 | The Polititian |  |
Act. 5.
Enter King and Queene.Ki.
Oh I am lost, and my soul bleeds to thinke
By my own dotage upon thee.
Qu.
I was curst
When I first saw thee, poor wind-shaken King!
I have lost my Sonne.
Ki.
Thy honour impious woman,
Of more price then a Sonne, or thy own life,
I had a sonne too, whom my rashness sent
To another world, my poor Turgesius,
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Qu.
I would I had been a Basilisk, to have shot
A death to thy dissembling heart, when I
Gave my selfe up thy Queen; I was secure,
Till thou with the temptation of greatness
And flattery, didst poyson my sweet peace,
And shall thy base feares leave me now a prey
To Rebels?
Ki.
I had been happy to have left
Thee sooner, but be gone, get to some wildernesse
Peopled with Serpents, and engender with
Some Dragon like thy self.
Qu.
Ha, ha.
Ki.
Dost laugh thou prodigie? thou shame of woman?
Qu.
Yes, and despise thee dotard, vex till thy soul
Break from thy rotten flesh, I will be merry
At thy last groan.
Ki.
O my poor boy! my sonne!
His wound is printed here, that false Gotharus,
Your wanton Goat I feare, practis'd with thee
His death.
Qu.
'Twas thy own act and timerous heart, in hope
To be secure, I glory in the mention
Thou murderer of thy sonne.
Enter Hormenus.
Ho.
Oh sir, if ever, stand upon your guard,
The Army which you thought scattered and broke,
Is grown into a great and threatning body,
Lead by the Duke Olaus your lov'd Uncle,
Is marching hither, all your subjects fly to him.
Exit.
Qu.
Ha, ha.
Ki.
Curse on thy spleene, is this a time for laughter,
When horror should afflict thy guilty soule?
Hence mischiefe.
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Not to obey thee, (shadow of a King)
Am I content to leave thee, and but I wo'not
Prevent thy greater sorrow and vexation,
Now I would kill thee coward.
K.
Treason, treason.
Qu.
I, I, Who comes to your rescue?
Ki.
Are all fled?
Qu.
Slaves do it naturally.
Ki.
Canst thou hope to scape?
Qu.
I am mistress of my fate, and do not feare
Their inundation, their Army comming,
It does prepare my triumph, they shall give
Me libertie, and punish thee to live.
Ki.
Undone, forsaken, miserable King!
Exeunt severally.
Enter Prince, Olaus, Cortes, Aquinus, Souldiers.
Pr.
Worthy Aquinus, I must honour thee,
Thou hast preserv'd us all, thy service will
Deserve a greater monument then thanks.
Aq.
Thank the Duke, for breaking o' my pate.
Ol.
I know 'twas well bestow'd, but we have now meane
Proof of thy honest heart.
Aq.
But what with your highness favour, do you meane
To do with your father?
Pr.
Pay my duty to him,
He may be sensible of his cruelty,
And not repent to see me live.
Ol.
But with your favour, something else must be
Considered, there's a thing he calls his Queen,
A limbe of Lucifer, she must be rosted
For the Armies satisfaction.
Aq.
They'l ne'r digest her,
The Kings hounds may be kept hungry
Enough perhaps, and make a feast upon her.
Pr.
I wonder how the rabble will bestow
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Ol.
Why, they'l bury him alive
I hope.
Pr.
Did they suppose my body there?
Ol.
I'm sorry, he will fare so much the better,
I would the Queen were there to comfort him,
Oh they would smell, and sweat together rarely.
Aq.
He dare as soon be damn'd as make a noise,
Or stirre, or cough.
Ol.
If he should sneezé.
Cor.
'Tis his best course to go into the ground
With silence.
Pr.
March on, stay, what Trumpets that?
Enter Rebels with a Trumpet before the Coffin marching.
Ol.
They are no enemies, I know the Coffin.
Aq.
What rusty Regiment ha' we here?
Ol.
They are going to bury him, he's not yet discover'd;
Oh do not hinder 'em, 'tis a work of charity:
Yet now I do consider better on't,
You may do well to shew your selfe, that may
Be a meanes to waken the good Gentleman,
And make some sport before the rascall smell,
And yet he's in my nostrill, he has perfum'd
His box already.
Om., Reb.
'Tis he, 'tis he, the Prince alive! hey.
They see the Prince throw downe the Coffin, and runne to kneele and embrace him.
Aq.
What would he give but for a knife to cut
His own throat now?
Om., Rebel.
Our noble Prince alive?
Pr.
That owes himselfe to all your loves.
Aq.
What? what trinkets ha' you there?
Reb.
The Duke Olaus told us 'twas the Princes body,
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Aq.
So it appeares.
Ol.
'Tis better as it is.
2. Reb.
There's something in't, my shoulder is still sensible,
Lets search, stand off—
Ol.
Now do you sent him Gentlemen? he w'od forgive
The hangman to dispatch him out o'th way;
Now will these Masties use him like a Cat,
Most dreadfull Rogues at an execution:
Now, now.
1 Reb.
'Tis a man, ha Gotharus, the thing we whet our teeth for.
Om., Reb.
Out with the traytor, and with the murderer, hey, drag him.
Ol.
I told you.
1 Reb.
Hold, know your dutie fellow renagades,
We do beseech thee high and mighty Prince,
Let us dispose of what we brought, this traytor
He was given us by the Duke, fortune has
Thrown him into our teeth.
Ol.
And they'l devour him.
Om.
We beseech your highness.
Ol.
I doe acknowledge it, good sir grant their boone,
And try the Caniballs.
2.
Ile have an arme.
3.
Ile have a legge, I am a Shoomaker,
His shinbone may be useful.
4.
I want a signe, give me his head.
Pr.
Stay, let's first see him, is he not stifled?
3.
I had rather my wife were speechlesse.
Ol.
The Coffin sir was never close.
Pr.
He does not stirre.
1.
We'l make him stir, hang him, he's but asleepe.
2.
He's dead, hum.
Ol.
Dead? Then the Devill is not so wise as I took him.
Pr.
He's dead, and has prevented all their fury.
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He was not smother'd, the Coffin had aire enough.
Ol.
He might ha' liv'd to give these Gentlemen some content.
1 Reb.
Oh let us teare his limbs.
Pr.
Let none use any violence to his body,
I feare he has met reward above your punishment.
2.
Let me have but his clothes.
3.
He is a Taylor.
2.
Onely to cut out a sute for a Tarytor by 'em,
Or any man, my conscience would wish hang'd.
4.
Let me have a button for a relique—
Pr.
No more.
Ol.
There is some mystery in his death.
Enter King.
The King? obscure a little nephew—
Ki.
To whom now must I kneel? where is the King?
For I am nothing, and deserve to be so,
Unto you Uncle must I bow, and give
My Crown, pray take it, with it give me leave
To tell you, what it brings the hapless wearer,
Beside the outside glory: for I am
Read in the miserable fate of Kings.
You thinke it glorious to command, but are
More suject then the poorest payes you dutie,
And must obey your fears, your want of sleepe,
Rebellion from your Vassals, wounds even from
Their very tongues, whose quietnesse you sweat for,
For whose dear health you waste, and fright your
Strength to palenesse, and your blood into a frost.
You are not certaine of a friend or servant,
To build your faith upon, your life is but
Your subjects murmur, & your death their sacrifice;
When looking past your selfe, to make them blest
In your succession, which a wife must bring you;
You may give up your libertie for a smile
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More danger then a warre or famine brings,
Or if you have a sonne—my spirits faile me
At naming of a sonne.
Pr.
Oh my deare father.
Ki.
Ha! do not fright me in my tears, which should
Be rather blood, for yeelding to thy death,
I have let fall my penitence, though I was
Counsel'd by him whose truth I now suspect,
In the amaze and puzzle of my state—
Pr.
Dear sir, Let not one thought afflict you more,
I am preserv'd to be your humble sonne still,
Although Gotharus had contriv'd my ruine,
'Twas counterplotted by this honest Captaine.
Ki.
I know not what to credit, art Turgesius?
Pr.
And do account your blessing, and forgiveness
(If I have err'd) above the whole worlds Empire.
The Armie sir is yours.
Ol.
Upon conditions—
Pr.
Good sir—and all safety meant your person:
Ol.
Right, but for your gipsie Queene, that Cocatrice.
Ki.
She's lost.
Ol.
The Devil find her.
Ki.
She's false.
Ol.
That Gentleman
Jack in a Box, if he could speake,
Would cleare that point.
Ki.
Forgive me gentle boy.
Pr.
Dear sir no more.
Aq.
Best dismiss these Gentlemen.
Ol.
The Princes bountie, now you may go home;
And d'ee heare, be drunk to night, the cause requires it.
1 R.
We'l shew our selves good subjects.
Om.
Heaven bless the King and Prince, and the good Duke.
Exeunt.
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My comforts are too mighty, let me poure
More blessings on my boy.
Pr.
Sir, I am blest
If I stand faire in your opinion.
Ki.
And welcome, good Olaus.
Ol.
Y'are deceiv'd,
I am a Ruffian, and my head must off
To please the Monkey Madam that bewitch'd you,
For being too honest to you.
Ki.
We are friends.
Ol.
Upon condition that you will—
Ki.
What?
Ol.
Now have I forgot what I would have,
Oh that my Ladie Circe that transform'd you,
May be sent—whether? I ha' forgot agen,
To the Devil, any whether, far enough:
A curse upon her, she troubles me both when
I think on her, and when I forget her.
Enter Albina.
Ki.
Gotharus wife, the sorrowful Albina.
Al.
If pittie dwell within your royal bosome,
Let me be heard; I come to find a husband,
Ile not believe what the hard hearted rebels
Told me, that he is dead, (they lov'd him not,
And wish it so) for you would not permit
His murder here. You gave me, sir, to him
In holy marriage, i'le not say, what sorrow
My poor heart since hath been acquainted with,
But give him now to me, and i'le account
No blessing like that bountie; where, oh where
Is my poor Lord? none tell me? are you all
Silent, or deaf as Rocks? yet they sometimes
Do with their hollow murmurs, answer men.
This does increase my fears, none speak to me?
I aske my Lord from you sir, you once lov'd him,
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Why do you shake your head? and turn away?
Can you resolve me sir? the Prince alive?
Whose death they would revenge upon Gotharus.
O let me kisse your hand, a joy to see
You safe, doth interrupt my griefe, I may
Hope now my Lord is saf too, I like not
That melancholly gesture; why do you make
So dark your face, and hide your eies, as they
Would shew an interest in sorrow with me.
Where is my Lord? can you or any tell me
Where I may find the comfort of mine eies,
My husband; or but tell me that he lives,
And I will pray for you—then he is dead
Indeed I feare.
Pr.
Poor Ladie.
Aq.
Madam be comforted.
Al.
Why that's well said, I thank you gentle sir,
You bid me be comforted, blessing on you,
Shew me now reason for it, tell me something
I may believe.
Aq.
Madam, your husbands dead.
Al.
And did you bid me sir be comforted
For that? oh you were cruel; dead? who murdered him?
For though he lov'd not me in life, I must
Revenge his death.
Pr.
Alas you cannot.
Al.
No?
Will not heaven heare me think you? for i'le pray
That horror may pursue the guiltie head
Of his black murderer, you doe not know
How fierce and fatall is a widowes curse;
Who kil'd him? saie.
Aq.
We know not.
Al.
Y'are unjust.
Pr.
Pursue not sorrow with such inquisition
Ladie.
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Not I? who hath more interest?
Ki.
The knowledge of what circumstance depriv'd him
Of life, will not availe to his return;
Or if it would, none here know more, then that
He was brought hither dead in that inclosure.
Al.
Where?
Aq.
In that Coffin Ladie.
Al.
Was it charitie
Made this provision for him? oh my Lord
Now may I kisse thy wither'd lip, discharge
Upon thy bosome a poor widowes tears;
There's something tempts my heart to shew more dutie,
And wait on thee to death, in whose pale dresse
Thou dost invite me to be reconcil'd.
Ki.
Remove that Coffin.
Al.
Y'are uncharitable;
Is't not enough that he is rob'd of life
Among you, but you'l rob me of his bodie?
Poor remnant of my Lord; I have not had
Indeed so many kisses a great while,
Pray do not envie me, for sure I sha'not
Die of this surfet, he thought not I was
So neare to attend him in his last and long
Progresse, that built this funerall tenement
Without a roome for me; the sad Albina
Must sleepe by her dead Lord, I feel death coming,
And as it did suspect, I durst not look
On his grim visage, he has drawn a curtaine
Of mist before my eies.
Ki.
Look to the Ladie.
Pr.
Look to Albina, our Physitians,
There is not so much vertue more i'th Kingdome:
If she survive this passion, she is worth
A Prince, and I will court her as my blessing.
Say, is there hope?
Phy.
There is.
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Above your lives preserve her.
Phy.
With our best art and care.
Exit with Albina.
Ol.
She has almost made me woman too; but
Come to other businesse.
Enter Queene.
Aq.
Is not this the Queene?
Ol.
The Queen of hell, give her no hearing, but
Shoot, shoot her presently without more repentance,
There is a leacherous Devil in her eye,
Give him more fire, his hell's not hot enough,
Now shoot.
Pr.
Be temperate good sir.
Qu.
Nay let his cholerick highness be obey'd.
Aq.
She is shot-free.
Qu.
The Prince alive? where is Gotharus?
Ol.
Your friend that was.
Qu.
It is confest.
Ol.
Your Stallion.
Qu.
He has more titles sure.
Ol.
Let but some strangle her in her own haire.
Qu.
The office will become a noble hangman.
Ol.
Whore—
Qu.
Ile not spend my breath upon thee,
I have more use on't, does Gotharus live?
Aq.
You may conjecture Madam, if you turn
Your eyes upon that object.
Qu.
It has wrought then.
Ki.
What has wrought?
Qu.
His Physick sir,
For the state Megrim.
A wholsome poyson, which in his poor feares,
And fainting when the Rebels first pursu'd him,
It was my happinesse to minister
In my poor boyes revenge, kil'd by his practise.
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Poyson'd.
Ol.
She is turn'd Doctor.
Qu.
He becomes
Deaths pale complexion, and now I'm prepar'd
Pr.
For what?
Qu.
To die.
Ol.
Prepar'd to be damn'd, a seven years killing
Will be too little.
Qu.
I pitty your poor rage,
I sha'not stay so long, nor shall you have
The honour sir to kill me.
Ol.
No, let me trie.
Qu.
Ha, ha.
Ol.
Dost thou laugh Helcat?
Qu.
Yes, and scorne all your furies, I was not
So improvident, to give Gotharus all
My cordiall, you may trust the operation,
Here's some to spare, if any have a mind
To taste, and be assur'd, will you my Lord?
'Twill purge your choler rarely.
Ol.
Ile not be your patient I thank you.
Qu.
This box was ever my companion,
Since I grew wicked with that Polititian,
To prevent shameful death, nor am I coy
To pleasure a friend in't.
Ol.
Devils charity.
Qu.
It works with method, and doth kill discreetly
Without a noise, your Mercury is a rude
And troublesome destroyer to this medicine;
I feel it gently seize upon my vitals,
'Tis now the time to steale into my heart.
Ki.
Hast thou no thought of heaven?
Qu.
Yes, I do think
Sometimes, but have not heart enough to pray;
Some vapour now rises 'twixt me and heaven,
I cannot see't, lust and ambition ruin'd me:
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World, it were a happiness to die a Queene,
I find my conscience too late, 'tis bloody,
And full of staines, oh I have been so wicked,
'Twere almost impudence to aske a pardon,
Yet for your own sakes pitty me; survive
All happie, and if you can, forgive, forgive.
Moritur.
Ki.
Those accents yet may be repentance.
Pr.
See's dead.
Ki.
Some take their bodies hence.
Pr.
Let them have buriall.
Ki.
'Tis in thee Turgesius
To dispose all, to whom I give my Crown;
Salute him King by my example.
Pr.
Stay,
Upon your dutie staie, will you be traytors,
Consent your lawful King should be depos'd?
Sir, do not wound your Son, and lay so great
A staine upon his hopeful, his green honour,
I now enjoy good mens opinions,
This change will make 'em think I did conspire,
And force your resignation, were it still
By justice and your selfe, it shall not touch
My brow, till death translate you to a Kingdome
More glorious, and you leave me to succeed,
Better'd by your example in the practise
Of a Kings power and dutie.
Ki.
This obedience
Will with excess of comfort kill thy father,
And hasten that command thou wouldst decline.
Pr.
Receive this Captain, and reward his faith
To you and me.
Ki.
Be Captaine of our guard.
And my good Uncle, to your eare I leave
The Souldiers, let the largesse speak our bountie
And your love.
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I, this sounds well fellow Souldiers,
Trust me beside your pay for the Kings bountie.
Sol.
Within.
Heaven preserve
The King and Prince.
Ol.
Not a short prayer for me?
Om., Sol.
Heaven bless the Duke, heaven bless the Duke.
Ol.
Why so, money will do much.
Ki.
A bright daie shines upon us, come my sonne,
Too long a stranger to the Court, it now
Shall bid thee wellcome, I do feel my years
Slide off, and joy drown sorrow in my tears.
Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
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