ACT. II.
Enter Ethne and Fedella, dancing.
Eth.
I am weary, and yet I would have more, my heart
Was never more dispos'd to mirth, Fedella.
Fed.
Mine is as light as yours, Sister, I am
All aire, me thinks.
Eth.
And I all mounting fire.
Fed.
'Tis well we are alone.
Eth.
'Tis ill we are;
This heat our servants should have given us:
Fed.
I wonder we cannot see 'em, they were not
Since we first tooke them to our favor, guiltie
Of such neglect.
Eth.
You wrong our birth and bloud,
To thinke they dare neglect us, for if they
Forget what we deserve in loving them▪
They owe more dutie, as we are the Kings
Daughters, than to displease us so.
Fed.
That binds:
But forme and heartlesse ceremony, Sister▪
By your favor, I had rather hold my servant
By his owne love, that chaines his heart to mine,
Than all the bands of state.
Eth.
I am of thy mind too, wo'd they were here,
I shall be sad againe; fie, what a thing 'tis
For two Ladies to be in love, and alone without
A man so long.
Enter Rodamant.
Fed.
Here's one.
Eth.
A foolish one, our Governors servant,
How now Rodamant?
Rod.
Keep off.
Fed.
What, is the fellow conjuring?
Rod.
I wo'd, but I cannot read these devillish names.
Eth.
How long hast thou serv'd Archimagus?
Rod.
Long enough to have had a Devill of mine owne, if hee had pleas'd, I have drudg'd under him almost these seven yeeres, in hope to learne the trade of Magick, and none of his spirits will obey me; would I were a witch, then I should have a Familiar, a sucking Devill, upon occasion to doe me service.
Fed.
A Devill?
Rod.
Oh, I lov'd him of a child.
Eth.
What wouldst thou do with the Devill?
Rod.
Only exercise my body, take the aire now and then over steeples, and saile once a month to Scotland in a sieve▪ to see my Freinds. I have a granam there, if I had been rul'd, would not have seen me wanted a divell at these yeers, pray Madam speak to my Master for me, that my freinds may not laugh at me, when I come out of my time, he has spirits enough, I desire none of his grands, a little Don Digo Diabolo would serve my turne, if he have but skill in Love or Physicke.
Fed.
Physick for what? art sick?
Rod.
I am not sick, but I am troubled with a desperate consumption.
Eth.
How?
Fed.
Why that's nothing.
Rod.
To you that are great Ladies, and fed high
But to a man that is kept lean and hungry
A little falling of the flesh is seen.
Eth.
I heard thee name love, prethee art thou in love?
Rod.
In love? look on my sore eyes.
Eth.
They are well enough, and thou canst see.
Rod.
Yes, I can see a little with em, would they were out.
Eth.
How? out?
Rod.
Out of their paine. I have but seaven teeth and a halfe, and foure on em are rotten, here's a stump, a pickax cannot dig out of my gummes.
Fed.
Are these signes of love?
Rod.
Oh infallible. Beside, I cannot sleep
For dreaming a my Mistresse.
Eth.
So, and whats her name?
Rod.
You shall pardon me, she is—
Eth.
A man or a woman.
Rod.
Nay she is a woman, as sure, as sure as you are the Queens daughters. I name no body; do not you say 'tis the Queen, I am what I am, and she is what she is.
Eth.
Well said.
Rod.
And if I live, I will dy for her, but I forget my self, I had a message to tell you; first my Master commends him to your Graces and will be here presently: secondly I have news, Do you know what I meane?
Fed.
Not we.
Rod.
Why then, my Lord Ferocbus, and his brother
Endarius, you know em?
Eth.
What of them?
Rod.
And they know you.
Fed.
To the purpose.
Rod.
I know not that, but they are
Eth.
What?
Rod.
Not made for wormes meat.
Fed.
What meanes the fellow?
Rod.
The King has commanded, they shall be throwne from a rock into the sea, thats all, but here's my Master can tell you the whole story.
Exit.
Eth.
What said the scritchowle
Enter Archimagus
Fed.
We hope Archimagus brings better newes.
And yet his face is cast into a forme of sorrow.
What are these?
Arc.
Read, and collect your noble forces up,
You will be lost else, alas poore Ladies,
How soon their blood is frighted?
Eth.
Every character
Gives my poor heart a wound.
Fed.
Alas, how much of mischief is contain'd
In this poore narrow paper.
Eth.
Can this be?
Arc.
Madam too true, the anger of the King
Is heavy and inevitable, you may
Beleeve what their sad pens have bled to you;
They have no hope, not once before they die
To see your blessed eyes, and take their leave,
And weep into your bosome, their last farewell.
Fed.
They must not, sha' not die so.
Arc.
They must Madam.
Eth.
I will die with 'em too then: Sister shall
They leave the world without our company?
Fed.
Could not you bend the King our cruell father?
You should have said, we lov'd them; you have most
Power to prevaile with him; you should have told him,
The gods would be offended, and revenge their death
With some strange curse upon this Iland.
Eth.
You knew our loves, and all our meetings Sir,
They were not without you, nor will we live
Without them, tell our father. Did our hearts
Flatter themselves with mirth, to be struck dead
With this, this murdering newes. I'll to the King.
Arc.
Stay, and containe your selves, your loves are brave,
Nor shall your flame die thus; as I was first
Of counsell with your thoughts, I will preserve 'em:
They sha'not die, if my braine leave me not.
Fed.
Oh, I could dwell upon his lips to thank him.
Arc.
But they must then be banish'd.
Eth.
That's death.
Unlesse we go along to exile with 'em.
Ar.
I have the way, they shall deceive the sentence
Of the enraged King, and live; nor shall
This be reward of your affections;
You shall converse more often, and more freely
Than ever, if you dare be wise and secret.
Fc.
You make us happy.
Arc.
Here's your elder brother,
Away and trust to me.
Enter Coribreus.
Cor.
Health to our Priest.
Arc.
And to your Highnesse. Enter Emeria and Conallu.
Do you see that couple?
Cor.
My brother and the faire Emeria, Milcho's daughter,
Out of their way; but so, to reach their voice,
This place o'th'Garden's apt.
Arc.
Observe 'em.
Em.
But will you not, my Lord, repent to have plac'd
Your love so much unworthily.
Con.
Oh never.
My best Emeria, thou hast a wealth
In thy owne vertue, above all the world;
Be constant, and I'm blest.
Em.
This hand and heaven
Be witnesse where my heart goes.
Cor.
If my fate
Cannot enjoy thy love, I shall grieve both
Your destinies.
Arc.
Be confident you shall
Enjoy her, if you'll follow my directions.
Cor.
Thou art my genius, but she's very holy,
And, I feare, too religious to her vowes,
She is devoted much to Ceanerachius, head of the gods.
Arc.
Sir her piety
Prepares your conquest, as I'le manage things,
I wonot trust the ayre too much.
Con.
This kisse and all's confirm'd.
Em.
Pray my Lord use
My poore heart kindly, for you take it with you.
Con.
I leave mine in exchange.
Exit.
Arc.
He is gone, advance
To your Mistris, and if you want art to move her,
I shannot sir, to make you prosper, tis
Firmely design'd, when we meet next, you shall
Know more.
Exit.
Cori.
How now my fair Emeria.
Em.
I do beseech your highnesse pardon,
I did think I was alone.
Cori.
Alone you are
In beauty sweet Emeria, and all
The graces of your sex.
Em.
You are too great to flatter me,
And yet this language comes
So neer the wickednesse of court praise, I dare not
With modesty imagine your heart means so.
Cori.
Yet in this garden, when you seem'd most solitary,
Madam, you had many fair, and sweet companions.
Em.
Not I sir.
Cori.
Yes, and my rivalls too Emeria,
And now they court thy beauty in my presence
Proud erring things of nature, dost not see
As thou dost move, how every amorous plant
Doth how his leavy head, and becken thee;
The winde doth practise dalliance with thy hairs
And weave a thousand pretty netts within
To catch it self.
That violet droop'd but now,
How tis exalted at thy smile, and spreads
A virgin bosome to thee. There's a rose
Would have slept still within his bud, but at
Thy presence, it doth open his thin curtains
And with warm apprehension looking forth
Betrayes her love in blushes. And that Woodbin
As it would be divorc'd from the Sweet-bryer,
Courts thee to an embrace. It is not dew
That like so many pearls embroider all
The flowers, but teares of their complaint, with feare
To loose thee, from whose eye they take in all
That makes them beautifull, and with humble necks
Pay duty unto thee their onely spring.
Em.
Your Grace is courtly.
Cor.
When these dull vegetalls
Shew their ambition to be thine Emeria,
How much should we, that have an actiue soule
To know and value thee, be taken with
This beauty? yet if you dare trust me Madam,
There's none, within the throng of thy admirers,
More willing, more devote to be thy servant
Then Coribreus.
Em.
I must agn beseech
Your pardon, and declare my self most ignorant:
Pray speak your meaning in a dialect
I vnderstand.
Cor.
Why, I do love you Madam.
Em.
If this be it, I dare not sir beleeve
You condescend so low to love Emeria,
A worthlesse thing.
Cor.
Why not? I love you Madam.
If there be difference of our birth or state,
When we are compa'd, it should make me the first
In your fair thoughts: come, you must love agen,
And meet me with an equall active flame.
Em.
I am more skil'd in dutie sir, then love.
Cor.
You would be coy, your heart is not bestow'd.
Em.
Indeed it is.
Cor.
On whom?
Em.
I must not name.
Cor.
Were he my brother did twist heart with thine,
That act should make him strange to my blood,
And I would cut him from his bold embraces.
Em.
Alas, I feare.
Cor.
I know you will be wise
And just to my desires Emeria,
When you shall see my love bid fairest for you,
And that presented from a Prince, who knowes
No equall here. Come, I already promise
My self possest of those faire eyes, in which
I gazing thus, at every search discover
New crystall heavens, those tempting cheekes are mine,
A garden with fresh flowers all the winter;
Those lips invite to print my soul upon 'em
Or loose it in thy breath, which I'le convey
Downe to my heart, and wish no other spirit,
As loth to change it for my owne agen.
How in thy bosome will I dwell Emeria,
And tell the azure winding of thy veins
That flow, yet climbe those soft, and ivory hills
Whose smooth descent leads to a blisse, that may
Be known, but puzzle art and tongue to speak it.
I prethee do not use this froward motion,
I must and will be thine.
Em.
Be your own sir,
And do not thus afflict my innocence,
Had you the power of all the world, and man,
You could not force my will, which you have frighted
More from you then my duty, although powerfull,
Can call agen; you are not modest sir,
Indeed I feare you are not, I must leave you,
Better desires attend your Grace and me.
Exit
Cor.
This wo'not gain her, her heart's fixt upon
My brother, all my hope is in Archimagus,
She is a frozen thing, yet she may melt.
If their disdain should make a man despaire,
Nature mistook in making woman faire.
Exit
An altar discovered, two Idolls upon it, Archimagus and priests, lights and incense prepar'd by Rodomant.
Ro.
These be new Dieties, made since yesterday,
We shift our gods, as fast as some shift trenchers;
Pray sir what do you call their names, they are
But halfe gods, demi-gods as they say, there's
Nothing beneath the navell.
Ar.
This with the thunderbolt is Jupiter.
Rod.
Jupiter? 'Tis time he were cut off by the middle,
He has been a notable thunderer in his dayes.
Prie.
This is Mars.
Ro.
Mars from the middle upward. Was it by my Lady
Venus direction that he is dismembred too.
H that overcame all in a full careere, looks now like
A Demilaunce.
Arc.
Are they not lively form'd, but sirra away, tell the young Ladies the King is upon entrance.
Enter King, Queen, Conallus. At the other door, Ethne, Fedella, they all kneel.
Ar.
To Jove and Mars the King doth pay
His duty, and thus humbly lay
Upon his Altar, his bright crowne,
Which is not his, if they but frowne.
In token you are pleas'd, let some
Coelestiall flame make pure this roome.
A flame behinde the Altar.
The gods are pleas'd, great King, and we
Return thy golden wreath to thee,
More sacred by our holy fume;
None to the Altar yet presume▪
Now shoot your voices up to Jove,
To Mars and all the Powers above.
After the song the Queen offers, and her daughters, garlands, which are placed upon the beads of the Idols.
Song at the Altar.
Come away, Oh come away
And trembling trembling pay
Your pious vowes to Mars and Jove.
While we do sing,
Gummes of precious odours bring,
And light them with your love.
As your holy fires do rise,
Make Jove to wonder
What new flame
Thither came
To wait upon his thunder.
The song being ended, the Idol that presented Jupiter moveth.
Kin.
Archimagus, Conallus; see my children,
The statue moves.
Arc.
Approach it not too neere.
Eth.
It is prodigious.
Arc.
With devotion,
Expect what followes, and keep reverent distance;
I am all wonder.
Jupe.
King Leogarius,
Jove doth accept thy vowes, and pious offerings,
And will showre blessings on thee; and this kingdome,
If thou preserve this holy flame burnes in thee.
But take heed, thou decline not thy obedience,
Which thou shalt best declare by thy just anger
Against that christian stragler Patricke, whose
Bloud must be sacrific'd to us, or you
Must fall in your remisse and cold religion.
When you are mercifull to our despisers,
You pull our wrath upon you, and this Iland.
My duty is perform'd, and I return
To my first stone, a cold and silent statue.
Arc.
What cannot all commanding Jove? 'tis now
That artificiall tonguelesse thing it was,
ow are you bound to honour Jupiter?
hat with this strange and publike testimony
Accepts your zeale. Pursue what you intended,
And meet this enemy to the gods, that now
Expects your entertainment.
King.
I obey.
Come my Queene, and daughters.
Queen.
I attend you Sir.
Rod.
Is not the Queene a lovely creature Sir?
Prin.
Why how now Rodamant, what passion's this?
Rod.
Oh that I durst unbutton my minde to her.
Arc.
Your Princely daughters pray they may have leave
To offer in their gratitude to the gods
One other prayer, and they will follow Sir.
Ki.
They are my pious daughters, come Conallus.
Exeunt King, Queen, Conallus, &c.
Arc.
They are gone, uncloud.
Fero.
Oh my deere Mistresse, is not the King mock'd rarely?
Eth.
My most lov'd Endarius!
Arc.
Have I not don't my Charge?
Fed,
Most quaintly. Welcome
To thy Fedella.
Rod.
Hum, how's this? more scapes of Jupiter? they have sound their neither parts; the gods are become fine mortal gentle∣men, here's precious jugling, if I durst talke on't.
Arc.
Not a sillable, as you desire not to be torne in pieces sir.
Rod.
Gods quoth'a, I held a candle before the devill.
Arc.
To the doore and watch.
Rod.
So I must keep the doore too, here's like to be holy doings▪
Fer.
We owe Archimagus for more then life
For your loves, without which, life is a curse.
Arc.
The musicke prompts you to a dance.
E.
I'th temple.
Arc.
'T is most secure, none dare betray you here.
Eth.
We must away.
Fer.
My life is going from me.
Fed.
Farewell.
Arc.
The King expects, now kisse and part.
Eth.
When next we meet, pray give me back my heart.
Rod.
I am an Esquire by my office.
Exeunt.
ACT. III.
Enter Rodamant.
Rod.
Oh my Royall love! why should not I love the Queene? I have knowne as simple a fellow as I hath been in love with her horse, nay they ha been bedfellowes in the same litter, and in that humour he would have been leap'd, if the beast could have been provok'd to incontinencie; but what if the King should know out, and very lovingly circumcise me for it, or hang me up a gracious spectacle with my tongue out a pearch for sparrowes? why, I should become the gallowes o'my conscience: oh I would stretch in so gentle posture, that the spectators all should edifie, and hang by my example.
Enter Bard.
The Kings merry Bard, if he have overheard, hee'le save the hang∣man a abour, and ime me to death.
Bar.
Rodamant, my halfe man, halfe gobling, all foole, how ist? when didst thou see the devill.
Rod.
Alas, I never had the happinesse.
Bar.
Why then, thou art not acquainted with thy best friend.
Sings.
Have you never seene in the aire,
One ride with a burning speare,
Upon an old witch with a pad,
For the devill a sore breech had.
With lightning, and thunder
And many more wonder.
His eyes indeed-law sir,
As wide as a sawer.
Oh this would have made my boy mad.
Rod.
An honest merry trout▪
Bar.
Thou say'st right , gape, and I'll throw in a bushell, why does thy hang over thy mouth; as it would peep in, to tll hw many teeth thou hast?
Rod.
Excellent Bard Oh brave Bard Ha Bard.
Bar.
Excellent ! O fi foole, Ha foole.
Rod
with what newes, and whither is thy head tra∣ve ?
Bar.
My head▪ and my feet goe one way, and boh now at their nd. The ewes is, that one Patricke a stranger, is invi∣ted to court: this way h must come, and I like one of the Kings wanton , have broke loose from he kennell, and come thus afore to bark, and bid him welcome, the King and Queene will meete him.
Rod.
Has the King invited him?
Bar.
What else man.
Sings
Oh the Queene and the King, and the royall Off spring,
With the Lords, and Ladies so gay,
I tell you not a tricke, to meete the man Patricke:
Are all now trouping this way.
This man report sings, does many strange things:
Our Priests, and our Bards must give place.
He cares not a straw, for our sword or club-law.
Oh I long to behold his gay face.
Rod.
Prethee a word, thou didst name the Queene, Does she come too?
Bar.
By ay meanes.
Rod.
Wll tis a good soule.
Bar.
Who?
Rod.
The Queene.
Bar.
The Queene ist? dost make but a soule o'her? treason, I haue heard some foolish Philosophers affirme, that women have no soules: 'twere well for some they had no bodies; but to make no body of the Queene, is treason, if it be not fellony.
Rod.
Oh my royall love▪
Bar
Love, art thou in love Rodamant? nay then thou may'st
Talke treason or any thing. Folly and madnesse are lah free, an may ride cheeke by joll with a judge. But dost thou know wha love is, thou one of Cupids overgrowne monkies? Come, crack me this nut of love, and take the maggot for thy labour.
Rod.
Preethee do thou say what 'tis.
Bar.
No, I will sing a piece of my minde, and love to thee.
Sings
Love is a bog, a deep bog, a wide bog.
Love is a clog, a great clog, a close clog.
'Tis a wildernesse to loose our selves,
A halter 'tis to nooze our selves.
Then draw Dun out o'th mire:
And throw the clog into the fire.
Keepe in the Kings high way,
And sober you cannot stray.
If thou admire no female else,
The balter may go bang it selfe.
Drink wine and be merry, for love is a folly:
And dwells in the house of mellancholly.
Rod.
'Tis such a merry baboone, and shootes quills like a Por∣cupine, but who's this?
Enter St. Patrick, and his traine at one doore. At the other, the King, Queene, his sonnes and daughters, Milcho, Archimagus, and Priests.
Bar.
'Tis he, I know him by instinct.
Sings.
Patricke welcome to this Ile,
See how every thing doth smile:
To thy staffe and thy miter,
And Lawne that is whiter.
And every shaven crowne a welcome welcome to towne.
Looke where the King, and Queene doe greete thee:
H Princoly sonnes are come to meete thee.
And see where a paire is, of very fine Eares.
Prepar'd too,
That thou may'st report, thy welcome to Court,
And the Bard too,
And so pray father give me your .
Pat.
I thank thee courteous Bard, thy heart is honest.
But to the King my dutie.
Kin.
Welcome Patrick,
For so thou cal'st thy self; we have throwne off
Our anger: and with calme, and melting eyes
Looke on thee. Thou hast piety, to forgive
Our former threats and language, and to satisfie.
For our deniall of some humble cottages,
Against the hospitable lawes of nature.
We give thee now our Palace, use it freely.
My selfe, our Queene and children, will be all
Thy guests: and owe our dwellings to thy favour.
There are some things of venerable mark
Upon thy brow, thou art some holy man,
Design'd by providence to make us happy:
Agen, most welcome to us.
Quee.
His aspect
Doth promise goodnes: Welcome.
Co.
To us all.
Pat.
If this be heartie, heaven will not permit
Your charities unrewarded.
Cor.
I am weary
Of these dull complements, Archimagus.
Ac.
I am prepar'd, I know your bloud's a longing,
To change embraces with Emeria.
Receive this, which worne upon your
Arme, is so by power of magicke fortified,
You shall goe where you please invisible,
Untill you take it off: Goe to your Mistres.
Cor.
Softly my deere Archimagus; the rest
Speake in a whisper▪ I shall be jealous of
The intelligencing aire.
Kin.
You may be confident
Our favour spreads to all▪ But where is Dichu
Your Convert? wee'l receive him to our grace too.
Pat.
He durst not Sir, approach your royall presence.
And griefe▪ for the sad fate of his two sonnes,
Hath made him weary of society:
Not farre off in a wood, he meanes to weare out
His life in prayer and pennance.
Arc
How do you tast it?
Cor.
'Tis rare, and must succeede to my ambition.
Arc.
Loose no time time then▪
Cor.
I fly, command me ever.
Exit Cori.
Kin.
I am not well o'th' suddaine.
Quee.
How? what ist
That doth offend the King?
Kin.
An evill conscience: Alas my children.
Con.
Father.
Arc.
Sir.
Eth.
Pray speake to us.
Kin.
How shall I
Win credit with this good man, that I have
Repented, for the bloud of Dichues sonnes?
Pat.
If you dissemble not with heaven, I can
Be easily gain'd Sir, to beleeve and pray for you.
Kin.
Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony
Of love with us, the seale of reconcilement.
Let some one bring us wine, I wo'not move,
Untill I drink to this blest man.
Arc.
Away.
Kin.
This place shall be remembred to posterity,
Wher Leogarius first, shew'd himself friend
To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst,
That wil not lt me expect▪ till more returne.
There is a streame of peace within my heart.
Arc.
Tis rarely counterfeited.
Con
He is my father,
I should tell him; Tis not like a King,
Tus to conpire a poore mans death. What thinks
Our royall mother? Is it just to take
By stratagemme, this innocent mans life.
Que.
What meanes my sonne?
Con.
Shall I betray the plot
Yet? and preserve him: see the wine.
Arc.
The wine
Attends you Sir.
Kin.
Tis well, ill us a cheerefull cup: here Patrick,
We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts.
Eth.
What does my father meane to doe with this
Dull thing? hee'le never make a courtier.
Fed.
His very lookes have turn'd my blood already.
Arc.
I'll spice his cup.
Kin.
Doo't strongly.
Que.
There's something within prompts me to pitty
This stranger.
Con.
Do you love wine Sir?
Pat.
If I did not,
I should presume against my nature once
To please the King that hath thus honoured us.
Con.
Do not, I say do not.
Arc.
Please you Sir?
Kin.
Come, to our Queene.
Rod.
My royall love, would I had the grace to drink to her or kisse the cup.
Pat.
My dutie.
Arc.
Now observe Sir the change, he has it home.
Rod.
I cannot live, my heart wonot hold out.
Kin.
Forbeare, as you affect your life.
Qu.
How's this? now I suspect Conallus.
Pat.
I have one boone to ask your Mjestie;
Since you look on us with this gracious smile:
That you would give my poore companions leave,
To build a little chappell in this place,
It shall be the first monument of your love;
To use our owne religion, the ground offers
Plenty of stone, the cost and paine be urs.
Kin.
Not yet?
Pat.
'Twill bind us ever to pray for you.
Kin.
If it were violent, as thou say'st, it had
By this time gnawne to his bowels.
Pat.
Sir, you mind not
The humble suit I make.
Arc.
Not yet?
Pat.
Great Sir.
Kin.
It does not alter him, he rather lookes
With frsher bloud upon him.
Arc.
'Tis my wonder,
I did not trust another to prepare his cup.
Kin.
Come, 'tis not poyson, we are abus'd.
Arc.
Upon my life.
Pat.
The King is troubled.
Kin.
Prepare another.
Arc.
It shall be done.
Kin.
Come hither sirra, you brought this wine.
Rod.
I did, Sir.
Kin.
And you shall taste it.
Rod.
Would I were but worthy.
Kin.
I will have it so. Come, drink our health.
Rod.
May I remember your good Queenes.
Arc.
And he had the constitution of an Elephant
'Twould pay him.
Qu.
How cheere you, Sir.
Pat.
Well, Madam; but I observe
Distractions in the King.
Kin.
Nay, drink it off.
Rod.
And it were as deep as the root of Penmenmaure, my roy∣all Love should have it.
Kin.
Now we shall try the ingredients, it stirr'd
Not him, has he done't?
Rod.
So.
Arc.
Yes, and the change begins to shew already.
Rod.
Hoy ho—what's that?
Bar.
Where?
Rod.
Hre, here abouts, was the wine burnt? oh there's wilde∣ the wine.
Arc.
It workes on him.
Rod.
There's squibs and crackers in my stomacke; am not I poyson'd?
Bar.
Poyso'd? we shall want a foole then.
Rod.
A way, I'll never drink agen.
Bar.
Not often, and thou beest poyson'd.
Rod.
It increases, my royall love has poison'd me, her health has blowne my bowells up. Oh a cooler, would I were a while in the frozen sea, charity is not cold enough to releeive me: the de∣vill is making fireworkes in my belly. Ha the Queene, let me but speake to the Queene; Oh Madam, little do you think, that I have poyson'd my self, Oh for your sweete sake. But howsoever; Oh think upon me when I am dead. I bequeath my heart, Oh there 'tis already: my royall love farewell.
Arc.
What thinke you now? it hath dispatch'd him raving.
Pat.
Madam, you shew a pious heart, I finde
My death was meant; but 'tis heavens goodnesse
I should not fall by poyson: do not loose
Your charity.
Bar.
Hee's dead.
Pat.
Pray lt me see the fellow.
Kin.
It affrights me, this was some treason meant to us;
And thee good man: How I am innocent.
Pat.
How soone death would devoure him.
Arc.
Past your cure.
Pat.
That power we serve can call back life, and see,
He has a little motion.
Bar.
He breathes too, ny then he may live to have th'other cup: Madam, this Patrick is a rare physition, if he sty with us, ee'l all immortall.
Kin.
Alive agen? Oh let me honour thee.
Quee.
We cannot Sir enough;
Receive me Patrick,
A weake disciple to thee: my soule bids me
Embrace thy faith: Make me a Christian.
Kin.
How? did thou heare Archimagus, let some
Convey our Queene hence, her weak conscience melts;
Shee'l be a Christian she sayes: I hate her,
And do confine her to the house of Milcho
Our zealous Provost.
Pat.
Tis the Kings pleasure Madam,
I should attend you hence.
Quee.
Where the King please.
Pat.
In any prison Madam, I dare visit you;
Be comforted, they do but fight with heaven.
Con.
I'll waite upon my mother.
Exeunt.
Kin.
Looke to my daughters,
Least this change worke on them.
Arc.
They are my charge.
Kin.
Be not dejected Patrick, we do meane
All good to thee: set forward, have a care
Of that poore fellow.
Pat.
I'll attend you Sir,
And trust to Providence we shall be safe.
Exeunt.
Bar.
How ist now Rodamant? dost thou remember thou wer dead? Thou wert poyson'd.
Rod.
There is a kinde of grumbling in my guts still.
Bar.
Sings.
Come, we will drink a cup boy, but of better brewing,
And we will drink it up joy, without any feare of—
Wine is injust that is taken on trust, if it tarry with us it fatts,
A cup boy, drinkup joy, and let e'm go pyson ratts.
Exeunt.
Enter Emeria.
Em.
What is it that doth sit so heavy on me?
Since Coribrous talk'd with me, I finde a dulnes in my braine; and
My eyes look as through a mist: which hangs upon my lids,
And weighes e'm downe. He frighted me to heare him,
He has a rugged and revengefull nature;
Not the sweet temper that his brother.
My deere Conllus, mine? alas did I
Say mine? indeed he is Master of my heart,
But something makes me feare I shall not
So happy as I wish in his possession:
Yet we have vowes on both sids, holy ones,
And marriage promis'd. But I am too loude;
Yet not, my lodgings are remote and priva'st
Of all the Court: and I have dismist the servants,
None neere to reach my voice, then till this give
Accesse, I need not feare the silent chambers.
More cloudes doe gather 'bout my eyes, 'tis strange,
I am not us'd to be inclin'd to sleepe,
While the day shines; then take what nature offers
Emeria, and comply, it may discharge
Thy waking melancholly, so I feele
It gently slide upon my sences.
Enter Spirits before Coribreus habited gloriously, and representing Ceancrochi.
Cor.
So, so, this ammlet I finde secures me
From all obsrvers, I now am in
Hr chamber, by a feate my Spirit did me:
Ha? She slepes too, what a fine Bawd the devill is,
What opportunities he can frame to bring
These things to passe; I were best loose no time;
Madam, Madam, faire Emeria.
Eme.
Ha? who's that? was it a voice that cal'd me?
Or do I dreame? here's no body, this key
Made all without sast; yet I'l see.
Exit.
Cor.
I had
Forgot, shee'le never see me if I do not
Take off my charme, perhaps I may agen be visible
If I ha not lost my selfe.
Enter Emeria.
Eme.
The doores are fast.
Ha Blesse me you Powers,
This musick is not frequent in my chambers;
'Tis here, I know not where, I can see nothing.
Cor.
Emeria.
Eme.
Who ist that calls Emeria? goodnes ayde me!
Cor.
Put off thy fright Emeria, yet I blame not
Thy feeble sence to tremble at my presence:
Not us'd to mortall eyes, and unprepar'd.
But gather strength, and call thy blood agen
Whose seate a palenesse doth usurp: I am
Thy freind.
Eme.
But no acquaintance sure, what are you?
Cor.
Not what I seeme, I have assum'd this for me,
To tell thee what a happinesse is now
Coming from heaven upon thee.
Eme.
Vpon me?
Cor.
And when the sweete Emeria is collected,
Shee will loose her life agen in joy and wonder.
Eme.
My strength returnes, this is a gentle language,
And Spirit, if thou beest one; speake thy will.
Cor.
Then know Emeria, I am no mortall
But Ceancrochi, chiefe of all the gods
That now appeare.
Eme.
I know not what to answer
But with my humble knee.
Cor.
Thy pure devotion
Richer then cloudes of incense, Myrrhe, and Cassia,
And all the Gummes whose piles make sweete our Altar,
Hath been delightfull to the gods, and me,
And I have left the Palace of the blest,
Where many glorious virgins waite: and want thee,
A fellow singer in their heavenly quire,
To visit in this forme the faire Emeria,
And thank thee for thy pious sacrifices:
Rise then and be confirm'd, we meane to honour
Thy prson and thy vertues.
Em.
Can this roofe
Be so much blest? and can so great a deity
Consider my imperfect dutie thus?
Cor.
To assure thy thoughts, ask fairest virgin, what
Thou most desirest, and it shall firmer, than
The Destinies, be made thine owne: hast thou
A wish to this worlds glorie, to be greater?
Would'st thou enlarge thy knowledge, or thy pleasure?
Do'st thou affect to have thy life extended,
Double the course of Nature; or thy beautie
Above the malice of disease, or time
To wither? Would'st thou see thy booke of fate,
And read the various lines that fall into
Thy life, as to their center: speake, and be
Possest; if thou refuse what here is nam'd,
Thy wish will come too late, Emeria?
Em.
None of all these; let me be still accepted
An humble servant to the gods.
Cor.
Then I
Will find some other way to thy reward:
First, we release that dutie of thy knee;
Reach thy faire hand.
Em.
I dare not.
Cor.
Doe not tremble,
It shall but meet another like thine owne;
For I had care not to affright my virgin:
What do'st thou see in me, that to thy sense
Appeares not man? Divinitie is too bright
For thy weake eye, and therefore I have clad
In this no threatning shape, all that is divine:
That I with safetie of thy sence, Emeria,
Might visit thee: come, I will see thee often,
If thou be wise to understand how much
It is my will to honour thee; and I
Will thus descend, and leave my beames behind,
Whose brightnesse were enough to burne thee,
To converse with thee in a loving way
Of smiling thus, and thus embracing thee—
Of mixing palmes, nay I will kisse thee too.
Em.
Doe our gods practise this?
Cor.
Not, but with those
They meane especiall grace to, such as they know must hereafter shine above with them, though meerly mortals, are ador'd; and seldome visit the world, hid thus in flesh and bloud, which wee at pleasure can assume, and have desires like you, and have our passi∣ons too, can love, I, and enjoy where wee will place the happi∣nesse, else we had lesse than men.
Em.
I thought the powers above had beene all honest.
Cor.
'Tis in them chastitie, nor is it sin
In those we love to meet wit active flames,
And be glad mothers to immortall issues:
How oft hath Jove, who justly is ador'd,
Left heaven, to practise love with such a faire one?
The Sun, for one embrace of Daphne, would
Have pawn'd his beames: not one, but hath sometimes
Descended, to make fruitfull weake Mortalitie.
Oh, if thou could'st but reach, Emeria,
With thy imagination, what delight,
What flowing extasies of joy we bring
Your sex, made nice and cold by winter lawes
Of man, that freeze the bloud, thou wood'st be fond
To my embraces, and petition me
To blesse thee with a rape, yet I woe thy
Consent.
Em.
Away:
Thou art no god sure, but
Some vicious Impostor: Can a Deitie
Breath so much impious language, and reward
Vertue with shame?
Cor.
Take heed, and doe not vae
Thy selfe by rash and froward opposition;
Know, I can make thee nothing, at a breath.
Em.
Better be so, than made so foule a being.
Cor.
Nay then, what should have beene with thy consent a blessing, shall now only serve my pleasure, and I will take the for∣feit of thy coldnesse.
Em.
Oh help, some man, I dare not call upon the gods; for they are wicked growne, oh help.
Cor.
I shall need none, thou thing of disobedience, thou art now within my power of love, or furie: yeeld, or I ll force thee into po∣stures shall make pleasure weep, and hurle thee into wantnnesse.
He carries her in. The Devils rejoycing in a dance conclude the Act.
ACT. IV.
Enter Milcho and Servant:
Mil.
Who's with the Queene, my prisoner?
Ser.
The Prince Conallus came to visit her.
Exit Sr.
Mil.
So: bid my daughter Emeria come hither,
She's come verie melancholy from the Court,
Under pretence to wait upon the Queene here. Enter Emeria.
Still sad; come, I must have your face looke otherwise,
Dresse it in smiles: I hope you put not on
This sorrow for the Queene, she is a traytor
To the King, and to the gods.
Em.
A traytor, Sir!
Oh doe not say so; 'tis, I heare, for nothing,
But looking on the stranger Patrick with
Some pitie.
Mil.
It will not run
Out of my thought; but this is the same Patrick
That was my slave once, he was a Brittan too:
I know not how, he found some treasure then
To buy his libertie: were he agen
My slave, no gold should buy him from my swine,
Whose once companion he was: Emeria,
D'yee heare? Conallus, the young Prince is come
To see his mother; use him gently, girle:
Come, I have heard he does affect thee, ha?
He may be King.
Em.
His brother Coribreus
Is neerer to that title, and he sayes
He loves me.
Mil.
Does he so? then love him best,
Eme.
Imagine I had promisd, Sir, my heart
To his younger brother.
Mil.
Break a thousand promises,
And hazard breaking of thy heart too wench,
To be but one degree neerer a Queene;
It does exalt my heart, spread all thy charmes
Of wit and language, when he courts thee girle:
Smile, kisse, or any thing, that may endeere
Him and so great a fortune: I must leave thee,
But wonot be long absent.
Ser.
Sir, the Bard does presse to see the Queene.
Mil.
He must not see her,
His insolence I'll punish; yet admit him hither,
His pleasant nature may raise mirth
In my sad daughter. Enter Bard.
Welcome, merry Bard.
Bar.
I care not whither I be or no: the Queene
I come to see.
Mil.
Shee's private with the Prince:
Come hither, do'st thou see that piece of sullennesse,
That phlegmatick foolish thing.
Bar.
And like the father.
Mil.
Make her merry, and I'll give thee
Gold joy to purchase a new harp, here's some
In earnest; thou hast wanton pretty songs
To stirre the merry thoughts of maids: I'me gone
To give thee opportunity, my presence
May spoile the working of thy mirth, that done
Sha't speak with the Queene too.
Exit.
Bar.
Fare you well Sir, and take a knave
Along we'e. Here's a rose
Sprung out of a thistle now: You are sad, Madam.
Em.
I have no cause of mirth, Bard.
Ba.
What d'yee think of me?
Em.
Think of thee, Bard; I think th'art honest, and canst shew a pleasant face sometimes, without an over joy within, but 'tis thy office.
Ba.
I know why you are so melancholy.
Em.
Prethee why do'st think, Bard?
Ba.
You want a man.
Em.
Why, thou art one?
Ba.
That's more than you know.
Sings.
'Tis lng of men that maids are sad;
Come then, and sweetly kisse them,
Their lips invite, you will be mad
To come too late and misse them.
In their cheeks, are full-blowne roses
To make garlands, to make posies:
He that desires to be a father,
Let him make haste before they fall, and gather:
You stay too long, and do them wrong:
If men would virgins strive to please,
No maid this yeere should dye o'th greene disease.
What, are you merrie yet?
Em.
I am so far
From being rais'd to mirth, that I encline
To anger.
Ba.
Come, I'll sit you with a song,
A lamentable ballad, of one lost
Her maiden-head, and would needs have it cri'd,
With all the marks, in hope to ha't agen.
Em
You were not sent to abuse me?
Ba.
A daintie aire too, I'll but tune my instrument.
Em.
No more, or I'll complaine: sure hee knowes nothing of my dishonour. How mine owne thoughts fright me?
Ba.
Now you shall heare the dittie.
Em.
Hence, foolish Bard.
Sings.
Ba.
A poore wench was sighing, and weeping amaine,
And faine would she have her virginitie againe,
Lost she knew not how; in her sleep (as she said)
She went to bed pure, but she rise not a maid:
She made fast the doore,
She was certaine before,
She laid her selfe downe in the bed:
But when she awaked, the truth is stark-naked,
Oh she mist her maiden-head.
Enter Conallus.
Ha, the young Prince, I'll tarrie no longer w'ee.
Now to the Queene.
Exit.
Con.
Emeria, prethee doe not hide thy face
From me, 'tis more than common sorrow makes
Thee look thus: If the Queenes mis-fortunes have
Darken'd thy face, I suffer too in that.
If for thy selfe thou weep'st, my almost ebbing
Griefe thou wilt enforce back, and beget
New seas, in which, made high by one strong sigh
Of thine, I meet a watry sepulcher.
My mothers fate commands my griefe, but thine
A greater suffering, since our hearts are one,
And there wans nothing, but a ceremony
To justifie it to the world.
Em.
Call back
Your promises, my Lord, they were ill plac'd
On me, for I have nothing to deserve'em.
Con.
If thou be'st constant to thy selfe, and art
Emeria still—
Em.
That word hath wounded me.
Con.
Why, art not thou thy selfe?
Em.
I have the shape still,
But not the inward part.
Con.
Am I so miserable,
To have my faith suspected, for I dare not
Think thou canst sin by any change: What act
Have I done my Emeria? or who hath
Poyson'd thy pure soule with suggestion
Of my revolt? Apostasie I'll call it,
For nxt our gods, thou art my happinesse.
Em.
Now, my deere Lord, and let mee adde thus much
In my owne part, I never lov'd you better;
Never with more religious thoughts and honour
Look'd on you; my heart never made a vow
So blessed in my hopes, as that I gave you,
And I suspect not yours.
Con.
What then can make thee,
My Emeria, lesse; or me? Thou do'st affright—
Em.
Yes, I am lesse, and have that taken from me
Hath almost left me nothing, or if any,
So much unworthy you, that you would curse me,
Should I betray you to receive Emeria.
Con.
Doe not destroy me so, e plaine.
Em.
Then thus—
But if I drop a teare or two, pray pardon me:
Did not the story touch my selfe, I should
Weep for it in another; you did promise
To marrie me, my Lord.
Con.
I did, and will.
Em.
Alas, I have lost.
Con.
What?
Em.
The portion that I promis'd to bring with me.
Con.
Do I value thy wealth?
Em.
Oh, but the treasure
I lost, you wil expect, and scorne me ever,
Because you have it not; yet heaven is witnesse
'Tis not my fault, a thiefe did force it from me,
Oh my deere Lord.
Con.
I know not what to feare,
Speake plainer yet.
Em.
You'l say I am too loud,
When I but whisper, Sir. I am no virgin.
Con.
Ha!
Em.
I knew 'twould fright you; but by all those teares,
The poore Lamb, made a prey to the fierce wolfe,
Had not more innocence, or lesse consent
To be devoured, than I to lose mine honour.
Con.
Why, wert thou ravished?
Em.
You have named it, Sir▪
Con.
The villaine, name the villaine, sweet Emeria,
That I may send his leprous soule to hell for't,
And when he hath confest the monstrous sin,
I'll think thee still a virgin, and thou art so:
Confirme thy pietie by naming him.
Em.
It will enlarge but your vexation, Sir,
That he's above your anger and revenge;
For he did call himselfe a god that did it.
Con.
The Devill he was; Oh do not wrack, Emeria,
The heart that honours thee; mock me not, I prethee,
With calling him a god, it was a furie,
The master fiend of darknesse, and as hot
As hell could make him, that would ravish thee.
Em.
If you do think I ever lov'd you, Sir,
Or have a soule after my bodies rape,
He nam'd himselfe a god, great Ceancrochius,
To whom I owe my shame and transformation.
Con.
Oh, I am lost in miserie and amazement
Exit.
Em.
So; I did see before it would afflict him:
But having given these reasons to Conallus,
For our divorce, I have provided how
To finish all disgraces by my death. Enter Archimagus.
Come, cure of my dishonour, and with bloud
Wash off my staine. Ha, Archimagus!
Arc.
Madam.
Em.
What newes with our great Priest.
Arc.
I come to tell you, heavenly Ceancrochius,
Of whom I had this day a happie vision,
Is pleas'd agen to visit you, and commanded
I should prepare you.
Eme.
I begin to finde
Some Magicall imposture. Does he know it?
Arc.
I leave to say, how much you are his favorite,
Be wise, and humble for so great a blessing▪
Eme.
This does increase my feares, I've been betraid,
I'll live a little longer then; great Priest
My words are poore to make acknowledgement
For so divine a a favour: But I shall
Humbly expect, and hold my selfe agen
Blest in his presence.
Enter Corybreus as before habited.
Arc.
Hee's here Emeria;
Never was virgin so much honoured.
Exit.
Cor.
How is it with my sweet Emeria?
Eme.
That question would become an ignorant Mortall,
Whose sense would be inform'd; not Ceancrochius
Whose eye at once can see the soule of all things.
Cor.
I do not ask,
To make thee think I doubt, but to maintain
That forme, which men familiar to such faire ones use
When they converse: For I would have my language
Soft as a lovers.
Eme.
You are still gracious.
Cor.
This temper is becoming, and thou dost
Now appeare worthy of our loves and presence.
I knew when thy wise soule examin'd what
It was to be the darling to a god,
Thou would'st compose thy gestures, and resigne
Thy selfe to our great will: Which we accept
And pardon thy first frailty; 'tis in us
Emeria to translate thee hence to heaven,
Without thy bodies separation,
I'th twinckling of an eye, but thou sha't live
Here to convince erring mortality,
That gods do visit such religious votaries
In humane for me; and thus salute 'em.
Em.
And thus be answered, with a resolute heart.
Sabs him.
Cor.
Oh thou hast murder'd me, Strumpet, hold.
Eme.
Sure if you be a god, you are above
These wounds: If man thou hast deserv'd to bleed
For thy impiety.
Cor.
My blood is punish'd,
A curse upon thy hand, I am no god;
I am the Prince, see Corybreus.
Em.
Ha? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord?
I have done a justice to the gods in this
And my owne honour. Thou lost thing to goodnesse;
It was a glorious wound, and I am proude
To be the gods revenger.
Cor.
Hlp, Oh I am lost.
He dies.
Em.
Call on the furies they did help thy sinne,
And will transport thy soule on their black wings
To hell, Princ; and the gods can do no lesse,
Than in reward to draw thy purple streame up,
Shed in their cause, and place it a portent
In heaven, to affright such foule lascivious Princes.
I will live now, this story shall not fall so,
And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus
I have done some revenge for thee in this,
Yet all this wonot hlp me to my owne
Agen; my honour of a virgin never will
Returne, I live and move, but wanting thee,
At best I'me but a walking miserie.
Exit.
Enter Rodament reading.
Rod.
My royall love, my Lady, and faire Misteries,
Such love as mine, was never read in histories.
There's love, and love, good.
The poyson to my heart was not so cruell.
As that I cannot hang thee, how's that, hang the Queene?
The poyson to my heart was not so cruell,
As that I caot hang thee, my rich jewell.
Within my heart. Oh there's hang and jewell, and heart, and heart, good agen.
I am thy constant Elfe,
And dare for thy sweet sake, go hang my slfe.
What though I am no Lord, yet I am loyall,
There's a gingle upon the letter, to shew if she will
Give me but an inch, I'll take an ell; Lord and loyall, and though no prince I am thy servant royall. There's no figure in that, yes impossibility, servant and royall.
Then grant him love for love, that doth present these,
With Noverint universi per prefentes.
there's to shew I am a Linguist, with a rumme in the rime consist∣ing of two severall languages, beside love and love, thy jeat and alablaster face. I eat because it drawes the straw of my heart, and alablaster, because there is some white in her face,
Thy jeat and Alablaster face now calls,
My love and hunger up to eat stone walls.
But so I may bite of her nose, if her face be alablaster; but she is in prison, there it holds, and I may do her service to break prison for her any way. Well, here's enough at a time, if she like this, I have an ambling muse that shall be at her service: But what stumbling block is cast in my way? This is no place to sleepe in, I take it in a story under a trundlebed: I have seene these clothes afore now, the tailor tooke measure for one of our gods that made 'em; heare freind, hal 'tis the Prince Corybreus, dead, kild, Ha? my Lord hee's speechlesse. What were I best to doe? in stead of searching the wound I'll first search his pockets: What's here? a bracelet, a pretty toy, I'll give it the Queene, but if I be found here alone I may be found necessary to his death. Ha, what shall I do?
Hides himselfe. Enter Milcho and servant.
Mil.
My daughter gone abroad without a servant?
Ser.
I offer'd my attendance.
Mil.
Ha! what's here, one murder'd? 'tis the Prince,
Slaine in my house, confusion; Look about,
Search for the traitour I am undone for ever.
Ser.
The Prince! I'll take my oath I see him not enter.
Why thus disguis'd?
Mil.
I tremble to look on him, seek everie where.
Ser.
I gave accesse to none but Rodamant, and he is gone.
Mil.
What shall we doe? remove the murder'd body,
And on thy life be silent, we are lost else.
Attend without, and give accesse to none,
Till I have thought some way through this affliction.
Did my stars owe me this? oh, I could curse 'em,
And from my vexd heart exhale a vapour
Of execrations, that should blast the day,
And darken all the world. The Prince murder'd
In my house, and the Traytor not discovered.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
One, Sir, with a letter.
Mil.
Let him carrie it back, where's the young Prince, Conallus?
Ser.
Gone long since, Sir.
Mil.
I'll lay the murder upon him,
It will be thought ambition, or upon the .
Ser.
Sir, one waits
With a Letter from the King.
Mil.
The King? that name
Shoots horrour through me now, who is the messenger?
Ser.
A stranger both in habit and in person:
This is he, Sir.
Enter Patrick.
Mil.
Ha.
Pat.
The King salutes you,
My Lord, this paper speaks his royall pleasure▪
You have forgot me, Sir; but I have beene more
Familiar to your knowledge: Is there nothing
Within my face, that doth resemble once
A slave you had?
Mil.
H, is your name Patrick?
Pat.
It is, my Lord: I made my humble suit
Toth' King, that by his favour I might visit you;
And though I have not now that servile tye,
It will not shame me to professe Iowe
You dutie still, and shall to my best power
Obey your just commands.
Mil.
He writ to me,
That I should try my art, and by some stratagem
Discharge his life; I'll do't, but all this wonot
Quit the suspition of the Princes death:
What if I lay the murder to his charge?
I can sweare any thing. But if he come off,
My head must answer; no trick in my braine?
Y'are welcome; the King writes you have desires
To see the Queene, you shall entreat her presence.
Pat.
The King has honour'd me.
Mil.
You have deserv'd it.
And I doe count it happinesse to receive
Whom he hath grac'd; but the remembrance
Of what you were, addes to the entertainment:
My old acquaintance, Patrick.
Pat.
You are noble.
Enter Queene and Bard.
Mil.
The Queene? welcome agen, come hither, sirra.
Pat.
Madam; I joy to see you, and present
My humble dutie: Heaven hath heard my prayers,
I hope, and if you still preserve that goodnesse,
That did so late, and sweetly shine upon you,
I may not be unwelcome, since there is
Something behind, which I am trusted with,
To make you happier.
Qu.
Holy Patricik, welcome.
Mil.
Obey in everie circumstance: My despaire Exit Serv▪
Shall have revenge wait on it. This is, Madam,
A good man, he was once my slave; let not
That title take thy present freedome of
My house; my fortunes and my fate, I wish,
May have one period with thee, I shall
Attend you agen, I hope we all may live
And dye together yet. My dutie, Madam.
Exit.
Ba▪
I doe not like their whispering, there's some mischiefe, hee
did so over-act his courtesie, I'll looke about us.
Pat.
Doe, honest Bard. Oh Madam, if you knew
The difference bet wixt my faith, and your
Religion, the grounds and progresse of
What we professe, the sweetnesse, certaintie,
And full rewards of vertue, you would hazard,
Nay, lose the glorie of ten thousand worlds,
Like this to be a Christian, and be blest
To lay your life downe (but a moment, on
Which our eternitie depends) and through
Torture and seas of bloud contend, to reach
That blessed vision at last, in which
Is all that can be happie, and perfection.
Enter Bard.
Qu.
I have a soule most willing to be taught.
Ba.
Oh Madam, fire, help, we are all lost,
The house is round about on fire, the doores
Are barr'd and lock'▪ there is no going forth,
We shall be burnt, and that will spoyle my singing:
My voyce hath been rcover'd from a cold;
But fire will spoyle it utterly.
Enter Victor.
Ang. Vict.
Have no dread, holy Patrick, all their malice
Shall never hurt thy person, Heaven doth look
With scorne upon their treacherie, thou art
Reserv'd to make this Nation glorious,
By their conversion to the Christian faith,
Which shall by bloud of many Martyrs grow,
Till it be call'd the Iland os the Saints;
Look up, and see what thou observ'st.
Milcho throwing his treasures into the flames.
Mil.
Patrick, thou art caught, inevitable flames
Must now devoure thee, th'art my slave againe,
There is no hope to scape: How I doe glorie,
That by my policie thou shalt consume,
Though I be made a sacrifice with thee
To our great gods; ha, ha, the Queene: Bard,
You will be exlent rost meat for the Devill.
Pat.
Heare me.
Mil.
I choose to leap into these fires,
Rather than heare thee preach thy cursed faith.
Y'are sure to follow me, the King will praise
My last act yet; thus I give up my breath, He burnes himselfe.
And facrifice you all for his sons death.
Pat.
Oh Tyrant, cruell to thy selfe, but we
Must follow our blest Guide and holy Guardian:
Lead on, good Angell, feare not, vertuous Queene;
A black night may beget a smiling morne,
At worst to dye, 'tis easier than be borne.
Exeunt.
Recorders. The Altar prepar'd with Ferochus and Endarius, as before. King▪ Conallus, Archimagus, Priest, Ethne, Fedella, a sacrifice of Christian bloud.
Arc.
Great Jove and Mars appeased bee
With bloud, which we now offer thee,
Drain'd from a Christians heart, our first
Oblation of that Sect accurst;
And may we to the Altar bring
Patrick, our second offering.
The father of this Tribe, whose blood
Thus shed, will doe this Iland good.
The gods allow what we present;
For see, the holy flame is sent
To mightie Jove and Mars, now bring
Your vocall sacrifice, and sing.
Song at the Altar.
Looke downe, great Jove and God of war,
A new sacrifice is layd
On your Altars, richer far,
Than what in arromatick heaps we paid:
No curled smoake we send,
With perfumes to befriend
The drooping aire, the cloud
We offer is exhal'd from bloud,
More shining than your tapers are,
And everie drop is worth a star.
Were there no red in heaven, from the torne heart
Of Christians, we that colour could impart,
And with their bloud, supply those crimson streakes
That dress: the skie, when the faire morning breakes.
Enter Rodamant, and whispers the King, who falleth upon the ground.
Con.
Father.
Arc.
The King.
Leo.
Away. Let not my daughters stir from hence:
Is this reward, you gods, for my devotion:
Exit with Conallus.
Arc.
No more: I could not by my Art foresee
This danger.
Eth.
Our father seem'd much troubled.
Arc.
I must appeare a stranger to all passages,
Be not disturb'd, my princely charge, use you
The free delights of life, while they are presented
In these your lovers: Sira, make fast the doore,
And wait aloofe; I'll follow the sad King.
Exit.
Fed.
No miserie can happen, while I thus
Embrace Ferochus.
Eth.
And I safe in the armes
Of my deare servant.
End.
You make it heaven by gracing me.
Fer.
But why have we so long
Delay'd our blest enjoyings, thus content
With words, the shaddowes of our happinesse.
Rod.
So, so, here's fine devotion in the Temple:
But where's my bracelet, let me see?
Fer.
Where's Rodamant?
Rod.
Am I invisible agen? Is this the trick on't.
Fer.
The doore is safe; come, my deare princely Mistresse,
And with the crowne of love reward your servant.
Fed.
What's that?
Fer.
Fruition of our joyes.
Fed.
Is not this
Delight enough, that we converse, and smile
And kisse, Ferochus.
Rodamant kisses Fedella.
Who's that?
Fer.
Where, Madam?
Fed.
I felt another lip.
Fer.
Than mine? here's none, try it agen:
Why should her constitution be so cold?
I would not lose more opportunities,
Love, shoot a flame like mine into her bosome.
Eth.
Who's that, Endurius, that kist me now?
End.
None, since you blest my lip with a touch, Madam,
My brother is at play with your faire sister.
Eth.
I felt a beard.
End.
A beard? that's strange.
Rod.
You shall feele: some else too.
He strikes Endarius.
End.
Why that unkind blow, Madam?
Eth.
What meanes my servant?
Rod.
Now to my other gamester.
Fer.
Oh, I could dwell for ever in this bosome, Rod. puls Fer. by the nose.
But is there nothing else for us to taste?
Hold.
Fed.
What's the matter?
Fer.
Something has almost torne away my nose. Endarius?
End.
What sayes my brother?
Fer.
Did you pull me by the nose?
End.
I mov'd not hence.
Did you kick me, brother?
Fed.
We have troubled foles sure, here's no body
But our selves; the doores, you say, are safe.
Fer.
Wonot that prompt you to something else?
Fed.
I dare not understand you.
What bloud is that upon your face?
Rod.
You want a beard, young Gentleman.
Fer.
Mine? Bloud; I felt something that like a flie
Glanc'd o'my cheeke:
Brother, your nose bld you that .
End.
You ned not blushd one side, brother▪ ha, ha.
Eth.
Is not this strange, sister; how came our servants
So bloudy?
Fer.
Agen. I prethee leave this fooling with my face,
I shall be angrie.
End.
I touch'd you not.
Rod.
Another wipe for for you.
Eth.
Some spirit sure:
I cannot containe laughter: what a raw head my servant has?
Fed.
Mine has the same complexion.
Rod.
Put me to keep the doore another time. I ha kept 'em ho∣nest, and now I will be visible agen.
Knock.
Fer.
Rodamant.
Rod.
Here: I was a sleep, but this noyse wak'd me.
Ha you done with the Ladies?
Open the doores.
Within. Enter Priest.
Pr.
We are undone, my Lords, the King is coming
In furie back againe, with full resolve
To break these images, his son is slaine,
And burnt to ashes since, in Milcho's house,
And he will be reveng'd upon the gods,
He sayes, that would not save his dearest son:
I feare he will turne Christian: Archimagus
Is under guard, and brought along to see
This execution done, no art can save you.
Eth.
We are lost too for ever, in our honours.
Leo.
Break downe the Temple doores.
Within.
Pr.
He's come already, we are all lost, Madam.
Fer.
Teare off these antick habits quickly, brother,
Doe you the same. More bloud upon our faces.
Oh, my Fedella, something may preserve us
To meet agen: Endarius, so, so: open.
Enter King, Archimagus, Guard. Ferochius, Endarius confidently meet the King.
Leo.
Ha! keep off, more horrours to affright me,
I must confesse I did command your deaths
Unjustly, now my son is murdor'd for it.
Fer.
Oh do not pull more wrath from heaven upon you.
Love innocence, the gods have thus reveng'd
In your sonnes tragedy: Draw not a greater
Vp on your self and this faire Iland, by
Threatning the temples, and the gods themselves,
Looke on them still with humble reverence,
Or greater punishments remaine for you
To suffer; and our ghosts shall never leave
To fright thy conscience, and with thousand stings
Afflict thy soule to madnesse and despaire:
Be patient yet and prosper, and let fall
Thy anger on the Christians, that else
Will poyson thy faire kingdome.
Kin.
Ha, Archimagus, canst thou forgive me,
And send those spirits hence?
Arc.
I can, great Sir,
You troubled Spirits, I command you leave
The much distracted King; returne and speedily,
To sleepe within the bosome of the sea,
Which the kings wrath, and your sad fates assign'd yee;
And as you move to your expecting monument
The waves agen, no frowne appeare upon you,
But glide away in peace.
End. Fer.
We do obey
Great Priest, and vanish.
Exeunt.
Eth.
Are they gone Fedella?
They talk of womans wit at a dead lift,
This was above our braines I love him for't
And wish my self i's armes now to reward him,
I should finde him no ghost a'my conscience:
But where shall we meete next.
Fed.
Let us away.
Exeunt▪
Kin.
Art sure they are gone Archimagus? my feares
So leave me, and religion once agen
Enter my stubborne heart, which dar'd to mutinie
And quarrell with the gods; Archimagus,
Be neere agen, we will redeeme our rashnesse,
By grubbing up these Christians, that begin
To infect us, and our kingdome.
Arc.
This becomes you,
And if you please to heare me, I dare promise
The speedy ruine of them all.
Kin.
Th'art borne
To make us happy, how my deere Archimagus?
Arc.
This Iland Sir is full of dangerous serpents,
Of toads, and other venomous destroyers:
I will from every province of this kingdome
Summon these killing creatures to devoure him,
My prayer and power of the gods, feare not,
Will doo't, by whom inspir'd I prophesie
Patricks destruction.
Kin.
I embracemy Priest,
Do this, and I'll forget my sonne, and die,
And smile to see this Christians tragedie.
Exeunt.
ACT. V.
Enter two Souldiers.
1 Sould.
So, so, we are like to have a fine time on't, we may get more by every Christian we have the grace to catch, than by three moneths pay against our naturall enemies.
2 Sould.
And thir noddles be so precious, would all my kindred were Christians; I would not leave a head to wag upon a shoulder of our generation, from my mothers sucking pig at her nipple, to my great grandfathers Coshering in the pease straw. How did that fel∣low looke whose throat we cut last?
1 Sould.
Basely, and like a Christian, would the fellow they call Patrick had been in his place, we had been made for ever.
2
Now are we of the condition of some great men in office, that desire execution of the Lawes, not so much to correct offences and reforme the common wealth, as to thrive by their punish∣ment and grow rich and fat with a leane conscience. But I have walk'd, and talk'd my selfe a hungry, prethee open the secrets of thy knapsacke, before we build any more projects; lets see what store of belly timber we have. Good, very good Pagan food: sit downe and let our stomackes conferre a while.
Enter Rodamant.
Rod.
royal My love is rosted, she died of a burning feaver, & since poison wonot work upon me, I am resolv'd to looke out the most convenient tree in this wood to hang my self: And because I will be sure to hang without molestation or cutting downe, which is a disparagement to an able and willing body, I will hang invisible, that no body may see me, and interrupt my hempen meditations. But who are these? a brace of mankillers a mounching; now I think what a long journey I am going▪ as far as to another world, it were not a misse to take provision along with me▪ when I come to the tricke of hanging, I may weigh the better, and sooner be out of my paine: bracelet sticke to me, by your leave gentlemen, what's your ordinary?
1. Soul.
Who's that?
Rod.
A friend, my brace of Hungarians, one that is no souldier; but will justifie he has a stomacke in a just cause, and can sight oth and naile, with any slesh that opposes me.
2. Sould.
I can see no body.
Rod.
I will knock your pate, fellow in armes, and to helpe you to see, open the eyes of your understanding, with a wooden instru∣ment that I have.
1 Sould.
I see nothing but a voice, shall I strike it?
2 Sould.
No, 'tis some Spirit take heed and offend it no, I never knew any man strike the devill, but he put out his necke bone or his shoulder blade, let him alone, it may be the ghost of some usu∣rer that kick'd up his heeles in a deare yeere; and died upon a sur∣ft of Shamroks and cheese parings.
Enter Emeria.
1 Sould.
Who's this, a woman alone?
2 Sould.
Ad handsome, what makes shee in this wood? wee'll divide.
1 Sould.
What the woman?
2 Sould.
No, I'll have her body, and thou shalt have her clothes.
Eme.
I know not where I am, this wood has lost me,
But I shall never more be worth the finding:
I was not wise to leave my fathers house,
For here I may be made a prey to rapine,
Or food to cruell beasts.
2 Sould.
No, you shall finde that we are men; what think you? which of us two have you most minde to laugh and lye downe withall.
Eme.
Protect me some good power, more ravishers.
2 Sould.
We are souldiers, and not us'd to complement, be not coy but answer.
1 Sould.
We are but two, you may soone make a choice.
Rod.
You shall finde that we be three, are you so hot?
1 Sould.
Come humble your self behinde that tree, or—
Eme.
Are you a man?
1 Sould.
Never doubt it, I have pass'd for a man in my dayes.
2 Sould.
Oh my skull.
1 Sould.
Whats the matter?
Eme.
Where shall I hide my self?
hides her self.
Rod.
Your Comrade will expect your company in the next ditch.
2 Souldier.
Are you good at that?
The second souldier strikes the first and Rodamant both.
1 Souldier.
What dost thou meane?
2 Souldier
What do I meane? what dost thou meane to beate my braines out?
1 Souldier.
I: hold, it is some Spirit, and we sight with the aire.
Rod.
Cannot a Mare come into the ground, but you must be leaping you stone horses.
2 Souldier.
My skull is as tender as a Mullipuffe.
1 Sould.
He has made a cullice of my sconce, hold deere friend.
2 So.
Has the devil no more wit then to take part against the flesh?
1
The Devill may have a minde to her himselse, let him ha her.
2
If I come back, let me be glib'd.
Exeunt reeling.
Rod.
Now Lady—what, is shee invisible too? Ha. Well, let her shift for her selfe, I have tam'd their concupiscence. Now to my businesse of hanging agen.
Enter Spirit.
I doe like none of these trees; the Devill is at my elbow now, I doe heare him whisper in mine eare, that any tree would serve, if I would but give my mind to't. Let me consider, what shall I get by hanging of my selfe, how it will be to no purpose, a halter will be but cast away, by your leave—I would not have you much out of the way, because here are trees that other men may hold con∣venient.—Oh, my wrist: 'Tis a spirit. Sweet Devill, you shall have it, the bracelet is at your service. Have I all my fingers? A pox on his fangs, now o▪my conscience I am visible agen, if the Souldiers should meet with me now, whom I have pounded, what case were I in? I feele a destillation, and would be heartily beaten to save my life.
Enter Conallus and Emeria.
Here's one, for ought I know, may be as dangerous: A pox of de∣spaire that brought mehither to choose my gallowes; would I were at home in an embroydered clout.—I'll sneake this way.
Exit.
Em.
I am no ghost, but the same lost Emeria,
My Lord, you left me.
Con.
Did not the flames devoure thee.
Em.
I felt no flame, but that which my revenge
Did light me to, for my abused honour.
Con.
Oh say that word agen: Art thou reveng'd
Upon thy ravisher? It was a god,
Thou told'st me.
Em.
But he found the way to death:
And when I name him, you will either not
Beleeve me, or compassion of his wounds
Will make you print as many in my brest:
He was—
Con.
Say, feare not, wrong'd Emeria,
Can any heart find compassion for his death,
That murder'd the sweet peace of thy chaste bosome?
Oh never, I shall blesse that resolute hand,
That was so just, so pious; and when thou hast
Assur'd, that he which playd the Satyre with thee,
Is out o'th' world, and kill'd sufficiently,
(For he that robb'd thee hath deserv'd to dye,
To the extent of his wide sin) I'll kisse,
And take thee in mine armes, Emeria,
And lay thee up as precious to my love,
As when our vowes met, and our yeelding bosomes
Were witnesse to the contract of our hearts.
Em.
It was your brother Coribreus, Sir:
That name unties your promise.
Con.
Ha! my brother?
Sweet, let me pause a little, I am lost else.
Em.
I did not well to enlarge his sorrow thus:
Though I can hope no comfort in this world,
He might live happie, if I did not kill him,
With heaping griefe on griefe thus.
Con.
He is slaine then.
Em.
If you will, Sir, revenge his death, you must
Point your wrath here, and I will thank you for't;
Though you should be a day in killing me,
I should live so much longer to forgive you.
This weake hand did not tremble when it kill'd him,
And it came timely to prevent, I feare,
The second part of horrour he had meant
To act upon me.
Con.
Wo'd he had tooke my life,
When he assail'd thy chastitie, so thou
Hadst been preserv'd: I cannot help all this.
Did it not grieve thee he deserv'd to dye, hu?
Em.
I took no joy, Sir, in his Tragedie.
Con.
That done, thou sledst.
Em.
I left my fathers house,
And found no weight hung on my feet for giving
His lust the bloudy recompence.
Con.
Thou ar happie:
The gods directed thee to fly, Emeria,
Thou hadst beene lost else with my brothers ashes,
And my deare mother, whom the hungry slames
Devour'd, soone after thy departure.
Em.
How?
Con.
I know not by what malice, or mis-fortune,
Thy fathers house was burn'd and in it he
Did meet his funerall sire too, ha? Emeria.
Enter S. Patrick, Queene, and Bard.
Ba.
Your companie's faire, but I'll leave you in a Wood, I could like your religion well; but those rules of sasting, prayer, and so much penance, will hardly sit my constitution.
Pat.
'Tis nothing to win heaven.
Ba.
But you doe not consider, that I shall loose my pension, my pension from the King▪ there's a businesse.
Qu.
Do not I leave more?
Ba.
I confesse it; and you will get losse by the bargaine; but you that have been used to hunger, and nothing to live upon, may make the better shift. The lesse you at, you say, will make the soule fat; but I have body wonot be used so: I must drinke, and goe warme, and make much of my voyce, I cannot doe good up∣on water and sallads, keep your -drinke to your selves, I am a kind of foolish , Pick, with us, wine and women are provocatives, long tables▪ and short graces are physicall, and in fashion. I'll take my leave▪ Madam, no Christian yet, as the world goes; perhaps hereafter, when my voyce is a wearie of mee, I may grow wearie of the world, and stoop to your ord▪naie, say my prayers, and think how to dye, when my living is taken from me, in the meane time
Sings.
I neither will lend, nor borrow,
Old age will be here to morrow,
'This pleasure we are made for,
When death comes all is paid for:
No matter what's the bill of fare,
I'll take my cup, I'll take no care.
Be wise, and say you bad warning,
To laugh is better than learning,
To weare no cloathes, not neat is.
But hunger is good where meat ù:
Gìve me wine, give me a wench,
And let her Parrot talke in French.
It is a match worth the making,
To keepe the merrie thought waking;
A song is better than fasting,
And sorrow's not worth the tasting,
Then keepe your braine light as you can,
An ounce of care will kill a man.
And so I take my leave.
Exit.
Con.
Ha! doe I see the Queene, Emeria?
Pat.
Alas, poore Bard, the flatteries of this world
Hath chain'd his sense: thus many selfe-loving natures,
Prison'd in mists and errours, cannot see
The way abroad that leads to happinesse,
Or truth, whose beamie hand should guide us in it.
What a poore value do men set of heaven?
Heaven, the perfection of all that can
Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,
Health, beautie, and all these not subject to
The waste of time; but in their height eternall,
Lost for a pension, or poore spot of earth,
Favour of greatnesse, or an houres faint pleasure:
As men, in scorne of a true flame that's neere,
Should run to light their taper at a glo-worne.
Con.
'Tis she, and the good Bishop Patrick with her.
Pat.
Madam, the Prince Conallus▪
Con.
Oh let me kneele to you, and then to Heaven,
That hath preserv'd you still to be my mother;
For I beleeve you are alive, the fire
Hath not defac'd this monument of sweetnesse.
Qu.
My blessing and my prayers be still my childs,
It was the goodnesse, son, of holy Patrick
That rescu'd me from those impris'ning flames
You speake of, his good Angell was our Conduct.
Con.
To him that can dispense such blessings, mother,
I must owe dutie, and thus kneeling, pay it:
May Angels still be neere you.
Pat.
Rise, Conall us:
My benediction on thee; be but what
Thy Mother is, a Christian, and a guard
Of Angels shall attend thee too; the fire
We walk'd upon secure▪ and which is greater,
Scap'd the immortall flames, in which black soules,
After their ill-spent lives, are bound to suffer.
Con.
Sir, you shall steere me, and my mothers blest
Example will become my imitation.
But there's a peece of silent miserie
Is worth your comfort, mother, and his counsell;
She is, I dare not name how much dishonour'd,
And should have bene the partner of my bosome,
Had not a cruell man forbid my happinesse,
And on that faire and innocent table powr'd
Poyson, above the Dragons bloud, or Vipers.
Em.
My humblest dutie, Madam
Pat.
Dicbu's Cell
Is not sar off, please you attend the Queene,
We are bent thicher.
Con.
Yes: and as we walk,
I'll tell you a sad storie of my brother
And this poore virgin.
Pat.
Come▪ I'll lead the way.
Qu.
With such a Guide we cannot feare to stray.
Exeunt.
Enter Ferochus and Endarius.
Fer.
Where are we yet Endarius?
En.
I cannot
Informe you more, then that we are in the wood still.
Fer.
And we are lost, our feare to die i'th sight
Of men, hath brought us hither with our blood
To quench the thirst of wolves: Or worse, to starve.
En.
We are in no feare to be apprehended
Where none inhabite.
Fer.
Now that lust is punish'd,
Which fed our hope, if we had staid i'th Temple
To have polluted it, with foule embraces:
How wearinesse, with travell, and some fasting
Will tame the flesh.
En.
Stay here's a cave.
Fer.
Take heede,
It may be a Lion, or a fierce wolves den;
How nature trembles at the thought of death:
Though it be prest downe, with the weight of life.
En.
I dare not enter, a new feare invades me.
Fer.
The worst is welcome, with our clamor, rouse
What ever doth inhabite here, or man
Or beast appeare, if any such dwell in
This Cave? We can meet charity or death.
Enter Dichu.
Dich.
What voice with so much passion calls me forth,
Ha? Be my protection good heaven:
My sonnes, my murder'd sonnes with gastly lookes,
And bruised limbes; why do you come to me thus
To fright my wither'd eyes? 'las I was innocent,
It was the King, not I commanded your
Vntimely death, I have wept for ye boyes,
And constantly before the Sun a wak'd,
When the cold dew drops full upon the ground▪
As if the morne were discontented too.
My naked feet o're many a rugged stone
Hath walk'd, to drop my teares into the seas,
For your sad memories.
Fer.
We are no spirits, but your living sons,
Preserv'd without the knowledge of the King,
By Archimagus, till a new mis-fortune
Compell d us hither to meet death, we feare,
In want of food.
Dic.
Are yee alive? come in,
It is no time to be inquisitive;
My blessing, I have something to refresh you,
Course fare, but such as will keep out sad famine:
Humble your selves and enter, my poore boyes,
You'll wonder at the change; but we to Heaven
Do climb with loads upon our shoulders borne,
Nor must we tread on roses, but on thorne.
Exeunt.
Enter S. Patrick, Queene, Conallus, Emeria.
Pat.
Now we approach the Hermit Dichu's Cell:
Are you not wearie, Madam?
Qu.
Not yet, Father,
In such religious company.
Pat.
You were not
Us'd to this travell; how does my new son,
And sweet Emeria?
Con.
I am blest on all sides.
Em.
You have quieted the tempest in my soule,
And in this holy peace I must be happie.
Pat.
You will be Spouse to an eternall Bridegroome,
And lay the sweet foundation of a rule,
That after ages, with devotion,
Shall praise and follow. You are, Sir, reserv'd
To blesse this Kingdome with your pious government,
Your Crowne shall flourish, and your bloud possesse
The Throne you shall leave glorious: This Nation
Shall in a faire succession thrive, and grow
Up the worlds Academie, and disperse,
As the rich spring of humane and divine
Knowledge, cleare streames to water forraine Kingdomes,
Which shall be proud to owe what they possesse
In learning, to this great all-nursing Iland.
Con.
May we be worthy of this prophesie.
Pat.
Discourse hath made the way lesse tedious,
We have reach'd the Cell already, which is much
Too narrow to containe us; but beneath
These trees, upon their coole and pleasing shades,
You may sit downe; I'll call upon my Convert:
Dichu, my Penitent, come forth, I pray,
And entertaine some guests I have brought hither,
That deserve welcome.
Enter Dichu.
Dic.
I obey that voyce.
Pat.
The Queene, and Prince, and Milcho's vertuous daughter
Gain'd to our holy faith.
Dic.
Let my knee speake
My dutie, though I want words for my joy,
Ten thousand welcomes; I have guests within too,
You'l wonder to salute my sons, not dead,
As we suppose, by heavenly providence,
I hope, reserv'd to be made blest by you,
They are here. Enter Ferochus and Endacius.
Your duties to the Queene and Prince,
Then to this man, next to our great Preserver.
The Patron of us all.
Pat.
A happie meeting:
I must rejoyce to see you safe, and here:
But tell us by what strange meanes, all this while,
You have been preserv'd? Sit downe.
Soft Musick.
Con.
What musick's this?
Qu.
'Tis heavenly.
Pat.
And a preface to some message,
O will of Heaven, be silent, and attend it:
Such harmony as this did wait upon
My Angell Victor, when he first appear'd,
And did reveale a treasure under ground,
With which I bought my freedome, when I kept
Unhappie Milho's swine; Heavens will be done.
What, all asleep already? holy dreames
Possesse your faucie, I can wait no longer.
Enter Victor, and other Angels. Song,
Vict.
Downe from the skies,
Commanded by the Power that lies
The world and nature in a caine,
We come, we come, a glorious traine,
To wait on thee,
And make thy person dangerfree:
Hearke whilst we sing,
And keep time with our golden wing,
To shew how earth and heaven agree,
What eccho rises to our harmoic.
Vict.
Holy Patrick, sleep in peace,
Whilst I thy Guardian, with these
My fellow Angels, wait on thee,
For thy desence: A troop, I see,
Of serpents, vipers, and what ere
Doth carrie killing poyson, here
Summon'd by Art, and power of hell;
But thou shalt soone their furie quell,
And by the strength of thy command,
These creatures shall forsake the Land,
And creep into the sea; no more
To live upon the Irish shore.
Once more then.
Song.
Patrick, sleep; oh sleep a while,
And wake the Patron of this Ile.
Enter King, Archimagus, and other Priests.
Arc.
Your person shall be safe; feare not, great Sir,
I have directed all their stings and poyson:
See where he sleeps, if he escape this danger,
Let my life, with some horrid circumstance,
End in this place, and carrie all your curses.
Enter Serpents, &c. creeping.
What think you of these creeping executioners?
Doe they not move, as if they knew their errand?
Kin.
My Queene! my son Conallus! Dicbu! ha!
And the still wandring ghosts of his two sons!
Arc.
They are alive, Sir.
Kin.
Ha, who durst abuse us?
Pr.
Will you not have compassion of the Queene,
And the Prince, Sir?
Kin.
How met they to converse?
Arc.
They are all Christian.
Kin.
Let the serpent then
Feed upon all, my powerfull Archimagus.
Pat.
In vaine is all your malice, Art, and power
Against their lives, whom the great hand of Heaven
Daines to protect; like wolves you undertake
A quarrell with the Moone, and waste your anger:
Nay, all the shafts your wrath directeth hither,
Are shot against a brazen arch, whose vault
Impenetrable, sends the arrowes back,
To print just wounds on your owne guiltie heads.
These serpents, (tame at first and innocent,
Untill mans great revolt from grace releas'd
Their dutie of creation) you have brought,
And arm'd against my life; all these can I
Approach, and without trembling, walk upon;
Play with their stings, which though to me not dangerous,
I could, to your destruction, turne upon
Your selves, and punish with too late repentance.
But you shall live, and what your malice meant,
My ruiue, I will turne to all your safeties,
And you shall witnesse: Hence, you frightfull monsters,
Go hide, and burie your deformed heads
For ever in the sea; from this time be
This Iland free from beasts of venomons natures:
The Shepherd shall not be afraid hereafter,
To trust his eyes with-sleep upon the hils;
The travellers shall haue no suspition,
Or feare, to measure with his wearied limbs
The silent shades; but walk through everie brake,
Without more guard than his owne innocence.
The verie earth and wood shall have this blessing
(Above what other Christian Nations boast)
Although transported where these Serpents live
And multiply, one touch shall soone destroy 'em.
Leo.
See how they all obey him, Archimagus.
Arc.
Confusion: All my Art is trampled on.
Can neither man, nor beast, nor Devill hurt him?
Support me, fellow-Priests; I sink, I feele
The ground bend with my weight upon it, ha!
The earth is loose in the foundation,
And something heavie as the world doth hang
Upon my feet, and weigh me to the Center.
A sire, a dreadfull fire is underneath me,
And all those fiends that were my servants here,
Look like tormentors, and all seeme to strive,
Who first shall catch my falling flesh upon
Their burning pikes: There is a power above
Our gods, I see too late. I fall, I fall,
And in my last despaire, I curse you all.
Sinks.
Kin.
Patrick, the King will kneele to thee.
Pat.
Oh rise,
And pay to Heaven that dutie.
Kin.
Canst forgive?
Let me embrace you all, and freely give
What I desire from this good man, a pardon.
Thou shalt no more suspect me but possesse
All thy desires. The ground is shut agen:
Where now is Archimagus? How I shake,
And court this Christian out of feare, not love?
Once more visit our Palace, holy Father.
The storie of your sons, and what concernes
Your escape, Madam, we will know hereafter;
I'th' mean time be secure.
End. Fer.
We are your creatures.
Omnes.
Our prayers and duty.
Pat.
I suspect him stil;
But feare not, our good Angels still are neer us:
Death at the last can but untie our frailty;
'Twere happy for our holy faith to bleed,
The Blood of Martyrs is the Churches seed.
Exeunt Omnes.