University of Virginia Library

ACT: II.

SCEN. I.

Cass. Grutti. Ferrando. Ursini, leading in Calantha, Alphonso, Valenzo, Florinda, Violetta, Bentivogli, Piero, Sylvio, Fungoso.
(While the Act is playing.
Alph.
This musick's dull, strike higher, higher yet.

Bent.
Oh! oh! oh! I can hold no longer, furies, divels, oh! oh!

Fer.
What ailes our Physitian there?

Grut.

'Tis an odde humour my Lord: any kinde of musicke
is lesse pleasing to him, than the voice of Mandrakes.

Fer.

Cease there, your accents are distastfull.

Bent.

I am abus'd, grossely abus'd, but i'le be reveng'd—Sir
Your pardon.

Fer.

Rise and proceed.

Bent.

As I was telling you, you must in every thing humour
her; in each word, each action, the nature of 'her disease requires
it, which yeelds not unto cure, till it be wrought up
to'th height.

Alph.

Still such a sadnesse Ladies dwell on your browes? trust

mee, it misbecomes you: shall's tread a lusty measure? I'me
light, and active.

Viol.
But griefe is heavy.

Alph.
Thus wee'le shake it off, and thus.

(capers.
Cal.
Pray, why de'e use mee so? you bind my armes,
As if I meant to fight, an they were loose,
Indeed I wo'not, trust me, I'le kill no body.

Bent:
Pray unbind her.

Cal.
I never kill'd the poorest worme, or fly,
Though 'twere against my will, but that I wept for't,
And begg'd a pardon too, for sure 'twas murder.

Bent.
Marry was it.

Urs.
Poore Lady, she's distracted!

Val.

Death on my fury, this sight brands my best actions
with a staine too deepe for penitence to wash away.

Cal.
This exceeds cruelty, they will not let mee eate;
Looke I am pin'd almost to nothing.

Bent.
A meere skeleton.

Cal.
Had I but strength enough to struggle with heaven
By prayer, I'de expiate their sinnes, though they
Continu'd to be cruell.

Fung.
Good Lady weepe not, for if you continue
These teares, my eyes will drop.

Cal.
Yes, yes, they will drop out, oh happinesse!
Would mine would do so too; they smart extreamly;
Wer't not a curtesie, I thinke ere this
y'had pull'd 'em forth.

Fung.
Lady, I say weepe not.

Bent.
I say, ben't you a coxcombe.

Cal.
Take away the foole, we are much indispos'd
To laugh to day, good heaven, they flout my miseries:
'Tis not well done, you may be sicke your selves,
Before you die; want one to bid God comfort,
When I am dead.

Bent.
My Lord, a word—you are not priviledg'd
To do men wrong: you have done me one,
Pray take notice—

Alph.
Of what?

Cass.
S'life he won't challenge him.

Grut.
The old Lord's afraid on't.

Bent.
—How patient I am.

Alph.
'Tis worth the noting, vertue is rare in you.

Cal.
You Sir, do'e heare? they say you'le put
Poyson in my drinke; do, do, plot on, and be
Speaking to Ursini.
A politicke foole, I see into your thoughts,
My eye-sight's cleare, thanke heaven, and yet I've liv'd
A long long while.

Val.
Did you heare that?

Pier.
'Twas shrewd.

Bent.
Fourescore, and ten, you cannot be lesse Madame.

Cal.
Some ere this would have us'd spectacles, but I
Must suffer all.

Grut.
View all the monuments, and tombes in Naples,
And if you find griefe carv'd there in such varietie of postures
As these women stand in, sell mee for a statue.

Cass.
This spectacle hath made mee one.

Fer.
Good heavens, have you a curse beyond this?
Throw it on me; my guilt deserves it, and
Somewhat beyond your vengeance: afflict not Innocence,
It will be call'd your crime, not mine, that shee
Is miserable.

Cal.
Looke ye, now I thinke on't, I've a fine devise
Come in my head, what thinke you of a play?
Wee'le act a play, a tragedy, wilt not be well?
Wee'le have a King in't, and he, (do'e understand?) he shall be
Kill'd, me thinkes you'd act it handsomely.

Bent.

My Lord, you'd play the foole in't, an old doating
foole rarely.

Cass.

Now the curre bites.

Alph:

If you'd lend mee your gowne, and cap, I should do't
better; then, a noyse of Musitians would be excellent.

Bent:
Well, remember this.

Alph.
Faith so I shall, as often as I am dispos'd to laugh.

Cal.

No matter though, Ferrando, now I consider better on't.

you shall not, you'd not do it well; do't to'th life, I'le not
give a pin for't else: let me alone for one, I'de act that same
Kings daughter, I can command a teare or two: if need bee,
perhaps a sigh; if'twere to rave, or grow starke mad, I should
learne too: alas these playes are pretty moralls of our lives;
fine, harmelesse, innocent sports.

Val.

Her madnesse growes strongly upon her.

Syl.

But Madame, pray what part shall I act?

Cal.

Thou Sylvio?—th'art a pretty boy, but that thou
weep'st so much; I feare th'ast spoyl'd thy face; with a little
paint 'twould serve turn: thou shalt act some Lady in disguise.

aside.
Syl.

How truly do I doe it?

Cal.

One that has beene in love.

Syl.

I should do that scurvily.

Cal.

Why?

Syl.

Because I can love none but you, and would be loath
to dissemble, though but in jest.

Cal.

Come thou shal't not then; thou shalt be my page still.

Syl.

Indeed Madame I should dye if I were otherwise: But
pray, when will you be well? you have bin sicke a great while.

Cal.

Yes, and shall be so till I am dead; say nothing Sylvio,
I'le steale away from them, when they shall not know of't.

Syl.

Not alone, I'le dye with you, and be buried with you
if you will give mee leave.

Cal.

Ferrando, you will see it done?

Fer.

What Madame?

Cal.

See us both buried, laid by my Father, he was a good,
good King: build us a tombe as lasting as our names.

Bent.

A very rich one Madame; I'le ensure you they're about
it, with stately columnes, curious antickes, & glorious imagery.

Cal.
There, let us both be cut in spotlesse marble,
It never shall upbraid us, we were innocent as that;
But innocence is no guard, it could not keepe
The tyrant out: my father's, let his be cut
Just as he fell, make a sword pierce his heart,
And let it bleed too, yet don't hurt the Statua,
I would not have you wound it, when 'tis like
My Father, like a King, lest hee that do's it,
Learne thence to be a traitour, and in time
Wound you so too, Ferrando.

Fer.
Mercy good heavens!

Cal.
Pray why do'e weepe? wee shall all sleepe quietly
When we are dead, there is no noyse of chaines,
We shall not dreame of prisons, rackes or whips:
But every night shall see the Gods descend
On our soft slumbers, and kisse away our miseries:
Ladies, you'le see mee shrowded decently,
When I am dead, downe in the meade yon, where
Grimme Pluto stole his Proserpine, are still
The flowers she scatter'd: goe, bring 'em hither,
And strew me ore with 'em; she was a virgin chast,
And I have heard that flowers of their gathering,
will never dye; quickly make hast, 'tis said
we're very noysome after death, I would not
Offend then, cause I can't aske forgivenesse:
Before I die I'le breake my heart, and give
A piece to every one to weare in's bosome,
And you shall have it whole, Ferrando: pray
Use it as you would her you lov'd, while I
To quit these miseries will go pray, and die.

Bent.
Now let me alone with her.

Exeunt Ursini, Ferrando, leading out Calantha Bentivogli, Sylvio. manent cæteri.

SCEN. II.

Alp.

Die? and let her, what should wee do with her here
an shee be mad? I hope Ladies you have more wit than to
die o'th sullens.

Val.
Griefe dares not be so rude, did you but checke it.

Flor:
Las Sir, our miseries have taught it insolence,

Pier.
Rather your owne indulgence, Madame.

Val.
Pleasure's the same in Naples as in Sicily.

Viol:
So are our losses too.

Val.
The eyes sad flux is tributary due
Unto your dead Lords memories, I confesse it,
It carries vertue in't, but how? whilst it is moderate

Alp.
Pish, let the dead care for themselves:
Did you but see how ugly sorrow lookes.—

Pier.
And then how fruitlesse.

Flor.
Yes, where 'tis false, but wee
Have griefe as reall as our misery.

Exeunt omnes præter Alphon: & Fungoso.
Alp.

Fun, thy judgement Fun, what think'st thou of these
Ladies?

Fun.

In my judgement, (since your Lordship is pleas'd to
make use of my judgement,) which indeed (my good Lord)
is very small.

Alph.

I perceive thou hast one good qualitie, thou wilt
speake truth.

Fun.

Truth (my Lord) is precious; but I say in that little
judgement I have: (judgement, (since your Lordship was
pleas'd to terme it so) but that's all one,) in my minde they'r
mightily taken;—

Alph.

With what?

Fun.

A passion (my good Lord,) which the learned call
griefe.

Alph.

Thy judgement against any mans in Naples.

Fung:

My Lord, I praise not my selfe, yet I can prove by
this that they are in love.

Alp:

As how?

Fung.

Griefe alwayes followes love; if griefe follow love,
love go's before, ergo, they're in love.

Alph:

So, suppose now—

Fun:

(My good Lord) I doe suppose.

Alph.

What?

Fung:

Even what your Lordship pleases.

Alph.

Suppose then, any of 'em should be in love with mee,
would you?—

Fun.

Yes my Lord.

Alph.

What?

Fun.

Any thing.—

Alp:

Bring her to my chamber.

Fun:

—But pimpe, it will contaminate.—

Alp.

A fooles head, will it not? I say you shall bring her.

Fun:

Nay then I will not bring her; slid, shall bring her?
shall bring her?

Alp.
Nay but Fun.—Pox on him, he'le discover mee.

Exit Fun. Alph. running after him.

SCEN. III.

Ferrando. Ursini.
Fer:
Bid me forsake heaven, my vertue, honour,
And all that's good—

(weepes.)
Urs.
Fie, fie.

Fer.
You doe not see mee weepe,
Distill mine eyes into a dew,
I will not shed one teare, not vent a sigh,
No not in private.

Urs.
So, this becomes you—

Fer:
I have shooke off all
Those weights that clogg'd my bosome—Wee can smile,
Shewes it not handsome?

Urs.
Such a smile nere blest
The cheekes of Peace.

Fer:
How art thou lost Ursini!
Discredited to truth by this vile flattery!
Thou shouldst have said, heaven smil'd, when set with clouds
Blacke as nights swarthy mantle, when the aire
Breakes out in hideous crackes, that cleave the Temple,
And strike dead the devout Priest at the Altar:
For this an easie faith would have beleev'd,
As having lesse of contradiction in't:
My soule is rapt with furies, here they gnaw,
Like knotted Adders wrapt about my heart.
Oh! my sides swell as they would breake, they want
A hoope, lend mee your arme,—

Urs:
Circled in these
Embraces, you are safe: collect your selfe
(Deare Prince;) and let not passion triumph in
The conquest of your reason; thinke of your honour,
Your name, and spreading glories; how they dye.

Fer.
I'me blacke and ugly; all
A whole staine already: Oh Calantha,
Thou goest to heaven, to tell Ferrando kill'd thee;
And those blest troopes of Saints will wreake thy murder;
There's not one but suffers in't.

Urs.
—The King!
Helpe here—Oh! Bentivoglio, come,
Enter Bent.
Come practice here, and raise your selfe a trophey
In his recovery.

Bent.
Whence this sudden fit?—My Lord Ferrando:

Fer.
Oh Calantha.

Bent.
She lives,
Calantha lives.

Fer:
What breath is that, that mockes us
With a false sound of our Calantha's life?
She lives; yet let old time adde to his age
But one short paire of minutes, shee shall be
No more:

Bent.
No more distracted: next houre shall render
Calantha to your bosome faire, and well;
As rich in all the ornaments of minde,
As when she first blest Naples with her presence.

Fer.
Truth's but a name: 'tis false, by heaven 'tis false;
Did not I leave her sunke upon her bed,
Into a soft, but everlasting sleepe?

Bent.
So you suppos'd; and I have caus'd her women
To wrap her in her shrowd, then sit downe by her,
To weepe, and pray, as if 'twere for the dead.

Fer.
As if?—abuse mee not, thy art
Shall be no priviledge; she's gone, she's gone.

Urs.
Ben't so passionate; but heare him.

Fer.
Ursini, I have done.

Bent.
After a strict enquiry into the nature
Of her disease, I finde it by each symptome,
A melancholy deepe, not dangerous:
The parents which produc't it, griefe and abstinence
From meate, and sleepe; which as it hath encrea'st,
Has brought her now to such an extreame dotage,
That she do's verily suppose her selfe,
While living dead: In which false supposition
I've caus'd her women to continue her,
By shrowding her to her owne desire,
Strewing her o're with flowers, then weeping o're her

Fer:
What helpe from this?

Beut:
Much Sir, this will worke her
Into a strong opinion, that shee's dead
Indeed, to confirme which I have prepar'd
Some two or three, trick't up in the same fashion
With shrowdes, and chaplets, who shall sit downe by her,
Walke, talke, eate, drinke, sleepe, in all which actions
Calantha will streight imitate them: Now I have prepar'd
A potion which they shall give her,
To make her sleepe, the onely remedy
Of her disease; this I lately practis'd in the French Court,
Yet lost no credit by the experiment.

Urs.

You may beleeve him Sir, he's one of the skilfullest
Physitians our age has boasted of, Padua is proud of such an
ornament.

Fer:
Thus my Virginio.
My best, my dear'st Virginio: thou dost breath
A musicke to my soule, cures my distemper:
Thou art an honest man, we'le found a Colledge,
With a large pension to maintaine the Students
In thy rare science; thou shalt governe there,
And when thou dyest, we'le build a monument
Unto thy name, taller than Ægypts Pyramides.

Bent:
These are your Court promises,
I'le onely studie some revenge, for yon old Lord,
(aside.
Then I'le returne to'th Universitie, & dream on 'em.

Fer:
For thee Ursini, we will onely live
Exit Bent.
To do thee honour, that shall be our glory;
The world shall know thee great, and envie thee
Thy share, both in our kingdome, and our soule.

Urs.
Your goodnesse, my Lord, is as unlimited
As heavens.

Fer.
You're sad Ursini: has our Niece
Given you no cause of joy, by her soft answer?

Urs.
None.—

Fer.

The obstacle? tell mee; ift' be any in Court she affects,
by my honour I'le remove him.

Urs.

None but this, that she's too much wedded to Heaven,
and her devotions.

Fer.
If that be all, shee's thine.

Urs.
A blisse, I would for ever live t'enjoy.—
Enter Zisco. whispers Ursini.
With mee?—

Fer.
What would that Moore?

Urs.
He has letters here from his holinesse,
In which I'me certifi'd, that he lately turn'd Christian,
And has well deserv'd i'th warres,
Against the Turke;—The King admits you to
His hand.

Zis.
I am in heaven too soone.

Fer.
We'le view his holinesse commendations,
Then heare this Moore, discourse the fight at large;
My griefes begin to vanish; they'r much lighter
Than of late they were, I know not why,
But 'tis a good presage.

Urs.
Be neere us.

Exeunt, Fer. Ursini.
Zis.

Exit.

SCEN. IV.

Calantha discovered lying upon a banke of flowers, with a chaplet upon her head. enter severall wayes fixe furies, in anticke postures: at the sound of the Musicke they dance, which ended, enter Mercury conducting in a Chorus of Ghosts: the Furies runne out severall wayes: Mercury goes to Calantha touches her with his rod, whereupon she rises, and he speakes.
Merc:
Happy soules that hither come
To enjoy Elizium;
Rob'd of bodies though you be,
Y' are richer by such poverty;
For with them y'have put off paine,
Making of your losse, your gaine:
Now your soules may meete and kisse,
Bathing in eternall blisse;
Nor can you surfeit, each delight
Whets, and quiets appetite;
Yet the joyes you feed upon
Ne're encrease, nor ere are done;
Freely you may taste, and spend 'em,
Yet nor you, nor time can end 'em:
Where without a fading ray.
Yee enjoy eternall day,
Trace these groves, whose every path
Myriads of true lovers hath;
Where disporting, you may prove
A new, but happier, purer love:
Such, whose flames, though th'ever shine
Yet consume not, but refine.
Exit Mer:

Having thus finish't, the Ghosts joyn with Calantha in some solemne measures; which ended, a banquet is serv'd in, they sit downe, and invite Calantha, to the same, who willingly accompanies them, and as shee prepares to drinke, they put an Opiate cup in her hand; shee drinkes, and suddenly fals asleepe; they betweene them carry her out. &c.

SCEN. V.

Valenzo, Piero, Charintha.
Val.
I am too tame Piero, hold mee not,
Lest in deferring of a punishment,
I make the sinne mine owne; had all malice
Dwel't in one tongue, all slander too beene hous'd
Under the same roofe with it, and both busie
To plot the ruine of my owne faire name;
I could have stood unmov'd: but my Charintha!
Heavens! ye ought t'inspire me with revenge,
Such as you'd call a Synode to contrive,
That I may meete this hell-borne ravisher
Of my Charintha's spotlesse fame, with vengeance
As mighty as his crime.

Pier.
Her vertue is
It selfe an antidote against all such poysons;
His breath no more can staine that innocent whitenesse,
Which ever dwell't upon her soule, than hee,
That in a fond maliciousnesse would throw
Dirt at the Sunne, could sulley the least ray;
Her memory, when hee, and's lying marble
Consume to dust, and rottennesse, shall dwell
On earth like a perfume, after the sacrifice,
Pleasing to God, and men.

Char:
If I have us'd
Any immodest braveries, appear'd
In wanton gaudinesse, a hot temptation
To 'th youthfull flowings of the blood;
If I have entertain'd one looser thought
But such as Chastitie's cold votaries,
When they breath out a soule into her bosome,
Might safely nourish; if I've misemploy'd
One houre, in which with strict endeavour, I
Might have gain'd somewhat to my stocke of vertue,
(The onely dower I'de meete your love withall,)
May I be guilty of that sinne, my honour,
My virgin honour's blasted with, and die
A loath'd Apostate.

Val.
Now you grieve, I suffer double;
Forgive mee Lady, I have wrong'd you, and
Onely I.

Char.
Mocke not my teares, they are holy.

Val.
I, that to purchase fame, and idle breath,
Could venter forth abroad into the world,
And leave thee here a prey to ravenous wolves;
Expose the tender yeares of a weake virgin
To labour 'gainst the furious tyde of lust
That has assaulted thee; that my low birth
Should stand in need of such additions,
To raise mee to a height, might equall yours:
That vertue and not blood ennobled us,
This then had never hap'ned.

Char.
Greatnesse transmitted
Has lesser of Divinity; your honours
Are vertues purchase, and your owne deservings.
Valenzo thou return'st in glorious triumph,
Rich, from the conquest of a noble foe,
And yet not laden with the gaudy spoyle
So much, as with the valour of the enemy:
As if th'ad'st envy'd them their vertue onely,
And sought'st to rob 'em of it; all for mee:—

Val:
I've wav'd a plume, dight mee i'th warlike garbe,
Manag'd a sword, or shooke a dreaded speare,
Look't terrible, bin pittilesse to those
That begg'd a life, revell'd in citties sack't,
And rifled tents: too poore and triviall matters
To point at such rich ends as thee, (my love.)
Thy blood runnes high, there's not one purple streame
Cas'd in these azure veines, but is deriv'd
From'th spring of Princely ancestry, and th'art
The wealthy storehouse of their fortunes too.

Char.
'Las! what are these, but what the owner makes them?
Of themselves nothing, only as we use them,
Are good or bad, a blessing or a curse:

Val.
But then their vertues, by a thriftie providence,
Are all summ'd up in thy blest selfe, and make thee
A happinesse which if injoy'd must bee
Bestow'd by gift, because above all purchase.

Char:
No (my Valenzo,) vertue's ravish't hence,
Charintha's strumpetted, her name is rank't
I'th vulgar breath, 'mongst common prostitutes;
Pardon, (my love) shall't never wed thy shame,
Thy jealousie.

Val.
Charintha, thou art cruell, and hast learn'd
An art to wound to'th death, yet keepe alive
Whom thou hast kill'd, O be but speedy in
Thy execution, and when I come below:
And walke those fields, that haplesse lovers trace,
I will report thee milde, soft as the Turtle in her downe

Char.
What meanes Valenzo?

Val.
Perhaps report has injur'd mee, and noys'd
That I was jealous of Charintha's love;
And you contriv'd this plot to make mee hate you;
Or, if you should repent, (as well you may.)
Your favours so ill plac't, upon a subject
So poore and worthlesse; take 'em backe againe,
Live happy in a better choyce, Charintha.
(Pardon my love, shall't never wed thy shame.)

Char.
Farre, farre be such a thought!

Pier.
Your both abus'd,
Grossely abus'd: Ursini's politicke plots
May meete an eye, that can discerne of objects
Farre subtler than they are; come, come,
'Way with this passion, Love has something else
To employ you in:

Val.
Th'ast rob'd mee of a soule:—

(Kisse.
Char:
Take in this kisse mine in exchange againe.

Enter Fung: Serv.
Ser.
That's my Lady Sir,

Fun.
There,—take it I say;

Ser.
My office will scarce deserve it.
Exit Serv.

Pier.

Fungoso, as I wish't; he is Ursini's agent, this will confirm
my relation; let's step aside.

(Val Pier step behinde the Arras.)
Fun.

Ha! What are these? Præsto, be gone; they are vanish't:
men of office these,—and must be rewarded.—
Madame.—

Char.

Come, to your businesse.

Fung.

S'life the Ladie's rampant: (aside.)
soft and faire,
two words to a bargaine, now will I seeme to neglect her,
and she'le streight court mee.

Char.

Sure the man's man.

Fung.

Not with love, sweete Lady; I can hold discourse
with your Ladiship, under the losse of my little wits.

Char.

A blest security; but your errand, your errand, Sir.

Fung.

What do'e take mee for? a foote-post.

Char.

Some such thing.

Fung:

Goe, y'are a—

Char:

What?

Fung:

A merrily dispos'd Lady: but faith, what doe you
thinke sweete, I have a grant of his Lordships reversion.

Char.

Of cast suits.

Fung.

La you now, you would make me angry; pretty piece
of ingenuity; you understand mee, was his Lordship wholsome?

Char:
Stop his mouth, he breathes infection.

Val:
Traytour.

Enter Val: Pier: & draw.
Pier:
Devill.

(kils him.
Fun:
Oh! oh! I'me dead, I'me dead, I'me dead.

(dies.
Val.
Dares he abuse me to my face?—Piero
Thou hast prevented me; t'shall nere be said,
That thou wer't forwarder to vindicate
Charintha's fame than I, then her Valenzo.
Nor shall the cause, but the revenge be mine;
I'le shew my rage can flow as well as thine.

Exeunt. (Val. with his sword drawne.

SCEN: VI.

Ursini. Sylvio.
Urs.
Th'ast told a pretty story;—weepe no more,
I see the Cupids angry in thine eyes,
That with thy teares, th'ast quench't their burning arrowes;
Spare 'em untill th'art old, and spend 'em then
On thy whole stocke of sinnes: thou play'st the tyrant;
And rob'st thy selfe of all that beauteous treasure,
Nature instructed thee withall.

Syl:
Ah mee!
Would I had never had it, that alone
Has onely caus'd my griefe:

Urs:
Thou art passionate.

Syl.
The virgins lov'd my innocence, and it
When I was yet a child.

Urs.
So thou told'st mee boy:
But after thou arriv'd'st in Sicily,
How far'd it with thee?

Syl:
Judge Sir, by these teares.

Urs:
Did thy friend leave thee?

Syl.

Yes, and the world too; I know hee would not have
beene so unkind else.

Urs.
Then went'st thou to the Princesse.

Syl.
Begg'd reliefe from her.

Urs.
Why did'st not returne?

Syl:
'Twas told mee there, my Parents streightway dyed.

Urs:
Thou shalt have new ones, royall ones my boy;
A Princely payre, that pride them in their youth,
And innocent sweetnesse; whose Majesties shall shed
As vigorous rayes on thee, as on the issue,
Th'ensuing nuptiall promises to spring
From their owne loynes.

Syl:
Those are favours Sir,
That become them to give, not me to take.

Urs:
Thou hast deserv'd them boy, Calantha speakes thee
A miracle of love and piety;
Is passionate in thy praise, all to win
Affection from the Prince to thee, dry up
Those teares; which till this time did never flow
Offensive unto any:
This day is consecrate to mirth and Hymen,
'Tis sinne to weare a frowne, or folded brow;
For every smile, thou lend'st them now, they'l pay
A thousand backe againe:
Exit. Ursini.

Syl.
A large requitall!—
A smile from my Ferrando? oh 'twas heaven,
Felicia, whilst thou wish'st it! now thou hast
Obtain'd it, 'tis a hell; the antidote
Is now become my poyson: Tyrant love
That sport'st thee at the paines, thy Martyrs feele
And mak'st thy salve apply'd, wound when t'should heale.

Exit.