University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE, Before Gomez his Door.
Enter Lorenzo, Dominic, and two Souldiers at a distance.
Dom.

I'll not wag an ace farther: The whole World shall not
bribe me to it; for my Conscience will digest these gross
Enormities no longer.

Lor.

How, thy Conscience not digest 'em! There's ne'er a
Fryar in Spain can show a Conscience that comes near it for Digestion:
it digested Pimping when I sent thee with my Letter:
and it digested Perjury when thou swor'st thou didst not know me:
I'm sure it has digested me Fifty pound of as hard Gold as is in
all Barbary: Prithy, why shouldst thou discourage Fornication,
when thou knowest thou lovest a sweet young Girl?

Dom.

Away, away; I do not love 'em;—phau; no,—spits.
I do not love a pretty Girl;—you are so waggish;—spits again.

Lor.

Why, thy mouth waters at the very mention of them.

Dom.

You take a mighty pleasure in Defamation, Colonel;
but I wonder what you find in running restless up and down,
breaking your Brains, emptying your Purse, and wearing out
your Body with hunting after unlawfull Game.

Lor.

Why there's the Satisfaction on't.

Dom.

This Incontinency may proceed to Adultery, and Adultery
to Murther, and Murther to Hanging; and there's the Satisfaction
on't.

Lor.

I'll not hang alone, Fryar; I'm resolv'd to peach thee before
thy Superiours for what thou hast done already.

Dom.

I'm resolv'd to forswear it if you doe: Let me advise
you better, Colonel, then to accuse a Church-man to a Church-man:
in the common Cause we are all of a piece; we hang together.

Lor.
(Aside.)

If you don't, it were no matter if you did.

Dom.

Nay, if you talk of Peaching, I'll peach first, and see
whose Oath will be believ'd; I'll trounce you for offering to corrupt
my Honesty, and bribe my Conscience: you shall be summon'd
by an host of Paratours; you shall be sentenc'd in the Spiritual

Court; you shall be excommunicated; you shall be outlaw'd;—and—

Here Lorenzo takes a Purse, and plaies with it, and, at last, lets the Purse fall chinking on the ground; which the Fryar eyes.
In another tone.

I say a man might doe this now, if he were
maliciously dispos'd, and had a mind to bring matters to extremity;
but, considering that you are my Friend, a Person of Honour,
and a worthy good charitable Man, I wou'd rather dye a
thousand deaths then disoblige you.

Lorenzo takes up the Purse, and poures it into the Fryar's sleeve.

Nay, Good Sir; nay, Dear Colonel; O Lord, Sir, what are
you doing now! I profess this must not be: without this I wou'd
have serv'd you to the uttermost; pray command me: a jealous,
foul-mouth'd Rogue this Gomez is: I saw how he us'd you, and
you mark'd how he us'd me too: O he's a bitter man; but we'll
join our Forces; ah, shall we, Colonel? we'll be reveng'd on him
with a witness.

Lor.

But how shall I send her word to be ready at the door,
(for I must reveal it in Confession to you,) that I mean to carry
her away this evening, by the help of these two Souldiers? I
know Gomez suspects you, and you will hardly gain admittance.

Dom.

Let me alone; I fear him not; I am arm'd with the Authority
of my cloathing; yonder I see him keeping Centry at
his door: have you never seen a Citizen, in a cold morning, clapping
his sides, and walking forward and backward a mighty
pace before his Shop? but I'll gain the Pass in spight of his suspicion;
stand you aside, and do but mark how I accost him.

Lor.

If he meet with a repulse, we must throw off the Foxe's
skin, and put on the Lion's, come, Gentlemen, you'll stand by me.

Souldier,

Do not doubt us, Colonel.

They retire all three to a corner of the Stage, Dominic goes to the door where Gomez stands.
Dom.

Good even Gomez, how does your Wife?

Gom.

Just as you wou'd have her, thinking on nothing, but her
dear Colonel, and conspiring Cuckoldom against me.

Dom.

I dare say you wrong her, she is employing her thoughts
how to cure you of your Jealousie.

Gom.

Yes, by Certainty.

Dom.

By your leave, Gomez; I have some Spiritual Advice to
impart to her on that Subject.

Gom.

You may spare your Instructions if you please, Father,
she has no farther need of them.

Dom.

How, no need of them! Do you speak in Riddles?

Gom.

Since you will have me speak plainer; she has profited
so well already by your Counsel, that she can say her Lesson
without your teaching: Do you understand me now?

Dom.

I must not neglect my duty, for all that; once again, Gomez,
by your leave.

Gom.

She's a little indispos'd at present, and it will not be convenient
to disturb her.

Dominic offers to go by him, but t'other stands before him.
Dom.

Indispos'd, say you? O, it is upon those occasions that a
Confessor is most necessary; I think it was my good Angel that
sent me hither so opportunely.

Gom.

Ay, whose good Angels sent you hither, that you best
know, Father.

Dom.

A word or two of Devotion will do her no harm I'm
sure.

Gom.

A little Sleep will doe her more good I'm sure: You
know she disburthen'd her Conscience but this morning to you.

Dom.

But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may have new occasion
to confess.

Gom.

Indeed, as you order matters with the Colonel, she may
have occasion of confessing her self every hour.

Dom.

Pray, how long has she been sick?

Gom.

Lord, you will force a man to speak; why ever since
your last Defeat.

Dom.

This can be but some light Indisposition, it will not last,
and I may see her.

Gom.

How, not last! I say, It will last, and it shall last; she
shall be sick these seven or eight days, and perhaps longer, as I see
occasion: what; I know the mind of her Sickness a little better
then you doe.

Dom.

I find then, I must bring a Doctor.

Gom.

And he'll bring an Apothecary with a chargeable long
bill of Ana's: those of my Family have the Grace to dye cheaper:

in a word, Sir Dominic, we understand one anothers business
here: I am resolv'd to stand like the Swiss of my own Family, to defend
the entrance; you may mumble over your Pater Nosters if
you please, and try if you can make my doors fly open, and batter
down my walls with Bell, Book, and Candle; but I am not of
opinion that you are holy enough to commit Miracles.

Dom.

Men of my Order are not to be treated after this manner.

Dom.

I wou'd treat the Pope and all his Cardinals in the same
manner, if they offer'd to see my Wife without my leave.

Dom.

I excommunicate thee from the Church, if thou dost not
open, there's Promulgation coming out.

Gom.

And I excommunicate you from my Wife, if you go to
that; there's Promulgation for Promulgation, and Bull for Bull;
and so I leave you to recreate your self with the end of an old
Song—and Sorrow came to the old Fryar.

[Exit Gomez.

Lorenzo comes to him.
Lor.

I will not ask you your Success; for I over-heard part of
it, and saw the Conclusion; I find we are now put upon our last
Trump; the Fox is earth'd, but I shall send my two Terriers in
after him.

Souldier,

I warrant you, Colonel, we'll unkennel him.

Lor.

And make what haste you can to bring out the Lady:
what say you, Father, Burglary is but a venial Sin among Souldiers.

Dom.

I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy of the
Church—there is a Proverb, I confess, which saies, That
Dead-men tell no Tales; but let your Souldiers apply it at their
own Perils.

Lor.

What, take away a man's Wife, and kill him too! the
Wickedness of this old Villain startles me, and gives me a twinge
for my own Sin; though it come far short of his: hark you
Souldiers, be sure you use as little Violence to him as is possible.

Dom.

Hold a little, I have thought better how to secure him,
with less danger to us.

Lor.

O Miracle, the Fryar is grown conscientious!

Dom.

The old King you know is just murther'd, and the persons
that did it are unknown; let the Souldiers seize him for one
of the Assassinates, and let me alone to accuse him afterwards.

Lor.

I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for suspecting a Fryar
of the least good-nature; what, wou'd you accuse him wrongfully?

Dom.

I must confess, 'tis wrongfull quoad hoc, as to the Fact
it self; but 'tis rightfull quoad hunc, as to this Heretical Rogue,
whom we must dispatch: he has rail'd against the Church, which
is a fouler Crime than the murther of a Thousand Kings; Omne
majus continet inse minus: He that is an Enemie to the Church,
is an Enemie unto Heaven; and he that is an Enemie to Heaven,
wou'd have kill'd the King, if he had been in the Circumstances
of doing it: so it is not wrongfull to accuse him.

Lor.

I never knew a Church-man, if he were personally offended,
but he wou'd bring in Heaven by hook or crook into his
Quarrel. Souldiers, Doe as you were first order'd.

[Exeunt Souldiers.
Dom.

What was't you order'd 'em? Are you sure it's safe, and
not scandalous?

Lor.

Somewhat near your own Design, but not altogether so
mischievous; the People are infinitely discontented, as they have
reason; and Mutinies there are, or will be, against the Queen;
now I am content to put him thus far into the Plot, that he should
be secur'd as a Traitor; but he shall onely be Prisoner at the
Souldiers quarters; and when I am out of reach, he shall be
releas'd.

Dom.

And what will become of me then? for when he is free
he will infallibly accuse me.

Lor.

Why then, Father, you must have recourse to your infallible
Church remedies, Lie impudently, and Swear devoutly, and,
as you told me but now, let him try whose Oath will be first believ'd:
Retire; I hear 'em coming.

[They withdraw.
Enter the Souldiers with Gomez strugling on their backs.
Gom.

Help, good Christians, help Neighbours; my House
is broken open by force; and I am ravish'd, and am like to be
assassinated; what do you mean Villains? will you carry me away
like a Pedler's Pack upon your backs? will you murther a
man in plain day-light?

First Souldier,

No: But we'll secure you for a Traitor; and
for being in a Plot against the State.

Gom.

Who, I in a Plot! O Lord! O Lord! I never durst be

in a Plot: why, how can you in Conscience suspect a rich Citizen
of so much wit as to make a Plotter? there are none but poor
Rogues, and those that can't live without it, that are in Plots.

Second Souldier,

Away with him, away with him.

Gom.

O, my Gold! my Wife! my Wife! my Gold! As I hope
to be sav'd now, I know no more of the Plot than they that made
it.

[They carry him off, and exeunt.
Lor.

Thus far have we sail'd with a merry gale, and now we
have the Cape of good Hope in sight; the Trade wind is our own
if we can but double it.

[He looks out.
(Aside.)

Ah, my Father and Pedro stand at the corner of the
Street with company, there's no stirring till they are past!

Enter Elvira with a Casket.
Elvi.

Am I come at last into your Arms?

Lor.

Fear nothing; the Adventure's ended; and the Knight
may carry off the Lady safely.

Elvi.

I'm so overjoy'd, I can scarce believe I am at liberty;
but stand panting, like a Bird that has often beaten her Wings in
vain against her Cage, and at last dares hardly venture out though
she sees it open.

Dom.

Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for
you; and thereupon I give you my Benediction.

Lor.

'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's an old Gentleman
of my acquaintance that blocks up the passage at the corner
of the street.

Dom.

What have you gotten there under your Arm, Daughter?
somewhat I hope that will bear your Charges in your Pilgrimage.

Lor.

The Fryar has an Hawk's eye to Gold and Jewels.

Elvi.

Here's that will make you dance without a Fiddle, and
provide better Entertainment for us then Hedges in Summer,
and Barns in Winter; here's the very Heart and Soul, and Life
Bloud of Gomez; Pawns in abundance, old Gold of Widows, and
new Gold of Prodigals, and Pearls and Diamonds of Court Ladys,
till the next Bribe helps their Husbands to redeem 'em.

Dom.

They are the Spoils of the Wicked, and the Church endows
you with 'em.

Lor.

And, Faith, we'll drink the Churche's Health out of them.
But all this while I stand on Thorns; prithe, Dear, look out, and

see if the coast be free for our Escape; for I dare not peep for fear
of being known.

Elvira goes to look, and Gomez comes running in upon her: she shrieks out.
Gom.

Thanks to my Stars, I have recover'd my own Territories
—What do I see! I'm ruin'd! I'm undone! I'm betray'd!

Dom.
(Aside.)

What a hopefull Enterprize is here spoil'd?

Gom.

O, Colonel, are you there? and you, Fryar? nay, then I
find how the World goes.

Lor.

Cheer up man; thou art out of jeopardy; I heard thee
crying out just now; and came running in full speed with the
Wings of an Eagle and the Feet of a Tyger to thy rescue.

Gom.

Ay, you are alwaies at hand to doe me a Courtesie with
your Eagle's Feet, and your Tyger's Wings: and, What were you
here for, Fryar?

Dom.

To interpose my Spiritual Authority in your behalf.

Gom.

And why did you shriek out, Gentlewoman?

Elvi.

'Twas for Joy at your Return.

Gom.

And that Casket under your Arm, for what end and purpose?

Elvi.

Onely to preserve it from the Thieves.

Gom.

And you came running out of doors—

Elvi.

Onely to meet you, sweet Husband.

Gom.

A fine Evidence sum'd up among you; thank you heartily;
you are all my Friends: the Colonel was walking by accidentally,
and, hearing my voice, came in to save me; the Fryar,
who was hobling the same way too, accidentally again, and not
knowing of the Colonel, I warrant you, he comes in to pray for
me; and my faithfull Wife runs out of doors to meet me with all
my Jewels under her Arm, and shrieks out for Joy at my return:
but if my Father-in-law had not met your Souldiers, Colonel, and
deliver'd me in the nick, I shou'd neither have found a Friend nor
a Fryar here, and might have shriek'd out for joy my self for the
loss of my Jewels and my Wife.

Dom.

Art thou an Infidel? Wilt thou not believe us?

Gom.

Such Church-men as you wou'd make any man an Infidel:
Get you into your Kennel, Gentlewoman; I shall thank you
within doors for your safe custody of my Jewels and your own.
[He thrusts his Wife off the Stage.
Exit Elvira.

As for you, Colonel Huff-cap, we shall trie before a Civil Magistrate
who's the greater Plotter of us two, I against the State, or
you against the Petticoate.

Lor.

Nay, if you will complain, you shall for some thing.

[Beats him.
Gom.

Murther! murther! I give up the Ghost! I am destroy'd!
help! murther! murther!

Dom.

Away, Colonel, let us fly for our Lives; the neighbours
are coming out with Forks and Fire-shovels and Spits and other
domestick Weapons; the Militia of a whole Alley is rais'd against us.

Lor.

This is but the Interest of my Debt, Master Usurer, the
Principal shall be paid you at our next meeting.

Dom.

Ah, if your Souldiers had but dispatch'd him, his Tongue
had been laid a sleep, Colonel; but this comes of not following
good counsel; ah—

[Exeunt Lor. and Fryar severally.
Gom.

I'll be reveng'd of him if I dare; but he's such a terrible
Fellow that my mind misgives me; I shall tremble when I
have him before the Judge: all my Misfortunes come together:
I have been robb'd, and cuckolded, and ravish'd, and beaten in one
quarter of an hour; my poor Limbs smart, and my poor Head
akes: ay, do, do, smart Limb, ake Head, and sprout Horns; but
I'll be hang'd before I'll pity you: you must needs be married,
must ye? there's for that, (beats his own Head)
and to a fine,
young, modish Lady, must ye? there's for that too; and, at threescore,
you old, doting Cuckhold, take that remembrance—a
fine time of day for a man to be bound Prentice, when he is past
using of his Trade; to set up an equipage of Noise, when he has
most need of Quiet; instead of her being under Covert-baron, to
be under Covert-feme my self; to have my Body disabl'd, and
my Head fortified; and, lastly, to be crowded into a narrow Box
with a shrill Trebble,

That with one Blast through the whole House does bound,
And first taught Speaking-trumpets how to sound.
[Exit Gomez.

SCENE, The Court.
Enter Raymond, Alphonso, Pedro.
Raym.
Are these, are these, ye Powers, the promis'd Joys,
With which I flatter'd my long tedious absence,
To find, at my return, my Master murther'd?
O, that I could but weep to vent my Passion!
But this dry Sorrow burns up all my Tears.

Alph.
Mourn inward, Brother; 'tis observ'd at Court
Who weeps, and who wears black; and your Return
Will fix all Eyes on every Act of yours,
To see how you resent King Sancho's Death.

Raym.
What generous man can live with that Constraint
Upon his Soul, to bear, much less to flatter
A Court like this! can I sooth Tyranny?
Seem pleas'd to see my Royal Master murther'd,
His Crown usurp'd, a Distaff in the Throne,
A Council made of such as dare not speak,
And could not if they durst; whence honest men
Banish themselves for shame of being there:
A Government that, knowing not true wisedom,
Is scorn'd abroad, and lives on Tricks at home?

Alph.
Vertue must be thrown off, 'tis a coarse garment,
Too heavy for the sunshine of a Court.

Raym.
Well then, I will dissemble for an end
So great, so pious, as a just Revenge:
You'll join with me.

Alphon.
No honest man but must.

Pedro,
What Title has this Queen but Lawless Force?
And Force must pull her down.

Alphon.
Truth is, I pity Leonara's case;
Forc'd, for her Safety, to commit a Crime
Which most her Soul abhors.

Raym.
All she has done, or e'er can doe, of good,
This one black Deed has damn'd.

Pedro.
You'll hardly gain your Son to our Design.

Raym.
Your reason for't.

Pedro,
I want time to unriddle it:
Put on your tother Face; the Queen approches.

Enter the Queen, Bertran, and Attendants.
Raym.
And that accursed Bertran
Stalks close behind her, like a Witche's Fiend,
Pressing to be employ'd; stand, and observe them

Queen
, to Bertran:
Bury'd in private, and so suddenly!
It crosses my Design, which was t'allow
The Rites of Funeral fitting his Degree,
With all the Pomp of mourning.

Bert.
It was not safe:
Objects of pity, when the cause is new,
Would work too fiercely on the giddy Crowd:
Had Cæsar's body never been expos'd,
Brutus had gain'd his Cause.

Queen.
Then, was he lov'd?

Bertran,
O, never man so much, for Saint-like goodness.

Pedro
, (Aside.)
Had bad men fear'd him but as good men lov'd him,
He had not yet been sainted.

Queen,
I wonder how the People bear his Death,

Bertr.
Some discontent there are; some idle murmurs.

Pedro,
How, Idle Murmurs! Let me plainly speak:
The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,
With Arms a-cross, and Hats upon their Eyes,
Walk to and fro before their silent Shops:
Whole droves of Lenders crowd the Banquers doors,
To call in Money; those who have none, mark
Where Money goes; for when they rise 'tis Plunder:
The Rabble gather round the Man of News,
And listen with their Mouths;
Some tell; some hear, some judge of News, some make it;
And he who lies most loud, is most believ'd.

Queen,
This may be dangerous.

Raym.
(Aside.)
Pray Heaven it may.

Bertr.
If one of you must fall;
Self-preservation is the first of Laws:
And if; when Subjects are oppress'd by Kings,
They justifie Rebellion by that Law,
As well may Monarchs turn the edge of right
To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.

Queen,
You place such Arbitrary Power in Kings,
That I much fear, if I should make you one,
You'll make your self a Tyrant; let these know
By what Authority you did this Act.

Bertran,
You much surprize me to demand that Question:
But, since Truth must be told, 'Twas by your own.

Queen,
Produce it; or, By Heaven, your Head shall answer
The Forfeit of your Tongue.

Raym.
(Aside.)
Brave mischief towards.

Bertran,
You bad me.

Queen,
When, and where?

Bertr.
No, I confess, you bad me not in words;
The Dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs,
And pointed full upon the stroke of Murther:
Yet this you said,
You were a woman ignorant and weak,
So left it to my care.

Queen,
What if I said,
I was a woman ignorant and weak,
Were you to take th'advantage of my Sex,
And play the Devil to tempt me? You contriv'd,
You urg'd, you drove me headlong to your toiles;
And if, much tir'd, and frighted more, I paus'd;
Were you to make my Doubts your own Commission?

Bertr.
This 'tis to serve a Prince too faithfully;
Who, free from Laws himself, will have that done,
Which, not perform'd, brings us to sure Disgrace;
And, if perform'd, to Ruin.

Queen,
This 'tis to counsel things that are unjust:
First, to debauch a King to break his Laws,
(Which are his safety,) and then seek Protection
From him you have endanger'd; but, Just Heaven,
When Sins are judg'd, will damn the tempting Devil
More deep than those he tempted.

Bert.
If Princes not protect their Ministers,
What man will dare to serve them?

Queen,
None will dare
To serve them ill, when they are left to Laws;
But when a Counsellor, to save himself,
Would lay Miscarriages upon his Prince,
Exposing him to publick Rage and Hate;
O, 'tis an Act as infamously base,
As should a common Souldier sculk behind,
And thrust his General in the Front of War:
It shews he onely serv'd himself before,
And had no sense of Honour, Country, King;
But center'd on himself; and us'd his Master
As Guardians do their Wards, with shows of care,
But with intent to sell the publick Safety,
And pocket up his Prince.

Pedro
, (Aside.)
Well said, i'faith;
This Speech is e'en too good for an Usurper.

Bertr.
I see for whom I must be sacrific'd;
And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,
I might have found it sooner.

Queen,
From my sight!
The Prince who bears an Insolence like this
Is such an Image of the Powers above,
As is the Statue of the Thundring God,
Whose Bolts the Boys may play with.

Bertran,
Unreveng'd
I will not fall, nor single.
[Exit Bertran cum suis.

Queen to Raymond, who kisses her hand.
Qu.
Welcome, welcome:
I saw you not before: one Honest Lord
Is hid with ease among a Crowd of Courtiers:
How can I be too gratefull to the Father
Of such a Son as Torrismond?

Raym.
His Actions were but Duty.

Queen.
Yet, My Lord,
All have not paid that Debt like noble Torrismond;
You hear how Bertran brands me with a Crime,
Of which, your Son can witness, I am free;
I sent to stop the Murther, but too late;
For Crimes are swift, but Penitence is slow;
The bloudy Bertran, diligent in ill,
Flew to prevent the soft returns of Pity.

Raym.
O cursed Haste of making sure a Sin!
Can you forgive the Traytor?

Queen,
Never, never:
'Tis written here in Characters so deep
That seven years hence, ('till then should I not meet him,)
And in the Temple then, I'll drag him thence,
Ev'n from the Holy Altar to the Block.

Raym.
(Aside.)
She's fir'd, as I would wish her; aid me Justice,
As all my ends are thine, to gain this Point;
And ruin both at once:—It wounds indeed,
[To her.
To bear Affronts too great to be forgiven,
And not have Power to punish; yet one way
There is to ruin Bertran.

Queen.
O, there's none;
Except an Host from Heaven can make such haste
To save my Crown as he will doe to seize it:
You saw he came surrounded with his Friends,
And knew besides our Army was remov'd
To quarters too remote for sudden use.

Raym.
Yet you may give Commission
To some Bold man whose Loyalty you trust,
And let him raise the Train-bands of the City.

Queen,
Gross feeders, Lion talkers, Lamb-like fighters.

Raym.
You do not know the Virtues of your City,
What pushing force they have; some popular Chief,
More noisie than the rest, but cries Halloo,
And in a trice the bellowing Herd come out;
The Gates are barr'd, the Ways are barricado'd,
And One and All's the Word; true Cocks of th'Game,
That never ask for what, or whom, they fight;
But turn 'em out, and shew 'em but a Foe,
Cry Liberty, and that's a Cause of Quarrel.

Queen,
There may be Danger, in that boist'rous Rout:
Who knows when Fires are kindled for my Foes,
But some new Blast of wind may turn those Flames
Against my Pallace Walls.

Raym.
But still their Chief
Must be some one whose Loyalty you trust.

Queen,
And who more proper for that Trust then you,
Whose Interests, though unknown to you, are mine?
Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the Rabble,
He shall appear to head 'em.

Raymon
, (Aside to Alphonso and Pedro,)
First seize Bertran,
And then insinuate to them that I bring
Their lawfull Prince to place upon the Throne.

Alphon.
Our lawfull Prince.

Raym.
Fear not; I can produce him.

Pedro
to Alph.
Now we want your Son Lorenzo: what a mighty Faction
Would he make for us of the City Wives,
With, ô, dear Husband, my sweet honey Husband,
Won't you be for the Colonel? if you love me,
Be for the Colonel; ô he's the finest man!

[Exeunt Alphonso, Pedro.
Raym.
(Aside.)
So, now we have a Plot behind the Plot;
She thinks she's in the depth of my Design,
And that it's all for her, but time shall show,
She onely lives to help me ruin others,
And last, to fall her self.

Queen,
Now to you Raymond: Can you guess no reason
Why I repose such Confidence in you?
You needs must think
There's some more powerfull Cause then Loyalty:
Will you not speak to save a Lady's Blush?
Must I inform you 'tis for Torrismond,
That all this Grace is shown?

Raym.
(Aside.)
By all the Powers, worse, worse, then what I fear'd.

Queen,
And yet, what need I blush at such a Choice?
I love a man, whom I am proud to love,
And am well pleas'd my Inclination gives
What Gratitude would force; ô, pardon me;
I ne'er was covetous of Wealth before:
Yet think so vast a Treasure as your Son,
Too great for any private man's possession;
And him too rich a Jewel to be set
In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.

Raym.
Arm me with Patience Heaven.

Queen,
How, Patience, Raymond!
What exercise of Patience have you here?
What find you in my Crown to be contemn'd?
Or in my Person loath'd? Have I, a Queen,
Past by my Fellow-rulers of the World,
Whose vying Crowns lay glittering in my way,
As if the World were pav'd with Diadems?
Have I refus'd their Bloud, to mix with yours,
And raise new Kings from so obscure a race,
Fate scarce knew where to find them when I call'd?
Have I heap'd on my Person, Crown and State,
To load the Scale, and weigh'd my self with Earth,
For you to spurn the Balance?

Raym.
Bate the last; and 'tis what I would say;
Can I, can any Loyal Subject see
With Patience such a stoop from Sovereignty,
An Ocean pour'd upon a narrow Brook?
My Zeal for you must lay the Father by,
And plead my Countrie's Cause against my Son.
What though his Heart be great, his Actions gallant;
He wants a Crown to poise against a Crown,
Birth to match Birth, and Power to balance Power.

Queen,
All these I have, and these I can bestow;
But he brings Worth and Vertue to my Bed;
And Vertue is the Wealth which Tyrants want:
I stand in need of one whose Glories may
Redeem my Crimes, ally me to his Fame,
Dispell the Factions of my Foes on Earth,
Disarm the Justice of the Powers above.

Raym.
The People never will endure this choice.

Queen,
If I endure it what imports it you?
Goe raise the Ministers of my Revenge,
Guide with your Breath this whirling Tempest round,
And see its Fury fall where I design;
At last a time for just Revenge is given;
Revenge the darling attribute of Heaven:
But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;
Still more expos'd, the more he pardons Wrong;
Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;
To be a Saint he makes himself a Slave.
[Exit Queen.

Raymond
, (solus,)
Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be;
By Heaven, it must not be; or, if it be;
Law, Justice, Honour bid farwell to Earth;
For Heaven leaves all to Tyrants.

Enter Torrismond, who kneels to him.
Tor.
O, ever welcome, Sir,
But doubly now! you come in such a time,
As if propitious Fortune took a care
To swell my Tide of Joys to their full height,
And leave me nothing farther to desire.

Raym.
I hope I come in time, if not to make,
At least, to save your Fortune and your Honour:
Take heed you steer your Vessel right, my Son,
This Calm of Heaven, this Mermayd's melody,
Into an unseen whirl-pool draws you fast,
And in a moment sinks you.

Tor.
Fortune cannot:
And Fate can scarce; I've made the Port already,
And laugh securely at the lazy storm
That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.
Your pardon, Sir; my duty calls me hence;
I go to find my Queen, my earthly Goddess,
To whom I owe my Hopes, my Life, my Love.

Raym.
You owe her more perhaps than you imagin;
Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first,
This hour's the very Crisis of your Fate,
Your Good or Ill, your Infamy or Fame;
And all the colour of your Life depends
On this important Now.

Tor.
I see no danger;
The City, Army, Court espouse my Cause;
And, more then all, the Queen with publick favour
Indulges my Pretensions to her Love.

Raym.
Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,
'Tis granted, nothing hinders your Design.

Tor.
If she can make me blest? she onely can:
Empire, and Wealth, and all she brings beside,
Are but the Train and Trappings of her Love:
The sweetest, kindest, truest of her Sex,
In whose Possession years roule round on years,
And Joys in Circles meet new Joys again:
Kisses, Embraces, Languishing and Death,
Still from each other, to each other move
To crown the various seasons of our Love:
And doubt you if such Love can make me happy?

Raym.
Yes, for I think you love your Honour more.

Tor.
And what can shock my Honour in a Queen?

Raym.
A Tyrant, an Usurper?

Tor.
Grant she be.
When from the Conquerour we hold our Lives,
We yield our selves his Subjects from that hour:
For mutual Benefits make mutual Ties.

Raym.
Why, can you think I owe a Thief my Life,
Because he took it not by lawless Force?
What if he did not all the Ill he cou'd?
Am I oblig'd, by that, t'assist his Rapines,
And to maintain his Murthers?

Tor.
Not to maintain, but bear 'em unreveng'd;
Kings Titles commonly begin by Force,
Which Time wears off and mellows into Right:
So Power, which in one Age is Tyranny,
Is ripn'd in the next to true Succession:
She's in Possession.

Raym.
So Diseases are:
Shou'd not a lingring Fevor be remov'd;
Because it long has rag'd within my Bloud?
Do I rebell when I wou'd thrust it out?
What, shall I think the World was made for One,
And Men are born for Kings, as Beasts for Men;
Not for Protection, but to be devour'd?
Mark those who dote on Arbitrary Power,
And you shall find 'em either hot-brain'd Youth,
Or needy Bankrupts, servil in their greatness,
And Slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest.
O baseness, to support a Tyrant Throne,
And crush your Free-born-brethren of the World!
Nay, to become a part of Usurpation;
To espouse the Tyrants Person and her Crimes,
And, on a Tyrant, get a Race of Tyrants
To be your Country's Curse in after Ages.

Tor.
I see no Crime in her whom I adore,
Or if I do, her Beauty makes it none:
Look on me as a man abandon'd o'er
To an eternal Lethargy of Love;
To pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,
And but disturb the Quiet of my Death.

Raym.
O, Vertue! Vertue! what art thou become?
That men should leave thee for that Toy a Woman
Made from the dross and refuse of a Man;
Heaven took him sleeping when he made her too;
Had man been waking he had ne'er consented.
Now Son suppose
Some brave Conspiracy were ready form'd
To punish Tyrants and redeem the Land,
Cou'd you so far bely your Country's Hope,
As not to head the Party?

Tor.
How cou'd my Hand rebell against my Heart?

Raym.
How cou'd your Heart rebell against your Reason?

Tor.
No Honour bids me fight against my self;
The Royal Family is all extinct,
And she who reigns bestows her Crown on me:
So must I be ungratefull to the Living,
To be but vainly pious to the Dead;
While you defraud your Offspring of their Fate.

Raym.
Mark who defraud their Offspring, you or I?
For know there yet survives the lawfull Heir
Of Sancho's bloud, whom when I shall produce,
I rest assur'd to see you pale with Fear
And Trembling at his Name.

Tor.
He must be more then Man who makes me tremble:
I dare him to the Field with all the ods
Of Justice on his side, against my Tyrant:
Produce your lawfull Prince, and you shall see
How brave a Rebell Love has made your Son.

Raym.
Read that: 'Tis with the Royal Signet sign'd,
And given me by the King when time shou'd serve
To be perus'd by you.

Torrismond
reads.

I the King.

My youngest and alone surviving Son
Reported dead t'escape rebellious rage
Till happier times shall call his Courage forth
To break my Fetters or revenge my Fate
I will that Raymond educate as his,
And call him Torrismond—

Raym.
True; it must.

Tor.
O cruel man, to tell me that it must!
If you have any Pity in your Breast,
Redeem me from this Labyrinth of Fate,
And plunge me in my first Obscurity:
The Secret is alone between us two;
And though you wou'd not hide me from my self,
O, yet be kind, conceal me from the World,
And be my Father still.

Raym.
Your Lot's too glorious, and the Proof's too plain,
Now, in the name of Honour, Sir, I beg you
(Since I must use Authority no more)
On these old Knees I beg you, e'er I dye,
That I may see your Father's Death reveng'd.

Tor.
Why, 'tis the onely bus'ness of my Life;
My Order's issued to recall the Army,
And Bertran's Death resolv'd.

Raym.
And not the Queen's: ô She's the chief Offender!
Shall Justice turn her Edge within your Hand?
No, if she scape, you are your self the Tyrant,
And Murtherer of your Father.

Tor.
Cruel Fates,
To what have you reserv'd me!

Raym.
Why that Sigh?

Tor.
Since you must know, but break, ô break my Heart,
Before I tell my Fatal Story out,
Th'Usurper of my Throne, my House's Ruin,
The Murtherer of my Father, is my Wife!

Raym.
O, Horrour! Horrour! after this Alliance,
Let Tygers match with Hinds, and Wolfs with Sheep,
And every Creature couple with his Foe.
How vainly Man designs when Heaven opposes!
I bred you up to Arms, rais'd you to Power,
Permitted you to fight for this Usurper,
Indeed to save a Crown, not her's, but yours,
All to make sure the Vengeance of this Day,
Which even this Day has ruin'd—one more question
Let me but ask, and I have done for ever:
Do you yet love the Cause of all your Woes,
Or, is she grown (as sure she ought to be)
More odious to your sight than Toads and Adders?

Tor.
O, there's the utmost Malice of my Fate,
That I am bound to hate, and born to love!

Raym.
No more:—Farwell my much lamented King.
(Aside,)
I dare not trust him with himself so far
To own him to the People as their King,
Before their Rage has finish'd my Designs
On Bertran and the Queen, but in Despight
Ev'n of himself I'll save him.
[Exit Raymond.

Tor.
'Tis but a moment since I have been King,
And weary on't already; I'm a Lover,
Am lov'd, possess; yet all these make me wretched;
And Heav'n has giv'n me Blessings for a Curse.
With what a load of Vengeance am I prest,
Yet never, never, can I hope for Rest;
For when my heavy Burthen I remove,
The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.
[Exit Torrismond.