University of Virginia Library

The Fifth ACT.

SCENE I.

A Pallace.
Enter King Solus.
King.
What's Nature, and the Pow'r that Governs it?
Man is the Puppet of the Gods, and moves—
Backwards and forwards as they please to dance him,
Now cou'd I laugh to find my self a fool,
And yet be mad to think I can't be otherwise:
Where's all my blust'ring Roaring Storm against
Semanthe? hush'd, and Calm'd, and all because
Her tears had Pow'r to charm me into fondness?
My great Foundation's laid in sand, one minute
Fierce as Incount'ring Lyons, and the next,
I'm tamer then the meekest Beast they Prey on.

Enter Menaphon.
Men.
Good morning to the King, my Royal Master:
May health, and happiness for ever wait you;
O may you never know one hour of sorrow,
May sweet content dwell ever in your breast,
And all your days and Nights be fill'd with Joys
Equall to those the bless'd above possess.

King.
I thank thee Menaphon for thy kind wishes,
But oh they're what I never must expect:
Alass! I am a thing the World does laugh at,
And all those Clouds, those dark and dismall Clouds,
Which bar the Sun from shining on my misery,
Will never be chased off 'till I am dead.

Men.
The Gods forbid; O do not name your death,
My Loyall heart weeps tears of bloud to hear it:
Alas my Lord, I thought e're this t'have seen,
A Riotous Pleasure Rev'ling in your eyes,
To think how bravely you'd reveng'd your wrongs;
I thought t'have heard you say, come Menaphon,
Now thou sha't see I am a King again:
The Snake I long had foster'd in my breast,
Is Crush'd, th'Adulterate Queen is now no more.

King.
O why my friend? why shou'd that fair one dye?
The Modell of the Heav'ns, the Earth, the Waters;
The Harmony and sweet consent of time,
Are not so beautifull in their Creation,
As is Semanthe: shall I throw away
A Jewell, Empires are to poor to purchase;
What tho' she's faulty, look but on her face,
Oh there's that Expiating brightness there,
As Guilds o're all the Sables of her Soul,
And all her faults and spots are seen no more.

Men.
Why lives she still then?

King.
Yes my friend, she does:
'Tis true I went with fix'd resolves to kill her;
But when I came (Oh who can paint the Scene!)
I saw the beauteous Creature all in tears,
A winking Lamp was burning by her side;
Her Pallace was become a loathsome Jayl,
Nought but infectuous damps were her Companions:
I saw her on her knees a while unmov'd,
But Oh at last I cou'd no longer hold,
By a long siege of tears she calm'd my fury,
And I had not the power to give the Blow:
O Menaphon the keen edg'd Sword of Justice,
I held advanc'd in air, but O her eyes,
There shot that Lightning from those beauteous Heav'ns,
That th'Angry Steel was melted down before 'em.

Men.
I'm glad to find such mercy dwells within you,
I must confess the Chiefest of my wishes,
Is, she may live, but give me leave to think,
I blot my Loyalty in wishing it.
For O what Floud can ever wash away,
The stain that hangs upon your honour Sir?
Consider but the talk of other Nations,
When they shall hear (as this can be no secret,)
How your own eyes beheld your Queens dishonour,
Saw her in the Embraces of a Traytor,
And after that you could sit tamely down,
Without a dire Revenge for the black deed,
'Twill make your little name blown round the World,
The Forregn shame, and your own Subjects scorn.

King.
Oh! thou hast stung me to the very Soul,
It must, it will be so; methinks I see
How the proud haughty King of Sicilly,
Devours the welcome news of my dishonour,
Oh she must dye, she must, by Heav'n she shall,
Nay, dye a publick Spectacle to the World,
And her vile Minion too, curss'd Ithocles
Shall bear her company, this very day
I'll sign an order for their Execution,
And let it be your care to see it perform'd.

Men.
Nay, now you bend too much the other way,
This is short warning for departing Souls,
For pitties sake Sir, let 'em live till Morn.

King.
'Round me you furies that delight in mischief,
And ever keep me waking till the Cliffs,
That over-hangs my light, fall off and leave
These hollow spaces to be cramm'd with dust,
If I do either eat or drink, or sleep,
Till I have finish'd my great just revenge.

Men.
Well Sir, I will no more strive to diswade you,
But what death wou'd you have Semanthe die,

King.
Ha! By the Gods, a Question worth disputing,
And it would puzzle an ingenious Artist
T'invent a way to kill her, for by fire
Or water 'tis impossible to do't,
Betwixt her falshood and her flowing Lust,
She is too rank to burn, too light to drown,
Nay, shou'd I bury the incarnate Monster
Like the slain Gyants under Piles of Mountains,
Her dust like Ætna's flames, wou'd burst through all.
Take thy own method, let me see her dead,
I care not how.

Men.
Well Sir, I'll do my best,
I must confess I wou'd not have her live,
For the respect I bear to my Royal Master,
Therefore I hope you will not change your mind,

King.
O never, never shalt thou see me chang'd,
Thou'lt rouz'd a sleeping Lyon, whom no art,
Nor any thing can e're reclaim but blood.
Where was before my blinded folly driven,
Mercy, what art thou? get thee back to Heaven.
What has the race of man to do with thee?
Leave humane minds to nobler passions free.
Hence forward Death and Ruin Reign alone,
Make Hell your Vassal, and the world your Throne.
[Ex. King.]

Manet Menaphon.
Men.
'Tis done, the fatal Train has taken fire,
I'll follow him, least he should change again,
By Heav'n I am all extasie to think
Of the long prosp'rous chain of our success.
Once by thy doom proud Queen, the very breath
That durst repeat the sound of love, was death,
But oh the pleasure of revenge to dart
Thy own Retorted threats, on thy own heart,
Yes, thou hast scorn'd me Queen, but know the wrongs
Of slighted love shall knit their Scorpion thongs,
Whilst each disdainful step thou dost retire,
Thou tread'st on Graves, and walk'st o're Piles of Fire.
[Ex. Men.]

SCENE II.

Enter Meleander and Lattinius.
Mele.
Why do I live with such a load of sorrow?
Oppress'd with tortures of dispairing Love;
A Sisters shame, my families dishonour,
Oh my Lattinius! Can this weight be borne?
I went to see the false one, and resolv'd
To have dy'd my self in her polluted Blood,
But when the Prison door I wou'd have enter'd,
My trembling Joynts refus'd to bear me farther;
My Ominous Nostrils gush'd forth Streams of Purple,
And to my thinking, all the Heav'ns appear'd
Like blazing Meateors hanging o're my head;
When straight a hollow voice had reach'd my ears,
Crying alloud, thy Sister's innocent;
'Twas surely more then the effects of fancy,
I left the place, and to my Chamber went,
Stretch'd on the Floor, and wash'd the Ground with tears;
My Sisters shame had left my memory,
And more distracting thoughts did enter in me;
Marcelia's scorn came fresh into my mind,
And to my wretched poor tormented Soul,
Set yawning, kneen devouring Fate before me,
In her most dreadful black, and hideous form.

Lat.
I grieve to see your wond'rous discontent,
And needs must own an equal share with you,
For ev'ry sigh that comes from your sad Breast,
Whole streams of Blood flow from my tender Heart.

Mele.
Enter Marcelia crosing the Stage.
[Mele. kneels before Mar. as she's going off.]
[She offers to go.]

Mar.
Alass my Lord, why should you talk to me?
To one that has already been deceiv'd,
O shall I e're believe a man again,
Since Ithocles, he whom I thought the best,
Proved false.

Mele.
Then why should you still love him?
Rather revenge his falshood, pitty me,
And place your love on one that more deserves;
On him, whose heart, whose Soul is all your own,
And ne'er can be anothers.

Mar.
So he swore,
And I fond fool believ'd it to be true,
But when he found my Heart was fixt to his,
My constant love so firm e're to be chang'd.
The Vows, the Oaths he made to Heav'n and me,
He forfeited, and gave his Soul away.
Then wou'd you have me trust a man again?
No, you bless'd powers, rather let me be plac'd
In a wild Desert 'mongst a herd of Beasts;
The Wolf, the Tygre, and the spotted Leopard,
Are less devourers then faithless Men,
You may as soon call back the Sun, stay time,
Prescribe a Law to death, as ever find
One true of all your perjur'd Sex.
A man! The very name is monstrous,
Nay, even the Breath that utters the vile sound,
Flies like infection over all the Air.

Mele.
Why shou'd you thus condemn the Sex for one?

Mar.
For one! for all; Oh you are all the same:
All of one faithless lineage, form, creation,
Like twins in infidelity, each feature,
And ev'ry vein fill'd up with the same falshood;
The Syrens Songs, the Crocodiles false tears
Are less deceitful then the oaths of men.

Mele.
Hear me mistaken beauty, by yon Heaven,
The words of Angels are not more sincere,
Then what I speak, my love as fix'd and firm
As Rocks of Adamant.

Mar.
Hear me my Lord, and hear me you bless'd powers,
To that false Image of your selves call'd man,
To you, and all your Sex I bid farewel,
My fix'd resolves stand a decree of Fate;
Therefore no more endeavour to diswade me,
For when I do consent to love again,
May he I love with loath my hate, receive me,
Eternal discord, raise her bar between us.
May I his love, as you do mine pursue,
And he fly me, as thus I fly from you.
[Ex. Mar.]

Mele.
Then farewel Life, and all my pains at once,
For by the Gods I'll not outlive thy hate,
Lattinius, if the love thou own'st be real,
When I am dead, do me this Courtelie,
Bear to this cruel Woman my last words,
And let her know, my love to her was true.

Lat.
O Sir, upon my knees I do intreat you,
Yet harbour patience, who knows, she may change;
'Tis certain Sir, that Ithocles must dye,
And time may turn this resolution from her;
The Ephesian Matron for a while was constant,
And wash'd her Husband's Grave with truest tears,
But at the last, quite tir'd with useless sorrow,
She did receive a Lover to her Arms;
Marcelia may do this, she is but a woman,
And subject to the frailties of her Sex.

Mele.
I cou'd, I hope she ever cou'd be moved
With endless patience I cou'd wait the time,
Outlive th'old Patriarchs age, in love, grow hoary
At her dear feet, and wear like Ætna's top,
My Fire, and Snow together.

Lat.
Doubt not my Lord.

Enter Bassanes.
Bass.
I beg you'd pardon my unwelcome news,
The Queen your Sister Sir—

Mele.
Why, what of her.

Bass.
Must dye this day.

Mele.
'Tis well.

Bass.
My Lord—

Mele.
'Tis well.
Wou'd in the Cradle sh'ad resign'd her breath,
What death Bassanes?

Bass.
Sir behind the Pallace.
The King decrees that she shall dye by fire,

Mele.
By fire! is that her doom? Well, 'tis decreed,
Semanthe thou shalt sleep, though but in ashes,
Leave me Bassanes, and Lattinius leave me.

Lat.
Sir I cannot leave you.

[Ex. Bass.]
Mele.
What saist thou boy?

Lat.
Indeed I dare not leave you.
Your Clouded brow foretells some storm at hand,
And I much sear 'tis on your self 'twill fall,
Your Sisters Death is strongly working in you,
And makes me dread the fatal Consequence.

Mele.
Thou art mistaken boy, my Sisters death,
I meet with all serenity and calmness;
For if she's guilty, 'twould be most unfit,
A thing so Leprous, shou'd infect the Earth,
If innocent, those Pow'rs that take her hence,
For all her wrongs, her Thorny Coronets,
Her bleeding Veins, and her more bleeding fame,
Have those bright Jemms in an immortal Crown,
What vast reserve of Glories to adorn her,
In the bright Realm of everlasting day,
As more then all her Losses shall repay.

Lat.
What then disturbs you?

Mele.
My dispairing love.

Lat.
It may not long be so.

Mele.
I fear for ever.
Then why should'st thou expect that I will live,
When by my violent Pains too sure I find,
Slaves at an Oar have greater ease then I,
Hard'ned to Labours they their Pains defie,
Dispair in Love 's the only misery.
We with fresh Agonies our Souls torment,
View the bright Tracks where th'adored Beauty went,
And with fresh Pains our endless Plagues deplore,
To think our setting Sun will rise no more.

[Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE III.

A Wood.
Enter Orgillus.
Org.
Where e're I go my Conscience still persues,
And the pale Figure of the dead Armena
Is ever in my view; 'twas not well done,
So ill to gratifie, the woman lov'd me,
Besides, I only fear'd she might discover
What I my self am now inclin'd to do.
The Queen this day must dye a publick death,
'Tis not too late, I yet may save her from it.
[Horns and Huntsmen at a distance.
What noise is that! the ecchoing cries of Huntsmen,
Alas! the hunted Stagg himself, that flies
From all those open Mouths of death behind him,
Is not alarm'd with my pursuing horrors;
He has but a Life, but I a Soul in danger.

Enter Menaphon behind.
Men.
Thus far I've watch'd my Brother, whose sad thoughts,
I fear, bodes Ruin to our great design.
I find his foolish Conscience does perplex him,
And dare not trust my Life in the weak hold
Of Consciencious hands, although a Brothers.
He that would manage Glorious mischief safe,
Shou'd guide his rouling Chariot like the Sun,
And singly hold the mighty Reins alone:
Into his Seat no aiding Partner call,
Lest the misguideing Phaeton hazard all.

Org.
Shou'd I discover it, and save her Life,
And the King's Mercy too shou'd grant me mine,
Where then is Menaphon? What must he dye?
What an ungrateful wretch shou'd I be counted,
To leave my Brother tangled in the snare,
When I my self have pow'r to keep him out.
But yet the violent love that the King bears
To beautiful Semanthe is so great,
That shou'd I tell him all our Villany,
I might with ease make Covenants of safety,
And sign my own and pardon'd Brother's Life.

Menaphon comes forward.
Men.
Brother, with Joy I've heard your troubled Conscience,
And am well pleas'd your thoughts keep pace with mine.
O Brother! Brother! with such dreams of horrour,
Since poor Armena's death, my fancy's plagu'd,
That had not your Remorse of Conscience found you,
I shou'd alone have told it to the King.

Org.
How! My dear generous Brother.

Men.
Yes my Orgillus,
An Orient Beam of Penitence dawns within me,
The Shadows of my once benighted Soul
All vanish'd, and bright day breaks forth in Glory.

Org.
And is kind Heav'n this dear Conversion true?
Is my kind Brother—

Men.
Yes, see here a Prosilite
[Kneels]
To Heaven, Religion, Honor, Piety,
Semanthe, the Innocent Semanthe, dye;
No, I will snatch her from the yawning Precipice,
And fix her righted Fame, and rescu'd Innocence,
On that Immortal Pyramide of Glory,
That the admiring World with up lift Eyes,
And low bent Knees, shall pay their joyful tribute,
At her bless'd Restauration; with my own
Repenting Hand I'll twine, twine a rich Chaplet
Of Flowers, and Roses, and Eternal Sweets,
T'adorn her Sacred Brow.

Org.
O my Just Brother,
Now thou'rt all white again, most lovely fair;
O there's that Rapture in Divine Repentance,
No wonder it unlocks the Gates of Heav'n,
When Oh, there blows a Gale, a fragrant Gale
Of Perfumes from the very Air it flies in.
That sure 'tis all a breath of Parradise:
And shall Semanthe live! come to my Arms,
O nearer to my Breast.

Men.
Yes, to thy Heart—

[Stabs him.]
Org.
Villain, perfidious Villain, thou hast kill'd me.

[Org. falls.]
Men.
Yes, lie there Pitty, my great Plot was found'ring,
And I have stop'd the leak.

Org.
Kis'd and Betray'd!
Embrac'd and Murther'd!

Men.
Yes, Religious Fool.
Thou wert too good for Earth, and I in pitty
Have kindly giv'n thee Heav'n, so sleep Conscience;
And now, wake, wake Revenge agen.

Org.
Oh,

[Groans] Horns and Huntsmen agen.]
Men.
Ha! Company; Curse on this Interruption,
No matter, I am sure I have dispatch'd him,
And his short breath's too weak to hurt me now;
But let me prudently retire unseen:
My Face has danger in't, now dear, dear Vengeance.

[Ex. hastily drawing off Orgillus.]

SCENE IV.

The Scene Changes.
Enter Guards making way for the Queen.
1. Guar.
Room there, bear back; room for the Queen.

Enter Semanthe in white, attended with six Ladies in Mourning; Bassanes, Guards, and Attendants.
Quee.
Kind Gentlemen, there needs not this formality,
I am past all State Ceremony now,
Alas, there's no distinction in the Grave,
The proudest Sovereign Head when laid in Dust,
Sleeps on as Course a Pillow as a Pesant's.
And Oh! there opes that narrow Gate to Heav'n,
That Majesty it self must stoop as humbly
For ent'rance there, as the poor crawling Cottager:
Well Gentlemen, you come to see me die;
To see the scatter'd ashes of your Queen,
Blown round the spreading Globe, but oh! my friends,
Cou'd but my spotless Soul be seen as plainly,
Oh! to the utmost corners of the Earth,
The sounding Trump of my immortal innocence,
Wou'd fill Fame's swelling vollume with a story,
So full of woe, and that unequal fate,
As tender drowning eyes wou'd melt to read,
And the hard cause of poor Semanthe dead,
Even distant worlds, and pittying ages plead.

[Exit Omn.

SCENE V.

The Scene drawn, discovers a great many Spikes fix'd in the Ground, and a high Battlement above it.
Enter King Menaphon, Meleander, Guards and Attendants.
King.
Brother, I sent for you to see a justice
Done on the Monster that has wrong'd us both,
Haste Amyclas, and bring the viper forth.

[Ex. Amyclas.]
Re-enter Amyclas with Ithocles, chain'd in's Shirt and Drawers, a night Gown over 'em, Guarded.
Itho.
My death you have decreed, and Heaven permitted,
But know mistaken King, I wear a Soul
So free from that black charge for which I dye,
That at my Launch into Eternity,
I shall soare lighter then a mounting Angel,
And smile above, when thou false Menaphon
Sha't grin below; and though I leave the world
In poor deluded eyes, and Popular breath,
A Cank'red bloated thing, the hour will come,
When Fame's Recanting Trump shall sound my innocence.
Murder may hush, and guiltless blood may slumber,
But oh they never sleep, the hour will come,
When the story of my Fate, and the Dark Leagues,
And black Caballs against Semanthe's Honour,
And both our lives shall be all, all disclosed,
Whilst our amazing murther turns, a spectre
Shall fright you with the form.

King.
I'll hear no more.
I came not here to have my Royal justice
Arraign'd, but executed, guilt so harden'd,
As durst offend like thee, can never want
A forehead too, as hard'ned to deny it.
Take him away, by Heav'n my feeble rage.
[Ex. Guards with Itho. the Scene shuts.]
Is plumed with Down, and falls like feather'd snow,
But rowze my Bolts of Fate, and murder'd Love,
Thy sleeping furies wake—but oh Semanthe,
Though this avenging Sword my honour draws,
Proud of the Justice, yet I mourn the cause,
And oh! though pleas'd I send thee to the Grave,
I live to kill, what I wou'd dye to save.

Enter Lattinius hastily, and kneels to the King.
Lat.
Oh Sir!
As you'd secure your everlasting peace,
And dearer Soul, and guard a groaning Kingdom
From the impending plagues of guiltless blood,
Save, save Semanthe's Life.

King.
What means the Boy?

Lat.
By the bright Guardians of the Throne she's innocent;
Oh injur'd Sir! that shame of the Creation,
[Pointing to Meda.]
Oh injur'd Sir! that shame of the Creation,
Th'incarnate Devil Menaphon in a Wood,
Has babourously butcher'd his own Brother,
Who found by Huntsmen in his gasping Pangs,
Had just Remains of Life, enough to open
That most infernal Mass of Forgery;
Against the vertuous Queen's immaculate Honour,

Men.
Sure the youth raves.

Lat.
By Heav'n my Lord, 'tis true,
But fly, and save her life e're 'tis too late,
Then lend your Leizure to the hideous story,
Prepare your eares to ake, and Soul to tremble.

King.
Haste Amyclas, and stop the Execution.

Lat.
Oh fly Sir, with a posting Angels speed,
An Angel to redeem.

[To Amyclas as he's going off.]
[Ex Amy. running.]
Orgillus wounded, brought in by Huntsmen, Menaphon starts.
Men.
Ha! my Brother,
Vengeance and Hell, my Plots are all unravell'd,
Curse on my erring hand.

[Aside.]
Org.
Save, save the Queen.
Oh Sir she's innocent, her spotless truth,
White as our Souls are black, my Trayt'rous Brother,
And wicked self by false Armena's help,
Mixt a Lethargick potion for the Queen,
And Ithocles; and in the operation
Of the curst sleeping Drugg, we lay'd 'em senceless,
Clasp'd Arm in Arm, all Artifice and delusion,
To rob you of your peace, and her her life.

Men.
Thou cack'ling, craven slave.

[Draws and runs at him, is seiz'd by the Guards]
King.
Disarm the Traytor,
Go on my dying Penitent.

Org.
Alass!
I cannot more, Armena's murder'd Ghost
Raises a sullen fame from nights dark coast,
[Diet.]
My sence grows dim, and in a mist I'm lost.

King.
Hah! dead!
Is the stupendious tale of horrour done?
And dost thou Monster live to hear it?

Men.
Yes,
And doubly damn'd I did not live to act it.

King.
Thou art a Traytor of so black a die—
But haste, unbind the Guiltless Ithocles,
Bid him come down to meet a Flood of Honour;
The Acclamations of an Ecchoing Kingdom,
And the Rewards of a repenting King.
[Ex. an Attendant.]
But for thee Monster.

[To Menaphon.]
Men.
Call your self that Monster,
For such I'd made you, had my Plot succeeded;
But since the proud Semanthe's scorn has given me
That stroke of Fate, that all her bolts beyond it,
Will prove but edgless Plagues, I dare thy worst;
Know I defie at once both Hell and thee.

King.
Damnation, was there ever Dungeon, Jayle
Or Gibbet that cou'd match this hardn'd Infidel,
But do I talk and let the Villain live,
Away with him,
And his own snare, be his own fate, the doom
Of Ithocles see executed instantly
On that Infernal slave, but yet thou devil
So Grand, thou'rt fitter to be Lucifer's
Tormenter then he thine, repent and save,
If possible, thy bloated Soul;

Men.
Repent! a Scull which has for Ages lain i'th' Earth,
Shall sooner Pray then I. I do Repent
I've mist my ends, for had that piece of Pride,
Ended her hated Life, in scorching flames
I wou'd have borne the hottest plagues of Hell,
Rattled the Chains of my Infernal Goal,
As Peals of Joy that I had left thee here,
With greater torments than I felt below.
Have smil'd to think on thy distracted Soul,
And laught when all the damn'd besides did howl.
[Exit Men. Guarded.

King.
Most hiddeous Villain,
Was slighted Lust then
The lighting Fire-brand to this Hellish Train.
[Enter Queen attended
Ha! by my wrongs that Injur'd Beauty lives!
My Joys like rustling Winds lockt up in Caves,
Do bustle for a Vent. Oh! to my breast,
Yet Closer, Closer thou dear banisht Peace,
Torrents of Extasies, transporting Joyes.
But oh! Divinest Innocence, is there
That Beam of mercy in th'Immortal Treasury,
As can forgive my faults?

Queen.
Name 'em no more;
My Joy, to find you know my Innocence,
Makes me forget that I was ever wrong'd;
Nay, had I dy'd 't had pleased my murder'd Ghost,
To see my vertue to the World Proclaimed.

[Enter Marcelia.
King.
But see, Marcelia! Oh what Recompence
Is there in Nature for the wrongs Ive done thee?

Mar.
Most Royal Sir, there is a Recompence,
Wou'd Cancel all the Injuries was done
To me, and to th'unhappy Ithocles.

Queen.
I know thy meaning, and I hope Marcelia,
The King will not deny his free Consent.

[Enter Ithocles Attended.
Mel.
[Aside.]
I fear her meaning tends to my destruction.

King.
Oh thou bright worthy!
Come to my Arms; my Arms; Oh no, that Circle
Is too Unhallow'd to Infold such Goodness.
No let me first deserve t'embrace thee, take
This fair Attonement for the wrongs I've done thee.

Itho.
Oh my Exalted bliss!

[gives him Marcelia.
Mel.
And my Confusion.
[aside.]
Remember Sir the Promise of a King,
It was to me you gave Marcelia.

King.
Ah!
Take heed bold man, croak that loath'd sound no more.
I have rewarded Virtue, and crown'd Love;
And if before, to my unprincely shame,
I promised ought to wrong this faithful Pair,
Perhaps that guilty Promise drew down Heav'n against me;
And 'tis just I have appeas'd
The wrath of that black Sin.

Mar.
No, Meleander.
Persue not hopeless Love, nor tempt the frown
Of Heaven by cherishing a lawless Fire;
No, take this worthier and kinder Beauty,
[gives him Statilia.]
No more Lattinius, but the fair Statilia.

Omn.
Statilia!

Itho.
Ha! my Sister.

Stat.
Yes my Brother.
The same unhappy Maid—

Mar.
Transform'd by Love;
But take her to your Arms and hide her Blushes,
She's Love that can deserve you, though I want it.

King.
Brother and Friend, [for he that weds our Favour
In fair Statilia, I must call him both]
Accept this Present from my hand,

[giving Stat.
Queen.
And mine,
To bind the Royal Seal.

Mel.
My Heart heaves up, and struggles in my Breast,
When I but look on fair Marcelias Face,
But she is lost to me, for ever lost;
And one more kind there is that seeks my Love,
I will no more persue a hopeless Game,
But fix my Heart on her that has deserv'd it.
[aside.
Oh! on my knees Statilia let me beg
[to her.
A Pardon for the Injuries I've done thee;
Accept a Heart that now is all thy own.

[Enter Mr. Harris.]
The Scene drawn discovers Men. Executed, being flung from a Battlement upon Spikes.
Bass.
According to your Majesties Command,
The Traitor Menaphon received his doom.

King.
Behold Semanthe, the curst Instrument
Of all our Woes.

Queen.
Remove the dismal sight—
[the Scene shuts.
He was a Villain, and a cruel one
Yet I cou'd freely have forgiven him.

King.
Thou beauteous Miracle of woman kind,
Let all the Kingdom share my mighty Joy!
Brother, Marcelia, Ithocles, Statilia,
Was ever man redeem'd like me from ruin,
O what a Precipice have we escap'd!
How near we all were to the Gulph of Ruin,
Till thou, blest Soul, brought us this Halcyon Gale.

Lat.
The great Reward does far exceed my hopes.

[Aside.
King.
Oh! give me leave,
As one, that wearied with the Toil at Sea,
And now on wisht for Shore has fixt his feet,
He looks about, and glad's his Thoughts and Eyes
With sight o'th' green cloath'd ground and leafy Trees:
So let me gaze agen on those dear Eyes,
Nothing but kisses to thy Lips discourse.
Oh! My Semanthe, to my Arms return,
Where loves rekindling Fire shall brighter burn,
Whilst all the wrongs to Beauty so Divine,
Shall be but foils to make the Diamond shine.

[Exeunt omnes.