University of Virginia Library

Actus Quinti

Scena 1a.

Phocillus. Heads-man.
Phocillus in Mourning. a Coffin Lyeing by Him.
Pho.
An hower, and then a graue! Art you sure ffellow
Thou sawest the People «ar»ound about the Scaffold?

Hea.
Yes my Lord.

Pho.
I had Command indeed to fitt my S«elfe»
Against this Morning: But it is too Early,
My stomach can stay Longer. Who art thou?

Head.
One of the Kings Head Officers Sr.

Pho.
O the Headsman.
Why wilt thou follow such a Bloody Trade?

Head.
Alas, my Lord Wee must haue Cloathes

Pho.
I prithee take my Head of at a Blow,
And there's fiue Peeces for thee.

Head.
My Lord Marquesse gaue twenty. indeed I
neuer take Lesse then tenne

Pho.
Ha, ha, There's more, soe thoul't doe it well.

Head.
An ere a Man in Corsica mend it I'l be hang'd.

Pho.
A pretty Custom! Wee must by our Deathes;
Noe man will worke without his hire. The Sexton'l
Feeles ye Axe.
Not Digg unlesse wee ffee him. Let mee see thy Axe.
Phocillus what art thou when such a Rascall
Can Cutt thee and thy Noble Thoughts asunder?
And 'tis not farre off. Then this Wooden Coffin
Will Serue thee and be roome Enough: Noe Quarrelling
When as a sawcy Worme Twewes thee by th'Nose;
Wee all are quiet here. O that wee should
Act Such Braue things to haue soe poore an Exit
Yet hither Wee must Come. I prethee fellow
Pull of the Lidde. Ile try how I can Endure
To Ly in such a Thing.

Head.
I warrant you my Lord Ile teach you that. I
can make men Endure Cold or Any thing.

Pho.
Sr, Leaue your Prate; This little Hower of mine's
Worth all thy Life. Wee yt are noble Borne
Must in the Case make Sport for Rogues, & Hangmen.
But See you use mee like a noble-man—.
I finde noe Horrour Here, but all at Peace;
Yet I am sadd. Wee all can scorne this Death
«Until hee Comes—» Lay on the Lidd—Tis Well.
Phoc. Lyes downe in the Coffin. Hee «covers him»
After a While Phocillus putts by the Lidd, & goes in—.
«Downe the» sadd Mold will Come tumbling on mee;
And ghastly «Scalpes» rattle About my Eares;
Who would be Proud then of a Clodd of Earth?
What's Ualour? Or to talke bigg to the Wind?
Since When wee Dy, wee fall but into Dust,
And in An Age forgotten.

Scena 2a.

Antiope. Phocillus. Captaine.
Ant.
Dead already!

Rises from ye Coffin
Phoc.
Madam faith this is kindly done of you,
To giue a Uisit to a Dead Man thus.

Ant.
I bring thy Safety with mee. O Phocillus
How many Hellesponts of Teares hast thou
Swumm ore into my Soule? I felt thee struggle
(Iust as I would haue Slept) and Cry for helpe;
And Loue hath giuen it mee. I bring thee Life.

Pho.
Euen on the Block wee Loue to feed ourselues
With fflat'ring Hope. But all its Dores to Mee
Are Shutt up by the Rigour of yor Brother;
I am at Peace, and Lead my Passions Bound,
You shall not See mee Rage.

Ant.
I dally not.
Yon Powers remember Louers! Thou hast heard
My Sisters Unexampl'd Story told.
Tis a strange Maze. But fflorimond this Morning
To take off from her Wrongs does Marrie her;
The holy Priest is Ready, and the King
With all Solemnityes does honour 'em.
Hence Spring our Hopes. Thou knowest, on ffestiualls
It is the Use to Pardon Malefactors;
The Coulor's good! And then Remember, Loue,
My Brother gaue his Signet from his hand
When hee Deny'd my Suite. With it I'ue Seal'd
A Warrant forg'd for thy Deliuery;
Thou mayst in a Disguise gett into Italy,
And I this night will follow.

Pho.
O my Soule!

Kisseth him.
Ant.
Be Wise and Let mee stopp thy Mouth. the Iailor
Does make noe Scruple on't.

Phoc.
Where shall I fly?

Ant.
To Italy, I say.

Whisper
Pho.
—Captaine, th'art ffaithfull—Hearke thee.

Capt.
I warrant your Lodp p.

Pho.
The Tyme ffauours us.

Cap.
You shall See I'le Worke.

Ant.
I must Attend the Nuptialls. Sweet Phocillus
Linger not here about thy Ruine still.

Pho.
I goe; But Leaue my Heart
For you to bring along.—The King's a shadow—

Scena 3a.

Hymen's Priest. Lycomedon
Florimond. Achæa. Antiope. 2 Lord«s»
Cleander. Dorimant. Beotto.
Soft Musique. Hymen's Image Discouerd upon an Altar. The Priest goes up. Then follow Florimond & Achæa hand in hand; Garlands upon theyr Heads. The King & Lords by 2 & 2 following.
Priest.
You Poluted Payre Drawne neare
And fill your Hearts with holy ffeare,
Looke not up with Eyes Obscene
Till Matrimony make you Cleane;
And Sonne I doe Aduise you this:
That Teares purge your foule Amisse.
Soe to the Altar Come, and Lay
Your sacred Uowes up. Humbly Pray
The Schreich-Owle and the Rauen fell
Be not heard this Day to tell
Wicked Omens to the Night,
Nor the Pallid Ghosts affright.
The Priest prsents 'em.
Holy Hymen wilt thou Deigne
To Renew thy Shrine againe
In this Woman, and Perfume
Them both with Graces to Consume
The Seeds of Stranger Lusts? O take
Them into Wedlock for my Sake.
Shall I ty their trembling hands
In thy Chast, and Sacred Bands?
The Image Sweats Blood.
Hence Profane!
The God is angry. Yor Prodigious Blood
Sweates through his holy Image.

Flor.
Monstrous!
What does this Sweat portend?

Ach.
This, this, false Florimond,
Wt h a Knife shee Stabbs him and her Selfe.
And this unto Achæa.

Lyc.
Hold her hand

Flor. reeles against the Altar.
Flor.
It is too Late. I thanke thee.

Ach.
Pardon Hymen!
I now haue payd my Uow. I onely Brought him
To Sacrifice him at thy Altar here
Whome hee hath soe Profan'd. These, fflorimond,
These are the Nuptiall Rights I promis'd thee.

Clea.
Horrible!

Lyc.
How shee insults?

Ach.
I haue Reason: I am white now,
Pouring my Defiled Blood before the Shrine,

Flor.
How sower is sinne when it is Swallow'd Downe?
O How it gripes mee! yet my Wronged Loue
Let us be ffriends in Death.

Ach.
Neuer neuer.
Were there a thousand Worlds for us to passe through,
My Uengeance should pursue thee thorough all.

Ant.
O my Deare Sister!

Ach.
Weepe not at my Wedding.

Ant.
A ffatall one indeed

Scena 4a.

Natolion. Lycomedon. Achæa Florimond. &c.
Nat.
Hold impious Preist hold. Doe not Lewdly thrust
Marriage on Incest. Sr you must forgiue mee,
My ffeares and Horrours hurried mee from yor Prison
To stop this Wretched Union; They haue sinn'd
Aboue forgiuenesse already. Ha! What's here?

Flor.
O ffather you are Come to find a Sonne
Doubly Massacred, in his Soule and Body.

Nat.
Who haz done this?

Ly.
Aske her.

Ach.
Tis I, Natolion;
Ist not a braue Reuenge on him that Butcher'd
My Sleeping Honour? But I shall not Ioy Long.

Nat.
It was a noble Stroke, for thou hast kill'd
Halfe an incestuous Brother.

Lyc.
How? her halfe Brother?
In what a Clew of Wonders are Wee wound?

Flor.
And neuer tell mee untill now? I hope
I'ue don't.

Florem: snatches the Sacrificing Sword off the Altar, and Kills his ffather.
Pre:
Profane let goe the hallow'd Weapon.

Nat.
Oh oh. Here is a Sonne now!

Flor.
I will heare noe Longer—

Dyes.
Nat.
Yet thou Achæa liuest to Curse thy ffather.
Heare mee my Lords: The Paynes yt I haue taken
To keepe these two from Incest fate haz eaten.
You know, Achæa, that your Mother Charg'd you
Neuer to Marrie him there, and Desyr'd mee
To See her Will perform'd; And there was Reason,
For in Adulterate Sheets I gott thee Of her.

Lycom: runns him in.
Lyc.
How Villaine?

Nat.
I cannot Dy yet. When the king grew old
I was your Mother's Mate; And Shee would tell mee
Achæa was my Daughter.

Kills him.
Lyco?
Out Dog; Dog,

Dyes
Ach
There my Heart Broke—oh oh—

Dyes
Nat.
Oh, oh.

Ly.
Why what a Litter of Bastards are wee All?
O that I could but follow with my Sword!
But Damned Fate, the ffriend of Bawds & Uillaines,
Denyes mee it. My Lords, who beares a Weapon
And does not kill me?

Clean.
Hee does not say you are his Sonne, my Lord.

Ly.
But I'me my Mothers; And shee was a—What?
You all know my Lords what. I want Breath—
Shee was a—What? What my Lords?

Beot.
A Whore; I alwayes sayd soe.

Lyc.
—I dare not kill thee, for yo u sayst but Truth.
The King of Corsica! Would ye Gods had rather
Bestow'd Sixe ffeet of quiet Earth upon mee,
Or hid mee in the Desart with my Right,
Ere brought mee to this shore, or that they Could
Aswell anexe my miseries to my Crowne
I then might hope that some Ambitious Wretch
Might be entreated to become a King.
Who'l haue my Crowne here? Noe body?

Beot.
I will. I knew the Gods would giue it mee
One Tyme or other. Sr I haue beene wrongfully
Depos'd a Long tyme.

Lyc.
Tis true thou hast ye Clayme, as I remember,
My Lords all Doe him Homage. You may see
The Gods ffight for him. Hee will proue, noe questio«*»
A Uery Courteous Prince. I pray you kneele.
Priest prithee kneel too—Wee'l make bold wt h Hymen.
King kneeles and they all doe Hee setts the Crowne on Beottos head.
I'l part with all my Cares. And honest ffriend,
A Sword hangs ore thee now; And at thy feet
A thousand Treasons waite. Looke thou grow Wanne
And Loose thy Pleasures. Looke that thy Dreames be
As troublesom as thy Office. Looke that thou
Suffer Suspition for to [D] gnaw thy Soule;
Looke that thou tremble wheresoe're thou goest;
And still meet Troubles; These the glorious Liues are
Of Pompous Majesty.

Dor.
Alas poore Prince!

Flor. flings the Crowne from Beotto his head.
Lyc.
O what a Beast is Passion! Hence you ffoole.
Crownes are not molded for such Beetle Heads—
My Lords why will you Let mee Loose my Selfe?
Take him away and Thrust him from my Sight

Dor.
Away away Sirrah

Ly.
I am too blame; But such a ffeauer boyles
My Poysond heart, that I Loose ye Remembrance
of What I am. O what a Load of Sorrowes
A Man Can beare before they Kill him!

Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Hast my Lords, hast. Phocillus haz broke Prison,
And with a Crew of Runnagates has wonne
The Inner Court; giueing out hee will Repriue
The Land from Tyranny and Usurpation.

Ant.
Ah mee unhappy!

Cle.
It is noe Tyme to talke now. Call ye Guard.
Your Majesty Retyre into your Chamber,
While Wee repell these Rebells.

Lyc.
Doe what you will.
O Sister what a Mother had Wee two
Let us goe search some melancholy Den
For I am Teares all ouer. Giue mee thy Hand;
O that these Aspes, that Lurke here, would soe Bite
To Lay mee Sleeping in eternall Night!

Scena 5a.

Drums. A Cry within [downe «*»t h ye Rascalls, «*»owne with ye Rebells] Enter Pho. Cap Drawne.
Phocillus. Captaine.
Pho.
Retyr'd from such Aduantage! Hell! this 'tis
To trust to Rascalls.

Cap.
Cramps oretake theyr hammes.
I thought th'had follow'd us upon the Entrance;
But as I Look't behind mee, not a fflock
Of Sheepe, before the Woolfe, made greater hast
Then they, from the King's Guard. What shall wee Doe?
I doubt wee were Discouerd as wee Crept
Into the Window

Pho.
Tis the Gallery;
Wee Cannot find a nobler Place to Dy in
And if I can sett Eye upon this mock-King
Wee will not Loose our Deathes. Stick but you Close,
While like two Lyons, in the Libean Desart
Follow'd by Hunters, Wee will Sell our Skins soe
That Death himselfe shall tremble at the Price.
O Sr Here's Iustice for you!

Lycom enters & Phoc:
Lycom.
Treason Treason;

Pho.
I shall Reach you Sure

Lyc.
Helpe.

Scena 6a:

runnes at him, Lyc. flees. Phocillus pursues him in and out. Antiope at the Hanging entring in hast to see what is the matter runnes upon Phoc: Sword who is in Pursuite of ye King.
Antiope. Phocillus.
Ant.
O what hast thou Done?

Pho.
Mischeife enough, I doubt.
How Camest thou hither?

Ant.
O I am Heuy. Let mee Leaue a Kisse
Behind mee; Thou hast done mee a great Kindnesse.

Pho.
Doe not teach th'Ayre these sadd sounds. Thou Canst n[OMITTED]
Leaue the World soe soone. Looke up a Little.

An.
Thou art much too Blame; But I forgiue thee;
Welcome Sweet Sleepe. Adue.

Pho.
O let my Sighes
Breake day from thy fayre Eyes. Antiope!
One, one Word more; although it be a Curse

Ant.
Oh!

Pho.
Fate, Commets, Hell,
Night, and what's horrid, tremble at my Deed,
Till you shake Nature, and ffright up the Sea
Into the Eyes of Heauen to Lend em Teares.
O my Dead Loue, thou didst Deserue much Better
But who Can Blott Decrees out?—There Agen?
Shot like a Ruine; doest thou Come to moue
Upon this Denne of Horrours.

Scena 7a.

Lycomedon. Captain Phocillus Antiope.
Lycomedon Wounded by the Captaine. Phocillus rises, and offers to run at him.
Ly.
Helpe, helpe, Treason

Cap.
Nay my Lord, Spare yor Labour; Hee's all End«ed»

Ly.
None near to «su***ur» a Prince? Phocillus hold.
If thou beest noble, Lend the«**»a«*»d a Sword
I cannot stand Long, for I feele my Greife
Mixe with my Blood soe sweetly; and runn out,
That Deathe's a Pleasure to mee

Pho.
I scorne Aduantage
Captaine Lend thine; I'l try if hee be Princely.
Cap: lends him his Sword. Phocill. and Lyc: fight. Lycom falls:
Well done! Another.

Lyc.
Stand mee one Thrust more,
That I may forward fall and Looke my Graue
I'th fface

Captain Runns away.
Cap.
Here is noe staying for mee.

Ant: Lookes up
Ant.
Who's that my Brother? Now I goe unto
The Wrong'd Alceus; Hee had my heart first
But thou bewitch't mee, And I—

Dyes.
Pho.
Dy.

Ly.
How Came shee slayne?

Pho.
By my Hand
Vnwillingly as I in heate Pursu'd you.

Lyc.
And yet my Heart bursts. «not; sure» I «am»
Made by my Greifes soe.

Pho. reeles and falls
Pho.
I fall, and in my Death
Ariue at Penitence. My Soule Lookes out
And sees her Crimes about her. Sr, my Knees
Would begg your Pardon. Hee that kills a King
Does wound his owne ffame Backward, and Posterity
Will keepe it Raw for euer. Let noe Man
Thinke hee Can touch the Thunder of the Gods
And Escape Burning; Tis a Sinn that Loades
The Urne, and will not Let our Ashes Sleepe.
Forgiue mee Sr, soe shall this Death of yours
Be drown'd in mine, And you Liue to the World still
Mercyes Example; that when the Cold Ice
Of Death Creepes through my Vaynes and makes mee sti«**»
I shall becom your Pillar to Ascend by
Into her Mansion. Doe not fayle mee Sword
Soe will I kneele in Death, and Leaue my Body
To Waite on your Departure.

Hee Leanes upon his Sword and Dyes Kneeling.
Lycom.
Peace be thy Wings
To Carrie thee up yonder. Tis my Greife
That I shall seale the Deed I owe to Death
Without a Wittnesse. Will they neare returne
From theyr Long Chace? Then Blood and life fare«****»
I would not haue left you thus all alone.
And little Kingdom doe not grudge to Lend
Thy Lord a Turfe of Earth to Couer him
And a ffew Titles. Loyall Sword, Adue,
Th'art all I greiue to part with; And if there
Were any By I would Entreate the State
Wee might be Bedfellowes; But Wretched man
Is idle in the Graue, and soe shall I;
How many thousand yeares, for euer euer
Shall I be nothing! Villaines, Slaues, & Beggars
Will tread upon mee then without Respect;
And in an Age Perhaps, my noble Dust
Be Cast into the high Way. Happy Beasts,
You yet doe find a Liuing Sepulcher,
While man Lyes rotting in the Stupid Earth,
And his Ghost Wanders—oh. oh oh. For euer!—

Scena 8a:

Cleander. Dorimant. Diocles. Beotto. Captain brought in.
Cle.
Bring him in. his Speed betrayes his Cause.
Why made you such hast from the Priuy Lodgings?
Heauen! Prodigyes on Prodigyes! The King
Is murtherd, and Phocillus kneeling by him
Stiffe, and Dead. the Princesse too. O Sirrah,
You are a Master Villaine

Cap.
I know nothing.

Dor
Dor Wee'l make you, Sr. Call helpe. To what Pouerty
Is the State brought yt wants a Blood to Rule?

Beot.
Why my Lord, who am I:

Dor.
Sirrah be quiet
This is noe Tyme for ffooleryes. I'l Lay you by th Heeles

Beot.
Lay mee by th'Heeles!

Clea.
Let this same Rogue be Wrackt.

Dioc.
Cousin I'm Sorrie—

Dor.
Beare the Bodyes in;
The Sickly state's endangerd to be Ruin'd.
What shall wee doe

Cle.
Acquaint ye Lords what's happen'd,
And then Consult where the Succession lights;
Wee haue a Sea to Wade through.

Dor.
O you Gods,
When you are Angry, who Can beare yor Rodds?