 | The Fair Favorite |  |
101
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Oramont, Amadore, severally.Amadore.
Amongst the numberless affairs of life,
Not one can I remember that so much
Concerns my happiness, as now to find
Thee Oramont.
Ora.
Inspir'd, thou dost foretel a joy
From the resentment of thy Soul: For sure
I am the first can give it to thy sence.
The Queen with soft appliances of love,
Is sent for by her Royal Lord. Men hope
He will invite her to his Bed.
Ama.
This is a joy indeed! The noble are
Inclin'd to gladness, when the vertuous taste
The just reward of their deserts.
Ora.
Methinks thou dost but temperately
Receive, what thou shouldst hastily devour.
Know, by his kind command, sh'ath laid aside
The holy Robes; and now appears as she
Already did possess, what onely expectation
Yet can boast to have.
Amad.
Thou hast declar'd enough to make me think
The Destinies have careful been of her,
Though not of thee, unlucky friend: Thy jealousies
Betray'd me to such false ignoble doubts,
As must undo us both; for the abuse
Of Ladies honors, never can be satisfied
With penitence, but Blood.
Ora.
What means my Friend?
Amad.
To chastise thee, for those unmanly, and
Too curious fears, that so have sulli'd the
Most fair complexion of thy Sisters fame.
Ora.
Thou hast but nam'd her Amadore,
And I already feel, a deadly weight upon
My heart, not 'cause I think my forward faith
Hath wrong'd her vertue with mistakes, but
That I find, it is with Reasons help, too well
Assur'd of her defects.
Amad.
Thy reason is but circumstantial,
False as a cowards fear, which multiplies
Each danger, that he would not meet until
It grows into impossibilities. Thy Sister I
Have seen, and know her to be pure, as first
Created light, new spreding Buds, and Flowers
Ne'er handled in their growth, are not
More innocently sweet: How fierce will then
My anger prove, when 'tis not onely exercis'd
In a revenge for that foul heresie,
With which thou didst infect my Soul, but
'Cause it took all quiet Peace from hers.
Ora.
With what Prophetick care, I fain would have
Preserv'd thee from her eyes. Now thou hast
Seen her, all the power of humane art cannot
Redeem thee from her charms. She hath
Bewitch'd thee to a doating love, and told thee
Tales as void of truth, as those which Syrens sing,
When listning Seamen perish in the Flood,
For what they foolishly believ'd.
Amad.
Can I hear this!
Shall I maintain fond Patience at such great
Expence of my vex'd spirits, carelesly
T'incourage other Men to slander her,
Whose pitty did redeem me from just bonds:
Advance thy Sword.
Draws.
Ora.
Stay Amadore; I knew not that she
Gave thee liberty, but that thou gavest me
Mine, my memory doth now confess with so
Much gratitude, I cannot be provoked
T'attempt thy life.
Amad.
Heavens! Why did you make me kind?
If to do good, draws on the consequence
Of doing ill, because I did procure
Thy liberty, am I oblig'd to take
A ceremonious gratitude for thy
Offence; forgiving all thy Sisters wrongs,
And those low jealousies did force from me.
Prepare—
Ora.
The furious winds are not
More senceless in a storm. What reputation will
Thy anger have, when it proceeds without
Dispute, not staying for the usual credit of
A cause. I shall believe th'ast none, unless
Discourse, and Reason give't authority.
Amad.
To tell thee what I saw, or what
Eumena said, were strait to lose the brave
Just cause of my revenge; for then
I know thou wouldst repent.
Ora.
I will not fight.
Amad.
O Fates! What poor unworthy enemies
Do you provide for me, Coward? Thy former
Sins shall unregarded pass, compar'd to this;
For now thou wilt commit strange sacriledge,
Steal from th'hearse of thy great Ancestor
All his victorious wreaths, and blast 'em with
The venome of a word.
Oramont draws.
Ora.
The Seals of Friendship are broken now—Let's not
Destroy our selves, like vain fantastick fools,
Thus in the publick view, but follow till I lead
Thee near a Grove; and though too late, thou shalt
Be taught, how soon thy angers flame will die,
Fed by the false fire of Eumena's eye.
Exeunt.
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Aler.
This is the Queens Privy Chamber sure?
I wonder 'tis so empty, when so great
Disorders are at hand; each faction met
In several crouds.
Thor.
'Tis strange! As after ev'ry raging storm,
Merchants and Mariners flock to th'Exchange,
To hear what mischiefs done at Sea; so now
(Methinks) the Politick, and those that would
Be thought such; Men old in offices, and those
Whose Infant hopes are newly crying out,
'Cause their Reversions have not pass'd the Seals;
Nay, and loyers of either sex, should all meet
Here, to scatter and to gather news—
Enter Old Courtiers, picking their Teeth, and striking of Crums from their Skirts.
Sal.
Behold the Formal Antiquaries!
It seems the Waiters Table's first broke loose.
Aler.
Now are they talking of Religion.
Sal.
No, we should hear 'em then; because,
Men at a loss are ever loud.
Thor.
Th'are talking of our sudden change i'th' Court,
Which he in the dapple Grey-Beard observes
T'important use; for I dare warrant ye,
He swears if this inversion hold, he will
Recover by th'assistance of an old
Record, at least—another Rabbit to
Their second course.
Sal.
Pox, he can never do't?
That Record has been sufficiently studi'd.
Aler.
Y'are in the right! Besides by a Decree
Of the same date, they have lost the dry'd Sweet-Meats
Due from his Highness Table, and 'tis thought
Can ne'er reprieve 'em by Law.
Enter Gartha and one Lady, who curtsie to Thorello, very low; then bow to the others, they to them.
Thor.
That's Gartha, Eumena's Woman,
And that the Lady Olari; 'tis such a short
Leg'd Hen, but her Chappeens (Sir) are so tall,
That th'other day, Ustalfo playing with her,
And thinking he had pinch'd her knee,
Wonder'd at her patience; when all the while
He held her by the Wood—
Aler.
Sure th'others very old.
Sal.
Who? Gartha! She is the best Annalist
Of all the Back-stair, and the Lobby acts,
In good Queen Joan's days, that is now extant.
Gar.
Is not that Thorello, a wit?
1 Lady.
Yes; but he makes love, as loud,
And tediously as Lawyers put the Case. What
Call you it the Academick way; as if he
Would dispute a wench out of her Maidenhead.
Gar.
Those Cavaliers (his friends) are wits too, Lord!
How maidenly they sit before the great Ladies
Whom they visit, as if their silence did
Imply, 'twas Beauty struck 'em dumb.
Enter Second Lady, who curtsies to all, but Saladine, they to her; then she sits on the Rushes, and takes out a Book to read.
Thor.
How coldly you salute your Mistress Saladine,
I know by that you'll marry her; for 'tis
A certain sign, those who embrace abroad,
Do ever keep a sober distance here.
Gar.
'Slight! How strangely she is dress'd to day?
1 Lady.
She's prouder then a Favorites Mistress at
A Mask: Last night, Gartha, she'd needs compare
Her Flanders Peaks to mine: What think'st thou?
Gar.
Alass poor soul; it is a little mad!
1 Lady.
Let us sit by her, and tell her
A secret or two of ours, that we
May hear all hers.
Gar.
No, she'll read to us in that Book,
Till we grow madder then her self.
1 Lady.
It is some Play.
Gar.
She's excellent at driving perfect
Characters in Plays: The Poets bow
To her, she is so critical.
Enter Third Lady in white.
3 Lady.
Signior Thorello!
Thor.
Your Creature, sweet Madam—
3 Lady.
Sir, you perfume me with your
Epethite, I fear you have not sent to Milan
Yet, for th'Carkanet of Pearl
Thor.
Your Ladiship will make me languish
Much by your distrust, since your commands
My dispatches have been written twice.
3 Lady.
Y'oblige me Sir.
She goes to salute and talk with Gartha.
Thor.
Sure she is fasting yet; her breath's
So strong, 'twould overcome a Bearward.
Sal.
But thou hast writ for the Pearl?
Thor.
The Devil I have.
3 Lady.
Signior, I here there are fair Rubies there.
Thor.
By my next Letter, Madam, I'll take
Care t'acquaint you with their size & value—
T'were good she'd bait on Lemmon Peels,
Or eat Pastillies, before she comes abroad.
3 Lady.
Gartha, these travel'd wits are good for nothing,
But to lie Liegers here for Ladies toys.
Why dost not thou employ 'em.
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For what Madam?
3 Lady.
For Essences to Rome, Tweeses to
Brussels, and for Fans to Paris. Make the
Poor Souls write, they'll take it kindly.
Gar.
Troth, and I'll put 'em to't; your
Ladiship must stand my friend, and tell 'em
That I'll read their verses to the Queen.
3 Lady.
Let me alone Wench: Is your
Lady in the Gallery?
Gar.
I wait here, in that opinion Madam.
Exit third Lady.
These great Ladies when th'ave tasted
Matrimony; grow so haughty; and think they
Can fool others, as easily as their Husbands.
Enter Radegond.
Radeg.
Ladies and Gentlemen, avoid the Room.
Exeunt all but Radegond.
Enter King.
King.
Have you by private order so contriv'd,
That both in visits, and her passage through
The Court, Eumena may perceive some general
Neglect, as if my favor to her were declin'd.
Radeg.
I have been busie (Sir) in your command.
King.
And are the throngs of Suitors too (that at
Her lodgings still address their hopes) forbid
Attendance there.
Radeg.
All secretly dismiss'd.
King.
How does she take it Radegond?
Radeg.
As one that entertains the change,
More with her wonder, then her grief.
King.
How vain is the revenge which
Lovers 'gainst their Mistresses invent? Since
Still themselves more suffer in't, then those
Whom they afflict.
Enter Phylenio and Queen.
Phyle.
Your Grace will much confirm your
Happiness, if you can meet his proffer'd
Kindness with such looks, as may declare your
Discontents, are not so lasting as your love.
King.
Why (Madam) did you come at my request?
Or, why did I desire your presence here?
I want the common vertue of the poor,
Such a reserv'd and fearful bashfulness,
As makes indebted men asham'd to see
Those that oblige them most.
Queen.
Are these the comforts that I sought
With such believing haste? Sir, 'tis not safe
To mock my misery, for so your errors must
Derive themselves; not from necessity,
But from your will; and when your hate
Prolongs its growth, until it ripen to a scorn,
I am not certain I shall have the pow'r to pardon it.
King.
Alass, mistake me not,
Though I mistake my self; for I of late
Have felt such strange disorders in my heart,
That I can hardly find those thoughts, which I
Would utter first.
Queen.
'Twas ill that I was sent for Sir;
Why did you cruelly command that we
Should meet again; I am the hurtful cause
Of that disease which governs in your mind;
And till the cause be quite remov'd, there is
No hope of cure—
King.
O stay! thou didst divest
Thee from thy holy Ornaments at my
Request, 'twas kindly done; not could I think
It fit to bury so much excellence
In unfrequented shades, stay here, and love me still.
Queen.
You make your serious invitation vain,
Where you are sure of such a glad consent.
King.
But wilt thou give me leave to love?
Queen.
Else Sir I were unjust unto my self.
King.
Thy understanding is too slow, I
Would have such a liberty as is not fit
For me to ask, nor thee to grant. Seal me
A licence for each choice, mine eyes shall make.
Queen.
There is no harm in love; your nicety
Hath wrong'd us both. Peculiar and distinct
Affections, are but small derived parts
Of what we call the universal love;
And universal love (undoubtedly)
Must be the best, since 'tis ascrib'd to Heaven.
Take Sir the freedom you desire.
King.
Shall I receive a bounty that must
Needs undo the giver, and yet nothing add
Unto the wealth of my content; for I am sure
That Charter never can usurp upon
Eumena's heart, begone: Some curse o'errules
My nature, shouldst thou stay, I must again
Invite thee to be wrong'd—Attend the Queen
Exeunt King one way, Phylenio, Radegond, Queen another.
Enter Oramont, Eumena.
Eume.
Sir, whether would you go
With a wild look? You shift from place to
Place, and move so fast, as if your steps
Were hastned by your fears—
Ora.
I find a happy emptiness
In all your lodgings now: What is become
Of that gay croud of Flatterers, who did
Attend your greatness here? Where be
Your Suitors too? Are all dispatch'd? Y'have
Been a courteous Favorite, and of your power, have made a noble use.
Eume.
Though you are come
To scorn this sudden change, I dare (without
Much sorrow) tell you Sir, the King hath eas'd
Me of that weighty power, as fitter for
His own judicious strength. And now this rich
Division of his glorious Pallace looks,
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Great Prince's Herse is laid aside, until
The Funeral day, there but a few kind servants
Watch in dutious Form, and weep for
Their dead Lord.
Ora.
Alass! What alteration's here! Good Heaven!
How comes it faithful Lovers thus fall out?
Eume.
Not for my own sake (Oramont) but yours,
I pitty that decay of courtesie
And soft compassion which you still discover.
Ora.
Why, you mistake me sure, I am a wise
Prophetick Courtier, and foresaw your fall
Ere I did practise my neglect? But yet
I may a little differ now from all
My subtle friends, bred up in Pallaces;
For like a dull unskilful follower
Of Kings, I shall bestow a present on you,
(A rich one too) when all your power is gone.
Draws out a sword bloody.
Eume.
A Sword, and newly stain'd with Blood!
Ora.
That your amazement may increase,
Eumena. You shall know this present is
A Legacy sent from a lover at
His last expence of breath; and by my Soul
He was a valiant Lover, though his cause
Made him unfortunate.
Eume.
What hath your jealous fury done?
Ora.
An act scarce worthy of my Fame,
I but dispatch'd a dying man:
For thy bewitching beauty with strange charms
Had conquer'd, and destroy'd him ere I came
To make a tryal of his strength; his name
Was Amadore.
Eume.
My fears had in 'em too much cause,
Sure he was slain in rescue of my honor.
Ora.
You best can tell his undertaking that
Provok'd him to't, and would you hear't from me.
Eume.
O, I have heard too much!
Thou bloody Harbenger of death, whose place
And hasty business, is to take up Graves
And Tombs, where thou dost coursly lodge
Men more renown'd and valiant then thy self.
Weeps.
Ora.
Weep'st thou for him?
Eume.
Young Amadore to all succeeding times shall live
Eterniz'd by some Tragick Pen, whose
Gentle numbers shall melt the most
Obdurate men, when they shall hear the
Miseries of love, whilst thou (the horror of
The scene) shalt ne'er be mention'd, but to
Change their pitty into rage.
Ora.
O heart! I've ever strove
To keep thee firm, loyal to vertue, and
Impartial to the World; yet now thou art
Subdu'd with sorrow that proceeds from sin.
For I'm constrain'd to grieve, when I behold
Her mourn, although I know she lov'd him but
Unlawfully, whom she laments; else why
Did she employ his anger to revenge,
My kind and careful jealousie.
Eume.
Thou hast proceeded to such dire extreams,
That 'tis too late to let thee know thy error,
And 'cause thou art my Brother, I am loth
To hinder thee of that excuse, which ignorance
May give, since th'ast no other shift to free
Thee from eternal punishment.
Ora.
Her falshood shews so comely in
Her sorrows dress, that if my judgment were
Not strongly arm'd with Reasons force, I
Should be fondly overcome.
Enter Radegond, Phylenio, and Guard.
Raged.
He was observ'd to enter here.
It is the Kings command, that you disarm,
And strait imprison him i'th' Fort.
The Guard seize on him.
Phyle.
What fate hath govern'd you to day,
My Lord? The people that beheld your fight
With Amadore, have with tumultuous rage
Pursu'd you to the Pallace-Gate, report
Him kill'd; his servants and his friends assembled with
The noise, demand strict justice of the King.
Ora.
Convey me strait to darkness, or to death!
What pleasure can I take i'th' use of light,
Since it no more can bring unto my view,
My friend alive, or my fair Sister true?
Exeunt Phylenio, Oramont, and Guard.
Eume.
Let me intreat you Sir, to bring him
Back, I've much to say, that may perswade him
To a fitting penitence: Why are you deaf
To my request? Or, how durst you presume
T'infringe the Royal priviledge of Court,
And force my Brother hence?
Radeg.
I'm sorry (Madam) you will shortly
Find more alteration in the King, then yet
You seem to know. What we have done, was in
Obedience to his will.
Exit.
Eume.
Then I shall feel too soon the sudden
Want of power; for I no more must see thee Oramont,
A word so fatal, and implies such sad
Unlucky truth, that I did fear to utter it.
If now thy spirit (noble Amadore)
'Mongst thy immortal new acquaintance has
The leasure to attend my plaints, forgive
Th'injustice my fond nature prompts me too,
Since I must needs bewail a Brothers loss,
Although that Brother was thy enemy.
Enter King.
King.
Since Amadore is slain, though by the
Rage of Oramont, which I lament so much,
That should remembrance entertain it long
('Twould be my ruine too;) yet such
A strange necessity my Stars impose
Upon me now, that his lamented death
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Unto my begger'd and half famish'd love;
For if there be a room for love within
Her Brest, he being gone, that did
Inhabit there: Why should not I succeed?
Eume.
Are you here Sir, does it become a
King to look upon affliction, and not strait
Redress't? The poor Physitian is so nice
I'th' honor of his science, that he ne'er
Will visit dying men: As if he were
Asham'd to look upon those inward wounds
He hath not skill to cure.
King.
Eumena, I did think to use a while a lovers art,
Returning harsh neglects for thine; but since
Thy fortune doth afflict thee more then I
Could do, I come to share, and lessen what
Before I practis'd to augment.
Eume.
I fear you come too late; but if
Y'are still a King, and still retain that lov'd
Divinity to which the vertuous bow; subdue
The wicked strait, by shewing now that power
Which they so sawcily suspect; call back from
His dark Grave, the valiant Amadore.
King.
You Angels take her sences to your care.
'Lass! What a strange request was this? As
Much discourteous too, as 'tis impossible.
She'ld have me fetch my rival from th'unknown
Far distant shades, to take a new
Possession of that love, which onely by
His absence I can hope t'enjoy.
Eume.
If this exceed your high prerogative,
I will descend to what your mercy can
Perform, redeem my Brother from his bonds:
For in a dearth of comforts, we are taught
To be contented with the least. Why, by
Severe command, did you surprise him here?
And gave no priviledge unto that place
Which you have often sanctifi'd with vows.
King.
Here I surprise him! No 'twas the
Just Law; but who is he so rash, that can
Desire to be a King? Since all the justice that
We do, is father'd on the makers of
Our Laws, and all their cruelty on us;
Make much you greedy Monarchs of that
Dignity, which with such toil in War
You labor to attain, I'm weary of't:
For like the Castle bearing Elephant,
We groan beneath that load, which we support
To guard and strengthen others, not our selves.
And what a useless glory 'tis, to be the cheif
Of Men, wanting the Charter to command
A tender Ladies love.
Eume.
Strange remedies you bring unto
The sick! You deaf'n those complaints you
Came to hear, with louder of your own.
Enter Queen.
Queen.
O mercy, mercy, Sir. Dare you derive
Your attributes from Heaven, yet mercy want.
By which, the wiser chiefly are content
You should assume th'immortal power!
King.
Madam, methinke you sue too earnestly.
Queen.
Eumena, speak to him; for
Oramont is now convey'd to suffer death, just
Now, 'tis the Letter of the riggid Law. He that
In Duel doth survive, must be destroy'd,
Ere th'other, whom he slew, can be interr'd—
Eume.
Alass! what weak encouragement
Have I to make requests on earth, when by my
Griefs of late, I've cause to doubt my prayers
Are not heard in Heaven, and ill it will become
Me Sir (whilst I remember Amadore)
To ask that mercy which (how ever) is most
Fit for you to grant.
King.
A fond unskilful bargain I shall make
If I exchange Justice (the Jewel that doth
Most adorn my crown) for her uncertain love
Which since she is so loth to promise, how
Unwilling she will be to pay.
Queen.
Why Sir are you so slow, when
Time and danger move so fast?
King.
The people (Madam) call for Justice,
They wisely lov't; that is, are well content
When it is us'd to punish those above
Them, not themselves, rude and ill manner'd
Are they to expect the valiant should be
Sacrific'd not onely by the Fo abroad, to keep
Them safe, but suffer publick death at home,
When they are pleas'd to see a Tragick show,
Yet since such valor is proscribed by Law,
He needs must die.
Queen.
If valor be
Proscrib'd, how wretched then will Ladies be
Since they can onely find the valiant true.
King.
Madam, I confess, that old Coward
Law, looks too severely on couragious youth;
And know in regal skill I should connive
At those disorders which the furious in
Their growing spirits oft complain; for else
The body of a state (effeminate
With lasting peace) when a strange War shall
Come, like Bodies natural (confirm'd by strict
And quiet temperance) will want the benefit
Which the use of small disorders bring, that
Make each violent disease less new, and dangerous.
Queen.
Sir there is hope, your reason will
Perswade your mercy now.
King.
I, but the people understand not this,
For that dull croud (whom Kings through cursed fate
Must please) will have all Laws observ'd, and
They must stand, not 'cause th'are wise, but
'Cause th'are old.
Enter Radegond.
Radeg.
The hour Sir is come, and Oramont
Must suffer death, unless you cancel strait
The written doom.
Eume.
How fatal Oramont
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Be free and bounteous of your pardon Sir;
She kneels.
For 'tis the last request I ere shall make.
King.
Look on her Heaven! Since you are
Molifi'd with such a pittious sight as this, I
Hope my justice now would not be stil'd
Divine, but rather humane tyranny. This Ring
Unto the Provost bear, it shall suffice
To make him know Eumena gives his prisoner life.
Exit Radegond.
Eume.
May all the hours you have bestow'd on him,
Be added unto that accompt which destiny
Hath numbred for your royal Self.
Queen.
And may they prove so happy too,
That you shall wish for immortality,
More for a change of being, then a hope
To better what y'enjoy on earth.
King.
Eumena, hold poor begging Priests,
Assume the power to bless, and with devout
Wishes, imaginary payment make
Of what they really receiv'd, but I
Will lay a nobler value on your gratitude,
And look you should return (not for your
Brothers life) but for my fervent passions that
So long have courted your slow love.
Eume.
I am undone!
For I have rais'd your expectation to
Demands, that I can never satisfie;
Sir, could my memory transgress so soon
To lose the thought of Amadore; yet my
Devoted heart so much adores
The vertues of your Queen, that I shall ne'er
By the temptations of your Crown, usurp
That love, which is so justly due to her.
King.
Be careful of my inward peace, and
Call those resolutions back, or else deny
Them for a little space.
Eume.
My souls unalter'd truth,
Confirms what I have said: But trust me you
May take this comfort Sir, I'll not be more
Unkind unto your matchless heart then to
Mine own.
Exit.
King.
So dying men receive vain comforts
From those visitants they love, when they
Perswade them to be patient at the loss of life,
With saying they are mortal too, and mean
T'endure the like calamity, as if
To die were from good fellowship, from free
Intent t'accompany departing friends,
When such last courtesie proceeds not from
Their will, but natures obstinate decree:
So if she mourns, 'tis not through willing
Kindness but constraint.
Queen.
Doubt not her kindness Sir, you saw her weep.
King.
'Twas by compulsion of my great
All conquering grief, not from her love, like
Eyes that from a secret simpathy,
Water and weep at others, when they
Behold them sore, but (Madam) why your tears.
Queen.
These are but leading drops; the
Showers are all behind, that I shall dedicate
Unto the memory of your sad fate.
King.
Can you lament at my distress whom
I have injur'd with worse neglects; or can
You wish my sorrows remedy, when what
I gain must be your loss.
Queen.
Sir, I shall claim no title to your
Brest, but what my patience and affection can
Deserve; he that did joyn our hands, did give
Me but a formal interest, since to
Eumena you dispos'd your heart, before
We knew those sacred rites.
King.
Are you not weary of your vertue yet?
Queen.
Nor of your love unto my rival Sir;
If it were low, and sinful love, I should
Not think it worth my envy or my fear.
If pure and noble (as my strictest faith
Believes) it is too great, a treasure to
Be made particular, and own'd by me
Alone, since what is good doth still increase
In merit of that name, by being most
Communative.
King.
This doctrine (Madam) will
Be new, and much unwelcome to your sex.
Queen.
True love, admits no jealousie; you
Shall perceive it strait, for I will hasten to
Eumena Sir, and wo in your behalf.
King.
Dare you employ your tongue against your self?
Queen.
Do not suspect me Sir, I shall
Not lose, by what she gains: For since your
Heart can have no peace, unless 'tis lodg'd
Within her Brest, I will procure its entrance
There with reason too, because I find
My quiet only doth consist in yours.
King.
Leave me! had I not goodness, yet
My pride would ne'er consent to be so far out
Gone, in kind effects of love. See me no more
Till thou canst hope to love me less, till I
Have cancel'd this large debt, or can (at least)
Find out a juster, and a nobler way
Then to increase, that debt which I should pay.
Exeunt severally.
| The Fair Favorite | |