 | The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards |  |
Act the fifth.
Scene first.
Enter Hermegild, Thesina, Paradine, Rhodolinda.Thes.
Shall I belye my owne silence?
Her.
Be sudden in your speech! confirme my words:
Then dispose e'en of my wealth and person.
I will consent to matrimony; make
Any vse of this new interest.
Thes.
Sir, you'll forget my merit in this danger?
Herm.
Neuer.—My Lord, I haue discouer'd all.
See, how aguish her guilt hath made her.
How she trembles like a frosty Russian
On a hill. Nay, Lady, nere scatter thus
Your wilde lookes. Confesse the truth, and you'll gaine
Mercy. Valdaura (whose Soule Heauen keepe
From purging fires) hath told her Lord; the King
Knowes of his wanton stealth with our good Queene.
To th'mistake, and whose secrecy to doubt
But yours, our reason cannot yet informe vs.
Thes.
Thus kneeling, I confesse with penitence,
'Twas I reueal'd it to the King.
Rhod.
Teare forth her eies, and let her then grope out
Her way to hell—
Herm.
Stay, deare Madame!
Rhod.
Paradine is poyson'd, who knowes, but she
Doth amply share in that guilt too?
Herm.
At my humble sute, containe your fury!
We shall discouer all. My noble Lord,
It is a griefe that will depriue my life
Of many yeeres, to thinke, I'm held by your
Suspect, an Agent in that practice.
Parad.
I haue reueal'd the euidence, that doth
Perswade my Creede.
Her.
What, Lady, doe you know of this?—Speak with
Courage, I am your safety.
Thes.
I saw the King reach to Valdaura's hand
A poysonous violl; and with religious hints,
Taught her to mixe it in her husbands draught.
Parad.
Hah!
Herm.
Persist in my instructions!
Aside.
Thes.
'Twas that night when he enioy'd her person—
Parad.
Inioy'd her! how?
Thes.
As you inioy'd the Queene.
Parad.
Heauen! will these miracles ne'r cease?
Rhod.
I shall conuert to stone!
Herm.
Now retire, Thesina, till I haue begg'd
Your free restorement to the Queene's mercy.
Thes.
My Lord, you'll not forget your kind promise
Of matrimony.
I'ue nought else, to trouble my remembrance.
Away, Away!
Exit Thesina.
Rhod.
What did remaine suspence, is heere confirm'd:
My forehead feeles as rugged now as his.
Herm.
Now Sir, y'haue heard such reall circumstance,
As needs must settle your beliefe, and free
My heart, from your vnkind dislike.
Par.
Valdaura's damn'd! she howles so loude, that she
Disturbes all hell! O periur'd Whore!
Rhod.
Now Paradine! Instruct thy selfe with thoughts.
Is't euident he euer could affect
Thy person with sincere dotage, yet thus
Betray thy strength in thy Fort? Where thy
Honor still stood sentinell?
Herm.
I haue other motiues to teach you doubt
His loyaltie in loue. Which my fond heart
Cannot conceale, though't would aduantage much
My owne profit. He hath of late, hung thus—
Vpon my neck; vntill his amorous weight
Became my burden: and then lay stabbering o're
My lips; like some rhumatick Babe. This sport
My serious braine abhor'd. 'Twas my wonder
(Since you are cal'd his Minion) he could ere
Affect my looke. I that am like coffing
Winter, old, and froward; you the darling
Of the lusty Spring.
Rho.
Speak, is that Bag, that should containe thy Gall,
Shrunke vp; hast thou nothing bitter in thee?
Thou art farre, farre more opportunely stor'd
With time and place for thy reuenge, then wee.
Ith' middle age of day; when the bright Sunne
Most powerfully doth warme the world; in thy
Secret Clozet he takes his vsuall sleepe.
He lyes his easie monument.
Herm.
And then enioy a Queene, with all that doth
Belong to her atchieuement, or her birth.
As for my seruices, they merit no
Reward. I know my owne creation much
Vnfit for Court affaires. If you but wrap
Me in a shirt of haire, then seate me in
A darke and gloomy Cell, where I may tumble o're
Some deepe voluminous Rabbin, you make
Me safe, and happy.
Rhod.
Doe't, Paradine! and Fame no Trumpet then
Shall neede to speake thy praise. Thy Country will
Afford thee power to sanctifie the chiefe
O'th' dayes within our Kalender.
Herm.
And to thy memory high Statues build,
'Bout which our Noblest virgins once a yeere
Shall dance in Circles, and sing, vntill they make
The Marble mooue, like to those loose Quarries;
Which ore-heard Orpheus and his Harp. Or if
These cannot inspire heroique fury,
Yet argue thus; you knew his Bed, but by
Mistake; which was our guilt, not yours; and for
Our Countries benefit contriu'd. But he
Defil'd your sheets in the salt pride of lust.
Horror! this would incense the temperate Doue;
Turne all his moysture into gall; teach him
To weare spurres on his heeles, and make him fierce
In Duell, as a British Cocke.
Parad.
Fier! fier! and warme blood!
Exit.
Herm.
Follow, follow him, my deare Soueraigne!
Adde new heate vnto his rage. And d'ye heare!
Since he is poyson'd, 'twere most fit, some learn'd
His health.
Rhod.
I heard him say, he is already furnish'd
With a powerfull med'cine.
Herm.
Should you now forget your Royall promise,
I lose all my industrious merit,
And remaine a sacrifice to loue.
Rhod.
Dost thou grow iealous?
Herm.
Valdaura now is seuer'd from her Soule:
And Paradine is abler in delights
Of Youth, more moyst and amorous then I.
Rhod.
Away foole I seale thy safety with my lip.
exit.
Herm.
Thus Nurces hush their froward babes asleep.
Shortly she'le present me with a Corall-club,
A Whistle strung with Bells. These femall Arts
Can ne'r my darke authenticke practice cheate.
Paradine must die! So I still secure
My hopes. When that sad houre arriues,
Wherein the poysonous draught must worke,
No charmed med'cine can resist its strength.
I hugge my Genius! 'Twas a subtill reach,
To tell him, that the King hath horn'd his brow:
For that will more incense his wrath, and aggrauate
The Queenes reuenge. The weight I beare, doth make
My motion slow: slow as the Snaile I tread,
Who trauailes with his tenement on's head.
Exit.
Enter Grimold in new Clothes, Gondibert, Vollterri.
Gond.
The King has pay'd him all's arreres.
Vollt.
'Twas by Thesina's sute to Hermegild:
The Snake has cast his skin too now.
Grim.
I, Sir, 'tis a poore Snake that cannot cast,
His skin once in a Summer.
Cun.
'Slight, here's Grimold! Didst not thou say he was dead?
Cour.
But I haue heard since, his ghost walks.
Frol.
Look! 't has 'thas found the hiddē treasure then, which
Made it walke; for the Ghost hath bought it selfe
New clothes.
Grimo.
Nay, nay, stay, Gentlemen! Let vs forget
Old quarrels, then end our new acquaintance.
We are for the Countrey now. Ile but tell ye
A few of your faults, and leaue th'amendment
To your owne leasures: but you all thinke
Y'are wiser then I.
Cuny.
VVe should abuse our iudgements else.
Grim.
Mark! This is a new Court-thrift: when you are
Loth to maintaine flatterers, you publish
Your selues with your owne prayse. Lay your fingers
Here—Not a word, lest I returne ye a blow.
I know ye cannot speake without a complement.
Vollt.
They vse it in their prayers, they.
Gond.
Cunymond, in one single complement
So much wasted his Lungs, that I was faine
To call for Aqua vitæ to recouer
His breath.
Grim.
I'ue heard you haue transported from Paris
The Geometricall cringe, and the Art
Of numbring the haires vpon your chins.
Vollt.
And of starching your Beards.
Gond.
Yes, and of persuming your very shadowes.
Grim.
And they say, it is your custome to sleepe
In Pomatum Masques.
Vollt.
And that you paint your prety Vis'gnomies.
Grim.
Yes, and colour them so red, that you seeme
Before a Country Inne.
Gond.
Y' abuse Astrology too; for you clip
Black-Taffeta into Starres; and for a foile
To your beauty; fix'em in seuerall Regions
Of your face.
Gri.
Which makes it look, like the picture of Doomes-day;
When all the Planets are darkened.
Vollt.
Nay, nay, stay awhile!
Grim.
Leaue off your ijgging motion, when you mix
Your selues in a salute; your bodyes seeme
To dance vpon your knees. You pinion vp
Your Elbowes thus:—like Pullets trust vpon
A spit. Then wreath your Hammes in thus; and mooue
With a discreet leasure, as if you meant
To number all the Pibbles in the street.
And then you fleere, as if y' had wash'd your gummes
In vineger. This you admire for gesture
Of the newest fashion. I say, 'tis skiruy!
For he that greets a Lady so, does looke
Like a Sope-boyler, vpon a Close-stoole.
Vollt.
If you will take Physicke for your soules health,
Retire into that part of the Kingdome
Which lies farthest from France.
Gond.
He counsels well for the French ayre hath made
Many of our Gentry drunke.
Gri.
And now moue hence; but with your lips sow'd vp,
For feare of a complement. You two shall straite
Take horse with me, and be billited in
My Quarter. Stay, Gentlemen! One word more!
This is a hot Climate: when you must needs
Marry to increase your Tribe, your best way
Is to goe a wooing in the Citie:
And vse to play with their bables.
Exeunt omnes.
A Canopy is drawne, the King is discouer'd sleeping ouer papers: enter Paradine with his sword drawne.
Parad.
To make him bleed, and leaue his arteries
(Where the delighted spirits walke) shrunke vp,
Vntill they curle with heate. The wither'd frame
Straite to conuert to dust. Then th'vmerous winde,
To fan it o're the world. Speake, iust Heauen!
Is this fit vsage for a King? Cassius
Was rash: perhaps to gaine noise at's funerall;
Or in's Elizian fields; beneath a pleasant Hedge
To tell some prattling ghost what he had done—
Hah! but Brutus, noble Brutus! the pride
Of Arts and VVarre: so temperate, his soule
VVas more harmonious then the Spheares. Instruct
(Heroique Lord) thy young Pupill! VVhy did
The mighty Cesar fall, by thy cold wrath?
All silent as the night! He sleepes: before
Him too, those papers that concerne my house
Affaires; and my Officiall rule in State.
Here he comments on my Letters! here with
Thrifty documents limits my expence.
Can this indulgent care be counterfeit?
And meerely carry a pretence of loue? he made
My wife a blacke adulteresse. O horror!
Yet who knowes, but 'twas rather his reuenge,
Then lust; a furious riot, after that
He knew I whor'd his Queene—
He blinds his owne face with a scarfe, sheathes his sword, and then kneeles.
Sir! My Lord the King! Sir!
Hah! Paradine! What witty emblem's this?
The more to certifie thy loue, dost thou
Appeare blind.
Parad.
O Sir, do not mocke my penitence, nor seeme
Thus to disguize the knowledge of that crime,
Which hath defil'd my modest bloud, and makes
Me now asham'd t'incounter with your eyes.
Albo.
He is drunke! Maudlin drunke!
Parad.
Sir, I could creepe aliue into my Tombe,
And mixe society with Ghosts, whilst I
Haue yet warme motion left, could I but hide
My guilt from your perspicuous sight.
Albo.
By heauen drunke with Cider, or with thinne Beere;
That lookes like th'vrine of a Babe: I'm sure
The Corsicke Grape infuseth no
Such whining passion.
Par.
Those immateriall powers, that see the thoughts of men,
When growing in their hearts, can witnesse I
Abus'd your Royall bed, but by a dire
Mistake.
Albo.
Hah!
Parad.
Your blacke adulterous Queene betray'd
Me to her lust by wicked Arts.
Albo.
This is a sober passion, but implies
Something that is horrid.
Parad.
Had not heroique warre taught me t'affect
No rage, but noble; she and Hermegild
Had intic'd me now to lengthen this your sleepe,
Vntill the day of generall accounts.
Alb.
Suspect must now be rash. Make your face known!
Snatches off his Scarfe.
He blushes like a Bride; whom through her thin
Curtaines, the peeping Sunne beholds in soft
And seeme to know all. Paradine, 'twas farre
From my coniecture, that a heart so much
Oblig'd vnto my loue as thine, should wrong
My Honour in a sense, which but to mould
In words would teach my tongue to stammer, and
Deafen all that heare it.
Parad.
Thunder and sulpherous fire snatch my cold limmes
From this dull earth. Sir, whilst my soule affords
Me reason, and can direct me vnto whom
My true alleageance is a debt, kill me!
When I am mad, I shall forget all duty,
And refuse t'obey your Royall Charter.
Thrust your good Sword home, till my heart shall kisse
Your Hilts. Are you so slow in iustice? Thinke,
How by a darke mistake, I whor'd your Queene:
Whor'd your Queene! O prodigious phrase!
Albo.
Houle, meager Wolues! empty Tygers! let the hoarce
Thracian Bull bellow, till he rent his throat;
And the hot mountaine-Lion rore, vntill
Their clamour wake the dead. The resurrection
Is too long delayd, since we want horror
To celebrate this newes. Good! I haue now
Decreed it. Draw thy bright weapon!—
Parad.
For what dire vse?
Albo.
That we may meet in single battaile here,
And struggle till we want our Soules.
Parad.
Though this high inticement charmes my blood, like
The musicke of the Drumme. Yet my remembrance
Calls you King; My Royall Master. I would
Not ioyne rebellion and ingratitude
To the prolixe number of my sinnes.
Albo.
O fond, indulgent Boy! I mourne at this
Does it become my great being, and my
Glorious name in story, to offend
Without resistance? Draw: and be nimble
In thy motion—
Parad.
I dare not so disgrace my Religion,
And my loue.
Albo.
Tis time that I were dead, for I shall else
Outliue my chiefe prerogatiue. I haue
Forgot how to command. Vnsheath thy Sword!
Or this breach of Duty shall teach me think,
I ne'r inioy'd thy reall loue, and 'twas
Not a mistake, that vsher'd thee to sinne betweene
My sheetes, but a considerate lust—
Parad.
No prouocation like to this, could tempt
A danger from my Arme—
He drawes.
Albo.
Why dost thou dally thus with feeble motion?
Beare vp! and vse more violence!
Parad.
Some surgery from heauen! Are you hurt, Sir?
You willingly oppos'd your brest against
My steele, and neuer sought t'indanger me
With yours.
Albo.
'Thast perform'd, what my wish did prophecy:
I'm prickd heere, about the heart; and my veines
Grow empty.
Par.
Then glorious war, and all proud circumstance,
That giues a souldier noyse, for euermore farewell—
Falling on his sword.
Albo.
Hold, Paradine. Tis my last sute, that thou suruiue
To minister a iust reuenge on those
Whom I proscribe, helpe my quiuering Limmes,
And seate me in the Chaire—
Parad.
Shall posteritie read it in story
The first ith' List of those, that gatherd noyse
In warre, can be thus couetous t'expire
In silence darke. Fall on my fatall point,
And yet command that I suruiue the Tragedy!
Albo.
'Twere in me an affectation triuiall
To cherish life, now Rhodolinda's false.
For should I still preserue my soule in flesh,
I know my mercy is so fond to her;
I should forgiue her all: and wert thou dead,
My hope were then depriu'd of future iustice.
Liue to reuenge her falshood. I know thy heart
So sincere and noble, that I suspect not thee
A sharer in her guilt. When thou
Didst first confesse th'adulterous crime, ioyn'd with
Thy owne mistake, through Hermegilds deepe Art,
My faith conceiu'd the truth: for thy Nature
Is much too blunt, and credulous for Court.
Par.
Should I but speak each cunning circumstance—
Albo.
Containe thy breath! To heare that told, would make
My soule wander in my last iourney.
'Till thy relation brought it to my Eare,
I neuer knew her false.
Parad.
Still my amazement doth increase! Were you
Not told of this before!
Albo.
My knowledge only learnt it of thy Tongue.
Par.
Stay! Nor with Valdaura, you did ne'r proiect
My death by poyson?
Albo.
Neuer.
Parad.
Yet one reply, then make my ioy exceed
My wonder. Did you neuer in my bed,
Commit a lustfull stealth?
Albo.
Angels in that, are not more free from guilt.
What Potter made this earthy Skull! pardon
(Deare Valdaura) my dull suspect! Sing out
Thy Hymnes in heauen, and neuer listen more
To my fond speech; for they haue made mee mad!
Albo.
I cannot gripe the Ayre. Marke how it steales
Through all my knotty Fingers—
Parad.
Extasie!
Albo.
Now my last, and short minute is ariu'd;
I doe, resigne my Crowne—
Parad.
To whom sir?
Albo.
To him I hate. But be thou sure, he weare
It not 'till neere his death: for it's a happinesse
To liue enthron'd, but tis not safe to dye
A King.
Parad.
He doth peruert my sense.
Albo.
Let the Drum cease! Ile haue no more battailes.
He that to waste his triuiall rage, doth fight
A battaile, rides a Hawking with the diuell.
Parad.
Mad as the Northerne winde!
Albo.
He sends a thousand drinking Animals
To take their flight ith' ayre, whilst little blacke
Diuels (d'ye not see 'em?) They looke like Rauens.
Marke how they prey on those immortall Fowle,
And plume 'em in their Talents! I doe not like
This Falconry: it is too sad a game
For sinners—Oh, oh, oh!—
Dies.
Parad.
There dy'd the noblest Trophey of our war!
The Lombards now haue lost their victory.
So hardy of creation, his heart-strings
Were as Cordage, tough; crack'd like a Cable,
When the frighted Barke starts from the Anchor.
All that are nours'd in warre, shall mourne for thee.
Our Ensignes now we will of Cypresse make.
knocking.
Be hid. I'm sure this noyse can neuer wake him—
He puts him behind the Arras, opens the doore, enter Rhodolinda.
O, are ye come?
Rhod.
Thou hast a wilde aspect! Is it done?
Parad.
He has paid for his wharfage already,
And is now entring Charons Boate.
Rhod.
Th'art precious as my Soule!
He opes the Arras.
Parad.
There's the old Face.
Rhod.
He lookes like a pale Country Virgin
That long'd to eate Morter. Our chiefe designe
Is finish'd: but thou must adde one knot more
T'obliege my gratitude, and then we shall
Triumph with safety Hermegild must die,
He knowes too much.
Parad.
It is as if the Parcæ spoke. If there
Be any other whom your enuy, or
Your hate would haue dismist the world, make him
But knowne, and he is numbred with the dead.
Rhod.
Deare Paradine, I sure shall rauish thee,
My appetite is growne so fierce. Let me
Begin with thy moyst lip—
Pulls her to kisse him in the Chaire.
Par.
Let's to't like Monkeys, or the recking Goat.
Rhod.
Oh! oh! oh! Helpe! helpe!
Both are bloody about their mouthes:
Parad.
Cease your loud clamor, Royall Whore.
Rhod.
Thou didst eate my lips.
Parad.
Thy flesh is sowre, musty; more tainted then
A Carion in a phlegmatick ditch: for else
Like th'Anthropophagus, I had deuour'd thee vp.
Thy swarthy soule—
Stabs her with his Poniard.
Rhod.
Oh! oh! oh!—
Parad.
For Albouine my Royall Master, this—
And this to pacifie Valdaura's Ghost—
Rhod.
Oh, oh, oh!
Parad.
So hard and stony is thy heart, that it
Reuerts the point of my bright steele.
Rhod.
Mercy Heauen!
She dies.
Parad.
Since thou hast receiu'd my iustice, I wish
Thee mercy too—
Knocking.
Hermegild
within.
My Lord.
Parad.
Tis Hermegild, now I shall end my chiefe
Discouery. What a full Sepulcher is this—
Carries her in.
Now I must practise my disguize. Reuert
Knocking agen.
The Springe twice, and you may enter.
Counterfeits a sicke voice, sitting.
Enter Hermegild, Thesina.
Thes.
My Lord, I haue lost my honor in your seruice,
You may chuse one that shall affect you worse.
Herm.
Lady, this is no time to woo: but
D'ye thinke I'm so prophane to violate
My vow? Nimbly depart, I doe coniure
Your absence with this kisse—
Thes.
If you should proue false—
Exit Thesina.
Herm.
Slight, these Wenches at
Fifteene, are as riotous as Elephants.
Marry a Court Kitten! There he sits! Hah, sick!
My sweet Lord, how thriues your health? D'your pulses
Still preserue their temp'rate musicke? haue you
Effected yet our great businesse?
Parad.
The King is dead, that sanguine instrument
Herm.
The Lawrell, Mertle, and the Bay shall still
Cold and naked stand before the Winters
Frosty breath; still strip their Boughes, to make
Your head triumphant wreathes. Where is the Queene?
Me thinks (my Lord) your body and your minde
Seeme much disturb'd.
Parad.
Oh, oh! the poyson works—
Her.
Alas, my sweet deare Lord! (precious med'cine!)
He cannot possibly suruiue the next
Minute. Does it destroy your strength?
Parad.
Oh, oh! It skorches all my entrailes vp:
As if like Porcia I had swallowed coales.
I spit scumme, such as o're th'hot Caldron boyles—
Her.
And are you fastned in the chaire with weaknes?
Parad.
I cannot rise. A stiffe conuulsion in
My Sinnewes fetters all my limmes—
Herm.
Hah! hah! ha!
Parad.
O heauen, will you permit him laugh?
Her.
I know th'Ingredients of thy poysnous draught.
'Twas I that gaue it to thy wife. 'Twas I
Did counsell her to mingle 't in thy wine,
When thou wert hot, and all thy Pores open
As thy mouth.
Parad.
Oh, oh, oh!
Herm.
Doe, groane, till thou raise an eccho in this
Square roofe. Ere long thy Ribs will start from thy
Loose Chine, thy lanke Belly swell into a hill.
Parad.
O horror! horror! Is Heauen asleepe?
Herm.
The King ne'r knew of thy adultrous crime.
'Twas I told it to Valdaura, and made
Her thinke, thy guilt proceeded not from a
Mistake, but from thy wilfull lust. I'ue strung
Thee through subtill Labyrinths, t'inuolue
Thy senses; and now I triumph o're thy fate.
This is Italian Spleene.
Parad.
Had I but strength to actuate my reuenge?
Herm.
Good, dull Souldier! why didst thou leaue the Camp,
Thy rusty Moriō there; thy batter'd Corselet;
And thy shiuer'd Lance, t'amble here at Court
In slippery silkes; to walke in cloudy mists
Of perfum'd ayre? Tis I haue shak'd thy braines
That heretofore were thicke as Curds, into
A pale, thin whay.
Parad.
Draw neere, and let me then but kill thee—
Herm.
Troth, thou art so feeble now, that were I kill'd
By thee, I scarce should thinke that I were dead.
Paradine rises, and snatches Hermegilds sword from his side.
Parad.
No! that shall arriue vnto the test. Dog! grim
As th'angry Fiend, that must deuoure thy soule!
I am not poyson'd.
Herm.
Hah! does he counterfeit?
Parad.
See heere, what abiect ruines thou hast made
O'the noblest structures in the world—
He drawes the Arras, and discouers Albouine, Rhodolinda, Valdaura, dead in Chaires.
Her.
The Queene there too! O triuiall Arts with my
Owne Myne I'ue blowne my selfe e'en into dust!
Parad.
I will now see, if thou canst bleed like things
mortall—
Herm.
Depriu'd of my defence! If th'ast a soule
(Great as thy fame) restore my Sword.
Parad.
Thou bark'st against the Moone! I will requite
Was iust, that thus betray'd thee to my mirth.
There, Stygian Dogge—
Wounds him.
Herm.
Oh, oh! whilst I haue warmth, Ile moue with
violence—
Parad.
Where now are all the subtill Tropheys of
Thy braine? Plots, darke as hell! proiections grimme!
Such, as threatned Nature, and seem'd to fright
The Genius of the world. Now, now preuent
These dire salutes—
Herm.
Returne my Sword, then manage Steeples like
To Pikes; yet, Ile affront thy fury—
Par.
Hardy as the Scythians race, I greet thy heart—
Her.
I stagger, and am drunk with my owne blood!—
Parad.
Take my last anger, and good night!
(Falles.
Herm.
Oh, oh! thou hast stuck Needles in my heart!
Parad.
Now I doe swell with horror and sterne rage:
I will distract the whole world. Fire! fire! fire!
Murder, Treason, & incestuous rapes! Fire! fire!
Exit.
Herm.
I spie
A white Soule houering in the ayre! one when
Corporeall, was sure some humble Hermit
Here on earth. He's acquainted with the way
To Heauen: should mine take flight alone, I feare
'T would stray! Hoa! you, you that ascend the Spheares!
We sinners still seeme hoarce to Angels eares.
What, hoa! he turnes not yet: who knowes but he
Still liu'd in low Valleyes, built his Mansion
In some ag'd wall? but my path euer lay
On hills, where the good Patriarkes neuer trod.
Vaine Arts! Ambition in all sacred Schooles,
Is held the sinne of Heathens, and of Fooles.
He dies.
Gouer.
O dire and tragick sight! The King, the Queene
And faire Valdaura slaine!
Parad.
Heere's another obiect fit for wonder,
Though not for pitty.
Spurnes Hermegild.
Gou.
Hah! he dead too? Whence should these sorrowes flow?
Lay hold on Paradine.
Parad.
All stay. Ile bore his haggard soule that striues
With sawcy strength, to captiuate my Limmes:
Harke, the bigge drumme recouers breath, and speakes!
March on! The scatter'd foe retires, and all
The glorious Horse are slaine. I am magnanimous,
And high! O ye vnkind false starres! ye mocke
Poore Paradine! A few cleane Teares to wash
My sinnes away, and I am seene no more.
Gouern.
Ceaze on him; on forfeit of your liues!
Parad.
Their liues are forfeited to me—
He fights with the Guard, they wound and disarme him.
Heere, heere, it gauld my very heart!—
Gouernor.
Conuay him gently in, and vse all helpe
Of surgery to stop his wounds: for from
His mouth, wee must receiue the knowledge of
These fatall deeds. Some giue th'Allarum to
The Ports! You Siginors, leade to th'Cittadell;
Where, we'le proclaime Albouines young Issue
By's former wife, to bee his lawfull heire.
Wilde Fancy may proiect things strange and new:
But Time records no Tale so sad, and true.
FINIS.
| The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards | |