University of Virginia Library

The Fourth Act.

Enter Arcon, Polyn. Herac. Attendants and Countrey-Poet.
Poet.
Let man of might sit down in dainty Arbor,
Where trees are trim'd as Perriwig is by Barbor;
And Huntsmen soon shall come with Horns call'd bugle
Which are but few, because we will be frugle.
[Ex. Poet.

Arcon.
Well! we will be directed:
This Wood has various places of delight,
It can afford both privacy and pleasure.
The Call begins—

Enter two Forresters.
The Call at distance representing the sound of Horns by Instrumental Musick.
1. Forr.
Heark, heark! the Call! at distance it appears
So gently that it softly courts our Ears.
Whilst Echo newly waken'd with the noise
Does drowsily reverberate the Voice.

[The call agen louder.
2. Forr.
Now 'tis come nearer, and does reach the Sky:
Objects grow greater by their being nigh.

1. Forr.
Woods tremble with the Wind, as if they were
For some of their Inhabitants in fear.

2. Forr.
For one of them, they well may fearful seem,
For I my self did help to harbour him.

1. Forr.
If so, you can with ease inform me then,
Of what head is he?

2. Forr.
A brave Hart of ten.

1. Forr.
But do his Port and Entry's promise Game?

2. Forr.
That both his Slote and Fumers do proclaim.

A single Recheat winded.
1. Forr.
Heark! the Recheat! the Stagg now quits his lair,
And sprightly bounds into the open Air.

Musick expresses the Chase by Voices and Instruments like hollaing and winding of Horns.
2. Forr.
Now, now the Doggs in a full Cry pursue
The Hart as fast as he does them eschew,
Whilst they with hollow mouths, foretel his fall;
And in a consort Chime his Funeral.
Prethee let's take our stand here.

1. Forr.
No; they are at a loss, let's to e'm—

[Exeunt.
Enter Huntress.
Hollaing and shouting within.
Huntr.
The Dogs when at a loss their Voice suppress'd,
And by that silence soon their fault confess'd,
Most of e'm were Stanch-Hounds; and it is strange,
They made a loss which never hunted change:
But now th'ave got the Game agen in view,
And do with violence the Chase renew;
Now, now, the Stag is more in danger far
Of sinking soon. Relapses fatal are.

[Huntsmen within]
There Blew-cap, there, there, there, So ho, ho.

Huntr.
Heark! heark! The noise is now more lively grown,
Their Clamour shews the Stag is plucking down.
He sinks, he sinks: their Voice proclaim his fall,
As Thunder speaks a Monarch's Funeral.

A Noise of Dogs representing the Death of the Stag.
Enter two Forresters, four Hunters and Four Huntresses with the Stagg's head.
1. Forr.
They have made both Essayes.

2. Forr.
A brave fat Dear.

1. Huntr.
See the Stag's head which so did spread his beame,
The small trees did seem to envy him.

1. Forr.
When the Relayes were set of Hound and Horse,

2. Forr.
We all resolv'd to Hunt it out at force.

1. Hunt.
When first we rouz'd him, and he fled, the wind
Was with the Doggs left equally behind.

1. Forr.
But when the Game their following sight out-went,
The Doggs pursu'd him hotly by the scent.

2. Forr.
Then weary'd, to a Bay he quickly fell;
And in a Groan his Tragedy did tell.

1. Forr.
Nature with Musick did that Groan out-vy,
A quire of Birds did sing his Obsequie.

Chorus
That Chorus was (for fear they should
Forget their melting strain)
Taught by the Eccho's of the Wood
To sing it o're again.

Poet.
Now for our Dance, wherein we have no small-hope,
Because it does both Amble, Trot and Gallop.

A Dance.
Hera.
This entertainment's parcel-gilt, made up
Of various Diversion.

Polyn.
We have had a Countrey Muse, who
Has set up with the help of a Town Poet.

Arcon.
Since all is done, 'tis time we shou'd retire;
Polynices reward him, we'l away;
We must not keep too long a Holy-day

[Ex. Omnes.
Enter Celania, Leucippe and Cunopes.
Celan.
Heark! heark, The Grass-Hoppers—Philander's gone,
Gone to the Wood to gather Mulberies, I'le finde
Him out to morrow.

Leuc.
Alas! how shall we do to get her home?

Celania
Sings.
The Heifer was lost in the Green-Wood
In the Green-Wood, in the Green-Wood
Where she had gone astray.
By a bank of Straw-berryes She stood
Lowing till break of day.
Then did the Straw-berryes upon her smile
And sweetly seem'd to beg for Cream the while.

Cela.
Is not this a fine Song?

Leuc.
O, a very fine one.

Cunop.
So fine I'm sure it sets my Mouth a Water.

Celan.
I can sing twenty more.

Leuc.
I think you can.

Celan.
Yes truly can I. Are you not a Taylor?

Cunop.
A Taylor, Madam! Troth I think I am none,
Because I eat so little bread: I'm sure
I have not touch'd a bit these two dayes.

Leuc.
Fy! You must humour her! Say you are a Taylor.

Cunop.
Must I then lye to call my self a Thief?
Well, Madam, I am a Taylor.

Celan.
Where's my Wedding gown?

Cunop.
I'le bring it home to Morrow.

Celan.
Do! very early! I must be abroad else.
To call the Maids and pay the Musick too;
'Twill never thrive else: but suppose Philander
Is taken, he must dy then.
She Sings.
D'ye know Philander?

Cunop.
Know him! Yes, yes,
Wou'd I cou'd see him, that I might renew
My old acquaintance with him.

Celan.
Is't not a fine Young-Gentleman?

Cunop.
Too fine it seems to bear me Company?

Leucip.
By no means Cross her: She'l be then distemper'd
Far worse then now She seems.

Celan.
You have a Sister?

Cunop.
Yes, and a handsom one; of my Complexion.

Celan.
Many are now with Child by him; yet I
Keep close as any Cockle. All are Boys,
And must be Eunuch'd for Musicians,
To sing the Battles of the King of Pigmies:
They say he lately conquer'd all the Cranes:
And took e'm pris'ners with his Lime-twigs.

Cuno.
'Tis very strange!

Celan.
As ere you heard: but say nothing.
Come hither—You are a wise man.

Cuno.
So, so, Madam. I have a spice of Policy:
But yet I fear, I hardly shall be made
A privy-Councellour, because I let
Philander 'scape.

Celan.
And are not you the Master of a Ship?

Cunop.
Yes! here's the Vessel! 'tis a man of War.
[Views himself.
Only it wants due stowage. I am hungry,
My Guts are grown Artillery, and roare
Like Cannons.

Celan.

[Exeunt.
Enter Philander, (as from a Bush.
Philan.
I did not think so little time could have
Restor'd a health so much decay'd: Methinks,
I am stronger then I was before, and long
Till we incounter, as if Valours heat
Grew (like a feavers) greater by a Meale.
Cosin thou hast built a Buttress, to Support
My falling Fabrick, and to crush thy own.
My thrist's allay'd: but, Theocles, thy bloud
Must quench the draught rais'd by the heat of Love!
—He promis'd to come double sworded. That
Which he refuses I will kill him with.
One of us with this Ev'ning sun must set.

Enter Theocles with Two Swords.
Theo.
How d'ye Sir?

Philan.
A little stomack sick;
But opening of a Vein in you will cure me.

Theo.
Be your own Surgeon; here are Instruments.

Phil.
I've given you to great a trouble Sir,

Theo.
'Tis but a debt to Honour and my duty.

Philan.
I wish you would so well consult your Honour,
In your affection as your enmity,
Then my Embraces not my blows should thank you.

Theo.
Either well done is a brave recompence.

Philan.
I shall not be behind hand with the payment.

Theo.
These soft defyances oblige me Sir,
When I am wounded, some such words as these
Will fall like Oyle into my Wounds, and cure e'm,
But for your rougher terms they are like bullets
Chawl'd into poison: Let our Language be
Serene, and if a Tempest must be seen
Let our Swords shew it: here I have brought you one,
But if you feel your self not fitting yet,
I'le stay till you recover health.

Phil.
Cosin! thou art so brave an Enemy,
That none is fit to kill thee but a Kins-man;
I'm well and lusty: Choose your Sword, I have
Advantage of you in my Cause.

Theo.
Choose you Sir!

Phil.
Wilt thou exceed in all? Or dost thou do it,
To make me spare thee?

Theo.
If you think so Cozen,
You are deceiv'd, for I shall not spare you.

Phila.
That's well said; this is mine then;
And be sure I shall strike home.

Theo.
I'le give you cause enough! Is there ought else to say?

Phila.
This only, and no more Sir: If there be
A place prepar'd for those who sleep in Honour,
I wish his weary Soul, who falls, may have it,
Whilst the Survivor does enjoy the pleasure,
Of an unrivall'd Love: Give me your hand.

Theo.
Philander here! This hand shall neve more
Come near you with such Friendship.

they fight: Horns within, they stop.
Phila.
Once more stand off.

Theo.
Hark Cosin! Hark! Our folly has undon us.

Phila.
Why?

Theo.
The Prince's returning from the Celebration
Of his Nativity. Dear Sir retreat
Into your Bush agen: if you are seen
You perish instantly, for breaking Prison.
And I (if you reveal me) for contempt of
The Prince's Order.

Phila.
I'le no more be hidden; I know your cunning and I know
Your Cause I'le not refer this great adventure
To a Second Tryal. Stand upon your Guard.

Theo.
You are not Mad?

Phila.
Let what will Threaten me; The beauty of Heraclia
Makes me scorn the frowns of Fortune—for Heraclia.

Theo.
Then come, what may come, you shall see I can as well Fight
As talk! only I fear the Law will have the honour of our
Ends—Philander—at thy Life!

Phila.
Guard well thy own.

Enter Arcon, Polynices, Heraclia, Attendants and Guards.
Arcon.
What insolent and Unadvis'd Men
Are these, which here attempt each other's life
Against the tenour of my Laws? you both
Deserve to dye for striving thus to kill each other.

Phila.
I know it Sir, we are both
Contemners of your Mercy! I'm Philander
Who broke your Prison. This is Theocles.

Arcon.
Ha!

Phila.
A bolder Traitor never trod your ground.

Polyn.
Alas? I have been generous in vain.

Phil.
'Tis he contemns you, and in this disguise
Forgetting your command attends that Lady,
Whose Servant (if there be a right in seeing
And first bequeathing of the Soul) I am;
Yet he dares think her his, which treachery
I call'd him here to answer. If you e're
Deserv'd the Attributes of great and just,
Bid us to fight agen: and you shall see
Such Justice as you'l envy; then you may
Devest me of my life: I'le wooe ye'to it.

Herac.
What Miracle is this? Both fight for me?

Arcon.
You are a bold defyer of your Fate.

Theo.
Your breath of Mercy Sir, I shall not Court,
I can as resolutely dy as you command it;
Only let me say I am no Traitor, Tho' Philander
Calls me so; Unless my Love be Treason. Then indeed
I'm the greatest Traitor, and am proud on't:
If you askt why I slighted your command,
Ask why I love, and why that Ladie's Fair?

Herac.
Can both be kindl'd into Love by me?
And Love inflame e'm into so much hate:

[Aside.
Phila.
Monarch! as you are just shew us no Mercy:
Let us expire together; only Sir
Let Theocles a while before me fall
That I may tell my Soul he shall not have her.

Arcon.
Your wish is granted, he offended most,
And first shall dye: nor shall you long survive him.
Polynices, secure them till the Morning,
Then they shall wake to sleep for ever.

Polyn.
Good Sir be pleas'd to moderate their doom.

Arcon.
You supplicate in vain, convey e'm hence.

Polyn.
I shall obey you Sir, But Heaven can tell
With what reluctancy: Now Madam you must
Intercede for e'm, or else your face
Wherein the World reads Beauty yet will be
With Curses blotted of succeeding Youth,
For these lost Gentlemen.

[Ex. Polyn. Philan. Theocles.
Hera.
My Face is guiltless of their ruine; but
The Misadventure of their own Eyes kills e'm,
Yet I have pity and will plead for e'm,
Good Sir, retract your Sentence, if they fall
Vertue will suffer in e'm.

Arcon.
Why should you intercede, if they survive,
The publick danger will be kept alive.
I'm sorry Neice they love you!

Hera.
'Tis their Fate,
Can Love to me deserve my Uncles hate;
Should they for loving me untimely fall
Tho' now Heraclia they may gentle call,
Their Groanes will Speak me Cruel at the last,
And every Sigh my reputation blast.

Arcon.
Suppose I should permit e'm both to live,
'Twould but a little time their death reprieve:
They'ld love you still and loving you would Fight,
Rivals affections do to death Excite,
Whilst they Survive they will foment that Fire
Which in their Ashes quickly would Expire.

Hera.
But when that Flame Sir with their Ashes dyes,
Another Flame will from my Beauty rise;
And that which Kindl'd their unhappy-Love,
To other's hate will Provocation prove;
Their death's will make me loath'd; my honour shall
Contract a blackness from their Funeral.

Arcon.
Since with such Violence you intercede,
One shall find pardon, though th'other bleed,
Your breath shall have the Liberty to save
One, and condemn the other to the Grave.

Hera.
The Death of one alone then shall suffice,
I'le make him the Survivors Sacrifice.
The Noble Theocles shall live—but Why?
Philander is as much too good to dy:
Distracted thus I know not which to choose,
One I would save, but not the other loose:
May not both live?

Arcon.
Not in regard of them,
But for your sake, I do not both condemn,
You cannot Marry both, and when I save
But one, You can no more from Hymen Crave;
By Love's great Law you can but one Enjoy:
Him you must quickly choose or both destroy.
[Exit Arcon.

Hera.
With riged honour, gentle pitty joyn'd
To plead for those whom he to death design'd,
He thinks I spake from principles of Love
Now both of e'm I from my thoughts remove.
He told me I by one should be enjoy'd
Which partial Fortune that I may avoyd,
'Ile Equally permit e'm both to dye,
That so I may do neither Injury.

[Ex. Princess.