University of Virginia Library

ACT. V.

SCENE. I.

The Camp.
Enter King, Grillon, Guards.
King.
Is Paris yet so stubborn not to yeild?

Gril.
As stiff as Iron with Rebellion steel'd.
If you would make her bend to your desire,
Nothing must make her ductile, Sir, but fire.

King.
What's thy advice?

Gril.
To storm this waspish Town,
And with your Cannon beat her bulworks down;
Then burn 'em in their nests; till they expire
Such flaming breaths, as may augment the fire.

King.
But may not we yet force her to repent?

Gril.
Not whilst this Love is made in ev'ry Tent.
Great hopes! When two great Kings cannot subdue
One Woman!

King.
Why? She also worsted you.

Gril.
She did my Soul surprize, but not defeat;
But Souldier like, I made good my retreat.
I Lov'd as hotly as did he, or you;
Nay, faith, as much as both of you could do.
Yet I maintain'd my spirit at its hieght,
And cast her by, when I perceiv'd a slight.

King.
A slight, a favour is to what I try!
I see a Rival, more belov'd than I:
But she shall now Love me, or cast him by.
Wait her in Grillon.

Gril.
Sir, I am not inclin'd
There to pay service, where no Love I find;
But I'l send Larchant in, whose mean Soul moves
So low, as to help all men in their Loves.

[Exit. Grillon.
King.
Has all my Love and Courtship then prov'd vain?
If any thing, this may my Love restrain.
'Tis just, her scorns with scornings to requite,
And answer all her slightings with a slight.
And yet for all her scorns, I yet would Love,
Would she as scornful unto others prove.
But to be triumph'd o'r is such a thing,
That common Lovers scorn, much more a King.

Enter Larchant, Gabriel, Armida, Revol.
Gab.
Whilst you are justly fighting for your Crown,
Such mean acquests as I, you should not own.
You ev'n should blush; and then that blush should be
Asham'd it self, that it did blush for me.

King.
Let fortune, as she please, dispose of Crowns,
I'm more concern'd in Madam Gabriels frowns.
Madam, no time, no nor Resolves can ease,
Or calm my thoughts, which rage like winter Seas.
Love's Pinnace in this Voyage needs must fail,
'Twill be o'rborn soon with too large a sayl.
Hope sometimes fills a thought, like a swell'd wave,
Which breaks, and soon is to its self a Grave.

Gab.
You have before with storms of Love been tost;
Yet both the danger, and the thoughts are lost.

King.
My former Love was like a kindly heat,
Which healthful Bodies do by Nature get;
And tho sometimes unto a blaze it came,
Yet as Love fed, it also quencht the flame.
But this is wild-fire in my breast, I fear,
'Twill always burn, I feel it flaming here.
Yet this my greatest torment needs must prove,
Navar shares deepest in your thoughts and Love.

Enter Navar, Plessis.
Nav.
This is not fair! Kings should such arts decline.
I'l deal more plainly tho; this Lady's mine.

[Hands her.
King.
Is she your Queen?

Nav.
Nor is she Queen to you.

King.
But she's my Subject, and so are you too.

Nav.
Talk not of Subject, Sir; I am a King;
And that great Name does such resentments bring,
If I affronted be—

King.
What will you do?

Nav.
I'l stake the Lillies betwixt me and you.

King.
You venture boldly.

Navar.
Sir, I have a share;
You thought so too, when you sent for me here.

King.
Upbraid me not, Sir, with your aid, be gone:
I scorn your help, and can be King alone.

Nav.
Well, Sir, I go, but I will have mine own.
Who'l stop me?

[Hands his Sword.
Larch.
That must all.

[Steps in with his Guards.
Ples.
Pray, Sir, forbear;
[To Navar.
Your life's in danger else, his Guards are here.

Gab.
Dare not you me, Sir, with my self intrust?
You cannot sure believe I'l be unjust.
[To Navar.
O, Sir, if that you will not force forbear;
I'l end this Quarrel with my Dagger here.

[To the King.
Nav.
Sir, I have Guards too, and can show you sport:
You will not murder me too in your Court?

King.
'Tis in your choice. But, Sir, she shall not go.
I'm King; and will not be control'd by you.

Nav.
Take notice, Sir, I leave her to your trust;
I can be friendly, if you can be just.

[Exit. Navar, Plessis.
Rev.
Think of the ruin that may fall to France,
If any diff'rence 'twixt you two should chance.
Tho she be ne'r so fair, she cannot prove
Worthy your anger, tho she may you love.

King.
Experienc'd Judges only should condemn;
And none but Lovers should consult this Theme.
Your Merits, Madam, you should not confine;
She off'ring to go.
Since Saints at their Adorers ne'r repine:
The greater number cellebrates the shrine.
Please then his services and mine to prove,
And Crown his hopes who shows the greatest Love.
[Exit. Gabriel and Armida.
Larchant, attend her to the Town with care;
Wait on her humbly, strictly guard her there;
Mayn and the League less than Navar I fear.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Covent of Jacobines.
Enter Commolet, Burgoin.
Burg.
The Sorbon with grave Judgement and Advice,
Have by a Publick Act asserted this:
Since Valois does with Hereticks agree,
Abets and sides with 'em, all Frenchmen be
Fro'th' Oath of Fealty and Allegiance free.

Com.
Are all hands crampt? and all Souls palsi'd to;
Past sense of what we suffer? Surely no.
Can the dull Dutchmen make an Orenge bleed?
And th' fiery French tremble at such a deed?
In vain we from their Armies seek supply;
Rather than fail we will our Covents try.

Burg.
One of my Covent (but yet taught by me
What glorious Crowns are their rewards, that free
Their Country and the Church from tyranny;)
A glorious Project did to me reveal,
Inspir'd (no doubt) with a fierce heavenly zeal.

Com.
Have you confirm'd his thoughts?

Bur.
His zeal's so bold
That all those Mountains, that go big with gold,
Could not his resolution now seduce.

Com.
Yet for all that let's keep him to the use:
Young men, we know, their Passions fall and rise,
As th'object is presented to their Eys.
Those two grand Scenes of horrour and of blisse,
(Which help to mould the souls of Novices)
Let us present unto his wondring view.

Bur.
They both are ready here and painted new.
Enter Jacob Clement.
Welcome my Son.

Clem.
I wait here with intent
To beg your blessings and incouragement.

Bur.
My Son! that blessing freely claim thy own,
Which Father Isaac gave his youngest son.
Thou shalt escape; trust son, to my presage;
And Prophesies 'tis known have blest my age.
Ha! son! what say'st thou to the glorious Fact?

Clem.
But shall I merit Heaven by the Act?

Burg.
Thou know'st a Doctrine I have often spoke,
How curious Pictures give a smarter stroak
Upon our fancies, then dull Doctrines can;
These touch the outward, those the inward man,
Behold, my Son, (what thou hast often heard)
An Antipast of joys and of reward.

Shows a Scene of Paradice.
Clem.
Who would not hazards tempt and torture dare,
To merit but the least of glories there?

Com.
What heav'nly flames his rosie Cheeks reveal?
Flusht in the face with inward heat of zeal!
I see thou art resolv'd! I plainly see't;
Thy Stature's taller, and thy Mein more great.
Thus when the Deities did Priests inspire,
They both exalted Soul and Body high'r.
If thou this glorious attempt survive,
(And Heav'n will sure make its own bus'ness thrive)
Abbots and Bishops at thy feet must fall,
As is but due unto a Cardinal.
But if thou dy'st, no Cherubim can come
Near to that Throne, design'd for Martyrdome.
Roses and Lawrels then must twist in one
T'adorn thy brow; both glories thou maist own
Of Militant and of Triumphant Crown.

Clem.
O let me go, each tedious minute's stay
Robs me of glory, just in Heav'ns high-way!

Com.
Thy soul is fervent now, my hopeful Son!
Red-hot with zeal, fit for impression:
But if it cool, 'twill get a stubborn frame,
Not fit for any Furnace but Hells flame.

Clem.
The terrour of those flames cannot prevail,
Where all those bright alluring glories fail.

Burg.
I'l soon convince thee, and will now disclose
Here to thy sight a horrid Scene of Woes.

Scene of Hell.
Clem.
Cold drops of sweat condens'd by my sad fears,
Like Isicles, hang on my brows and hairs!

Com.
O! Son imagine but a Bed of Fire;
The Curtains flames; the Bed-cords burning Wire;
If thou wert bound unto this Bed all day,
And Fiends with red-hot Pinchers pluck away
Thy nervous parts; yet to renew thy pain,
With boyling Sulphur, glew 'em on again;
Thou'lt say this is intollerable! But oh!
What horrour to Eternities of woe?

Clem.
O, Sir, forbear! My soul away does faint!
Your sad description has out done the paint.
Rather then hazard an eternal pain,
I will my purpose in short time obtain;
—Tho for a thousand thousand years
I live in torments and cannot be slain.

SCENE. III.

The Camp.
King, Revol, Guessle, Grillon, an Officer bringing at another door Chateauneuf and Bonneval.
Offic.
These Ladies, Sir, were flying to the Town.

King.
It seems then, Madam, you the League will own.

Chat.
The motion, Sir, to Nature did belong;
For all things are inclin'd to fly from wrong.
Beside 'twas reason did my flight procure
For hopeful good, from Ills that were too sure.

King.
Where Nature, and where Reason is so known,
You should the force of stronger workings own.
For what can Nature, what can Reason move
(Gown'd-Councelours!) against that Tyrant Love?
Who like Usurpers, in their new-got throne,
Despise all other Laws, beside their own.
Then Chateneuf thou merciful shouldst be;
Your last Song proves too true a Prophecy,
And I love one, alas, who loves not me.

Chat.
Without help pity, Sir, does little good;
Kind words to famisht men are slender food.
It like repining looks, at Heavens decree;
For her just scorns have vindicated me.
And justice now has equal Passion mov'd;
You love where hated, and you hate where lov'd.

Enter an Officer.
1 Offi.
To arms! to arms! the vigilence of Mayn
By our disorders did advantage gain,
And has our late disserted trenches ta'n.

Enter another.
2 Offic.
O Sir!

Gues.
What is the news?

2 Offi.
O, Sir, Navar.
Has some intentions that may cause your fear.

King.
'Gainst us he never will his Arms advance;
His veins hold too much of the blood of France.
Grillon! I leave this bus'ness to thy care;
Tho not in love, yet thou hast skill in War.

Enter a third Officer.
3 Offi.
The Camp they've enter'd, and our Guards now force:
All's in confusion!

Gril.
I'l to th' Guards of Horse;
And at the head of them will swiftly fly,
Disorder all their ranks, or bravely die.
[Exit Grillon.

Enter another.
4 Offi.
Navar has quit his Post, and now stands still,
Drawn in Battalia on the neighb'ring Hill,
In view of all our Camp. His glittering Arms
That once assisted us, now threaten harms.
So Clouds, that promis'd once a fruitful birth,
O'r heated, send down Lightning to the Earth.

Enter Larchant.
King.
Larchant, what news?

Lar.
O, Sir, we're all undone!

King.
Where's Gabriel?

Lar.
Alas, Sir, she is gone!

King.
Coward! Thy life to keep, and charge to lose.

Lar.
What could I do against a thousand foes?

King.
Had Grillon been but there, he'd routed all.

Lar.
O, Sir! Brave Grillon's lost, I saw him fall.

Rov.
Have patience Sir.

[King much afflicted.
King.
O! 'Twould an Angel vex,
To loose at once the gloryes of each Sex.

A charge. Souldiers flying, and cry Arm, arm, arm. Kings Guards beat, himself just overcome; Enter Navar and interposes 'twixt the King and their Weapons, and beats 'em off. Then turns to th' King.
Nav.
Howe're you deal with me, Sir, you are free:
If still you can, you may unmindful be.

[Pursues 'em.
King.
I in his gen'rous favour well might boast,
If Grillon and my Gabriel were not lost.
Since two such blessings are to me deny'd,
He had been kinder to have let me dy'd.
Grillon and Gabriel in one hour opprest,
Whose worth two several Ages might have blest.
Afflictions presse upon my soul too far;
I never can hope more from Love, or War.
The Court is broke—It has no more to boast.
Since all its beauty, all its Valour's lost.
[A shout within.
What shouts are those? what joys can now arrive.
Since they are dead?

Enter Grillon bloody, leading Gabriel.
Gril.
Death! Sir, we're both alive.
Both of us in our gallantries appear,
I in the richest Skarlets Soldiers wear.
She in those blushes far more brave than I.
Whose Skarlets are of a more lasting dye.

King.
What miracle has brought you here again?
Whoe're it be that sent you, tho Du Mayn;
I'l grant him any thing he can pretend,
And from this minute be his faithful friend.

Gab.
We take you at you word, Sir.

King.
Let us hear,
Who is this gen'rous Heroe.

Gril.
'Tis Navar.
Bury'd 'mongst Enemys I had o'rcome,
(For of their Carkasses I'd made a Tomb)
He like an Angel did their Troops invade,
And cut his passage with a shining Blade.
Like Ghosts the Enemy before him flyes,
And he made Grillon from the dead to rise.

Gab.
He fre'd me too; else I had not been here.

King.
How! could Navar be your Deliverer,
And send you back to me?

Gab.
He said his trust
Was firm in you, cause generous and just:
That your great soul would all its pow'rs unite,
To quit just scores and services requite.

King.
Brave man! thou art too great to be exprest;
Thy soul's too mighty for a mortal breast.
None, none, but such a Hero could bestow
His Love on's Rival, and a life on's Foe.
He in one day so generous did prove,
Freely to give my Life, my Friend, my Love.
My boistrous Passions ought now to retreat,
And I, by his example, must be great.

Enter Navar putting up his Sword, and Plessis, and Guards.
Nav.
Sir, here I come humbly to beg of you
T'accept those services which were your due,
And tho with that great honour they are grac'd,
They'l but attone for my offences pass'd,

King.
Sir, I was passionate as well as you.

Gril.
Death, who can tell the faultiest of the two?

Nav.
Nature in all our souls sows precious seeds.
Vertues are flowers, and Vices are the Weeds.

Gril.
Your souls (those curious Gardens) are not free;
But you your passions have, as well as we.

King.
We were not men else: Sir, to let you know
That I can be as generous as you:
Of your three Presents here I thus dispose,
My life and Grillon I will only chuse.
This third so rich a recompence will be,
Points to Gab. and gives her.
That with one favour here, I pay for three.

Nav.
This royal gift contains so vast a sum,
It pays for all my services to come.

King.
Dear Chateneuf! thou formerly we'rt given
To acts of mercy; imitate then Heaven.
Forgiveness (without crimes) had never been;
As Sun-beams, after Clouds, more chearful seen.
My roving Heart, neglectful of its rest,
Forsook the lovely Palace of your breast.
Then Idly for another rang'd about,
And found one there, but justly was shut out.
[Points at Gab.
Th' afflicted Prodigal does home retire,
Stript from all vanities of loose desire,
Half-starv'd it begs refreshment at your fire.

Chat.
'Tis only Pitty now that can me move.

King.
Let me gain Pitty, and I'l merit Love.
Nor can you doubt my Passion to be true;
Since I leave Gabriel and return to you.

Gril.
In all my Love designs yet I am crost.

[To Bonneval.
Bon.
I scorn a Gamster that to all has lost.

Gril.
My Title's forfeit then to womankind!
Yet I a nobler Mistress hope to find.
'Tis Madam, Honour: she delights in War;
She is a Mistress worth contending for.
This Leaguer-Lady (for in Camps she's bred)
Does all the Beauties of the Court exceed.
She asks no Riches, but those gain'd in Wars;
Wounds, for her Joynter; for her Jewels, Scars.
Vict'ry and Fame she does for Portion yield;
At last, her Marriage bed, some well fought Field.
And then to prove her Virgin vertue good,
Her Mayden-head is alwayes got in Blood.

Nav.
Such a description and so drawn to th' Life,
Plainly declares th' hast gain'd her to thy Wife.
Now I've more hopes than e're I had before;
Since, Grillon, thou wilt rival me no more.

Gril.
Not, Sir, in Love: troth, 'tis not worth the while;
Love's favours are but like an April smile,
Clouded each day, or wept away in showers.

King.
But, Sir, you better know to use your hours.
[To Navar.
It is a maxime amongst Lovers known,
All time is lost, but when they are alone.

[Takes out Chateauneuf.
[Exeunt omnes præter Navar and Gabriel.
Nav.
'Tis a great truth of which we make small use.
Why should we such a precious treasure lose?
We are not yet alone.

Gab.
Here's no one by.

Nav.
Too many, Madam; since there's you and I.

Gab.
I'l then withdraw and leave you here alone.

Nav.
You'l leave but half of me, when you are gone.

Gab.
I understand you not.

Nav.
Ah! this does prove
You are unknowing in the rules of Love.
We talk, we look, we touch, yet still are poor,
And 'midst of such enjoyments, long for more.
There is a thing (we know not) call'd delight,
Nor ever shall, until our Souls unite.
Love is in Union plac'd: And whilst we're two,
We Love not, we, alass, but only woo!

Gab.
I know not then how Lover's souls can joyn,
Unless when mine is yours, and yours is mine.

Nav.
How can we at this distance gain such blisses,
Unless we breath 'em mutually in chast kisses?
Madam, when Heav'n does Soul and Body joyn,
O! that is Love! And that Love is divine.

Gab.
But whilst our souls alternately rejoyce,
And rest contented in their purer choice?
Why should our Bodies, with their sensu'l weight
Retard our Souls in their more active flight?

Nav.
Madam, 'tis true; our glorious souls præside
Our Bodies, and our greatest actions guide:
No Love within the Body can begin
Without assistance from that God within.
Yet both must act whilst they on Earth reside;
Their faculties are vainly else imploy'd.

Gab.
My Love (as lasting as my soul) receive;
For I no mortal thing to you would give.
You more oblig'd me than the World can do;
And by that rule I would be thankful too.

Nav.
You in your nice distinctions cruel prove,
To keep the Body and bestow your Love:
Like those who rich Estates and Jewels give,
Yet will not yield possession whilst they live.

Gab.
To the most precious gift I was inclin'd;
Because 'till Death, Love cannot be resin'd.

Nav.
That credit Love has lost, let us restore,
And by our Loves show what it was before.
Love and the World together did begin,
—And did out-shine the Sun—
—Before it clouded was with sin.
Such pure, such unmixt joyes our souls shall swell,
As Virgins guess and Saints can only tell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE. IV.

The Presence Chamber.
Enter King, Revol, Grillon, Larchant, Guards.
Gril.
What makes you sad, Sir?

King.
O! A dream last night;
Methought the Room was silver'd o'r with Light.
But such a light as darted gentle beams;
As clear and cool as those that glide o'r streams.
The Roof seem'd open and so seem'd the sky;
From whence a shining light did more than fly.
It hover'd o'r my Head; when soon there came
This Apparition through a door of flame.
The Chariot was less bright than his Attire;
His Lips were bloody, and his Eyes like fire.
He in his right hand held a flaming Blade;
Threatning me thus, he thundred out and said
My name is Vengeance, and I must be paid.

Rev.
To look for truth from Dreams is full as vain,
As to hope counsel from a crazy brain.
Sleep is the Stage, and Fancy makes the Play;
The thoughts at night; act what they conn'd by day.
A Dream's a Play, Sir, and a Play's a dream;
Both aëry Descants of an idle Theme.

King.
What e're this Vision may to thee appear,
I'm sure it makes a Deep impression here.
The threats of Vengeance most to those belong,
Who use that pow'r Heav'n gave 'em to do wrong.
One I committed, which wounds deeply here;
[Points to's breast.
I mean the bus'ness of the Massacre.
'Twas in this Room, where we did it conclude,
I well remember in this place I stood;
I hate it since; methinks it smells of blood.

[Enter Guessle.
Gues.
A youth, Sir, seiz'd by th'Guards, I now have brought,
But his chief bus'ness, I have vainly sought.
I took him for a spy; and all means try'd
To trap him, but he all things well apply'd.
He has Instructions, which he'l tell to none,
Unless unto your Majesty alone.

King.
Bring him in, Larchant.

[Exit. Larchant.
Gues.
Sir, he says, he's sent
By divers Friends, and the first President.
Who, if your Majesty appoint a day,
Thorough a Port your Forces will convey.

Enter Larchant, Clement pressing to the King.
Larch.
Stay, Fellow, where you are, why do you thrust?

Gues.
Speak out; here's none, but whom the King will trust.

Clem.
Pardon me, Sir, my bus'ness is more great,
Than either he, or you imagine yet.

King.
Let him come near.

[He comes to th' King.
Gril.
I know not what, I doubt.

King.
Now thy chief bus'ness speak; but speak more out.

Clem.
This is my bus'ness, Sir.

As the King leans to him, he stabs him.
King.
O! I am slain!
Take thy Knife, Villain, thus and thus again.

Takes the Knife out of his wound, and stabs him.
Rev.
Run for the Surgeons soon.

Gril.
Damn'd Rogue! Take that.

[Runs him through, he falls.
Gues.
How, kill'd?

Rev.
O! You have done you know not what.
We ne'r shall know th' Abettors of the Plot.

Clem.
Your hands have seal'd the bargain now; and given
Me just possession of my purchast Heaven.

[Dies.
Gril.
How feel you, Sir, yourself. Is the danger past?

Gues.
Where are these Surgeons? They make little hast.

King.
I feel no pain, but hold it least it bleed.

Rev.
O more than hellish, execrable deed!

[Exeunt.
Confus'd running over the Stage, by Chirurgions, &c. and Guards marching after Grillon.
Enter Guessle, Plessis.
Gues.
All will be well, I hope, if he get rest;
The Surgeons say all danger then is past.
They have great hopes it is a slanting stroak
—Then his small pain
Makes 'em to hope, his Bowels are not broke.

Ples.
May Heav'n confirm it. Whilst we here attend,
Methinks the time we cannot better spend,
Than to observe what I did lately hear.

Gues.
What was't about?

Ples.
About the Massacre. Viz.
King Charls and's Mother (for 'twas in their Reign)
The Cardinal of Guise and of Lorrain,
The Duke of Anjou (who is now our King)
Whom Guise into the horrid Plot did bring;
Those six consulted and pronounc'd the doom;
And, pray observe it, in this very Room.
Vengeance is terrible; but 'tis divine:
You know by whom 'tis said, Vengeance is mine.
First, Charls began, cut off in's very prime,
And by a judgement suited to the crime:
He dy'd in blood, who living shed such store;
And then was plung'd, nay drown'd in his own Gore.
The fire of Vengeance (which none can restrain)
Did melt the Glue that cimented each vain;
Those little Channels quickly made their way
To th' Brooks, those to the River, those to th' Sea;
Which overflow'd like an impetuous Tide,
And did thro' th' sluices of his Body glide.

Gues.
Then follow'd next the old Priest of Lorrain,
Who Christians had for Sacrifices slain.

Ples.
His punishment was also in his blood;
Not by an overflowing of the flood;
But heated by some mistick fire within,
It boil'd away i'th' Caldron of his skin.
Pale Ghosts before his dying Eyes did swim,
They first accus'd and then distracted him.
He raging dy'd!—
His last breath like a storm fro's breast did fly,
And met a greater tempest in the sky.

Gues.
Then for the Duke and Cardinal of Guise
We lately saw their bloody Tragedies.

Ples.
The old Queen's soul most servilly did wait,
First on the Guise's crime, then on their fate.
And tho one punishment they could not have,
They had one guilt, and might have had one Grave.
Her shrivel'd veins, for such crimes could not quit,
But in her childrens blood she paid for it.

Gues.
Ther's none alive now, but our wounded Prince,
Whom doubtless Heav'n has pardon'd long time since,
And who, I hope, has many years to live.

Ples.
Yet future Ages will this judgement give—
'Twas just, that in the place, where once he stood
Condemning Innocents, he lost his blood.

Gues.
Great were the Judgements!

Ples.
But more great the crime!
I think, he was in Poland at that time.

Gues.
True, Plessis, and I waited on him there.

Ples.
Strange, that no Ghosts o'th' murder'd did appear,
And with loud shriekings strike his tingling Ear!
O! 'Twas a dismal night!

Gues.
Which to declare
Will shorten th' time of our attendance here.

Ples.
I need not aggravate the crime, nor tell
The murd'rous design, 'tis known too well.
Marg'ret of Valois marri'd to Navar;
That sacred tye of Love they made their snare.
Thus Marriage is their Sacrament! they Sign
Their horrid Plot; and then (instead of Wine)
They quench their thirst's with blood, like Catiline.
No State, no Sex, 'scap'd their unmanly rage;
They neither pitty'd Youth, nor rev'renc'd Age.
The Cross, which Heav'n gave as a glorious sign
Of Victory, to the great Constantine;
This Ensign first display'd i'th' Starry-Field,
—To which—
The Persian Sun and Turkish Moon did yield.
—Nay which—
The Blood of God himself did more than guild.
This sacred Badge's function they invade,
The Cross they upon ev'ry hat displaid,
Ten thousand Souls were forc't that fatal night
From Bodies pale to take an untim'd flight.
Lovers in midst of soft imbraces die;
Their Souls t'each other in their last breaths fly,
Then joyn i'th' vapours of a dying sigh.
Babes nuzling on stab'd Mothers breasts awake,
And gushing blood, alas, for milk they take.
Thin Ghosts (those airy Chariot of our Souls)
Hover'd all o'r the Town in num'rous Shoals,
Attending Guides, that might their wayes prepare
Thorough the pathless Regions of the Air.
Now cryes of dying Persons 'wake the Sun:
As Indians with loud clamours call the Moon.
Now horrid Scenes were offer'd to our Eyes;
The ground was pav'd with Carkasses; the Skies
Were hid with Clouds, which from spilt blood did rise.

Gues.
Loud is the cry of blood! 'tis louder far
Than peals of Thunder when they rend the Air.
Their dying groans eccho'd to Poland soon,
Where we with scorn and hate were look'd upon.
The very Tartars, who their Children fill
With blood of slaves, whom purposely they kill;
Whose Bodies are first kneaded up with blood,
Which is as much their substance as their food:
They ev'n did those Murd'rers condemn
Of such a crime, as ne'r was known to them.

Enter a Chyrurgion.
Chyr.
The King inquires for you.

Gues.
Are all things well?

Chyr.
'Till th'wound is open'd, Sir, we cannot tell.

SCENA ultima.

The Royal Bed-Chamber.
The King on 's Couch Navar, seated by him, Grillon, Revol, Larchant, Gabriel, Chateauneuf, and Chyrurgions. Guessle, Plessis at the other door. Attendants.
King.
Grieve not my Friends; I feel but little pain;
A sign (they say) I may be well again.
Strange was my dream and th'event too soon!

Gril.
But, Sir, the work of Vengeance is not done.
He hovers there, Sir, or if gone he be,
H' has his Commission left, and Sword with me.

Nav.
Grillon, thy vengeance shall have its desire;
We'l purge that treach'rous Town with sword and fire.

Gril.
May I but kindle 't, tho i' th' midst I fry,
Then like the Phœnix, I'le triumphant die.

King.
My thanks, Sir, for your love and care I give;
And shall requite you, if I die or live.

Nav.
More certain favours to your life I owe,
Than the World, nay than my hopes can e'r bestow.
Talk not of dying, Sir; It nums the sense,
And deads the very thoughts of recompence.

King.
The League is not so tender, Sir, as you;
I wear their Mark, but my revenge is due,
Shows sense of pain.
Both from my Honour, and my Justice too.

Chyr.
How are you, Sir?

King.
The pains I now indure.
Denounce my Sentence; I am past your cure.

[Chyrurgions view the wound, and look distractedly.
Gril.
What say'st thou Man?

Chyr.
His Bowels, ah! are pierc'd!

King.
My doom is past, and cannot be revers'd.

[Here all this time the Chyrurgions are busie.
Gril.
Thy tongue's as fatal as the Villains knife!
O! that with mine, I could redeem his life.
I soon would like the balsome tree be found,
Distilling drops of blood to cure his wound.
So both of us might add to honour's score;
I finish mine and he might purchase more.

King.
Ladies forbear! My wound has wept enough;
Ladies weep.
My Soul, 'gainst stabs, but not 'gainst tears is proof.

Gab.
If, Sir, my Tears could do you any good,
I'de ope the flood-gates, and the streams let loose;
Nay gladly weep my self into a Flood.
The nat'ral Balsam Virgins do produce.

Chat.
Poor, hopeless Maid! I have receiv'd a wound
More deep, than that the Villain gave to you.
That you, when too unkind, I only found,
And now must lose you when both kind and true.

King.
May you more happy in all fortunes prove,
And for your kind grief now, gain joyes in Love.
My End hastes on, my last breath does declare
(And you all know't) my brother of Navar
Is next in blood, and my immediate Heir.
Forgive my Enemies for Heav'n will be
So just both to avenge it self and me.
And for Religion I onely pray—
Heav'n would direct you in the safest way.
To turn you, Sir, to mine is vain to try;
Since, oh! this wound speaks louder far than I.

Nav.
Grief has distracted me and ty'd my tongue;
And rob'd me of all sense, but of your wrong.

King.
My soul from ev'ry faculty now flies,
And hovers at the Windows of my Eyes:
'Twill take it's flight just at my next fetcht groan.
My dearest friends, farewel! Oh!

[Groans and dies.
Rev.
Now, 'tis flown!

Chat.
Heav'n was my choice before; and now shall be!
Farewel all Loves, dear soul, unless for thee

[Weeps.
Nav.
In death it was his duty to forgive,
As to do justice is our parts that live.
Let us indeavour then with all our might,
Both to revenge his wrong and gain my right.
I am your King; and will point out the way
To Honour, and oblige you to obey.

Ples.
Let's now to Rheims, Sir, make a quick advance,
And with that sacred Oyl, anoint your Head,
Which was by Heav'n sent purposely to France.
To raise a new King, when the old on's dead.

Rev.
The King's last Will, Sir, makes your Title good.
You are his Heir by Will, as well as Blood

Gril.
I'l Love and serve you for no other thing.
But that you're very valiant and my King.

Nav.
I thank you all. You all shall largely share
Both in my Royal favours and my care.
Madam, you knew so much of me before
[To Gabriel.
It is a needless thing, now to say more.
Only some diff'rence by this change is grown,
I can present you with a double Crown.
[Then turns to the Men.
Love shall not die, tho for a time it cease;
We'l first try War, then the delights of Peace.

[The Curtain falls.