University of Virginia Library

ACT 5.

SCENE I.

Enter D'elpech, La'march, Surgeon.
D'elp.
But are there no hopes left?

Surg.
None, but in Miracles, his Liver is quite pierc'd.
And 'tis a wonder he has not bled to death already.

D'elp.
But that is stopt?

Surg.
Stop't, alas, Sir,
To give him time enough to say a Pray'r or two;
He cannot last an hour.

La'mar.
Trust me, I am much griev'd.

D'elp.
And so am I, he was a worthy brave Gentleman,
Come, lets go take our last farewel.

[Exeunt.
Brisac laid in his Bed, D'orvile, Beaupres, Bellmont, Charlotte, D'elpech, La'mar.
D'or.
How is it, Sir?

Bris.
The Surgeon best can tell.

D'or.
May we not learn the full of all this business?

Bris.
A difference I had with the General,
What would you learn more,
Pray, Sir, retire, and take the Company with you,
I'm weak, and have some business
I fain would end before I go.

D'or.
Religion does forbid that we should trouble you,
Heaven grant your Pray'rs, and make ye happy, Sir.

Bris.
I thank you, Sir! Nay, friend Beaupres, stay you here;
And you, Sister, do not leave the room,
Governour, may I entreat the presence of your Daughter?
'Twill be my last request.

D'or.
Most willingly! Charlotte, stay you here.
[Exit D'or.

Bris.
Adieu dear friend, I shall not see you more!

La'Ma.
May all your hopes prove prosperous,
I cannot endure to stay and see you thus!
[Exit La March.

D'elp.
And I must leave you like a Girle,
Blind with my tears:
I wish I could but do you better service.
[Exit D'elpech.

Bris.
'Tis now too late, and yet I thank you for your wish.

Beau.
O Heav'ns, must we then part,
Curse on my hand, it was too slow.

Bris.
Blame not a thing that did so much;
Alas, we were all born to die:
And if we do anticipate the time
That bearded Elders languish in, we scape
A thousand miseries that they have surely stoop'd to.
Death is a bug-bear never fear'd when known:
Weep not, dear Sister, I will leave you one
Shall be a Brother, and a kind one to you:
Will you not, Beaupres?

Beau.
You cannot doubt my love to all that's yours;
But I will not dissemble now the tie
I have upon me, to be ever kind.
Shall I have your pardon?
I would have told it you er'e long,
But hop'd for better opportunity
Then the sad Fates allow me now:

Bris.
What e're it be, I do forgive thee freely,
For I dare sooner doubt my being happy,
Then that thou e're didst wrong me in thy friendship,

Beau.
I am her husband, Sir.

Bris.
That merits more my thanks then blame,
For it was to thy dear Arms I would bequeath her.

Bell.
Heav'n meant me nor so great a blessing
To have you living, and this bounteous gift.

Bris.
I give her to thee, friend, with all my heart,
Use her well for her poor Brothers sake;
And, Sister, be you still to him
Such, as may make him in you love his friend,
His poor departed friend:
So, I hope you two are happy;
Now to my Love, and then I die in quiet.

Bell.
Speak not of dying, Sir, it wounds my soul.

Bris.
Ha, what means that Lady, Sister?
She weeps, she weeps.
O, if those tears be but for my misfortune,
I will not envy Emperours that live;
But think it greater glory thus to die,
Piti'd by the beauteous good Charlotte.

Bell.
You are not only piti'd but belov'd,
Beyond all what the world contains besides.

Bris.
Mock not my hopes, 'twere double death
[She kneels by him.
If now I should but find it otherwise.

Char.
May I then be believ'd? O my Stars!
Is this the good you have ordain'd me?
Shew me such worth,
To tell me what I've lost.

Bris.
I know to leave this world is death,
But I leave more when I leave thee;
What heaven can I expect hereafter?
When all the Idea I can e're receive
Of happiness, I here do leave behind me;
Will you be kind unto my memory,
My dear Charlotte!
And when your thoughts do entertain themselves
Of me your servant being gone,
Remember then, Pray remember often;
How much your poor Brisac did love you!

Char.
You speak as if I did intend to leave you,
No, my Brisac, I will not long out-live you.

Bris.
O yes! I do conjure you live,
By all our Love, and then I shall live in you:
For how should I be curst of all the world,
If I deprive it of its chiefest Jewel:
My soul shall wait upon you here;
My mind does tell me I shall bear that Office;
(For I am penitent for all my sins)
And that will be a glorious station,
More then I e're durst hope for;
But that I guess I have your wishes for't.

Char.
We'll hand in hand unto the other world,
And there confirm the union of our souls,
Then 'twill immortal be and we sha'nt need
To fear a fatal separation.

Beau.
Deny us not, fair Maid, thy company,
We all must die, and be, I hope,
Together happy in the other world.

Bris.
It is not fit any of you should die;
For when you'r gone,
The world will be neglected, and not own
A Subject worth a care;
You shall not think of leaving one another;
Dear friend, would you thus leave alone
My dearest Mistress, and your poor Bellmont;
Charlotte in you may see what I have lov'd?
And in her friendship to you think on me.

Char.
Whilst memory retains a place,
Or life but motion giveth to my heart;
Each breath I draw, and every bow I make,
Shall be for my Brisac:
The organs of my soul shall frame no sound,
But what shall eccho still my dear Brisac;
Master of all my hopes and all my joy:
Poor fickle joy, alas, how soon thou leav'st me?
Never, O never, to return again!

Bris.
And you, dear friend, when you shall see that face,
That much adored person I have lov'd,
Pay her the zeal of all your friendship to me;
And, Sister, as you ever did affect
Your Brother, turn that kindnesse all
To my Charlotte, and to Beaupres your duty.

[Enter Malig:
Beau.
Your Major, Sir, is come to take his leave.

Malig.
Heavens bless my Colonel! how is't, Sir?

Bris.
O Beaupres, come hither, I had forgot to tell you;
But I grow wondrous faint;
Have a care of Maligni.
Oh Charlotte, your hand, for I am going;
Farewell, farewel; I can no more.

[Dies,
Beau.
Farewel the thoughts of worldly things;
What are the Pomps of greatest Kings?
But empty titles State foreshew,
Idols, we make, to which we bow;
Nothing that's certain here below,
But death; and certain that we know
How glorious is the fabrick, when,
Ill to the Maker likens men;
But this the cleerest ever was,
Retain'd the brittleness of glass.

Bell.
Through which we ought to see how fair
Are Blisses that eternal are;
Led by perswasion of our blood,
We here expect a certain good,
And frame our best of what is worst!
Since by great Heav'n the earth we curst.

Char.
My thoughts to Heav'n their wishes send;
And to Heav'ns will in reverence bend;
Leave tempting me thou dismal care,
Mistress of ruine and despair;
The strings of my poor heart, I'm sure,
Are not so strong they can endure
This cruel weight: then be thou gone,
And leave my Love to act alone.

Beau.
Maligni, ha, canst thou weep?
I shall enamour'd grow of what I could not love before.

Bell.
Poor Major, what have we here lost?

Malig.
I Madam, the world can yield no recompence for this.

Chair.
He bad us have a care of him dead!
Sir, remember, pray, to do it as you love
Your dying friend, O my soul!
That I can live to speak him.

[She falls.
Malig.
Alas, my Colonel took care, you see, at last,
For me, unworthy me; I shall grow blind with grief;

Beau:
Come Major, help to lead these Ladies forth,
And call me now your friend;
Since he commanded hath this friendly tie.

[Exeunt.
Enter D'elpech, La'march, Boutefeu.
D'elp.
'Tis strange we should not learn
A perfecter accompt of all this business.

Bout.
Cannot Beaupres inform you?

D'elp.
He seems as ignorant as we.

La'Mar.
And I dare swear he is so:
You two, I hope, are reconcil'd.

Bout.
O yes, the General did it this morning.

D'elph.
How? this morning! why, were you with him this morning?

Bout.
No, not I; who says I was?

D'elp.
I did understand you so.

Bout.
I was mistaken, so were you too; God buy.

Exit.
La'Mar.
What the Devil's this?
Hey pass and repass, this Fellow grows so surly,
He'll have his brains beaten out ere long;
He's like a mad dog, snarls and bites at every body.

D'elp.
I, and no body knows wherefore;
Sure his brain's addle.

La'Mar.
Nay that it ever was since I knew him;
But he's much alter'd, h'us'd to be
An honest plain blunt Fellow;
Now so capricious! out on't!

D'elp.
Who cares?—but to our business:
Who dost thou think will carry now the Regiment?

La'Mar.
There is much talk of young Beaupres;
Though it of right belongs to Maligni.

D'elp.
He's a man that has no friend,
And I'm afraid deserves none:
Yet he will bussle hard before he lose his Right:
The other's a worthy youth;
Though I dare swear he will not much seek for it.

La'Ma.
I love him for my Colonels sake,
H' was his faithful friend.

D'elp.
It shall be still my study how to serve him.
O Major! How i'st man?
[Enter Maligni.
Ha, weeping, why I thought thy breeding in the Wars
Had dry'd that fountain up;
Yet trust me it does become thee;
I shall e'en bear thee company.

La'Mar.
We have all lost a worthy man;
But Fate has call'd him to a better place.

Malig.
I hope so.

La'Mar.
This may prove well for you:
You are the next in place, for to succeed him,

Malig.
It never can prove well,
I having lost so brave a Colonel;
But Gentlemen let me entreat,
You will to morrow morning order give
That all your men draw up together
Without Saint Denis Gate, and there receive
Some further orders:

D'elp.
We will not fail;

Malig.
O! I had forgot to tell you,
(My grief doth overwhelm my memory,)
Young Beaupress is married to Bellmont,
The sister of our late Colonel,
Here privately, since that they came to Town,

D'elp.
Did Brisac know so much before he dy'd?

Malig.
Yes, yes! but not when they were marry'd,
He had bequeath'd her in his will to him,
And with her all his fortune.

D'elp.
'Twas noble Friendship in him,
I wish them joy and happiness.

La'Mar.
What Rumors that, about Beaupres succession?

Malig.
I know not, I, nor care not.

D'elp.
If there be any such report,
It springs from this occasion,
Beaupres did, when his Uncle lost his life,
Pretend unto this Regiment;
But young Brisac
Had then the promise of the first that fell,
For some brave Action he had done;
When Beaupres with him joyn'd in all,
As being long Comrades, forc'd it upon him,
And would not once dispute it,
You since have seen he serv'd a Volunteer,
And would have no Command amongst us.

La'Mar.
Something I knew before;
But was not quite so perfect in the story,
We shall obey your last Commands,
Adieu Major.—

Exit D'elp, La'Mar.
Malig.
He ha' th'Regiment, ha, ha, ha!
I; so he shall, that's my good Boy, make much on't;
Soft, soft ye fools, I have rods in piss
For him, and for his curious Minx
She us'd me sweetly; well, I must not trust her,
She know's I am a Rogue,
And seeing me grow great with him
She may discover our last evenings walk,
How am I now beset with my own plots,
That fool Boutefeu, and he, for ought I know,
May grow to a right Understanding,
Ha! what becomes of me then? I have it
And each on th'other shall secure my fate.—

Exit.
Charlotte, held on a bed by Mariane Francibel, Dorville.
Charl.
Pray, Sirs, let me go, you use me too unkindly,
I never did any of you such wrong;

Dorv.
Take comfort, my dear Girl,
Thy father begs it of thee!

Charl.
Why, I did beg of Heaven, and that was deaf,
Deaf to my Zealous prayers;
Ile never pray agen: but I will sing
My self into his blest Society.
SONG.
Hey, ho! break thou foolish heart;
Why dost thou throb, and snub
Like Girls that are whipt,
Indeed I could be angry thou art so long a breaking.

Franc.
She's much distemper'd, Sir,
Madam, for Heaven's sake take patience to you.

Charl.
What man is that?

Fran.
It is your Father, Madam!

Char.
O pray, Sir, be gone: alas poor man! he weeps too.
Is it for Brisac you weep? nay then, pray stay,
We will all weep, shall we not? he would have wept
For me most bitterly, do not you think he would?

Fran.
Yes surely, Madam.

Char.
Alas poor man! come let me dry your cheeks:
Truly I take it very kindly of you, that you will weep
For my Brisac: did you lament my Mother so?
Would she were with you now to comfort you, and I
Were in her place.

D'orv.
Peace, my dear Child,
Thou like a tangled bird dost beat
And fret thy self to death.

Char.
sings.
O! but he could not; for he dy'd, or else he would
Have kept his promise: was ever poor maid
So couzen'd; speak, were you ever couzen'd?

Maria.
No truly, Madam.

Franc.
May be some Musick may still her spirits, Sir:
Shall my Sister sing?

D'orv.
I Pray let her.

Fran.
Sing Sister! prethee sing!

Mariana
sings.
Lady preserve the Title of your heart,
And ne're commit so rash a deed
As when your Lover doth depart,
You may not leave off sorrow with your weed:
Spoil not what once was thought so fair,
But quench remaining fire with a Tear;
And bury, when the next does come,
And sad remembrance in this Tomb.

Char.
Away, thou art out of tune and sence,
If I needs must hear Musick,
Let it be my poor Boy's Voice;
He once could please me with his melancholly Songs,
Pray, let him sing.

D'or.
Any thing to please thee, poor Charlotte.

Song within by the Boy.
Beyond the malice of abusive fate
I now am grown, and in that state
My heart shall mourn the loss it has receiv'd,
When of its only joy it was bereav'd;
The Woods with ecchoes do abound,
And each of them return the sound
Of my Amintor's name; alas, he's dead,
And with him all my joys are fled,
Willow, Willow, Willow must I wear,
For sweet Amintor's dead, why was my dear.

Fran.
She's faln into a slumber.

D'or.
No noise, make the room dark you do convey her to.

[Exeunt.
Enter Maligni, Boutefeu,
Malig.
I could not guess so much before.

Bout.
P'heu! that can be no reason, Sir,
I never did pretend to her,
It's true, I've seen her often:
But marri'd are they; art sure of that?

Malig.
He and she told me so themselves,
I had some conference with her alone;
But what a Rogue am I!
I was commanded to be silent,
And yet this tongue of mine
It is so forward still to do you good!

Bout.
Why, Major, this to me!
If it be ought that I should know?

Malig.
Alas, Sir, it concerns no other man.

Bout.
And do you doubt my full discretion?
You and I have still been friends.

Malig.
And I am still the readi'st man on earth
To do you service,
But a Ladies honour
The Secret, Sir, is none of mine, but hers;
And I cannot dispose on't to your trust
Without her leave,
She says she mainly doubts your carriage on't.

Bout.
Doubts my carriage?
I have been trusted before now,
With half this Ceremony.
If I can do her service tell me,
For she's a very pretty woman,
And I'l do't, if you wont, chuse!

Malig.
Do her a service?
'Tis to do one to your self,
The greatest too that e're your hopes could aim at.

Bout.
Prethee, what is't, Major!
You torture me with these delays.

Malig.
You never gave a cause to young Beaupre:
Why he should hate you so.

Bnut.
Never I, till to'ther night!

Malig.
P'heu I that was only a requital
To his unkindness,
I'm sure you mean't it so.

Bout.
I did.

Malig.
But never any thing before?

Bout.
Not I.

Malig.
Why, then he does suspect
As much as I am now acquainted with.

Bout.
Let him suspect his heart out,
Prethee what is't?

Malig.
But you will not be rul'd,
And think it is below you thus to sneak,
And hide your self for such a Lady.

Bout.
I will be rul'd, I swear I will:
Thou still shalt be my guide.

Malig.
The fair Bellmont does dote upon you, Sir:
Pray, what Charms have you made use of.
Thus to ensnare so fair a woman?

Bout.
You do not jest with me?

Malig.
Not I,
Nay, if you hold me for a Villain,
I've done.
I knew my foolish tongue would be too forward.

Bout.
Nay, now you are unkind;
But does she love me so,
I'l to her strait,
I wou'd cross hell to meet so fair a Lady.

Malig.
Why look you, Sir, how rash you are?
Take your own course,
This way she'll never see you.

Bout.
How then? dear Major, do you direct me.

Malig.
Can you procure a Fryar's habit?

Bout.
Ha—Yes, the Chaplain of our Regiment has one,
He us'd to preach in; I can take his.

Malig.

Do then, she shall meet you by the River side
below the Garden walk, make haste, and ask no questions.

Bout.
I'm gone; farewell! dear Maligni,
And if I thrive, command my life.

[Exit.
Malig.
Yes I think I shall command thy life,
[Enter Beau.
Or by thy hand be master of Beaupre's.

Beau.
How dost thou, Maligni?
What, all alone?

Malig.
Sir, I was thinking with my self,
How grosly I have err'd;
You ha'nt forgot, I'm sure, our last discourse,
Where you grew angry, about Boutefeu.

Beau.
Hang him rude slave,
I ne're do think on him.

Malig.
He was here even now;
And the fool thinks I'am so much his friend,
There's nought he e're hides from me.

Beau.
His secrets surely are not worth the hearing.

Malig.
They may concern you, Sir, in time.

Beau.
Me, alas, I do defie his malice.

Malig.
But, Sir, there are some private hits,
And those but seldom smart.

Beau.
If he be stout, as I do think he is,
He will abhor to murder any man
That ready is to do him noble reason:
And if a coward;
He will not dare to think on't.

Malig.
Nay, on my Conscience, he'll ne're murder you;
But, Sir, by this I find, you are still at odds,
May be your Lady does it for the best.

Beau.
My Lady! what of her?

Malig.
I say, she, may be, sooths him up,
To make you friends.

Beau.
She sooth him up! why, she ne're speaks to him.

Malig.
Nay, there you are mistaken, to my knowledge, Sir,
And he came thence so jocund and so gay:
She has much power over him!
That is most certain, Sir.

Beau.
What's this I hear?

Malig.
But she should chide him,
The quarrel was very preposterous,
And might wrong her fame.

Beau.
'Tis true, 'tis true! what an Owl am I?
Not to reflect on that.

Malig.
But he was jealous of your better fortune.

Beau.
He jealous of my Bellmont?

Malig.
I, I, all the world might see that in his carriage,
But, why she should consent to meet
A man disguis'd, and privately.

Beau.
I know she will not.

Malig.
But if I prove it to you,
Shall I then be believ'd?
She is the Sister of my Colonel,
And now your Wife, whom I have ever lov'd,
She may some indiscretions now commit
Will lie as heavy on her as a Crime.

Beau.
My honest, honest, Maligni,
Do this, and tie me ever to thy service.

Malig.
Take you no notice, go, I'l bring ye where
You shall need no attest but from your eyes—
[Exit. Beau.
So, these Trout's a man may tickle from their Senses.

[Enter Bout.
Bout.
I have the habit, Major.

Malig.
Make much on't Boy; but keep your sword about ye
Under your Coat, in case of danger to prevent the worst.

Bout.
Thank's, Major, for your care:
I did intend so much.
[Exit Boutefeu.

Malig.
'Tis not my fault if either of you live;
Fall both, And then Im'certain I shall thrive—
Exit. Malig.

Enter Bellmon, Luyson.
Bell.
Go see how my poor sister Charlotte does,
And if she be awake.

Luys.
I shall, Madam.—
Exit Luyson.

Bellm.
How sullen is my fate,
Thus to begin in mourning after marriage,
My Lords poor heart is over-charg'd with grief,
And we like Turtles grieve for poor Brisac;
Poor youth he was both Friend and Brother;
O Major! you are welcome, and I hope,
Enter Maligni.
You have as well forgot the will to sin,
As I have freely now forgot your fault.
You see the frailty of man's estate,
And then the sure account we all must give,
Come be not sad, this Counsel I do'nt mean
As a reproach, but for your real good;
For I do finde my brother lov'd you much.

Malig.
Why did the Heav'ns create you then so fair,
O hide those Eyes, for they would make
An austere Anchorite in Love with sin.

Bell.
You counsel well:
Hereafter Ile not move
This vail when you shall be in presence.

Malig.
'Twas the good Counsel of your Ghostly Father,
Who now ha's eas'd my soul
Of a most heavy burthen it sustain'd.

Bell.
Truly, I do rejoyce in your Conversion.

Malig.
He told me, Madam, he would speak with you,
Alone, without acquainting of your husband,
Matter of Moment he pretends it is.

Bellm.
What should it be? can you not guess, good Major?

Malig.
Yes! I believe about the difference
Happen'd between Boutefeu and him;
I have a Letter from him to you.

Bell.
To me! prethee let's see't.

Malig.
The Priest ha's brought him to confess his fault,
But honour will not let him do't to your Lord,
And you are thought the fittest Medium now.

Bell.
I wish I might prevail with them for peace,
How is she, Wench? does she still sleep?—

Enter Luyson.
Luys.
No, Madam, she's awake,
And 'tis a woful sight to see her so.

Bell.
I will go Visit her.
Major, I shall remember what you told me of,
And will not fail to meet the father,
But pray where is't?

Malig.
Below the Garden, by the River side.

Bell.
Here, Luyson, keep this Letter—

Exit.
Malig.
Nay, stay you here.

Luys.
My Lady will chide, I dare not,
Ile meet you here anon.

Malig.
What letter's that, let's see't?

Luys.
Fy Major, oh here's my Lord—forces the letter from her;

Beau.
Who was that just now
Enter Beaupres.
Parted from you?

Malig.
Your Lady's woman,
I am great with her, stay let me see the Letter
She ha's stoln.
Madam!
I shall not fail to meet you neer the garden,
By the River side, and there be obedient, in what
Ever you shall think most fit,
Boutefeu,
Why, look ye, Sir!
Thus unexpectedly I find a way
To keep my promise with you:

Beau.
'Tis not his hand,
He dares not write thus to her:

Malig.
Are you so perfect in his Character?
Me-think's it is his hand.

Beau.
I never did believe that he could write;
A sense-less brute; but I grow fool in Words
And idle passion is for want of deeds.

Malig.
What deeds?
Heaven guard your brest from evil thoughts,
You will not, sure, conclude that there is harm in this.

Beau.
No, no, meet a man privately,
Disguis'd as you do tell me,
One that durst wrong me too, her husband,
Most excellent Meaning sure there is in this,
O, I could rear her from my memory,
Nay, tear the heart that ever did contain
So base a Guest, as her base Whorish Love.

Malig.
Fye, Sir, 'tis not so bad yet.

Beau.
'Tis not the body, but the mind
Can ever make it bad,
I'de rather have my wife 'twice ravish'd,
Then once dare think the means how she may act it,
But thou art honest Maligni
And know'st not half the cunning of these Women.

Malig.
Alas, Sir, I.
You see, Sir, in her Carriage I was Cozen'd,
Nay, her Brothers eyes were seal'd too,
And yet that was not such a Monstrous Crime,
That she should take such care in the Concealment,
How close she'd prove in matter of more moment.

Beau.
And I, good-Natur'd Fool,
Read it obedience to my strict Command.

Malig.
Nay, may be 'twas so,
But she's good Natur'd too,
And, I would have you still avoy'd all scandal.

Beau.
Good natur'd; ha?
Come lead me to this sight,
I'm sick till I be there,
And sicker shall be far when I have seen it:

Malig.
I will not be your guide,
If you misconstrue ought when you have seen it.

Beaup.
Not be my Guide?
Thou shalt,
Or I will cut your throat, Officious Sir.
[Draws.
Do you pretend to tell me this
Out of meer friendship? thinking to sooth me up
To low dishonour? You should have held your tongue
If you did mean it, knowing me:
But now conduct me where I may see them both,
As thou didst tell me too,
Or I will cut thy throat, because thou knewst not me,
And yet dost know her weakness.

Malig.
Come, put up your Sword,
Or keep it drawn still against your Friend;
'Twill be no argument of courage, Sir,
Nor of much honesty:
I will discover all I can unto you;
And if you rashly deal, then blame not me;
For I grow mad to see your excellent Nature
Thus Fever-shook by a fond Womans fault;
But let me still perswade your wiser thoughts
To fly all choler in your undertakings.

Beaup.
I'le do no rash unseasonable act,
Without a full examination,
That I'le promise thee.

Malig.
Nay, if you come once to examining
You put them to a guard, and they'l defend
All questions you can then but offer to them.

Beaup.
How then?

Malig.
Why, as you please;
But Boutefeu is very cholerick,
He'l scarce endure examination
Without the measuring of this.

Beaup.
Would there were all my mischief,
Prethee lets go, I stand on thorns.

[Exeunt.
Malig.
Come, if I can I will prevent your horns.

Enter Boutefeu like a Frier in the Garden.
Bout.
She is not here yet,
Methinks I look like Frier Bacon;
But I had better been studying what to say;
Hang Speeches, I came to do;
For she likes me already, then what need I talk?
O my sweet Maligni!
I'le sue for thee to my Sister,
An t'wilt, for this kindness:
[Walks up and down.
No Soul in Love, fond Boy, the Worlds great Soul.

Enter Bellmont.
Bell.
Most Reverend Sir, you see I have not fail'd
In my obedience to your Message sent.

Bout.
Not will I ever fail whilst I do breath
To be the humblest of your Servants, Lady.

Bell.
Father! I cry you mercy, you are not the man
I took you for.

Bout.
Yes but I am, Lady; See my hair is only put back.

Enter Beaupres and Maligni.
Beaup.
Hell and Furies ! Stay me not:

Bout.
Ha! her Husband, with Maligni too!
O Villain; I am betraid;
Have comfort, Lady, I can defend ye well.

Bell.
Me! I know ye not.

Beaup.
But I do you.

[Wounds Bellmont.
Bout.
'Twas base; here was the nobler mark,
As I am man, and therefore thou—

Beaup.
Come, come, ye dog, thus I can muzzle ye.

Bout.
No, not yet.

Beaup.
Yes, now 'twill do, thus, doubly thus.

Bout.
Had I but done the deed
It would not trouble me half so much to dye thus.

Bell.
As you did e're love Heav'n
Hear me but speak.

Malig.
Madam, 'tis now too late.

Beaup.
But I will hear her speak,
And learn the truth from dying mouths.

Malig.
Then keep them company.

[Runs at Beaupres.
Bell.
Heav'ns guard my dear Beaupres.

Beaup.
Base treacherous Villain—
[Beaup. disarms him.
What didst thou mean in this?
Hey, Bask! help me to ty this dog:
[Enter Footman, binds him,
Come, lead them to my Closet,
There I will learn the truth;
This place is too much open to the eye.

Bout.
Pray, Madam, ere you go
Tell me one thing, and then I dye in quiet;
Did you e're send for me?

Bell.
Not as I hope for mercy;
Nor did I till now know you.

Beaup.
Who did perswade you hither?

Bout.
A base malicious Villain, and a Knave;
I find I was betray'd by my own folly.
Beaupres, give me thy hand;
As e're I hope to come at Heaven
'Tis Maligni has wrong'd both thee and me,
And this fair virtuous Lady.
This as I'm dying I am bound to tell,

[Dies.
Beau.
What canst thou say to this?

Malig.
I will say nothing but thou art an Ass,
Though I have mist my aim.

Beau.
Convey him, Sirrah, to my Closer,
And kill him rather then permit escape.
[Ex. Malig. Serv.
But O, what torments of Eternal Hell
Afflict my murther'd Soul!
Bellmont my fair! my dear Bellmont!
Could all the malice of a bloody Rogue
Tempt me to wound this brest!
The Fountain of my Pleasures, all my Joys!
O, my curst Stars!
No bolt in Heaven to strike so foul a Murtherer?

Bell.
The Heavens shall sure forgive thee my Beaupres,
If ever I get thither:
For I will be thy Intercessour still,
And knowing it was Love too much betray'd,
I will not grieve to dye thy Martyr;
But when I am gone
Believe my Honour still as fair,
And that I still did love my dear Beaupres,
Farewel, one kiss, so

[dies,
Beau.
Ye Angels take her to your Guardianship,
Whilst I must howl my fault so loud,
That Beasts that hear the dismal sound
Shall frighted stand, and men with horrour sweat,
[Enter Bask.
Whilst they imagine but my Agony.
O Bask, is he safe, here set these bodies up,
Now call the Governour
And all thou seest of my acquaintance,
Hark thee one word.
Thus like a Pilgrim, fore his honour'd Saint,
[Kneels to Bell. body.
I offer up oblations of my Vows;
But like a sinner steel'd in vice
I must despair the mercy I do call for;
For thou art cold my Girle, my poor Bellmont,
And though thy charity to'th last did blaze,
It was a fire will consume my soul,
My easie couzen'd soul, which ought to lose
Its immortality, since it did reason lack;
Come all ye Furies lash me from this sight,
But now I think on't, this is a Sanctuary,
No, I will first perform one act of justice,
(That I should talk of justice now!)
And then I will deliver to your rage
All that I can of me—
Yet let thy mercy, heaven,
Allow me but her sight, for my relief
Her pleasing sight—
For she did speak forgiveness at her death;
And wilt thou use so prodigal a mercy,
No, my Bellmont, I need no weapon for my death,
Grief for my fault will stop my breath.
Enter Maligni gag'd and blinded with a Handkerchief twixt two servants.
So set him there
And when I give the word, hark ye,
He not deserves a worthier hand,
What made thee, Hell-hound, thus abuse my soul,
Had'st thou no pity left thee in thy brest,
Yet this same sight would make Aluto weep;
Thou Cruel Dog—
And I more Cruel Fool—

Malig.
I will not answer thee, do what thou wilt

[Noise here
Beau.
Away with him to Execution,
I hear em' coming—
[Exeunt with Maligni.
Enter Dorville, D'elpech, La' March, La Barr, Attendants.
Most worthy, Sir, why, I have call'd you here,
That sight will best inform you.

Dorv.
Ha! dead! Boutefeu too in a Fryars weed.

Beau.
You'l wonder more when I dare boldly tell you,
'Twas I that kill'd them both.

Dorv.
Disarm him some of you,

Malig.
within—O, O! ye Cruel Dogs!

Beaup.
The first that does attempt it straight shall find
The folly's great, when Im'resolv'd to die!
But hear me quietly some few moments,
I promise to resign it then:

Dorv.
Will you therewith not do some harm first?
Not on your self I mean?

Beau.
I shall not need,
That have such killing objects 'fore my eyes.

Malig.
O, O, O!

Dorv.
What voyce is that!

Beaup.
Say, Sir, I best can tell you,
The voice it is of one
That wrought me to a mischief, none but he,
So wicked Villain as he was,
Could ever give a birth to.

Enter Luyson.
Luys.
O! my Lady! my dear Lady!

Dorv.
Peace, thou foolish woman!
But who is't, pray, Sir? He seem's to be wounded.

Beau.
That horrid Monster Maligni,
Poor Bellmont could he behold thy Face
And plot such Ruine to thy Loveliness?

Luys.
Did he do this?
H'would have ravish'd her once before in the garden.

Malig.
Peace! Devil! peace!

Luys.
Nay, it shall all out,
Ha's tempted me several times to leave some Letters
In her Chamber.

Beau.
I find my soul's a fleeting after her's
And you'l have time enough t'examine this,
See, Sir, the Sacrifice of Innocence,—
Malig. discover'd peirc't with a stake.
Now take my sword, 'tis not in Surgeons Art
To cure the fractures of a Broken heart!
Besides that Villain ha's been busie here;
Forgive me Dear Bellmont! forgive a Crime
Caus'd by my too much Love.—

Dies.
D'elp.
I ever did suspect that Maligni.

La. Mar.
H'was a subtle and a Cruel Villain:

Luys.
But, Sir, your Daughter.

Dorv.
Ha! what of her?

Luys.
Is dead? poor Lady dy'd distracted with her grief.

Dorv.
I wish that mine
Could do that favourable office;
Heaven's how have I deserv'd
These sad afflictions?

D'elpe.
The best of cure and remedy is patience,
Then take it to you, Sir,
Remember Vertue call's upon your sort.

D'orv.
But, Sir, of late,
Vertues rewards are slow,
And I am too much opprest with cruel grief,
To stir my passions by her Moral rules!
O my poor Girl!
How cruel was thy fate?

D'elpe.
Be not so much dejected, Sir!
We must submit to him that makes all even,
And never Spurn against the will of Heaven.

[Exeunt Omnes.