 | The Fatal Contract, A French Tragedy |  |
Actus Quintus.
Enter Brissac, Dumain, Bourbon, Lanove, Martel.Dum.
For certain then the Princes are at odds.
Bris.
Yes, and the ground the marriage of my sister.
Burb.
The Ulcerous state is ripe, and we must launce it.
Bris.
The King doth Whore my sister; she's not his,
Dum.
Did not one Strephon wait upon the Monsiure?
Bris.
What's his condition?
Dum.
A Surgion, and famous for the cure o'th'Prince.
Bris.
Yes, such there was; but litle nois'd at Court.
Dum.
That was Lamot our fast and noble friend.
Mart.
There's some design on foot that hinders him,
He would not else neglect us.
VVithin, the Monsiure, the Monsiure, ho, ho, ho.
Bris.
What noise is that Lanove, step forth and see.
Du.
O death we are suppris'd, the Monsiure, suddenly
(again
Snared, let each man to his charge.
(again.
Bourb.
Hark, still the noise increaseth.
Bris.
By the sound, this is a shout of joy and not of dread;
Lanove the news?
(En. Lanove, the Monsiure, Lamot & others.
Monsi.
Brissac, Dumain, Martel, and you the rest,
Think not I come a Traytor to your Camp;
I cannot gild my speech with eloquence,
If this will serve you sir, I am a friend.
Bris.
The Monsiur's welcome, and his worth will grace
The dignity of this dayes work in hand.
Monsi.
My almost Brother once, suffice I thank you,
And fairly greet this brave assembly,
Whose souls do look for stirring opposites,
When your resistance I fear will be slender;
But were they centupul'd, i'l fight your cause,
Kings arm their subjects when they break their laws.
Omnes.
Long live the Monsiure.
Monsi.
Lead on, away.
Exeunt omnes.
SCEN. II.
Enter the Eunuch, whilst the waits play softly, and solemnly drawes the Canopie, where the Queen sits at one end bound with Landrey at the other, both as asleep.Eu.
Here sits our Beldam dieted for Venerie,
And by her, her Landrey not surfeited;
Her Ladyship's allou'd a mouldie crust,
Between them both they banquet like one slave,
Condemn'd perpetually to the Burdello;
They think I know not that they thus are us'd,
When it is onely I that use them thus.
How wickedly they look, oh I could laugh
To hear them rail at others misery;
He curses her, and she sooth curses him,
And both each other damn for their offences.
Learn ye that pamper up your flesh for lust,
The Eunuch in his wickedness is just. Play louder, they sleep too long.
Qu.
A mischief take thee keeper, hardned dog,
Whom no distress can melt or mollifie;
The cruell King doth not deny us sleep,
Although the Nursers of it, food and ease.
Eu.
Peace, peace, ye villains cease that ruder noise
That breaks your softer slumbers; gentle Queen,
I am not guilty of these harsh-voic'd words.
Your wilder sence hurle at me; you mistake,
I am your Eunuch, one that weeps for you.
Qu.
Oh Castrato, wast not those tears in vain,
Come hither and i'l catch those falling drops
Which prodigally over-flow their banks;
There's Nectar in thine eye, oh let me drink it;
These aged Cesterns are grown drie, and yeeld
Not one relenting drop to ease my thirst.
Castrato pitty me, my veins are parcht,
And this same flesh which walls about my soul,
Chops with excessive heat; a little water
Castrato, but a little, though it hath been
The birth of Toads, or what the leapers bath'd in;
O shew thy love but in a little water,
What can a Queen ask lesse, or subject grant her?
Eu.
Though I be tortur'd, for it yet i'l do it.
(Ex. Eunuch.
Qu.
It hath quencht half my thirst to find some pitty.
Land.
I cannot bite mine arm, their tyrannie
Denyes me what's mine own to feed upon,
Poor unfed sides that passe along the street,
I now am sensible of what ye want;
Did I e'r think to die for want of food,
Whose Table was the world, from whence I cull'd
The rarities of nature to delight me,
And more to feed my lust than Appetite?
One bit of bread, though it were gray with age,
Hoary and crusted with a second bark,
Whose loathed outside would not court a Dog
Arm'd with the edge of appetite, would seem
A rare rich banquet to my emptie gorge;
Oh I am worn to nothing with this want,
Such emptiness ha's hunger made of me
That you may draw me on another man.
Some bread, some bread.
Enter Eunuch with Wine and Meat, he congees with great reverence and ceremony to the Queen.
Qu.
Oh thou art welcome,
Quick, dear Eunuch quick; what needs this delay?
Away with form and ceremonious duty,
Respect in this is too respectless.
Eu.
O give me leave, I will begin a health;
It's very good, exceeding pleasant Wine.
Qu.
Dost thou deride my sufferance?
Eu.
No, no, not I.
Qu.
Give me the drink then, i'm all flame and fire.
Eu.
Say you so, say you so? then you must pardon me,
I love your safety, and it's dangerous
To drink while you are hot, pray cool and tarry:
In the mean while I will begin to you;
How tart and pleasing this is to the Palate,
A sweeter Pheasant Christendom affords not.
Land.
I thank thee Eunuch, prethee give it me.
Eu.
You'l let me tast it for you, will you not?
Are you so sharply set? fie, this sauce is naught.
Land.
Prethee make hast, hunger digest's no tasters.
Come sir, I must feed you, oh, oh, not so fast,
Be not so hasty; here, still you are too hasty;
(he puts it to his mouth, & puls it away again.
Gentle sir it will digest the better.
Land.
More, more, oh it is excellent.
Eu.
Madam, here's for you now.
Qu
May heaven reward thee for't, oh it's rare.
Eu.
How do you like your banquet great Landrey?
Land.
Beyond compare.
Eu.
And you your drink?
Qu.
The Gods tast not the like.
Eu.
Ha, ha, ha, y'have both eat and drunk abominable poyson.
Qu.
Ha!
Land.
How!
Eu.
'Tis true, I tell your Oracle;
There's not an hours life between ye both;
The poyson's sure, I did prepare it for ye,
And have my self taken an Antidote:
What say' now to th'other bout with Landrey,
I can procure a second meeting for you,
Indeed I can; think you not whoredome sweet
Now you are a dying? is not you soul at ease,
The murther of your Husband but a toy,
A flea-biting? alack you feel it not.
Qu.
Inhumane slave, treacherous Rascal.
Eu.
Good words, Lady whore, good words: what are you loose?
Landrey gets loose.
Miraculous famine, ha's your empty guts
Perswaded you to valour? will it scratch or bite?
I'm sure't has no weapon, Monsiure disarm it.
(shews a keen knife which he pulls out of his sleeve, staggers with faintness.
Lan.
He did so Rascal, yet your curious search
Ne'r pri'd into this sheath; do you see this:
With mine own hands it had let forth mine own life,
Had the proud Monsiure trusted us to any,
Thy self excepted, whom I now perceive
The onely Author of our misery.
(The Eunuch tript up his heels in scuffle and sits on him.
You'r very nimble Hell-hound.
Eu.
O Lord sir, you know the cause,
Yet I am weight enough to keep you down;
Stir and thou dy'st—now sir, what say you to me?
How did you like your old Queen? was she gamesome?
Did she apply her self like an apt whore
Unto your loose imbraces?
Land.
Dog, let me rest.
Eu.
Good my Lord pardon me,
Under your Graces favour be it spoken,
You are our cushion, and i'l sit on you.
I am not very heavie, am I sir?
(joults upon him.
I do not altogether weigh a man.
Qu.
Villanous Traytor,
O let him rise, and wreck thy spite on me.
Eu.
You cog now, you'd rather I should kill.
Qu.
O spare him, spare him; Eunuch save my servant,
And i'l forgive thee all thy sinnes against me;
There's not an injurie thou dost to him,
But wounds me to the soul.
Eu.
Pray then look here,
How easily this Skean is sheath'd in him;
An Engine of his own preparing Ladie,
And pittie't were so brave a Gentleman,
Such a neat hopeful whore-master as he,
Should die by any weapon but his own.
So perish all that love Adulterie.
There, sit you there again: once more to you,
(he sets him in his Chair.
Who if your poyson do not work too fast,
Shall see more sights like these before you die;
But lest you should prevent us with your tongue,
I will be bold to gag your Ladyship;
I'l leave a peeping hole through which you shall
See sights, shall kill thee faster than thy poyson;
(draws the Curtain again.
I am prepar'd now for Aphelia's death.
All things are ready, and behold the King.
Now for my part.
(Ent. Clotair melancholly.
Clot.
I am too pittiful, a watrie flux,
Which soft and tender hearted men call tears,
Too like my Bearer; it is now with me
Full tide in sorrow, my Cynthia governs strongly.
Eu.
How fares the great Clotair?
Clot.
What do the wise,
Castrato, call the moisture which presumes
To meditate betwixt my wrath and me?
Eu.
Expressions of a weak and silly nature,
Passion of fools and women: are you a man
And bear so tame a soul, such a smock spirit?
The Distaff owns more spleen, more noble anger;
Pray let her live untill the Pages write,
An hopping balladry verse rime upon you,
Great Clotair had a wife and she was fair,
Yea fairer than the flowerie meads in May;
(scoffingly.
Oh she was fair, yet foul; most ridling sence,
Oh it is horrid; then to conclude
In what a high streign you did take revenge,
How like your house and honour, hark, how she dies,
Strangled in tears fall'n from the Cuckolds eies;
You are her husband sir, and now must own
Her doubtfull issue, and her lawlesse lust;
Although a Bull should leap her, you must father,
And have a drove of forked Animals,
Shall have their horns born with them to the sound,
'Twill save their prodigall wives the reacky labour.
Clot.
Marry a Whore? father a bastard issue?
Eu.
I tell you truth, there's no avoiding it.
Clot.
Come bring her forth.
(Ent. Aphelia drag'd by two Ruffins in her petticoat & hair.
Alope.
Use not such violence good Gentlemen,
I'l walk a lamb to slaughter, not repine
At any torments you shall put me too,
Onely be modest: commend me to my Lord,
I doubt I never shall behold him more;
For by the calculation of your looks
I have not long to live.
Clot.
True Aphelia, confess & turn thy fate; give me to know
With what foul Monster thou hast wrong'd thy soul,
And ease me of a load that bears more weight
Than what my youthful sins have heap'd upon me.
Aphe.
If e'r my Lord—
Clot.
No more of that, it tends to madness;
I'l force it from thee; bring forth the tortures there;
I'l trie if in these fiery instruments
(Ent. man with pan and irons.
There lie a tongue, which better can perswade
Confession from thee; these red hot applied
Unto thy breast adulterate, shall extract
All future hope to suckle lawless issue;
The poysonous springs which from these hills arise,
Shall have their fountain head dam'd up by these.
Aphe.
I've heard you swear, that you were poor in words,
And knew not to express the happiness
Which you conceiv'd was habitable here.
How much my Lord is altred from himself!
Clot.
'Tis thou art altred; true Aphelia,
That whilst thy purer thoughts did awe thy will,
I lov'd like an Idolater: I was possest
That these two twins, these Globes of flesh, contain'd
All that was happy both in earth and heaven;
In this I could descrie the Milkey way,
The maiden Zone that girds the waste of heaven;
In this the seat of Paradice, and how
The wanton Rivelets plai'd about the Isle
Which puzzel yet Geopraphie: all this I could,
I could in thee my sometime chast Aphelia
Find and rejoyce in; but thou art now
An undrest wilderness wherein I walk,
Losing my self 'mongst multitude of beasts;
O savage actions! Come dispatch.
Aphe.
Sir—?
Clot.
I'l hear no more.
Aphe
Heaven will then;
And though it bear an ear far distant hence,
Both hear and pitty me. O my lov'd Lord,
Shoul'd but a dream work on my fancy,
It would conspire to kill me with more speed
Than these your threatning Ministers; alas,
I'l force a gentler nature in the steel,
And with my rainy eies weep out their heat;
Which as it dies should hiss it self to scorn,
For offering to contain but fire to hurt you;
And will you then a bold spectator stand,
Smiling at what I suffer? shed but one tear,
Or counterfeit a sorrow for my sake,
A little seeming woe, and I shall die
Sick of your kindnesse, not your crueltie.
Clot.
O my soft temper, her sweet harmonie
Will melt me into fool; to hear these words,
The Mother is to busie in mine eies;
What shall I do?
Eu.
Make a new Hell,
And if thou canst, create more Devils, do,
And they will find imployment all on her;
For since the generall Creation,
Time never did produce a fowler sinner,
Or one more begger'd hell in punishing.
Clot.
Thou hast awak'd me; Whore will you confesse?
Do not inforce your death through wilfulness;
(drags her by the hair.
Speak stubborn silence, or i'l break thy heart.
Aphe.
My Lord and Husband, oh my Lord and husband,
Regard my miserie and pittie me.
Clot.
Thou'rt cruel to thy self, I wrong thee not;
It is not I that tear this precious Fleece,
(again.
This glorious excrement, in validitie,
Another Cholcos better seeming Jason.
I pull not off these curious sporting Tresses,
(again.
Fit braids to Captive Kings hadst thou been honest.
I wound thee not, confesse, and live as free
As mountain air, I will not injure thee.
Aphe.
My gracious Prince, I dare not call you husband,
Your actions do forbid, which write me slave
And not your equall; if to be your wife
Or caus'd in you this phrensie, put me off,
I will indure it patiently; but if e'r—
Clot.
The old tune this, come, come, the Irons there.
Aph.
Oh, oh, oh, cruel my Lord, unmanly;
(they bind her to the Chair, the Eu. much sears her breast.
I will not curse yet heaven, no nor blaspheme,
Although mine injuries would half perswade,
Gods are not, or are deaf to innocents.
Sould.
Arm, arm, my Lord, the Castle's wall'd about
(Enter a Souldier hastily with his sword drawn.
With living Clay, three times ten thousand men,
Approved Warriers, souls of blood and fire,
That onely know to do, and not to suffer,
Make head against you; believe me sir,
A braver Troop, and spirits more resolv'd,
Life never put in action: young Brissac
Now old enough to quit his Fathers death,
Together with the ruine of his Sister,
H'as vow'd destruction to your name and ashes.
Clot.
Let them come on, wee'l dare them do their worst;
This Castle will indure a fortnights siege,
Before the expiration of which time,
My Brother with his fellow Peers of France,
Shall whip these Rebels for their insolence.
Know'st thou ought else; why dost thou shake thy head?
2 Sould.
Fly, fly, my Lord.
(Enter another Souldier.
Clot.
Villain, it is no language for a Prince.
(strikes him.
2 Sould.
Then stand upon your guard; yet that's as bad,
The Castle's wall'd about with walking steel,
And you but tempt your death in your escape,
If you stay here, provoke it.
The Monsiur, like the God of war, bestrides
A bounding Courser, who is therefore proud
To be so back'd, as knowing whom he bears:
So Centaur-like he's anckor'd to his seat,
As he had twind with the proud steed he rides on;
He grows unto his saddle all one piece,
And that unto his Horse; who thus unmov'd,
Sits like a Perseus on his Pegasus,
With words inflames 'em that did burn before,
But now appear much brighter; their glistering arms
Reflecting 'gainst the Sun, doth lightning mock;
Unto which blaze, their Drums and Horses hoofs
Do not want much of Thunder: such is the show,
As if great Mars, angry with humane race,
Did lead the Gods to battel 'gainst the Earth.
Eu.
How does your Grace? how fares your Majestie?
Clot.
The Monsiur? did he not name the Monsiur?
2 Sould.
I did my Lord.
Clot.
Is he joyned with them too?
Then Dooms-day is at hand, I see my ruine.
Go to the Castle walls to summon them
To render an accompt of their intents.
Ask the proud Monsiur (though I know the cause)
Looks on Aphelia.
Why his presumptious and ambitious feet,
Have on the bosome of his mother earth,
Made a broad road of treason: go, begone.
(Exe. Souldiers.
Castrato thou dost love me, i'm sure thou dost;
I have such proofs of thy true hearted-love,
That I must put my life into thy hands.
Thou see'st how all things stand, my wife she's false,
Her brother seeks my life, the Monsiur's thoughts
(Back'd with the ever factious souls of France)
Aim at the Gallick Crown and dignitie,
Whil'st I a catiff and neglected Prince
Must fall by traytors hands.
Eu.
What mean you sir?
Clot.
Look, here's a Pistoll in whose womb lies death,
A heavie leaden sleep.
Eu.
Would you I should
Trie the conclusion here? make her confesse
By other instruments her horrid guilt,
In this there's too much mercy.
Clot.
Hear me speak,
I'l trouble her no further; let her sin
Be punish'd from above, i'l wait heavens leisure,
For the adulterate Landrey; here, receive it,
And if thou lov'st me use it upon me:
Come shoot me through, I know I shall be slain,
(If not by thee, yet by the enemie)
And therefore to prevent the bitter scorn
Of the insulting foe (which is a death
So full of horror to the conquer'd,
No Tyranny is like it) use this handfull,
The handsom'st weed that nature can produce
In the large Storehouse of her providence,
Can shew no simple like it; for this cures
At once, the sicknesse of the mind and body.
Thou shalt, I know thou wilt, I prethee take it;
It is not murder, tender-hearted fool
Which thou commits, rather a sacrifice,
For which heaven will reward thee.
Eu.
I do not know the nature of your Gods,
Yet on your words i'l trie their kindnesse.
Clot.
Nobly resolv'd, come shoot me quickly then.
Eu.
I never was liker t'express my selfe
Than at this minute; do not betray me tears,
(aside.
The Eunuchs nature must be harsh and cruell.
Aphe.
O spare him Eunuch, spare him, save my Lord,
And i'l forgive thee all thy sins 'gainst me.
Eu.
Peace foollsh woman, 'tis thou that kill'st thy Lord,
Were't not for thee he might live long and happy;
Pray let me kisse your hand, and take my leave
Of my best best Master.
Clot.
Do't and be sudden then: ah what means this?
(as he kisses his hand, he snatches out his sword.
Eu.
Marry sir this it means,
That if this fail, this shall perform the deed;
Think not but I will kill you, do not fear,
I am the excellent'st he alive at these same toyes,
Look here my coufin'd fool I do not bungle.
(shews Landrey and the Queen.
Clot.
Are these dead then?
Eu.
As sure as you live, pray ask them else;
Unlesse this Ewes flesh too intense in heat
But in her dying ears i'l howl this noise;
Look Queen, here's the top-branch of all thy Family,
Mark but how kindly for thy sake i'l use him.
Clot.
Then I perceive I have been much abus'd,
So ha's my chaster Queen; oh my curst fate!
Eu.
Oh, do you so, do you so.
Qu.
Oh, oh, oh.
(Queen dyes.
Eu.
There broke a Strumpets heart; hear me King,
Thy Mother was a foul adulteress,
A cruel butcherer of innocents;
Witnesse thy brother, that thy Mother's false,
Witnesse thine own eyes that beheld the fall
And ruine of the Dumain Family.
Thy Mother's deep in blood, for which she's damn'd:
You ravisht fair Chrotilda; Clodimir
Your valiant Uncle, brother to this Queen,
Was for the foul fact slain; for which mistake,
Dumain, Lamot, Maria, Isabel,
And the abus'd Chrotilda, if by flight
She had not sav'd her life, had fall'n with them.
I knowing this, and ever pittying
The wrongs that they indur'd,
Have found it time thus to revenge them.
Clot.
What were their wrongs to thee?
Eu.
I'l not Capitulate mine injuries,
(beat a March softly within.
I hear my time is short.
Clot.
How fain would I preserve my life from death,
Since my Aphelia's chast; to think her false,
(Not that I fear the foe) made me dispair
Of future comfort. Eunueh, spare my life,
I will forgive thee, and reward thee too;
Remember who it is that sues to thee.
Eu.
In that remembrance I have lost my self,
I cannot strike him, my relenting heart
Yerns on his Princely person: take your sword,
But on condition Clotair, thou shalt swear
By thy descent, thy princely parentage,
To thy lust satisfi'd, by Aphelia's self,
Or any thing thy soul shall hold more dear,
Upon receipt, to guide the fatal point
Directly to thy heart.
Clot.
Why would'st thou so?
Eu.
Pish, I'l teach thee to be speedy in the fact;
Remember how thy Royall Father fell;
Behold thy Mother murther'd by this hand;
Into thy bosome cast thine inward eyes.
And view the sorrows I have heaped on thee:
Look on Aphelia, and let her wrongs
Prompt thy slow hand to this most timely flaughter;
I cannot brook delay, or do, or suffer.
Clot.
A Heathen, and a Traytor die with thee.
Eu.
A Christian Heathen Clotair if thou wilt,
Made so by thee; read that and break thy heart.
(Enter the Monsieur and his Comp.
Mo.
Force ope the door, seiz on his Royal person: now Clotair
Thou are the Monsieur's pris'ner; Tyrant say,
Where is Aphelia your Adulteress!
(stands amaz'd
Clot.
It makes no matter where.
Bris.
O my dear Sister, O my dearest life.
Dum.
See Noble Lords,
Here lies that Hel-hound Eunuch; villain up,
And tell us who ha's done these fatall deeds.
Eu.
They'r ne'r ali'd to thee that did these Acts,
Chrotilda and a woman.
Dum.
Villain thou li'st, my sister's gone a weary pilgrimage,
And for this many years with grief I speak it,
Been travel'd none knows where.
Clot.
What am I?
What strange and uncouth thing?
Eu.
A ravisher,
And better to instruct thee in thy self;
Had not Chrotilda been, incestuous.
Omnes.
Hold, hold your Royal hand; what will you do?
Clot.
What else but follow her; shall Clotair live
Inthral'd in wedlock that's incestuous,
O ravisher and murtherer of his friend,
There's no way left to rid me but my sword,
Of all these ills at once. Oh wrong'd Chrotilda.
Dum.
My sister?
Clot.
I Dumain, no Eunuch she;
No sun-burnt vagabond of Æthiope,
Though entertain'd for such by Fredigond.
I say here lies thy ravisht sister slain
By me the ravisher.
Dum.
Hold, hold, my heart.
Eu.
Lend me thy hand Clotair, have I thy hand?
Clot.
Thou most abus'd of women kind, thou hast.
Eu.
I should have kill'd thee King, and had put on
A masculine spirit to perform the deed;
Alas how frail our resolutions are!
A womans weakness conquer'd my revenge:
I'd spirit enough to quit my Fathers wrongs;
And they which should have seen me act that part,
Would not believe I should so soon prove haggard:
But there is something dwels upon thy brow
Which did perswade me to humanitie;
Thou injur'dst me, and yet I spar'd thy life;
Thou injurd'st me, yet I would fall by thee;
And like to my soft sex, I fall and perish.
Clot.
Speak, for ever speak: Chrotilda, Chrotilda.
Dum.
My Sister's in mine eies, this brave revenge
Should have been mine, and not thy act Chrotilda;
Away salt rhume, Chrotilda laughs at thee,
Her spirit is more manly.
Aphe.
I must weep too,
Mine injuries and hers are so near kin,
That they must bear each other company
In tears of blood and death;
For my griev'd heart too long with earth,
Would gladly seek a way to find out rest.
Clot.
Art thou joyn'd with her too against thy self?
My love is fatall, and too well thou know'st
The deadly proof in fair Chrotilda death;
Yet leave me not though I refrain thy bed,
And must abandon all those thoughts of love
Which married couples use; yet we may sit
And gaze upon each other, tell sad tales
Of ruin'd Princes, wrong'd Virginitie;
And when our utterance is tyr'd by speech,
Wee'l sit and sigh a sad parenthesis,
And then proceed again, then sigh again
A silent Chorus to our History;
Our tears shall keep our sorrows ever green,
Still springing, never ripe: shall we do thus
To lengthen out our grief?
Aphe.
For ever King,
The hand of heaven lies on me; for I feel
My inward and externall injuries
Wrestle with life, in which condition
My soul is woried by that Tyrant death.
I must forsake thee Clotair
Clot.
Stay awhile, it is unkindly done to leave me thus:
O she is gone, for ever, ever gone;
And I stand prating here between them both,
The fatall cause of death unto them both.
Wilt thou not break proud heart, I prethee break,
Prove not a Rebell to thy Prince like these;
It's well there is some loyaltie in thee yet;
Thou art commanded by me—
(the King faints.
Bris.
Gracious my Liege.
Clot.
Charles I have injur'd thee, and thee Dumain;
Can ye forgive me?
Bris.
Good your Grace
Call back your spirits, think what's to be done.
Clot.
I consider well, and the now King,
The quondam Mounsieur shall not denie me this;
Half of the honours of the dead Landrey
We do confer on thee, the other half
Thou of the Palace Major: this is our will.
Dum.
Great King, you are not yet so neer your end,
Forfend it heaven.
Bris.
Look up my Gracious Lord.
Monsi.
My Royall Brother?
Clot.
I begin to faint,
A darknesse like to death hangs on mine eies;
Lend me thine hand Brissac, and thine Dumain.
Good gentle souls when ye shal mention me,
And elder time shall rip these stories up,
Dissected and Anatomiz'd by you;
Touch sparingly this story, do not read
Too harsh a comment on this loathed deed,
Lest you inforce posterity to blast
My name and Memory with endlesse curses;
Call me an honourable murtherer,
And finish there as I do.
(He dyes.
Dum.
O Noble Lord,
Whose fame was very essence to his soul;
That gone, the other fled, choosing to die,
Rather then live a King in infamy.
Monsi.
A heavie spectacle of grief and woe
Have we beheld since our arivall here;
Take up the body of the King, and these
That for his love on either hand lie slain,
They shall lie buried in one Monument:
And take up these; this was a Royall Queen
When virtue steer'd her thoughts; but we may see,
When we turn foes to good, to vice a friend,
We fall like these, and like these thus we end.
A dead March within.
FINIS.
| The Fatal Contract, A French Tragedy | |