University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

SCENE At Court, near the Council-Chamber.
Enter Sir J. Cæsar and Carew.
Sir J. Cæsar.
Sure as e'en now we pass'd the Council Door,
I saw Lord Gundamor; and if these Eyes
Discern'd aright, his Visage seem'd to bear
A Mixture of uncertain Cheerfulness,
Like Hope corrected by some cautious Fear:
I like it not—For tho' we cannot read
The Wiles of Statesmen in their publick Looks;
Yet, when alone, the Soul works undisguis'd,
And prints its Meaning on the outward Form

Car.
That Face ne'er boded Good to British Hearts;
For, trust me, as I hold my Country dear,
As I revere her Monarch's sacred Head;
Yea, as I wish Prosperity may crown
That Faith our Fathers witness'd in the Flames:
So much I fear that busie Statesman's Art
Is working up some cursed Scene of Woe,
To stain those dearest Names with foul Disgrace,
And fix a Mark of Hatred on their Friends.

J. C.
Curse on the Drole, and his intriguing Mirth,
His studied Jokes, and Insolence of Wit;
By this he winds the Women in his Toils,
Fashions the flatter'd Sex to all his Views,
Rouses the curious Devil in their Souls,
That knows no Rest, but Tortures without End,
Till it has wrung each Purpose of the State
From the fond Husband-Fool, who must betray
His King, his God—to set his Wife at Ease.
I tell thee, Friend, Dissimulation dwells,
As at her Home, in ev'ry Smile he wears:
That Face has laugh'd us into deeper Shame,
Than we can suffer from his Monarch's Frowns;
Tho' heighten'd with the Pride of new Armadas,
All Europe's Princes, and his Indian Gold.

Car.
That Gold, believe me, Sir, is well employ'd;
It works like Poison thro' our weaken'd State;
Infects our generous pure Forefathers Bloods,
And fits our Free-born Souls for Foreign Yokes.
How many noble Structures could I name,
What sumptuous Villas, labour'd up to Heav'n,
Enrich'd with figur'd Silks, and stiff with Gold?
But not one Tale in all the Pile to say,
These are the Monuments of perjur'd Faith,
The high-rais'd Spoils of mercenary Greatness.

J. C.
'Tis a sad Truth, and we must mourn it long,
Unless this cunning Minister of Hell,
This Gundamor, be soon remov'd from Court.
He, he betrays our Councils to our Foes,
And cheats us with the specious Name of Friendship.
Can we forget the valiant Raleigh's Fate,
Whose Spirit quicken'd our adventrous Youth,
To chace Ambition to her last-flown length,
And hunt her in a new untravell'd World?

Car.
He scorn'd the Wages of disloyal Crimes,
To rust in Peace, and stretch a lazy Hand
For sordid Bribes, but sought the Monarch's Gold,
In that remotest Climate where it grew.

J. C.
Yet when the ripen'd Project grew to bear,
That crooked Politician's fatal Skill
Found a Betrayer, and destroy'd his Hopes.

Car.
And still his cunning Arts detain him close,
Confin'd in loathsome and inglorious Bondage,
The bitter'st Anguish to a Soul like his.
Still is he branded with a Traitor's Name,
For some mysterious Maxim of the State.
This Day a flying Rumour reach'd my Ear,
That he must fall—But see, his surly Mate,
Old Howard, comes; sad Discontent
Lowrs on his Brow, and threatens in his Eye.

J. C.
The Man is brave, his Mistress is the Sea,
And on my Soul I think he likes her more,
Because her Qualities resemble his;
Whose Depth is fraught with rich and hidden Treasure,
While Storms and Tempests on the Surface blow.
Yet is he secretly inquisitive,
And while he hates it, much frequents the Court.
Let us observe him—

Enter Howard.
How.
Thus far I'm come,
On Satan's Ground, and yet no Fiend appears
To tempt me; sure all Hell's asleep to-night;
And yet I come at Gundamor's Request.
What can the subtle Spaniard want with me?
I am no Courtier, no fawning Dog of State,
To lick and kiss the Hand that buffets me:
Nor can I smile upon my Guest, and praise
His Stomach, when I know he feeds on Poison,
And Death disguis'd sits grinning at my Table.
Nay, what is worse, I cannot pimp, nor lye;
Why then at Court? or, why with Gundamor?
Hold—let me think—Ay,—in that tender Point:
On the dear Cement of united Hearts,
He strikes—He would—the Villain would—O Raleigh!

Car.
Observ'd you how the lab'ring Secret work'd,
How strong Suspicion fir'd the Train of Honour
To a new Brightness, and display'd his Soul
Godlike and Great, and worthy of his Friend!

How.
[turning]
By Hell, discover'd! O! these rotten Spies,
That have a Hole for ev'ry private Word,
And postern multiplying Vents for Mischief.
Henceforth may Dumbness seize upon my Tongue,
If I but whisper to a Wall at Court.

J. C.
We can forgive your Zeal, who know the Cause,
The Blindness of your Passion pleads Excuse
To Friends, and we, you know, are Raleigh's Friends.
We honour, love him, watch o'er, fear as much
For that dear, great, unhappy Man,
As generous Howard does.—

How.
—Ha! said you Fear—
Preach Fear to Earth-begotten Citizens,
When civil Uproar threatens a Reprizal
On the curs'd greedy Gatherings of Extortion:
Bid the projecting Politician fear,
When all his Springs are wound up to the Heighth,
And if one Motion fails, the whole Machine
Sinks, and destroys the Builder in its Ruins.
Talk Fear to Hypocrites, to Midnight Murderers,
To the rude Spoiler of defenceless Honour,
To Priests and Cowards—But name it not with Virtue:
Fear is the Tax that Conscience pays to Guilt.

Car.
And yet unspotted Innocence may fall
The Sacrifice of Cunning and Revenge:
Witness the fatal Tryal of our Friend.

J. C.
A Tryal founded on a Mystery,
A Plot begotten by the Sire of Lyes,
And nurs'd to full-grown Treason by the Care
Of fostring Lawyers, Rogues, than can extract
Fines out of Looks, and Death from double Meanings.

How.
I heard the deep-mouth'd Pack, they scented Blood
From the first starting, and pursu'd their View
With the Law-Music of long-winded Calumny.
Well I remember, one among the Tribe,
A reading Cut-throat, skill'd in Paralells
And dark Comparisons of wondrous likeness,
Who in a Speech of unchew'd Eloquence
Muster'd up all the Crimes since Noah's Days;
To put in ballance with this fancied Plot,
And made e'en Cataline a Saint to Raleigh.
The Sycophant so much o'er-play'd his Part,
I could have hugg'd him, kiss'd th'unskilful Lyes
Hot from his Venal Tongue.

Car.
He was the same,
Who, starting from the Question in Debate,
And, when corrected by a calm Rebuke,
Catch'd all the Scandal Malice could suggest,
Search'd to the Heart, and cramm'd plain Atheist down,
His brave Opponent's Throat

J. C.
Vain Insolence!
But 'tis the Curse, and Fashion of the Times:
When Prejudice and strong Aversions work,
All whose Opinions we dislike are Atheists;
Now 'tis a Term of Art, a Bug-bear Word,
The Villain's Engine and the Vulgars Terror.
The Man who thinks and judges for himself,
Unsway'd by aged Follies, rev'rend Errors,
Grown Holy by Traditionary Dulness
Of School Authority, He is an Atheist.
The Man who, hating idle Noise, preserves
A pure Religion seated in his Soul,
He is a silent, dumb, dissembling Atheist.

How.
I had forgot it—yes, the base-tongu' Gownman,
Did call him Atheist—So Men judge at hom
Who never trace'd a Providence at Sea;
And saw his Wonders in the mighty Deep.
The Atheist-Sailor were a monstrous thing,
More wonderful than all old Ocean breeds.
But I will witness for my Raleigh's Faith;
Yes, I have seen him when the Tempest rag'd,
When from the Precipice of Mountain Waves
All Hearts have trembled at the Gulph below,
He, with a steddy, supplicating Look,
Display'd his Trust in that tremendous Pow'r,
Who curbs the Billows, and cuts short the Wings
Of the rude Whirlwind in its midway Course,
And bids the Madness of the Waves to cease.
O! Fellow-Soldier, were that Folly thine,
Tho' thou wer't dearer than the Love of Honour
To this old Bosom, I would pluck thee hence,
Tho' my Heart crack'd—
And plot with Gundamor to work thy Fall.

Car.
'Tis brave and open, Sir; but Friendship now
Exacts a nobler Part, and bids us stand
The Safeguard of his injur'd Innocence.
For know, this Moment Britain's Council sit
The Judges of his Fate, and much I fear,
He bleeds a private Sacrifice of State.

How.
Rather may half the Tribe of Favourite Slaves,
Those New-born Insects of perverted Pow'r,
Perish and rot, like an untimely Birth;
They, and their Houses—No, it shall not be.

J. C.
Thou talk'st as if thy Hand could stop the Course
Of headlong Ruin; but yet calmly think,
What mighty Foes withstand thy gen'rous Views.
See Worster, Suffolk, subtle Salisbury,
Sworn and Confederate all to seal his Fate.
Weigh these, and Gundamor.

How.
For Salisbury,
Whose Pow'r and Malice run the longest length,
I'll raise a Bosom-Traytor in his House,
To check the Pride of that intriguing Statesmen.
Next let the cunning Spaniard well beware;
Whate'er he dreams, his Projects fail on me:
Yet I must hear him for my Raleigh's sake.

Car.
Sure there he stands—as parting from the Lords,
Bowing with humble Salutations low—
He whispers Salisbury; see, they squeeze,
And sign some Bloody Bargain with that Kiss.

How.
Blue Pestilence and Poison blast their Lips!
O! how I hate this Tribe of kissing Courtiers.
There is some Flavour in a Woman's Breath;
And Nature bids us meet it with a Gust.
But these new Kissers, with their Spanish Air,
Make Perjury conclude, where Lust begins.
But, Friends, retire, for he advances now;
Think of our Honesty, and hope Success.

Car.
Heav'n, who inspires it, prosper thy Intent.
We bend another way, resolv'd to search
Mysterious Cobham's Mind, and prove if yet
He mints new Treasons in his fertile Brain.

How.
Farewell; remember that the Brave Man's Friend
Acts in the Room of Providence it self,
And makes up the Deficiencies of Heav'n.

[Ex. J. C. and Car.