University of Virginia Library

SCENA VI.

Queen.
Well may our Patience, Daughter, be admir'd,
Which ha's the Tyrant and Heaven's Anger tir'd.
For in the King you now a Lover meet,
Who lays himself, and Scepter at your feet.
My Heart with swelling Joy is larger grown,
To think my Blood shall repossess the Throne;
To see our wither'd Hopes spring forth a new,
Whilst all our Ruines are repair'd in you.

Prin.
Madam, your Joy more then my own, I prize,
When from a lawful cause your Joy does rise:
But, Madam, yet I cannot find our Fate
Of the old Rigour does the least abate.
Till Heaven's slow Justice shall ordain a way
With his own Blood to make this Tyrant pay
What he so barb'rously ha's spilt of ours,
In wonted Sorrows we must spend our Hours:
Of the least joy should we be guilty found,
We both our Honour, and our Duty wound.

Queen.
Long have we mourn'd the Dead, yet all our grief
To them, or to our selves brings no Relief:
To their cold Ashes 'twere a fond respect,
The safety of the Living to neglect.

Prin.
If that safe way to Infamy shall lead,
I rather chuse the Paths of Death to tread.

Queen.
The name of Infamy can it deserve,
To follow Nature, and our selves preserve?

Prin.
Nature abho'rs, that you should call him Son,
Who ha's your Children rob'd of Life, and Throne.

Queen.
Do not those wounds of Fate to mind recall;
Becaus we much have lost, must we lose all?
If we have suffer'd Ship-wrack, and our best
Vessels are sunk, shall we not save the rest?

Prin.
Alas! are the rest sav'd, when you commit
Them to that Tempest, which the others split?

Queen.
Repentance turns that Tempest to a Calm.

Prin.
That Calm may soon relapse, and grow the same
Tempest again, swelling the Purple Flood
Both with the Brother's, and the Sister's Blood:
A Calm and Tempest mingle in this Wooer,
The Calm betrays, the Tempest does devour.

Queen.
Trust to a Mother's Judgment. The sure test
Of Princes meanings is their Interest.
That very Cause, which mov'd his Crueltie
Against my Sons, inclines him now to be
As kind to you: his Passion must be true;
In courting you he courts his Safety too.

Prin.
Shall then the Butcher of our Familie
By me, and by my love protected be?
Two Paricides did his foul hands imbrue,
When he his Soveraign in his Nephew slew.
Shall I be Instrumental to make good
His Power cemented by my Brothers Blood?
No Madam; If it be my Fate to prove
The object of his Cruelty, or Love,
It shall not be my choice to have a Room
In his loath'd Bed, but in my Brother's Tomb.

Queen.
'Tis true, a Sister's Love in some degree
May these transports of Passion justifie;
Yet in a Sister's Love you should not smother
The duty, which you owe a tender Mother.
My Sorrows, as my losses, are not less,
Then yours, though I their angry noise suppress;
And though I suffer not with blind Despair
A Mother's Grief to drown a Mother's care.
Daughter, submit: When I prescribe the way
Of safety, you in Duty must obey.

Prin.
The way prescrib'd does not to safety carry;
This Tyrant's Bed makes a bad Sanctuary.

Queen.
Were you a private Person, did you stand
Secure out of the reach of his Command,
I should agree with you; But 'tis your Fate,
His Love to suffer, or to feel his Hate:
No middle way can these Extreams avoid,
By him you must be marry'd, or destroy'd.

Prin.
Joyn'd with my Brothers in their silent Grave,
Losing my Life, I shall my Honour save.

Queen.
When you abandon Reason's steddy ground,
Honour is nothing, but an empty sound,
'Tis a false light, at which fools gazing stand,
Till they themselves on their own shallows strand.

[Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Madam, the King does in your Lodgings wait.

Queen.
Tell him I come. Before it be too late,
[Exit Servant.
Preserve your self, and me; live, and obey:
Throw not your Life, Heavens chiefest gift, away.
[Exit Queen.

Prin.
A Mother, and a Tyrant joyn to force
My plighted heart to an unjust Divorce:
But, Richmond! the Temptation of a Crown
Shall not divert me, nor a Tyrant's frown:
I'le follow thee, whom powerful Heaven does lead
To save the living, and revenge the Dead.
[Exit Princess.