University of Virginia Library

The third ACT

The first Scene

Enter Symphrona and Francina.
Symphro.
Ah Heavens! what change is this! why weep you so,
Sweet Madam! the occasion let me know;
Speak quickly then; you kill me with delay;
My apprehension, will no longer stay.
There's something 'bout my Lord, I'le lay my life,
Which causes in your spirits, this same strife.
Say? is he kill'd? or is he drown'd at Sea?
Or will he not, no longer faithful be?
O how I bleed! and how my soul's in pain!
The reason of these tears, from you to gain.

Fran.
VVhy do I live? or why have I the pow'r,
To keep this frame, together for an how'r?
VVere it not better, I were in my Tomb,
Then live, and thus unfortunate become?
No doubt it were, if Death woo'd be so kind,
To take me hence, to ease my troubled mind.

Sym.
Good Madam out with it, what e're it be,
Me of a thousand, thousand doubts to free.
Be't what it will, to speak it do not fear,
For I am ready, and prepar'd to hear.

Fran.
You know not what you say, in saying so,
Unless the thing, you certainly did know.
Can you be prepared of a friend,
To hear the story, of his fatal end?

Sym.
To be prepar'd to hear it, is no sin,
So that no pleasure I do take therein.
But what mischance, may't be I cannot hear,
VVithout offence, unto my chaster ear?
Dear Madam, let me know it, though I die,
And be partaker, with the Destiny.

Fran.
Then to be brief, and make you understand,
VVhat I have heard, from one that by did stand,
VVho had not then, escapt this news to tell,
Had he not known, to swim exactly well.
My brother had no sooner put to Sea,
VVith hope, and joy, to visit you, and me,
But presently was spy'd, not far to lurk,
A man of war, belonging to the Turk,
Which made t'wards him, with all their might and main,
Not doubting quickly, but their prey to gain.
The Captain of his Ship, who as I'me told,
VVas Sea-man good enough, and very bold,
Thought it more sure, them striving to out-sail,
Then rashly hope, by fighting to prevail:
His Vessel being small, and so ill mann'd,
It 'gainst the other, coo'd not likely stand,
And thereupon, commanded all his men,
To stand unto their tackling, stoutly then:
And made all haste they coo'd, to get away,
If that the wind, their wishes woo'd obey.
VVhich did for half a day, hold very good,
They still escaping, though they were pursu'd.
At last, the wind whose humour is to change,
Became so the sudden calm, a thing not strange:
VVhich hindred them, they coo'd not farther go,
They in the reach, still being of their foe.
VVho then were fain to try, to do by force,
That which they coo'd no longer, by a course:
But all to little purpose, on my word,
For they their Vessel, quickly laid aboard.
Helas! I have not strength to speak the rest,
VVherefore dear Madam, I leave it to be gest.

Sym.
Ah Heavens! why have you broke my sweet repose?
Falls in a swound.
I in this world, have nothing more to lose.
I've lost my all, and more I do not crave,
Since that my Dearest, Dear's, become a slave.

Fran.
Sweet Madam be of chear, and grieve not thus,
Your sighs, and tears, cannot help him, nor us.

Sym.
O give me leave, I pray now at the least,
To grieve for that, which cannot be exprest.
Had he been kill'd, or drown'd, or had grim Death
VVhich spareth none, by sickness seiz'd his breath:
It woo'd have been more welcome, to my ear,
Then that which from you, Madam, I do hear.
For then I might have been, extreamly sure,
More pain, and torment, he coo'd not endure.
But now I know he lives and lives in pain,
VVithout all hopes, his freedom for to gain.
Good Gods! how can I chuse, but sigh and grieve,
To have no pow'r, my Lord for to relieve.

Fran.
I cannot blame you Madam, rather must,
Commend these tears, and say your sighs are just.
Yet were he dead, you lesser hope woo'd have,
Since none e're yet, did ever quit the grave.
You cannot tell, he may so happy be,
As by some means, procure his liberty.

Sym.
It is not likely, since the Turk lets go,
No man for love, or money, you do know.
And he will not commit, a crime so foul,
As for his freedom, give away his soul.
Ah Heavens! coo'd but my life his ransom be,
How with it I woo'd part, most willingly!

Exeunt.

The second Scene

Enter Prince alone.
Prince.
Coo'd I but compass, what I so desire,
And what with reason too, I do admire:
Then shoo'd I think my self, a Prince indeed,
And to desire, shoo'd never more have need.
Had I been Childe, unto some Countrey blade,
Or to some meaner person of a trade,
I might have chosen, where I might have lov'd,
And from my Mistriss, never been remov'd:
VVhereas, being born a Prince, and so more free,
I am less master, of my liberty.
I cannot marry, but I must ask leave,
And from my Subjects, order too receive.
Perhaps take one, I can by no means love,
Because some reason, in the State does move.
Unhappy reason, so to force ones faith,
For one, for whom, he no affection hath.
Princes in love, less happy are I vow,
Then maids that milk, or men that go to plow.
And how, and how, does our affair succeed,
Nonantious enters.
Does she believe, my soul for hers does bleed?
How does she relish, and disgest my love?
Will she be kind? or will she cruel prove?

Non.
Implease your Highness, I have done my best,
Not any thing omitting, unexprest;
Which might perswade, and move her to believe;
Yet for all that, she cannot it conceive.
She sayes her faith, is not so sawcy yet,
To let her entertain, and harbour it.
That she her birth, and breeding, knows too well,
To e're permit, in her, such thoughts shoo'd dwell.
Unto which words, I presently reply'd,
Your Highness, was so royally ally'd,
You had enough, both for your self, and her,
And that you vertue, did 'fore birth prefer.

Prince.
Well, thereunto, what answer did she make?
Coo'd not that argument, her captive take?

Nonant.
Good faith Sir no, she seem'd thereat to scoff,
And rather nearer, to be farther off.
All the fine words, I coo'd invent and make,
Had not the pow'r, her constancy to shake.
I told her to be wife, unto a King,
Was not, no little, nor no common thing:
No more then for to have, at her command,
So many Nobles, bare-head for to stand.
All which she heard, but with so cold an ear,
That she did seem to hearken, but not hear.
A Virgin she's resolv'd, to live and die,
And so she bid me tell, your Majestie.

Prince.
Good Heavens! is't possible she can be so,
Both to her self, and to her Prince a foe?
If that my person, cannot make her love,
Has not a Crown, the power her to move?
Of what cold earth, has nature her compos'd,
Against all reason, so to be dispos'd?
She will not wed, then wherefore was she made?
If that she will not, with us mortals trade?
Yet I will not the siege, raise for this blow,
But will her mind, in my own person know.

Exeunt.

The third Scene

Enter King, and divers followers.
King.
Go tell the Cardinal, and Marshal thus,
That 'tis our pleasure, they shoo'd come to us.
Exeunt.
Leave us alone: that we shoo'd him remove,
Whom 'bove our life, and Kingdom, we do love!
No, no, wee'le never do't, wee'le rather die,
Then either him, or else his Counsel flie.
My Lord you're welcome, to our Royal ear,
Cardinal enters.
Wee've news to tell you, set you in this Chair.

Card.
Implease you Sir, I know my duty well,
And where my distance, likewise ought to dwell.

King.
Set down we say, for 'tis our Princely will,
That you in this, our pleasure shoo'd fulfill.
Be cover'd too, and then we will proceed,
To tell you that, which makes our soul to bleed.
Our Subjects grieved are, and say the cause,
Proceeds from you, 'cause you despise our Laws:
Advising us, to govern them by will,
Which they to us, presented have by Bill:
That ev'ry day, their taxes more and more
Do so increase, that they are grown so poor,
They are not able, by no means to live,
Nor to their wives, and children, bread to give:
Which ought to be, most sensible to us,
To see them for our sakes, to suffer thus.
We must my Lord, think on some way to ease
Them out of hand, their fury to appease:
Lest lecting them, so long in vain to waite,
They shoo'd become, insens'd, and desperate.
But that which grievs us most, is, they demand,
Your precious person, at our royal hand:
And will on no conditions, be at rest,
Until of you, they fully be possest:
Which we in justice, cannot yield unto,
We are my Lord, so much oblig'd to you.

Card.
In nothing else, I think my self so poor,
As that I cannot, serve your Highness more.
It is implease your Majestie, no news,
To hear the common people, me accuse.
These many years, they've had at all no shame
To threaten me, and likewise blast my name.
But still I have preserv'd me, from their reach,
And will in time, them better manners teach.

King.
What can we do, against a multitude?

Car.
Do as you've done, use them extreamly rude.

King.
But that will but provoke them more and more.

Car.
The way to keep them down, 's to keep them poor.
For shoo'd your Highness, let them wealthy grow,
And suffer them, no misery to know;
They woo'd on all occasions, able be,
For to rebell, against your Majestie.

King.
But we have pas't our Royal word, to ease
Them of their taxes, if that, them will please.

Card.
Then you have done, that which you will repent,
Think you they will with that, themselves content?
No no, upon my word, they will pull down,
If that they can, from off your head your Crown.
I know too well, the nature of those men,
How that there's not amongst them, one in ten,
Which truly loves, the title of a King,
So is it to them, such an odious thing.
They woo'd that all men, shoo'd in common live,
And have no Law, but what themselves do give.

Marsh.
Your Lord High Admiral, implease your Grace,
Marshal enters.
Was even now, arrested 'fore my face;
And carry'd to the Castle, in all hast,
There close prisoner, to be shut up fast.

King.
What says our Marshal? speak it once again,
For to conceive you, we have mighty pain.

Card.
I cannot blame your Highness, 'tis a thing,
Sufficient to astonish, any King.

Marsh.
Your Admiral implease you Sir, I say,
Was carry'd even now, by force away.

King.
Who is't, that was so sawcy, and so bold,
Without our order, on him to lay hold?

Marsh.
The men which did the other day, by Bill,
Present unto your Grace, your peoples will.

King.
Our Admiral in prison! can it be!
Just Heavens, tho't cost our Crown, wee'le set him free:
We will not long, there suffer him to lie,
And too much less, consent he e're shall die.
To us his services, are too well known,
To let him under, such a burthen groan.
We cannot with him, so un-King-like deal,
Who has so much oblig'd, our Common-weal.
No, no, wee'le make, those blacker souls to know,
That more respect, to us they ought to shew,
Then to arrest, without our Royal leave,
Any, which we don't criminal conceive.
Think they, we hold this Scepter here in vain,
And over us, will suffer them to raign:
Men namely which more cruel are, then wise,
Which God, and all Religion, do despise?
Or think they, wee'le content us with the name
Of King, and not in power, be the same?
No, no, by Heaven, wee'le make their pride to fall,
And will be King, or else not King at all.
Go fetch the heads, of those two Monsters straite,
And clap them fast, upon the City gate,
To serve for terror, and example too,
To any that hereafter, so woo'd do.
And break the prison doors, to set him free,
For wee'le not stay, until they op'ned be.

Marsh.
Implease your Grace, I'le make what speed I may,
Your Majesty in this, for to obey.

Exit
Card.
This is the language, of a King indeed,
And of such men, the means for to be free'd.
Shoo'd not your Highness, with such rigour deal,
You'de quickly overthrow, your Common-weal.
It is no little danger, for to give
The rains to such, which know not how to live.

King.
'Tis true my Lord, but yet too strict a course,
Oftimes does make some men, but ten times worse.
Had we to deal, with men of wit and sence,
They coo'd not be misled, by ought pretence.
Pray Heaven, our Kingdom, and our Crown defend,
From that which we so much, do apprehend.

Car.
What can your Highness, apprehend, I'de know,
Considering that you have, no forraign foe?

King.
A Domestick one, is worse my Lord by far,
Shoo'd we be forced, to a Civil war.

Card.
That's not likely, they may perchance rebell,
But long resist, believ't they cannot tell,
Because you do possess, implease your Grace,
Ev'ry Town of strength, and war-like place.

King.
VVell, hap how 'twill, we Heaven to witness take,
VVe will not strike, until that us they make.
And 't shall be with regret, and sorrow too,
So 'gainst our Subjects, to be forc't to do.

Sped.
My Lord does humbly kiss your Highness hands,
Enter Spedicious with a dispatch from Spain.
And too with all, sent me with these commands.
'Tis news, implease your Majesty from Spain,
To tell you how the match, they entertain.

King.
Here, kiss our hand, how does your Master? well?
Has no mischance, him in the way befell?

Sped.
No, none implease your Majestie, he did
Arrive with acclamations, at Madrid:
So joyful were the people, for to hear,
The cause, and Subject, of his coming there.

King.
Tis well, our business needs, must take effect,
Since that the common people, it affect.

Exeunt.

The fourth Scene

Enter Francina alone.
Franc.
The Prince love me! and so against my will,
Repeat, and urge me, him for to fulfill!
Good Heavens! what kind of man and Lover's he,
So for another, to transported be,
As be more earnest, in the Princes cause,
Then in his own, as then I found he was?
VVas it for want of Love? why then did he,
Press it with so much importunity?
Since that he coo'd not chuse, but know the good,
Must needs redown to me, and all my blood.
And if he lov'd me, as I do believe,
VVhy did he seek, a Rival to receive?
It was because, I might a Princess be,
No doubt, which is in love a mysterie:
That on his own content, shoo'd so contem,
To let his Mistress wear, a Diadem.
Oh love not to be equall'd! now I must
Or love again, or else be most unjust.
He that my scorn, and slight, coo'd not offend,
Ought in all reason, to my love pretend.
'Tis not a Crown, can pluck away the dart,
VVhich love has shot so deep, into my heart.
Nor yet much less, the name of Queen remove,
The resolution, I have took to love.
Such poor respects in love, ought not to be,
Nor will I suffer, they shall be in me.
No, no, but I will love, without respect,
Since he himself for me, can so neglect.

Prince enters.
Prince.
Dear Madam all alone? what have you none,
To tell your grief to, but your self alone?
Or is't a secret, you will not impart,
Least you shoo'd meet, with a deceitful heart?
Trust me sweet Madam with't, I will not deal
So much unlike a Prince, as it reveal.

Fran.
That Sir I hope, you'le think not I do fear,
Shoo'd I to make it known, to you forbear.
It may be such a foolish, trifling thing,
Not worth the ear, of him that will be King.

Prince.
Madam, if it be fit to move you so,
It cannot be unfit, for me to know.
Pray tell it me, that I may likewise grieve,
The matter merits it, I do believe.

Fran.
That which in justice, ought to make me weep;
Ought not in reason, for to break your sleep.
For all the world, I woo'd not speak that thing,
Which might unto your Highness, sorrow bring.

Prince.
Ah dear Madam! your words are killing sweet,
To make them good, I wish you thought it meet.
Then shoo'd I happy be, and be at rest,
Enjoying that, which cannot be exprest.

Fran.
It cannot be exprest, 'tis true indeed,
The subject which does make, my heart to bleed.

Prince.
You do not, or you will not, me conceive,
So loth you are, the truth for to believe.

Fran.
Implease you Sir, I neere was backward yet,
To credit that, which might not be unfit.

Prince.
Ah Heav'ns! but you want faith to credit me;
Or if you don't, you kill me willingly.

Fran.
How! kill the Prince! here take the Traitress life.

Prince.
I ask no more then you, to be my wife.

Fran.
Your wife implease you Sir? and woo'd you be,
Unto your self, so much your enemy,
As take a creature, to your Princely bed,
So little worth? so poorly born and bred?
No, no, it cannot be; I know you jest.

Prince.
By all the Gods, I do not, I protest.

Fran.
Swear what you please, my duty will not let
My faith be tempted, for to credit it.
I know too well, my merit and your own,
It to admit, into my thoughts alone.

Prince.
Trust me I burn, but with so chaste a flame,
That Virgins without sin, may have the same.

Fran.
A Princess woo'd, implease your Highness, be
A fitter object, for your amity.

Prince.
What's fit for me, good Madam, do not so,
Better then I my self, pretend to know.
That's not the business, we have now in hand,
Nor did e're Love, upon such terms yet stand.

Fran.
Although you are a Prince, you are less free,
Then one of us, which are of low degree.
You cannot of your self, your self dispose,
And not the hearts, of all your subjects lose.
If love be blind, and shoots without respect,
The King is not, nor will he you neglect,
To let you marry, where your fancy takes,
Except he sees, it for the Kingdom makes.
So are you subject, to the Rules of State,
And ought in reason, his consent to waite.

Prince.
Madam, as I'me a Prince, so will I be
As well as others, in affection free.
I value not the love, and will of those,
Who for so small a thing, will be my foes,
Do you but give consent, and I'le not waite
Nor yet subscribe, to any Rules of State.

Fran.
Woo'd you that I to please you, shoo'd consent
And King, and all your Subjects, discontent?
D' you make so little reck'ning of me Sir,
As your content, before my good, prefer?
In this appears, you do not truly love,
For if you did, you woo'd more kinder prove.

Prince.
Is it to hate you Madam, and contemn,
To set upon your head, a Diadem?
No, no, in it appears, I honour you,
And that my passion, is both just and true.
Wherefore fair soul, do not so cruel prove,
As call that disrespect, which men call love.

Fran.
What glory is't, upon my head to place
A Crown of gold, and lose it with disgrace?
A Country Clown, I swear I'de rather wed,
Then with such fears, approach a Princes bed.

Prince.
These are fantastique fears, which do proceed
From want of Love, which make ill humours breed.
Did but his flames, once warm and heat your brest,
You of such doubts, woo'd soon be dispossest.
Dear Madam, make your Prince no longer sue,
For that which is by love, and duty due.

Fran.
I know my duty, bids me to obey,
But, but, my love, implease you Sir, says nay.
I cannot give my heart, to more then one,
Which having done, is now no more my own.

Prince.
What? have I a Rival then? good now tell
Me Madam where, that sawcy man does dwell?
That I may make, his passion for to know,
That to his Prince, he more respect does owe,
Then to presume, to court where I do love,
Although the object, may him justly move.
Yet I was told, that no man coo'd perswade,
You for to break, the vow that you had made,
Of living chast, and single all your life,
And to no earthly creature, to be wife.

Fran.
You hearing that, why does your Highness seek,
The oath which I have took, to make me break;
It is no small offence, to Heav'n above,
You know, so perjur'd, and forsworn to prove.

Prince.
Were you forsworn, in pitty of my heat,
Heav'n woo'd forgive you sure, it is so great.

Fran.
'Tis true I said so, but it was to try,
And exercise his love, and constancy.

Prince.
And who is it? sweet Madam, be not coy
To name the man, that must those joyes enjoy.

Fran.
A friend of yours, and one that did so plead
Your cause, that he has made my soul to bleed.

Prince.
A friend of mine? if ever he was so,
He must henceforward, be my mortal foe.

Fran.
How? his mortal foe Sir? you cannot sure
Be so ingrate, to him which sought to cure
Your love-sick soul, with so much care and pains,
As if that he, thereof shoo'd reap the gains.
Ah Heav'ns! is't possible that one shoo'd love,
And yet with zeal, so for another move?
What said he not, or what did he omit,
Which might be able, my consent to get?

Prince.
He is a Traytor, Madam, and I must
Both, to my passion, and his sin be just.

Fran.
He is no Traytour Sir, his honest soul,
Woo'd rather die, then do a thing so foul.

Prince.
Instead of aid, and giving me relief,
He has usurp't my place, and mockt my grief.

Fran.
He has not it usurp't, it is his due,
And fitter too for him, then 'tis for you.

Exeunt.