University of Virginia Library

Act the Fourth

Scene the First.

Enter King Attended.
King.
How! Crimalhaz up to the Mountains fled,
And with him the Morocco Forces led.
Oh Rebel!

1. Lord.
Sir, he only does pursue
That Treason which you lent him Pow'r to do:
He was your Treasurer, and has made bold
To be too strict a Guardian of your Gold.
All your Crown-Jewels, and your heaps of Wealth,
He in the Night convey'd away by Stealth.
And now—
Encamped on Atlas skirts, he by your Gold
Has Rais'd new Forces, and Confirm'd the Old.
With that he Bribes your Army to his Cause;
And after him new Trains of Rebells draws.

King.
Oh Prophane Gold, which from infectious Earth,
From Sulph'rous and Contagious Mines takes Birth.
It grew from Poysons, and has left behind
Its native Venome to infect Mankind.
Rapes, Murders, Treasons, what has Gold not Don?
If it has ever any Glory won,
Given to Reward a Virtue, or decreed
T'a Pious use, or Charitable deed;
That Sacred Powr's but borrowed, which it bears,
Lent from their Royal Images it wears.

Enter Queen Mother.
2. Lord.
I am afraid his Thoughts fly High, his Dreams
Have little less than Empires for their Theams.

King.
On what Ill subjects I my Favours cast?
Him high in Pow'r, and Honours I have plac'd.
Kings Bounties act like the Suns Courteous smiles,
Whose rayes produce kind Flowers on fruitful Soyles:
But cast on barren Sands, and baser Earth,
Only breed Poysons, and give Monsters Birth.

2. Lord.
Let not too far your Fears your Peace molest:
Perhaps you've mis-interpreted his Breast.
You know that Crimalhaz his High Command
Was formerly in Muly Hamets hand.
He who forced Favours both from Fate, and Fame;
Made War a Sport, and Conquest but a Game.
And therefore he, perhaps, to Act some Deed
Which Muly Hamets glory may exceed.
Has for his Mistress from the common Rout
Of the worlds beauties singled Honour out.
And that which makes him his Designes disguise,
He'll make his flight of Honour a surprize.

King.
No, he's a Traytor, and he'll use my Pow'r
Not to Promote, but to Usurp my Crown.
Pow'r swoln too High destroys, not guards; as show'rs,
Luxurious grown, what they should Cherish, drown.
Our Swords in Loyal hands may act great Things:
Be both the Glory and Defence of Kings:
But when misplaced, those Arms our Ruins be:
As Mountains bulwarks are at Land, but Rocks at Sea.

Q. M.
Can you Rebellion fear, or any thing
Who are my Son, and great Moroccoes King?
If he be False, you can't resist your Fate:
If True, his aim will be to guard your State.
But grant he would some Traytrous act performe,
Accept my Counsel to divert the Storm.
Up to the Mountains strait, and visit Him.
Your Awful sight may check an ungrown Crime;
Out-face his Treason e're his Rise begin:
Men Bashful are i'th' non-age of a Sin.

King.
Madam, your dauntless spirit would breath fire
To breasts as cold as Age. I must admire
Your Courage: but your Innocence mistakes.
Your Goodness in my Cause weak Judgment makes,
Your Thoughts can't Reach the flights which Treason takes.

Q. M.
You've hit my Thoughts: Alas, I am too good,
Treason's a Thing I never understood.
But yet I understand what's High and Brave.
He dares not, Sir, abuse that pow'r You gave.
For he who sav'd my Honour, will guard yours:
That very Argument your Life secures.
Then trust to Fortune, and my Counsel. Go
And visit him; but wear no Jealous brow:
It makes men False to be Suspected so.
I'le be your Leader.

King.
When She leads the Way,
Though it were Death to go, 'twere worse to Stay.
Madam, I'le go. For Taffaletta's Armes
In few dayes March will reach Moroccoes Walls.
If Crimalhaz prove False, at his Alarms
Muly Labas by a forreign Conq'rour falls.
Staying, I tamely Perish; if I go,
I face my Ruine, and I Charge my Foe.
It will more like an act of Courage look,
To be by Ruine met, than over-took.
But at my sight perhaps he in my brow
May something read which his High thoughts may bow.
Kings that want Armes, do not want Majesty.
Heav'n is still Heav'n, though't lays its Thunder by.

[Exit with Attendants.
Q. M.
Go easy Fool, and Dye, and when you Bleed,
Remember I was Author of the Deed.
T'enlarge Fates black Records, search but My Soul:
There ye Infernal Furies read a scrowl
Of Deeds which you want Courage to Invent;
Of which Hells Legends want a President.

Scene the Second.

The Scene open'd, is presented a Prospect of a Clouded Sky, with a Rain bow. After a shower of Hail, enter from within the Scenes Muly Hamet and Abdelcador.
Abd.
Such Storms as These, this Climate never knew:
A Show'r of Hail's an Object strange and new
I fear it does Portend some Dire Event,
That waits upon your Fatal Banishment.

Muly H.
My Country, Princess, and my King forsook:
Stormes to my Miseries like attendants look,
These Tempests Sir, are to my Sufferings due:
When my King Frowns, 'tis just that Heav'n frown too.
But why does my dear Confident intend
In my Misfortunes thus to run my Race?
Must I in my sad Ruine plunge my Friend?
As Drowning men sink those whom they Embrace.

Abd.
Do not my friendships right forbid. With You
I've been a Conq'rour, why not Exile too?
Shall my Esteem grow faint, or my Zeal less,
Because I view you in a Meaner dress,
Your outward Pomp laid by, and Honours raz'd?
The Saint's not less, although the Shrine's defac'd.

Enter Mariamne with a small Attendance.
Muly H.
Mariamne!

Mar.
Yes. And she who led by Love,
Leaves Palaces, and does to Desarts Rove.
Wing'd by that zeal united Souls do beare
Those Stars that smile on Lovers, brought me here.
I for Your sake my wandring steps engage:
Devotion is the rise of Pilgrimage.

Muly H.
Can Love in Hearts such deep impressions make,
That you can for your Wretched Vassals sake
Leave Courts, Pomp, Greatness, and all splended things?

Mar.
Sir, 'tis the same with Lovers, as with Kings,
Thus, if a King should with his Train resort
To a poor Cell, he makes that Cell a Court.
Oh Sir, the most Illustrious Queen on Earth,
Would quit the Pageantry of Crowns and Birth:
And in exchange Mariamnes Exile choose,
Could she but Love as Mariamne does.

Muly H.
Oh my kind Princess; King and Court farewel:
Where painted Honours, & feigned Glories dwell:
Lovers when happy made, have Souls that scorn
Those guilded wreaths which swelling brows Adorn.

Mar.
Mariamne has this glory on her side,
That kindness you call Love, I call my Pride.
For of my Constancy—
Any less tryal I disdain to make
Then shew I scorn an Empire for your sake:
And whosoe're does my rash Flight condemn,
The meaness of their Censures I contemn.
None of my Actions can fit Judges be,
But they who've soul enough to Love like Me.
Lovers alone Loves causes can decide,
As Nobles only by their Peers are Try'd.

Enter to them Hametalhaz disguis'd in the Habit of a Priest, with Villains in the same Dress.
Ham.
Sir, our great Prophet has pronounc't your Fate,
Your Love is doom'd to be Unfortunate.

Muly H.
No Sir, 'tis False, thou doest belye his Name:
Our Prophet is a Lover as I am.

Ham.
Your Mistress too must your Misfortune find.

Muly H.
To her our Prophet cannot be unkind.
She is a Princess.

Ham.
No Titles his eternal will confute.

Muly H.
She is a Woman, and he scorns to do't.
Did not thy Garb protect thee—Mahomet
To wrong her Sex his greatness would forget.

Ham.
No Sex is from ill destiny debar'd.

Muly H.
She is a Beauty, and that Name's her guard.
Good fates as due should be to Beauty given:
Beauty which decks our Earth, and props his Heav'n.
When Heav'n to Beauty is propitious,
It payes those Favours it but lends to Us.

Ham.
Oh, do not Sir, their Oracles decry,
With patience hear the Language of the Sky.
Heav'n when on Earth some Change it does fore-shew,
Does write Above what we must read below.
This Morning, as our Eyes we upward cast,
The desart Regions of the Air lay Wast.
But strait, as if it had some Penance bore,
A mourning Garb of thick black Clouds it wore.
But on the Sudden—
Some aery Demon chang'd its form, and now
That which look't black Above look'd white below.
The Clouds dishevel'd from their crusted Locks,
Something like Gems coin'd out of Chrystal Rocks.
The Ground was with this strange bright Issue spread,
As if Heav'n in affront to Nature had
Design'd some new-found Tillage of its own;
And on the Earth these unknown Seeds had sown.
Of these I reacht a Grain, which to my sence
Appear'd as cool as Virgin-innocence:
And like that too (which chiefly I admir'd)
Its ravisht. Whiteness with a Touch expir'd.
At the approach of Heat, this candid Rain
Dissolv'd to its first Element again.

Muly H.
Though show'rs of Hail Morocco never see,
Dull Priest, what does all this Portend to me?

Ham.
It does Portend—

Muly.
What?

Ham.
That the Fates—designe—

Muly.
To tire me with Impertinence like thine.

Here a Company of Villains in Ambush from behind the Scenes discharge their Guns at MulyHamet, at which Muly Hamet starting and turning, Hamettalhaz from under his Priests habit draws a Sword, and passes at Muly H. which pass is intercepted by Abdelcader. They engage in a very fierce Fight, with the Villains, who also draw and assist Hametalhaz, and go off several ways Fighting; after the discharge of other Guns heard from within, and the Clashing of Swords, Enter again Muly Hamet, driving in some of the former Villains, which he Kills.
Muly H.
Dye Slaves, and may this desart raise a brood
Of unknown Monsters from your venom'd Blood.
My Princess gone, Fortune and Justice are
Sure not so Blind, but they of her took Care.

Enter Abdelcader.
Abd.
Your Princess Sir, is from your Armes divorc'd,
In her own Chariot to Morocco forc'd.

Muly H.
I'le fetch her back, though—

Abd.
Hold! With their fair prize, they've took so quick a flight,
That She is now beyond your reach and sight:
And the chief Leader of those Villains, was
The Old Queens Confident, Hametalhaz.
And all the Story which the Slave did frame,
Was only to gain time to take his aim.
They chose that Garb as what might best prevail,
To gain your Patience, and their Swords Conceal:
But missing of your Blood, your brave Escape
Chang'd his intended Murder to a Rape.

Muly H.
Hell and Damnation, these curst Traytors seize.
But why against such Barb'rous Savages
Do I in vain these useless Curses name;
They are such Brutes, that they want Souls to damne?
No 'gainst my self I should my Curses bend,
Coward so ill my Princess to defend.

Abd.
Oh Sir, do not profane your Conq'ring Sword,
Their Numbers were too great to be o're-powr'd.

Muly H.
How, Numbers! Abdelcader, you mistake;
No Sir, where Love and Beauty is at stake,
True Lovers of their Swords should make such Use,
As angry Heav'n of Threatning Earth-quakes does;
To shake whole Kingdoms, make proud Cities fall,
Not to o're-throw one single Criminal.
Had they been Thousands more, and each man there,
More Feirce than Lust, more Valiant than Despair,
I should have Fought till I my Princess freed,
Though I had waded through the Blood I shed.

Abd.
Sir, the last words she spake that reacht my Ear,
Were, that she did your passions Rashness fear:
And therefore from me bid you understand,
'Tis your kind Mariamnes last Command;
You ne're should see Morocco more, lest there
You should endanger what she prized too dear.

Muly. H.
And am I banisht by my Princess too?
Fates ye have done all th'ill your Powers could do;
Great Minds the pride of Prodigals have Learn'd,
At loss of Pow'r or Crowns are unconcern'd;
But when they're Misers, 'tis in Love alone,
Then their Hearts rend to see their Treasure gon.
Condemn'd never to see Morocco more!
Thus am I doom'd to quit all I Adore:
As prophane Sinners are from Altars driven,
Banish'd the Temple to be banisht Heaven.
Horrour and Tortures now my Jaylours be,
Who paints Damnation needs but Copy me;
For if Mankind the pains of Hell e're knew,
T'is when they lose a Mistress as I do.

[Exeunt.

Scene the Third

the Scene a Tent.
Enter Queen Mother and young Queen.
Queen. M.
No more, dear Madam, Crimalhaz distrust,
The Emperour has found him kind, and just.
His Entertainments, and his Oaths have prov'd,
He has not from the paths of Honour mov'd.
And to appear extravagantly great,
He makes a splendid Mask his this nights Treat.

Y. Queen.
I've been an Actor in such Comick Sport,
When in my Father Taffaletta's Court.
He took delight i'th' represented Spoyls
Of Cyrus, Cesar and Æneas Toyles.

Queen. M.
Has Marriage and a Crown so chang'd your Will,
You could not act your youthful Pastimes still?
Could you your Greatness for one Night perswade
To lay by Majesty for Masquerade?

Y. Queen.
I never yet did any thing so ill
I ought to leave, or good that is not still:
I seem inconstant if you think me Proud;
Inconstancy the guilt of th'untaught Crowd.
Madam, I dare do anything, to show
T'a Throne I change of Place, not Passions owe.

Q. Mother.
I can't suspect a goodness so Divine.
Well Madam, since you fancy the Designe,
For your Diversion, and your Kings, Il'e ask
This Boon, that you'd in person grace the Mask.
What Character and Part you shall present,
We will consult of farther in my Tent.

[Exeunt.
Enter King and Hametalhas.
[Scene continues.
King.
Murder'd this Night and sleeping did you say?

Hamet.
Yes, if for your escape Heaven finds no way.

King.
My Entertainments since my being here,
All shows of Loyalty and Friendship beare.
But does he in that Garb his guilt Disguise
To take my Life, by such a base Surprize?

Hamet.
Goodness may in Mens very Looks be Trackt;
But Traytors rarely look like what they Act:
Nor is this Treason Crimalhaz first Crime:
Your Fathers Bloud was sacrific'd by Him.

King.
By Crimalhaz my Royal Father Kill'd?

Hamet.
That Poyson which your Father drank, He fill'd.

King,
Poyson'd! How was this Murder hid till now,
And by what arts was it disclosed by You?

Enter Queen Mother.
Q. M.
That were too long to tell: th'unhappy Son
This Night too must the Fathers Fortune run.

King.
Is there no Policy, nor Art that may
Prevent his Treason?

Q. M.
Yes I've found the Way.
Accept my Councel, to preserve my Son,
I'le save your Life, your Empress, and your Throne.

King.
But how?

Q. M.
To you this Night he does a Mask present,
A smiling Prologue to his black intent.
And the intrigue of this Dramatique sport,
Is Orpheus his descent to Plutoes Court.
To fetch Furidice from th'infernal shade;
On this Foundation I've this Structure lay'd.
I have in your Name given out—
To shun the trouble of the formal State,
Which does upon your Royal Person waite;
That this nights Pleasure may be freer made
Your Self and Train will be in Masquerade.
Your Death being not designd before you sleep,
Till then you thus will undiscover'd keep,
And that your flight may be more safe and free,
Your Self, and your fair Queen shall Masquers be:
You shall act Orpheus, she Furidice.
When by the Masks design by Hells Command,
Furidice is given to Orpheus Hand,
You the last entry shall his Shape assume,
And in dumb show enter in Orpheus Roome.
Her then you shall lead out, and in that Shape
Pass through the Guards, and to the Town Escape.

Ham.
The Watches Orders are not strict, you may
Without disturbance at all houres find way.

Q. M.
And that he may not miss you till you're gon
Beyond his Reach, I, when the Mask is done,
Will keep the Revels up, till you're secur'd
From his sharp Malice, and his sharper Sword.

King.
Bravely contriv'd.

Q. M.
The Maskers, who already are design'd
To act those Parts, are Mine: and them I'le bind
To silence: That this safely may be wrought,
She shall to Mine, You to his Tent be brought.
They must be kept asunder for our work.

[Aside]
Hamet.
How many Devils in one Woman lurk!

[Aside]
King.
Madam in vain your Pity bids me Fly,
I am in duty bound to stay and Die;
Knowing how ill your Kindness hee'l requite,
If he should find you Author of my Flight.

Q. M.
Leave that to Providence: but grant he shou'd—
He would not sure attempt a Womans Blood.
At least when he considers how t'was don,
A Mothers Piety to save a Son.

Hamet.
I'le lead you where you may all eyes escape,
And privately put on this borrow'd shape.

Q. M.
But in disguise see not one word you say,
Least speaking you the Emp'rours Voice betray.
Enter Young Queen.
Your Empress here? I must instruct her too.

King.
I by our Loves conjure you to pursue,
What her kind Counsel orders to be don;
[to the Y. Queen.
To save your Self, a Husband, and a Crown.

[Exit K. & Hametal.
Y. Q.
What Task is that so strictly he enjoyns?

Q. M.
This Night the Traytour Crimalhaz designs
To Ravish You; and when that fact is don,
To kill your Husband and possess his Throne.

Y. Q.
Oh my Amazement!

Q. M.
Being inform'd what Part
You act, by his accursed Lust enraged,
He with the Masker subt'ly has engaged,
His shape in the last entry to assume,
And seize you in the suppos'd Orpheus room.
Then will he rudely snatch you from the place,
And basely force You to his foul Embrace.
And at that instant, Your dear Lord shall Bleed
By Murderers appointed for the Deed.
Whil'st with the noyse of Drums, and Trumpets sound,
Your Out-cryes, and his Dying Groans are drown'd.

Y. Q.
Inhumane Monster! such a bloody Fact
No mortal sure can Think, much less dares Act.

Q. M.
'Tis but too true: But since—
No other force this Treason can withstand;
It is Your Husband, and your Kings command,
When the bold Ravisher seizes You, to take
This brave resolve for your fair Vertues sake;
Where both your Honour, and his life's at stake.
In your Defence t'act your own Champions part,
With your drawn Dagger stab him to the Heart.

Y. Q.
Could Fate—
This Office on no hand but mine confer?
A Queen, a Traytours Executioner.

Q. M.
You have no leisure to dispute the deed:
You must resolve with Courage, and with speed.

Y. Q.
I'le do't. And though it misbecomes my Hand;
Yet at my Vertues, and my Kings command,
Through all my Veins I feel a manly heat:
And this Heroick act looks brave and Great.
Methinks I hear loud Fame already sing,
She nobly saved her Honour, and her King.

Q. M.
Fame in this Deed our Sex will higher prize,
Proving our Arms Victorious, as our Eyes.

Y. Q.
Yes Ravisher, meet your intended Prey;
Meet her, but meet your Death in the way.
To strike my Dagger home—
Love and Obedience shall that strength supply,
Which Nature does t'a female Arm deny.

[Exit
Q. M.
Let those, whom pious Conscience awes, forbear,
And stop at crimes because they Vengeance fear.
My deeds above their reach, and pow'r aspire:
My Bosom holds more Rage, than all Hell Fire,

[Exit
Y. Q.
Take that Ravisher.

[stabs Him.]
Q. M.
Hold.

King.
By my Morenas hand!

[undisguising himself.]
Y. Q.
Muly Labas!

[Faints away, and falls into the hands of some Women; who run in to her Assistance.]
[Here all the Masquers undisguise, and run in to the Kings assistance.]
Q. M.
My Son kil'd by Her hand!

Crim.
Call my Physitians. Bid my Guards appear.
The Emperour Stab'd, the Queen his Murderer!

King.
Have I for this a too fair Saint admir'd?
And with a more than common Love inspir'd,
Rais'd my bold Thoughts so high t'engross your Charms;
And bounded my Ambition in your Arms?
And must I die as depos'd Angels fell;
'Cause they aspir'd, and lov'd their Heav'n too well?
My death Morena a less pain will be,
Than 'tis to think I owe my death to Thee.
Have I less kindness from your Hands than Eyes,
For they have given me gentler wounds than these?
Your hand, 'tis true, has your Adorer Ki'ld.
'T has reacht his Heart, but not the Love it held.
Your Image cannot from my Soul retire;
My Lov's Immortal though my Life expire.

[Dyes.]
[Here the Young Queen being revived before the last words of the King, turnes and kneels to him.]
Y. Q.
Oh my dear Lord! Stay gentle soul! Oh stay!
Rude Death stand off: his life's too great a Prey!
But Oh he's gon.—
His ravish't Soul is mounting to the Skyes:
But I'le send mine t'o'retake it as it flyes.

[Offers to stab her self, but is detain'd by Crimalhaz; and the Dagger snatcht from her.
Y. Q.
Why does your cruelty my hand debar,
From being a Traytors Executioner?
Good, Gentle, Kind, give me the Dagger back;
For mine—for His—For Heav'n—and Justice sake.
Cannot my Tears and Prayers your heart o'recome?
If my Requests appear too burdensome,
Grant but this one—that pointed Steel restore,
And I'le not live to ask you any more.

Q. M.
Oh cruel Queen, What has your fury done?
That made You lose a Husband, me a Son;
This Realm a King, the World a Virtue, grown
Too fit for Heav'n, but not to go so soon.

Y. Q.
Mother it does a much less wonder seem,
That I've kil'd him, than that you blame the Crime.
Was it not You that arm'd me to this guilt,
Told me I should a Ravishers blood have spilt?
No 'twas by your design my Husband fell;
You in this Masque have over-acted Hell.

Q. M.
Alas! she Raves. See how her rage begins,
But madness always ushers in great Sins.
This is no News to that which she has don;
She was distracted ere the Masque begun.
Alone I saw her in a posture set,
As if she thought of something High—and Great—
Strai't with a more than common rage inflam'd,
She mov'd—star'd—walk'd—storm'd—rag'd—curst—rav'd & damn'd.
With a distorted look she tore her hair—
Unsheath'd her Dagger—and gave Wounds to th'Air—
Her face discolour'd grew to a deep red,
As if her looks presag'd that blood she shed.
Then with an infant Rage, more soft, and mild,
She plaid with madness, leap'd, sung, danc'd, and smil'd.
Why did not Heav'n this Mystery unfold?—
Her frantick Rage, his Death too plain foretold.
Had I foreknown you did this blow design:
To strike his Heart, you should have peirc'd through mine.

Y. Q.
Think you there is a God, or have a Soul,
That on my score dare such false crimes enroule?
I'st not enough that my dear Lord I flew,
But must be Actor and Designer too?
No, barb'rous stepmother, 'twas you alone
Guided that hand, that kil'd your King, and Son.

Q. M.
Observe how idly her wild fancies walk,
But she who acts so ill, as ill may talk.
Who'd think a thing so young, so soft, and Fair,
Could be so kind a Husbands Murderer?
But see when Heaven commands its gifts away,
The Wits and Sences lost, the Soul may stray.

Y. Q.
Oh perjur'd Woman, how can you invent
This feign'd disguise to appear innocent?

Q. M.
'Tis pity Fate such Beauty should misplace,
So stain'd a Heart, and yet so fair a Face.

Y. Q.
Impostor, speak (if Conscience have a Seat,
In Traytors breasts) was it not You whose Cheat,
And Cunning did my fatal hand engage,
At once t'a Murder, and a Sacriledge?
To kill my King, and rob mankind of more
Vertue, than ere dwelt in one Brest before.

Q. M.
Divert thy Frenzy Child, some other way.
Oh, my dear Daughter, try if you can Pray.

Y. Q.
How she disowns that blood which she has spilt!
Treason with her is but a modest guilt.

Q. M.
Our presence will but raise her Passion higher,
T'allay her frantick Rage, let us retire.
But of your Queen see that strict care you keep,
Wait her to her repose, try if shee'l Sleep.
Sleeping, some Angel may be kind,
And in a Dream t'her thoughts her guilt present,
That when this fit is o're she may Repent.

Here the Attendants carry off the King, over whom the Young Queen Weeps.
Y. Q.
Heav'ns since from You the power of Monarchs springs,
Sure you were bound t'have had more care of Kings.

Exeunt all but Q. Mother, Crimalhaz and Hametalhaz.
Q. M.
Now in her Death we must some way invent,
That of his blood we may seem Innocent.
First let her Face with some deep poys'nous Paint,
Discolour'd to a horrid black be stain'd.
Then say 'twas as a mark of Vengeance given,
That she was blasted by the hand of Heaven.
And as a publick Spectacle expos'd,
Let her be in a burning pile inclos'd.
And whil'st the clouded Air reeks with the smoke,
Hire a magician by his art t'invoke
A Train of Devils, who in dreadful forms,
Waited by Earthquakes, Thunder, Winds, and Storms,
Shall rove i'th' Air, and with loud ecchoes houle;
As if they watcht to seize her flying Soul.
Thus will men think, 'twas only she that fram'd
This Treason, and that for the deed she's Damn'd.

Crim.
Bring back the Queen—E're I see Justice don,
I with Morena will converse alone.
Enter Guards leading in the Young Queen.
Great Empress stay, and hear my Story too,
Discourses in whisper with the Queen.
How much I for an injur'd Queen dare do.

Ham.
The Emp'rours acting of the Masquers part,
His Murder, and the management, your Art;
And her feigned madness to our wish succeed.

Q. M.
And more than this to have secur'd the Deed,
Had not Her hand struck home to back her Crime,
The Surgeons I had brib'd to poyson him.
'Tis not the blood of Sons nor Monarchs, shakes
Those resolutions which my Courage takes.
O're Fear and Vertue too, I have this odds:
My Will's my King, my Pleasures are my Gods.

[Exeunt Q. M. & Ham. Manent Crimalhaz & Y. Queen.
Crim.
Since I'm a Monarchs Heir, may I not own,
An equal Title in his Love as Throne?
If you'l accept so mean an Offering,
You shall not want a Lover nor a King
My kindness shall supply—

Y. Q.
Hold Do you mean,
This offer'd service to an injur'd Queen?
How Sir? is my dead King so far remov'd,
That I am past remembrance that I lov'd?
Admit new Courtships, and with the same Eye,
Behold a murder'd Soveraigns Ghost stand by.
I thought your profer'd kindness had been this,
To've sentenced me to mix my blood with his.
To've told me I should Die, and dying have
The Happiness of sleeping in His Grave.

Crim.
Death is guilts due. Yours is a gentler Doom;
You may enjoy my Throne, but not his Tomb.
I know your Innocence and Vertue: You
This fatal Deed from some false Copy drew.
And I begin to think your Mothers Heart,
Has Poyson in't, what-ere her looks impart.
But to revenge a Murder'd King, I'le sound
This Treason, till the utmost Depth be found:
And to such pains the Authors I'le condemne,
That to the World I'le your lost Fame redeem.

Y. Q.
A Kings Revenge so brave an act will be,
That you'l at once Oblige both Heaven and Me.
And his blest Spirit in the Skyes must owe,
A Debt, which he has left unpaid below.

Crim.
That trifling score one smile from you will quit.
And sure you are so kind to pay his Debt.

Y. Q.
My Thanks are granted e're your Suite is heard.

Crim.
I must have more than Thanks for a reward.

Y. Q.
The Glory of the deed requites the pains.

Crim.
But Glory only in your Favour Reigns.

Y. Q.
That Breath I cannot, must not understand.

Crim.
Love needs but little art to be explain'd.

Y. Q.
Love! stop that barbrous Breath. In a new Love,
I stab his Image, and profane his Dust.

Crim.
But not to love your Champion is unjust.

Y. Q.
Your Service I accept, your Love take back.

Crim.
None hate the giver who the present take.
Why can't your Heart—

Y. Q.
—Why can't your Arm revenge
A King, without my Heart paid in exchange?
Know though you basely trade with Loyalty,
My Love my Kings revenge does over-buy.
Go, Mercenary man, I will resigne
His Vengeance to the hand of Heaven, not thine.

Crim.
Let such harsh words be by tame Lovers borne,
My Passion is too rough to bear your scorn

Y. Q.
(Aside)
And must my Heart at such a price be sold?
Thy Seat Usurpt before thy Blood is cold?
This was thy Right, and though thy Death I gave,
Who lov'd the Martyr will the Reliques save.
My Heart by none but thee was ever won.
I'le guard the Trophy, though the Conqu'rour's gon.
But stay—This Grant is to revenge thy Blood,
And on that score no Offering's too good.
I should scorn Love, Life, Honour, Empires,—all
To strike their Heads whose Treason wrought thy fall.
Can you on no less terms my King revenge?

Crim.
No second Thoughts my Resolution change.
Since all I act is only for your sake,
Love must accept those offers Love does make.

Y. Q.
Well Sir, my Heart is won. Your Seige remove,
I condescend to any thing—but Love.
[Retreating from him.
Resign that Heart that's His—
Heav'ns, shall I live to act so great a Sin!
To right a Monarch must I damn a Queen?
Be gon! I hate thee now worse than before.
Descend to thee? No, I that Thought abhorre.
And though his Blood does loud for Vengeance call;
I know hee'd scorn his Queen so low should fall.
Though I have lost a King, I'm not so poor;
The Temple raz'd, the Ruines I'le adore.

Crim.
My Love's too fierce long Seiges to attend:
You've lost a Servant, and your King a Friend.

[offers to go.
Y. Q.
Stay—No, be gon I scorn thee—Yet Sir stay,
Hopes of Revenge so much my passions sway;
That what would I not do for Justice sake.
Where the assault's so strong, here Conqu'rour take—

[Gives her hand
Crim.
Oh my best hopes—

[Kisses her Hand.]
Y. Q.
My—friendship—give my Love!—
My Love my Soveraigns Right I rate above
The Ransome of a world; and if thy hand
Does not perform what his loud wrongs demand;
Thou art his Murderer.

Crim.
But when you see that murderer wear his Crown,
You shall too late repent your haughty Frown.

[Offers to go.
Y. Q.
Hold, ere the pleasures of Revenge I'le want,
Invader, here what e're you ask I'le grant.

Crim.
Oh Charming Excellence!

Y. Q.
But Sir.
Loving too soon, I shall convince the Faith
Of Men, that I design'd my husbands Death.

Crim.
'Tis true, some marks of sorrow should be worn
To please the World; I'le give you time to mourn.

Y. Q.
When you've appeas'd his Ghost, and th'angry Pow'rs
Above; and to his sacred Memory
My last debt's paid, all that I am is yours.

Crim.
My Vow's the same. First to Revenge I'le fly,
With Traytours Blood I'le entertain your Eye.
E're you're my Queen, and wear a second Crown,
I'le build a Scaffold first, and then a Throne.

[Exit
Y. Q.
I've found the way. Oh my dear Lord, though now
Death does embrace what to my Arms is due;
I'le keep—
My Vow to Him, and Love to Thee Entire.
No second King shall to this Throne aspire.
[Points to her Breast.
To Thee my last Debts payment shall be this,
I'le die—and dead all that I am is His.
In thy Revenge when I've Triumphant stood,
On Traytors necks amid'st a Scene of Blood;
Morena's hand shall wash the stain She wears;
As Condemn'd men turn Executioners.
To expiate thy blood I'le let out mine,
And triumph in my fall, who mourn for thine.
Then with a gentle gale of dying sighs,
I'le breath my flying Soul into the Skies.
Wing'd by my Love I will my passage steer,
Nor can I miss my way when You shine there.

Exit.