University of Virginia Library

ACTUS PRIMUS.

[Scene I.

The King's Camp near Mora.]
A hott Alarum.
Enter hastily att severall Doores Monasin, Filadin, Cratoner, with their swords drawne.
Fil.
All's lost! The very Guards the danger shun,
As fast as to itt Honour bids them run.
Feare has soe blinded them, they doe not see
Their ruine or, what's worse, their Infamie.

Crat.
If all bee lost, then lett us rob the foe
Of the full glory of their overthrow
By killing of our selves.

Mon.
They then will say
Despaire, nott Honour, taught us that bold way.
Lett's therefore shew that all the Rebells powers,
Had they bin fac't by a few swords like our's,
Had found their Triumph would soe dearly cost
That itt had rather caus'd their greif than boast.

Enter Thrasolin.
Thras.
What meanes this rage, that sitts on every brow,
And why in such a threatning posture now?

Mon.
Can Thrasolin aske that, yett know and heare
Soe many dangers certaine are and neare,
That now wee doe nott on our Reasons call
Which to avoide, but noblest where to fall?

Fil.
'Tis but the Sinne of Fortune if wee dye,
But, Thrasolin, 'tis our Sinne if wee fly.

Thras.
If this the bussinesse is, then on my word
Each of you may with safety sheath his sword;
For you will find, when these dissorders end,
They came not from a foe, but from a freind.

Mon.
Who then cou'd in our campe such things performe,
Or rather say what furie raisd this storme,
A storme soe black and horrid I may well
Say, 'tis not like, but 'tis it selfe a Hell?

Thras.
Your absence kept till now my plott untold.
Therefore its rise and Progresse I'll unfold.
It is not sure to any here unknowne
Melizer shou'd by right possesse the throne.
Nor is't lesse true, that man who rules us now
Is both a Tirant and usurper too,
For when Evender withe fight did fall,
The Monster was the Armies Generall,
And when the Royall Melizer hee shou'd
Have Crown'd as being first Prince of the bloud,
Hee seiz'd on him, and by his boundlesse pow'r
Made him close prisoner in the fatall Tower,
Where still our lawfull king hee has deteyn'd;
But, finding how men murmur'd that hee reign'd,
The better to excuse all that was past,
Declar'd his only sonne, young Altimast,
Shou'd marry our faire princesse Rosocleere,
Who is to our true king th'undoubted heire.
But, when th'appointed wedding day drew neere,
Wee noe more news of Altimast cou'd here.

Fil.
After which sin, hee in a worse did fall,
Forcing away our noble Generall.

Mon.
And some do say the Tyrant's cause of Hate
Was on the score of Love as much as state;
For, though hee be on his declineing age,
Yet Altemera did his heart Engage,
Whose Charming beautie, as 'tis knowne by all,
Has been ador'd long by our Generall.

Crat.
Who can such needlesse talke as this Endure?
Wee knowe our ills, but long to know the Cure.

Thras.
Know then that I, beleiving nothing might
To our wrong'd King sooner restore his right
Than calling Clorimun, our Generall, back,
'Twas I this night did this disorder make.
I let the souldiers knowe that hee must die,
Unlesse they sav'd him by a mutiny,
Which fiction for a truth amongst them went.
With teares his danger they did first lament;
Then, from small numbers grew a mighty croud,
And then, from Whispering grew to talking loud;
Marching directly to the Tyrants tent,
Demanded Clorimun from bannishment.

Fil.
Then all those troubles did this night befall
Is but to bring us back our Generall?

Crat.
I to their party am already gott.
The End is Noble though the way bee nott.

Thras.
Yett 'twas the fittest way wc h I could choose;
For wc h successe must bee my best Excuse.
Besides, in this great businesse I was loath
That ought butt Tumult should have given itt growth.
All formall plotts I therfore did decline,
And made that looke like chance wc h was Designe.

Mon.
The Tyrant this affront will never brooke:
Butt tell us, Thrasolin, how does hee looke?

Thras.
Perplex't as is the Campe, his Reason heere
Serves nott to silence, butt augment his feare.
Sometimes hee thinkes, the Rebells being nigh,
That wee and they are in Confederacy.
Then straight hee thinkes, from honour or from spight,
Wee scorne our selves, butt by our selves to right.

A Great Cry within, And “Clorimun for our Generall” often repeated. Enter Kinge and Gesippus.
Thras.
Butt who are those wc h yonder now appeare?
Soft! 'Tis the Tyrant fill'd with rage and feare.

King.
Oh Gentlemen, lett itt bee never knowne,
You spend the time in Consultation,
When such is the insulting souldiers rage,
'Tis blood, nott words, their fury must asswage.

Thras.
If blood their fatall fury had nott fed,
It had bin, sir, as soone as kindled, dead;
For each of us has spilt with his owne hand
What well might satisfie for all the Land,
Though every part of itt had bin as bad
As this tumultuous night the Campe has made;
Which to their rage has added such a growth,
They say that wee are judge and partie both.

Fil.
And, sir, they now are ready to pursue
Their mutiny, with yor dire Murther too.

Mon.
Which, if perform'd, Rebellion in short time
Will prove as much their interest as crime.

Ges.
These Gentlemen, to whome you lend your eare,
Speake the Results of Reason, nott of feare.
The Fitt in my opinion is too high
Now to prescribe a daring Remedy.

The Cry continued.
Thras.
You cannott, Sr, a Middle Councell choose.
The Army now will take if you refuse,
And if their strength they once but understand,
'Twill teach them from obeying to Command.
In your resolving be not, sr, soe sloe,
For the more forc'd th'action then will show.
To yeild at last, and yet at first to strive,
Show's them 'tis they that take, not you that give.
You may retire to Leptis which is nigh,
And is a place of strength and Loyaltie.
When you are once out of the Souldiers powers,
They must in consequence be soone in yours.

King.
This Councell, which on mee you all bestowe,
I must confesse is wise, but then 'tis low;
And hee a Crowne does not deserve to weare,
Who, whilst hee has it on, admitts of feare.

Ges.
This Resolution, which soe much you prize,
As, sr, it is not low, soe 'tis not wise.
Permitt mee, sr, to say your Courage here,
As the case stands, will like dispaire appeare.

Fil.
Besides, what they for Clorimun pretend,
May bee their maske, and a worse thinge their End.
The Rebells forces are a mighty power,
And hourely looke for their brave Lucidor.
Memnor and Clatus and more men of name
Are now amongst them, waiting butt for fame.

Ges.
When e're you please, sr, Doubtlesse you may doe
What yor resentments now would drive you too.
And yor retirement may bee made appeare
To springe from yor Contempt, nott from yor feare.
What greater ill can on yor Army fall
Than to want you to bee their Generall?

King.
Well, for this time, what you advise, I'le doe.
Goe, Thrasolin, and lett the Army know
I grant them their Request, for now they shall
Possesse agen their long'd for Generall.
But stay: for what if Clorimun should, now
That fortune smiles, show her an angry brow?

Thras.
If nor his King, nor Country, cou'd invite
His Conquering Sword now to defend their right,
Yett Altemera's love soe fills his brest,
'Twill force him from his solitude and rest,
And make him Court againe the Worlds applause
By acting thinges transcendent as their Cause.

King.
You then, to whom his heart soe well is knowne,
Shall carry to him his Commission:
Tell him from mee, wou'd hee cast off his pride
And guide himself, as hee can Armies guide;
Or could hee but attaine att length to this,
To show his passion butt his subject is,
There's none who beares that name shou'd have in mee
Soe just and high an interest as hee.
Gesippus, come! to Leptis wee'le retire,
There waite th'effects of granting your Desire.

Thras.
Permitt us as yor Guards to waite on you,
For none can tell what men enrag'd may doe.

King.
I more than they shou'd then bee in the blame.
My guards shall bee my courage and my fame,
For if they saw with other Guards I went,
'Twould make that looke like feare, which is Contempt.
Yett, Gentlemen, yor care therin I see,
Which, e're longe, I'le nott faile to gratifie.

[Exeunt King and Gesippus.
Thras.
Well, my good friends, what thinke you of my lye,
And of my plott, and of my mutinie?

Fil.
That all are virtuous, I most freely grant,
For nought is virtue wc h successe does want.

Crat.
Well, 'tis an even lay that most of those
Whom to this mutinie thou did'st dispose,
Will suffer death or else some torturing paine,
And thou, for itt, will high rewards obtaine.

Mon.
An Even lay! I thought thee wiser growne!
The wager is att lowest, two to one.
For those two powers who governe all mankinde,
Fortune and Justice, both of them are blinde.

Fil.
Our fooling for a while lett's throw away.
This is a time of earnest, nott of play.

Thras.
My grave and prudent lookes I'le now Command,
For souldiers see better than understand;
I'de rather farre, when I the businesse breake,
Butt wisely looke than only wisely speake.

[Exeunt.

[Scene II.

A Chamber in Altemera's Palace at Mora.]
Enter Lucidor and a page.
Luc.
Goe, tell Candaces that I begge I may
My parting Sighthes to Altemera pay.
Then lett all thinges bee soe prepar'd to night,
That I may leave the Towne by dawne of Light.
[Exit Page.
[Walkes in great distemper.
How can that heart wc h does her image beare
Admitt of ought soe nigh to sin as feare?
If butt the thought of absence bee such paine,
How can I then th'enduring itt sustaine?
Death I have seene a thousand times and more,
Butt never knew what trembling was before;
Which proves my parting is an ill more high
Than, ere shee lov'd, I thought itt was to die.
Enter Altemera and Candaces.
Can you forgive mee, Madam, that I thus
Present you sorrows soe infectious?

Alt.
I can forgive you all thinges, I declare,
Butt leaving mee, and leaving mee for warre,
For which soe little Argument I finde,
My reason makes that sin the more unkinde.

Luc.
You see my greifs such deepe impressions give,
'Tis better under them to die than live.
Else you cou'd never soe unkinde have bin
As thus to call my punishment, my sin,
Nor to those sorrowes under which I groane,
Could you have thought itt fitt to adde yor owne.

Alt.
'Tis only you have yor owne troubles wrought,
For they, alas! are not impos'd, butt sought.
If you desire to shun them, what I say
Might move you now to cast them all away.
Did you butt creditt what you still professe,—
That I alone can make yor happinesse,—
You wou'd nott yor obedience thus decline,
Butt end by paying itt, yor greifs and mine.

Luc.
Ah, Madam, with what face cou'd I possesse
The most exalted of all happinesse,
And nott in every way of honour strive
To show that I would meritt what you give?
Butt were my Laurells as my myrtells are,
Had I all glories found in peace or warre,
All were as short of meritt, I would vow,
As by yor Love I am above itt now.
Yet, I confesse, I cannott butt designe
To show my failings are fates sins, nott mine.

Alt.
This proves the truth of what I said before:
Though you love mee, yett you love glory more;
Butt Lucidor, your's is nott neere to me
Of soe great value, as yor Company;
And, sure, if mine were butt to you as deare,
You wou'd nott, to Court glory, leave mee heere.

Luc.
Leave you for glory! witnesse, yee blest powers!
My only glory is that I am your's.
And from this warre I hope for this reward,—
Against the Tyrants Lust, to bee yor Guard.
You are soe good, hee ill in such excesse,
'Twere sin to doubt my safety or successe.

Alt.
Yett when I thinke how many dangers are
Waiting for forward courages in warre,
Sorrow invades mee soe, I must confesse,
My reason makes them rather more than lesse.

Luc.
Hee, Madam, that is destin'd unto you,
Must needes bee destin'd unto Triumphes too.
The Justice of the Gods is sure too high
Yor care to give mee, and their owne deny.
I have yor Love, and in yor Quarrell fight:
That makes itt duty, this makes itt delight.
In yor just Cause all dangers I despise.
My Sword shall bee resistlesse as yor Eyes.

Alt.
Since you will hold yor Resolution,
This Comfort yett will stay when you are gone,
For by itt this great Truth will clearer shine,—
Yor want of kindenesse cannot lessen mine.
Yett how you love my life, lett itt be showne
In being carefull to preserve yor owne.
My eyes, I hope, are kinder than my words,
For greife to these a passage scarce affords:
And yett I should not mourne my sorrow growes;
Words cannott speake soe much as silence does.

Luc.
What is't can bringe poor Lucidor releif,
When even yor kindnesse, Madam, makes his greif?

[Exeunt.

[Scene III.

The Rebels' Camp near Mora.]
Enter Memnor and Clatus.
Mem.
The cause of yor dispute you may decline,
'Tis enough hee's yor foe to make him mine;
But will hee sure bee heere to morrow night?

Clat.
As sure as that next day I'le with him fight.
Butt I'le relate our Quarrell in one word,
That you may see 'tis worthy of yor sword.
After some strife 'twixt Lucidor and I,
Whose Coulers in the Feild should formost flye—

Mem.
Hold, Clatus, pray! for if yor Quarrell bee
Well grounded, you're the lesse oblig'd to mee;
And if an unjust Quarrell you pursue,
Then I am much the less oblig'd to you.
The story cannott more my friendshippe binde,
And you by telling itt may change my minde.

Clat.
How I mistooke! in mee some feares itt bred,
Since Lucidor yor sister is to wedd,
You wou'd nott butt with difficulty bee
Engag'd to serve as second now to mee.

Mem.
If, my good friend, yor Quarrell should bee found
Built, as yor feares, on a mistaken ground,
Lett's mend it by good fighting, which has ty'd,
Often ere now, successe to the wrong side.
But that I may be better understood,
Knowe freindshipp is a greater tye than blood.
A sister is a name must not contend
With the more high and sacred name of freind.
That but to mee my mothers word makes knowne,
But I, for this, need but to take my owne.
Come! name the time and place. I long to try,
By vallour's doome, whose Collours first shall fly.

Clat.
The place shall be betwixt the Grove and Cell
Where the late pious Anchorite did dwell.
The time, my Memnor, I desire might bee
As soone as wee can our swords length but see.

Mem.
Spoke like one fitt to fight with Lucidor,
For honour should be won at every houre,
And hee must sure deserve her favours best
Who does solicite them the earliest.
Bee sure that too much sleepe thou dost not take.

Clat.
That Complement shall make mee earlier wake.

[Exeunt.

[Scene IV.

A Hermit's Cell near the King's Camp.]
Enter Clorimun and Thrasolin.
Clor.
Move mee no more, I say. The world to mee
Is now, what still to wise men it should bee;
And to relapses nothing can mee winn.
I hate it now, as virtuous men hate sinne.

Thras.
Come! to this Cell a noble farewell give,
Where mallancholly buries you alive.
Then Cloath your selfe with Armour, and you'l see
Your old and great attendant, Victory,
Did never yet soe much to fortune owe,
As in this Warre inconstancy to showe.

Clor.
The Victory! I'le tell thee, Thrasolin,
I'de rather conquest on my Passions winn,
Than from my Cell one houre my selfe dispose
To winn a Conquest over all my foes.

Thras.
Alasse! deare Generall, from whence proceeds
This strange aversion to heroick deeds?
Have you for soe long time on Glory fedd,
That you on it at length have surfeited?
Or doe you think it is its utmost rise
Thus to have power all Glory to despise?
If none of these, then your assistance bring,
And save your sinking country and your King.

Clor.
Hee's an usurper whome for King you owne.

Thras.
I call him King, because hee fills the Throne.

Clor.
Hee's an ungratefull man, and you well knowe
'Tis not his Love, but feare, which courts mee now.
When I at Leptis his sunck hopes did raise,
And such things did, he vow'd excell'd his praise,
And by those actings that peace to him brought
With fame, wc h else hee wou'd with gold have bought,
Yet hee—

Thras.
Noe more! Denying you your due,
Hee wrong'd him selfe more than hee iniur'd you.
But if for him you will not undertake
This Warre, yet doe it for your Countries sake,
Your sinking country which on you does call,
Who wee are certaine can prevent our fall.

Clor.
Thou talk'st as if I govern'd destiny,
When that does governe Monarchyes as mee.
Those stormes it sends but as a frightning ill,
May be o'recome by Courage and by skill,
But if to act our ruine fate thinks fitt,
Wee then forsake the helme, and must submitt.
Kingdomes, like private lives, have periods sett,
And when Heaven calls, who can deny the debt?

Thras.
Grant this, and that our fatall time were come,
Wou'd Clorimun outlive his Countries doome?

Clor.
Why not? Because I cannot still enjoy
That which I love, must I my selfe destroy?

Thras.
Yet if death Altemera shou'd destroy,
You wou'd not after long your selfe enjoy.

Clor.
Ha, Altemera! the sound of that name
Makes burne afresh my high successlesse flame,
A flame o're which deaths Coldnesse cannot reigne,
Since it outbraves still her most cold disdaine.

Thras.
Can you reflect on her and yet not doe
What honour, and revenge invites you too?
Your Rivall in this Warre will growe so great,
Her love to him will not be guift, but debt.

Clor.
I will to Lucidor a Rivall prove
Greater in fame, than hee's to me in Love.

Thras.
«Now it beginns to worke.»

Clor.
Then, for my sake,
Glory my cause in Love shall undertake,
Whose pleading for mee shall be soe sublime,
It shall say more for mee, than love for him.

Thras.
Will you yet take what the King offers you?
Love makes you speake, but power will make you doe.

Clor.
Then I will make, that I may reach my end,
Love, now the tyrant of my peace, my freind.
I'le Court him, soe that I'le his favour find,
Unlesse hee be much more unjust than blind.

Thras.
Your thoughts, alasse! drive you you know not where.

Clor.
And, which is more by much, I do not care!
For my ill fate in such a way does strike,
All miseries to mee are much alike.

Thras.
Then thinke on Love and Honour, and these may
To the right side the doubtfull Ballance sway,
And with your wreaths of Lawrells Mirtle mix.

Clor.
Come, freind! walke in; on something there I'le fix.
Why was not reason, by decree of Heaven,
To man for his Internall Monarch given?
Our passions over itt the Conquest gett,
And, as they please, they Cloud and governe it.
Love, Honour, and Revenge by turnes beare sway,
And all Command what they should all obey.

[Exeunt.