University of Virginia Library


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Actus I.

Scena I.

Enter Jolas, Jolina.
Jolas,
Married? and in Diana's Grove!

Jolin.
So was th'appointment, or my Sense deceiv'd me.

Jolas,
Married!
Now by those Powers that tye those prettie knots,
'tis verie fine, good faith 'tis wondrous fine:

Jolin.
What is, Brother?

Jolas,
Why? to marrie Sister—
t'injoy 'twixt lawfull and unlawfull thus
a happinesse, steale as 'twere ones owne;
Diana's Grove, sayest thou?— Scratcheth his head.


Jolin.
That's the place; the hunt once up, and all
ingag'd in the sport, they meane to leave
the company, and steale unto those thickets,
where, there's a Priest attends them;

Jolas,
And will they lye together, think'st thou?

Jolin.
Is there distinction of sex thinke you?
or flesh and bloud?

Jolas,
True; but the King, Sister!

Jolin.
But love, Brother!

Jolas,
Thou sayest well;
'tis fine, 'tis wondrous fine:
Diana's grove—

Jolin.
Yes, Diana's grove,
but brother if you should speake of this now,—

Jolas,
Why thou know'st a drowning man holds not a thing so fast:
Semanthe! she shuns me too:

Enter Semanthe, she sees Jolas, and goes in agen.
Jolin.
The wound festred sure!
the hurt the boy gave her, when first
shee look'd abroad into the world, is not yet cur'd.

Jolas,
What hurt?

Jolin.
Why, know you not
shee was in love long since with young Zorannes,
(Aglaura's brother,) and the now Queenes betroth'd?

Jolas,
Some such slight Tale I've heard.

Jolin.
Slight? she yet does weepe, when she but heares him nam'd,
and tels the prettiest and the saddest stories
of all those civill wars, and those Amours,
That, trust me, both my Lady and my selfe
turne weping Statues still.

Jolas,
Pish, 'tis not that.
'Tis Ziriff, and his fresh glories here
have robb'd me of her.
Since he thus appear'd in Court,
my love has languish'd worse than Plants in drought.
But time's a good Physician: come, lets in:
the King and Queene by this time are come forth.

Exeunt.

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Enter Serving-men to Ziriff.
1 Serv.
Yonder's a crowd without, as if some strange sight
were to be seene to day here.

2 Serv.
Two or three with Carbonadoes afore in stead of faces
mistooke the doore for a breach, and at the opening of it,
are striving still which should enter first.

3 Serv.
Is my Lord busie?

(Knocks.)
Enter Ziriff as in his Studie.
1 Serv.
My Lord, there are some Souldiers without—

Zir.
Well, I will dispatch them presently.

2 Serv.
Th'Embassadours from the Cadusians too—

Zir.
Shew them the Gallerie.

3 Serv.
One from the King—

Zir.
Againe? I come, I come.
Exeunt Serving-men.
Ziriff solus.
Greatnesse, thou vainer shadow of the Princes beames,
begot by meere reflection, nourish'd in extreames;
first taught to creepe, and live upon the glance,
poorely to fare, till thine owne proper strength
bring thee to surfet of thy selfe at last.
How dull a Pageant, would this States-play seeme
to mee now; were not my love and my revenge
mixt with it?—
Three tedious Winters have I waited here,
like patient Chymists blowing still the coales,
and still expecting, when the blessed houre
would come, should make me master of
the Court Elixar, Power, for that turnes all:
'tis in projection now; downe, sorrow, downe,
and swell my heart no more, and thou wrong'd ghost
of my dead father, to thy bed agen,
and sleepe securely;
it cannot now be long, for sure Fate must,
as 't has beene cruell, so, a while be just.

Exit.
Enter King and Lords, the Lords intreating for Prisoners.
King.
I say they shall not live; our mercie
would turne sinne, should we but use it er'e:
Pittie, and Love, the bosses onely be
of government, merely for shew and ornament.
Feare is the bit that mans proud will restraines,
and makes its vice its vertue—See it done.
Enter to them Queene, Aglaura, Ladies, the King addresses himselfe to Aglaura.
So early, and so curious in your dresse, (faire Mistresse?)
these prettie ambushes and traps for hearts
set with such care today, looke like designe:
speake, Lady, is't a massacre resolv'd?
is conquering one by one growne tedious sport?
or is the number of the taken such,
that for your safetie you must kill out-right?

Agl.
Did none doe greater mischiefe (Sir) than I,
heav'n would not much be troubled with sad storie,
nor would the quarrell man has to the Starres
be kept alive so strongly.

King.
When hee does leave't
woman must take it up, and justly too;

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for robbing of the sex and giving all to you.

Agl.
Their weaknesses you meane, and I confesse, Sir.

King.
The greatest subjects of their power or glorie.
Such gentle rape thou act'st upon my soule,
and with such pleasing violence dost force it still;
that when it should resist, it tamely yeilds,
making a kinde of haste to be undone,
as if the way to victorie were losse,
and conquest came by overthrow.

Enter an Expresse delivering a Packet upon his knee. The King reads.
Qu.
Prettie!
The Queene looking upon a flower in one of the Ladies heads.
Is it the child of nature, or of some faire hand?

La.
'Tis as the beautie Madam of some faces,
Arts issue onely.

King.
Thersames,
This concernes you most, brought you her picture?

Exp.
Something made up for her in haste I have.

Presents the Picture.
King.
If she does owe no part of this faire dower
unto the Painter, she is rich enough.

Agl.
A kinde of merrie sadnesse in this face
becomes it much.

King.
There is indeed, Aglaura,
a prettie sullennesse drest up in smiles,
that sayes this beautie can both kill, and save.
How like you her Thersames?

Ther.
As well as any man can doe a house
by seeing of the portall, here's but a face,
and faces (Sir) are things I have not studied;
I have my dutie, and may boldly sweare,
what you like best will ever please me most.

King.
Spoke like Thersames, and my sonne,
come! the day holds faire,
let all the Hunts-men meet us in the vale,
we will uncouple there.

Exeunt.
Ariaspes: solus stayes behinde.
Ariasp.
How odd a thing a croud is unto me!
sure nature intended I should be alone,
had not that old doting man-mid-wife Time
slept, when he should have brought me forth, I had
beene so too—
Studies and scratches his head.
To be borne neere, and onely neere a crowne—

Enter Jolas.
Jol.
How now my Lord?
what? walking o'th'tops of Pyramids?
whispering your selfe away
like a deny'd lover? come! to horse, to horse,
and I will shew you streight a sight shall please you
more than kinde lookes from her you dote upon
after a falling out.

Ariasp.
Prithee what is't?

Jol.
Ile tell you as I goe.— Exeunt.


Enter Hunts-men hollowing and whooping.
Hunt.
Which way? which way?

Enter Thersames, Aglaura muffled.
Ther.
This is the grove, 'tis somewhere here within.—

Exeunt.

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Enter dogging of them, Ariaspes, Jolas.
Jol.
Gently! Gently!

Enter Orsames, Philan, a Huntsman, two Courtiers.
Hunts.
No hurt, my Lord, I hope.

Ors.
None, none,
Thou wouldst have warranted it to another,
if I had broke my neck:
what? do'st thinke my horse and I shew tricks?
that which way soever he throwes me
like a Tumblers boy I must fall safe?

was there a bed of roses there? would I were Eunuch if I had not as lief h'a falne
in the state, as where I did, the ground was as hard, as if it had been pav'd with Platonicke
Ladies hearts, and this unconscionable fellow askes whether I have no hurt;
where's my horse?


1 Court.
Making love to the next mare I thinke.

2 Court.
Not the next I assure you,
hee's gallop't away, as if all the spurs i'th' field
were in his sides.

Ors.
Why there's it: the jade's in the fashion too.
Now h'as done me an injurie, he will not come neere me.
Well when I hunt next, may it be upon a starv'd cow,
without a saddle too.

And may I fall into a saw-pit, and not be taken up, but with suspition of having
beene private, with mine owne beast there. Now I better consider on't too, Gentlemen,
'tis but the same thing we doe at Court; here's everie man striving who shall
be formost, and hotly pursuing of what he seldome overtakes, or if he does, it's no
great matter.


Phi.

He that's best hors'd (that is best friended) gets in soonest, and then all hee
has to doe is to laugh at those that are behind. Shall we help you my Lord?—


Ors.
Prithee doe—stay!
To be in view, is to be in favour,
is it not?

Phi.

Right,
and he that has a strong faction against him, hunts upon a cold sent, and may in time
come to a losse.


Ors.

Here's one rides two miles about, while another leapes a ditch and is in before
him.


Phi.

Where note the indirect way's the nearest.


Ors.

Good againe—


Phi.

And here's another puts on, and fals into a quagmire, (that is) followes
the Court till he has spent all (for your Court quagmire is want of money) there a
man is sure to stick, and then not one helps him out, if they doe not laugh at him.


1 Court.

What thinke you of him, that hunts after my rate
and never sees the Deere?


2 Court.

Why hee is like some young fellow, that followes the Court, and
never sees the King.


Ors.

To spurre a horse till he is tir'd, is


Phi.

To importune a friend till he be wearie of you.


Ors.

For then upon the first occasion y'are throwne off, as I was now.


Phi.

This is nothing to the catching of your horse Orsames.


Ors.

Thou say'st true, I thinke he is no transmigrated Philosopher, and therefore
not likely to be taken with moralls.
Gentlemen—your help, the next I hope will bee yours, and then 'twill bee my
turne.—


Exeunt.
Enter againe married, Thersames, Aglaura, Priest.
Thers.
Feare not my Deare, if when Loves diet

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was bare lookes and those stolne too,
he yet did thrive! what then
will he doe now? when everie night will be
a feast, and everie day fresh revelrie.

Agl.
Will he not surfet, when he once shall come
to grosser fare (my Lord) and so grow sicke,
and Love once sicke, how quickly will it dye?

Ther.
Ours cannot; 'tis as immortall as the things
that elemented it, which were our soules:
nor can they ere impaire in health, for what
these holy rites doe warrant us to doe,
more than our bodies would for quenching thirst.—
Come let's to horse, we shall be mist,
for we are envies marke, and Court eyes carrie farre.
Your prayers and silence Sir:— to the Priest.


Exeunt.
Enter Ariaspes, Jolas.
Ari.
If it succeed? I weare thee here my Iolas

Jol.
If it succeed? will night succeed the day?
or houres one to another? is not his lust
the Idoll of his soule? and was not she
the Idoll of his lust? as safely he might
have stolne the Diadem from off his head,
and he would lesse have mist it.
You now, my Lord, must raise his jealousie,
teach it to looke through the false opticke feare,
and make it see all double: Tell him the Prince
would not have thus presum'd, but that he does
intend worse yet; and that his crowne and life
will be the next attempt.

Ari.
Right, and I will urge
how dangerous 'tis unto the present state,
To have the creatures, and the followers
of the next Prince (whom all now strive to please)
too neere about him:

Jol.
What if the male-contents that use
to come unto him were discovered?

Ari.
By no meanes; for 'twere in vaine to give
him discontent (which too must needs be done)
if they within him gave't not nourishment.

Jol.
Well, Ile away first, for the print's too big
if we be seene together.—

Exit.
Ari.
I have so fraught this Barke with hope, that it
dares venture now in any storme, or weather;
and if hee sinke or splits, all's one to me.
“Ambition seemes all things, and yet is none,
“but in disguise stalkes to opinion
“and fooles it into faith, for everie thing:
'Tis not with th'ascending to a Throne,
As 'tis with staires, and steps, that are the same;
For to a Crowne, each humor's a degree;
and as men change, and differ, so must wee.
The name of vertue doth the people please,
not for their love to vertue, but their ease,
and Parrat Rumour I that tale have taught.
By making love I hold the womans grace,
'tis the Court double key, and entrance gets

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to all the little plots; the fierie spirits
my love to Armes hath drawne into my faction;
all, but the minion of the Time, is mine,
and he shall be, or shall not be at all.
He that beholds a wing in pieces torne,
and knowes not that to heav'n it once did beare
the high-flowne and selfe-less'ning bird, will think
and call them idle Subjects of the winde:
when he that has the skill to imp and binde
these in right places, will thus truth discover;
That borrowed Instruments doe oft convey
the Soule to her propos'd Intents, and where
our Stars deny, Art may supply—

Exit.
Enter Semanthe, Orithie, Orsames, Philan.
Sem.
Thinke you it is not then
the little jealousies (my Lord) and feares,
joy mixt with doubt, and doubt reviv'd with hope
that crownes all love with pleasure? these are lost
when once wee come to full fruition;
like waking in the morning when all night
our fancie has beene fed with some new strange delight.

Ors.
I grant you, Madam, that the feares, and joyes,
hopes, and desires, mixt with despaires, and doubts,
doe make the sport in love; that they are
the verie dogs by which we hunt the hare;
but as the dogs would stop, and streight give o're
were it not for the little thing before;
so would our passions; both alike must be
flesh't in the chase.

Ori.
Will you then place the happinesse, but there,
where the dull plow-man and the plow-mans horse
can finde it out? Shall soules refin'd, not know
how to preserve alive a noble flame,
but let it die, burne out to appetite?

Sem.
Love's a Chamelion, and would live on aire,
Physick for agues, starving is his food.

Ors.
Why? there's it now! a greater Epicure
lives not on earth; my Lord and I have beene
in's privie kitchin, seene his bills of Fare.

Sem.
And how, and how my Lord?

Ors.
A mightie Prince,
and full of curiositie—Harts newly slaine
serv'd up intire, and stucke with little Arrowes
in stead of Cloves—

Phi.
Sometimes a cheeke plumpt up
with broth, with creame and clarret mingled
for sauce, and round about the dish
Pomegranate kernells, strew'd on leaves of Lillies.

Ors.
Then will he have black eies, for those of late
he feeds on much, and for varietie
the gray—

Phi.
You forget his cover'd dishes
of Jene-strayes, and Marmalade of lips,
perfum'd by breath sweet as the beanes first blossomes.

Sem.
Rare!
And what's the drinke to all this meat, my Lord?


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Ors.
Nothing but pearle dissolv'd, teares still fresh fetch'd
from Lovers eyes, which if they come to be
warme in the carriage, are streight cool'd with sighs.

Sem.
And all this rich proportion, perchance
we would allow him:

Ors.
True! but therefore this is but his common diet;
onely serves
when his chiefe Cookes, Liking and Opportunitie,
are out o'th' way; for when hee feasts indeed,
'tis there, where the wise people of the world
did place the vertues, i'th'middle—Madam.

Ori.
My Lord, there is so little hope we should convert you;
and if we should, so little got by it,
that wee'll not lose so much upon't as sleepe.
Your Lordships servants—

Ors.
Nay Ladies wee'll wait upon you to your chambers.

Ph.
Prithee lets spare the complement, we shall doe no good.

Ors.
By this hand Ile try,
they keepe me fasting, and I must be praying.

Exeunt.
Aglaura undressing of her selfe, Jolina.
Agl.
Undresse mee:—
Is it not late, Iolina?
it was the longest day, this—

Enter Thersames.
Ther.
Softly, as Death it selfe comes on,
when it does steale away the sicke mans breath,
and standers by perceive it not,
have I trod the way unto these lodgings.
How wisely doe those Powers
that give us happinesse, order it?
sending us still feares to bound our joyes,
which else would over-flow and lose themselves:
see where shee sits,
like Day retir'd into another world.
Deare mine! where all the beautie man admires
in scattered pieces, does united lye.
Where sense does feast, and yet where sweet desire
lives in its longing, like a misers eye,
that never knew, nor saw sacietie:
tell me, by what approaches must I come
to take in what remaines of my felicitie?

Agl.
Needs there any new ones, where the breach
is made already? you are entred here—
long since (Sir) here, and I have giv'n up all.

Ther.
All but the Fort, and in such wars, as these,
till that be yeilded up, there is no peace,
nor triumph to be made; come! undoe, undoe,
and from these envious clouds slide quicke
into Loves proper Sphere, thy bed:
The wearie traveller, whom the busie Sunne
hath vex't all day, and scortch'd almost to tinder,
nere long'd for night, as I have long'd for this.
What rude hand is that?
One knocks hastily.
Goe Iolina, see, but let none enter—

Iolina goes to the doore.
Jol.
'Tis Ziriff, Sir.

Ther.
—Oh—

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Something of weight hath falne out it seemes,
which in his zeale he could not keepe till morning.
But one short minute, Deare, into that chamber.—
Enter Ziriff.
How now?
thou start'st, as if thy sinnes had met thee,
or thy Fathers ghost; what newes man?

Zir.
Such as will send the blood of hastie messages
unto the heart, and make it call
all that is man about you into councell;
where's the Princesse, Sir?

Ther.
Why? what of her?

Zir.
The King must have her—

Ther.
How?

Zir.
The King must have her (Sir)

Ther.
Though feare of worse makes ill, still relish better,
and this looke handsome in our friendship, Ziriff,
yet so severe a preparation—,
there needed not: come, come! what ist?
Ziriff leads him to the doore, and shewes him a Guard.
A Guard! Thersames,
thou art lost; betray'd
by faithlesse and ungratefull man,
out of a happinesse:—
He steps betweene the doore and him, and drawes.
the verie thought of that,
will lend my anger so much noble justice,
that wert thou master of as much fresh life,
as th'ast beene of villany, it should not serve,
nor stocke thee out, to glorie, or repent
the least of it.

Zir.
Put up: put up! such unbecomming anger
I have not seene you weare before.
What? draw upon your friend,
Discovers himselfe.
doe you beleeve me right now?—

Ther.
I scarce beleeve mine eyes:—Zorannes.

Zir.
The same, but how preserv'd, or why
thus long disguis'd to you, a freer houre must speake:
That y'are betrai'd is certaine, but by whom,
unlesse the Priest himselfe, I cannot ghesse
more than the marriage, though he knowes not of:
if you now send her on these early summons
before the sparks are growne into a flame,
you doe redeeme th'offence, or make it lesse;
and (on my life) yet his intents are faire,
and he will but besiege, not force affection.
So you gaine time; if you refuse, there's but
one way; you know his power and passion.

Ther.
Into how strange a labyrinth am I
now falne! what shall I doe Zorannes?

Zir.
Doe (Sir) as Sea-men, that have lost their light
and way: strike saile, and lye quiet a while.
Your forces in the Province are not yet
in readinesse, nor is our friend Zephines
arriv'd at Delphos; nothing is ripe, besides—

Ther.
Good heavens, did I but dreame that she was mine?
upon imagination did I climbe up to

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this height? let mee then wake and dye,
some courteous hand snatch mee from what's to come,
and ere my wrongs have being, give them end:

Zir.
How poore, and how unlike the Prince is this?
this trifle woman does unman us all;
robs us so much, it makes us things of pittie.
Is this a time to loose our anger in?
and vainly breathe it out? when all wee have
will hardly fill the faile of Resolution,
and make us beare up high enough for action.

Ther.
I have done (Sir) pray chide no more;
the slave whom tedious custome has enur'd
and taught to thinke of miserie as of food,
counting it but a necessarie of life,
and so digesting it, shall not so much as once
be nam'd to patience, when I am spoken of:
marke mee; for I will now undoe my selfe
as willingly, as virgins give up all first nights
to them they love:—

Offers to goe out.
Zir.
Stay, Sir, 'twere fit Aglaura yet were kept
in ignorance: I will dismisse the Guard,
and be my selfe againe.

Exit.
Ther.
In how much worse estate am I in now,
Than if I nere had knowne her; privation,
is a miserie as much above bare wretchednesse,
as that is short of happinesse:
So when the Sunne does not appeare,
'Tis darker 'cause it once was here.

Enter Ziriff speakes to Orsames and others halfe entred.
Zir.
Nay, Gentlemen:
there needs no force, where there is no resistance:
Ile satisfie the King my selfe.

Ther.
—Oh 'tis well y'are come,
there was within me fresh Rebellion,
and reason was almost unking'd agen.
But you shall have her Sir—

Goes out to fetch Aglaura.
Zir.
What doubtfull combats in this noble youth
passion and reason have!—

Enter Thersames leading Aglaura.
Ther.
Here Sir—

Gives her, goes out.
Agl.
What meanes the Prince, my Lord?

Zir.
Madam, his wiser feare has taught him to disguise
his love, and make it looke a little rude at parting.
Affaires that doe concerne, all that you hope from
happinesse, this night force him away:
and lest you should have tempted him to stay,
(Which hee did doubt you would and would prevaile)
he left you thus: he does desire by mee
you would this night lodge in the little towre,
which is in my command; the reasons why
himselfe will shortly tell you.

Agl.
'Tis strange, but I am all Obedience— Exeunt.