Actus primus.
Enter Aurelia and a Servant.
Aur.
CAN the Prince Philanthus, my coſen, look ſo far beneath himſelf, as on my ſervant.
Ser.
Madam, believe me, he makes love to her daily, and now they are together in the Garden.
Aur.
If this be true, as I begin to fear, for I have heard him make ſome deſperate proteſtations; yet, by the ſtronger Magick of this brow, I'le break thoſe Spells that hold him; theſe Eyes, which have to all that ſued
•
een clad in frownes, ſhall, for his ſake, receive all the
••
ditions, that a womans art can give, to make them
•
ictors. He ſhall not caſt away himſelfe, nor ſpend a
ſigh more, for ſo mean a perſon. For ſure, when I ſhall coſen him, making him think, that I will daigne to love, hee'l hate himſelfe, and flie ſo mean a Miſtreſſe. I'l ſee, if they be ſtill together.
Exeunt.
Enter Philanthus and Miranthe.
Mir.
I ſee the Princeſs comming.
Phil.
The better. Injure not ſo much your own merit,
To miſdoubt the truth of what I ſay; and if you fear
A change, I'le call the gods to witneſſe.
Enter Aurelia, and Servant.
Mir.
Good my young Lord, ſpare your raſh inconſiderate oaths,
Which you would be content to buy again at any rate,
Within this month.
Aur.
Crafty Wench, ſhe ſees us.
Mir.
You muſt not think, that I will lay my ſelfe
Open to your courtſhip thus alone, it was
By accident you met me, pray let go.
Phil.
Will you then leave me?
Aur.
How now, Coſen, making love to Miranthe?
Phil.
Madam, I ſhould be glad to gain her good opinion.
Aur.
Conſen, I hope the Court has not infected you as yet. Will you diſſemble with me your friend, or no, if I ſhould ſeriouſly ask you a queſtion?
Phil.
Madam, if I already know that vic
•••…
name,
My I or No, will be but ſmall aſſurance.
Aur.
yet I dare truſt you. Love you Miran earneſt?
Why do I ask? I do not think you yet know love means.
Phil.
Not what it is, I would I did not.
Aur.
I ſee you do, that ſigh approves it.
And, Miranthe, you love entirely.
Phil.
Admit I grant.
Exeunt Miran. & Ser.
Aur.
Leave us a little. Then you muſt grant withall,
That you much injure your ſelf; for you are equall
To the greateſt in your blood; to ſay, your minde
Or perſon's lovly, is a truth, befits ſome other
Better then my ſelfe to ſpeak. Yet friendſhip,
And pitty of your youth, to ſee you ignorantly offer your devotions
To ſo poor a Saint, whoſe influence, though ne'r ſo favourable,
Cannot protect you from a generall ſcorn forces me
To tell you, you will be counted of a low ſpirit,
Or wondrous ignorant, in loving Miranthe,
Your birth being ſo far above hers.
Phil.
Madam, 'tis true, that being deſcended from your houſe,
I ſhould have as juſt reaſon to be proud in that reſpect, as any:
But, being otherwiſe defective in thoſe things,
Which I could not receive from Anceſtours, my mind and manners;
Wonder not, that like a baſtard Eaglet, I refuſe to look upon
The Sun-bright Beauties of the Court. Yet, Madam,
You muſt think, in her I lord there's ſomething,
Though perhaps not obvious to your eyes,
That to me renders her lovely.
Aur.
'Tis true, ſhee's a good Wench, perhaps her vertue takes you.
Phil.
Madam, I know you do not ſleight that in others,
••…
ough in her you do; ſhee's your ſervant and you ſay,
••…
e's my Miſtreſſe, and Vertue ſhould be Miſtreſſe to us all.
Give me leave ſo far, to juſtifie her and my ſelfe
as to ſay, If ſhe be more vertuous then the faireſt
Lady living, I ought to love her beſt.
Aur.
Yes, if you could be married to her vertues, not to her perſon;
For fix pence I'le buy a Book, ſhall more inſtruct you in that way.
But think you, Coſen, Vertue and Beauty may not dwell together.
I am accounted fair, wherein have I appeared to you
Leſſe vertuous than Miranthe?
Phil.
In nothing, Madam, rather the wonder of your ſex.
Aur.
Couſen, believe me, there are many in the Court, that exceed
Me in both. Let me perſwade you leave Miranthe rather
for your Man to woe, and dedicate your worthier ſervices
to ſome of thoſe that I ſhall name you.
Phil.
Madam, you perſwade ſtrongly, for I rely upon your counſell
As an Oracle But think you, I have handſomeſs o wit,
To make me acceptable to a fair Lady?
Aur.
Yes doubtleſſe.
Phil.
I fear you ſay it only, to draw me from my Miſtreſs.
But ſwear, you think me worthy.
Aur.
As I live I do.
Phil.
Well, Madam, you have perſwaded me to be unconſtant;
If there be a puniſhment, may't light on you:
Or, if I fail to gain a Miſtreſs, you muſt promiſe
To inſtruct me; for, whom you'l pleaſe to name
As worthy, I'le make love to tell you all my diſcourſe,
And ſhew you all my Letters.
Aur.
Muſt you needs be in Love, it ſeems you he
been much given to read love Books; when I know your ſtudy, I ſhall fit you with a Miſtreſſe.
Phil.
Faith, Madam, they live ſuch pleaſant lives in thoſe books,
Kiſſing their Miſtreſſes hands, and looking on their fair eyes,
That I have envied them.
Aur.
Your imagination's very ſtrong, you begin with me.
I muſt provide a Miſtreſs for you very ſhortly,
I ſhall be troubled with you elſe my ſelf.
Exeunt.
Enter two Courtiers.
1.
Truſt to my skill thus far, I have wrought him handſomly
2.
My part is onely, to be ready to entertain you.
1.
No more
2.
Fare-well then.
1.
Fare-well. Let me alone to fit him here in the Country to the buſineſs, th'aſs is rich, his father more fool then he, doting upon his ſons believed perfections—Here comes the old fool.
Enter old Gudgen.
O. Gud.
Good-morrow Mr. Courtier, you'r late a riſing; you ſhould have ſeen my ſon, your ſcholler, break halfe a doſen ſtaves elſe, as gratiouſly, as ere a poor mans ſon in Milain, and for Cut, black Cut.
1.
Indeed hee's a good ſober beaſt.
O. Gud.
Very quick, he ſtarts before you can tell twenty; firſt does he trot, but then ſtand; I have the barrier thus with my whip aloſt, and when he comes, flaſh quoth I, away goes Cut ſo faſt, you cannot ſee him move, then does he ſtop moſt willingly.
•
He does indeed.
O. Gudg.
And turnes about with great 'liberation and 'gillity, but old Roane what ſay you to him, there a hot Jade indeed, as like my ſon as can be, firy and full of mettall, and here comes the grace of our Country, though I ſay 't.
Enter young Gudgen and Man.
Y. Gud.
Luckey, poulcroone, look to my Roa
•
Jennet, let him allay his fury in thy hand, before he fet his hoof within the ſtable, and ſhouldſt thou let him drinke, thou dieſt as I am generous.
Man.
Saving your young worships pleaſure; he had more need be ſet up, and have a peck of grains, heel ne're be able to plow to morrow elſe.
Y. Gud.
Peaſant, I ſay let him allay his heat, and for the plow thou talkeſt on, I will have thee know this mornings ſervice hath manumiz'd him from ſuch ba
••
employments.
O. Gudg.
How Son, whats that?
Y. Gud.
I muſt ſpeak plaine to his dull underſtanding, oh torment! let it ſuffice that Roane is free from ſervice of the plow or harrow.
Man.
I your worſhip I am ſure hath harrow'd all the fleſh off his back, a little reſt and meat will do well, Sir.
Y. Gud.
Another word, and as I hope to be a Gentleman, Ile make him feed on thee.
Man.
Good your worſhip.
Y. Gud.
Nay worſe, thou ſhalt not wait upon m
•
to our Court of Milan.
O. Gud.
'Tis his care, Son you muſt forgive him
Y. Gud.
Live then; and thank this aged Nobleman
O. Gud.
Oh hopefull boy, hee may be one indeed Sir may he not.
1.
Yes yes?
O. Gud.
'Tis no matter though I be a yeoman ſtill.
1.
No no, there will be no great indecorum in it.
O. Gud.
I, as you ſay 'twere well I were a'the coram, and ſo I will when my ſon's a Lord.
Enter a Taylor.
Y. Gud.
How my cloaths not made yet! let me periſh, if I do not revenge the blood of all the innocent lice, ſince the firſt Taylor.
Tay.
I beſeech your worſhip, you know I wanted, and you promiſt to let me have ſome money before hand.
Y. Gud.
How Taylor! money before hand? doſt thou not know I am to be a Courtier, thou ignorant Country vermine, can there be hope to proſper in a ſuite paid thee for, before hand.
1.
No tis unpoſſible you would appeare a prodigie
Y. Gud.
A prodigie; thats fine ifaith, nay I will pay aforehand then, and be a prodigie; if that be all my man to, he ſhall be a prodigie.
Man.
I thank your worſhip.
Enter Dancer.
Y. Gud.
Maſter of the Dance and Fence you have been long a comming.
Dancer.
Your worſhip knowes tis two long mile and I came but ſoftly, I muſt be more carefull of my leggs then another man.
Y. Gud.
Why ſo man, thou makeſt new ones every day.
Dance.
I Sir but I make them with my leggs, and every trades man will preſerve his tools.
Man.
Or elſe his wife will Chide him when he comes home.
Enter Singer.
Y. Gud.
Ha, ha, ha, him ſol, ſol fa, fa.
Sing.
I am glad to hear your worſhip ſo carefull of my documents, uſe a voyce, and have a voyce.
Y. Gud.
Come come ſhall we to't?
1.
Sir 'twere beſt to day you only us'd your martiall
exerciſes, you have rid, and fencing will be enough.
Y. Gud.
You ſay true, firſt I will learne to fight, and then to make my approaches to the Ladies: if they refuſe to yield to my Courtſhip,
Ile compell them by force of Armes.
1.
How raviſh them, prove a Tarquine?
Y. Gud.
I, ten Tarquines, what ſhall they contend with me?
Man.
By my faith, I will take your worſhips part.
Y. Gud.
Shee that ſhall oppoſe me had better come on Maſter of the Noble ſcience, behold thy ſcholler does thus confront thee.
Dan.
Stay Sir you are too furious, firſt you muſt marke your diſtance.
O. Gud.
I but ſonne, you loſt your opportunity; I have ſeen the time I would not have fail'd to pai'd him o're the nodel, at ſuch a vantage.
Y. Gudg.
How take upon you to teach me, goe to, you'r an old buſie fool, but, lets ſee what you can doe, come on your waies.
O. Gud,
Alas ſonne, I am old, threeſcore.
Y. Gud.
I know you might have been my father, but I have ſeen a wiſer at thirty, come on Sir.
O. Gud.
Nay Son.
Y. Gud.
Take 'em, I charge you as you expect my favour, Ile let you ſee the fence is alter'd ſince your ſword and buckler time.
Tav.
I have an itching to him.
1.
Sir your Father's old, you'l kill him.
Y. Gud.
'Tis no matter, I ſhall not be aſham'd o
•
him when I am a Lord.
1.
Faith Sir, play with your Tayler, hee's a great mind too't.
Y. Gud.
Has he, come on Sir ſhred, dare you adventer, the third part of a man to encounter; doſt thou know what thou doſt, I am a prodigie.
Tay.
I Sir, but I muſt help to make you ſo: one bout ſir, and it were at Cudgels, I durſt venter the making of your worſhips cloaths.
Y. Gud.
Oh baſe Cudgels, I will kill that lowſe that ſits upon thy ninth button.
Tay.
Well ſir.
They Play.
Y. Gud.
Oh Rogue do you offer to ſtrike, and then to thruſt againſt the Order of fence, this 'tis to play with ignorance.
1.
'Tis true ſir, I wonder you would doo't.
Tay.
I know the blow could not be great, alas I am but a louſe, a ſhred at the moſt, Sir, but the third part of a man.
1.
Away, you are ſaucie.
Tay.
Will pleaſe your worſhip to let me have ſomething before hand.
Y. Gud.
A pox on thee, thou haſt given me too much.
Tay.
Truly ſir, it was againſt my will, I did not think it poſſible I could have hit your skilful worſhip, wilt pleaſe your worſhip try another bout?
Y. Gud.
No prithee.
1.
A pox a theſe Marſhall Exerciſes,
Lets to the City, Dance, Drinke, Whore, and Dice,
Theſe are the vertues, fighting is a vice.
Exeunt.
Enter Adraſtus.
Adra.
Oh inconſtant Aurelia, but women muſt be women ſtill,
Changing though for the worſt: for wherein can Philanthus be juſtly pris'd before me; hee's young
And unexperienc'd, ſo cannot ſerve her with that waryneſs
He ought conſidering her Birth, ſure ſhe cannot love him, oh yes ſhe does, ſhe does, it is apparent.
They are ſtill together and ſee, good manners pard me.
Enter Philanthus and Aurelia.
Ile marke their actions, tho I cannot heare.
Phi.
Maddam do not refuſe to inſtruct me yo
••
ſcholler.
But heare in what language I am able to deliver
My affection in, and give ſuch an anſwer as you think
Adraſtus ſiſter will do, whom you have
appointed me to make love to.
Aur.
I will,
Phi.
Faire Aurclia.
Aur,
Her name's Lucinda.
Phi.
Maddam you know that all one, but
〈◊〉
th'at-tribute of Faire ſufficient.
A
••
Tis old and fooliſh either to ſay, faire or vertu
•
〈◊〉
Or madam, miſtris, or goddeſſe, or Divine Lady
Sweete Creature, or abſtract, or indeede
Any thing that way.
Phi.
Then thus, If the reſpect I beare your had bee
•
leſſe,
Or that after the tender of my loyall heart,
And your refuſall of it, I could have liv'd,
To enjoy your ſight I had long ere this
Made my love known, but ſince the
Manifeſtation of your diſdaine and my death are
Inſeparable accidents, wonder not that I
Have loſt ſo many opportunities to tell you.
For all Creatures have a deſire to preſerve life:
And now I ſee my laſt period approaching.
For in your heavenly eyes I read the ſentence of my death,
As plaine as if the book of fate lay open to me.
You'r are the book of fate in two reſpects,
To all that ſee and know you as I do.
For if they love you, they juſtly periſh by your ſcorne.
If they love you not, their ignorance tranſformes
Them into beaſts, a worſe Condition for a man
Then not to be at all hope cannot foole me further,
Then only make me to believe, that ſince
I have ſome intereſt in your blood youl ſhed a teare,
To witnes that you greeve my ruine.
Aur.
May I periſh, if you have not delivered this with as much paſſion.
As if Lucinda for whom this ſpeech was fram'd,
Had beene before you, but how ſhall ſhee conceave
That where you ſpeak of intereſt in her blood?
Are you akine to her?
Phi.
When you have anſwered in her perſon; for that, I ſhall reſolve You.
Aur.
Well if your affection were thus violent as you pretend,
I cannot but acknowledge that the conſideration of it
Were ſufficient to move pitty in any woman,
That did allow the follies of proteſting lovers.
But for my part I have ever laugh'd at thoſe,
Who hop'd to gaine love by the manifeſtation
Of their ſufferings, and therefore had you profeſt leſſe
Till you had made your merits appeare greater,
It would have mov'd me more: when I ſhall ſee
That in you which I aſmuch covet to enjoy,
As it ſeemes you do now ſomething in me.
Then which an equality of affection we ſhall
Meet without all theſe ſophiſticated proteſtations,
And not before: for as you purſue that which you think
Would be your happineſſe; ſo do I mine.
Which I am ſure conſiſts in my freedome
From the follies of Love.
Phi.
Tis even ſo, you have delivered nothing but what I expected.
The greateſt merit I ſhall ere attaine to,
Is quickly to remove out of the world.
One whom you ſomuch contemn.
Offers to kill himſelfe.
Aur.
Philanthus, would you take this way
To aſſure your miſtris of your affection?
Phi.
No other wayes then by my death after the aſſurance of her diſdaine.
Aur.
P'ſhew, you muſt not deſpair for the firſt deniall.
Our hearts and tongues do not alwayes agree.
And becauſe I am to inſtruct you to gaine your miſtris,
Ile diſcover ſome part of womens diſpoſition, to you;
Tho it be to our diſadvantage.
Phi.
Maddam you ſhall infinitely oblige me.
Aur.
Firſt there's few of us what ere we ſeeme,
But are content to be belov'd by all that ſee us.
And thoſe who are of birth may expreſſe love,
In their actions without offence, tho nere ſo many.
But he that comes to tell his miſtris in words he loves, her,
Had need be firſt aſſur'd that ſhee beleeves
That he hath worth enough to gaine a miſtris
Equall to her ſelf in merits, ſhould he make
Tender of his love elſe where: for when an other
Would receave that which is offer'd it does approve
The valew of the guift, and ſetts the giver
Free from ſcorne.
Phi.
Maddam for this I thanke you, but more I beſeech you.
Aur.
I will, it may be you beleeve you could not mor
•
Oblige your miſtris to reſpect you then by giving
Her aſſurance of many oaths that you can never love
Any other Lady, tho ſhee ſhould much neglect you.
Phi.
Maddam, I do.
Aur.
I thought ſo, marke a generall errour: whatſoere,
We are ſure is ours, the worth of it doth leſſen
In opinion, for we are ſtill in purſuit
Of new and difficult things to attaine: yet it is
As great a greefe to us if our priſoners.
Should undo their chaines as 'tis contentment
To enthrall a new one and make another.
Womans ſervant ours, pleaſes above thought,
Becauſe it is a teſtimony of our great vertue
And merit that drew him.
Phi.
The Change may grow as well from his inconſtancy,
As Judgement in diſcerning the worthier.
Aure.
At leaſt he will add one to the number, and multiplying
Is the art moſt women ſtudy that are faire.
Aur.
Are all ſo? Maddam; are you ſo?
Phi.
I did not tel you I would give you my particular
Character, 'twas the generall I ſpake.
Phi.
Maddam, I take it for granted, you are not ſuch.
For theſe you name, are faculty in their humours.
And therefore you being ſingular deſerve more love,
Which truſt me maddam I muſt pay to You.
Not to Lucinda what ere I have ſeem'd.
Nor ever lov'd I Miranthe.
Aur.
How Philanthus?
Phi.
Maddam, tis true by all that can be ſworne by.
That I only love Aurelia now, but how long.
It will continew, if ſhee neglect me, that I cannot tell.
Aure.
This is fine Jugling, do you make me diſcover
The weaknes of our ſex, and then aſſault my ſelfe.
I hate you, hence from my ſight.
Phi.
Maddam, I do not believe you, you told me your ſelf.
That womens hearts and tongues do not alwayes agree.
Aur.
But I told you withall I ſpoke not of my ſelfe.
And you granted too, I was not like other women.
Which you then made the argument of your love.
Therefore you muſt beleeve me when I ſay I hate you.
Phi.
Yes when 'I do beleeve that, I deſerve it.
You ſwore you thought me worthy when you went about
To perſwade me from Miranthe, which aſſurance you
Said was neceſſarie before the verball proteſtation
Of affection, and feare not that you ſhall be too aſſur'd
That I eſteeme you, for I, according to your owne rule
Will ceaſe to love you when you uſe me ill.
Aur.
Of which aſſure your ſelf, for you have offended me much.
I much above expreſſion, pray leave me to my ſelf.
Phi.
Maddam I will, but for my owne advantage.
For when I am gon, you cannot chooſe but conſider,
That my merit to your words is equall to the beſt.
Deſerver, henceforth I will not wo in words but action.
And if you love, each thought is of my faction.
Exit.
Adra.
Bleſt opportunity.
Aur.
T'is well, this troubles me; yet ſure it cannot much diſpleaſe me.
For who in Philanthus can find the leaſt defect?
When I perſwaded him not to love Miranthe,
And thought it was a friendly care, I was deceav'd.
Sure then I lov'd, it could not grow thus in an inſtant.
How in an inſtant, do I love him then? no no.
Enter Adraſtus.
I do not; yet it would trouble me to ſee him love another
Adraſtus.
I ſhall be troubled then.
Adra.
Maddam excuſe me that I interrupt your privacie
Forc'd by the violence of my paſſion, for when I ſhall be once.
Certaine of that which I ſtrongly ſuſpect,
There ſhall be nothing able to keep me
From ſudden death; not your command,
Aur.
Adraſtus, what iſt troubles you?
Adra.
Iſt poſſible that you can aske me?
Aur.
You ſee I do.
Adra.
Maddam, you know how intirely I gave my ſelfe,
Reſerving no facultie of mind or body, to be imploy'd
Other wayes then by your Diſcretions, nor dare I ſay
I yet repent, tho I ſee another ready to reape
The fruit of my labors, 'tis Philanthus happy Philanthus
Whoe's the more fortunat in that hees not above me in merit,
In affection far beneath me, nor ſhould I greeve,
To ſee him happy, were he not raiſd upon my ruines.
But I muſt ſay to hope to ſee him one day forſaken
Like my ſelf: oh no I dare not, ſure this change proceeds
From ſome defect in me which you beleeve
You have found, and not from your inconſtancy.
Aur.
Adraſtus, the knowledge which I have had of your actions towards me,
And my owne beauty, aſſur'd me that your lov'd.
But that my Courteſie had bred a beleefe in you,
That I deſired you ſhould do ſo, till now, I knew not of
Henceforward I ſhall ſet a remedy to that: For Philanthus
Being raiſ'd upon your ruins, tis a building of your fancy only.
But truſt me tis ſtrange you ſhould be Jelous of what your nere
Poſſeſt: but you beleeved you did, that was ſufficient.
From this time know to value me and your ſelf.
In ſo doing, you may regain that good opinion
I held of your judgment, which by this raſh
•…
you have loſt.
E
•…
Abra.
Loſt, even ſo I am contemned, is this the ward
Of all my ſervices, all my fair hopes
Thus blaſted? This Philanthus was born to ruine
〈◊〉
In all attempts of war and peace, he robs me of prize,
What ere ſhe ſeemed, till Philanthus ſupplanted me
My ſervices were moſt acceptable.
I had not elſe forſook Miranthe for her, and well
I know, ſhee's even with me already,
Furthering Philanthus, my Rivall, in his affection.
Now I muſt look
For nought but ſcorns from Aurelia. Could I
〈◊〉
Philanthus
Yet with my ſelfe, 'twere ſome content; umh,
The way to do it, is, to continue the ſeeming friendſh
•…
Which I bear him, ſo ſhall my plot be carried free
From ſuſpicion: Hee's of an open heart,
And ſuch natures are eaſie to work on.
The Politician, when he huggs, does ſtrike:
Rivalls in Love and State, will do alike.
Ex
•…
Finis Actûs primi.
Actus ſecundus.
Enter Agenor and Philanthus.
Phil.
SIr, you have bound me to you by ſo many vours,
That you do give me cauſe to hope, that this
Diſcovery is not diſpleaſing to you.
Ag.
Come, leave this ceremony, it does not fit our loves.
If you do love my ſiſter, the friendſhip I have vow'd,
Ties me to aid you, although I know it may much
Prejudice me in my Father's love, ſhould he know't;
For he ſo doats upon my ſiſter, that he believes
None but a god is worthy of her.
Phil.
'Tis true, ſhee's full of all that can be excellent
In women, yet ſo far do I prize you above mine own deſires or hopes,
That could your ſiſter recompence me with a love equall to mine,
And yet that love, purchaſt by you, prove prejudiciall to you
I rather would give o're the thought of love for ever,
At leaſt in ſilence rather pine and die.
No, far bee't from my friendſhip, to build my happineſs,
Though ne're ſo great, upon your ſmalleſt diſcontent.
Ag.
You wrong my love in this, and undervalue me;
For, you do ſeem to ſay, I fear to hazzard my fathers frown,
Though I could purchaſe for you what you ſo deſire:
Now, by the gods, 'twas a moſt unkinde thought;
Nay, from a man leſſe honeſt, 'twould appear
Hypocriſie; or, do you think my youth hath not yet taught me,
What 'tis to be a friend? Know, Philanthus,
The few years I have paſt, have been employed,
To make me ſomething capable of thoſe parts,
Which moſt enobles us; and I have found
Friendſhip to be the ſoul and eſſence of a man.
Therefore, believe me, ſince for your merits I have choſe you
For a friend, your diſcontents, dangers, and happineſs,
Are all mine; no, friend, I ſay, your growing love
Can plead for you, not without ſucceſſe.
She loves, but would not have you too aſſured on't,
Leſt it ſhould make you leſſe eſteem the purchaſe.
Phil.
Sir, you, in this aſſurance of your friendſhip,
And her love, tranſport me with a double joy,
Not to be expreſt in words. I ſhould fall down,
And worſhip ſuch a god-like friend, that thus
Beſtowes his favours on a deſertleſſe perſon,
Made onely worthy by his love.
Age.
Still you forget our friendſhip, heaping your thanks
And praiſe on me, a burthen my weak deſerving
Cannot bear without much ſhame; let it ſuffice,
My love makes me a ſervant to your wiſhes;
If they do take effect, 'tis your own merits,
Whom the gods cannot refuſe, that's the cauſe of it.
My friendſhip onely a willing inſtrument,
Strives to bring their divine wills to paſſe.
But Oh! friend.
Phil.
Why ſigh you, Sir?
Age.
I have long lik'd, and now I fear I love,
And therefore think, friendſhip obliges me
To tell you, yet with the reſervation of her name:
For ſhee's ſo cruell, ſo proud, if't be no ſacriledge
In me a Lover, to give that attribute.
I ſay, ſhee's ſo diſdainfull, and there's ſo little hope,
Nay rather ſuch a certain impoſſibility,
That ſhe will never love me, that I am aſham'd
To name the Tiger, that will in time, I know,
Conſume my heart.
Phil.
Tell me her name, and ſend me to her, and I ſhall quickly
Make her know, ſhee's cruell to her ſelf.
Age.
Oh friend, I do not wiſh to loſe you,
'Twere the ready way to make you falſe; ſuch a faith as yours
Perhaps, for once, might bring you off, free and untouch'd;
But ſhould you often ſee her, and converſe, you'd ſoon
Break faith with me and all the world, to gain
One ſmile from her; yet, even that ſmile were death,
Except you might enjoy them often: the deprivation
Of a good poſſeſt, being our greateſt miſery.
Phil.
Sir, may I not know this wonder, for ſuch I muſt believe her,
From your love; but more, that you believe ſhe could
Taint my faith. Venture to name her.
Age.
If you urge it as a duty, belonging to our friendſhip,
I muſt tell you; otherwaies I would for ſome
Reſpects conceal it.
Phil.
Except you mean to imploy me to ſerve you,
'Twill be to no advantage.
Age.
If you will, I'le tell you.
Phil.
Faith, Sir, I ſhall not take it ill, if you conceal her;
May be, 'tis her will, becauſe her cruell uſage
Of you, if known, would be thought folly.
Age.
'Tis her will indeed; yet, friend, ſhe hath more wit then all her ſex.
Phil.
Sir, were I not a Lover too, I ſhould believe you.
Age,
I dare not let you ſee her, ſo to approve it;
Shee'l quickly finde your worth to exceed mine.
Now is my friendſhip from leaſt taint moſt free:
If ſhe knew both, there might grow jealouſie.
Exeunt.
Enter old Gudgen, young Gudgen, 1. Courtier, and Man.
Y. Gud.
Paſſe not beyond this ſcore, I charge thee, Father, upon thy allegiance; we are now within the verge of the Court. Away, make haſte, to turn thoſe durty acres into crowns, to buy the place you wote of.
O. G.
Well ſon, e'en god be with thee.
Y. G.
Weep not, I ſay, but get you home, and remember my bleſſing to the old woman, your wife; bid her not be proud of me, though ſhe have reaſon: Many a ſweet-fac'd youth, like my ſelfe, hath miſcarried at Court, comming to be a Favourite; but I'le buy't, and make ſure work, I.
O. G.
Well, well.
Y. G.
What, not gone yet, I think I ſhall be troubled with you. Sure I was a baſtard, I could not be his ſon, hee's ſuch a coxcomb.
1.
Like enough.
Y. G.
There have been Courtiers in our town, I and my mother was worth the whiſtling after, I can tell yee
1.
I doubt it not.
Y. G.
But come, how do you like me?
1.
Believe me, Sir, yee'r wondrous well accountred.
Y. G.
Well accoutred, is that a courtly phraſe?
1.
Yes.
Y. G.
I have heard ſome word neer it in the Country. And how do you like my vaſſail?
1.
Very proper.
Enter a ragged Courtier.
Y. G.
Is he not well accoutred? What's he, what's he, Sir?
1.
Some poor ſleight fellow, you muſt be ſurly to ſuch, and look big.
Y. G.
Nay, Sir, I can look big, I learnt that of my father's Bull,
He comes towards me.
R. C.
Noble Sir, I ſhall be wondrous proud of your acquaintance.
Y. G.
Then you ſhall never have it.
R. C.
Why, Sir?
Enter 2. Courtiers.
Y. G.
Pride is a deadly vertue, humility a ſin, that will better become your clothes. Look I not big? Ha! ſtay, what's he, what's he.
1.
Some great man, by thoſe that ſue to him: you muſt abaſe your garb, and with an obſequious look ſalute him.
Y. G.
Sir, I profeſſe my ſelf the vaſſail to your Dog; if you keep none, I am a moſt devout and obſequious ſervant to your Cat.
Man.
I ſhall deſire to have the providing of her Mice.
2.
Sir, I am full of employments, excuſe me, I muſt ſuddenly give his Grace an account.
Y. G.
A great man certainly, 'tis well if I can come to ſpeak with him this two hours.
1.
Sir, may I intreat to know, what place you hold in Court? this Gentleman, I can aſſure you, is worthy your acquaintance.
Y. G.
No, no, Sir; alas, I'm an ignorant, and know nothing, wondrous ſimple, believe it; a week hence will be fair, I'le wait your leaſure. But what's your place, Sir, I beſeech you honour me, Sir.
1.
Pray, Sir, ſatisfie him.
2.
Sir, I'me a favourite to his Grace.
1.
What luck have you, Sir.
Y. G.
I, is't not good luck? Why, Sir, I come to buy a Favourites place, and think I am as fit for't as another man, and will give as much mony too.
2.
Believe it, Sir, you muſt pay well for't, 'tis a place of great advantage.
Y. G.
I know't, Sir, but one may ha't for mony, I am aſsur'd on't.
2.
Yes, you ſhall have mine on good conditions.
Y. G.
Good or ill conditions, I care not, that's all one, I'l ha't.
2.
Sir, you know not yet the duties, nor the priviledges of the place.
Y. G.
That's true, pray what are they?
2.
Firſt, you may be alwaies next the Duke, and ſo advance, or elſe keep back ſuites, as you favour or diſlike the perſon.
Y. G.
Nay, I'le diſlike all ſuites, that are not like mine own.
Man.
or mine.
Y. G.
I, or thine.
2.
The great men will give thee the firſt good-morrow, perhaps ſhew more reſpect, they are very courteous in this age: The Ladies, thei'I obſerve yee too, it may be, more then their husbands.
Y. G.
That's brave ifaith.
1.
Sir, hark yee, you muſt not ſeem ſo deſirous of it. Let me alone to talk with him, and make the bargain; let's go to the next Tavern.
Y. G.
Sir, I do not greatly care for this Favourites place of yours, I hear, a man ſhall never live in peace, my eares will alwaies be glowing; they'I do nothing but talk of me, and they'I be hang'd before they ſpeak any good.
1.
Though you deſerve ne're ſo much. Come, let's go.
2.
Nay, that's certain, they'I miſinterpret every action, if it proſper not; their faith in that is like to Turks.
Y. G.
Sir, I would have you know, I care not ijd. for your place; but if you'I go to the next Tavern, he ſhall agree with you for it.
1.
Fie, Sir, you'I ſpoyle all.
2.
But is there nothing the Duke may except againſt, in your friend?
Y. G.
Except againſt me? 'tis impoſſible, he ne're ſaw me in's life: why ſhould he except againſt me then, am not I as fit for a favourite, as another man?
2.
'Tis but a needfull objection.
Y. G.
Except againſt me?
2.
Pacifie your ſelfe.
Y. G.
I tell you Sir, if he ſhould but think of excepting againſt me, I would return into the Country preſently, as wiſe as I came.
1.
Nay, good Sir, 'tis impoſſible.
Y. G.
And he were ten Dukes, I'de ſend him to ſeek a Favourit, I warrant you. Except againſt me? what me?
1.
Nay, Sir.
Y. G.
I tell you, Sir, ſhould the Duke uſe me ſo,
His Dukeſhip does not a right Gudgen know.
Exeunt.
Enter Adraſtus and Philanthus.
Adr.
Believe me, noble Philanthus, there's nothing
That in the paſſages of life hath more contented me,
Then the happineſſe of your friendſhip. The advantages of which,
You have now had, at this and all other exerciſes,
In the perſon of any other, would have given me cauſe
Of griefe and envy; but ſince 'twas my beloved
Philanthus, that rob'd me of the glory,
The theft was ſo far from diſpleaſing,
That with the priſe you won my heart too.
Phil.
Your friendſhip, Sir, does make you attribute
To merit, that which was due unto my fortune only,
Or rather to your policy, who by permitting
Me to win this prize, thinks to encourage me
Againſt ſome others, weaker then your ſelfe;
And when I am growen ſomething rich, by little victories o're them,
You'I ſhew, you onely let me grow to this,
That with more eaſe at once, you might increaſe your ſtore.
Adr.
In this you overcome me too, but ſure in love
You cannot; I think, were I ſtill certain to enjoy
Your friendſhip, I nere ſhould think of marriage:
For to ſay true, how can there be, in vain
Phantaſtick women, halfe that contentment found,
That's in a perfect friend.
Phil.
'Tis certain, in vain Phantaſtick women, there no content.
But, Sir, excuſe me, if I ſay, y'are in an errour,
If you hold all women ſo.
Adr.
This moves him, I'le try him farther. Are you infected with that errour,
To think, there can be any other good in women,
Than onely, that they do increaſe mankinde?
Phil.
Certainly they'r good for ſomething elſe.
Adr.
Yes, to ſet debate 'twixt the deareſt friends,
To ruine husbands in their ſtates and honours,
Nay, Kingdomes, Empires; in a word, for certain,
As they bring men into the world, ſo certain
Do they ruine all our joyes.
Phil.
You ſpeak from malice, friend, I fear, not from judgment;
For you muſt give your opinion the lie, when you conſider,
That our Prince that governs us had a mother,
Who, whilſt ſhe lived, did govern him.
Adr.
It works. She was a Queen ordained by heaven and ſo
Indeed, that ſhe partaks none of her ſexe's
Ill, nor weakneſſes. Name another.
Phil.
Shee's eaſily ſeen, did not your malice blind you;
The Princeſſe Aurelia.
Adr.
As ſhee's a part of her divine Mother, I grant her excellent;
But that laid by, ſhee's but a woman.
Phil.
But a woman, would you have her a monſter, would yee?
Adr.
I muſt cloſe with him, I am ſatisfied.
How his blood ſtirs at naming her.
Sir, I'le admit thoſe two to have ſome worth.
Phil.
You had a mother Sir, and you have now a ſiſter,
Moſt perfect as I hear; will you bar them
From all that's worthy?
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
The Duke calls for you, he thinks your Lordſhips well
On your journey by this time.
Phil.
Pray let him know no other.
Adr.
Dear friend, your pardon.
Exe. Adr. & Ser.
Phil.
I do not like this carriage of Adraſtus,
He makes a greater ſhew of love to me
Then uſuall, pretending a ſtrange hatred
Againſt the nobler ſex of women; noble, becauſe
Deareſt Aurelia's one. How bleſt am I,
Though I dare onely whiſper to my ſelfe, I am beloved by her.
My plot was proſperous, & ſhee one of my beſt aſſiſtants,
To whoſe dear care I owe my happineſſe,
For by thy means, I did receive the firſt hope,
That I was beloved above what ſhe made ſhew of.
Enter Miranthe.
Mir.
And from me you muſt receive aſſurance of the contrary.
Phil.
Ha! that Aurelia loves me not.
Mir.
Shee's ſo far from loving you now, that ſhe Doth hate her ſelfe, that e're ſhe did
Phil.
Oh! I am wretched, from what a pitch of happineſſe
Thou haſt thrown me in an inſtant, 'twas unkindly done; yet,
So ſoon to let me ſee thou haſt abuſed me
By thy flatteries, in this thou haſt diſturbed,
More then inform'd my judgment.
Mr.
How?
Phil.
For, what care I for knowledge of that truth,
That brings a certain ruine?
Mir.
She did love you, and may again; croſſes in love are ordinary.
Phil.
Shee'l hear me ſpeak, that I may know the cauſe,
At leaſt, of her diſpleaſure.
Mir.
I know ſhe will not, her heart's ſo ſwoln with ſome offences.
Phil.
I have no other comfort left me but my innocence
Each accident doth croſſe me. Tomorrow I muſt
Leave the Court, to wait upon the Prince;
How ſhall I get an opportunity to ſpeak to her,
The loſſe of time will ruine me, I muſt
By Letters make her know my innocence.
Mir.
When you are gone, if I can learn the cauſe
Of her diſpleaſure, l'le write.
Phil.
Thou art all my comfort.
Exeunt.
Enter Lucinda and Linda.
Luc.
See, Linda, what I found too in my Cabinet,
Looking indeed for one of my dear brother,
Kinde Adraſtus Letters.
Lind.
Believe me, Madam, the language of this Letter,
Conſidering the ſweetneſſe of the youth that ſent it,
Would have moved pitty, if not procured love,
From any other, but your cruell ſelfe.
Luc.
Alas, good wench, I ſee thou haſt a tender heart;
In truth I would it had been writ to thee.
Lind.
Well, Madam, you think none worthy but your brother Adraſtus.
Luc.
I do indeed believe ſo; who equalls him in worth?
And till I finde one ſomething neer him, I ſhall not
Think of Marriage, I aſſure thee; for, my beauty,
Which gives place to none, will not permit me
To accept a ſervant, that is not equall to the beſt deſerver.
Lind.
Madam, though naturall affection ſtop your ears,
Againſt all reports, that do not ſound Adraſtus praiſe;
Yet, I by others hear, Philanthus and the young Prince,
In all reſpects far prais'd above him.
Luc.
Philanthus!
Lin.
Why, Madam, ſpeak you with ſo much ſcorn, hee's now
Accounted the glory of the Court, a man fram'd
Both for Love and Armes.
Luc.
Piſh.
Lind.
You never ſaw him.
Luc.
Nor nere deſire.
Lind.
Well, Madam, you are ſtrangely averſe, take heed
Love do not lay ſome puniſhment upon you,
Equall to your contempt of his great deity.
Luc.
Contempt of his great deity, had he a temple
Standing near, dedicated to him, and to his
Mother both, I would go in and yerk his little worſhip:
Or ſhould ſhe ſay, I were not fairer then her ſelfe,
And more to be adored, I'de break her Statue,
And thoſe, whom by my beauty are captive made,
Should in th'ſtead of it, erect my Picture, frowning too,
That any ſhould preſume to love me; yet in thoſe
Clouds, more powerfull to draw mens hearts to my devotion,
Floriſh.
Then ſhe, with all her wanton blandiſhments.
Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Adraſtus, Aurelia, Courtiers, and Servant.
Duk.
Daughter, me thinks you'r ſad, is't for your
Brothers abſence,—hee's now upon return.
Aur.
I am not ſad, Sir, 'tis but your conjecture.
Duk.
Adraſtus, are there no ſports, no pleaſures to delight her?
Floriſ
•
Adr.
None, Sir, the Court is clouded in the abſenc
•
of the Prince.
Duk.
What means this Trumpet? one go ſee.
Serv.
A ſtranger Knight, Sir, one that deſires to be admitted to your preſence.
Enter Herald.
Duk.
Wee'l hear what he demands: What would yee?
Her.
Great Duke, know, that this Knight is hither come,
To repair himſelfe by Armes, of an injury
He hath received; nor can he fear, ſo juſt a Prince
As your ſelfe, will break an honourable cuſtom,
That hath been ſo long us'd amongſt your Anceſtours.
Duk.
It cannot, nor it ſhall not be refus'd.
Her.
Is Adraſtus in this company?
Adr.
Yes, I am the man.
Her.
Then, Sir, my Maſter will maintain with his life,
That you have belyed a Knight, equall to your ſelfe
In merit, in whoſe behalfe hee's come to prove,
That you have wickedly invented that,
Which you have ſaid of him.
Adr.
Though I do not know your Maſter, which might excuſe
A man of my birth; yet, confident in mine owne innocence,
As having wronged no man, I do accept the Combat.
Get me my Armour, nor ſhall it longer be deferr'd,
There cannot be more noble witneſſe.
Duk.
Adraſtus, I priſe you too much, to ſuffer it.
Adr.
How, Sir? then may my arms rot off, if ever I
Lift them in your ſervice; and yet my heart
Miſgives me in this occaſion, more
Then ever. Puſh is't not before divineſt,
Aurelia? I ſhall do wonders.
Exit.
Aur.
What can this ſtranger be? or what can
Be the wrong, he now ſeekes right of from Adraſtus,
Whoſe valour makes him famous through the world?
Enter young Gudgen and his man.
Y. G.
Save your refulgent grace.
Duk.
How now, who are you?
Y. G.
A poor favourit of you graces, that deſires to be better acquainted.
Duk.
A favourit of mine, how came you ſo?
Y. G.
Knowing my ſelfe fitly qualified, and well accoutred, as they ſay, I made bold to venture a ſumme of mony.
Duk.
Is this he?
2.
Yes, Sir.
Duk.
I am bound to you, it ſeemes you love me well, that would buy my ſervice, venturing in it my refuſall of yee too.
Y. G.
Yes, in good faith, I love yee very well; I have heard in the Country a good report of you; beſides, y'are bound to love me too, by my place.
Duk.
Who ſwore you, your own imagination?
Y. G.
Swore me, why, do you miſdoubt me? I warrant yee, Sir, I'l execute it rarely.—Stand by there, the Duke is buſie, another time hee'l hear you.
Duk.
We ſhall be troubled with this Aſſe.
Y. G.
Take away this fellow, you hear what the Duke ſaies,
Duk.
Take him away, this is not a time for fooling, I am ſerious.
Y. G.
Your grace is wiſe, 'tis true indeed. See the Councill-Chamber made ready, 'tis a buſineſſe of great importance, worthy your fear. I would my old father were here, we two would adviſe you rarely i faith.
Duk.
A way, coxcomb.
Y. G.
He has a villanous head of his own, hee'l tell you how many acres of land are in your Dukedome, and never meaſure it.
Duke
How?
Y. G.
Another ſhall meaſure it for him.
Cour.
Away with this fool.
ſtrikes up Gudgens heels
Y. G.
Slight! what do you uſe a young Gentleman and a favourite thus, that comes out of his meer love to Court?
2.
Hee's quite diſcouraged, that rude fellow hath ſpoil'd all.
1.
Not a whit, if I do not raiſe him to a beliefe above what he had, ne're truſt my skill.
Y. G.
'Twas you Sir, that made me believe, I ſhould riſe at Court.
1.
Why, ſo you do; but you are no ordinary Favourite, they riſe firſt, and fall after commonly; but you ſhall riſe after your fall.
Floriſh, Charge.
2.
'Tis not without example.
Exeunt.
Enter Adraſtus and Philanthus.
Duk.
Are the Knights ready?
1.
Yes, Sir, ſee where they enter.
Duk.
Then let the juſtice of the injured's cauſe protect them
they ſight.
1.
Was ever ſeen a braver Combat?
Duk.
'Twere pitty to loſe ſuch Knights, perhaps their quarrell,
Truly underſtood, may not be great.
Aur.
The ſtranger does appear the braver.
Duk.
I fear Adraſtus. Sweet daughter, make tryall of your power,
To ſtay the Combat, 'tis an an office will become you.
Aur.
Moſt willingly. Sir, I beſeech you hold.
She pulls him, and he turning ſuddenly, her fear makes her fall; he offering to help her, Adraſtus comes behind; but he recovering himſelf, laies Adraſtus at his feet.
Phil.
Traitor, this baſeneſſe will expreſſe thee.
Aur.
Hold, Sir, I adjure you by her whom you
Beſt love, give me his life.
Phil.
Let him confeſſe the wrong he has baſely
Done to me, and her whom you adjure me
By; and he ſhall live by your command,
Though far unworthy to be ſo obliged.
Adr.
I am dead elſe, I do, or any thing.
Phil.
Live then, to be more miſerable then death could make thee.
Duk.
Be carefull of Adraſtus, but ſee this ſtranger
Receive no injury, from any of Adraſtus friends.
Though ye have fought with one that we love dearly,
Yet, I ſo much admire your courteſie
And valour, that I ſhould think my Court
Much honoured by your ſtay.
Floriſh.
Adr.
Friends, if you love me or my fortunes, revenge me,
The way I leave to your diſcretion.
Friends.
Enough, wee'l die or doot',
Notwithſtanding the Dukes command.
Ex. omnes
Finis Actûs ſecundi.
Actus tertius.
Enter Lucinda and Linda.
Luc.
LIghted that arm'd Knight that rid faſt by, at that little houſe?
Lin.
Hee did Maddam, this fine day hath tempt you
To walke further then you think: they ſay there's often
Robberies done in this wood.
Luc.
Alas poore wench art afraid.
Enter Adraſtus, Friends.
Luc.
What are theſe that make this haſte.
Oh Maddam, theeves I feare.
1.
Saw you a Knight ride by here, dear Lady iſt you
Luc.
Well met ſir, yes I ſaw him, how does my brother?
Oh ſpeak, I long to know, I dreamt of him to night.
1.
Maddam I fear your brother is no more.
Luc.
Ha? dead? Oh ſpeak it not, for I ſhall bear him companie.
1.
Rather ſhew us which way that Knight went, the Author of his death.
That ſo we may revenge his murther.
Luc.
Oh heavens, murder'd? yet you are juſt ye powers
That makes me thus the inſtrument of his revenge.
I will not waſh this hand kercher in womaniſh teares,
But firſt in the murderers blood, then clenſe it againe
With tears for my dear Brother.
2.
But Maddam, which way went he?
Luc.
Ile bring you where you cannot miſſe him, tis
Not long ſince I ſaw him enter a little houſe.
As we came walking hither.
Enter an old man, and an old woman.
Wom.
Now his wounds are dreſt, hee ſleeps ſoundly.
Man.
Alas good gentleman, he takes our poore entertainment kindly.
He ſaid at firſt he would come hither when he went to fight.
Wom.
I wonder his man that dreſt him, ſtaies ſo long.
Enter Lucinda, Linda, and friends.
'Tis not far to the next Town.
O Man.
What are theſe? theeves?
1.
Stop their mouths, he ſleeps, ſhal I ſtrike him dead?
Luc.
No let me ſee the Murderer firſt, ſure he looks ugly.
You need not kill him, let the law ſeiſe on him.
2.
Maddam I would not have him wake, hee's ſtout.
'Twil not be in our powers to compell him.
By all the gods, 'tis Philanthus, but he ſhall die.
Luc.
Stay—it muſt be by my hand, no other.
I am moſt injur'd, and ſo moſt intereſted in the revenge.
1.
Alas you are not able.
Luc.
Leave it to me, or elſe by all that's ſacred:
Ile lay you open to the Law give me your Dagger:
Retire and leave me.
1.
Alas Maddam you.
Luc.
Are you ſuch fooles, not to be content
To have a dangerous enterpriſe effected, and your ſelves
Freed from danger of the Law, none will ſupect me.
2.
Maddam, if he ſhould wake.
Luc.
Stay you without, and if you hear me call
For help: come in, not, otherwiſe.
1.
We dare not diſobey you, her own great ſpirit
And the much love ſhe beares her brother, makes her,
Forget her ſex.
1.
But we ſhall loſe your thanks, ſince ſhe performs it.
2.
Not a whit, he ſhall not know it for us, how ere
Shee's a witneſs of our zeal to doo't; and we are free
From danger of the Law, if ever the deed be known.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
'Tis done, away, he welters in his blood, leave all to me.
2.
But what for theſe?
Luc.
Fie, no, 'tis unneceſſary, by giving Gold,
Ile make them ſpeechleſs ever, but now I better
Think, beare them into ſome wood and bind them
But hurt them not.
1.
Maddam, 'tis poſſible, your brother may not yet b
•
dead.
How ere this act will pleaſe him much.
Lu.
Not dead? this may be malice, then if it be known,
I'le Juſtifie the Act, if not the thanks and recompence
Be you from him. Ile ſend, and know the truth of all.
Lin.
Oh Maddam I never thought you could have done a wickedneſſe like this.
The wounds which you have given will ſtrike
Your own ſoul deep one day.
Lin.
Oh fool the wounds I have received are far more dangerous,
Then thoſe that I have given.
Lin.
Maddam your own hand's cutt.
Luc.
'Tis ſo, all the blood thou ſeeſt came only from thence.
Let me with better leaſure looke on what I have preſerv'd.
His travell makes him ſleep ſound.
Lin.
Madam, how bleſt were you to change your cruel reſolution.
Some Angell prompted you to ſave him from thoſe
Murderers, by ſeeming, as if you did your ſelfe intend to be one.
Luc.
There was no other way; but the good angell
That prompted me, was Love; 'twas ſtrange I ſhould
Be taken by a ſleeping man, that have from all eyes
That have ſeen me, almoſt baniſhed ſleep,
To think upon my beauty, which muſt be now
My part for him; for, I have loſt my ſelfe
By ſaving him, ſince I am ſiſter to his enemy.
Yet, he may love like me, when he intends revenge:
But ſhall I be ſo lovely when I ſleep, and he behold
Some ſtand ready to murder me, ſo making
Pitty uſher love into his heart, as into mine?
For all waies elſe have been before attempted
To make me amorous, none prevailed: Oh no,
It cannot be, he ſtirrs, away.
I muſt do ſomething,
What, I cannot tell:
Who loves, and dares not ſay, he lives in hell.
Exeunt.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
Miranthe, have you known valour, and ſo little courteſie,
meet in the perſon of one man ſo fully,
As in this Knight that overcame Adraſtus?
Mir.
Madam, his valour did appear to all,
But wherein he behaved himſelfe diſcourteouſly,
I am yet to learn.
Aur.
What Knight but he, would have refuſed to ſtay
Their Combat, when I, a Princeſſe,
Not to be contemn'd, beſought him?
Mir.
Oh, Madam, how unjuſt you are, ſince you accuſe him
In that, wherein you ought to thank him?
You ſaw, when through your fear you fell, he turn'd
To take you up, by which he did receive
A wound, I feat too mortall, by that moſt baſe
Adraſtus; and if he had given o're the Combat
Afterward, when you deſired, his enterpriſe
Had been moſt vain from the beginning:
Adraſtus had not then confeſt, that you or any
Might have heard, the lies he had invented.
But Philanthus is moſt unfortunate, to have
His beſt deſervings ſtill miſinterpreted.
Aur.
How! was't Philanthus that fought? me thought indeed,
The voice was his▪ but he being thought ſo far off,
Kept me from being certain.
Mir.
It ſcap'd my tongue before I was aware,
Now I muſt make it good. Yes, Madam, it was Philanthus,
To whom I did give notice in a Letter,
How much Adraſtus injured you and him,
By ſaying, Philanthus boaſted of the great love
You bare him, in every place, and that you partly did
Believe, he ſpake but truth, which was the cauſe
Of your diſpleaſure.
Aur.
Is't then Philanthus hath done me this diſpleaſure?
Durſt he put my honour on the hazzard of fortune?
Durſt he capitulate and make conditions,
When I did beg Adraſtus life? am I ſo miſerable,
That I was gladder to receive, then he to give
What I did ask?
Mir.
Oh poor Philanthus, how happy art thou, if the wound
Thou didſt receave, helping her up, have freed
Thee from thoſe greater torments, which her cruelty
Prepares, in recompence of all thy faithfull ſervices.
But, Madam when I think on't, did not you ſay,
He was to right himſelfe with his ſword, if he knew
No other remedy; and with more ſecrecy, or more
Diſcretion, it was to bar the action, all
Thinking Philanthus to be far hence,
Even when he drew their eyes to wonder at his valour.
Aur.
Peace, no more of him, you praiſe him without cauſe.
Mir.
Without cauſe?
When as his death, caus'd by your cruelty,
More then his wounds, ſhall make the world know,
'Twas he that overcame Adraſtus, and for your ſake,
As well as for his own. How will the vertuous
People tax you, of your great injuſtice?
Aur.
I muſt confeſſe, I ſhould be very ſorry his death
Should give the world a knowledge of my follies.
Mir.
Be not you cruell to him, and prevent it.
Aur.
Nay, let him love himſelf, and ſave me a labour.
Mir.
Madam, he cannot love that, which he thinks you hate.
Aur.
Hee's neither worthy of my hate nor love.
Mir.
Madam, 'tis impoſſible there ſhould be that indifferency
Towards Philanthes, whom you muſt either love,
Or hate extreamly.
Enter Agenor.
Aur.
Well then, I do not hate him, my brother; upon your life
Let him not know, that I do know the ſtranger was
Philanthus. Miranthe, ſeek not to excuſe him, hee's a moſt
Diſcourteous Knight, and I do hate him deadly.
Age.
Who's that ſhee ſpeaks of?
Mir.
The ſtranger-Knight.
Age.
Believe me, fiſter, you had no reaſon.
Aur.
Well, Sir, I know mine own reaſons beſt.
Age.
But, ſiſter, when you hear mine, which are ſtronger,
You'l be of another minde.
Aur.
You may as ſoon perſwade the fixed Starrs
To move, as me from my opinion. 'Twas ſure
Some inchantment that overcame Adraſtus.
Age.
Then you'l abandon reaſon quite, this truely ſhowes,
You women think your foes your friends, your friends your foes.
Exeunt.
Enter Philanthus, and Lucinda's Servants.
Phil.
Villains, for what reſpect is't, that you do preſerve
Me longer, to torment me? why did you not rather
Kill me, when you found me ſleeping firſt?
Ser.
'Twas not in our commiſſion, you are reſerved to feel
A thouſand torments, to which death is a pleaſure.
Phil.
From what perſon living have I deſerved ſuch uſage?
Ser.
I'le let you know your miſery, the more to torment you.
Know, that we are ſervants to a Lady, the moſt malitious
And deformed, that ever lived; ſo great
An enemy to vertue, that 'tis her onely ſtudy
To deſtroy thoſe men in whom it doth inhabit.
Her vigilancy for miſchiefe is ever buſie.
It ſeemes ſhe hath found you out to wreak her ſpight upon,
Intending here to keep you ever, except ſhe ſhall
Prove mercifull, and kill you.
Phil.
If her hate to me onely proceed from a beliefe,
That I am vertuous, it ſeems ſhe knowes me not,
I am not ſuch. But if thou beeſt a gentle villain,
Tell me, where I am.
Ser.
Far from the houſe, in which we found you ſleeding,
And now in the moſt loathed Priſon, that ever eyes
Beheld, if eyes can be of uſe in ſo much darkneſſe;
Your chiefeſt companions muſt be Toads, Snakes,
And Froggs, except two villains ſometimes, as now, ready ſtand,
To inflict torments, that cannot be expreſt.
Phil.
Oh that I could but ſee, and were unloos'd, that with my fiſt
I might reward thee for this kinde relation.
Ser.
Screech Owles and Ravens, ſhall fill thy ears continually
With diſmall ſounds. Hark.
Recorders.
Phil.
Sure ſome power, pittying the miſery that I muſt ſuffer,
Gives me this farewell to all happineſſe.
Ser.
Now begins your torments, but that they may be more
Senſible, let him ſee him his miſery.
they unvail him.
Phil.
Amazment ſeizes me, is this a loathed Priſon?
Or this the harſh and diſmall notes of wicked birds?
Or look theſe men as they would ſtab, rather adore me.
What do I fool my ſelfe, this is a dream.
I am ſure aſleep.
Ser.
Propoſe your wiſhes, and we are ready to effect them,
As far as lies in human power.
Phil.
This is no dream, I am awake, this is my hand,
And theſe my hairs, I feel pain, now I pull them.
Sure 'tis a viſion, or worſe inchantment; the wicked Miſtreſſe
Of this houſe, to all her other ills, is certainly a witch.
Enter Lucinda.
I am confirmed 'tis ſo, for here ſhe comes,
Changed in a form equall to Aurelia, and far more
Gently does ſhe look upon me, than ſhe did at our parting.
Luc.
Sir, you are welcome, if there be defect in any thing,
It comes from negligence of ſervants, not from my will.
A valiant Knight, and flie thus from a Lady!
Phil.
What ſhould I fear, ſhe cannot hurt my mind
With all her art, how ere ſhe may my perſon.
Beſides, ſhee'l change her form, and look before ſhe do me ill.
This ſhape can nought produce, that can offend.
Luc,
Pray you ſir, ſit.
Phil.
I will.
Luc.
Not ſo far off, if you pleaſe.
Phil.
You think I fear.
Luc.
No, Sir; but I perceive, you are not confident of what you ſee.
Sir, recollect your ſelf; for what you heard
Before from theſe, was but what I directed,
With an intent indeed, to ſet off, as with a foil,
This mean but hearty entertainment.
Phil.
I dare not truſt you, you ſpeak too well,
To mean well, ſince I am a ſtranger,
And no way have deſerved theſe favours.
Ser.
My Lady, Sir, hath told you truth.
Luc.
Save your pains, leave us, I'le clear his underſtanding.
Exeunt Servants.
Phil.
The danger now approches, if ſhe be a witch.
Wickedneſſe deſires no witneſſe.
Luc.
Sir, if ere you lov'd, which yet I wiſh you had not,
Then the diſcourſe I am to make, will with more eaſe
Approach your underſtanding, and ſoon gain belief.
I am a Lady as you ſee, not much deform'd;
The Servants and the ſtuff here are not borrowed,
Nor will it hurt my ſtate thus daily to entertain
Such, as I make my friends; and ſuch my birth is,
As bids me live thus without tax of pride.
I am mine own diſpoſer, no Parents to blame
My diſobedience, though my choice ſhould only
Pleaſe my ſelfe: They live not, or if they did,
My fortune was not wholly left by them.
Phil.
You are in a happy ſtate, ſince you have power
To make ſome noble ſpirit fortunate, and you in him.
Sure ſhe is really what ſhe relates.
Luc.
I might have been moſt happy, if my unlucky Starrs
Had not in one particular croſt me.
Phil.
Your courteſie obliges me, to ask you wherein?
I vow ſhe weeps, the tears, like Orientall Pearls,
Drop from her eyes making a path down
Her moſt lovely cheeks, that may direct the looker on,
If loſt in wonder, as I am, to finde the way
Back to thoſe heavenly ſprings, from whence all treaſure
Flowes, rich above Tagus, or what poets ever fain'd.
Speak, gentle Lady, why this ſorrow?
Luc.
They are not tears of ſorrow, but of anger,
To ſee my liberty thus loſt, that liberty,
Which I have ſo much priſed, as ſome have thought
There was juſt cauſe to think me proud, and then to lay
My ſelfe and all my fortunes, even at mine enemies feet.
Oh miſery, have I not cauſe, think you, to weep,
And curſe my cruell Stars, that force me to do this?
Phil.
I muſt confeſſe, 'tis a hard fate for to be ſubject
To ones enemy: But ſure your merits have the power to turn
That enmity to friendſhip, if you pleaſe.
Be plain, and let me know your meaning;
And, with the hazard of my life, I'le ſerve you.
Luc.
Then thus: I hated you above all creature living,
The cauſe ſeek not to know, for 'tis impoſſible; nay came
With an intent to ſee you murder'd; but when I ſaw you
Though you then ſlept, the graces all, me-thought,
Dwelt in you face, and ſo protected you from harm;
That I that came with all that malice, became
Your ſole preſerver, and not content with that, ſtreight way
I made you abſolute commander of me and mine.
Phil.
You amaze me.
Luc.
But not intending that you e're ſhould know me,
Nor the place of my abode, if you return'd not love,
I made my ſervants bring you thus blind fold
Hither, leſt you might boaſt my love hereafter.
Phil.
Madam, 'tis a moſt ſtrange diſcourſe that you have made,
And yet you ſo deliver it, that I muſt think it
Truth; but what to anſwer, I am ignorant.
'Tis beſt I ſhould be plain, ſince you deſire to be ſo.
Then muſt you know, that my unhappy Starrs
Make me uncapable to receive the unequall treaſure,
Which you offer in your rich ſelfe. A Lady, like your ſelfe,
To ſay more fair, were falſe, hath long ſince rob'd
Me of the power, to be my own diſpoſer.
Luc.
I fear'd indeed, that ſo much worth as you are Maſter of,
Could not be undiſpos'd of, ſince where's that woman
Would not uſe her utmoſt art, to gain a ſervant,
That ſhe might ſo juſtly glory in. I deſire to know
Her name yet, that I may pay her beauty and her wiſdome,
That reſpect it merits, for loving you.
Phil.
Madam, I muſt not; but, truſt me, ſhee's too wiſe to love
Me ſtill, for ſhe hath found me now of late, much 'much
Defective; but I do hope, my conſtancy will
Make ſupply; for, I vow, my affection and my life have
But one date.
Luc.
Say you ſo, this proteſtation hath much leſſened
The opinion I held of your worth: Perhaps you ſay
This, to avoid my importunity, which I do too much
Apprehend. I am no raviſher; may be, when you ſhall ſee
Some greedily purſue what you do, with ſuch ſcorn, refuſe,
And thoſe perhaps your equalls, you'l finde too late,
You fondly have purſued your miſery, and fled
From a great happineſſe, and begin to make you
Feel your folly▪ I'le tie you to this hard condition,
As I believe you will account it.
Phil.
What is't, Lady? there's but one womans threatning,
That can affright me.
Luc.
Say you ſo, I'le try that; tell me that womans name,
The place of her abode, or by my hopes of happineſſe,
I'le make you the moſt miſerable man alive;
For, you ſhall never ſee again, what you ſo cov
••
enjoy.
Phil.
You are witty in your anger, this is no ef
•••…
of that great love,
That you profeſt; it may be, time will make me
Better know your worth. Me-thinks you look m
•…
lovely
Then you did, though at the firſt fair.
Luc.
Oh Sir, do you begin to flatter: Her name, name,
And with it, liberty; if you deny, to priſon.
Phil.
No other way.
Luc.
None, as I live; can you expect from me, the injur'd,
Any favour? Could I invent a way more to afflict y
••
You ſhould be ſure to feel it.
Phil.
What ſhall I do? the choice is hard:
How can this any way advantage you?
Luc.
If ſhe be more deſerving than my ſelfe,
I ſhall not then repine to be refuſed; if leſſe,
Contemn you for your folly; and do not fear,
That I will make another partner of
The ſecret, which may be troubles you.
Phil.
If I have not loſt it, I am happy; read the direction of this Letter.
Luc.
Let's ſee't.
Phil.
Aurelia made me ſo direct my Letters, ſo
••…
deceive,
If any by misfortune ſhould be ſeen.
Luc.
To the fair hands of the moſt admired Lucinda.
How's this? he muſt not ſee my bluſhing, this cannot be.
It may; How? I am tranſported betwixt joy and fear?
Swear by the gods, Lucinda is the creature you moſt affect.
Phil.
There's no help, ſhee's too wiſe to be deceived.
Luc.
Come, ſwear.
Phil.
By Aurelia's ſelfe, the greateſt oath, I lvoe no other then Aurelia.
Luc.
All my hopes thus again vaniſht. You are free,
Enter Servants.
And I the moſt unfortunate. Sir, you muſt be contented,
They bear you back as you came hither; and think,
What you have ſeen or heard, was but a dream.
Exit.
Phil.
Thus I refuſe, cruell Aurelia, for thy ſake,
A beauty, that the powerfull gods might rivalls make.
Ser.
Sir, we muſt bear you many leagues hence.
Phil.
Even where you pleaſe.
Exeunt.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
He's ſtark mad, with the conceit of his Favourits place.
2.
You'l ne're make him know himſelfe.
1.
The better: you ſee, he makes good ſport at Court.
2,
Take heed, it may be there are ſome that do believe, you brought him to mock them.
1.
If there be any there ſo ſimple to believe that, then I have perſonated thoſe I know not of, & I am glad on't
2.
I, but to touch upon the name or actions of a Favourit, may bear equall danger with thoſe of Princes.
1.
If this fool Favourit of ours do trouble any other, tell them, that Jewells receive their luſtre from a foyl; if then not ſatisfied, they're neer a kin to him in judgment, and envious to me; yet, I forgive them, knowing their malice cannot hurt my innocence, who rather wiſh to receive an injury my ſelfe, then touch at any, whoſe fooling is not their greateſt merit; I mean,
their onely hope of riſing. Here comes our Gallant.
Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Y. G.
Tell my Lords man, I am wondrous buſie, and cannot ſpeak with him theſe two hours.
Man,
I will, an't pleaſe your honour. He's ſtark mad, but I muſt humour him.
2.
What Lord's man?
1.
There's none to ſpeak with him, 'tis his fancy.
Y. G.
In good faith, Sir, I cannot do't for you.
Man.
I am very ſorry for't.
Y. G.
I muſt not waſte my ſtock of favour, on ſo unreaſonable buſineſſes. Greater profit. I, ye ſay true; I know it will be the greater profit: But, Sir, 'twill likewiſe raiſe much envy againſt me, and I am not very well ſetled; the great men apprehend the danger of my riſing, and ſtudy how to give a ſtop to all my hopes.
Man.
Very like, Sir.
Y. G.
Oh, Sir, aſſure your ſelfe, in any other thing I ſhall be ready to ſerve you. Farewell, noble Sir.
Man.
Now I muſt go.
Y. G.
Pox o'this coxcomb, why does he trouble me? Yet, 'tis good policy to ſpeak him fair to his face, I may have uſe of him. Pleaſe your grace, this is a friend of mine, a deſerving man.
Man.
Alas, Sir.
Y. G.
I humbly thank your grace. Your ſuit is granted.
Man.
Is it?
Y. G.
But with great difficulty. Sir, this mans ſuit is moſt impertinent, himſelf an idle, ill natur'd, and ſeditious fellow; I have known him long. Away, y'are ſawcy. Madam, your husband ſhall have the place, I vow 'tis for your ſake onely. Command you? no, Madam: I'le wait on you at your lodging, ſweet Madam.
Gentlemen, you muſt pardon me, I cannot hear you now, you ſee his grace hath ſent for me in haſte, pray tell him that I come. You are importunate, Get the Coach there hoe.
Man.
Yes, Sir.
Exeunt.
2.
This is direct madneſſe, and yet he ſpeaks more ſenſe, than ere he did in his life, but that he ſpeaks to no body.
1.
Nay, th'Aſs is ſtrangely mixt; ſometimes he will have ſtarts of wit, that would almoſt couſen a man.
2.
He would paſſe for a very accompliſhed Gentleman amongſt ſome women; but that his hoping to be a Favourit diſcovers him.
Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Y. G.
Slave, not my Coach ready?
2.
What, the ſcene's chang'd now, the Lady is Sprat again.
Y. G.
My Coach, thou cur.
Man.
How many horſes, Sir?
Y. G.
Six, thou peaſant.
Man.
An't pleaſe your honour, will not Cut, and your father's dung-Cart ſerve to day, I'le be the Coachman.
Y. G.
Be dumb, thou traitor, doſt thou not know, Obedience, not advice, belongs to ſervants; but I will teach thee how to be malepert, thou Brock.
1.
Nay, Sir, for this time let me beg his pardon; beſides, Sir, ſpend not your rage ſo poorly. Hark you, Sir.
Y. G.
How?
1.
It muſt be ſo, your reputation is in danger elſe; a Favourit muſt be noble, of a great ſpirit, careleſſe of danger.
Y. G.
Why, Sir, then I am right; I care ſo little for
danger, I would ne're come near it; and if danger approach me, it had better keep farther off, it ſhall be ſure of cold entertainment.
1.
You are wiſe, Sir, I believe it.
Y. G.
Wiſe, I would have you know,
Ere all be done, the world ſhall think me ſo.
1.
I, Sir, we find the weight of it.
Exeunt
Finis Actûs tertii.
Actus quartus.
Enter Philanthus.
Phil.
HOW ſtrange a fortune have I run, ſince I did leave
The Court; but it moſt vexes me, to be ungratefull to
Her, that ſav'd my life, though not by love; yet there
Might be ſome other way to ſerve her, did I know
Her name. Why, ſure me thinks I'me free, ſince 'tis her will,
That barrs me from the means, to know her. I have
No comfort left, but in the faithfull friendſhip of the Prince.
His Siſter is become cruell, I fear unconſtant.
Adraſtus, how will he entertain me?
Enter Adraſtus.
Adr.
Ha, is't his ghoſt, or he himſelfe? he lives I my hopes are vain.
Phil.
What means he, he cannot ſuſpect 'twas I that overcame him.
Adr.
I muſt diſſemble. My deareſt friend, where have you been
Theſe many daies? How it joyes me to have you in theſe arms?
A Serpent or a Fury had been more welcome.
The Court, Sir, languiſhes in your abſence, and reaſon,
Wanting you, the luſtre of it.
Phil.
Rather in your ſickneſſe, Sir; Now you are well, it will recover quickly.
Adr.
You have heard, it ſeemes, of my dyſaſter.
Phil.
I heard, Fortune envying your worth, became your enemy.
But, was the Combat equall, had he no odds in Horſe nor Armes?
Adr.
Something there was in that, but my reſpect to the Princeſſe
Was moſt prejudiciall to me; yet ſince, ſhe hath
Requited me, with ſo much love and care of my health,
That I eſteem my ſelfe moſt happy to have received thoſe wounds
And with them, ſuch aſſurance of her affection.
Phil.
How's this?
Adr.
I'l vex his ſoul with jealouſie?
Phil.
It cannot be.
Adr.
If he accuſe me for theſe words, I'le combat him,
And ſo recover my honour loſt, or loſe my life.
'Twas fortune, not his valour, that o' recame me.
Phil.
Oh woman, woman, what art thou?
Adr.
Philanthus, what is't that troubles you? if any ſecret griefe,
Diſcover it to me, whom you may boldly truſt;
For I have told you, what to no other creature
Living I would diſcover, though wrack'd.
Phil.
I am wrack'd indeed.
Adr.
Come, ſpeak man, be free, my friendſhip to you does command it.
Phil.
I am of a ſudden ſick.
Adr.
And that's my caſe: How I could hug my ſelfe for this?
Phil.
Your pardon, Sir, I am not very well, I'le to my Chamber.
Adr.
Shall I wait on you?
Phil.
By no means.
Exit
Adr.
A fine excuſe, alaſſe poor ſhallow lover.
Fortune, why doſt thou thus aſſiſt an ignorant
Againſt me? Why ſhould ſhe love him, and neglect me
Thus, that am ſo much in Art his Maſter? he has a ſmoother face,
And more youth about him; th'Adamants,
That draw a giddy Lady. I ſee him comming back,
I do not like it; I'le make as if I did not ſee him.
Enter Philanthus.
Phil.
Friend. He goes away. Adraſtus.
Adr.
I cannot hear.
Exit.
Phil.
He will not hear. How baſe a wretched thing
Is a diſſembler of which Adraſtus is the chiefe.
With what a ſhew of love he entertain'd me,
As if his ſoul were joy'd at ſight of me;
When by the lie he did invent of me, and of the Princeſſe,
I know he hates me: What a madneſſe is it then in me,
To believe that, which he ſpoke of her love to him;
He's ſure too cunning to diſcover it, if it were true,
To me eſpecially. Child that I was, I now finde out his plot,
Suffering my paſſion to give him an aſſurance
Of my affection to Aurelia, which before
He onely could ſuſpect.—See the ſweet Prince.
Enter. Agenor.
Age.
Thou partner of my ſoul, where haſt thou been?
Phil.
Oh Sir, the ſtrangeſt fortune hath befalln me, ſince
I received your Letter, that ever man encountred,
Too long to be told you now. But how go matters at Court?
What ſay they of the ſtranger, I mean, of me?
Age.
My ſiſter moſt unjuſtly hates you, and no perſwaſions
Can as yet alter her, as y'are a ſtranger too.
I left her with a Gipſie and his daughter, who tells
The ſtrangeſt things that e're were heard; indeed he tels
You almoſt what you can deſire to know, mens fortunes paſt,
And, I think, that which is to come too, if he pleaſe:
Sure hee's really a Conjurer,
Phil.
I long to ſee and talk with this rare man,
But more your beautious ſiſter, if ſhe will dain
To caſt her heavenly eyes on ſo deſpis'd a ſubject.
Age.
Come, fear it not, time will pacifie that unjuſt anger,
That ſhe conceiv'd againſt you.
Phil.
I fear ſhe is unconſtant.
Age.
If ſhe love any other, nay, if ſhe love not Philanthus,
She's no more my ſiſter, but in name; a ſtranger
To my blood and my affection.
Phil.
I do fear, if there be any body by, they'l diſcover
By my diſtemper, the affection, which except to your dearſelfe,
I have from all concealed.
Age.
It ſhall be as you deſire it. Come, leave theſe down-caſt looks;
I could complain of my hard fate in love;
Here's a greater witneſſe of my Miſtreſſe ſcorn than ever,
She almoſt ſwears here never to love me;
There was ſome hope before, but I forget.
Each one in his owne cauſe is tedious,
Taxes an other that's guilty in the ſame.
Exeunt
Enter Aurelia, Adraſtus, Miranthe, Linda, and a Gipſie.
Aur.
Come, Sir, what can you ſay to this hand?
Gip.
You have been much in love, and there was cauſe
You ſhould be ſo, your ſervant was moſt worthy.
But you of late have been unkinde, perhaps
You love another; I can, but will not tell you at this time.
Au.
This is partly truth. Shew him your hand.
Mir.
I defie him to tell any thing of me.
Gip.
Y'are a good dull ſoul, you neither think of love nor hate;
To wait upon your Lady is all your pleaſure.
Aur.
In troth 'tis true.
Lind.
Pray, Sir, look on mine.
Gip.
Y'are wondrous amorous, and have already chang'd
Three Servants, the better for the worſe ſtill.
Aur.
Upon my knowledge, Sir, you have told moſt certain truth.
Enter Agenor.
Age.
'Save yee, ſiſter. Can this man tell any thing?
Sir, ſhew your skill on me, but to my ſelfe;
I would not have them heare what you conjecture:
More I know you cannot of no mans fortune.
Gip.
You'l ſtraight believe the contrary, your hand's
So eaſie, that I could almoſt tell every particular
Of your whole life; at leaſt, your paſſages
Of love, which is the skill that I profeſſe.
Age.
Let's hear.
Aur.
Adraſtus, hath he ſeen your hand yet?
Adr.
No, Madam, 'tis to no purpoſe, he can tell nothing.
Aur.
I am not of your minde. It ſeemes my brother
Will not have us know his fortune.
Gip.
You were in love at ſeven years old, as much as that age
Could admit, and have continued the moſt conſtant living,
Upon the ſmalleſt hopes; and 'tis not long ſince
You received a great diſcouragment, yet ſtill you love,
And much I fear in vain.
Age.
'Tis true, this makes me admire your skill.
Gip.
You are as true a friend, as y'are a lover too,
And you in that will be unfortunate.
Age.
It is impoſſible.
Gip.
I may fail, but I ſpeak according to my art.
Adr.
What think you of him?
Age.
I think him a rare man.
Adr.
I'le ſee if he can make me think him ſo.
Now, Sir, ſhall I intreat you to ſhew your skill.
Gip.
You will not have me ſpeak aloud.
Adr.
Why not aloud?
Gip.
I will not; you have been a lover more then once, and ſtill
Unfortunate; firſt, by your own unconſtancy, your quarells
Too, have been no advancement to your reputation lately;
And more diſgraces ſhall light on you, till you return
Unto your firſt affection: the gods are much diſpleaſed.
Be good, and reconcile your ſelfe to heaven.
Adr.
A ſtrange fellow, but I'le ſeem to contemn him.
The moſt ignorant might have told what he tells me,
Of which number I believe him one.
Gip.
Say you ſo, pray let me ſee your hand once more.
Adr.
Well, Sir.
Gip.
Your own arme being too weak to defend you againſt your enemy,
I finde, you baſely have employed the armes of others.
Adr.
Ha!
Gip.
I finde ſomething like a murder written in this Line.
Adr.
This fellow is a devill; beſides, I ſee my falſhood does not thrive.
Aur.
What ſaies he to you?
Adr.
He is indeed a rare man, and I recant,
And much eſteem him and his skill.
Age.
I ſee he has told you things that pleaſe you.
Adr.
He has ſo.
Exit.
Age.
Siſter, if you love me.
Aur.
Well, you know I can deny you nothing; I would not ſee him elſe.
How I long to ſpeak with him, yet I'le torment him too.
It troubles me to think, my brother divides
The channell of his love, which elſe would wholly
Run in one continued ſtream to me.
Enter Agenor.
I eſteem you learned above all thoſe I ever ſaw or heard of.
This evening, Sir, wee'l talk at better leaſure.
Now I deſire all to retire and leave me.
Exeunt Gipſie, and Maids.
Now, brother, where is Philanthus?
Age.
Friend.
Enter Philanthus.
Phil.
How I tremble: Were I to enter Combat againſt a Lion,
Nay, againſt an Hoſte of men, me-thinks I ſhould not
Be thus fearfull. I know, 'tis not my part
To play the paſſionate Lover, ſhee'l laugh at me.
But I have loſt that power I had over my paſſion,
By her unkindneſſe, nor can I hide the ſorrows of my heart.
ſhe offers to go away.
Age.
Whither, ſiſter, did not you promiſe to hear him?
Aur.
Whom?
Age.
Philanthus.
Aur.
Yes, but I ſee nothing but a ſtatue, there's neither
Sound nor motion comes from that.
Phil.
It is your cruelty that hath transform'd me then.
Dear Madam, tell me, from what can grow this alteration?
If any falſe report have done it, 'tis great injuſtice
To believe an enemy wronging a friend, and not
To hear that friend firſt anſwer for himſelfe.
Aur.
Philanthus, I do not complain at all, why do you go about
To juſtifie your ſelfe, before you be accuſed?
Phil.
Madam, why am I then baniſhed from
Your preſence, and your favour?
Aur.
'Twas your occaſion drew you from the Court,
For ought I know; and for my favour, I never
Doated on you, nor do I hate you now.
Age.
Yet, ſiſter, this cold anſwer does not become
That love, which you, on my knowledge, deſir'd,
That he ſhould think you bear him.
Aur.
Brother, I muſt acknowledge, that I love and honour Philanthus merits;
But yet, I take it, I never ſo far did engage my ſelfe,
As not to be my own diſpoſer; and you too far
Intereſt your ſelfe, in being more a friend to him than me.
Age.
As how?
Aur
You blind my judgment, which ſhould wholly direct me in my choice:
For he whom you commend of reaſonable parts,
Muſt from me gain reſpect above the beſt deſerver.
And much I wonder, that Philanthus will call in queſtion
His own merits, for ſo he does in my opinion, to uſe you,
As a ſecundary means, ſince if he be a man deſerves my love,
I hope he thinks, that I have wit to know it.
Phil.
Madam, 'twere ignorance in me, or any other, to plead other
Deſert, than readineſſe to obey; and fortune enviouſly
To me, hath ſtill denyed ſuch an occaſion, as might let you ſee,
The greateſt danger ſhould to me ſeem none,
Where I might hope to do you any ſervice.
Aur.
Your promiſes are large, and I may perhaps
Meet with employment.
Phil.
Madam, if ſo, I ſhall beleeve my ſelfe moſt happy.
Age.
Well, dear ſiſter, uſe him kindly.
Aur.
Brother, you did deſire, that I ſhould give him hearing,
None by but you: I will exceed that favour,
And wiſh to enjoy his company alone; pray leave us.
Age.
Moſt willingly.
Exit.
Aur.
You may ſtay, Sir, if you pleaſe, except you fear
To be alone with me.
Phil.
Madam, why fear, what danger?
Aur.
More then you think, I muſt impart a buſineſſe to you
In which I ſhall make tryal of
The great love that you profeſſe.
Phil.
I am bleſt, if you be ſerious; though I ſhould
Periſh in what you employ me, I muſt
Account my end moſt fortunate.
Aur.
You muſt ſwear to perform what I enjoyne you,
According to your power.
Phil.
Madam, I vow't, if it be not againſt mine honour.
I value you above my life, but leſſe then that.
Aur.
Well.
Phil.
One exception more, and then be what it will.
Aur.
What's that?
Phil.
Not to command me to ceaſe to love you.
Aur.
Oh! fear it not; and yet I will not promiſe to love you,
Not when you have performed, what I ſhall now enjoyne;
Yet, I confeſſe, the ſervice will be moſt acceptable:
Nor muſt you make my Brother, though your deareſt friend,
Partaker of the ſecret.
Phil.
That's worſt of all.
Aur.
Swear.
Phil.
I do.
Aur.
Then know, that I do hate that Knight, that overcame Adraſtus,
More then I love my beauty or my health.
Phil.
How?
Aur.
This cannot chuſe but pinch him. And do enjoyne you
By your oath, to find him out, and ſo deliver him into my hands,
That I may have ſtill power to puniſh him as I think fit.
Phil.
And, Madam, wherefore do you hate him? I heard,
His actions did not deſerve it.
Aur.
For his diſcourteſie, and neglect of me.
Phil.
Know you of what Country he is?
Aur.
No.
Phil.
Oh, Madam, I finde your plot, you know you ſhall
Still be importuned by my love, which will
Not give me leave, to let you live in peace;
And therefore you have ſet me on this uſeleſſe task.
You are witty in your cruelty.
Aur.
Not onely ſo, for I deſire to be reveng'd upon that Knight.
Phil.
Will't content you if I kill him?
Aur.
No, his puniſhment I reſerve unto my ſelf,
The way to bring him hither, to your own diſcretion;
By force, or by entreaty, as you pleaſe. And ſo I leave you.
Think on your oath, remember too I promiſe no reward.
Phil.
Nor may I hope one neither.
Aur.
You are your own diſpoſer.
Phil.
At leaſt allow me this encouragement.
Why ſhould I ſtrive to pleaſe this ſcornfull ſhe, that hates me;
Nay, hates me, when I do deſerve all love?
The beautious Lady of the Caſtle did not ſo.
Am I not by the gods thus puniſhed, for my ingratitude to her? yes.
Certainly, ſhe ſav'd my life: Her beauty is not much inferiour,
Her wit ſeemes equall; how e're, ſhe ought
To be eſteemed by me much more. But where's ſhe,
Or what is ſhe, I know not, onely
I feel her growing here, here, in my heart.
flouriſh
Enter Duke, Agenor, Aurelia, Courtiers.
Duk.
This cuſtome ſhall no longer be of uſe;
The laſt Combat was granted, it ſeemes,
Hath drawn on this.
Age.
Your Court will be diſhonoured by the refuſall.
Shall it be ſaid, You protect thoſe, who do wrong
To others, when the guilt perhaps makes them
Too feeble to defend themſelves.
Duk.
Well be it as you will, I am innocent
Of any blood, that ſhall this day be ſhed.
Age.
Let the Knight enter.
Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Duk.
How, Gudgen my favourit? nay, then there's no great danger: Meant you 'twas he? Which of the women will he challenge?
Aur.
Nay rather, how many men at all theſe weapons.
Y. G.
Speak your proſe firſt, and ſee you be not our before you begin your leggs.
Man.
No, I warrant you, Sir, I'le make my
〈…〉
rences very ſweetly.
Age,
Something long a beginning.
Y. G.
Take heed your tongue do not diſcover you.
Man.
No, nor my tail neither, I warrant you, as
〈◊〉
tell it.
Y. G.
Remember, born a great way off.
Man.
I, I, and not chriſtened; for you are a T
••…
you know.
Aur.
Now he begins.
Man.
Moſt doughty Duke. Maſter, what muſt I call you?
Y. G.
Coxcomb.
Man.
Oh!
Y. G.
Shouldſt not name me.
Man.
Moſt doughty Duke, my Maſter Coxcomb whom you ſee.
Y. G.
Oh ſlave.
Man.
Is come to Court, to ſhew his chivalry againſt.
Y. G.
Speak ſoftly.
Man.
Againſt ſpeak-ſoftly, ſervant to your grace.
Y. G.
Bernardo, ſervant to your grace, you fool.
Man.
Bernardo, ſervant to your grace, you fool whom if he be within this diſmall place, I him defie throwing the monſtrous lie into his ugly throat.
Age.
Good poetry.
Man.
And ſhould he come, I would not be ins coat:
For ſure my Maſter, who is come thus far,
Will kill him dead before he be aware.
I am his mouth, and I do tell you from him,
My Maſter, if he come, will ſoundly bum him.
Y. G.
Wooll a?
Man.
And therefore keep away, if you be wiſe,
Till I my Trumpet have forth-ſounded thrice.
Phil.
Me-thinks the Knight ſhould ſpeak for himſelfe.
Y. G.
I do not underſtand a word of your language.
Duk.
Hard luck, how far was your Knight born?
Y. G.
Be ſure you ſay far enough, they 'I know me elſe.
Man.
I warrant ye. Beyond the worlds end.
Age.
How many miles may that be?
Man.
Forty good miles, and more. His Father?
Y. G.
Peace, ſound again, I am in ſome fear.
Aur.
Hee'l learn to ſpeak anone.
Y. G.
It ſeemes the enemy dares not approach; if he do, I'le ſend him after thoſe ten Knights that I kill'd in Thrace, ſingly, man after man, though they aſſaulted me all at once.
Phil.
That's ſtrange.
Y. G.
I, at one blow, with this ruſty ſword, ruſty with being continually imbrued in blood of bruitiſh beaſts,
Man.
Indeed he kill'd a mad Bullock once.
Y. G.
Clove to the teeth a monſtrous high and mighty maſtiff Dog, of a Leminian Lion's hide.
Age.
A Cow's perhaps, his father was a Butcher.
Y. G.
Sound the third time. Not yet, how baſe is he, that dares do injurie, but much more baſe, that dares not juſtifie his wickedneſſe. Not yet?
Phil.
Now he ſpeaks plain.
Y. G.
I with this Gun have kill'd a monſtrous Wren.
Man.
He come! Hang him coward.
Y. G.
Oh that he durſt, then would I. What noiſe is that?
Man.
Nothing.
Y. G.
I thirſt for blood, if there be any here.
Aur.
To drink, would he have it?
Y. G.
That dare according to antient books, maintain the beauty of his Lady againſt mine. Since the enemy dare not appear, I muſt be in action.
Age.
Where's yours?
Flouriſt
Y. G.
My ſquire here ſhal be ſhe, my valour ſhal ſupply that which wants in beauty.
Duk.
None dares. I am weary of this fool.
Y. G.
Dare none encounter me, march quite away?
He's come, but 'tis too late, I ſcorn to ſtay.
Duk.
What did you come for?
Y. G.
I will tell you the ſecret, I did come hitherto no end,
And I do mean to depart to as little purpoſe.
Therefore like other Knights, that make a ſhow
In glittering Armour, as I came I go.
Exeunt Gudg. & his Man.
Phil.
Call him back again, hee's a rank coward.
Duk.
No, let him alone, I'me weary; beſides the day is far ſpent,
And we do loſe much better ſport; nor were it well
To have him ſo diſcouraged.
Aur.
Pray, Sir, let me enjoy your friend Gudgen's company ſometimes.
1. C.
Madam, I'le fit him the beſt I can to make you ſport.
Aur.
If Philanthus conceal from Agenor
What I enjoyn'd, he loves me more then him,
Which I ſhall much rejoyce in.
Age.
Is this your friendſhip?
Exeunt, manet Phil. & Age.
Phil.
Do not accuſe me, where I am not guilty.
The ſecret is not mine, that's truſted by another to me:
And when it does concern them more then me,
Yet ſo much I am touched, that I do burſt
With a deſire to tell you.
Age.
Why do you not?
Phil.
She bound me by an oath to the contrary, moſt cunningly;
For elſe, ſhe knew I would have told it, you.
Age.
Philanthus, I ſee ſhe hath wholly won you from me,
And I am glad you need not uſe my friendſhip further.
Which of you two to accuſe of moſt unkindneſſe,
I know not well. For me, I ſhould not have entertain'd
The knowledge of a ſecret, on a condition ſo prejudiciall
To our friendſhip.
Phil.
'T were great injuſtice in you, if't ſhould.
A perjur'd man would ill become your friendſhip.
Age.
You tell it to no man in telling me.
Phil.
Had not her tongue, her action did enjoyn me to keep it from your
Knowledge of all men; you ſaw, ſhe did deſire your abſence.
Age.
Perhaps ſhe fear'd to ſpeak before me, that which yet ſhe would
Be well content, that I ſhould know from you.
Phil.
If I have friendſhip, the knowledge of it, if you love me,
Would more afflict you, than my denyalls does.
Age.
Such an excuſe does worſt of all: farewell.
Phil.
Sure Aurelia ſo much hates me, that ſhe envies me
That happineſſe of her brothers friendſhip, and onely
Did invent this plot to break it. Stay, Sir, I'le give you proof
That I dare truſt you with a ſecret, and you will
Say, a ſtrange one though not this.
Age.
Well, what is't?
Phil.
I do not love your ſiſter.
Age.
How!
Phil.
No otherwiſe then as ſhe is your ſiſter.
Age.
This makes me more ſuſpect your friendſhip.
Phil.
Why ſhould you think I love her, ſince ſhe hates me,
And laies plots to deprive me of your friendſhip,
Which, by the gods, I priſe above what happineſſe
Women can bring me.
Age.
This proteſtation makes me think, you do not love indeed.
Phil.
Be not miſtaken, I do love.
Age.
Whom?
Phil.
Remember my paſt fortune with the beautious Lady
Of the Caſtle, and you will finde, that I have cauſe
To be a Lover, if only out of gratitude.
Your ſiſter's cruelty hath made my reaſon
Once more Maſter of my will; and being ſo;
I cannot chuſe, but ſee my former folly,
In hoping to enjoy ſo abſolute a creature
As Aurelia is, whom heaven ordaines
For one of greater merits; the gods had been
Indeed unjuſt, to make unworthy me the centre,
Where ſo much worthy loves ſhould meet, the leaſt
Of which, is ſure to make the beſt deſerver happy.
Age.
Philanthus, my friendſhip's of that nature, that it does
Glew me unto your deſignes; and ſince I ſee
My ſiſter hath given over to deſerve your love,
I muſt confeſſe, I think you could not place it with more reaſon,
Than on this Lady. 'Tis true, that I would have thee ſtill a Lover
Like my ſelfe, for ſo you'l hear me, and not laugh,
When I deplore my miſery in love; and I do glory,
To be found more conſtent than you are. The ſcorns
Of my Miſtreſſe have not altered me; I think
It vice to change, how ere ſhe uſes me.
Phil.
Rather 'tis vice not to change, when reaſon does command it.
Age.
Reaſon can never be your warrant to be falſe.
I had been falſe to reaſon and my ſelfe both,
To love where I ſhould finde neglect yet,
Where I love, 'tis with much paſſion, but
Not your blind-fold conſtant way.
Age
Nor would I that you ſhould. I ſhall be happy
In your happineſſe, or you in mine, if either
Of our different waies do proſper. But you
Now love you know not whom, nor know you where to finde her.
Phil.
Pardon me, the skilfull Moor, late come to Court,
Aſſures me, that he will let me ſee again
That Lady by his art.
Age.
When this?
Phil.
This morning I ſent my man before to tell him,
I am comming; his houſe is here hard by.
Age.
May I not ſee her too?
Phil.
Perhaps, if you diſguiſe you like my ſervant.
Age.
I will.
Phil.
Let's go then, I know he does expect me.
Exit.
Enter Moor, and a Servant.
Serv.
Sir, my Maſter will ſtreight be here.
Moor.
Sir, I am ready.
Enter Philanthus and Agenor.
Phil.
Great Maſter of your art, good-morrow.
Moor.
Good-morrow, noble Sir.
Phil.
I hardly yet believe it poſſible,
You ſhould perform what you have undertaken.
Moor.
More, Sir, if I pleaſe: I am in ſubſtance
What others ſeem; nor ſhall you ſtay
The making of a Circle. But who's this with you?
Phil.
A ſervant, Sir, that I dare truſt.
Moor.
Pardon me, Sir, I have reaſon to be wary.
This art is no waies lawfull; for telling fortunes,
That I count nothing. Is there nought elſe that you deſire?
Phil.
Nothing.
Moor.
Stand by then. By that great power that's given me,
Recorder.
I charge thee, the form of that Lady, to
Appear, that this Prince deſires, ſo habited,
As when he ſaw her laſt.
Enter Lucinda.
Phil.
Oh ye powers, 'tis ſhe. I muſt confeſſe, your art
Is inimitable, 'tis the ſame form; me-thinks
It looks ſo like the life, that it would ſpeak,
If I ſhould queſtion it: no beauty can be greater.
Shee's gone, can you not once more ſhew her.
Exit Luc:
Moor.
Yes, and much more, if I were pleas'd.
Phil.
What?
Moor.
What? ſit down and you ſhall ſee. Return thou beauteous ſhadow.
Enter Lucinda.
Phil.
She's by much fairer then Aurelia; I was a fool
To purſue what's fled, and to refuſe a bleſſing
Offered like this; ſhe ſmiles, as if ſhe underſtood me,
And confirm'd my ſaying.
Age.
Although I burſt, I'le ſee the end.
Phil.
When firſt I ſaw what's here preſented, I
could not think ſhe was the thing ſhe ſeem'd,
And now I cannot think ſhe is a ſhadow,
But a ſubſtance,—That ſigh aſſures me,
That ſhee's fleſh and blood; and yet a Daemon
May poſſeſſe a body, making it move by its own Organs.
A dead Body, not a living body: pardon, if ſhadow,
Or if ſubſtance, this bold touch; it is not profane,
Since it proceeds from an affection, equall
To what a mortall ere could boaſt of, in ſo ſhort a time.
This ſoft and warm hand does aſſure me, you are
That noble Lady, to whoſe courteſie I owe
My life, and now again it is within your power
To ſee me die. But if you ſhall once more, make me a tender
Of that love, which at your Caſtle I refus'd,
As being then a priſoner to anothers beauty.
Aſſure your ſelfe, I ſhall redeem that errour,
With an affection equall to your merits, paying the debt
Of two lives that I owe you, and this of love the greater.
Age.
Oh falſe friend.
Phil.
She anſwers not. I fear I all this while, tranſported
By my paſſion, have ſpoken to a ſhadow.
Luc.
Rather I fear your proteſtations will prove ſuch.
Age.
'Tis ſhe, and I am miſerable.
Phil.
Oh my joy. No, Madam, they are as firm as are the Poles,
Here the Gipſie pulls off his beard.
That prop up heaven; and can I doubt? the proofs
That you have given me of your love, are infinite,
In that you thus diſguiſe your ſelfe thus once more
T'ingage me in an infinite affection, which I deſire to ſeal thus.
Luc.
Will you not think you, recall your vowes,
When you ſhall know my name.
Age.
Cruell woman, thou needſt not tell him, he too well knowes
Thou art Lucinda; the unkind Miſtreſſe of his
Too kind, and much wronged friend Agenor.
Phil.
Lucinda, Oh my croſſe fortune, I am falſe and knew it not.
Age.
Excuſe it not, but juſtifie thy ſelf,
That I may kill thee without repining.
Phil.
You know I never ſaw ſaw her.
Age.
True. But was it poſſible thou couldſt believe,
That I could be tranſported with that paſſion
For any other beauty, then for that thou ſeeſt in her?
How often, raviſhed with admiration, did I deſcribe
Her face, and thought by love, like the muſt cunning Painter,
To draw her very feature to thy underſtanding,
All this while, after their ſwords are drawn, the Gipſie and the Lady perſwade and hold the Prince.
As they do to the ſight; ſo much at leaſt,
As if thou hadſt but been that friend,
Which I did hope, it would have prompted thee to fear
No other but Lucinda could have been ſo fair.
Phil.
Y'are paſſionate without all reaſon, and
Forget friendſhip. Hear me.
Age.
No, I am too tame, ſuffering thee, that haſt
Nothing, but the empty name of friendſhip,
Thus to abuſe me and ſhall that be a ſufficient
Bridle to hold back my revenge? Draw thy ſword.
Phil.
Why, you are mad.
Luc.
I fear ſome ill event.
Age.
Why ſmile you? Think you, becauſe my valour is not like to yours,
The ſubject of each tongue, my maiden-ſword,
Never unſheathed till now, that I do fear
In a juſt cauſe to uſe it? Provide your beſt defence.
Phil.
Defence, hear me.
Age.
Come, draw, and do not dally. Your guilt hath
Made you weaker then you think, you are not
What you were, when you were faithfull.
Luc.
If I have any power, let me conjure you.
Age.
You have none.
Here, ſhe breaks from the Gipſie.
Luc.
Hear me.—How do you noble Sir: Oh for a Chirurgeon
Age.
Ha! what have I done?
Phil.
'Tis in vain, I am well, well as I could have wiſh'd
I am remov'd from being a hinderance to
My friend in his affection. You perceive
How much he loves you, ſince it did force him
To make a ſacrifice of me, me, his better halfe.
Sir, give me your hand; it was my fortune, not my will,
That croſt you in this Ladies love. And, Madam,
Remember, that my laſt breath is employ'd,
To aſſure you, that I ſhall never reſt
In peace, if any other ſhall poſſeſſe that place,
Which you thought me worthy to hold, in your affection,
Then this Prince, who onely does deſerve it;
To whom, I hope, my weak defence, may juſtifie my innocence.
Luc.
Thou cruell murtherer of thy friend, who rather than
Endanger thee, would not defend himſelfe. Thou cruell Butcher.
Age.
I fear I have been too raſh.
He no way did employ his ſword.
Luc.
Oh cruell fate. Gon, he's gone for ever.
Age.
He's quite dead, and you are hurt too, I think. Ha!
Luc.
A ſcratch.
Age.
He did employ his laſt breath to gain my love,
From you too; did he not?
Luc.
He did, but 'tis in vain, for I ſhall hate thee more then a Serpent.
Age.
Yet leſſe then I ſhall do my curſed ſelfe,
The vildeſt monſter of ingratitude,
That the earth ever bore: I wonder why
It does not gape, and ſwallow me alive.
'Tis mockery to believe the gods are juſt,
After this ſufferance: Here, if you have any mercy, kill me.
Luc.
Not I.
Age.
I'le do't my ſelfe then.
Moor.
Hold, Sir, for heavens ſake.
Age.
Thou ignorant, 'twas to pleaſe heaven I would have done it.
Moor.
You are deceived, they want not proper inſtruments;
If 'twere their divine pleaſure to ſhed your blood,
To ſhew their juſtice: No they delight in mercy more.
Age.
But not ſo far as to confound their juſtice,
I am no ſubject for it.
Moor.
Madam, your help, to ſave another miſchief.
Luc.
Onely that thought makes you unfit, y'are penitent already;
And that I may remove from you this black deſpair,
That darkens thus your underſtanding, know,
For your friends dear ſake, if e're I love again,
It ſhall be you, except his memory.
Age.
Fain I would die, yet fain I would believe her.
Oh love! what power thou haſt, that thus can change
My juſt revenge; although I know this proteſtation
Growes from a fear to offend his ghoſt, and not
From love to me, for that's impoſſible:
Yet, I will live, to inflict ſuch puniſhment
Upon my ſelfe, that you ſhall give me leave to die,
To end my miſery. The Tombe I will erect
For this dear Coarſe, ſhall well expreſſe my love,
Howe're, my unfortunate hand did ſhed his blood.
Let your care be beſtowed upon the body,
Till I diſpoſe of it; I ſhall reward your pain.
Moor.
My Lord, I will.
Age.
Heaven affects. Why do I live, and ſee him thus,
And I the Author? Madam, what is your pleaſure?
Will you remove unknown, or ſhall I wait
Upon you to your brother?
Luc.
Sir, I beſeech you, give me leave to be my own diſpoſer.
Age.
Obedience is my ſacrifice.
Luc.
But how, or where, is yet unknown to me,
Uncertain fate, yet certain miſery.
Exeunt.
Finis Actûs quarti.
Actus quintus.
Enter the two Courtiers.
2.
WHat, are our Comedians ready?
1.
Yes, yes.
1.
That's well; the Princeſſe does walk preſently, and comming in unlook'd for, 't will pleaſe her the better. It's fine Poetry, is't not?
1.
Onely faulty, if not fooliſh enough; a quarter of an houres work, when 'twas done; and yet I have ſtudied a long time; and can finde nothing more ridiculous,
2.
Is there no prologue?
1.
No, there's too few Actors.—Here's the Princeſſe.
They have their one, they'l enter ſure.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
How now, what ſtrange hob-goblin's this?
Enter Man.
Man.
Love, that intoxicates the brains of mortals, where there is any,
Here inhabits none to be intoxicated, 'tis well known.
Not Siſiphus, that reſtleſſe rowles the ſtone ſtill,
Takes more delight, then I do in my own fill.
Enter Gudgen like a Lady.
My Phillida, lo where ſhe does appear,
More humble then a Peacock, or his peer,
The Turky, who with her briſtling plumes,
Confounds my ſenſe, and my poor heart conſumes.
Oh gods▪ Oh moſt glittering Wight,
Thou workſt upon me, I had need go write.
My paſſion, 'tis not a ſtumbling tongue,
That can expreſſe the love I bear thy bung.
Y. G.
Kiſſe where thou lov'ſt, I thee pray, even here;
Nothing I have too pretious for my dear.
But you do fool me, I and frump me; you,
I Venus fair or chaſt; go too, go too.
Man.
Is Venus like to thee, thou durty ſow?
No, thou art like unto our brended Cow:
But yet I fear ſhe will prove wilder far,
Thou art incenſt, thy goblin eyes make war.
Y. G.
Puh let me go, theſe come not from your heart;
Too late I finde you play the Courtiers part.
Man.
May all the joyes of earth confound me, I,
Have dyed thy love, and live I will perdy.
Y. G.
Oh perjur'd man, ſee where ſhe comes you wot of,
Betwixt you ſurely I am made a ſot of.
Enter a Wench.
Wen.
Sir, I am come to viſit you, and your fair Miſtreſs.
Man.
Moſt odoriferous Lady, you are offenſibly welcome; for you have done me a moſt deſperate and intolerable favour; my Miſtreſſe does with me, I know, congratulate the miſchiefe.
Wench.
Sir, I am a ſimple wench, that underſtand nothing beyond ſenſe.
Man.
I am ſorry for it, yet I will deſcend to your underſtanding, and ſpeak none; or very little, hereafter.
Wen.
It will become your perſon.
Y. G.
Hark how ſhe woes my dear: Oh, I am loſt I fear.
Wen.
Lady, you are ſad, and much I wonder, being ſo happy in your ſervant.
Y. G.
Damoſell, you are unkinde, your ſcorns are ſcurvy, and become you not.
Man.
Oh thou art ſuch a pretty wench, I could wiſh my ſelfe a gib Cat, and we two together in the dark.
Y. G.
Ah me! he's loſt. Sir, you forget me, your Phillida.
Man.
Thee? I do contemn the thought of ſuch a dowdie.
Y. G.
Ah me, then let me die; thou conſtant wretch, maiſt thou ſink down to bliſſe; but ſhall I curſe, whom I have loved more, then my beſt Cow M
•
ll: Oh no. Come death and end my woe. But what ſhall finiſh my unhappy daies? this knife, this ſhall afford me paſſage to the ſhades below, where I will try by dying thus my love to ſhow, and fill his hard heartfull of diſmall wo.
Man.
Alas good fool.
Wen.
Will you not ſave her?
Y. G.
Now I am dead, doſt thou not grieve, thou cruell elſe,
If I had known, I had not kill'd my ſelfe.
Now I am ſtark dead, pray tell him ſo.
Man.
Would thou wert buried, thou'lt ne're leave talking elſe.
Aur.
Miranthe, this is ſo wofull a ſtory, I'le hear no more, make my excuſe to the dead Lady, when ſhe revives.
Exeunt Aur. and Miran.
Man.
Maſter, Maſter, riſe, riſe.
Y. G.
That's not my cue, he's out.
Man.
The Princeſſe is gone.
Y. G.
Gone is not my cue neither.
Man.
The play is done.
Y. G.
Thou lyeſt, I muſt be kis'd firſt; I wil I not open mine eyes till I be kis'd.
Man.
What a coile's here, I could finde in my heart, now his eyes are ſhut, to undo my points, and give him his cue. Sir, Maſter. I think hee's a verier aſſe then my ſelfe, there let him lie, for me, I'le follow for a reward.
Exit.
Y. G.
Is he gone, had I no place about me worthy his kiſſe?
Then let me wake from death. Why this it is,
Since when I courted him, he would not come,
My Ghoſt ſhall haunt him, till he kiſſe my hum, hum.
Exit.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
This is the day, and this the place, that Philanthus
Intends to preſent himſelf as the ſtranger Knight,
To receive what puniſhment I ſhall inflict,
Where I will make him jealous of himſelfe.
Mir.
Why will you ſo torment him, ſince you confeſſe you love him.
Aur.
Still to draw greater proofes of his affection, in which I glory.
Mir.
Take heed, whilſt that you uſe him thus, you do not
Leſſen what you would make greater, his love.
Were I man and in his place, I ſhould have hated
You, for you in reaſon have appeared unworthy,
And inconſtant, which how his generous ſpirit
May brook, who knowes.
Aur.
Púh theſe are needleſſe fears, ſee where he comes,
The ſame armes he wore, when he o're came Adraſtus;
A coldneſſe ſtrikes my heart at ſight of him.
Enter the Moor as Philanthus.
Moor.
If you be the Princeſſe Aurelia, I was enjoyn'd
Thus low to bend my knee, lower my heart,
In my ſubmiſſion to your offended deity.
Aur.
Yes, Sir, I am, and you I take to be the moſt
Diſcourteous Knight alive.
Moor.
Madam, I have already paid for that offence,
The forfeit of my honour, if not to be recovered,
By faithfully performing what I was enjoyn'd,
Rather commanded, by your Philanthus, for ſuch
How e're you priſe him, he deſires to be eſteem'd.
Aur.
How well he counterfeits anothers voice.
Moor.
By a ſtrange accident he met me, and when
Perſwaſion would not move me, for I had a deſire
Another way, he did employ his not to be reſiſted valour,
Compelling me to ſwear, for ſafeguard of my life,
Here to preſent my ſelfe, and willingly receive
What puniſhment your rigour can inflict.
Aur.
What cenſure do you expect?
Moor.
Death, for I do believe you the moſt cruell Lady living.
Aur.
Why do you think ſo?
Moor.
Your rigour to Philanthns, who partly made
Me know his ſtory, made me ſuſpect; yet ſtill
He loves you, more then his own ſoul. But your
Unjuſt hatred againſt me, gives me aſſurance,
Of your cruell nature.
Aur.
Perhaps I did but ſeem to hate you, you feel am unarm'd
For puniſhment, none but my ſelfe, and one weak woman more.
But you are bound by oath to endure what ere
I ſhall inflict; I'le try him fully.
Moor.
I am, and wiſh to know my ſentence.
Aur.
With you own ſword I will perform it.
Moor.
Alas, you have not ſtrength to take my life, were I unarm'd.
Aur.
Rather no will, you are not noble that would thus,
T' the danger of your life, perform your promiſe.
Receive your ſword, and know, I am ſo far
From hate, that I did love you, for the great reſpect
You ſhew'd me, though I ſeem'd otherwiſe.
But you retiring, and to me unknown,
Bar'd me from means to thank you, or let you know,
How much I lik'd your valour, which ſure by Philanthus
Could not be exceeded; I rather take it as a courteous act
From you to him, he hoping the performance
Of the task enjoyn'd, might reconcile him to my love,
Which is now impoſſible; yet, I did much affect him,
Till his boaſting did beget my hatred.
But truſt me, in his ſending you, how e're,
I thank him, he hath much prejudic'd himſelfe.
There is no honour that this Court can do you,
Which boldly you may not promiſe to your ſelfe.
Nor would I have you think I am unconſtant,
For I have ſtill profeſt to love, where I did find
Moſt worth, untill I were confin'd by Marriage.
Moor.
Madam, however ſome will cenſure this your humour,
To me it does appear the beſt. I honour you,
And ſhall believe my ſelfe the happieſt creature
Living, in this your good opinion.
Aur.
Longer, Sir, I will not hold you, but when you pleaſe
To viſit me at Court, theres no aſſurance
Of my affection, that I ſhall refuſe,
Which honour will permit me to beſtow.
Moor.
I, make me in my own opinion the mark of envy,
To the moſt happy living. Beſides, thus on your hand,
I ſeal my laſting ſervice.
Exit.
Mir.
Madam, what's your deſigne in this, to give Philanthus,
As a ſtranger, ſo large aſſurances of your affection,
And yet make him think, you hate him as he is himſelf.
Enter the ſecond Courtiers.
2.
Ah! Madam, the moſt unfortunate accident.
Aur.
How! what? thou frighteſt me, ſpeak.
2.
The Prince your brother.
Aur.
What of him?
2.
Hath kill'd his deareſt friend, noble Philanthus.
Aur.
'Tis impoſſible, I know the contrary.
2.
Oh, Madam, 'tis too true, your brothers ſorrow is a witneſſe of it;
The Court is drown'd in tears, and juſtly,
It never felt a greater loſſe.
Aur.
I have abuſed my ſelf then, made vowes and proteſtations
To I know not whom; the voice indeed was different.
But is this certain truth? were ye a witneſſe?
But how, or why, or when? I am amazed
With wonder and ſorrow. Speak.
2.
'Tis ſo certain, that your brother would have kil'd himſelf,
Had he not been prevented.
Aur.
He had done well, 'tis fit we all ſhould die;
For who would live after Philanthus.
Exeum.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
You Gods, was't not ſufficient miſery for me
To love a man, whom I had never ſeen before?
His heart given to another, or ere he knew me?
But that you afterwards muſt raiſe me to the happineſs
Of his affection, and then thus violently pull
Him from me. Why ſhould you thus oppoſe your ſtrongeſt powers
Againſt a ſilly woman. But, love, I know it is thy malice,
That did invite the cruell deſtinies to cut
The fine ſpun thread of dear Philanthus, and cruelly
Lengthen mine. You powers, it is enough; for you have humbled
My proud heart low as the earth. Seek out ſome other,
That hath not felt your ſcourges, I confeſſe
Your power, and am obedient too. But why ſhould I
Begin to flatter unjuſt heaven, within whoſe power
It does not lie to pleaſure me. Philanthus gone,
Whoſe name I'le reverence more in their deſpight,
Then all the envious deities, that took him from me.
Enter Philanthus, as a Ghoſt.
Phil.
Impious, cruell, and forgetfull woman, thy ſacrilegious
Thoughts and words, I ſee, have been the cauſes,
That have ſtopt my paſsage to the Elizium fields,
Forcing me thus wandring to ſtay above the earth,
To feel torments above neglect in love;
Nay, equall to thoſe helliſh pangs, bred from the thoughts
Of a much lov'd inconſtant Miſtreſs. But I'le revenge
My ſelfe, by haunting thee perpetually.
Aur.
Oh thou dear ghoſt, ſuch a revenge were ſweet,
I ſhould deſire to look upon thee ever.
After I had thee, thou wert ſoon loſt, I was not ſatisfied.
Let me if poſſible embrace thee, at leaſt
Converſe with thee for ever thus.
Phil.
I ſee you have forgot my laſt requeſt.
Think on the Prince, in whom I live; this way ye croſs
The ordinance of heaven, who never failes
To puniſh diſobedience, from me. If you
Be ſlack in loving him, my ghoſt ſhall never reſt
In peace; and when I next appear, a thouſand furies
Will come along, and in your ſight torment me,
Paſt what a mortall can imagin, if not for love
Of him, for love of me. Be pittifull, and free me
From an endleſs miſery. Go to my Tomb,
Where daily you ſhall finde him weeping:
There make an offer of your ſelfe, in recompence
Of all his ſufferings; this done, you may be happy.
But if refuſ'd, the height of miſery will fall upon you,
To me, perpetuall torment; remember,
On me perpetuall torment.
Luc.
Stay, ſtay, and hear me.
Phil.
My time is paſt, remember laſting torment.
Ex▪
Luc.
'Tis vaniſh'd, cruell ghoſt, that doſt conjure me,
Thus unkindly to forſake my firſt love, inconſtancy's avice,
They do not love at all, that can love twice.
'Tis to me impoſſible, which if I do it not, I ſhall be miſerable.
And in doing it, I ſhall be ſo too then 'tis indifferent:
Oh no, I ſhall releaſe from miſery,
And happy make the ghoſt of Philanthus;
That thought alone o'recomes me.
(Recorders)
Strange friendſhip when the ghoſt of him that's dead,
Shall for the living with ſuch reaſon's plead.
Exit.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
Where is the Prince? is he yet ſo tranſported with ſorrow?
2.
I ne're ſaw man ſo torment himſelfe. 'Tis true; Philanthus
Deſerv'd to have as many tears ſhed for him,
As any Prince that liv'd, but yet, that being paſt,
And ſorrow fruitleſſe, me-thinks the ſorrow ſhould grow leſſe.
1.
If it be poſſible, it does receive increaſe.
Some ſay, the Princeſſe Aurelia bears a part too.
2.
Wheres the old Duke? followed his children to the Tomb
Of Philanthus: Never ſuch a ſorrow ſeen in Millain.
1.
In duty we are bound to wait upon them,
Both with our perſons and our ſorrow.
Exeunt.
Enter Agenor.
Age.
Me-thinks this ſacred ground, that does contain
The body of my friend, ſhould open it ſelf,
And give me leave once more to embrace him,
If his dear ghoſt be' concil'd; and if it hate me,
Why ſhould not then the earth, in friendſhip
To its now inhabitants, gape wide and ſwallow me
Alive, for my baſe act? How often have the gods
Made even the inſenſible elements, the executioners
Of their juſtice, againſt a murtherer, and a more
Hatefull one was never performed: murder'd my friend,
Oh baſe! and ſuch a friend, that even in death
Expreſt himſelfe above my malice. The wound
This ſword hath made in his noble & undefenc'd breaſt
Was only like a vent to a full veſſell,
That ſo the ſtream of his unequall love might finde
The freeer paſſage. Why ſhould I live then, to be the hatefull,
And contemn'd example of ingratitude, to all poſterity?
And I will daily ſacrifice my ſorrowes and my tears
Upon his Tombe, 'twill not ſerve. Were I a woman,
Water might waſh my guilt off; but as I am a man,
A manly ſacrifice muſt expiate my fault.
Blood muſt be ſatisfied with blood. Philanthus,
Receive this ſacrifice, I will revenge the murder.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
Deer my Lord, what would ye do?
Age.
Nothing, why do ye hinder?
Who made you my controulers?
2.
Heaven forbid, that we ſhould ſuffer you.
Age.
For friendſhip ſake, give me my ſword, why ſhould you
Keep me hereto torment me? in death I ſhould find eaſe.
If any of you had a minde to die, and knew 'twould be for your content,
Think you I would be ſo diſcourteous to diſturb you?
You need not hold me, you may give me freedom,
Now I have no weapon, you cannot hinder me to weep
Theſe curſed eyes out; by whoſe falſe lights,
falſe to my ſoul, came in that beauty of Lucinda,
Whoſe violence working by jealouſie, forced me
To murder my deareſt deareſt friend. Pardon love,
I have blaſphem'd againſt thy deity, for which I know,
His Ghoſt will hate me more then for his wounds.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
Hence hypocrite, doſt thou not fear his wounds
Should ope themſelves, and blead his ſearcloath through,
At thy approach.
Age.
Siſter, you cannot pronounce words half ſo harſh
As I deſerve, nor tax me with a guilt ſo great,
But I'le acknowledge more, but not the ſame
Which you accuſe me of: For, were the ſorrow
Of the world joyn'd in one for Philanthus,
Mine might be thought a worthy rivall,
Nay, exceed that far.
Aur.
Oh Philanthus.
Age.
But ſiſter, you, why you, why do you ſeem to grieve
Thus, that in his life ſhewed ſuch contempt?
Aur.
Oh brother, brother, ſeeking to deceive and blinde the world,
I have ruin'd and undone my ſelfe, the heavens
A
•
witneſſes, that Philanthus to me was more
Then father, you, and all the world. Then give me
Leave alone to grieve, ſince all griefes elſe are
but like drops to the vaſt Ocean.
Age.
Siſter, the Ocean hath his bounds, though large,
But my ſorrow, like to his love, for whom I grieve,
Muſt be beyond all limits, but his deſert,
The cauſe of my affliction.
Aur.
Philanthus, Philanthus. But what are words, or fighes, or tears,
But weak expreſſions? let a dead ſilence rather ſhow,
They grieve not much, that can expreſſe their woe.
Enter Duke.
1.
Sir, your father.
Age.
Here, here.
1.
Madam, the Duke.
Aur.
Lov'd Philanthus, I know he did, and ſo did I,
Though I diſſembled, dearly I loved him; if there be charity
In you, open his tomb, that I may make his body know,
By kiſſing his pale lips, that I did love him,
More then he did me; his ſpirit's already
Satisfied, I know, elſe it would haunt me.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
You twins of ſorrow, that ſtrive with eagerneſſe,
Which ſhould be thought the trueſt mourner, make room
For one, whoſe actions have in point of love,
Outgone your airie words.
Age.
I know that voice, Lucinda.
Luc.
For which of you, after the killing of a much lov'd brother,
For then I thought Adraſtus dead, became
Enamoured of his murderer, as I did of Philanthus?
Or which of you forſook your honours, or your ſtate,
Becomming like to me, a ſtragling Gipſie,
Forced to it, by a greater feeling of his merit,
Than ever touched your heart, purſuing him
In that diſguiſe, even when to hope the leaſt requitall
Had been madneſſe? and yet I muſt give proof
Beyond all theſe, when I have offered ſome
Few tears upon his Tombe.
Aur.
Lucinda, for ſuch I know your name is, how would it vex me,
To hear you boaſt your love thus of Philanthus,
Were he alive; and yet I ſhould have gloried much,
To be by him preferred before ſo excellent a Lady
As your ſelfe: But ſince unkind brother,
But worſe friend, hath by his raſh hand, inrich'd
The Tombe, with what we both ſhould ſtrive for, let' joyne
In ſorrow, and from our moumfull eyes by turnes,
Drop tears, till by continuall motion, this hard
And unkinde Marble, may yield us paſſage to him,
Which it now denies.
And ſo at laſt we by our tears ſhall gain,
What now by prayers we cannot obtain.
Duk.
My dear children, why do you yield to ſorrow thus
Where there's no hope of remedy? I am a partner
In your griefe; you know that Philanthus was as
Dear to me as any; but ſince I know I cannot
Raiſe him to life by weeping, why ſhould I
Shew my ſelf a child, and mourn in vain?
Enter Adraſtus.
Adr.
How, my Siſter here, and mourning o're the Tomb
Of Philanthus, 'tis impoſſible, ſhe never ſaw him.
Age.
You are deceived, Sir, be your own witneſſe.
Adr.
'Tis ſhe. Degenerate from my blood, weep for mine
Enemy. Save you, Lady.
Luc.
Brother, I know you wonder much to ſee me here;
But more, that I lament thus for a man,
Which you believe I knew not.
Adr.
I do, I ſee the great love that you profeſt to me,
Was wholly counterfeit.
Luc.
Rather your vertues, brother, are not what I thought'm
•…
But love however's my excuſe.
Age.
Oh Philanthus!
Luc.
Ha! me-thought the ſpirit of Philanthus ſpoke from his Tomb.
Chiding my ſlackneſs in performing his will; did it not, Sir?
Age.
Not that I heard.
Luc.
His ghoſt appeared to me in dead of night,
And cruelly commanded me thus to preſent my ſelf
Before his Tomb, a gift unto the Prince Agenor,
From his dead friend.
Age.
How! do you mock me?
Luc.
Which, though unwillingly, I here perform,
Much more to ſatisfie my promiſe to his ghoſt,
Than to requite your love; and yet, noble
Sorrow may be accounted merit.
Age.
Strange ghoſt!
Adr.
How?
Age.
Madam, till now, my thoughts were in the grave with Philanthus,
His ſpirit it ſeemes, knowing my hearty ſorrow and repentance
Labour'd to make me happy in your love:
And I receive you with a joy above
What any tongue is able to expreſſe.
Adr.
This makes for my advantage, and is it poſſible,
Aurelia may return to love me, Philanthus
Being dead. Who's here, the Knight that fought with me?
Theſe Armes are ominous.
Enter Philanthus and the Moor.
Duk.
Come from the Tomb, Agenor, leave this ſorrow.
Age.
Sir, I'le obey you for this time; but after, daily offer up
Tears of joy and ſorrow, in which Scene I ſtill
Muſt be an actor.
Duk.
Aurelia, be not wilfull.
Aur.
Thus all forſake me, no companions in my ſorrow left,
And I do glory in it.
Phil.
Sir, by your gratious favour: Lady, why weep you thus?
Aur.
Ha! what are you ſo ignorant, that does not know the cauſe?
Phil
Do you know me then, the large expreſſion that
You made me of your reſpects, I might ſay love,
Made me believe, I ſhould not be ſo ſoon forgot.
Aur.
Pardon me, Sir, I took you for this Knight then, for whom I now
Weep, whoſe body lies here in this Tomb, from whence
I do not mean to part; pray leave me, Sir. How got
This Knight theſe Armes, they are the ſame Philanthus wore.
Phil.
Lady, you grieve for one, does not deſerve this ſorrow;
Behold in me a worthier ſervant, who now am come to claim
Performance of your ſo large promiſes. Point not to that,
I beat him whilſt he lived, and from him took theſe Armes.
Age.
Traitor Knight, thou lieſt; no, thou didſt rather
Play the thiefe, and ſteal them, which I will
Make thee confeſſe, elſe offer thee a
Sacrifice upon his Tombe.
Phil.
In theſe Armes I overcame Adraſtus.
Age.
Thou lieſt, and ſhalt not live to injure thus
The dead; know, 'twas Philanthus by all the gods,
And this is.
Phil.
Philanthus, your ſervant.
diſcovers himſelf.
Age.
Ha! is't poſſible.
Phil.
Be not amazed, but truſt your eyes.
Age.
How can this be?
Phil.
You being wilfull and enraged, I rather
Ventured to receive one wound, and ſo ſeem ſlain,
Than in your death to loſe a friend, a Miſtreſſe,
And my own life too; but life would have bin hatefull
After your loſs, if I could have preſerv'd it.
Moor.
But mark his love, while his wounds yet bled;
(For to my charge, you know, you did commit
The body) He ſtudied to make you happy
In my Ladie's love, which was effected, by playing
His own ghoſt, whilſt I did in his Armes,
With you ſupply his place; how eaſie 'twas
To coſen you, and thoſe you ſent, by filling
The Coffin with ſome traſh, having my brother
To aſſiſt me in it, the dulleſt may conceive.
For my part, I was glad to raiſe my Miſtreſſe to a greater
At leaſt, if not a better fortune in
The Princes love.
Age.
Madam, I hope you will not make his labour fruitleſs.
Luc.
It were in vain to croſs the will of heaven, which ſeemes
To have ordained Philanthus for your worthier ſiſter.
Phil.
It lay not in my power till now, by reaſon of my wounds,
To keep my promiſe truly; but now, behold
Me ready to receive.
Aur.
Me, as a recompence for all your ſufferings; no other puniſhment.
Age.
Sir, we are joyn'd, and do mean to grow together,
If you do not ſevere us.
Duk.
Enjoy your wiſhes both. Adraſtus,
For your ſiſters ſake I wiſh your friendſhip.
Adr.
Pardon the faults that grew from love to Aurelia,
And I ſhall ſtudy your advancement.
Luc.
Brother, be better then you have been.
Adr.
Which to begin, I give my ſelfe again
A ſervant to fair Miranthe, whoſe love, I know,
Not malice, croſs'd me in my love to Aurelia.
Mir.
I'le none, I thank you;
You that forſook me, aiming at a greater
Now offer'd I refuſe, hoping a better.
Enter old Gudgen and young Gudgen.
Y. G.
Old man, I ſay to thee, be proud, and eke rejoyce, to ſee thy hopefull ſon ſalute the Duke in triumph, and by him reſaluted like to an Emperator.
Duk.
Away rididulous aſſe.
Y. G.
Did not I tell you?
Duk.
Get you into the Country to your ſheep and
oxen, thoſe, you feed well, will like your company, here your Favouritſhip is growne ſtale; the Court is not ſo barren, but it brings forth daily ſome new humour, which at firſt is pleaſant, but after, like to yours, grows tedious.
O. G.
Why, ſon, is this your gracing?
Y. G.
The envy of ſome Politick hath done this.
Duk.
See all things ſtraight prepared to ſolemnize
The happy marriages of theſe, in whom,
Friendſhip and love ſtrove for a name;
Exeunt.
In you love, in you friendſhip overcame.
Floriſh.
O. G.
Come, ſon, come, after the loſs of all our mony, let's e'ne go home, and be wiſer once, never too old to learn.
Y. G.
I, Father, but I am too young yet. Well, I will be a favourit for all this; I, ſo it ſhall be. Gentlemen, I mean to make a petition to the Duke, which I muſt intreat you to ſet your hand to, being the beſt judges of my ability; and thus it is:
That ſince to be a worthy minion I'me not fit,
Yet I may be the chiefe fool-Favourit.
FINIS.