University of Virginia Library

The Third Act.

The Scene of the Field continues. Enter Trivultio and an Officer.
Tri.
No hopes my ruin'd honour to regain!

Off.
No hopes! your men are either fled or slain!

Tri.
This was the ambush of some cursed star,
That envyed all the fame I got in war.
Both Kings disdain me, and I've lost the day,
And all my hopes,—my fame's dam'd every way.
One scorns my Sword: The other my defence,
Charles slights my aid, Ferdinand my penitence.
But ah! there's yet some hopes on yonder Hill
I see King Ferdinand's banners waving still.

Off.
And I descry on yonder rising ground,
A Prince with armed throngs encompa'st round.
And Lyon like he strives to get away,
Or make the Hunters to become the prey.
By all that at this distance I can see,
By Habits, Plumes, and courage it is he.
Here's one that can inform us.

Enter a second Officer.
Tri.
Where's the King.

2. Off.
Lost without aid,—encompast with a Ring
Of hot French Cavalry, in yonder Grove,
Where for defence he did his Troops remove;
Finding his passage to the Town oppos'd,
And now with all their Troops he is enclos'd.

Tri.
The King is safe, for to his aid I come,
With these few Troops I'le yet reverse his doom.
And now the bloudy fate of Charles is near,
And see, the Valliant Prince of Salerne here.

Enter Prince of Salerne.
Tri.
Welcome thou fate of Kings! what power divine
Sent thee to raise thy own renown and mine.
Our stars are penitent! In yonder shade
They've Lawrels for us hid in ambuscade,
To Crown us if we bravely fetch 'em thence.
Both Kings have there refer'd their great pretence,
To our decision, as we please we may
Give Crowns, and rule the fortune of the day;
And Kings destroy or save,—Lets e're we go,
Resolve on which we Naples will bestow.

Sal.
On neither—On my self.

Tri.
I do agree.—

Sal.
They are both equally contemn'd by me;
Nor do I fight to give 'em Crowns, but Tombs,

Tri.
They both shall dye; we will decree their dooms;
We'l fall on Charles to raise our sinking fame,
And save young Ferdinand for an after-game.

Sal.
Pursue thy fortune, I'le destroy or save,
As I, and not as Men or Gods would have.
In the high chace of fame, I'le not be shewn
What way to take, but will pursue my own.
I hatoe both Kings and firmly have decreed,
Both by my Sword successively shall bleed.
But in the field, I'le a brave death afford
To Charles, who seems most worthy of my Sword:
The other is by fortune brought too low,
His life, on Isabel, in pity I'le bestow.

Exit.
The Scene is drawn, and there is presented a thick Grove filled with Armed men, Battalions surrounding it at a distance out of which comes Ferdinand and Ascanio with a party.
Ferd.
All the remainder of my Army gone
And left me in this high exigent alone?

Asc.
Sir, they are all revolted, slain or fled,
Mixt with the French, the Rebels or the dead.

Ferd.
Then I perceive
I've tempted my high destiny too far,
Wading too boldly in the depths of War;
And tis but Valours Herisie to flye,
At mysteries of fame that are too high.
And Monarchs though high Priests of fame they be,
Have not in arms Infallibility.
But if I have err'd in courage, tis to you
My brave Ascanio, all the blame is due.

Asc.
To me Sir!

Ferd.
Yes, thou, fought'st with so much flame,
Thou mad'st thy Monarch jealous of his fame;
Rushing where e're I could most danger see,
Only in honour to out-rival thee.

Asc.
I only fought in duty Sir, to bear
Off all those wounds you sought some little share.

Ferd.
In this thy King thy Courage disapproves;
Thou ought'st to save the man, thy Monarch loves.
And not so easily expose to ate,
What Monarchs value at the highest rate.

Asc.
Subjects or Kingdoms are but trifling things,
When laid together in the scale with Kings.

Ferd.
In this dispair what shall's resolve upon,
To stay or cut our passage to the Town.

Asc.
Sir, their whole Army doth the Grove surround,
All we can do, is to maintain our ground.

Ferd.
Why are they at a stand, and make us stay,
Guarded like hunted Lyons at a Bay.

Off.
'Tis said their King commands 'um to forbear,
He saith your person is too great a share
For common Swords, a purchase so Divine
As a Kings due, to's own he doth design,
And see he comes!—

Enter Charles, Lewis, Momp. and Guard.
Ferd.
'Tis he! stand by me all!
In this great hour shall France or Naples fall.

Charles stops, and views Ferdinand.
Ch.
Ha! my fierce enemy thus left alone,
Aside.
And by wild fortune at my mercy thrown.
Me thinks a braver man I have not seen,
He views his fate, with an undaunted meen;
And with such pride maintains his fatal ground,
As if my Army came to see him Crown'd
Heav'n! That I could recall that fatal breath,
Which rashly swore so brave a Princes death.

Ferd.
Ha! is this he that must enjoy my Throne,
Aside.
Ye Powers! your favours have been well bestown:
Could I have chose the Prince that must invade
My Throne, no other choice I would have made;
Scorning that any Prince less brave then he,
Should e're aspire to be my enemy.

Ch.
King Ferdinand your fate hath been severe,
Through all my Squadrons to conduct you here
With feign'd successes to deride your Sword,
And then no safety to your life afford;
For now you must with speed your Sword resign,
Else as I've won your Crown your life is mine.

Ferd.
My fate in this what I desir'd hath done,
Here I enjoy the conquest I have won,
And here triumph, and whilst I this retain,
Shews his Sword.
Our lives and Crowns on equal terms remain;
But by the care you of my life have shewn,
You seem to doubt the safety of your own.
Glad if I would this dang'rous Sword resign,
Which threats your life, whil'st you are begging mine.

Ch.
King Ferdinand, 'twere more generous to spare
These haughty words to him, who shall forbear
To use his Sword on one he can chastise,
And tread on him, who at his mercy lyes.
Were y'in the head of Armies you should see,
In halfe this time I'de try your gallantry;
But for that high contest your brought too low,
And now say what you will, I'le pity show.

Ferd.
How pity me! whence do's this baseness spring,
To talk of Childish pity to a King?
Kings falls are glorious like the setting Sun,
And Crowns are splendid when they are trampled on;
And since this secret is to thee unknown,
Thou merit'st not the glory of thy own.
And for the blasphemy thy Tongue ha's said,
To revenge Kings I'le snatch it from thy head.

Ch.
Are you some God that you can wonders do?

Ferd.
Can none but Gods the mighty Charles subdue?

Ch.
That humane valour must be strangely great,
Whose single Sword whole armies can defeat.

Ferd.
You'l to the refuge of your Army flye!

Ch.
A King may shun an angry Deity;
But valiant Ferdinand, do not tempt your fate,
Let's find some way to end this high debate:
Princes like you unfortunately brave,
It is my glory to oblige and save.

Ferd.
If you'r inclin'd to end this fatal strife,
And return home in safety, beg your life.

Ch.
I must not this high insolence forgive,
Heav'ns! He'l not suffer me to let him live.
Aside.
A generous pity long has held my hand;
But my wrong'd fame do's now your life demand.
Though 'gainst my glory you have nought to stake,
Yet of these odds I'le no advantage make;
But end the warlike game I have begun,
And for this Crown which I have fairly won.
Here in the face of the whole Kingdom fight,
And till the combates done, disclaim my right.

Asc.
Rather then tribute pay to his renown,
Sir, let us force your passage to the Town.

Ch.
Yes, you shall dye, for I have sworn—
Who e're I find possest of Naples Crown
Shall dye, if of the house of Arragon.
This vow I in my fathers life time made,
When I decreed this Kingdom to invade.
Nay, and this Sword,—
Was then made sacred to the high design
Of rooting out the Arragonian Line,
And now you dye, and dye by none but me,
Out of respect to Kingly dignity.

Ferd.
If you have made that vow
To your dead father, and the Pow'rs above,
Employ your Army lest you perjur'd prove;

Ch.
Let fall your braving Vein, least all that hear,
Suspect y' indeavour to disguise your fear.

Ferd.
My fear!—Wert thou a god I would not bear
So rude a word, and none that mortal are
Shall dare to think it.—

Ch.
Now I find you'r brave;
But after all, mayn't I your friendship have.

Ferd.
Yes, Charles I give it thee, and as to him,
Whom only upon Earth I can esteem:
And if thy Valour dooms me not to live,
I freely shall thy generous Sword forgive,
And dye thy friend, and thank the Heav'ns and thee;
For my brave fate, and braver enemy.

Ch.
Let's with imbraces then my valiant friend,
Begin that friendship which too soon must end.

Lew.
The King too grand excess of honour shews.

Charles and Ferdinand embrace.
Mom.
He doth, but yet I dare not interpose.

Asc.
Can there no way be thought on to unite
These two great rival Monarchs, e're they fight,
Whose sacred bloud that must profusely flow,
Out-values all the Crowns the Earth can shew.

Ch.
Command my Troops some distance to remove:
To Momp.
And let my Guards of Horse surround the Grove,
On pain of death let not a man presume
To interpose, what e're may be my doom
And if my fortune does my fall decree,
Pay him the Loyalty you owe to me.

Lewis and Momp. go out.
Ferd.
With what large Wings his glory takes her flight,
And leaves my fainting honour out of sight.

The two Kings are preparing to fight, and are interrupted by a noise of Arms without, and Mompensier re-enters.
Mom.
Great Sir, a noise of arms from yonder Hill,
Doth all your Squadrons with disorder fill.

Ch.
Hast, meet 'um with my Troops, whilst we conclude,
E're these new fighters on our ground intrude

Enter Lewis in hast.
Lew.
Sir, from the vaults of yonder spreading Wood,
O'th' sudden ope's new Scenes of War and blood,
Their rallyed Troops new courages display,
And demand back the triumphs of the day.
Some th'old revolted General does head;
But the most daring are by Sallerne lead:
He and the General unite their Force,
And break through all your Pikes and Guards of Horse.

Ferd.
Shall I my Crown to slaves and Rebels owe?
Vilains!

Proffers to go out and is staid by Charles.
Ch.
Hold valiant friend! I beg you stay!

Ferd.
Your life's in danger Sir; with this delay.

Ch.
And so is yours, those horrid slaves design,
No doubt, to take your life as well as mine;
For all their rage from desp'ration springs,
And they hate all that bear the name of Kings.

Ferd.
My Sword shall teach 'um what to Kings they owe,

Ch.
Rather that duty to my Troops allow.

Ferd.
Perhaps 'tis more then all your Troops can do,
Rather I'le out, and save your Troops and you.

Ch.
Fear not, my Army can their force withstand.

Ferd.
And I'm their King, and can the slaves command.

Ch.
You may command 'um then, leave me to fight.

Ferd.
You 've had your turn t'oblige, now 'tis my right,
which you in justice ought not to invade.

Ch.
We shall contend till we are both betray'd.

Ferd.
My Sword shall from that danger set you free,
The glory of your deaths design'd for me;
But now your life in honour I'le defend,
Till we with equal fame our high debate shall end.

Exit.
Ch.
End it you shall, for I'le perform my vow;
But Ile not take your life till glories shall allow:
Till then this little friendship I'le receive;
But Ile protect your life, without your leave.
Go aid the King, and cut the Rebels down,
To an Officer.
Then with my Army guard him safe to Town.

Lew.
He may get safe to Town, but Sir I fear
He will but small security find there;
For trembling Naples of your armes afraid,
On their high walls your banners have display'd,
Willing to pay you the allegiance due
To th'Crown of France, and own no King but you.

Ch.
Sir, you mistake, 'tis to my Sword that they
All their submission and allegiance pay.
Those who are rais'd to glorious heights of power,
The Vulgar with implicite faith adore,
Whilst noble spirits oft dispute too late,
And so become the Martyrs of the state.
I'le go receive the Town in my command,
punish the Traytors, and save Ferdinand.
Lest he mistaken to their refuge flye,
And by some base Mechanick Vilane dye.

Exit.
The Scene changes to a Room in the Palace. Enter Julia and Irene.
Jul.
You see how all my follies I declare!
Oh, do not trust 'um to the moving air;
For here I kneel, and vow if e're they'r known,
I'le kil my self, and will the truth disown.

Iren.
Why so, is't such a vile and abject thing,
To love a youthful Conqu'rour, and a King?
'Tis generous love, and shews your courage high,
That you disdain for less then Kings to dye.

Jul.
I but to love a shape, a flying thought,
A dream, an Image in the fancy wrought!

Iren.
'Twas strange indeed! but oh! I long to hear
In what bright shape this vision did appear.

Jul.
'Twas late last night,—
When various noises flew in ev'ry room
Throughout the Palace, crying, Charles is come;
And with the mournful sound of news so bad,
All Eyes were weeping, and all hearts were sad;
I to my apartment went.

Iren.
And so did I
To such misfortunes, who could tears deny?

Jul.
Where for a while contending with my fears,
My Soul o're flow'd with grief, my Eyes with tears,
My Heart with love, my Courage with disdain,
My tongue with pray'rs and vows, my head with pain,
My mind with Charles's Glory and Renown,
Opprest with all these weights, I laid me down,
And listened to a gentle slumbers call,
Which husht the noise, and reconcil'd 'um all.

Iren.
And whether then did gentle sleep entice
Your wandring thoughts?

Jul.
To a fair Paradice
Planted with bright abodes for Heavenly Powers,
Shaded with pleasant Groves, perfum'd with flowers,
Cool'd with soft winds, which gently walk'd the round,
Still dancing to their own Harmonious sound,
And to each Grove and Palace did repair,
And as they danc'd fan'd Odours through the air.

Iren.
From these abodes the shadow did appear?

Jul.
Yes; in a shape too bright for mortal Eyes to bear,
From his fair brows the glories of a Crown,
Like dazling streams of day came flowing down,
To pay their shining tribute to his Eyes,
And then rebounding with more Glory, rise
In his stern looks, beauty and courage strove,
Both threatning War, and yet inviting Love
In all his Stature, Beauty, Garb and Meen,
Something so charming, and divine was seen;
Revelling gods might in those beauties play,
Or dress themselves on some triumphal day.

Iren.
Oh! I am charm'd! Heav'ns I can hear no more,
And did you not the God-like shape adore?

Jul.
In a soft qualme, I fell upon my knees,
Fainting with love and dying by degrees,
My sinking Spirit ready to withdraw;
Which when (me thought!) the Royal shadow saw,
With a soft voice he cryed, see, see, she dyes,
And gently came, and kist my closing Eyes.

Iren.
Oh Heavens! that I could such a vision see,
Or dreaming so, dream to Eternity.

Jul.
Then rais'd with words and kisses so divine,
Me thought he clasp'd his Royal hand in mine,
And in my rapture lead me all along,
O're flowry Greens, and through a Martial throng,
To a fair Temple in a shady Grove,
Where Pilgrims visited the shrines of love,
Without 'twas all beset with shades of night,
Within bespangled with Cœlestial Light,
Me thoughts I sigh'd!

Iren.
But sure you would not wake,
You would not such a pleasant dream forsake.

Jul.
Not till a sacred Priests by his commands,
Had at a Christal Altar joyn'd our hands.

Iren.
Love courted you, disguised in Masquarade;
But yet
How came this Mask within your fancy playd,
Where no Machines of love before were brought,
To move and raise the pleasant Scenes of thought?

Jul.
I had been frail before, I oft had sate,
And heard my sister Isabel relate
The glories of that King:—Had seen his Picture too,
And my heart snatcht new flames at every view:
But see! Euphemia comes, and in her eyes
Enter Euphemia.
Discovers grief, and in her meen surpize.
Ah! thy unhappy Messuage quickly say.

Euph.
Madam undone, the King has lost the day,
And now distrest, and by his foes subdu'd,
is by his own rebellious slaves pursu'd.

Jul.
Oh Heavens! where will my Royal Brother flye!

Euph.
Heaven knows! this cursed City does deny
To save their King, nay, rather are at strife.
Which way they shall dispose his sacred life.

Jul.
Oh cursed Traytors! Oh I faint with fear.

Exit.
Iren.
Be not disturb'd so much at what you hear,
Angels will be his guard:—But see the Queen.
Enter Isabella, Cornelia, Portia, Sylvia
I fear she is preparing to to be gone.

Euph.
All her retinue Madam left the Town
Some hours ago.

Exit.
Iren.
That I had left it to, when first I came,
Or going now could leave behind this flame.

Aside.
Isab.
How, not a Letter not a Message yet,—
Aside.
From the proud King, doth he my name forget?
Unconstant Charles! th'ast made my Honour bleed,
To take thy life were an Heroick deed.

Cor.
The Dutchess highly doth her state resent,
Her Soul is fill'd with haughty discontent.

Isab.
Madam, my grief is troublesome I fear,
I beg your pardon if I leave you here,
My sorrow doth a share on you impose,
And sorrows flatter'd more imperious grows.

Por.
My Princess is disturb'd, and I perceive
For what it is, her swelling heart doth grieve.

Isab.
Portia, the Jewels which from France I brought
And those were sent from thence let 'um be sought.

Exit.
Por.
Madam, they shall.
I thought from whence this mighty grief did spring,
Aside Exit Por.
She do's resent th'unkindness of the King.

Cor.
Now to allay her sorrows she is gone,
I have got freedom to discourse my own.
Ah! Ferdinand how much I pity thee;
And thought my kindness thou shalt never see,
To my own bleeding heaart is sadly known,
Those pains which honour now forbids to own.
Unhappy storm that did me here conveigh,
And sav'd my Fleet, but cast my heart away.

Enter Ferdinand, Ascanio, and Gentlemen with drawn Swords, vizarded, and mufled in their Clokes, at their entrance the King and Ascanio fling off their Clokes and Vizards.
Cor,
But see! the King is here! and in disguize,
All his own Gates afraid of a surprize.
Ascanio discourses with Irene
And now my last and fatal hour is nigh,
Which will my love and all my courage try.

Ferd.
Madam, my fate hath my hard Sentence past,
And now I come to offer up my last
Devotion to the shrine which I adore,
And where perhaps I ne're shall offer more;
For all those glories I am doom'd to loose,
Which might my high aspiring flame excuse:
But now uncrown'd, I must no more pursue
The envyed glory of adoring you.

Cor.
Sir, since you first was pleas'd to talk of love,
You know I all occasions did remove,
From treating wi'you, on a design so vain,
Which I in honour ne're could entertain;
For though as Sovereigns we equals are,
And so you had no reason for despair;
Yet as a Widdow Queen, that lately paid
Her solemn sorrow to the Royal shade
Of her dead Lord, I surely must reprove,
All new addresses of a second love.

Fer.
These forms of sorrow may a while remain;
But shall the dead over the living Reign?
They in the other world their joys receive,
Must we not share in this without their leave?

Cor.
The dead but absent are, and out o' sight,
Shall they for a short absence loose their right?
If to your memory my tears were due,
You would not have me be unjust to you.
But—
'Tis not my temper Sir, this may convince!
T'insult at all o're a dejected Prince.
Puts her Handkerchief before her face.
No, Sir I've found a shelter in your Port,
Respect from you, and honour in your Court.
For which I would in gratitude restore
Your ruin'd fortunes, were it in my power:
But how can she support anothers Throne,
Who is depos'd and banisht from her own?
A distrest Queen, who since the old King died,
Have been too much opprest on every side.
The Egyptian Sultans threating every hour,
T'invade my Kingdom with their mighty power,
And none to guard me from this threatned fate,
But my good fathers; the Venetian state,
Ironice.
Who wisely did adopt me in design,
My falling Crown t'entice me to resign.
Thither I go, forc'd by a fate so rude,
To spend my days in pious solitude.
Then, Sir since I shall never see you more,
May Heaven your Royal family restore.
And that I may a little grateful seem,
You shall not want my prayers, nor my esteem.

Ferd.
Ah Madam! now you shew your generous mind,
You pity most, where most distress you find.
Your timely bounties succour the forlorn,
When all his dying patience was out-worn.
I feel a pleasing extasie of joy,
Which does all present sense of grief destroy.
But ah! how soon will all my pain return,
When I shall think I must for ever mourn?
To air its Wings love takes a soaring flight,
And then must fall in endless shades of night.

Enter a Gentleman in hast.
Gen.
The King! The King! You'r lost Sir if you stay,
The traitrous Rabble will your life betray;
Or else in Chains your Royal person bring
A Present to the new triumphant King.

Fer.
Alas Poor men! It is no news to find
Fear, driving all the Herds of lower mankind;
The timerous Hare will o're the Hunters leap,
When she'as no other way for her escape.
Could there no other means for safety be,
These would betray their God as well as me.

Iren.
And will you have poor wanderers in mind?
No my Ascanio, when the fleeting Wind
Ha's snatcht us hence, my Soul may bid adieu
To this fare Shore, to hopeless love and you.

Asc.
D'ye think I will commit a Crime so great?
Can humble Votaries their Saints forget,
To whose fair Images they hourly pray,
Whose ador'd shrines they visit every day?
My dear, my fairest Saint, to think of thee
Shall all my pleasure and devotion be:
But why should we despair to meet again?

Iren.
Yes, we may meet, but Heav'n knows where or when!

Asc.
Then you may stay behind.

Iren.
And you may go!—

Asc.
What to forsake my King? That were below
The faithful Subject I have ever been.

Iren.
And t'were as bad for me to leave my Queen;
But when I'm gone I shall lament in vain,
Your Heart some happier love will entertain.
I dye to think!—

Asc.
By all that's good I swear!

Iren.
Oh my imperious grief I cannot bear!
New pangs and sorrows do besiege my heart,
Like those of death,—when Soul and Body part.—

Asc.
She swouns!—

She swouns in his Arms.
Ferd.
I now like tortur'd Souls look up with pain,
On joys of Angels which I can't obtain.
They from those Visions fly to deep despair,
And I from joys of love to Bloud and War;—
Aside.
For if from friends I any aid can find,
In some brave death I'le ease my wounded mind.
Come Madam, since my heavy doom is past,—
To Cor.
As men condem'd to Execution hast,
To ease their Souls of weight they cannot bear
Of griefs unknown, which more then death they fear;
So give me leave to hast those joys away,
Which are but torment whilst they vainly stay.
And thus that wealth I to the winds restore
They lent awhile, and ne're will lend me more.

Ex. om.