University of Virginia Library

ACTUS QUINTUS.

A Prison, the Duke.
Du.
Who look's upon this World, and not beyond it,
To the abodes it leads to, must believe it
The bloody Slaughter-house of some Ill Power,
Rather than the contrivance of a Good one.
Ev'ry thing here breeds misery to man,
The Sea breeds Storms to sink him. If he flies
To Shore for Ayd, The Shore breeds Rocks to tear him.
The Earth breeds Briars to rend him, Plants to poyson him,
Beasts of prey to devour him, Trees to hang him;
Those things that seem his Friends, are False to him:
The Air that gives him Breath, gives him Infection.
Meat takes his Health away, and Drink his Reason.
His Reason is so great a bosom plague to him,
He never is so pleas'd as when he's rob'd on't
By Drink or Madness. Reason is an Arrow
Shot in his Head by Nature, to torment him;
And he's in pleasure when Wine rott's the Arrow,
Or the Moon pull's it out. All things conspire
The misery and death of the World's Tyrant;
His Cups are mingled with Sweat, Tears, or Poyson.
Pain keeps both Doors of this cursed World, and hands
The Tyrant in, and doggs him all the way,
And never leaves him 'till she thrusts him out.

Enter the Great Constable,
Const.
Get the Wrack ready.

A Wrack, a Table, Light, Pen and Paper.
Keeper.
'Tis ready.

Const.
Bring my Son out.

Keep.
Here he is,—

Enter the Duke.
Const.
Go leave me with him.—So, Sir, are you here?
Now you'l believe my Principles are true.
Who ever wou'd be vertuous, is a Fool;
For he endeavours to plant Vertue here
In a damn'd world, where it no more will grow
Than Oranges in Lap-land. It is true,
'Twill peere sometimes a little above ground,
But never but in dung of poverty;
And then it smell's so ill, People of Quality
Ne're take it in their Bosom's.

Du.
Very well.

Const.
Nay, the projecting fool that aims at Vertue,
Is a ridiculous Chymist, that wou'd make
A vertuous thing out of a Man or Woman,
Who have not a grain of honesty about 'em;
And they have some parts can never be made honest.
Nay, there is no false fellow like your fool.
Who wou'd be virtuous? for your steady Villain
Who sticks at nothing, is most true to every thing;
But your lame fool who halt's 'tween Vice and Vertue,
Is false to both, and so is true to nothing,
And so has no Friends in Heaven or Hell,
And that's the reason he never thrives.

Du.
Oh! Divine Maximes these!

Const.
Sir, they are true.
Perhaps there never such things as Vertue's,
But only in men's Fancies like the Phenix.
Or if they once have been, they'r now but Names
Of Natures lost, which came into the World,
But cou'd not live nor propagate their kind.
How shou'd they propagate? Your virtuous fellow
Is an Hermophradite, he has two Sexes.
Virtue and Vice, and such a Monster thou art:
To glory thou art a Girle, but to Woman
Thou art a vig'rous Man! Oh! thou poor sinner!
To scorn Ambition, the sin of Angels,
And stoop to be a Goat.

Du.
This Accusation
Ha's no more truth than any of your Maximes.

Const.
Deny it? You do'nt know you shall be Wrack'd?

Du.
Be Wrack'd!

Const.
Be Wrack'd.

Du.
You bring a Bed agreeing
To the fine Lodging you have provided for me.

Const.
It is a Bed the Dauphin has provided you,
Where you must lye, till you confess your Crimes,
Your Treason, and Adultery.

Du.
Do's the Dauphin
Give his fair murder'd Princess this embalming,
To wrap her up in stinking defamation?

Const.
Oh! I shall supple your stiff humour.

Du.
Never.
You'l sooner carve me into a Toad than Lyar.

Const.
Will you talk thus upon the Wrack and Scaffold?

Du.
On both; and more: I will affirm the Dauphin
Wrong'd us, and not we him.

Const.
How?

Du.
This is Truth.

Const.
If this be Truth, then am I finely fool'd.

Du.
I know not that, but I am deeply wrong'd.

Const.
Then so am I, wrong'd, fool'd, deluded, gull'd,
To drink my own Son's blood hot from his Veins,
That I may smell most rank to all mankind,
And have Doggs fly at me where e're I go.
Oh! barb'rous! made to murder my own Son,
A Valiant young man, a wise young man,
An Innocent young man.

Du.
No more, my Lord.
There's alwayes some Venome in your Paint,
You ne're Guilded any but in hopes to Rot 'em,
You never Stroke a Head, but it Fall's off.

Const.
Is it my Heart, or all the City Trembles?
Oh! that some Earthquake now wou'd make all Paris,
Rowle, and o're-lay her Children in their sleep,
Kill all of 'em but this young man and me.
What need I wish for Slaughter? there will be
Enough to night, and let it be for me.

Du.
What doe's he mean now? there is in his breast
A restless, bottomless, black Sea of wickedness,
And I must dive into't— [Aside]
What is your meaning?

Const.
Tis this; Your Troops, the City, the Nobility,
Both out of Love to You, and Hate to Tyranny,
Demand your Life, or clear Proofs of your Crimes,
Else they resolve to fill up with their Swords
The Gap your Death will make for Tyranny
To flow upon 'em; I, who thought you guilty,
Was cheated by these Tyrants, to come hither
And Wrack you into a Lyar, to save them.

Du.
Why did I plunge into his Breast, a Sea
[Aside.
Wou'd make the Devil sick if he flew over it,
And tumble like a Bird that flies o're Jordan?
Oh! how I am confounded?

Const.
Ha! I see
Loyalty strugling in thy noble Nature
For a brave lye to save thy Prince from danger.
Do what thou wilt, for my part, I'le not counsel thee;
'Tis true, you wou'd do well to save your Prince,
For it will breed strange Gangreens all o're France,
To have a Great Man shuffled out of Life,
They can't tell how to please the Dauphin's envy;
And yet, me-thinkes, to save him by acknowledging
Your self a Villain, and the Princess Whore!
Oh! out upon't! I'de let the Kingdom perish
E're I wou'd be a Dog to lick its Sores
With a foule Tongue.

Du.
Oh! How does he distract me?—

Const.
I see that Paper draws thy kind Eye towards it,
Thou hast a mind to be scribling,—take it.
Gives him Paper.
But you must write down all the Circumstances,
How oft, and when, and where, you enjoyed the Princess.
The Duke Tears the Paper.
Ha! You resolve then rather to be torn,
And let the King be torn too, like this Paper.

Du.
Nor that.

Const.
What then?

Du.
I will go Head my Troops.

Const.
Ha! Now thou speak'st indeed? Thou art cast anew
Into the very mettle I wou'd have thee.
Ring out that Bell, that passing Bell of Tyranny.
Proclaim thy Innocence by Trumpet's Sounds,
And with thy Sword and Pike bore all deaf Ears.
If thou must go into another world,
Go like a Gallant man, not creepingly
Like a poor Rogue into a House by night,
Through Grates and Holes will tare thy flesh to Raggs,
And make thy Friends in Heaven asham'd to own thee.

Da.
Which way shall I get hence?

Const.
In my own Chair,
We will go both together out, unknown.
My Chair.

Enter Chair-man with a Chair.
Du.
Will you go with me to the Army?

Const.
No, I'le preserve a certain Friend for thee
In case uncertain Fortune prove thy Enemy.
Go out a while,—

To the Chair-men: who go out.
Du.
I want a Sword.

Const.
Take mine.

The Constable gives the Duke his Sword, who draws it.
Du.
Now know, my Lord, I've once out-witted you,
I've div'd into you, and I find your Plots,
You have stir'd up my Army to Rebellion,
And now you fain wou'd fool me out to Head 'em.

Const.
A Guard there.

Du.
Silence! Or you ne're speak more.
I know the Reverence I ow a Father;
I'le no more violate you than an Altar;
But we may wipe away dirt from an Altar,
And I wou'd free you from this dirty World
In whose foul Womb you labour like a Mole,
And when you'r dragg'd into the Light of Innocence,
You are sick, like things out of their Element.
Since no perswasions then can make you Honest,
Nor keep you Quiet, Locks and Walls shall do it,
Both for my Prince's sake, and for your own.
Into the Chair, so with me to the King.

Const.
Oh! Slave!

Du.
Into the Chair.

Const.
Priest-ridden Slave!
Who all thy insipid Life hast been transfusing
The sheepish thoughts of Priests into thy head,
Dost know no way but what those wooden Hands
Direct thee to.

Du.
Into the Chair.

Const.
I heard
A Lover, once in a Rapture, tell his Mistress
Her Mother fed on Roses; sure when I
Got thee I was confin'd to a milk diet.

Du.
Into the Chair.

Const.
I'le not into the Chair.
Draws a long Tuck out of a Cane.
I am provided for you, Sir; a Guard there.—
Enter a Guard.
Secure this Traytor here, he has disarm'd me
To make escape; Now, Sir, I'le handle you.
Bind him, and get the Wrack prepar'd with speed.
The Guard Bind the Duke.
Oh! thou Fool! Fool! ridiculous, vertuous Fool;
I cannot speak my mind, I shall betray my self.
Thou mightst have been King!

Aside to the Duke.
Du.
A glorious Villain.

Const.
Crown'd on that Scaffold where thy Head shall fall.

Enter one of the Guard.
Gu.
My Lord, the Wounded Princess does desire
Admission to the Duke, she says she has
Some things of Consequence she wou'd reveal.

Const.
They are guilty then? and she is a Strumpet,—
Admit her.—

Enter Louize in a Chair, her Woman helps her out.
Lou.
Oh! My Lord.

Du.
Help her, she faints!
In such fair Ruines Heaven would have lain
If the ill Angels had subdu'd the good.

Lou.
Oh!

Du.
Such a Groan a breaking Sphere wou'd give.

Lou.
My Lord.

Du.
How does my Love?

Lou.
Exceeding ill;
And yet not ill enough for one whose sins
Has brought such ills on you.

Du.
Your Sins?

Lou.
Oh yes!
My Pride and Jealousie did ruine both of us;
'Twas wicked Sacriledge to let hot Rage
Melt down your Golden Image in my mind.

Du.
Your Love, which never wander'd once from me
Where it was born, doe's talk of me as those
Do of their Native Country's who ne're travel'd.
I cannot talk or think too much of you;
The thoughts you Lov'd me once, will make me think my self
Above an Angel, and this sight of you
Make me disrelish all the Heavenly Visions.
I say this openly before the World;
I scorn to tarry till we meet in Death
And whisper it behind the Globe in private.

Du.
Did e're till now two Lovers find such Joys
In the cold barren space between two Worlds?
How do these Pleasures guild the Gates of Death,
Make pleasant Walkes to lead up to the Shades?

Const.
This is the Innocent Pair.

Lou.
Unnatural Tyrant!
My Soul is often comming to my Wound,
And seeing you, start's back, and think's you Hell.

Const.
I find your Wound has much corrupted Blood in't.

Lou.
I faint.

Du.
Oh! help.

Lou.
Farwell, thou Paradise;
I'me driven from thee by a Flaming Sword,
And for the sin of Eve, believing Lyes,
But to a better World than Eve was chas't,
To Heaven! There's one, no doubt: for were there none,
There wou'd be one o' purpose made for you:—

Dyes.
Du.
She's going! She's gone! whilst th'iron Hand
Of Death, broke this fair Diamond in pieces,
What Sparks flew round, each Richer than a World?

Enter the Dauphin.
Daup.
What do I see! Oh! Torment! Torment! Hell!
How durst you suffer this?

Const.
Sir, she desir'd
Admission on pretence she wou'd Confess,
And only came to Dye in his Embraces.

Daup.
Oh! Hot Egyptian Lust! a Lust which burn's
In Damp's of Death, and makes the Grave a Brothel.
Vendosme! You till this Moment, like a Torrent,
Have born me down like a small floating Weed,
But here you shall run under Ground for ever.

Du.
But I shall rise again in Paradise,
Where I shall mixe with this Pure Stream for ever.
But Sir, you take his Life who gave you Yours.

Daup.
Thou give me Life? Yes, as the Crows and Ravens
Give me my Eyes, they dare not pick e'm out.
Thou Buzzard durst not light on me an Eagle,
For thy last Perch thou knew'st wou'd be a Gibbet.

Du.
Sir, I'le boldly tell you more; In me
You fling away the Fortune of the Kingdom.

Daup.
If France's Fortune be so Beggarly,
Then I do well to fling it on a Dunghil.

Du.
The Crown you hope to Heir, hang's on this Arm.

Daup.
I'd scorn to wear a Feather that had hung
On such a Pin.

Du.
That Scorn, a Rod shall Scourge,
Cut from the Cypress that shall shade my Tombe.
Shortly you'l strive to make another me
Out of my Dust, mingled with all my Tears,
And all your Souls: But my proud Dust will flight you.
My loss is nothing but a World, which alwayes
Appear'd to me, a painted treacherous Whore,
That lead's to Hell the Fools and Knaves that love her,
And is a Hell to the Brave Men that scorn her.

Daup.
Sir, for the Satisfaction of the World
You must confess your Crimes.

Du.
You know us Innocent.

Daup.
How dar'st thou tell me this? Dost thou not see
That Wrack there? Ha!—

Du.
Yes, and I see 'tis Wood,
A Limb of some old fallen Son of Earth;
And I will not be made to speak a Falshood
By any Sons of Earth, or Sons of Kings.

Daup.
Intollerable! lead him to the Wrack.

Exit Duke with a Guard.
Const.
You see how faithfully I've serv'd you, Sir.

Daup.
Against your Son.—

Const.
Yes, Sir, I've gone indeed
Against the stream of Nature to serve you.

Daup.
Can I then think thou wilt be true to me?
If thou could'st go so easily to Mischief,
When thou wert shackled with the Chains of Nature,
How swiftly wilt thou run when thou art free?
Know Fool, I've made thee work thy own destruction,
I've thrown thee at thy Son, and made you dash
Each other in pieces like two Earthen Vessels.

Con.
Ha! did you mean by Favours which you promis'd me,
Only to make me Hangman to my Son?

Da.
Princes no more shou'd keep their words with Villains
Than Priests with Hereticks.

Const.
Oh! Horrour! horrour!
I have fed your Revenge with my Blood's Quintessence,
The Blood of him I got in my hot Youth,
And now you break your League, and seek my Life.

Daup.
I scorn thy wither'd Life, let it drop from thee,
Thy wickedness can do no further Mischief,
Except it work Confusion in the Heavens,
And make the Sun with horrour hide his Head.
But Nature now is us'd to barbrous deeds,
They do not scare her into dire Miscarriages,
Nor make her Womb conceive unshapen Prodigies:
Now thou maist eat thy Son, the Prince of Day
Is hardy grown, and will not faint and look
As girlish as he did at Atreus Feast.
Perhaps that Eye of Day is dimme with Age,
Then live, but live in quiet.—

Guard secure him.
Const.
Oh! Ruine! Death! I've torn my Bowels out
To hoyse my self into this Tyrants Favour,
And I've only made my Fall more deadly.
Hoys'd did I call it? rather, then I fell,
When I became a Man, to be a Great One,
Became a Dog to wear a Silver Collar.
I am a Dog, and I am running mad
With drinking the hot Blood of my own Young.

Daup.
Ha! What mean's this?

An Alarm. Enter Brisac.
Brisac.
The Duke of Vendosm's Troops.
Are by our treacherous Guards let in upon us;
That, Sir, you have no safety but in Flight.

Daup.
Oh Villaines!

Const.
Oh! most seasonable Rogues!

Daup.
Oh Villaines!

Const.
Oh! most seasonable Rogues!

Daup.
I'le fall on 'em be the event what it will.
That Prince who fear's deserves not to be fear'd,
Nor to be greater than that Man who dares
Do greater things than he. Secure that Traytor.

Exit.
Enter the Great Constable, La Force, young Captains; the Dauphin, and Brisac Prisoners.
Const.
Oh! you brave Heroe's, greater each than Brutus,
He but repair'd, you build your Country's Freedom:
Till now, a Frenchman, scarce deserv'd to come
Into the presence of a Roman Statue.

La Ma.
I find the Constable will be the man,
[Aside.
I am resolved I will chop in with him.
My Lord, I beg your pardon for past Errours,
I find the Court has injur'd both of us:
I'le gladly serve you with my Life and Fortune
If youl accept of 'em.

Const.
In my condition
I shall have great occasion for a Rascal,
Therefore I will accept thee.

La Ma.
I will serve you.

Exit.
1. Capt.
Where is the Duke?

Const.
Ay! there's the question,
Here in this slaughter-house is a torn Wrecth,
Some say is he; his Father know's him not.

All.
How? a torn Wretch?

Const.
Ah! Sirs, cou'd you collect
In one dire figure all the ghastly Horrours
E're cover'd Field, after the bloodiest Battel,
When one vast paleness spreads the Earth's green Table,
And Faces folded up in different Grinnes,
With barbarous Ornament adorn it round,
And Bodies pil'd prepare a gluttonous Feast
For Birds and Beasts of prey, it wou'd not be
So terrible a fight as this I shew you.

The Scene drawn, The Duke is shew'd wrack't, Louize dead by him.
All.
Oh! Horrour! Fire the Louvre!

La For.
Proclaim Liberty;
Freedom is born, Christen it with Tyrant's blood.

Du.
Hold! I command you, hold.

La For.
What's your will?

Du.
My will is you refine, and turn Barbarians!
What Savage Nation in the World, retains not
In the disfigured mass of Humane Nature
Reverence to Princes? If it be too hard
To be as polish't as Barbarians,
Be but as good and honest as tame Beasts,
They're gentle and submissive to their Masters;
But if you will be Men, Subjects, and Souldiers,
Fall at your Prince's Feet, and ask him pardon,
Or throw me dead at yours, do one of 'em,
Or in small time, I'le throw you dead at mine,
For I have loyal Troops that will obey me.

Const.
His pains distract him.

La For.
What do you mean, my Lord?
You have had great Injuries.

Du.
What's that to you?
But I've had none: My present sufferings
Are what appearances gave warrant for.

1. Capt.
You are wrong'd,
And do not rob your self of just Revenge.

Du.
Nor shall you all here rob me of my Honour,
Though like base Thieves you watch your opportunity
When I am all o' fire, and laid in Ruines.

Const.
He's mad! stark raving mad, Sir's do not mind him.

Du.
Ho! Guard! convey me to my loyal Troops,
Those shall obey me, imprison me, or kill me.

All.
We kneel, we kneel! We beg your Highness pardon.

Du.
Now seize my Father.—

All kneel to the Dauphin.
Daup.
Was e're Man so Brave?—

Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
The King is coming hither.

Du.
Meet him all,
And fall at his Feet.

The Dauphin, Brisac, and the Captains go out, Shouts within. After a pawse all re-enter, following the King.
K.
The Truth appears too late! Oh! thou rash youth!
Thou hast destroy'd the joys of both our Lives,
A noble innocent Pair! for they are Innocent!
Bring in the Traytress who destroyd 'em both.

Enter some with La Guard.
La Gu.
Oh! Bloud! Bloud follow's me, I'le confess all,
And beg for Death, no Hell like a bad Conscience.
The Princess was contracted to the Duke
Long e're the Dauphin lov'd her.

Daup.
How? Contracted?

La Gu.
Yes Sir; but e're they cou'd compleat the Marriage,
You sent away the Duke, to ayd the Germans
Against the Turks, in the mean while your Passion
For her began; the Constable perceiving it,
Hoping to draw the Duke from his Allegiance,
Knowing that no Temptation else cou'd do it,
Brib'd me, and others, wicked as my self,
To aid him, in obtaining her for You.
We counterfeited the Duke's Hand exactly,
And wrote in it provoking Letters to her,
Then we invented Lyes of the Duke's falshood,
And by these Arts so turn'd her haughty mind,
That she soon hated him, and lov'd your Highness.
When this was done, the Constable compell'd me
To lay his tricks and forgeries on you.
Then went and kindled a fierce jealousy in you,
And brought you on th'unhappy innocent pair,
When they were only mourning for their wrongs.

Daup.
O! horrid! horrid!

Const.
Oh! notorious falshood!

La Gu.
The truth shall out, Sir, the vile Constable
Lodg'd all these villainous Secrets in my Bosom.

K.
Was ever such a Villain?

Const.
Every Man.
Is such a Villain, who is not a Fool.
Had that damn'd Sot been Lord of half my wit,
He had this hour been Lord of all the Kingdom.
To shew the difference in our Understandings,
Mine wou'd have made him King, his noble Wit
Has made himself a very gallant Fellow.

Pointing scornfully to the Duke.
K.
No, thy unnatural Villany wrought this.

Const.
I own I twisted all those various Cables.
To drag that lump of Lead up to a Throne,
And he has broke 'em all. Indeed there is
Too much already of that drossy Metal
Over the State; the Church is always cover'd with it,
And I design'd to melt it down, and place
On top of Church and State rich Gold, my self;
But dragging him up with me, broke my Pullies.

K.
Impudent arrogance!

Const.
A Corpse, they say,
Carried to Sea, does always breed a Storm.
I wafting this dead Fool o're to a Kingdom,
Have shipwrack'd all the Glories I was laden with.

K.
Away with him.

Du.
Pray give him, Sir, his Life,

Const.
How? hast thou thrown me on hooks, as Turks do slaves?
Then would'st thou have me hang alive in torments?
No, I will rather have my Limbs feed Crows,
Then poorly live to be the scorn of Fools.
For a wise Man the Image of a God,
To creep to Fools, scarce Images of Men;
I'le as soon worship golden Calves with Jews,
Or with the Sumatrans a Monkeys Tooth.
My Glory, that ha's kept me ever waking,
Is out, now send me t'eternal darkness.
And young man, do you pray, pray heartily,
Be sure you get to Heaven, for if your piety
Shou'd crack, and let you fall to Hell where I am,
I'le plague you worse than all the Devils there.

[Ex.
K.
What a black Demon had I ne're my Throne?

Enter La Marre.
La Ma.
Now will I fix my self.
The Constable a Prisoner!

Daup.
Seize that fellow.
You shall be hang'd, Sir.

La Ma.
Oh! Sir.

Daup.
Yes, Sirrah, you are a great Rogue.

La Ma.
You wou'd not hang me were I a great Rogue.
Well 'tis as foolish to play Villany
As Money, with a Man of a great Stock,
He can throw out and out, and still play on,
We once throw out, we are thrown to the Devil,
Whither they come at last, for when all's done
The Devil's Box get's all.

Daup.
My poor Louize.

K.
Noble Youth!
Hast thou had such great wrongs; yet give my Son
His Life, and me my Crown?

Du.
Princes are sacred,
What e're Religion Rebels may pretend,
Murderers of Kings are Worshippers of Devils,
For none but Devils are worshipt by such Sacrifices.
They who derive all Power from the People,
Do basely basterdise it with that Buckler
Which fell from Heaven to protect Innocence.
They protect Villany; No sacrilege
Greater, then when a Rebel with his Sword
Dare's cut the hand of Heaven from King's Commissions,
To hide the Devil's mark upon his own.
I lifted up my Arm against the Dauphin,
It ought to have dy'd and rotted in the Air.

Daup.
I fully pardon you.

Du.
Then I dye joyfully.

K.
Talk'st thou of Dying?

Du.
I received two Wounds
In the last Battle, Sir, upon my Breast,
Which now are torn far into Deaths Dominions.

The Duke shews his Breast bloody.
K.
Oh! miserable Sight!

Da.
Oh! blasting Sight!

K.
Here falls a Pharaoh's Tower, Ephesian Temple,
The Cost of Ages, Wonder of Eternity.

Duke.
You guild a vanishing Shadow.—
May I have leave, Sir,—
To the Dauphin.
To sleep in Death by her who was your Princess?
But in the Grave there's no Propriety,
In Death's dark ruinous Empire all lye's waste.

Daup.
You shall have that, and all befitting Honours.

Duke.
Then come cold Bride to my as cold Embrace,
The Grave's our Bed, and Death our Bridal Night,
None will disturb, or envy our Delight.—

Ex.