
Duke.
Vnlucky fate he has spied me.
King.
Thou shalt have
A little patience, while the Duke and I
Change some discourse in private.
Dom.
I Obey
Exit.
Duke.
He is sent off; I hope the King is not
In love with her himselfe.
King.
Now my Lord, what
Alone, I see you can addresse your selfe
To a handsome Lady.
Duke.
He has prevented mē.
Where I receive favour I shall never
Want heart to acknowledge.
King.
That rule binds to all.
Duke.
It does but with distinction, to pay.
King.
But with distinction to pay,
First love to those that best deserves it from us.
Duke.
Tis justice Sir.
King.
This granted, there's another
Whom though you can forget, my sister Sir
Deserves to be remembred.
Duke.
You are jealous
That I visite this Lady.
King.
That were onely
To doubt; I must be plaine; Florence has not
Beene kind to Naples to reward us with
Affront for love, and Theodosia must not
Be any Princes mockery.
Duke.
I can
Take boldnesse too, and tell you Sir it were
[Page] More for hēr honour, shee would mock no Princ [...]
I am not lost to Florence yet, though I
Be Naples guest, and I must tell him here
I came to meet with faire and Princely treaties
Of love, not to be made the tale of Italy,
The ground of Scurrile pasquills, or the mirth
Of any Lady, who shall preingage
Her heart to anothers bosome, and then sneake
Off like a tame despised property,
When her ends are advanc'd.
King.
I understand not
This passion; yet it points upon something
That may be dangerous to conclude; Theodosia
Is Naples sister, and I must not see
Her lost to honour, though my kingdome bleed
To rescue her.
Duke.
Now you are passionate;
Tis I must be repair'd; my name is wounded,
And my affection betrayed; your sister
That lookes like a faire starre, within lov [...]s skie
Is falne, and by the scattering of her fires
Decla [...]es shee has alliance with the earth,
Not heavenly nature.
King.
Are my senses perfect;
Be clearer Sir; teach me to understand
This prodigie; you doe not scorne our sister?
Duke.
Not I; as she has title to your blood
Shee merits all ambition, shee is a Princesse,
Yet no staine to her invention, we are paralells
Equall, but never made to meet.
King.
How's this?
Duke.
Truth is my witnesse I did m [...]ane
No ceremonious love, untill I found
Her heart was given from me, though your power
Contract our bodies.
King.
Stay and be advis'd,
And if your doubts by some malitious tongue
Framed to abuse my sister, and your selfe,
[Page] Have rais'd this muteny in your thoughts, I have
A power to cure all.
Duke.
Sir you cannot.
King.
Not to court thee for her husband, wert possest
Of all, ore which our Eagle shakes his wings,
But to set right her honour; and ere I challenge
Thee by thy birth, by all thy hopes and right
To fame, to tell me what seditious breath
Has poyson'd her; heare what my sister sends
By me so late, time is not old in minuts,
The word's yet warme with her owne breath; pray tell
The Duke saies she, although I know not from
What roote his discontents grow, to devote him
To Domitilla.
Duke.
How does shee know that?
King.
Whose beauty has more spell upon his fancy,
I did contract my heart, when I thought his
Had beene no stronger to his tongue, and can
Not finde within it since, what should divert
His princely thoughts from my first innocence;
Yet such is my sterne fate I must still love him;
And though he frame his heart to unkinde distance,
It hath imbracing vertue upon mine,
And with his owne remove, drawes my soule after him;
If he forget I am a Princesse, pray
Let Naples doe so too; for my revenge
Shall be in prayers, that he may finde my wrong
But teach him soft repentance, and more faith.
Duke.
All this must not betray my freedome Sir.
King.
Youle not accuse our sister of dishonour.
Duke.
I would not grieve you Sir to heare what I
Could say; and presse me not for your owne peace;
Fames must be gently toucht.
King.
As thou art Florence speake.
Duke.
I Shall displease;
Yet I but tell her brother that doth presse me;
Lucrece was chast after the rape; but where
The blood consents, there needs no ravisher.
Exit.
King.
[Page]
I doe grow faint with wonder [...] here's enough
To blast an app [...]ehension, and shoote
A quaking through the valiant soule of man;
My sisters blood accus'd, and her faire name
Late chast as trembling snow, whose fleeces clothe▪
Our Alpine hills, sweet as the Roses spirit
Or Violets cheeke, on which the morning leaves
A teare at parting, now begins to wither,
As it would haste to death, and be forgotten;
This Florence is a Prince that does accuse her;
And such men give not faith to every murmur
Or s [...]ight intelligence that wounds a Lady
In her deare h [...]nour; but shee is my sister;
Thinke of that too; credit not all, but aske
Of thy owne veines what guilty flowings there
May tempt thee to beleeve this accusation.
Enter Theodosia.
Tis shee;
Th'art come Theodosia to my wishes.
Theo.
What does distract you Sir.
King.
I have done your message to the Duke, and finde
He does love Domitilla.
Theo.
Her he shall meete and marry in Elisium.
King.
What meane you?
Theo.
I have shooke off my tamenesse; doe not hinder
My just revenge; Ile turne their triumphs into death.
King.
There is a question of more consequence
Thou must resolve; it does concerne thee more
Then thy owne life.
Theo.
You fright me.
King.
Are you honest?
Theo.
Honest.
King.
I could have us'd the name of chaste,
Or virgin; but they carry the same sence;
Put off thy wonder Theodosia,
And answer me by both our parents ashes,
Which now are frighted in the urne, and scarse
Contain'd beneath their marble, while their same
[Page] Bleeds in my wounded honour art thou still
My sister without sta [...]ne; upon thy chastity
Tell me and answer truth, for both our lives.
Nay, nay, there is no time for thy amaze;
Hast thou not lost thy selfe and beene injoyed;
I blush to name the way.
Theo.
Never.
King.
Agen.
Theo.
By all the good we hope for I an innocent
As your owne wishes.
King.
Th'art my vertuous sister.
Theo.
But by your love and all that bound to
Be just, now let me know my strange accuser.
King.
Thou shalt know that hereafter; let thy thoughts
Live in their owne peace, and dispute not mine.
Exit.
Enter Domitilla.
Dom.
Not speake to me; he fround too; sure I have not
Displeasd him; wherefore stayes the Princesse?
Theo.
Shew spirit now or never. Domitilla
The greatest part of my affliction;
Let my revenge begin here.
Dom.
Your grace does honour your unworthy servan [...];
And if I might beseech one favour more,
Tis but to know what has displeas'd the King.
Theo.
Must you be of counsell with his passions;
What hath advanc'd you to this boldnesse?
Dom.
Pardo [...]
Why does your grace put on those angry lookes;
I never did offend you in a thought.
Theo.
Cunning dissembler, yes, and tis thy death
Must satisfie; yet ere I give thee punishment
Tell me what impudence advanc'd thy thoughts
So high in our dishonour [...] was [...]here none
In your owne for me of blood [...]it for your love,
But you must flatter your prou? hopes with one
So much above thy birth [...] though he in frailty
Consent to make thee great, dar [...] thou accept it,
And with my shame aspite to be his equall;
[Page] Disclaime these hopes, and sweare never to love him.
Dom.
Madam.
Theo.
Doe, or with this I will secu [...]e my feares,
And stand the malice of all other fate.
Dom.
Heare me.
Theo.
Be briefe.
Dom.
I know not by what genius prompt [...]d Madam,
To live or die, more happily, I have no
Feare of your rage, which is so farre from making
Me sinne against my love, it has inlarg'd
My heart, which trembles not to be loves martyr;
I can forgive your hand too, if you promise
To tell the King how willing I die for him.
Theo.
The King; thou lov'st the Duke.
Dom.
Hee's not concern'd
In my affection; I have no thought
Of any Prince alive, but your owne brother;
Such an example of loves folly have
My starres decreed me; yet if pride and duty
May in one action meete and be good friends,
Both shall assist my last breath which shall offer
Humbly the King, and his affaires to heaven
This he will pardon, shall he know it done
By me more sit to die then live for him.
Theo.
Alas poore Domitilla; shee is wounded
As deepe as I; rise and forgive my jealousie;
I cannot promise thee to be my sister,
But I will love thee like one; let us call
A counsell of our thoughts, and mingle sorrowes;
Yet when we have done all, and tyr'd our breath,
There is no cure for love, but love or death.
Exeunt.
Enter King and Montalto.
King.
How will Montalto counsell me; I am
Wilde with the repetition.
Mont.
The Duke
Lay such a blacke aspersion on your sister;
Tis blasphemy to honour; but as soone
He may pollute the Sunne beames, or de [...]ile▪
[Page] The dew of heaven ere it approach the earth
Make us beleeve the rockes of ice doe flame,
And may indanger the north starre; my wonder
Will make me reasonlesse [...]it throwes a poyson
On your whole family, a staine so deepe
And so prodigious, all the blood within
His Dukedome wo'not purge it; could he finde
No excuse for his revolt to Domitilla,
But blasting the sweet Princesse.
King.
Domitilla
Whom I must tell you I already have
Prepar'd to be thy bride, as an addition
To the reward I owe thy services.
Mont.
Prepard for me? you are too bountifull
In you I kneele both to my king and father;
But my aspiring will be satisfied
To be your servant still: in your grace I
Injoy the bri [...]de my heart affects; let me
Grow old with duties here, and not translate
My affection till my weary soule throw off
The burden of my dust.
King.
No more: in this
One act, Ile build a monument of my love
To thee, and my revenge upon the Duke;
Thou instantly shalt marry Domitilla;
Her Beauty, Blood and Fortune will deserve thee.
Mont.
I am your creature▪ but how this may inflame▪
The Duke.
King.
Tis meant so.
Mont.
But your sisters fame
Were worth your first care; this may be done
With more accesse of joy when shee is righted:
You have beene pleasd to heare my counsell Sir
And not repented.
King.
What would'st thou advise me?
Mont.
The Duke is young and apt to erre; you cannot
Preserve your hospitable Lawes to affront
Him openly, nor will it be thought prudence
[Page] To let loose these suspitions to the descant
Of peoples tongues; th'aire is dangerous;
Let me search the Dukes bosome, for the spring
Of this dishonour.
King.
How?
Mont.
Mistake me not;
Philoberto is his secret consellour,
And the receiver of his thoughts; leave me
To manage this great worke; I have a way
To every angle of his heart; meane time
Be pleas'd to keepe your person but retired;
A silent discontent will fright him more,
And arme us with full knowledge.
King.
Wise Montalto,
I like thy honest counsell, and obey it;
But lose no time.
Exit.
Mont.
It never was more pretious;
My essence is concern'd and every minute
Brings a fresh seige against Montaltoes life;
There's none but Philoberto conscious
To my last accusation of the Princesse;
Then hee must be remov'd; delayes are fatall;
Ile poyson him to night; I have the way;
This done, the Duke may follow, or be brib'd
With Domitillaes person to quit Naples.
Enter Guido, Aloisio, Alexio.
Guid.
My honour'd Lord.
Mont.
Guido, Aloisio;
Why make I this distinction y'are but one,
To your Montalto, have one heart and faith;
Your love and dilligence must now be active.
Guid.
You have deserv'd us.
Alex.
Lord of our fortunes.
Guid.
Wee are your creatures,
Bound by all Law and conscience of the court
To serve your ends.
Mont.
Tis but to waite close
And contrive excuses, if the Duke
[Page] Desire accesse to the King.
Gui.
This all.
Mont.
Be carefull
None of his traine nor faction be admitted,
In speciall Philoberto; if he appeare,
Present my service, and desire to speake with him;
This is no mighty Province gentlemen
To waste you much; yet this neglected will
Destroy my tall fate, in whote fall you must
Stoope and be strucken dead with the large ruines.
Gui.
Kill us not first by your suspition;
We looke upon you as out destimy;
Prosper as we are faithfull.
Mont.
You divide me.
Alex.
There is much trouble in his face, how e [...]e
Let us be firme; is not this Philoberto.
Enter Riviero.
Riv.
My honor'd Lords.
Gui.
We are proud to be your servants.
I am yours; where is the Lord Montalto.
Alo.
New gone from us, and desires to speake with you,
And is gone either to your lodging or the Dukes.
Rivi.
I have some affaires with the King, and that
Dispatch'd Ile waite upon him.
Gui.
We are confident
You will excuse us; we receiv'd command
That none should interrupt him.
Rivi.
I come from the Duke.
Alo.
His excellenct will conster it our duties.
Riv.
This was not wone.
Alo.
We dar [...] not sit dispute
Our masters pleasure.
Gui.
Perhaps his confessor is with him.
Rivi.
Perhaps there is some cunning; nay preserre
The businesse of the soule, I may presume
He has no long Catalogue to account for.
Gui.
You have not beene of toun [...]eu with his conscience;
We doe not use to limit his devotions.
Rivi.
[Page]
Tis picus, and you three by [...]
Montaltoes knaves here plac'd, to keepe away
Discoveries: in spight of all your subtilties,
The king shall know my minde, and understand
The history of your patrons and your service;
Let time speak your reward in your owne chronicles.
Alo.
You not forget my Lord Montalto ha [...]
Desire to speake with him.
Rivi.
Tis all my businesse;
Be carefull of your watch and looke about you,
Some Wee sell may get in else.
Gui.
Does he jeere us?
Alex.
Let him; his Embassy is not perform'd.
Enter Duke, Montalto.
Mont,
You doe amaze my understanding Si [...]
To require I should justifie a tale
Made to the blemish of so chaste a Lady.
Duke.
Did not your Lordship tell such a story
To Philoberto in my lodging [...].
Mont.
I date his molice, to aff [...]t; and tis not
Done like your selfe to sully with one breath
Two sames.
Duke.
Shall I not credit my owne eares?
Mont.
Deare Sir, collect your selfe, and let not passion
To Domitilla whom you may passesse,
Here after make you so unjust.
Duke.
Deare Machiavill
This will not doe; the King shall know your stratagems.
Mont.
Goe threaten babes; this would exalt my rage,
But I remember [...],
Nor would I grieve the genius of my country,
To place my owne revenge above her honour.
Duke.
Poore shaddow.
Mont.
Now.
Drames a dagger at the Dukeanbarke.
Twill not be safe; you know your change.
Exit.
Guid.
We are proud to sc [...] your eace [...] in health.
Duke.
Where i [...] the King?
Alo.
A little [...] Sir.
Alex.
[Page]
Not yet I thinke, he is at his prayers.
Duk [...].
Ile adde to his Letanie.
Guid.
It wo'not neede;
I thinke his ghostly father can direct him,
With whom he is in private.
Duke.
I know not
How to interpret this; I want Philoberto.
Exit.
Enter Octavio.
Octav.
Your graces
Servant; he lookes displeas'd.
Guid.
My Lord Octavio.
Octav.
Your servant Lords.
Guid.
You meet the Duke.
Octav.
His face shewed discont [...]nt.
Aloi.
We summe our fortunes in Montaltoes smile,
By whose commands we have denyed the Duke
Accesse to'th King.
Octav.
You have done well▪ it much
Concernes my Lord; his and all our fate
Depends upon't; continue still your care
And circumsp [...]ction, and while I am within
Let none be admitted.
Exit.
Guid,
Let us alone;
A spirit may have the device to enter,
But if he have so much body as a Gnat
Ile know his errand; whoes this; oh it tis
My Lady Domitillaes Secretary.
Enter Bombo.
Bom.
Here are so many trickes, and turnes, and dores
I'these Court lodgings, I have lost my selfe.
Guid.
M r. Secretary.
Bom.
Twas you betrayd me to the King, and caus'd
My Ladies to be sent for, with more cunning
To bring me hither; but alls one, he has
Not seene me yet not sha'not; which
Is my [...]ay out of this labyrinth.
Alo.
Why are you so unwilling the King should see you?
Guid.
Or to live in Court; me thinkes this habite
[Page] Becomes you now; doe [...] it not my Lord.
Alex.
He lookes like a true Hero.
Bom.
You are beside the story Sir; I did reade once
That Hero had no upper lip; shee was
A Lady of Leanders lake.
Guid.
A wit? theres a new word; now for the Hellespont,
Heele make a subtile courtier.
B [...]m.
It has undone me.
Alo.
Vndone thee how?
Bom.
I know not whether it be my wit or clothes,
Or disposition of the place, or all
Together, but I am su [...]e I am in love,
I finde it by the losing of my stomacke;
I am most strangely in love.
Guid
With whom?
Bom.
I know not.
Aloi.
Can you not guesse.
Bom.
I hope tis with my selfe, for I did vow
When my first mistresse dyed which was,
Guid.
What?
Bom.
A dairy maide that we had i'th Countrey,
To love no living woman bove an houre;
Shee was the very creame of all her Sex;
Oft have we churn'd together.
Guid.
And drunke healths
In Butter-milke.
Aloi.
But doe you hope you are in love with your selfe Sir.
Bom.
Marry doe I Sir; is that so wonderfull at Court.
Guid.
You are pleasant.
Aloi.
Lets be rid on him.
Guid.
Come you shall now speake with the King,
And he shall knight thee; more honours may follow.
Bom.
You shall excuse me; put your honours
Vpon some body else.
Guid.
Doe you know what tis.
Bom.
I have not read of late.
Aloi.
But you are much given to hearing,
What is honour.
Bom.
[Page]
Honour a buble is that is soone broke,
A Gloworme seeming fire, but has no smoake.
Aloi.
There's fire and water.
Bom.
And smoake for ayre;
A painted Sun-beame, peece of gilded Chaffe,
And he that trusts leanes to a broken staffe.
Gui.
You should have reconcil'd the foure elements
To the conceit; there was fire, aire, water;
Wheres the earth.
Bom.
Oh he that leanes to a broken staffe shall
Finde that presently.
Enter King reading a paper, Octavio.
Guid.
The King.
Bom.
King bee your leave; I vanish.
Exit Bombe.
King.
This paper containes wonder; tis not possible.
Octa.
Vpon my lise Sir, Philoberto can demonstate these.
King.
The Divell has not art
To abuse us so; this will require some counsell;
Enter Montalto.
Hee's here,
Montalto; leave us.
Exeunt Lords.
Mont.
Sir your pleasure.
King.
Is all in thee; hast met with Philoberto?
Mont.
Not yet.
King.
No matter; I have thought upon't,
And doe conclude it best to let things passe
Yet in a dreame; choise and enquiry may
Awake suspition upon innocence.
Mont.
You cannot thinke her guilty Sir.
King.
I am not
Without some feares; I have collected things
Since we conferr'd, that stagger my good thoughts.
Mont.
Of her you cannot; Sir unthinke agen,
What ever would betray her to your jealousy;
A Virgins Monument cannot be more chaste
Ith Temple.
King.
Yes, yes; we may be all cozend;
And therefore let her passe among things desperate;
[Page] Yet were I c [...]rtaine shee were spotted thus,
As tis but a young Leprosie upon her,
I could wish heartily my Sister timely
Married, not to the Duke that would betray us,
But to some one I know not, who could love
Vs both, so well as be that rare friend
And save our honours.
Mont.
Doe you then suspect her.
King.
Oh the Dukes Character had a powerfull sence;
And who knowes but shee may be lost by one
Not fit to make her reparation;
Could any Nobleman be found in Naples
To binde her wound up by so great an act
Of secrecy and marriage; but some winde
May listen and convey, I know not whether,
What my sad breath has scatter'd in the aire;
Thy Master has no servant that dares take
One sorrow from him.
Mont.
You are Sir provided
Of more then that can rise to in my service.
King.
Canst thou be so compassionate to lose
Thy hopes of richer beauty, for my sake?
Darst thou with all this knowledge hide her stain [...],
And marry her?
Mont.
My duty to your Majestie
Shall marry me to death; let not this trouble
The quiet of your heart; Ile take Theodosia,
And thinke upon her as shee had the whitenesse
Of my good Angell.
King.
Th'art a miracle;
Teach me but which way I may reward this love;
Till now I had no poverty; thy worth
Will make me everlastingly in debt;
What shall I say?
Mont.
Great Sir, no more; your favours
Flow from a bounty, which hath onely heaven
Above it.
King.
They are all trifles; let me see,
[Page] Is nothing in thy power to make thee finde
My gratitude? how barren are we, wealth,
Honour.
Mont.
Ther's nothing good or great you have not
Freely possest me with; your favours would,
So mighty have they falne upon me, rather
Expresse a storme, and I had su [...]ke beneath
The welcome violence, had not your love
From whence they flowed, inabled me to strength
And manly bearing.
King.
I was inprovident
To reserve nothing, or it was a fault
In thee to be so prodigall of merit
In thy past services; canst thou thinke of nothing
Worth my addition.
Mont.
Nothing Sir.
King.
I have it,
And thanke my better genim I have it,
Such a reward Montalto that I dare
Be modest yet pronounce, never did Prince
Exceede it to his friend.
Mont.
Sir you amaze me,
And shame my want of merit.
King.
In the title,
Let Kings peruse the benefit and study
An imitation to their best loved creatures;
Th'are great as fortune can invent; Ile teach thee
A way Montalto, to know all thy friends.
And enemies.
Mont.
That were a pretious knowledge,
Were it in nature; with your highnesse pardon
The hearts of men are not to be measured
With what we reach the starres, [...] fadome Seas;
Oh he thats active in a state has more.
Chainde to him by the power and strength of office,
Then genuine respect; and tis not worth
Or person, but the fortunes of a Statesman
That sometimes men adore.
King.
[Page]
Tis true; and therefore
I am pr [...]ud in this that I can teach thee looke
Into mens soules, to know 'em fit for scorne, or
Thy embraces.
Mon.
How may this Sir be done?
King.
Almost 'ith twinckling of an eye too.
Mont.
Strange.
King.
I seeme to frowne upon thee.
Mont.
How Sir?
King.
Doest apprehend me; I will counterfeit
That I am displeas'd with thee; doe not mistake me,
And have it voic'd about the Court, thou art
Consin'd, doest marke; at this will all thy enemies
Whose hearts thou canst not see, their tongues before
By thy great power silen [...]d, joyne in faction
Complaine, discover their whole stocke of malice,
Tickling their spleenes, that thou art out of favour,
Whom I shall heare and smile at; then all those
Whose honest soules deserve thee, will rise up,
The champions of thy same o'th other side
And be so many Oratours to make
Thy faith and honour shine; when this done,
The scene is chang'd, I send for thee; thou commest
With a most glorious traine; and then Ile smile,
Take thee agen i'th sight of all, discover
Twas but a tricke, thy friends keepe still thy bosome,
And thou in triumph shoot'st a scorne with mine
To strike all envie dumbe; Ist not a rate one?
I cannot doe enough for thee Montalto.
Mont.
You have found out a way I must confesse;
But with your pardon, I shall be more able
To do: you service in the other ignorance,
Then ru [...] a desperate hazard in this knowledge;
Some hold it sinne, and capitall enough
To have the Princes [...] favour, which once lost
Though but in suspition; they may rage,
And like a torrent rise to o'rewhelme nature.
King.
These sha'not wound thee.
Mont.
[Page]
And how other Indges
May wrest the actions of a man imployed
Though ne're so faithfull to his King and state.
King.
I am confident of thy justice and decree,
Thy triumph in't; thy goodnesse thus con [...]cuous
Renders thee loved, and fit for Theodosia
When she is brightest; the Sunne never smi [...]
More cherefull upon teeming earth,
Then I to finde thee perfect; for I doe
But seeme displeas'd; come, I will have it so;
If thou dost love me, no dispute, but let me
Pursue my fancie meant to doe thee honour.
Who waites?
Enter Lords.
Now it begins;
Attend my Lord Montalto to his Chamber,
Where our will is, he be consin'de untill
Our pleasure further knowne.
Guid.
How's this?
Alex.
Aloi. Consin'd!
King.
No ceremony Sir; when that's done,
We ease you of the trouble too of waiting;
You know the way my Lords to your owne lodgings,
From whence on perill of our anger stirre not
Vntill wee send for you— Octavio.
Guid.
Doe we not dreame.
Mont.
Something wo'd creepe
Like a dead sleepe upon me; I am in
A Labirinth; but hence with coward feare;
I know the worst; grim death can but translate
Me hence, and there's an end of death and fate.

The fift Act.

Simphorosa, Theodosia, Domitilla.
Theo.
He conforted and counsel'd Domitilla;
I have my part in loves affliction.
Sim.
[Page]
This I fear'd
Enter Iacamo.
I must acquaint the King; where is your fellow
Bombo? his mirth might now be seasonable.
Iaca.
Hee's gone Madam.
Sim.
Gone, whither?
Iaca.
Backe to the country house; he heard of my Lord
Montaltoes disgrace, and the feare of his supp'ying
The place of a favorite, sent him away this morning
With all his moveables; the countrey he saies
Is wholesome, where he will dye without feare or wit when
His time comes; he durst not stay to see the King.
Exit Iaca.
Sim.
Would we had still beene strangers to the Court;
Leave us; my daughter is much bound to your grace.
Dom.
It is the King you speake of; pray be carefull
You speake all goodnesse of him, he deserves it,
And will when I am dead.
Sim.
Ile lose no time.
Exit.
Theo.
I wish it prosper.
Dom.
I dare not say the King dissembles with me;
That were a fault beyond my love; but sure
Something he said that made my heart beleeve
He did not meane me for another; and
Montalto, whose reward I must be thought,
Is now consin'd, and under his displeasure.
Theo.
He will have more care of his honour then
To place thee so unworthily; Montalto
Has plaid the cunning traytour with our loves,
If I may trust thee noble Philoberto
That told me the whole story of his falsehood,
Which I before suspected.
Dom.
And if he should dispise me as tis justice,
Will heaven be angry if I love him still;
Or will the King call it a treason in me?
If hee doe, I can willingly dye for't,
And with may last words pray he may live happy;
But why am I this trouble to your grace?
My story is not worth one of your minuts;
[Page] Deare Madam pardon me, and teach me how
To make my time more happy, spent in something
That may concerne your highnesse; you doe love too.
Enter Iacamo.
Iaca.
Madam, the Duke of Florence.
Theo.
How the Dake?
Dom.
Why does he visite me? Madam indeed
You may beleeve I love him not.
Theo.
Admit him
I preethe, and conceale me Domitilla;
I know he comes a wooing to thy beauty;
I preethe let me heare the second part:
Exit.
Dom.
I shall against my owne desires obey you.
Enter Duke.
Duke.
The ambition of my eyes can not be thought
Immodest, if they ever wish to dwell here;
They have found their light agen; let no misfortune
Be a second cause to bury me in darkenesse.
Dom.
Your graces pardon, if my haste to attend
The King and his commands made me appeare
Rude when I left your excellence.
Duke.
This does more
Then satisfie.
Dom.
I know not how I may
Stand guilty in your thoughts by keeping a
Rich Caskanet.
Duke.
You honor'd me to accept it.
Dom.
But with a blush I must remember too
I did not thanke you; there was want of time
Or manners; I must leave it to your mercy,
And would by any duty to your grace
Expiate my errour.
Duke.
Madam it is not worth
The mention of this gratitude; Your breath
Makes the oblation rich, and me who am
Encourag'd by your [...], to present you
With something of more valew, then a world
Of these poore empty glories; I dare give you
[Page] My heart Madam.
Dom.
Blesse your grace from such a meaning.
Duke.
Can you be cruell to it?
Dom.
I ne're had
The confidence to looke upon a wound;
And such a bleeding object as your heart
Would fright my senses.
Duke.
You are more ingenious
Then not to understand that I meane love;
I love you Madam, best of all your sex.
Dom.
You cannot Sir, you dare not.
Duke.
How?
Dom.
You dare not be so wicked I am am sure
When you remember, what you are, a Prince.
Duke.
Is it a sinne for Princes to love Madam?
Dom.
Or if you could dispence with so much passion
To love me, and durst give me, what I tremble
To thinke you promise, that, that very act
In which you most advance affection to me,
Would make me thinke you love me not.
Duke.
Be clearer.
Dom.
How should I thinke his courtship worth my trust,
And meete him with a reall change of hearts,
Who in his very first attempt of love,
Would blast my honour, and betray me to
A shame, blacke as the tongue of infamy.
Duke.
Would I?
Dom.
And more;
For you in this
Would tempt me to an act, by which I should
Not onely wound my selfe to death of honour,
But make me guilty of anothers blood,
And kill an innocent Lady, whose least teare
Is worth a thousand lives of perjurd men
That make a scorne of vertue.
Duke.
What Lady?
Dom.
Have you forgot the Princesse Sir?
Duke.
The Princesse!
Dom.
[Page]
In that name youle finde your selfe agen
Lost in a mist of passions; oh thinke
The fames and hopes of two rich countries are
Engag'd upon your faith; your highnesse pardon,
I finde some blushes chide my too much boldnesse,
And by a nearer view now of your goodnesse,
I see my errour to beleeve you meant
Other then tri [...]ll of me, or could fall
To any thought beneath your birth and honour.
Duke.
But if Theodosia be made anothers
By her owne gift, and I at large, with what
Justice may I be thought then to addresse
My passions hither.
Dom.
If the Princesse, which
I must not thinke, give your heart backe agen,
And that you could quit all your tyes with honour,
My thoughts are all resign'd to the Kings will;
He must dispose of me, by my owne vow,
Without his free conlent never to marry.
Exit.
Duke.
The King; there tis; I thought shee was his mistresse;
Tis not possible the Princesse now
Can pardon my neglect; Montaltoes practise
Vpon me, and his poysoning of her vertue
Wo'not excuse my shame; I dare not see
Whom I have injur'd, Theodosia;
In am resolv'd, this [...]ight Ile [...]ea [...]e from Naples.
Enter Theodosia.
Theo.
Nay doe not hi [...]de your face my Lord; it will
Appeare as fresh and lovely to my eyes,
As when it first presented me your smiles;
I am Theodosia still.
Duke.
But I have beene?
Theo.
Abus'd; time will discover to the ruine
Of his owne name, and glory of our loves,
Montaltoes practise to divide our sonles.
Duke.
You cannot be so mercifull; or else
This sweetnefle is put on to enlarge my guilt,
When we are both compar'd; dare you beleeve
[Page] I can repent and be'reveng'd.
Theo.
Vpon whom?
Duke.
Vpon my selfe, for suffering my [...]ye [...]
To wander from this sweetnesse.
Theo.
You outdoe
The satisfaction; if your grace can finde
Me grow agen within your heart, where first
My love desired to plant.
Duke.
Oh let me drowne
My blushes in this over slow of charity;
But there's an act that justice calls me to,
Before I can be worthy of this peace.
Montalto has plaid the villaine; now I finde it,
And from his treacherous heart my sword must force
A bloody satisfaction for thy honour,
Poyson'd by him.
Theo.
Stay that revenge; shame has
Already sunke him.
Enter a Courtier.
Court.
Sir the King desires
Some conference with your grace, and with you Madam.
Theo.
I shall attend you Sir; we shall present
Together, thus no object to displese him.
Duke.
Though I shall blush to see him, Ile waite on you.
Exeunt.
Enter King, Riviero, Andrugio; Petitioners.
King.
Good heaven, upon what humane bosome shall
We that are made your substitutes on earth
Place secure confidence? and yet there may
Be malice in complaints; the flourishing Oake
For his extent of Branches, stat [...]e, growth,
The darling and the Idoll of the wood,
Whose awefull nod the under trees adore,
[...]hooke by a tempest, and throwne downe must need [...]
[...]ubmit his curled head and full growne limbes,
[...]o every common Axe, be patient, while
[...]he tortures put to every joynt the Sawes
[...]nd engines, making with their very noyse
[...]he Forrests groane and tremble; but not one
[Page] When it was in his strength and state revil'd it,
Whom poverty of soule, and envy sends
To gather stickes from the trees wish'd for rume,
The great mans Embleme; I did love Montalto,
And wed not have him lost if justice would
Consent, and be a little of his side;
But here are the two plummets weigh him downe;
His impious practice on the Duke, and base
Aspertions on our sister that defame
Our whole blood, is a loud, loud accusation.
Rivi.
His conscience dares not Sir deny't.
King.
And you
Speake here the tragicke story of Rivi [...]ro,
Whose honest soule for not complying with
His power and ends, chose in a discontent
To make himselfe an exile, yee pursude,
And by the practise of Montalto poyson'd
At Rome.
Andr.
This letter sent to Alvarez,
Whose [...] Physicke purg'd his soule away,
Is too much testimony.
King.
Tis his Character.
Enter Octavio.
Octavio you come for justice too.
Octav.
It were a vaine breath to desire it Sir;
Your thoughts are still so conscious of vertue,
They will prevent petition.
King.
Come nearer.
Rivi.
The King is troubled.
Andr.
Where he loved, to finde
So much ingratitude.
King.
Andrugi [...].
Rivi▪
Things are not yet mature for my discovery.
King.
You observe—away—
Exit Andr. Octa [...] ▪
We may be just Philoberto,
Yet not destroy another attribute,
Which shewes whose repre sentative we are;
Mercy becomes a King; too much can be
[Page] But thought a sinne on the right hand; we are
Resolv'd.
Enter Simphor [...]sa.
Madam you are welcome.
Rivi.
I begin
To feare there is some spell upon the King;
If after this Montalto shall prevaile,
Let innocence be stronger to the world,
And heaven be afraid to punish vice.
King.
Remove
For a few minuts.
Rivi.
I obey.
King.
You tell me wonders Madam; las poore Lady,
I shall then have enough to reconcile;
Shee was too hasty to interpret me
Her lover.
Sim.
If you Sir apply no cure,
The fond impression may I feare indanger
Her sence and life; I urg'd Montalto Sir
By your command, before his change of fortun [...],
But shee tooke no delight to heare him namde.
King.
No, no, nor I; good heaven how I am troubled
How to repaire this pretty peece of innocence,
Whom I have brought into a waking dreame
Of passion; something I must doe; pray tell me,
But tell me truth; I charge thee by thy duty
To me, to Naples, and to heaven, or if
There be in womans faith, or thy Religion
Any thing else to make it up a full
And perfect conjuration.
Sim.
You fright me;
Without these not a thought within my heart
But you have power to summon.
King.
Tell me then,
Is D mitilla vertuous?
Sim.
How Sir?
King.
Is shee exceeding vertuous; is sh [...]e most
Divinely chast; can shee doe more then blush
At wanton sounds; will shee be'very angry
[Page] At an immodest offer, and be frighted
To heare it nam'd; tell me; does shee pray
And weepe, and wod be torne upon the racke
Ere shee consent to staine one virgin thought:
Or dares shee more then Lucrece kill her selfe
To save her honour, or doe something more
Miraculously then all this to preserve
Her white name to posterity.
Sim.
I know not
How to reply to these particulars;
But if your meaning be to have me speake
Truth of her modest and pare thoughts, shee is
All that her mother can beseech of heaven
To blesse a childe with of so chast a soule,
And vertuous simplicity.
King.
No more;
I doe beleeve, and will finde out a way
To make her satisfaction; tis just;
Say I desire her presence.
Sim.
Now you blesse us;
A widdowes prayers and teares for this great bounty.
Exit.
Enter Riviero.
Rivi.
Your sister and the Duke Sit.
King.
There's new trouble.
Rivi.
Never so lovingly united;
The pleasant language of their eyes and gestutes
Doth speake their hearts at peace.
King.
That would rejoyce me.
Enter Duke, Theodosia.
Theo.
Take us to your love;
All jealousies are banish'd, and we both
Breath from one soule.
King.
My wonder and my joy.
Duke.
Your pardon.
King.
Take my bosome.
Theo.
The misfortune
Kept us at distance, was your cr [...]atures act.
King.
The clouds are now remov'd.
Rivi.
[Page]
Lord Montalto, Sir.
King.
Let Musicke speake
His deare approach; we sent for him.
Rivi.
How's this:
King.
Let me intreate you to obscute your persons
A while.
Exit Duke, Theodosia.
Lond Musicke—Enter Guido, Aloisio, Alexio, Andrugio, Octavio, Montalto.
King.
My Lord y'are welcome to us, very welcome
We have kept our word, and finde you have not lost
Your confidence; what a brave armour is
An innocent soule? How like a [...]ocke it bids
Defiance to a storme, against whose ribbes
The insolent waves, but dash themselves in peeces,
And fall and hide their heads in passion [...]
How would a guilty person tremble now,
Looke pale, and with his eyes [...] to the ground
Betray his feare of justice.
Mont.
Where should honour
Shine with his pure and [...]
Where there is such a King, so good, so great,
The example and reward; he must be
A rebell twice to [...] that can live
To be convinc'd of a dishonour neare
Such an instructive goodnesse.
King.
Where be all his fierce accusets?
Call 'em to his presence,
Whom all their envies would destroy.
Rivi.
So, so;
The King is charm'd.
Octav.
They are gone upon the first
Newes of my Lords [...] they vanish'd Sir.
Mont.
So may all reason fly the brow of innocence▪
King.
Tis well said; but they sha not fly their names;
Reade there just to our thoughts, they apprehended
Thee lost in our displeasure (wheres our sister)
And now they came to be reveng'd Montalto,
Vpon our favours.
Guid.
[Page]
Right, and please your grace.
King.
Theres something may concerne your want of grace
Andrugio, Philoberto.
Gives them papers.
Mont.
We are undone Guido, and I see more
Engines are leveld at my fate.
Rivi.
The King would have your Lordship peruse this.
Andr.
And these.
Rivi.
That you may know your friends and enemies.
Mont▪
Lost, lost for ever.
Rivi.
Sir you know
You have obliged the Princesse Theodosia
And the Duke to you, and you may presume
To use their favours, they are here.
Enter D [...]ke, Theodosia.
Mont.
Twere better
For me they had no beeing. I did never
Expect this; to accuse me for the death
Of Riviero; but I must obey
This fatall revolution.
King.
Why does Montalto kneele.
Mont.
I dare not aske your pardon,
Onely I beg you would put on a brow
Rough as the cause you have to make it frowne,
And that may strike me dead without more torment.
King.
Ingratefull man! am I rewarded thus▪
Not onely with my faith abus'd and subjects,
But wounding all our honours.
Theo.
Let him finde your mercy Sir
For his offence to me.
Enter Simphor [...]sa, Domitilla.
King.
I must not, dare not pardon; twere a sinne
In me of violence to heaven and justice.
Mont.
You have beene a Royall Master.
King.
Take him hence;
His life will draw a scorne upon the Kingdome;
Expect the censure of o [...]r lawes you gentlemen▪
We onely banish from the court.
Gui. Aloi. Alex.
You are mercifull.
King.
[Page]
Pray and be honest.
Rivi.
That last w [...]ll be the greatest [...]
King.
My passion would be strong but here is one
Come to divert the streame; how is it with
My pretty Domitilla; you and I
May change some words in private.
Octav.
The King is just, and tis within your silence
To make Montalto nothing.
Rivi.
Hee will sinke
Apace without that weight upon him; malice
Shall have no share in my revenge.
King.
And since Montalto
Is become incapable,
I wo'not marry thee; that [...] a thing too common?
But thou shalt be my mistresse, a preferment
Above my first intention; be wise
And entertaine it; oh the dayes and nights
Weele spend together.
Octav.
The King's very pleasant
With Domitilla.
King.
Come kisse me
Domitilla; kisse me now
Before all these; what needs this modesty;
Come let us take in one anothers soule.
Dom.
Are you the King of Naples.
King.
So they call me,
And if there be a power within that name
It shall be thine to make thee glorious,
And great above our Queene; there is no title
[...]ike unto that our heate and blood creates
A mistresse Domitilla.
Dom.
Are you Sir in earnest?
King.
Doe but thou consent, and I
Will give thee such a proofe in my embraces
Of the delight; they will not follow us;
[...] tell thee more i'th bed-chamber.
Dom.
I dare
Not understand this language▪ can the King
[Page] Be impious; how was my opinion cozen'd
Sinne hath deform'd his very shape; his voyce
Hath now no harmony.
King.
This is but to draw
More courtship from me.
Dom.
Pardon I beseech you;
I have found my errour.
King.
Will shee yeeld?
Dom.
I did consent
Too soone to my captivity,
Though modesty would not allow me strength
To tell you so; but you have Sir, by what
My fond thoughts never did expect, reliev'd me,
to make me know my selfe; and now preserving
That duty which I owe you as my King,
I call love backe agen, and can looke on
Your lusts with a becomming scorne.
King.
You can.
Dom.
Yes, and were Naples, Rome, and all the wealth
Of Italy laid downe, the great temptation,
Thus I would spurne their glories.
King.
Come this is but the tricke of all your sex;
We know you can dissemble appetite,
As if you were not slesh and blood.
Dom.
Sir give
Me leave to goe while I have power to pray for you,
Where was I lost? is there no friend to goodnesse;
Have I contracted such a leprous forme
That I have lost all mens defence and charity.
Octav.
Madam your innocence doth raise in me,
Though young, a willing champion, and with
My safe obedience to the King, I dare,
Armde with the witnesse of her cause, defie
The greatest souldier in the world.
King.
How's this?
Octav.
Sir, in a noble canse, if you to whom
In the first place truth flies as to an Altar,
Wave her religious defence I dare dye for her.
King.
[Page]
You so brave? to prison with him;
We will correct your saucinesse.
Octav.
You will grace
My first act Sir, and get me same by suffering
For so much sweetnesse.
Dom.
Let not your displeasure
Great Sir fall upon him; revenge what you
Call disobedience here.
King.
You owe much to
His confidence; nor is there any punishment
Beyond your love and liking of his boldnesse;
You two should make a marriage with your follies.
Octav.
Let Domitilla make Octavio
So blest.
Dom.
My Lord you now deserve I should
Be [...] whom with the hazard of the Kings
Anger, and your owne life you have defended;
There is a spring of honour here, and too it
[...]th presence of the King, his Court and Heaven,
[...] dare now give my heart; nor is't without
My duty to a promise.
Octav.
Now you make
Octavio happy.
King.
Tis to my desires,
[...]nd I dare wish you joyes; forgive this practise;
[...]ay preety Domitilla I did this
[...]ut to divert more happily thy thoughts
[...]f me, who have not paide yet the full tribute
[...] my Cesarias dust; agen let me
[...]ongratulate thy choise in young Octavio,
[...]hose birth and forward vertue will deserve thee;
[...]other and sister love, and wish them happinesse.
Theo. May all joyes spring within their hearts.
Duke. I must present this gentleman to be more knowne to you
Octav. I hope you are no enemy to this blessing.
Sim. I adde what doth become a most glad mother,
blessing to your loves.
King.
Noble Riviero.
Rivi.
[Page]
I live agen by your acknowledgment.
Duke.
Sir you may trust my testimony; Alvarez
Letter is now an argument of his safety,
Who is yet living to increase the guilt
Of false Montalto.
King.
Welcome; tis thy life
That hath revers'd Montaltoes doome, whose sentence
Now shall bee onely banishment; our hearts
Are full and sprightly; nothing wants but to
Perfect with holy ceremony, what
Your hearts have seal'd; mirth in each bosome flowes,
Distraction never had so sweet a close.
FINIS.

THE EPILOGVE.
As it vvas spoken to the Lord Deputie on Newyeares-day at night, by way of vote, congratulating the New yeare.

OVr Poet doth forget his Play;
There is something he would pay
Due to your greatnesse, and the day
Which by a revolution of the spheare
Is proud to open the New yeare.
And having look'd on you, hath hid his face,
And Chang'd his robe with Starres to grace
And light you going to bed, so waite
With trembling Lustre on your state.
Shine brighter yet, y'are not the same
Cleare Lampes you were shine like the name
Of him I bow too, while aflame
Active, and burning here with pure desires
Shall equall the best borrowed fires.
May health, the bosomes friend, streame through your blood,
And know no ebbe of the chast flood,
And though time shift, and yeares renew,
May yet the Spring be still in you.
May She, whom heaven hath sweetly grac'd
And in your noble bosome plac'd,
Whose heart by onely yours embrac'd,
Hath made one true, and holy Gordian, prove
Fruitfull in Children, as in love.
And may this faire Top-branch, whose early bloome
Doth promise all the fruit can come
To vertue, and your name be blest,
And live a story to the rest.
All Honour with your fame in crease,
In your bosome dwell soft peace,
And Iustice, the true roote of these;
Wealth be the worst, and out side of your fate;
And may not heaven your life translate,
Till for your Royall Master, and this Ile,
Your deeds have fild a Chronicle,
In all thats great, and good, be bold,
And every yeare be coppie of the old.
FINIS▪

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