University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Cardinal and Blunt severally.
Card.
Hail to the Sacred Queen of Wit and Beauty;
Hail to the Empress of the World that should be.

Blunt.
What News? What Song of Comfort brings my Woolsey?
Methinks your Looks shine like the Sun of Joy,
And Smiles, more glittering than your Robe, appear:
Come, for I long to be partaker of it—
Say, is it Great? Shall Bullen sink to Hell?
Shall this proud Exhalation vanish streight?
Or, shall she still be Queen t'affront my Woolsey?

Card.
No: I'd first pawn both Body and Soul to Hell,
For but a Dram of Poyson that would kill
The Heretick.

Blunt.
Oh famous Cardinal!
Rome's Sacred Champion, and the Saints of Rome!
What can reward thee but the Mytre here,
And when th'art dead, a mighty Throne, as high
As was great Lucifer's before his fall?

Card.
Have I not liv'd more splendid than the King?
More aw'd and famous than was Harry still?
Have I not scatter'd with a Liberal Hand,
And sow'd more Seed to Charity, than all
The Kingdom else? Built such vast Palaces,
As neither Italy nor Rome can pattern?
Which England's Monarchs have been proud to dwell in.

Blunt.
And but for thee, the Nation had been scorn'd.

Card.
Who fram'd such sumptuous Embassies, as I,
With such a Glorious Train of Servants deck'd,
As Germany and France both wonder'd at,
And thought that all the Nation follow'd me;
Whilst Tudor here, as a less King than I,
Was serv'd, but with the gleanings of my Pomp?

Blunt.
'Twas Woolsey, our Great Master's greater Servant,
who, as he rode to meet the Emperour,
Ere he approach'd, first check'd his pamper'd Steed,
And stood at distance to receive that Monarch;
Whilst Maximilian, as became him best,
First did unlight, and first embrac'd my Woolsey.

Card.
And have not I rul'd Harry and the Nation
Shall then this strong Foundation of my Greatness
Be undermin'd by such a Wretch as Bullen!
By the weak practice of a spleenful Woman!
A thing, that I have made; a Poppet-Queen,
Drest up by me, to Act her Scene of Greatness,
And all her Motions guided by this Hand!

Blunt.
Shall she then Mount the Fame to ruine Woolsey?

Card.
No; by my Self, that moment she attempts it,
She pulls a dreadful Tower upon her Head;
When I begin to totter, if I must,
Like a huge Oak, that's leaning o're a Wall,
I'le take my Aim, and crush her with my fall—
Piercy's arriv'd, there's Aid for your Revenge.

Blunt.
I heard so, and perceiv'd it by the Queen.

Card.
By that she has discover'd the deceit,
And finds him Innocent, now 'tis too late;
This makes her careless, to her own undoing;
For when the Amorous King comes, loaded with
Big hopes, and thinks to take his fill of Joys,
Streight, like the sensitive, nice Plant that shrinks,
And on a sudden gathers up its Leaves,
When 'tis but touch'd, she will contract her Charms,
And shut 'em from him in her sullen Bosom,
As cold as Winter to his warm Embraces:
This, when the vext and passionate King perceives,
He'll hate, and cast her from him in a Rage.

Blunt.
See! yonders Rochford coming toward us,
Big with glad Looks, I hope, to be deliver'd
Of something that will forward our Design.

Card.
I will retire, and leave him to your Care,
To mannage him with all the Art of Woman;
And Hell, if Heaven wont, inspire your Wit
And Malice.
Ex. Card.

Enter Rochford.
Roch.
Brightest of thy dazling Sex,
That wears the Charms of all the World about thee;
How have I been this long, long hour in pain,
In Torments and in Darkness all the while!
Sun of my Joy, to waste the tedious Day,
And Star to gaze the live-long-night away.

Blunt.
O, you are grown a Courtier now indeed,
My Lord; but 'tis no wonder now, you are
Exalted, and are Brother to the Queen:
'Tis hard for one to gain a look from you,
Without the purchase of—I will not tell you—

Roch.
Ha! Brother to the Queen! to Jupiter:
And if my ravish'd Sense deceives me not,
I will not change my State to shine in Heaven!
To be the darling Brother of the Sun,
Or one of Leda's Twins that deck the Sky:
No, Castor I defie thee.

Blunt.
Hold, my Lord;
I will not chide you, though you have deserv'd it:
For all those Raptures are but starts in Love,
And seldom hold out to the Races end;
Or else like Straw that gives a sudden blaze,
And soon is out.

Roch.
Oh say not so, my Goddess!
The Negro, nearest Neighbour to the Sun,
That lives under the torrid burning Line,
Feels not the warmth that does possess my Breast.
And, oh forgive the vast Comparison,
Hell's flame is not so vehement or lasting.

Blunt.
Enough, my Lord: I'le put you to your Trial:
Prepare, and see how well you can obey;
But that you may not strive without all hope,
Like Slaves condemn'd for ever to the Gallies;
Here is my Hand, an Earnest of my Promise,
That as I find you Faithful, I'le Reward you.

Roch.
Your Hand! where am I! tell me, God of Love!

Blunt.
But mark me: Hear, as from a Prophet, this:
Be sure you merit well this first of Favours,
And keep the Oath you vow upon this Hand,
Else I'le denounce a worse than Hell shall follow
Your Sacrilegious Crime.

Roch.
Lo, here I swear—
But tell me, Heav'n! what signifies an Oath!
When 'tis impossible I should be false?
I swear upon this Altar, breathing Incense!
Eternal Love! Eternal Constancy—
Divinest, softest—Sweetest—

[Kisses her Hand.
Blunt.
Go my Lord.
And now you have it, brag to my undoing;
For never any but your King can boast
The like.

Roch.
And he, th'unworthiest of Mankind,
Who having such a Jewel in his Breast,
The Crown not half so Sacred, were it mine,
To sell it for a false and glittering Trifle:
So silly Indians barter Gold and Pearls
For Baubles.

Blunt.
What your Sister, treach'rous Man!
You do not mean it; nor can I endure
To hear her so degraded; if 'twere real:
Sh'has Goodness, and has Beauties more than I,
And merits what she does possess, a Crown:
And much the more, because she sought not for it;
Which is the cause, I fear, that she's unhappy—
You visit her, not only as a Brother,
But as a Friend, and Partner of her Councils;
You love like Twins, like Lovers, or indeed
As a fond Brother, and kind Sister should.
How bears she this unwelcome State? or rather,
How does she brook the Wrong that's done to Piercy?

Roch.
All her Reflections on it streight will vanish;
A King and Crown are Charms invincible;
No Storms, nor Discontents can long abide,
Where Love and Empire plead: but soon will flye,
Scatter'd like Mists before the Sun of Power.

Blunt.
You speak indifferently, my Lord, and like
Mistrust of her you Love: I long to hear
The more what you would fain disguise from me—
Have you so soon forgot the Oath you took?
Or is't so lately, that you think 'tis scarce
Reach'd down to Hell, to claim you Perjur'd there?
Or think you that I e're can hate the Sister,
When with a blush I own, I love the Brother?
False and ungrateful Man! farewell.

Roch.
O stay!
Rip open my Bosom to my naked Heart,
And read what-e're you think is written there.
Had I no Tongue to speak, I'd suffer that,
Rather than once deny you any thing.

Blunt.
He softens, turns, and changes, as I'd have him;
[Aside.
His Waxen Soul begins to melt apace:
He is my Slave, my Chain'd and Gally Slave:
Oh that I had but Harry so to torture!
But I'le Revenge my self on this soft Fool,
On Bullen, and on all their Race at once
That were the Cursed cause of my undoing.
You find my Passion and good Nature quickly,
[To Roch.
That makes you use me thus.

Roch.
Ten thousand Pardons—

Blunt.
No more; I can forgive, if you deserve it;
I charge you, as a Sign of your Repentance,
Go visit streight the Queen, and Piercy too;
You hear he's come to Court; and what you learn
From them, that ought concerns their former Loves,
From time to time, acquaint me with the Story,
And you shall lock the secret in my Breast,
As safe, as in your own.

Roch.
'Twere Blasphemy
But to suspect it.

Blunt.
I require this of you;
Not that I doubt the Virtue of the Queen,
But know, that, worse than Hell, I hate the King,
(To which just hatred 'tis you owe my Love)
And wish your Sister, and all Humane kind,
Would hate him too.

Roch.
I'le instantly obey you.

Blunt.
Come back, my Lord; this readiness has charm'd me:
And now I can't but give you some kind hopes—
You may have leave to visit me hereafter.
And talk of Love, perhaps I'le take it kindly.

Roch.
Blest Harmony! Happiest of Mankind, I.

Blunt.
And you may write to me, and best by Proxy:
For tho the King not visits me, as he was wont,
Yet he is Jealous—
Let all your Amorous Letters be disguis'd,
Under the borrow'd Name of Brother still,
Directed to me by the stile of Sister.

Roch.
In all things I'le obey my lovely Goddess!

Blunt.
These Papers once shall be of Consequence.
[Aside.
See, the Queen comes, her Soul in discontent,
[To Roch.
And longs to be disburthen'd. I will leave you—
A fit occasion's offer'd, now she's on
The Rack, to ease her by a fond Confession.
[Ex. Blunt.

Enter Queen and Ladies.
Queen.
Where am I now?—My Brother! Is it you?
I hear that Piercy's come to Court.

Roch.
He is.

Queen.
Where shall I hide my guilty Face from him?
And shut me where he ne're may see me more?
For now I start at every humane Shape,
And think I meet wrong'd Piercy in my way,
Like one escap'd for Murther, in his Flight
Shuns every Beast, and Trembles at the Wind,
And thinks each Bush a Man to apprehend him.—
Enter Diana.
I sent thee to the Queen, Diana, say,
How fares she in her hopeless, lost Estate?
What Answer bring'st thou, that is Death to hear?
Come talk of Misery, and fill my Breast
With Woe: I'le lay my Ears to the sad sound,
And thence Extract it as the Bees do Hony,
Grief is the Food that the afflicted live by—
Talk any thing; there's nought so dreadful as
The thoughts of injur'd Piercy, in my Breast.

Dian.
The Princess Dowager is dead.

Queen.
What Princess?
Art thou a temporizing false one too?
And hast so soon forgot she was thy Queen?

Dian.
Queen Katherine's dead.

Queen.
Alas! then is she dead!
Then she has got the start of Anna Bullen—
Came you too late to pay my Duty to her?

Dian.
No: for sh'enjoyed her Senses to the last,
And then not seem'd to dye, but fall asleep.

Queen.
So bold is Innocence, it conquers Death,
And after makes amends for all the wrongs
Sustain'd in Life.

Dian.
When I began to tell her,
I came by your command, to make a tender
Of your most humble Duty, and Condole
Her Majesties Misfortune and Distemper;
She check'd me at that word, and as you have seen
A clear Sky, with a travelling Cloud o'retook,
And quickly gone, so she put on a Frown,
Which did not last, and answer'd with a Smile:
Why did you say, your Majesty to me,
She said, a Name I loath? Go, tell your Queen,
Let her not fix on Greatness to be happy,
But take a sad Example here by me:
I, who was Daughter, Niece, and Sister too,
To three great Emperours, and Wife, alas!
To the most potent Prince in Christendom,
Must Dye more wretched than the meanest Creature,
In a strange Country, 'midst my Enemies,
Not one of all my great Relations here
To pity me, nor Friend to bury me:
And then she wept, and turn'd her gentle Face
The other way, and quickly after Dy'd.

Queen.
Go on; Why dost thou cease this Melody?
Thy Voice exceeds the mourning Philomels;
The dying Swan takes not that pleasure in
Her note, as I in such Celestial Musick:
Hast thou no more of it?
Come play the Artist: Shew thou to my Fancy,
Th'Infernal Paths that lead to Infinite Horror;
Op'n all the Charnel Houses of the Dead,
And fright away, if it be possible,
The sad Remains of injur'd Piercy here.

Enter King.
[Exeunt Diana and Rochford.
King.
Yonder she is, in Tears amidst her Glories!
You lavish Stars, what will content this Scorner?
From a mean Spring I took this shining Pebble,
And plac'd her in my Heart, and in my Crown,
The fairest and the best lov'd Jewel there:
And sate her on my Throne to be ador'd:
Yet she contemns all this, and would do more,
The Heavens are all too narrow for her Soul!
Gods, you must flatter and descend to her,
Or she'll not stir one jot to you—She is
So very proud.

Queen.
My Lord.

King.
Sit down again,
I but disturb you; therefore I'le return;
For sure they must be tender thoughts, for which
You pay such lavish Tribute from your Eyes.

Queen.
Sir, I was thinking of th'uncertain State
Of Greatness, and amongst its sad Misfortunes,
What would become of me, alas! if you
(Which I've no reason to suspect)
Should change your Love; and that produc'd these Tears.

King.
Y'are in the right, if that should ever happen;—
But what begets such Doubts within your Breast?
You have done nothing to deserve such fears:
You love me, and as long as that shall last,
Mistrust not Harry.

Queen.
By my hopes I do.

King.
Blest sound. I will hear nothing but my Bullen!
Woolsey and Devil tempt me now no more!
[Aside.
Then shake these Clouds of sorrow from thy Eyes,
And dart thy brighter Beams, like April Sun-shine,
Into my Bosom, and thus lock me ever—
Oh, now I nought remember but thy Charms,
And quite forget what-e're I was before.
One word of Bliss, one word of Softness from thee,
To banish hence Suspitions, like the Plague,
And clear our Breasts from jealousies for ever—
What, not a syllable do I deserve?
These Kisses, faint Embraces, and these Odours,
Are ravish'd, not bestow'd upon me—ha!

Queen.
What means my Lord?

King.
What means the Traiterous Bullen?
By Heav'n she wants the cunning Trick and Skill;
The easie quick Delusion of her Sex,
To hide her falseness—By all Hell she's damn'd.

Queen.
O Gracious Sir.

King.
Too gracious not to kill thee—
For whom, for whom are your kind Looks reserv'd?
Hide you your Minion; for his safeguard, do.
For were he 'mongst his happy Stars, I'd reach him.
I'm frightful as a Ghost, or a Disease:
For when I think to hold her in these Arms,
She struggles like the Quarry in the Toil:
And yields her self unto my loath'd Embraces,
With such a forc'd and awker'd willingness,
As men, when they are past all hopes of life,
Resign themselves into the power of Death.

Queen.
What Fiend has put such Thoughts into your Breast?
When did I wrong you? How have I been false?
Yet I will not complain against my Lord.
Since 'tis your Will—Sir, have I not obey'd you?
No Slave so humbly faithful to your Pleasures,
And in your Bed, with blushing, paid those Duties
That modest Virgin, or chast Wife could do:
And if I was not wanton, pray forgive me.

King.
Yes, yes, I have your outside; but Hell knows,
And thy false self, who 'tis enjoys thy Soul!
You yield to me indeed, 'tis true: but most
Unwillingly you part with your dear Sweets,
Unless it be to him that has your Hoard,
But guard your fatal Honey with Sting
'Gainst those you hate—Your Person you resign,
But as to Prison; my Arms are but the Grates
Through which your Mind is longing still to be abroad:
Nay in the very Moment of Enjoyment:
And who would think but then I should be happy?
There's still another's Picture in your Heart,
On which you look, and fansie I am He,
And all the while I'm sporting for another.

Queen.
Can Heav'n hear this! O cruel, faithless Lord.

King.
No: to thy Syren's Voice I'le stop my Ears;
A thousand times, like them, th'hast cheated me,
Laid my just Passion to a gentle Calm,
VVhilst Storms behind were ready to devour me.
On thy false dangerous Charms I'le wrack no more,
But seek for shelter on some kinder Shore;
A grateful Beauty here shall reign alone,
And chace thee from my Heart, and from thy Throne.
Ha! who comes there? My gentle Woolsey come,
And with thy Counsel streight defend my Breast.

[The King meets Woolsey, and goes out leaning on him.
Queen.
Did not my Lord flye from me in a rage,
Arm'd with a Frown, and darted it quite through me?
And Woolsey in his Favourites place again?
Nay, then the Wonder is expir'd; that proud,
That great bad man, and Lucifer, ne're meant
Me nor my Virtue well—The King's Inconstancy
Begins to shew its Janus Face again:
And all the Doubts of an Unhappy Wretch,
My Fears by Day, and horrid Dreams by Night,
Are come to pass.

Enter Piercy.
Pier.
What shall I fear to see her!
And tell her Face to Face the Perjuries
And Falseness that sh'has heap'd upon her Soul,
And ruin'd mine?—Lo, where the False one is!
In counterfeited Grief? By Heav'n in Tears!
As if her sins already did upbraid her!
Just Pow'rs! can you behold a Form so fair,
And suffer Falseness to inhabit there?
The Morning Sun risen from its Watry Bed,
Less precious drops does on Arabia shed:
And sacred Viols of rich April-Showers;
When he alternate Rain and Sun-shine pours;
Nor is he half so Beautiful and Gay,
As she a wiping of those Tears away.

Queen.
Ha, Piercy! I'm betray'd. Advise me Heav'n!
What shall I do!—Begone, this place is Hell;
Vipers and Adders lurking under Smiles,
And flatt'ring Cloths of State: Oh! do not tread here;
Under this Mask of Gallantry and Beauty,
Is a rude Wild; nay, worse, a dangerous Ocean,
Into whose Jaws, Love, like a Calenture,
Will tempt us, where we both must Sink and Perish.

Pier.
What, can so mean a Creature fright a Queen!
Behold a wretched Thing of your undoing.

Queen.
See where he stands, the Mark of pity, Heav'n!
Shut, shut thy Eyes, and fly with speed away;
Or view the Rocks and Quick-sands, if thou stay,
Lest this rough Hellispont I venture on,
And like Leander tempt my Fate, and drown.—
[Ex. Queen.

Pier.
Ha! she's surpriz'd! shuns me! and flies from me!
And more affrighted is at Piercy's wrongs,
Than Guilty Ghosts, that having scap'd to Earth,
Hear the Cock Crow to summon 'em away,
And start and tremble at the sight of Day.
But yet she look'd not like a Foe upon me;
And as she parted, told me with her Eyes,
That there was something in those speaking Tears,
Which might Excuse her, and Condemn her Piercy.

Enter Northumberland.
North.
Son, I am come to tell you joyful News,
The King has Charm'd the fair Diana for thee,
And is resolv'd to Marry her tomorrow,
And Celebrate the Nuptials with a Pomp.

Pier.
The King! the King is Marry'd, Sir.

North.
He is.
But thou art not: H'intends to give her to thee
Himself: Why dost thou start? 'Twas but this day
You Swore and Vow'd, with all the Signs of Joy,
And Duty to your Father, you'd obey me.

Pier.
Alas! I did: But cannot Heav'n, nor you
Forgive a rash, unhappy Man his Vow?

North.
No: by the Blood that Honours Piercy's Veins,
I swear, I will not—
For Marry'd thou shalt be, and that to her,
Or live a Vagabond, banish'd from Wealth,
From Friends, and Pity; whilst I will advance
Thy Younger Brother to thy lost Estate,
And see thee starve; nay, more, and loaded with
The Curses of thy Father—

Pier.
Hold, Sir!—
I'le strive t'obey you; not because I fear
What Misery, or Death can do to me;
Nor to avoid the hungry Lyon's Den,
Or Dragons Teeth, just ready to devour me;
For know, I plunge into a State more dreadful:
But that I may not be th'unhappy Cause
Of dragging wrongful Curses from a Father,
Which rather turn upon his Head that aims,
Than hurt the Bosom of the Innocent.

Enter Diana.
North.
See! she is coming, brighter than a Goddess—
I'le leave you, and commit you to her Cure.
[Ex. North.

Dian.
Yonder's the dear-lov'd Man, whom all must love,
That loves another too. What shall I say?
[Aside.
Spite of my Stars, I dote upon a Person,
Who has no Heart, no Eyes that are his own;
Nor yet one look that ever can be mine.

Pier.
Madam! d'you hear the news? My Father tells me,
W'are to be Marry'd.

Dian.
So the King will have it.

Pier.
The King! What would the Tyrant be a God?
To take upon him to dispose of Hearts!
And joyn unequal Souls with one another!
O Beautiful Diana! Y'are all Goodness,
A store of Virtues in as bright a Person,
As Heav'n e're treasur'd in a Form Divine:
If so, what can your Eyes behold in me?
What see in such a wretched thing as I,
To Marry me?

Dian.
How Charming is his Person!
And much more Charming is his Grief! And oh—
How can she e're receive a Wound more deadly,
[Aside.
Than I, tormented with the double Dart
Of Love and Pity—Some kind Deity
Assist me now, lest I should shew I love him,
And teach my Tongue how to bely my Heart.

Pier.
You seem to study for so plain an Answer.
Come tell me streight my faults, and what you think;
For here I stand, the Mark of Truth to aim at.
What is there, in this miserable Shape,
To look on without Scorn?

Dian.
Now kind, Heav'n,
Lend me the Cunning now of all my Sex!
[Aside.
I like you just as well as you like me;
[To Piercy.
Our Persons might, for all you said of mine,
Be mended both, and both receive Additions:
And for your Nature, I'le be plain, and tell you,
I could have wish'd a Man of better humour;
But 'tis no matter, since w'are both so bad,
We are the fitter then for one another.
Just Gods! what miserable Things we are!
[Aside.
Oh! when shall we attain that blest abode,
Where we may never fear to speak aloud,
What's Just, and is no Sin?

Pier.
What, do you hate me?
Then y'are happier one Degree than I;
For should you love me, you are truly wretched.

Dian.
Indeed he little thinks I am that Wretch.
[Aside.
Tell me wherefore?

To Piercy.
Pier.
Because the Cruel God
Has rob'd me of my whole Estate of Love,
And left me naked, desolate, and poor;
Not worth one Sigh, nor Wish, if that could pay
The Debt I owe: Nay, should you come a begging,
Cold, and half starv'd, for Succour to my door,
You would not find, in all this rifled Cottage,
One Spark, one Charitable Spark, to warm you.

Dian.
Hear, Heav'n! hear, Cruel One! who-e're thou art
He loves, tho I am slighted, scorn'd, nay hated,
[Aside.
Wou'd thou hadst my Kind Eyes, my Breast, my Soul,
Would all my Vital Blood were Balm to Cure him.
Yet will our Cruel Parents have us Marry'd:
[To Piercy.
Then, since we must, how know we but our Bodies,
And yet more Careless and Despairing Souls,
In time may grow to such Indifference,
As quite forgetting of what Sex we are,
We may like faithful and condoling Friends,
If not like Lovers, live together.

Pier.
Ay;
And when y'are sad, I'le Kiss you like a Brother;
And if you sigh, or chance to shed a Tear,
I will weep too, and ask you why you grieve;
And you shall do the like to me, and streight
Embrace me like a Sister, still remembring
The Subject of our just Complaints shall be,
You that y'are Marry'd—

Dian.
You for Marrying me.

Pier.
O rarely thought! 'twill be the only Means
To make us happy both against our Wills;
We'll moan, we'll sigh, we'll weep; we'll all but love—
Instead of loving, pity one another.

Dian.
And who can tell but Pity may at last,
By gentle, soft Degrees, grow up to Love.

Pier.
Come, let's away then, since they'll have it so;
Meet these glad Rites to all Mankind but us,
Where the malicious Charm shall join our Curses,
And not our Persons, but our Woes together:
Then turn us loose, like two Condemn'd, lone Wretches;
Banisht from Earth, no Creature but our selves,
In an old Bark on wide and Desart Seas,
In Storms by Night and Day, unseen by all,
Unpity'd tost, not one dear Morsel with us
To ease our Hunger, nor one drop of Drink
To quench our raging Thirst, and which is worse,
Without one jot of Rigging, Sail, or Steer to guide us.

Dian.
Forgive me, Heav'n! Forgive me all my Sex,
[Aside.
That ever lov'd, or e're was scorn'd like me!
Tho 'tis my Fate for ever to be hated,
Tho we are doom'd to dwell, like wandring Wretches,
In worse than what his worst of Sorrow paints;
Yet I must love him, and resolve to Marry him;
And now I challenge all the wondring World,
And more admiring Angels, if they can,
To find who most is to be pity'd, He
Or I—Quick, let us launch then with a Courage,
[To Piercy.
Since 'tis our King and Cruel Parents Wills.

Pier.
And give a rare Example to the Marry'd,
Of Constancy: For that which severs them,
Possession of their pall'd and loath'd Enjoyments,
Our faithful Woes shall join our Lives the faster.

Dian.
And having each of us so mean a Stock
Of love, I in your Breast, and you in mine;
We need not fear that Thieves should come to rob us.

Pier.
Nor Jealousie to part us.

Dian.
Well then, Piercy:
When our expected Sentence is perform'd,
Where shall we take our welcome Banishment?

Pier.
To the World's End! Far from all fruitful Grounds,
From Corn, and VVine, or any wanton Spring;
In some dead Soil, so barren and so curst,
Where neither loathsom Weeds, nor Thistles grow.

Dian.
Or some deep Cave, where Winds are all so still,
And Beasts so far remote, that we shall hear
No Howls, nor Groans, but what we make our selves.

Pierc.
No: on some dreadful Rock we'll chuse to lye,
Whose dismal Top seems fasten'd to the Skye;
Thence we can look on all the World below,
So full of Vanity, so full of Woe!
And sometimes on the Wrack-devouring Seas,
The Emblem of our present Miseries:
Sigh for the Creatures, think the Storms we see
Our Cruel Parents, and the Wretches We.

Dian.
Or waste our Days in wandring to and fro,
And make our Lives one Harmony of Woe.

Pier.
'Till Heav'n shall rain down pity on us—

Dia.
No.
We'll not be pity'd. Pity's half a Cure;
That will bring Comfort, which we'll ne're endure.

Pier.
O my Virago Partner.

Dian.
Nay, I dare you.

Pier.
Then here we'll take an Oath, and with this Kiss
Let's strike a League with Woe, adieu to Bliss!
And now I challenge the All-seeing Sun,
From his proud Prospect, his high Seat at Noon;
'Mongst all the Wonders of the World, to spy
A Couple half so kind as thee and I;
Or all the Matches that e're Love decreed,
If ever Man and Wife so well agree'd.
Love oft-times flies from Misery and Pain;
But we resolve the closer to remain.
What though we Wed in Hatred, we may mend;
We but begin where others surely end;
And each of you that Marry first for love,
VVe are but sooner, what at last you'll prove.

[Ex. Ambo.