 | The Restauration : Or, Right will take Place |  |
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Act V.
Scene I.
Philander, Araminta, Endymion.Ara.
Nay, dear Philander, pray lament no more
End.
For Heavens sake give o'er; we're very well.
Phil.
Oh Araminta, oh Endymion, leave
To be thus kind; I shall be shut from Heav'n,
As now from Earth, if you continue so.
I am a Man that have abus'd a pair
Of the most trusty ones Earth ever bore:
Can it still bear us all? Forget me, pray,
Think that so great a Wretch could not be born,
As was Philander. And for thee, my Boy,
I shall declare Words that will mollifie
The Hearts of Beasts, to spare thy Innocence.
End.
Alas, my Lord, my Life is not a Thing
Worthy your noble Thoughts: 'Tis not a Life,
'Tis but a Piece of Childhood thrown away.
Should I outlive you, I should then outlive
Virtue and Honour; And when that Day comes,
If ever above once I close these Eyes,
May I live spotted for my Perjury.
Ara.
And I the miserablest Maid alive,
Do, by the Honour of a Virgin, vow
Never to quit you.
Phil.
Make me not so hated:
People will tear me, when they find you true
To such a Wretch as me: I shall die loath'd.
Enjoy your Kingdoms peaceably, whilst I
For ever sleep forgotten with my Faults.
Every just Servant, every Maid in Love
Will have a Piece of me, if you be true.
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A piece of you? He must be one not born
Of Woman, that can cut it, and look on.
Phil.
Take me in Tears betwixt you; for my Heart
Will break with Shame and Sorrow.
Ara.
Grieve no more.
Phil.
Pray tell me now, if you had wrong'd me basely,
And found your Life no Price compar'd to mine?
What Is't you would have done?
End.
'Twas a Mistake.
Phil.
What if it were?
End.
We would have ask'd your pardon.
Phil.
And hope t' enjoy it too?
Ara.
Enjoy it? Yes.
Phil.
Would you indeed? Be plain.
End.
We would, my Lord.
Phil.
Forgive me then.
Ara.
So, so, 'tis well.
Are all things ready for our Marriage?
End.
I'll go see;
Learn all to love without Design from me.
[Exit.
Phil.
Lead to my Death.
Ara.
I hope not so; at least
Thus much I'm sure of, that I won't outlive you:
And that I might the better claim a Right
To end my Days with yours, I have a Priest
Ready to join our Hands and Hearts together.
Phil.
Can there be yet a new Invention found
Still more to shame Philander? I must now
Fly from her Love, or be her Murderer.
Ara.
What means this Pause? Why won't you speak to me?
Phil.
I know not which is worst; O my dear Soul,
I dare not trust your Father's Cruelty;
He is grown hot and speedy in his Rage.
And now I'm Master of my self again,
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Ara.
Nothing can harm me but your want of Love,
I dread your Coldness, not his Heat nor Rage.
Phil.
Ay, but his Hatred against me is such,
He would destroy you too if you were mine.
Ara.
What if he did; I should take Pleasure in't,
Had I but you, Philander, in my Arms.
Phil.
Dear Araminta, press me not so far;
Try not my Passion with too strong a Test;
Lovers can never very long be wise;
They go too fast to keep a steddy Pace,
And mind with too much Violence present things
To take their Measures right of what's to come:
If you inflame me more, my Love will grow
So wild, I shall not have one cool Thought left,
And then I shall undo thee.
Ara.
No, you'll make
Me blest; of all the Race of Womankind
Most happy.
Phil.
But yet I—
Ara.
What?
Phil.
I'm afraid.
Ara.
Do not torment me thus, if 'tis for Love
Of me you are so; mark what I shall say;
For Heav'n ne'er yet declar'd a greater Truth;
Marry me straight, before my Father comes,
(And you forget how soon he will be here,)
Or, by your Life, which I prize more than mine,
I'll kill my self.
Phil.
Nay, then I must obey:
And pardon me, my dearest Araminta,
If I, at such a Time of Joy as this,
Can yet have Griefs about me; but I have,
To find that I'm outdone, tho' by thy self,
So far in all the kindest Proofs of Love.
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Ah, could my Death to the whole World proclaim,
How I love more than you; my Pride would be
So great in having it divulg'd that I
Should scarce (I am afraid) accept of Life,
Tho' to enjoy you still.
Phil.
Come then, my dear,
Let's talk no more, but love, love till we die.
Ara.
Let's kill our selves with loving furiously,
And so prevent my Father's future Crimes.
[Exeunt.
Enter Cleon, Agremont, Adelard.
Cleon.
But are you sure the King has sent for him?
Adel.
Yes; to the Scaffold; but the King must know,
It is in vain for Kings to war with Heav'n.
Cleon.
You told us tho' the King would hear this Fact
Examin'd in the Chamber of the Princess.
Adel.
He meant so once, now he has chang'd his Mind.
Cleon.
Come then, we'll scuffle hard before he perish.
Enter King and a Guard.
King.
Gentlemen, who saw Prince Thrasomond?
Agr.
He's gone and please your Majesty, to view the
City, and the new Platform, with some Gentlemen attending
on him.
King.
Is the Princess ready to bring her Prisoners out?
Adel.
I'll go see.
King.
Tell her, we stay.
Cleon.
King, you may be deceiv'd yet;
The Head you aim at cost more setting on
Than to be lost so slightly.
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Mess.
Where's the King?
King.
Here.
Mess.
Haste, Sir, to your Strength, and save your self,
The City's in a Mutiny, fearing for Lord Philander.
King.
Bid 'em go hang themselves.
Cleon.
O, brave Countrymen!
Mutiny, my fine dear Countrymen, Mutiny!
Now my brave valiant Foremen, shew your Weapons,
In Honour of your Mistresses.
Enter Philander, Araminta, and Endymion.
King.
How comes Philander thus to be unbound?
End.
He is as fast as Wedlock, Sir, can bind him.
King.
What means this Riddle?
Ara.
He's my Husband, Sir.
King.
Your Husband, say you? Call the Captain in,
That guards the Citadel; there you shall have
Your Nuptial Joys together: Hear, you Gods,
From this Time do I shake all Title off
Of Father to this Woman, this base Woman;
And what there is of Vengeance in a Lion
Cast among Dogs, or robb'd of his dear young;
The same inforc'd more terrible, and with
A greater Rage, expect from me.
Ara.
Sir, by
That little Life I've left to swear by, there
Is nothing that can stir me from my self:
What I have done, I never shall repent of,
For Death can be no Bug-bear now to me,
Since Thrasomond is not to be my Headsman.
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Sweet Peace upon thy Soul, thou worthy Woman,
Whene'er thou dy'st; for this Time I'll excuse thee,
Or be thy Prologue.
Phil.
Sir, let me speak next;
And let my dying Words persuade you more
Than my dull Life has done: If you design,
Or wish a Wrong to her sweet Innocence,
You are a Tyrant, and a Savage one;
The Memory of all your better Deeds
Shall be in Water writ, but this in Marble:
No Chronicle shall speak you, tho' your own,
But for the Shame of Men; No Monument
(Tho' high and big as Pelion) shall be able
To cover this base Murther: Make it rich
With Brass, with purest Gold, and shining Jasper,
Like Pyramids, and lay on Epitaphs,
Such as make great Men Gods; my little Marble
(That only cloaths my Ashes, not my Faults)
Shall far outshine it: And for After-issues,
Think not so madly of the heav'nly Wisdoms,
That they will give you more for your mad Rage
To cut off thus, unless it be some Snake,
Or something like your self, that in his Birth
Shall strangle you: Think of my Father, King,
There was a Fault; but I forgive it; let
That Sin persuade you to be careful of
Your matchless Daughter; spare but her dear Life,
And I'll surrender you my own with Joy;
Tho' I confess I now could with to live,
For I in her have all this Word can give
To make me happy.
Enter another Messenger.
Mess.
Arm, Sir, quickly, or
'Twill be too late; the City's up in Arms,
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Upon Prince Thrasomond, and swears he'll kill
Him, if Philander be not straight releas'd.
King.
A thousand Devils take 'em.
Cleon.
A thousand Blessings on 'em, and on all
Will take their Parts; I'm sure that I'll make one.
King.
Come, to the Citadel; I'll see these safe,
[Ex. with Philander and Araminta.]
And then cope with these Burghers. Let the Guard,
And all the Gentlemen, give strong Attendance.
[Exit.
Manent Cleon, Agremont, Adelard.
Agr.
The City up! this was above our Wishes.
Cleon.
I, and the Marriage too; now by my Life
This noble Lady has deceiv'd us all:
A Plague upon my self, a thousand Plagues,
For having such unworthy Thoughts of her
Dear Honour. Oh, how I could beat my self?
Preethee beat me, and I'll beat thee again,
For we had both one Thought.
Agr.
No, 'twill lose time.
Cleon.
Are your Swords sharp? Well my dear
Countrymen, what d'ye lack? if you continue and
fall not back upon the first broken Shin, I'll have you
chronicled and chronicled, and cut and chronicled, and
all to be prais'd, and sung in Sonnets and new Ballads,
that all Tongues shall troul you in Sæcula Sæculorum,
my kind Can-carriers.
Adel.
What if a Toy take 'em in th' Heels now,
and they run all away, and cry the Devil take the
hindmost?
Cleon.
Then the same Devil take the foremost too,
and souce him for his Breakfast; if they all prove
Cowards, my Curses fly amongst them, and be speeding.
May they have Murrains reign, to keep the
Gentlemen at home unbound in easie Freeze: May the
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worn before sore Eyes. May their false Lights undo
'em, and discover Presses, Holes, Stains and Oldness
in their Stuffs, and make 'em Shop-rid. May they
keep Whores and Horses, and break; and live mew'd
up with Necks of Beef and Turneps. May they
have many Children, and all ugly like the Fathers.
May they know no Language, but that Gibberish
they prattle to their Parcels, unless it be the Gothick
Latin they write in their Bonds, and may they write
that false, and lose their Debts.
Enter King.
King.
A Vengeance take 'em, what a Hum they make!
They swarm like Bees, and (like 'em) buz together:
They have no Sense of any thing but Noise,
And therefore will not hear, but bawl still all
At once.
Cleon.
Oh my brave Countrymen! as I live I will not
buy a Pin from out your Walls for this; nay you
shall cozen me too, and I'll thank you for't.
King.
There is no stopping them, they're grown so strong,
Except they see Philander; one kind Look
Of his would send them home as tame as Sheep:
To me they're fierce as Lions, and they've Reason.
Why should I hope for Help in my Distress,
That ne'er could pity any one alive?
We think our selves so far above Mankind,
That 'tis beneath us to be just or grateful.
Alas, my Faults are numberless.
Cleon.
Yes, and
Your Virtues are so too; for you have none:
King.
I see I must release him now: It goes
Against my Heart to do a virtuous Act;
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Philander hither.
Cleon.
What can all this mean?
[Exit Adelard.
King.
Ah, if we Princes did consider well,
We are but Men as frail as others are,
As subject to Misfortunes, and as mortal;
That if the Powers above have made us great,
'Tis that we should with Justice rule their People;
That Nations were not born to make us Sport,
But we to make them glorious, safe, and happy;
All our Concerns the Gods would favour more,
And Men would all such Kings like Gods adore.
Enter Agremont and Philander.
O, worthy Sir, forgive me; do not make
Both my Offences, and your Wrongs combine
To bring on greater Dangers; be your self,
Still sound amongst Diseases; If I've done
You Injury, I'll make you now amends;
Calm but the People, and my Daughter's yours;
Take her, and with her my Repentance, Sir,
My Wishes, and my Prayers: You shall be,
What you were born to be, King of this Land.
Do not mistrust me; if the least untruth
Falls from me now, may I be struck with Thunder.
Phil.
I will not do your Majesty the Wrong
To doubt your Word; let but the Princess, and
The Boy be free, and I will stand alone
The Shock of all this Rabble; which I'll quell,
Or perish in th' Attempt.
King.
Your Word already
Has done that: Go, fetch 'em hither straight.
Phil.
Then thus I take my Leave, kissing your Hand,
And trusting to your Royal Promise, Sir,
Be not disturb'd: I'll bring you back the Peace
You wish for.
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All the Gods attend upon you.
[Exeunt.
Enter an old Captain and Citizens with Thrasomond.
Cap.
Come, my brave Myrmidons, let's fall on, let our Caps
Swarm, my Boys, and your nimble Tongues forget your Mother
Gibberish of What do you lack, and set your Mouths
Up, Children, till your Palates fall frighted half a
Fathom past the Cure of Bay Salt and gross Pepper,
And then cry Philander, brave Philander,
Let Philander be deeper in request, my Ding-dongs,
My pair of dear Indentures, King of Clubs,
Than your cold Water Chamlets, or your Paintings
Spitted with Copper; let not your hasty Silks,
Or your branch'd Cloth of Bodkin, or your Tissues,
Dearly belov'd of Spice Cake and Custard,
Your Robin Hoods and Johns, tie your Affections
In Darkness to your Shops; no, dainty Duckers,
Up with your three-pil'd Spirits, your wrought Valours,
And let your uncouth Choler make the King feel
The Measure of your Mightiness. Philander,
Cry, my Rose-Nobles, cry.
All.
Philander, Philander.
Cap.
How do you like this, my Lord Prince? These are mad Boys,
I tell you these are things that will not strike their Topsails
To a Foist, and let a Man of War, an Argosie, hull and cry Cockles.
Thras.
Why, you rude Slaves, do you know what you do?
Cap.
My pretty Prince of Puppets, we do know,
And give your Greatness warning that you talk
No more such Bugs Words, or that solder'd Crown
Shall be scratch'd with a Musquet: Dear Prince Pepin,
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I'll have you coddled. Let him loose, my Spirits;
Make a round ring with your Bills, my Hectors,
And let us see what this trim Man dares do.
Now, Sir, have at you; here I hit you,
And with this swashing Blow, (do you sweat Prince?)
I could hulk your Grace, and hang you up cross-legg'd,
Like a Hare at the Poulterer's, and do this with this Wiper.
Thras.
You will not see me murder'd, wicked Villains?
1 Cit.
Yes indeed will we, Sir, we have not seen
one so this great while.
Capt.
He would have Weapons, would he? Give
him a Broadside, my brave Boys, with your Pikes;
branch me his Skin in Flowers like a Satin, and between
every Flower a Mortal Cut; your Royalty shall
ravel; jagg him Gentlemen. I'll have him cut to the
Kell, and down the Seams. Oh for a Whip to make
him Galoon Laces: I'll have a Coach Whip.
Thras.
O, spare me, Gentlemen.
Cap.
Hold, hold; the Man begins to fear, and know himself,
He shall, for this time, only be seal'd up
With a Feather thro' his Nose, that he may only see
Heav'n, and think whither he's a going;
Nay (beyond Sea, Sir,) we will proclaim you, you would be King?
Thou tender Heir apparent to Church Ale,
Thou slight Prince of single Sarcenet;
Thou Royal Ring-tail, fit to fly at nothing
But poor Men's Poultry, and have every Boy
Beat thee from that too with his Bread and Butter.
Thras.
Gods keep me from these Hell-Hounds.
2 Cit.
Shall's geld him, Captain?
Capt.
No, you shall spare his Dowcets, my dear Donsels,
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The Curses of a longing Woman kills as speedily as a
Plague, Boys.
1 Cit.
I'll have a Leg, that's certain.
2 Cit.
I'll have an Arm.
3 Cit.
I'll have his Nose, and at my own Charge
build a College, and clap't upon the Gate.
4 Cit.
I'll have his little Gut to string a Kit with;
For certainly a Royal Gut will sound like Silver.
5 Cit.
Good Captain, let me have his Liver to feed
Ferrets.
Cap.
Who will have Parcels else? Speak.
Thras.
Good Gods, consider me; I shall be tortur'd.
1 Cit.
Captain, I'll give you the trimming of your
Hand-Sword, and let me have his Skin to make false
Scabbards.
2 Cit.
He had no Horns, Sir, had he?
Cap.
No, Sir, he's a Pollard. What would'st thou
do with Horns?
2 Cit.
Oh! if he had, I would have made rare Hafts
and Whistles of them, but his Shin Bones, if they be
sound, will serve me well enough.
Enter Philander.
All.
Long live Philander! the brave Prince Philander.
Phil.
I thank you, Gentlemen, but why are these
Rude Weapons brought abroad to teach your Hands
Uncivil Trades?
Cap.
My Royal Rosicleer,
We are thy Myrmidons, thy Guards, thy Roarers;
And when this noble Body is in durance,
Thus do we clap our musty Murriay on,
And trace the Streets in terror. Is it Peace,
Thou Mars of Men? Is the King sociable,
And bids thee live? Art thou above thy Foe, Man?
And free as Phæbus? Speak; if not, this Stand
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Ev'n to the Lees of Honour.
Phil.
Hold, and be satisfy'd, I am my self,
Free as my Thoughts are, by the Gods I am.
Cap.
Art thou the dainty Darling of the King?
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules?
Do the Lords bow, and the regarded Scarlets,
Kiss their gam'd Goles, and cry we are your Servants?
Is the Court navigable, and the Presence stuck
With Flags of Friendship? If not we are thy Castle,
And this Man sleeps.
Phil.
I am what I desire to be, your Friend,
I am what I was born to be, your Prince.
And what, Sir, say you now?
Thras.
For God's Sake set me first free, and I'll
say any thing; I am so afraid I know not what to
say.
Phil.
I do pity thee. Friends, discharge your Fears,
Deliver me the Prince. I'll warrant you,
I shall be old enough to find my Safety.
Cap.
Prince, by your leave, I'll have a Surfiagle,
And make you like a Hawk.
Phil.
Away, away, there is no Danger in him:
Look you, Friends, how gently he leads; upon my Word
He's tame enough, he needs no farther watching:
Good Friends, go to your Houses, and by me have
your Pardons and my Love.
And know there shall be nothing in my Pow'r
You may deserve, but you shall have your Wishes.
To give you more Thanks were to flatter you:
Continue still your Love, and for an earnest,
Die with this.
All.
Long may'st thou live brave Prince, brave Prince, brave Prince.
[Ex. Philander and Thrasomond.
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Thou art the King of Courtesy.
Fall off again, my sweet Youths, and every Man trace
to his House again, and hang his Pewter up, thence
to the Tavern, and bring your Wives in Muffs; we
will have Musick, and red Grape shall make us dance
and reel, Boys.
[Ex. omnes.
Enter King, Araminta, Melesinda, Alga, Cleon, Agremont, Adelard, Endymion, and Attendants.
King.
Is it appeas'd?
Cleon.
Sir, all is quiet as this Dead of Night,
As peaceable as Sleep. The Lord Philander
Does bring Prince Thrasomond away himself.
King.
I will not break a Word that I have giv'n
In promise to him: I have heap'd a World
Of Grief upon his Head, which yet I hope
To wash away.
Enter Philander and Thrasomond.
Cleon.
My Lord is come.
King.
My Son,
Blest be the Time that I of Right to call
Such Virtue mine. Now thou art in my Arms,
Methinks I find a Salve to my sick Bosom
For all the Wounds I find there; Streams of Grief
I have thrown on thee, but I find much Joy,
That I repent it, issue from my Eyes.
Let them appease thee, take thy Right, take her,
She is thy Right too, and forget to urge
My vexed Soul for what I once have done.
Phil.
Sir, all is blotted from my Memory:
For you, young Prince of Spain,
Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full Leave
To make your honourable Voyage home.
And if you would go furnish'd to your Realm
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Methinks would gladly bear you Company.
How like you, Sir, this Piece?
Alga.
Sir, he likes it well,
For he has try'd it, and found it worth
His Princely Liking. We were ta'en a bed,
I know your Meaning. I am not the first
That Nature taught to seek a handsom Fellow.
Can Shame remain perpetually in me.
And not in others? Or have Princes Salves
To cure ill Names, that meaner People want?
Phil.
What mean you?
Alga.
You must get another Ship
To bear the Princess, and the Boy together.
Cleon.
How now?
Alga.
Others took me, but I took her and him,
As that all Women may be ta'en sometimes,
Ship us all four; we can endure
Weather and Wind alike.
King.
Clear then thy self, or call me not thy Father.
Ara.
'Tis false as Heav'n is true, but what Means
Is left to clear my self? It lies in your Belief.
My Lords, believe me, and let all things else
Struggle together to dishonour me.
End.
O! stop your Ears, great King, that I may speak
As Freedom would, then I will call this Lady
As base as are her Actions: Hear me, Sir,
Believe your heated Blood when it rebels
Against your Reason, sooner than this Lady.
Alga.
I vow the Boy acts his Part full well.
Phil.
This Lady; I will sooner trust the Winds or Seas
Than her. I say, believe her not.
Why think you if I did believe her Words,
I would outlive 'em!
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Forget her; since, all is firm between us;
But I must request of you one Favour,
And will not be deny'd.
Phil.
By all the Powers let it not be the Death
Of her or him, and it is surely granted.
King.
Bear away that Boy
To Torture, I will have her clear'd or bury'd.
Phil.
O give my Promise back, O Royal Sir,
Ask something else, bury my Life and Right
In one poor Grave; but take not from me
My Life and Fame at once.
King.
Away with him; his Doom's irrevocable.
Phil.
Turn all your Eyes on me, here stands a Man,
The falsest and the basest of the World.
Set Swords against this Breast, some honest Man,
For I have liv'd to be the most accurs'd.
End.
Be patient, Sir, I soon will make you easy.
I cannot tamely see your Pain for me;
My hapless Fortune much rather I'll reveal.
King.
Will he then confess?
Cleon.
He seems to say so.
King.
Speak then.
End.
Great King, if you command
This Lord to talk with me alone my Tongue,
Urg'd by my Heart, shall utter all the Thoughts
My Youth has known, and stranger things than these
You hear not often.
King.
Walk aside with him.
Cleon.
Why speak'st thou not?
End.
Know you this Face, my Lord?
Cleon.
No.
End.
I have been often told
In Court of an Euphrosyne, a Lady,
And Daughter to you, between whom and me
There was such strange Resemblance, that we Two
Could not be known asunder, drest alike.
Cleon.
By Heav'n, and so there is.
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For her Sake,
Who now does spend the Spring Time of her Life
In holy Pilgrimage, move the King,
That I may scape this Torture.
Cleon.
But thou speak'st as like Euphrosyne as thou dost look.
How came it to thy Knowlege that she lives
In Pilgrimage;
End.
I know it not, my Lord, but have heard it,
And do scarce believe it.
Cleon.
Oh my Shame! is't possible? Draw near,
That I may gaze upon thee? Art thou she,
Or else her Murderer? Where wast thou born?
End.
In Syracuse.
Cleon.
What's thy Name?
End.
Euphrosyne.
Cleon.
'Tis she!
Now I do know thee: Oh! that thou hadst dy'd,
And I had never seen thee, nor my Shame!
How shall I own thee? Shall this Tongue of mine
E'er call thee Daughter more?
End.
Would I had dy'd indeed; I wish it too,
E'er publish'd what I have told;
But that there was no Means
To hide it longer: Yet I joy in this,
The Princess is all clear.
King.
What have you done?
Cleon.
All is discover'd.
Ara.
What is discover'd?
Cleon.
Why, my Shame.
It is a Woman, let her speak the rest.
Phil.
How! that again.
Cleon.
It is a Woman.
[Exit.
Phil.
Blest be the Pow'rs that favour Innocence.
King.
Lay hold upon that Lady.
Phil.
It is a Woman; hark ye, Gentlemen,
It is a Woman! Araminta, take
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With Joy! It is a Woman; thou art fair,
And virtuous still to Ages, in despight of Malice.
King.
Speak you, where lies his Shame?
End.
I am his Daughter.
Phil.
The Gods are just.
Cleon.
I dare accuse none; but before you two
The Virtue of the Age, I bend my Knee
For Mercy.
Phil.
Take it freely; for I know
It was well meant.
Ara.
And for me,
I have the Will to pardon Sins as oft
As any Man has Power to wrong me.
Cleon.
Noble and worthy!
Phil.
But, Endymion,
(For I must call thee still so) tell me why
Thou didst conceal thy Sex? It was a Fault,
A Fault, Endymion, tho' thy other Deeds
Of Truth outweigh'd it. All these Jealousies
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discover'd
What now we know.
End.
My Father oft would speak
Your Worth and Virtue with a zealous Praise,
Which as I grew in Age encreas'd a Thirst
Of seeing of a Man so rais'd above the rest.
But this was but the Child of Curiosity,
Till Fate one Day brought you to my Father's,
And I was order'd there to entertain you.
Oh spare my Blushes; and yet a Flame so pure
Methinks should cause no Shame.
The only Bliss that ever I propos'd,
Was still to live and be within your Sight.
For this I did delude my noble Father
With a feign Pilgrimage, and drest my self
In a Boys Habit, and understanding well,
That when I made Discovery of my Sex
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By all the most religious things a Maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was Hopes to hide me from Mens Eyes
For other than I seem'd, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sate I by the Fountain,
Where first you took me up.
King.
Search out a Match,
Greatest in our Kingdoms, and I will
Pay thy Dower my self.
End.
Ne'er, Sir, will I
Marry, it is a thing within my Vow:
But if I may have leave to serve the Princess,
To see the Virtues of her Lord and her,
I shall have Hopes to live.
Ara.
Yes, Philander,
I can't be jealous, tho' you had a Lady
Drest like a Page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here. Come live with me,
Live free as I do; she that loves my Lord,
Curst be the Wife that hates her.
Phil.
I grieve such Virtue should be laid in Earth
Without an Heir. Hear me, my Royal Father,
Wrong not the Freedom of our Soul so much
To think to take Revenge on this base Woman:
Her Malice cannot hurt us; set her free
As she was born, saving from Shame and Sin.
King.
Set her at Liberty: But leave the Court:
This is no Place for such. You, Thrasomond,
Shall have free Passage, and safe Conduct home,
Worthy so great a Prince. When you come there,
Remember 'twas your Fault that cost you her,
And not my purpos'd Will.
Thras.
I do confess it, most renowned Sir.
King.
Last join your Hands in one; enjoy Philander,
This Kingdom that is yours, and after me
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All happy Hours be at your Marriage Joys,
That you may govern all these happy Lands,
And live to see your plenteous Branches spring.
By what has past this Day, let Princes learn
To rule the wilder Passions of their Blood,
For what Heav'n wills can never be withstood.
| The Restauration : Or, Right will take Place | |