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 1. 
Act. I.
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 

  


Act. I.

Enter Archimagus, and two other Magitians, at severall doores.
1.
We are undone.

2.
We are lost.

Ar.
Not so, your feares
Become you not, great Priests of Jove and Saturne;
Shall we that awe the furies, at whose charme
Hell it selfe quakes, be frighted with a shadow,
A tame, a naked Church-man and his tribe
Of austere starved faces? no, this Kingdome
Shall still be ours, and flourish, every Altar
Breathe incense to our gods, and shine with flames,
To strike this Christian blinde.

1.
This is but ayre,
He is now landing, every tread he prints
Upon this earth, will make it grone.

Ar.
Are not
The havens strengthned by the Kings command
With souldiers, to watch that none arrive
With this suspition.

2.
But we that can
Command armies from hell for our designe,


And blast him, now stand idle, and benumm'd,
And shall grow here ridiculous statues, I'le
Muster my friends.

1.
And if I ha' not lost
My power, the Spirits shall obey to drowne
This stragler, and secure this threatned Island.

Ar.
Stay, which of you can boast more power than I?
For every Spirit you command, my spells
Can raise a legion; you know I can
Untennant hell, dispeople the wide ayre,
Where like innumerous atomes the blacke genij
Hover, and nistle one another, all
That haunt the woods and waters, all i'th darke
And solitary chambers of the earth,
Breake through their Adamantine chaines, and fly
Like Lightning to my will, and shall your factious
And petty correspondence with the fiends,
Attempt this worke without my voice and counsell?
Who brought you first acquainted with the divell?
Did not my Art?

1.
We are disciples to
The Great Archimagus.

2.
We acknowledge all
Our Art deriv'd from you.

1.
But in this justice to our gods, we hope
Our gods chiefe Priest will give us leave—

Ar.
Yes, and confirme it, and applaud your zeales,
My fellowes both in sacred Arts and Priesthood.
Go on, I praise your resolution:
My Spirit gave intelligence before
Of his approach, and by all circumstance,
Our prophesie doth point this Christian Priest
The blacke subversion of our Isle, but we
Like masters of all destiny, will breake
His fate, and bruise him in his Infancy
Of danger to this Kingdome, fly and be


Arm'd to your wishes; Spirits shall attend you,
And the whole power of hell.
Exeunt Magitians.
This newes affrights me,
How e're I seem to swell with confidence,
This is the man, and this the revolution,
Fixt for the change of sacrifice foretold,
And threatned in this fatall prophesie.
A man shall come into this Land,
With shaven Crowne, and in his hand
A crooked Staffe, he shall command,
And in the East his table stand;
From his warme lips a streame shall flow,
To make rockes melt, and Churches grow,
Where while he sings, our gods shall bow,
And all our kings his law allow.
He reades
This, this is the vexation.

Enter Endarius.
End.
Sir, the King.

Ar.
What of the King?

End.
Is troubled, sicke, distracted.

Ar.
How?

End.
With a dreame; he has no peace within him;
You must with all haste visit him, we shall
Suspect his death else.

Enter Ferochus.
Fer.
Mighty Priest, as you
Respect the safety of the King, you must
Make haste, the Court is up in armes, and he
Calls for his sword.

Ar.
You fright me gentlemen:
Rebellion in the Court, who are the Traytors?

Fer.
His owne wilde thoughts, and apprehension
Of what, he sayes, was in his sleepe presented,
He calls upon his Guard, and railes upon 'em,
When they appeare with no more armes, and sweares
That every man shall weare a Tun of Iron.



End.
The Prince.

Enter Conallus.
Con.
The King impatient of your absence, Sir,
Hath left the Court, and by some few attended
Is coming hither, laden with feare and weapons;
He talks of strange things in his dreame, and frights
Our cares with an invasion, that his Crowne
Sits trembling on his head, unlesse your wisdome
Cleare his dark feares, we are undone.

Arc.
He's here.
Enter King Leogarius, Corybreus Dichu.
How fares the King?

Leo.
Deare Archimagus,
We want thy skill to interpret a black dreame
I had last night, my fancie is still sick on't,
And with the very apprehension
I feele much of my soule dissolve, and through
My frighted pores, creep from me in a sweat:
I shall have nothing in me but a bath,
Vnlesse thou do repaire my languishing essence
With thy great art and counsell.

Arc.
Give me, Sir,
The particular of your dreame.

Leo.
They must not heare it,
Yet stay; the Ecclipse, if it be any thing,
Is universall, aad doth darken all.
Me thought, Archimagus, as I was praying
I'th' Temple neere the sea, my Queene, my Sons,
Daughters, and Traine of my Nobilitie
Prostrate before the Altar, on the sudden
The roofe did open, and from Heaven a flame
Descending on the images of our gods,
Began to burne the sacred browes, from which
Many deformed worms, and hideous serpents
Come crawling forth, and leap'd unto our throats,
Where, with their horrid circles and embrace,
We were almost strangled; in this fright, me thought,


We fled out of the Temple, and as soone
We saw a pale man coming from the sea,
Attended by a Tribe of reverend men,
At whose approach the Serpents all unchain'd
Themselves, and leaving our imprison'd necks,
Crept into the earth, straight all that were with me,
As I had been the prodigie, forsooke me,
My wife, my children, Lords, my servants all,
And fled to this pale man, who told me, I
Must submit too, humble my selfe to him,
This wither'd peece of man: at which, my-thought,
I felt a trembling shoot through every part,
And with the horror, thus to be depos'd,
I waken'd. Now, Archimagus, thy Art
To cure thy soule-sick King.

Arc.
'Tis done already.

Leo.
How, my deare Priest?

Arc.
This pale thing shall not trouble you,
He that so long was threatned to destroy
Vs and our Gods, is come.

Leo.
Ha, where?

Arc.
Now landing:
But were the coasts unguarded, he wants power
To fight with those ætheriall troops, that wait
Vpon the Gods we serve. He is now dying,
This minute they have blasted him: and they,
Above the speed of wings, are flying hither
With the glad newes, be calme agen, and let not
These airy dreames distract your peace.

Leo.
They are vanish'd
Already at thy voyce, thou (next our Gods
The hope of this great Iland) hast disperst
All clouds, and made it a faire skie againe,
My learned Archimagus.

Enter Spirits.
1.
He is come.

2.
He's come.



3.
And we must flye.

Leo.
What voyces make the aire
So sad?

Cor.
They strike a horror.

Con.
They are Spirits.

Arc.
I command once more to oppose him.

1.
In vaine, great Priest.

2.
We must away.

3.
Away.

Omnes.
We cannot, dare not stay.

Exeunt.
Enter, Angell Victor, bearing a banner with a crosse, St. Patrick and other Priests in procession singing.
Leo.
What harmony is this? I have no power
To do them harme, observe their ceremonie.

Ode.
[Priests]
Post maris sævi fremitus Iernæ
(Navitas cœlotremulos beante)
Uidimus gratum jubar enatantes
littus inaurans
Montium quin vos juga, vosque sylvæ
Nunc salutamus, chorus advenarum
Jubilum retrò modulantur, Ecce
Carbasa ventis
Dulce supremo melos occinanus
Carminum flagrans Domino litamen
Cujus erranti dabitur popello
Numine sacrum.

Leo.
I'll speake to him. Stay, you that have presum'd
Without our leave, to print your desperate foot
Vpon our Countrey; say, what bold designe
Hath arm'd you with this insolent noyse, to dare
And fright the holy peace of this faire Ile;
Nay, in contempt of all our gods, advance


Your songs in honour of an unknowne power?
The King commands you speake.

Patr.
Vnto that title
Thus we all bow; it speakes you are alli'd
To Heaven, great Sir, we come not to distract
Your peace, looke on your number, we bring no
Signes of sterne war, no invasive force to draw
Feare, or suspition, or your frownes upon us:
A handfull of poore naked men we are,
Throwne on your Coast, whose armes are only prayer,
That you would not be more unmercifull
Than the rough seas, since they have let us live
To finde your charitie.

Leo.
Whence are you?

Patr.
We are of Britaine, Sir.

Leo.
Your name, that answer for the rest so boldly?

Patr.
My name is Patrick, who with these poore men
Beseech you would permit.

Leo.
No dwelling here,
And therefore quit this Kingdome speedily,
Or you shall curse you saw the land.

Dic.
Are they not Spies?

Arc.
A whirlewind snatch'em hence, and on the back
Of his black wings transport these fugitives,
And drop their cursed heads into the sea,
Or land'em in some cold remotest wildernesse
Of all the world, they must not here inhabit.

Dic.
Hence, or we'll force you with these goads.

Cor.
Vnlesse
You have a mind to try how well your hoods
Can swim, go trudge back to your rotten bark,
And steere another course.

Fer.
You will finde Ilands
Peopled with Squirrils, Rats, and Crowes, and Coneyes,
Where you may better plant, my reverend Moles.

End.
Faces about.



Pat.
You are inhospitable,
And have more flintie bosomes than the rocks
That bind your shores, and circle your faire Iland;
But I must not returne.

Leo.
How?

Arc.
How?

Pat.
Till I haue
Perform'd my dutie: Know great King, I have
Commission for my stay, I came not hither
Without command, Legat from him, before
Whose angry breath the rocks doe breake and thaw;
To whose nod the mountaines humble their proud heads,
The earth, the water, aire and heaven is his,
And all the stars that shine with evening flames,
Shew but their trembling when they wait on him:
This supreme Kings command I have obey'd,
Who sent me hither to bring you to him,
And this still wandring nation, to those springs
Where soules are everlastingly refresh'd;
Vnto those gardens, whose immortall flowers
Staine your imagin'd shades, and blest abodes.

Leo.
What place is this?

Pat.
Heaven; now a great way off,
But not accessible to those permit
Their pretious soules be strangled thus with mists,
And false opinion of their gods.

Arc.
No more.

Pat.
I must say more in my great Masters cause,
And tell you in my dreames, he hath made me heare
From the dark wombs of mothers, prison'd infants
Confessing how their parents are mis-led,
And calling me thus far to be their freedome.
Have pitie on your selves, be men, and let not
A blind devotion to your painted gods.—

Dic.
He does blaspheme. Accept me, Jove, thy Priest,
And this my sacrifice. Ha, mine armes grow stiffe,


I feele an ice creeping through all my bloud,
There's winter in my heart, I change o'th' sudden
Am growne a statue, every limb is marble;
Yee gods take pitie on me, in your cause
I wither thus; Jove, if thou hast a lightning,
Bestow some here, and warme me.

Cor.
Strange!

End.
Father! Brother, if he should dye now?

Fer.
I am his eldest son, he shall find me reasonable,
He may doe worse, considering how long I have been of age.

Dic.
No power let fall compassion. I have
Offended. Whom? I know not, this good man
Forgive, and if the Deitie thou serv'st
Can put a life into this frozen pile,
Pray for me.

Leo.
Villaine, wouldst thou owe thy life
To the mercie of the power he serves,

Arc.
Wish rather
To rot for ever thus.

Leo.
And if thou diest,
I'll build a Temple here, and in this posture
Kings shall kneele to thee, and on solemne dayes
Present their crownes; Queenes shall compose thee garlands,
Virgins shall sing thy name, and 'bout thy neck
And armes disperse the riches of their Art,
Next to our Gods we honour thee: keep from
The Impostor.

Cor.
I have no meaning to come neere him.

Pat.
Give me thy hand: now move, and may thy heart
Find softnesse too, this mercie is the least
Of my great Masters treasures.

Dic.
I feele my heat
Return'd, and all my rockie parts grow supple,
Let the first use I make of their restore, be
To bend my knees to you.

Pat.
Bow them to him


That gave me power to helpe thee.

Fer.
He is well agen.

Dic.
I finde a beame let into my darke soule,
Oh take me to your faith, here I give backe
My selfe to serve your god.

Leo.
Traitrous to heaven!
Come from him.

Dic.
Bid my haste forsake a blessing.

End.
Father.

Dic.
Call this good man your father, Boyes.

Arc.
He's mad, and I am frantick at this base
Apostasie. My Lord think how you may
Provoke our gods, and the King anger.

Pat.
Feare
His wrath that made, and can let fall the world.

Fer.
He may yet do me as great a curtesie
As dying comes too, if his error hold,
And the Kings anger.

Leo.
Dotard,
Returne; and prostrate to the gods we worship,
Or though his witchcraft now protect thy selfe,
Thy sonnes shall bleed.

Fer.
How's that?

Leo.
To satisfie
The gods and us, with the next mornings Sunne,
Unlesse thou rise, and sacrifice to our Altars,
Downe from that Rocke which over lookes the Sea,
They shall be throwne; my vow is fixt.

Fer.
Deare father.

Leo.
Take them away, their fate depends on him.

Dic.
Oh, I am lost.

Pat.
Thou art found.

Dic.
Forsake me not, poore boyes! my prayers and blessing.

Pat.
Set forward now in heavens name,
And finish our procession.

Exeunt.
Leo.
Death pursue 'em,


Will nothing make them feele our wrath.

Co.
The charme
Will not last alwayes.

Arc.
Their fate is not yet ripe,
Be not dejected, Sir, the gods cannot
Be patient long. Meane time let me advise,
Not by your Lawes, or other open force,
To persecute'em; but disguise your anger.

Leo.
Ha?

Arc.
What matter is't, so we destroy these wretches
What wayes we take? invite him to your Court,
Pretend, I know not what desires, to heare
More of his faith, that you find turnes within
Your heart, and tremble at the miracle
Wrought upon Dichu; when he's in your possession
A thousand stratagems may be thought upon
To send his giddy soule most quaintly off to
That fine phantasticall reward he dreames on
I'th' t'other world.

Leo.
Thou hast pleas'd us, Archimagus.

Cor.
Great Ceanerachius has inspir'd the Priest!
This is the only way.

Con.
I doe not like it.

Leo.
It shall be so, he shall be thus invited,
And we will meet him with our Queene and Daughters,
Who shall compose themselves to entertaine him.

Arc.
Leave me to instruct my princely charge, your Daughters.

Leo.
Be still their blest Director, to thy charge
We gave them up long since, but do not tell 'em
What happen'd to the Apostate Dichu; women
Have soluble and easie hearts, that accident
May startle their religion, keep 'em firme
In the devotion to our gods, whose virgins
We hope to call them shortly, if their zeale
Maintaine that holy flame that yet hath fill'd
Their bosomes.



Arc.
They are the Darlings of the Temple.

Leo.
Conallus, you shall be the messenger,
And beare our invitation.

Arc.
Trouble not
The Prince, impose that businesse on my care.

Leo.
Be it so.

Con.
I am glad I am off the employment.

Leo.
All wayes to serve our gods are free, and good,
When shed for them, they take delight in blood.

Exeunt.