University of Virginia Library

The fourth Scene

Enter Prince alone.
Prince.
How Nature was deceiv'd, when she made me!
No doubt but her intent, was I shoo'd be,
Free from all manner, of contempt and scorn,
When she design'd, a Prince I shoo'd be born.
Unhappy Planet, under whom this earth,
Received first its form, and then its birth,
Why did'st thou destine me unto a Crown,
Yet make me more unhappy, then a Clown!
For which of all my Subjects, I woo'd know,
Does more then I, unto thy malice owe?
Or rather, why did Love make me presume,
To chuse a lodging, where there was no room?
To strike so deep, into my brest a Dart,
For one, that is not Mistress of her heart?
Ah Heav'ns! have I not reason to complain,
To be a Prince, and yet to sue in vain?
To court my Subject, and to be refus'd,
And by him who I trusted, thus abus'd?
Good Gods! whom with our secrets, shall we trust,
If that our bosom friends, prove so unjust?
To whom shall we our thoughts, communicate,
If those whom we oblige, prove so ingrate?
Had he dealt freely with me, and made known,
His passion to me, but by sign alone:
I shoo'd have had compassion, on his flame,
'Tis ten to one, and nee're have mov'd the same.
Or had I once believ'd, or else but known,
That Love had but possest, her thoughts alone:
By all that's just, I do protest and vow,
I had contemn'd, and scorn'd her long e're now.
I shoo'd have unto Reason, then obey'd,
And by my passion, been not so o'resway'd,
As so against my honour, to commit,
An action of a Prince, so much unfit,
As love a creature, which can find her heart,
To any, the least favour to impart.

Nonantions enters.
Non.
Sir 'tis my fortune still, to b'in the way,
When that the King, has ought to you to say.
His pleasure is, you shoo'd attend him straite,
Implease you, at the privy Garden Gate.

Prince.
It is thy fortune rather, thou mayst boast,
To be a Traytor, what face so e're thou shewst.

Non.
A Traytor Sir? It is so rude a sound,
The name, without the guilt, my soul does wound.
I hope you think not so, what e're you say,
Or if you do, here take away my Day.
Let him not live, a minuit longer Sir,
That does your life, not 'fore his own prefer.
But let the Traytor, an example be,
By your quick vengeance, to posterity.

Prince.
No, no, my friend, 'tis fit thou shoo'dst have time,
For to repent, and likewise know thy crime.
I woo'd not do thy soul, such wrong I swear,
As send it unto Hell, for any Fair.

Non.
For any Fair! good Heav'n who is't I'de know,
Can be so fair, to make me thither go?
Where dwells the creature, that I so shoo'd love,
As for her sake, a Traytor I woo'd prove?

Prince.
Thou know'st her lodging, better then I do,
VVhat ignorance soever, thou may'st shew.
Yes, yes, thou do'st, false-hearted as thou art,
In whom no vertue, ever yet had part.
Thou know'st Francina, do'st not very well?
'Tis there, 'tis there, thy sawcy love does dwell.
'Tis there, 'tis there, thy passion does pretend,
Offending so at once, thy Prince and friend.
Good Heav'ns! who woo'd have thought thou woo'dst have prov'd,
So much ingrate, as such a thing have mov'd:
Consid'ring that to thee, I made it known,
As to a person, I esteem'd alone:
As one I thought, so honest and so true,
It was but just, and reason so to do.
Yet notwithstanding, thou hast dealt with me,
As if I had been thy sworn enemy:
And made no conscience, to betray the trust,
I put in thee, which I conceiv'd so just.
Say? didst thou love her? or, did she love thee,
'Fore thee I chose, my messenger to be?
VVhy did'st thou then, to me not make it known,
That I might have resolv'd, t'have let't alone?
Or if thou saw'st, my passion was so great,
That nought but Death, coo'd take away the heat,
VVhy did'st thou not, in duty to my flame,
Hazard thy life, for to maintain the same?
Prefer thy Princes ease, before thy own?
Had'st thou been honest, thou woo'dst so have done.
Speak man! thou waxest pale when thou shood'st blush,
As if thou car'dst not, for thy sin a rush.
Ah Heavens! what height of wickedness is this,
Not to be sorry, when one does amiss!
Confess thy fault, before I send thy earth,
Unto the place, where 'twas before thy birth.
Repent, repent, thou knowest thy offence,
And at the least, say something in pretence.
VVhat? art thou deaf? or hast thou lost thy speech?
Or does thy guilt, to thee this silence teach?
Speak Traytor, speak, for to prevent my arm,
Before thou answer'st me, to do thee harm.

Non.
Sir were I guilty, as you think I am,
I shoo'd be glad, you woo'd correct the same.
Nor woo'd I speak, your fury to prevent,
Had I this present, any such intent.
It woo'd implease you Sir, be somewhat rude,
Me by my silence, faulty to conclude.
The news you tell me, is to me so strange,
That quite and clean, it does my nature change:
As when some sudden mischief, we do hear,
We pale, and speechless, presently appear.
I must confess, I have Francina lov'd,
And some such thing, unto her likewise mov'd:
But 'twas before your passion, did appear,
And for my motion, I was nee're the near:
For did you know, but with what scorn and pride,
She answer'd me Sir, and my sute deny'd:
You'd pitty me, and say she was too blame,
To use so hardly, such an honest flame:
Which was the reason, I was loth to move,
You may be pleas'd to call to mind, your Love:
For fear Sir, that your business for my sake,
Might not unto your wishes, fully take.

Prince.
That fear was needless, I must tell thee, since
It was a message, sent her from a Prince.
What scorn so e're, she might have us'd to thee,
Was no conclusion, shee'd do so to me.
Go, go, this is a very poor pretence,
And little serves, to colour thy offence.

Non.
Just Heav'n which knows, the hearts of all full well,
Will never send my soul, for this to Hell.
VVere I but faulty, only but in this,
I might presume, I never did amiss.
As for such fear you say, there was no need,
How oft are men, forc't for their Right to plead?
And after all their pains, likewise at last
For want of a good Pleader, too are cast?
Yet did you know, or woo'd you but believe,
The pains I took, to make her to conceive
Her interest, and how you loved her,
You woo'd not judge so hardly, of me Sir.

Prince.
Men judge thou know'st, of things by the event,
And I from her own mouth, pass my judgement.

Non.
From her own mouth! what is't implease your Grace?

Prince.
That thou hast in her heart, the chiefest place.

Non.
That she loves me! Oh Sir it cannot be,
Since she woo'd never marry, she told me.
I will not say your Highness, is deceiv'd,
But I may say, 'tis hard to be believ'd.
D'you think it likely, she woo'd me prefer,
My birth, and fortune, 'fore yourself great Sir?
No, no, 'tis not: whatever she may say,
She does but with my former passion play.
VVomen Sir, too ambitious are you know,
To let a Crown, and Scepter so to go.
Had she a mind, to go to any's bed,
She woo'd no doubt, your Highness quickly wed.
The name of Queen, is such a pleasing bit,
That ev'ry one, is greedy after it.

Prince.
VVhich makes me think, thou hast by Magick art,
Rather abus'd, then fairly got her heart.
For if 'twere otherwise, why shoo'dst thou gain,
That with such ease, which I cannot with pain?

Non.
That I to gain her heart shoo'd witchcraft use,
And so not only her, but you abuse!
Oh Sir, you told me, you woo'd send this earth
Unto the place where 'twas before its birth:
Do, do it quickly, for to rid my pain,
And me remove from that, which you call gain.
Let not this body, which is so possest,
Here in this world Sir, any longer rest;
But send it headlong, quickly down to Hell,
There with its black Companions, for to dwell.
Yet 'fore I die, here on my bended knee,
Do I bequeath Francina, willingly.
All, all the interest, which I have in her,
Henceforward I do give, unto you Sir.
And wish she may so to your wishes prove,
That you may nee're repent you e're did love.
I know she is too poor, a gift for you,
But I can do no more, then I can do.
Since that my life to you, is so suspect,
'Tis fit my Death, shoo'd witness my respect.

Stobs himself.
Prince.
Hold goodness, hold, I woo'd not be the cause,
That thou shoo'dst so transgress, Dame Natures Laws,
As be unto thy self, so much unkind,
Because my passion, is so monstrous blind.
He goes, Ah Heav'ns, woo'd I had now the pow'r,
To keep Death hence, but only for an how'r.
To let him see, before he shuts his eyes,
How this last action, does me sacrifize.
To thank his kindness, and to let him know,
How much unto his vertue, I do owe.
He stirs not yet, good Gods assist my hand,
To raise him up, and likewise make him stand.
I was too blame, by Heav'n I was unjust,
To recompence his pains, with such mistrust.
I feel no breath, there does no life appear,
What woo'd Francina say, were she now here:
To see her dearest Dear, thus speechless lye,
Upon the ground, and I here standing by?
See where she comes, as if she summon'd were
Francina enters.
By his last breath, this instant to appear.

Fran.
I dreamt last night, a very scurvy dream,
Which strange unto my soul, I vow does seem.
Which is the cause, of this my coming here,
Not out of hopes 'tis true, but out of fear.
At twelve a Clock, the hower I do keep,
I was no sooner laid, to go to sleep,
But presently into my thoughts, did come,
My Lord past by this way, unto his Tomb.
Something there was, about the Prince likewise,
But in a fright, I striving for to rise,
Was the occasion, I forgot the rest,
Being at that time, with too much possest.

Prince.
Something of me! good Madam be so kind,
As for my sake, to call it unto mind:
That I may likewise, know my Destine too,
Since that your dreams, do prove so fatal true.
Alas! behold him there, that lieth dead,
And ready for his Tomb, as you have seyd.

Fran.
Ah Heav'ns! my Lord here speechless on the ground,
And on his body, seems to have a wound!
Tell me ye stars, who has this mischief done,
That I may also, him deprive of Sun?
Ah! speak my Lord? and let me not in vain,
Thus with my sighs, and tears, you entertain.
Requite not thus, my former scorn sweet Sir,
Who does your Love, before her life prefer.
Who sorry is, that e're she was so blind,
To have been to Nonantious, so unkind.
Speak, speak, I say, or else give me the pow'r,
Ye juster Heav'ns, to live not out this how'r.
Ah Prince! is this the issue of your flame?
Did you make love to me, to do the same?
To do a thing, s' unworthy of your Crown,
And which will blast for ever, your renown?

Non.
Madam, the Prince is clear, 'tis only I
Am guilty of this murther, certainly

Prince.
Oh kindness 'bove expression! to revive
A purpose only, me for to forgive.

Fran.
The Prince is clear? then speak it o're agin,
For to confirm, he did not do this sin.
For shoo'd I for once hearing, it believe,
I might my self, and hearing too deceive.

Non.
He's clear.

Fran.
And I it is that guilty am.
The Prince not any hand, has in the same.
No, no, the Prince is free, and too too good,
To have a hand, in any Subjects blood.
To me alone, thou doest this murther owe,
For 'twas my self, which gave thee this same blow.
It was my cruelty, made thee dispair,
And so to live, made thee not much to care.
How oft hast thou, unworthy as I am,
Made known to me, the danger of thy flame,
By thy discourse, discover'd unto me,
Thy certain ruine of necessity:
And I more harder, then the marble stone,
Nee're took so much as notice, of thy moane!
Forgive me if thou canst, I prethee now,
For I will for my sin, Religious vow.

Prince.
Religious Madam! do not so I pray,
If you the Dead, make conscience to obey.
He has bequeath'd you, unto me by will,
And I expect, that you shoo'd it fulfill.
Do not to his misfortune, add a worse,
So by resolving, for to take that course.
No, no, dear Madam, but resolve to be
Henceforth more gentles and more kind to me.
What pleasure can you take within a wall?
In whites, and blacks, you must be cloath'd with all?
So early rise, and go to bed so late,
And in devotion, all the day to waite?
To fast so often, and be subject too,
To those, which are inferiour, unto you.
And for the least offence, you shall commit,
B'enjoyn'd a pennance, ten times more then it,
A Crown woo'd be more fitter for you far,
So young, and beautiful, as now you are.
For to command, and not commanded be,
And ev'ry day, feed most deliciously.
Rise at what how'r you please, and go to bed,
And there be sported, till you're almost dead.
Nothing but silks, and sattens, 'bout you wear,
And next your skin, fine cloth instead of hair.
The roundest, whitest Pearl, that can be found,
Either in Europe, or in Asia ground,
For to adorn that neck, which is so white,
Which to behold alone, gives men delight:
When you are sad, have fools to make you mirth,
And to content you, riffle the whole earth.
These woo'd more proper for you, Madam be,
Then such hard lodging in a Nunnery.

Fran.
Sir for your love, and kindness, I do owe,
Unto your Princely bounty, much I know:
Since that my merit, is so poor and small,
I at your hands, can challenge nought at all.
Yet am I not, nor House nor Land to be,
Bequeath'd by Will, unto your Majestie.
My Love is free, now that my Lord is dead,
And I may chuse, where I will ever wed.
As for the life, which seems so hard to you,
There's nought to me, more easie for to do.
To rise up early, and go late to bed,
And nee're with dainties all my life be fed:
Is that implease you Sir, which I do love,
Because 'tis pleasing, unto Heav'n above.
For to be brief, those rigours I prefer,
Before the pleasures, you have told me Sir.
And am resolv'd, forthwith to take that course,
As men do wives, for better or for worse.

Prince.
Since that a Crown, sweet Madam, nor my love
Has not the pow'r, your purpose to remove:
Heav'n be your guide, good Madam pray for me,
And pardon this my importunity.

Exeunt.