University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene, A Field.
Enter Tachmas, Vincentio, Sigismond, and Souldiers.
Vin.
My Fellow Souldiers, why we're thus met here,
This noble Youth, the brave, the valiant Tachmas,
The banisht Brother to your lov'd Cesario,
Can best inform you; my Heart swells with grief,
And cannot tell the story; speak, my Lord,
And be assur'd, you're amongst Men, whose Souls
Do claim an equal share in your Misfortunes.

Tach.
Then to you Souldiers, props of this great Kingdom,
Behold I come uncall'd from Banishment,
And give my Life into your noble hands,
I come a Tale of horrour to relate.
I come to shew when Monarchs sleep in Peace,
What worthless trifles they esteem poor Souldiers,
May I have leave to speak?

Sould.
Yes, Speak, speak Tachmas.

Tach.
Alas, I fear the subject is ungrateful,
But yet it does concern the general good.
That Soul of Valour, great Cesario, he,
Who has, like Lightning, purg'd the air of Naples,
From all the hot Infections Foreign War
Cou'd threaten, and shall he
Whose very name was great as Fate it self,
To all his Enemies, now basely die?

Sigis.
Die! no, he's damn'd that dares but mutter it.

Vin.
If they who first occasion'd it were so,
'Twou'd bring much Comfort to all honest Hearts.

Tach.
His Death, past all Redemption, is Concluded.
His Death to whom they owe their Lives. Oh Souldiers,
You've seen i'th' heat and bravery of a Fight,
How he'd cheer up his faint, dishearten'd Troops;
Even when his Body seem'd but all one Wound,
That it appear'd a little Island, Circled
Round with the purple Deluge of his Blood,
Who when Wars Queristers, the big-mouth'd Drums,
And surly Trumpets, sung his Armies Dirge,
That fatal Musick swell'd his sprightly Sence,
More than soft Hymns at Nuptials.

Sigis.
Sir, His Glories
Are so well known to us, we need not urge
The repetition, but 'tis past my thoughts,
Why on the sudden he shou'd be compell'd
To yield his Life up.

Vin.
Nay, when we return'd
From our last Victory, when we expected
He shou'd have had a double Triumph given
In honour of our Victories, the King,
And his wise State, receiv'd us as their Foes,
What cou'd they mean by that?

Tach.
I'll tell you, Sir.
There is in Princes Courts a lean-fac'd Monster
Term'd Envy (Reigning in Unworthy Breasts,)
To Fames Heroick Sons, such as can cringe
With subtle motion to their Prince's smiles,
Adore his Footsteps, and his awful Nods,
And can like Asps instil into his Ears,
A sweet, yet killing Venom. These thin Souls,
When the blunt Warriour has on Piles of Wounds
Built up his Countries Safety, whisper, Beware
In time, my Lord, least he do grow too great.
So the poor Souldier is in time of Peace,
Stript of those Glories purchast in the War.

Vin.
But Sir, why must he die?

Tach.
Only for loving of his Monarch's Daughter.
Tell me, Is that a Crime deserving Death?
Speak, if it be, and I will plead no more.

Vin.
A Crime! 'Udsdeath, my Lord, he does deserve her:
H'as bravely fought, and bravely conquer'd for her.
Speak Fellow Souldiers, shall these Court Mushrooms,
That live in Peace, and Riotous Luxury,
Deny a fasting Souldier one poor snap,
After long abstinence? It may not be:
And for your Foreign Prince, your Ferdinand,
We'll spoil his Vaulting, ev'ry Man a Limb,
Will quickly cool his Courage.

Tach.
Yet, Souldiers, tho' I beg you'd save your General,
Preserve your Loyalties. Oh, forbear the King,
And his dear sacred Person reverence,
As if he were a God, and dwelt on Earth.

Vincen.
We'll save the King and General; but if
They'll take my Counsel, hang up Ferdinand.

Souldiers.
Ay, ay, well said, noble Colonel, Long live
Our King and General, and a Halter for Ferdinand.

Tach.
Let me imbrace you all, all to my Bosom,
You Limbs of Mars. Who when Fate calls you hence,
Will leave behind each man a Monument,
Which shall for Ages last with this Inscription;
The Sons of Honour, Naples great Preservers.
Sure to such Men belong those mighty Names,
Who sav'd their General, yet preserv'd their Fames.

[Ex. Omn.

SCENE II.

Urania discover'd Reading. A Song within.
SONG.
Written by a Person of Quality. Sung by Mrs. Boteler.

Uran.
In vain, alas! you strive to give me Ease:
Musick to lull my Pains, dull soothing Flattery!
The pressing weight that hangs upon my Soul,
Nought but my dear Cesario can remove:
All Props are weak where the Foundation's Love.

Enter Oswell.
Osw.
O Royal Mourner, lovely in thy Tears!
Thus low I fall to beg a blushing Pardon,
For the sad Story I am doom'd to tell.

Uran.
How, my Heart trembles! speak, what is't, Sir?
If there be yet a greater Grief in store,
Speak it, and kill Urania with the Sound.
Yes, Oswell, play the generous Executioner:
Give me the last kind, finishing Stroke of Mercy,
And end my lingring Torments at a Blow.

Osw.
The Gods, and all good Powers guard your Life;
And O that I had dy'd e'er liv'd Commission'd,
For this ungrateful Charge: doom'd to pronounce
The only Sound can make Urania wretched.

Uran.
I guess the Horrour, yet I fear to know it.

Osw.
And I, thus trembling, stand and fear to utter it,
Yet you must hear it, yes, the fatal Sound
Must reach your Ears, and some curst Tongue must tell you
Your dear Cesario's murder'd.

Uran.
Murder'd!

Osw.
Yes, murder'd by the King's Command.

Uran.
Enough, Oh cruel Father!

Osw.
The Prince, my Master, toucht with his long Sufferings,
Heard, but too late, of the King's harsh Decree,
And flew, with Eagle's speed, to stop the Blow,
But Oh too late! their bloody butchering hands,
Already were imbru'd in his warm Blood;
His last words pardon'd his unhappy Rival,
And as o'th' Ground they lay claspt Arm in Arm,
Like faithful Friends, they mourn'd each others Fortune.

Uran.
Oh speak no more!

Osw.
Yes, I am bound to speak:
The Prince, as by Cesario's side he lay,
With truest Tears bathing his bleeding Wounds,
And, with these words, thrown in like precious Balm,
Had almost stopt the Journey of his Soul.
Live, live, (said he) Urania is thy own,
To make Atonement for thy mighty Wrongs,
I'll quit my Love.

Uran.
Dissembling Infidel!

[Aside.
Osw.
But when he saw his Veins did ebb too fast,
And Life flew swift away, he snatcht his Sword,
And, e'er my Hand cou'd reach to stop the Blow,
Plung'd it in's Breast, but did not reach his Heart;
Which when Cesario saw, he graspt his Hands,
Begging that he would live, and call'd him Friend,
Go to that widow'd Fair, (said he) the poor Urania,
But first prepare her for the dismal Story:
Tell her 'tis now too late for her to grieve;
And as she ever lov'd her dying Husband,
Bid her obey the King, who, though unkind,
Is still my Sovereign, and her Royal Father.
More he'd have said, but hasty Death rush'd in,
And his last words bequeath'd you Ferdinand's.

Uran.
Ferdinand's, did he, Cou'd he call me his,
My unkind Lord, didst thou then think I'd live,
After thy Death, and live within his Arms,
[Aside.
The Cursed Author of our Cruel Fortunes:
Though with a painted shew of Treacherous Grief,
He cast a mist before thy dying Eyes.
[Aside.
The Masque's too thin for mine—Pray Sir, retire—
[To Osw.
And tell Prince Ferdinand, 'twill not be long,
Ere I am happy in his love—or Heavens—

[Aside.
Osw.
I shall obey your Highness—Oh true Woman—
[Aside.
The living still are valu'd, not the dead—

[Ex. Osw.
Uran.
It is decreed, I must not stay behind.
Yes, yes my Father, thou sha't see thy Daughter,
When all her Veins stream with a purple source;
Then he may pity me, and shed one tear;
Sure Nature will compel him to do that.

Enter Ardelia.
Ard.
Madam, the King Commanded me to wait you
Straight to the Palace.

Uran.
I'll attend his Call.
Now my Cesario, in what e'er bright Region,
The Mansion of the blest, where Martyr'd truth,
And faithful Love in wreaths of Glory shine,
I'll find thee out, and mix my Soul with thine.
Think not mistaken King, Cesario's Grave,
The narrow Gulph of parting Worlds between us,
Shall be a bar to love resolv'd like mine.
Yes, Dearest Martyr, 'tis by Love decreed,
That thy Urania at thy Stake shall bleed;
Since Faith and Truth such poor Rewards are given,
What is deny'd on Earth, we'll seek in Heaven.

[Ex.

SCENE III.

A Prison.
Cesario discover'd on a Couch. Enter Ferdinand and Oswell.
Ferd.
You think she may be won then?

Osw.
May, most Certain.
Nay, Sir, you have her own Confession for't,
Her foolish Tongue in the last words dropt from her,
Cou'd not forbear to tell me so; alas,
What Woman ever yet admir'd the dead,
When there were living Lovers to be found?

Ferd.
Then he must die: Oswell, wait you without,
And let none Enter here, unless the King.

Osw.
I shall obey your Orders.

[Ex. Oswell.
Cesario Rises.
Cesa.
More Torments still! Why dost thou bring to plague me,
The only Person of the World I hate?

Ferd.
And why that Person of the World so hateful?

Cesa.
Because that Person poorly entertains
A sordid Soul within, which shames the Lodging.

Ferd.
Bold Man!

Cesa.
Yes, bolder Lord. Thou that darst act
What Man would blush to think.

Ferd.
Blush!

Cesa.
Blush, false Greatness.
Inglorious titled Wretch, Panthers and Leopards
Are spotless to thy Stains, those kind Devourers,
The Innocenter, honourabler Savages;
They chase blood fairer than the treach'rous Ferdinand,
Run down their hunted Prey in open Field,
Not snare 'em into toyls, mew'd up for Sacrifice,
In Dungeon Walls, as thou hast done Cesario.

Ferd.
Vile Arrogant, how Impudent is guilt?
When with such Rude, and Villainous Reflections,
Thou darst impeach the Justice of thy punishment.

Cesa.
Justice, my bold Tormenter!

Ferd.
Justice, Miscreant.
The just reward of thy too bold Ambition.
As well the tumbling Lucifer might challenge
His Fall; call his Damnation Martyrdom,
Plung'd in his Flames for his aspiring Pride,
As thou in Chains for thine.

Cesa.
Infamous Tyrant,
How poorly dost thou prop thy Impious Cause,
And gild the Face of Butchery? Royal Hangman,
Take thy Face hence, my persecuting Cerberus.
Sure in the Grave I shall not rest in Peace,
If Prisons cannot guard me from thy Malice.

Ferd.
Malice, alas, can'st think I bear thee Malice!
Imperial brightness Envy at a shadow!
Malign thee! yes, when Stars repine at gloe-Worms.
Oh that thou stoodst but some tall Mountain Cedar,
With all thy Pride and Glory rais'd up high,
That I might plow thy Root up with a blast;
But since a Village Shrub is all my aim,
And my low Vengeance has no nobler game;
My blushing shame, withholds my arm of fate.

Cesa.
A Shrub! that name from him, that needs my pity!
From him that lives in Torment, I in Pleasure,
Raptures and Ecstasies, my Jail Companions;
Whilst Fiends and Goblins haunt thee, even to Thrones,
Break thy distracted sleeps on Beds of Gold:
From my Urania's love, her love, poor Prince,
There Darts that Beam as lights my very Dungeon,
Imprints a softness, even in Chains and Death,
Whilst thou, the little object of her hate,
Must bear about thee an Eternal Hell,
And beg in vain of that dear Heaven for ease.

Enter Oswell.
Osw.
My Lord the King.

Ferd.
Now tremble at thy doom.

Cesa.
Why should I dread the only thing I covet?
You seek a Life that I desire to lose.

Enter King.
[Shout within.
King.
Hell and Confusion seize their clamorous Throats!
Oh Ferdinand, I am beset with Ruine,
My very Slaves oppose my Royal Justice;
And dare rebel to save a Traytor's Life.

Ferd.
Great, Sir, what storm is this that shakes your quiet?

King.
Dost thou not hear the bellowing Crowd proclaim it?
The scum of Earth, those never-failing Rebels,
Join with the Souldiers to preserve Cesario:
But in despight of that ungovern'd Herd,
A Monarchs hand shall send him from the World.

[Draws and runs at Cesario, Ferd. stops him.
Ferd.
Hold, Sacred Sir.

King.
Wilt thou oppose me too?

Ferd.
Most sacred Sir, that stroke requires more thought,
Shou'd you thus cut him off, the incens'd Rabble
Wou'd throw aside all Duty and Allegiance,
And on your Royal Head pour all their fury;
Affection in your stubborn multitude,
Is a prone Torrent not to be withstood.
Were you as sacred, Sir, as Heaven it self,
Yet when you stop the current of their Will,
They'll break all Bands of duty, and prophane
That Holiness, to which they'd bound their Faiths.
Appease them first, which when you have perform'd,
A private way may finish your Revenge.

King.
Must I then crouch and fawn to crawling Mud,
Wou'd I cou'd Curse the Traytors from the Earth.
But oh the wretched State of Kings, my Fate
Will force my Tongue to flatter where I hate.

[Ex.
Ferd.
Dost thou not think thy self secur'd from harm?
And with Triumphant smiles dispise our fury?
Dost thou not think the threatning storm that's near,
Will cast thee safe ashore, and Shipwrack me?

Cesar.
How silly and how vain is credulous Man!
Thy Fear suggests what never enters here.
I see the Woman brooding in thy Eyes,
And thy Soul bursting with envenom'd Malice.
And oh, how poor is he that's Passion's Slave!
Let me be stript of all my Soul holds dear,
Rob me of Life, and what's more priz'd, Urania;
Yet thou shou'dst see how my undaunted Soul
Cou'd bear it all, and smiling quit the World.

Ferd.
I'll try this boasted Courage: 'tis resolv'd,
This hour's thy last, in spite of what can threaten.
Thou tak'st the Free-hold of my Soul away,
Urania and that are but one Creature.
's Death, I have been a tame Fool all this while,
Swallow'd my Poison in a fruitless hope;
But my Revenge as heavy as Jove's wrath,
Wrapt in a Thunder-bolt is falling on thee.

Cesar.
And I can thus undaunted stand the stroke,
Yes, barbarous Prince, appear in thy true Colours.
Shake off that dull effeminate Clog, Humanity,
And if the least remains of Vertue, Honour
Hang soft upon thy Soul, freeze, freeze thy Veins,
Crust'em to Rock, and wall thy heart in Marble,
Inexorable as the Grave, and deaf as Death.
Bath in my Blood, and mount me to the Stars.
But know, when from my glorious Constellation,
I shall look down upon that dark Abyss,
Where thou ly'st howling in eternal Flames,
I'll scorn thee then, as I defie thee now.

Ferd.
Oh! I am vanquisht by this noble Spirit.
Come to my Arms; my Arms, nay to my Heart.
There take possession, and remain for ever.
Cesario, thou sha't find that I have Honour
Equals my Love. Oswell, retire a while,
But first your Sword, and as you love your Master,
Ask me not why, nor yet dispute my Orders.

Osw.
I've ever learnt Obedience to my Prince,
Tho' I much fear the fatal Consequence.

[Ex. Oswell.
Ferd.
Cesario, this imbrace makes me thy Friend,
And with it take this more surprising Present.
Since 'tis decree'd that one of us must fall,
Let Fortune hold the Scale: if 'tis my Fate,
A long farewel at once to Life and Love.
But if 'tis doom'd this Hand must give thee Death,
Oh, make but this return with thy last Breath,
Call me thy Friend, and make Urania mine.

Cesar.
By Heaven, you have with Honour conquer'd me,
And here I lift a Sword against that Life,
Which, witness for me, Gods, how fain I'd save,
Nay were there any way to preserve both,
But by resigning of the bright Urania;
Were I as great as the young Macedonian,
Whose Conquering Arms subdu'd the spacious World,
I'd quit all Titles to those vanquisht Crowns,
And build my Happiness on Love and Friendship.

Ferd.
It will not be, we cannot both possess her;
And either to resign's Impossible.
Therefore delay no longer; if thou dost,
I here call back the name of Friend again;
And will proceed as an inveterate Foe.

Cesa.
But this Embrace, and then proceed to blood.
[Embrace:
Now Fate, ordain me Love, or give me Death.

Ferd.
Thou hast thy wish, Urania now is thine;
[Fight, and both wounded.
And may those powers that give her to your Arms,
Crown all your Days and Nights with endless Joys.

[Ferd. falls.
Cesa.
That wish is kind, but oh it comes too late.
For Death has been too busy with us both,
And we both fall each others Sacrifice.

[Falls.
Enter King, Tachmas, Sigismond, Oswell, and Souldiers.
Osw.
Behold, my Lord, the fatal deed is done;
See where th'unhappy Rivals, Arm in Arm,
Are mixing Blood, as they have join'd their Souls.

Tach.
How fares my Brother?

Cesa.
Near my last safe Harbour,
Let me the little time I have to live,
Imploy in begging Pardon of my King,
And one kind farewel word to my Urania.

King.
Haste, haste, and bring that most unhappy Innocence;
Made wretched by a Fathers harsh Decree.

Cesa.
O Brother, Place me nearer to my Friend:
No more my Enemy, yet still my Rival,
My generous Rival, still though't be in Death.

Ferd.
My dear Cesario, I must bid farewel:
For cruel Death too hasty draggs me hence.
Urania hates me, and 'tis time to die.
But whither I shall go, too cruel Fair,
The shades of black Despair can only tell.
Pusht from the World by thy Disdain and Scorn,
I drop into the dark side of Eternity—

[Dies.
Cesar.
Farewel, thou Royal Convert of true Honour.

[Enter Ardel.
Ardel.
Where, where's the King? oh, Sir, the poor Urania!

King.
Ha! what of her?

Ardel.
If Horrour and Confusion
Will lend me Breath to speak. Unhappy Princess!
Alarm'd by the false Oswell's treach'rous Tongue,
That your Commands had given Cesario death;
Her generous Despair for her dear Lord,
In her own Breast has plung'd her fatal Dagger.

Cesar.
For me! this was too much. Oh Love! thy Altar
Was never loaden with so rich a Victim.

Ardel.
And all the small remains of life that's left her,
She comes to sigh out in his dying Arms.

Enter Urania bleeding, her hair hanging loose, led by two Women.
Uran.
Lead, lead me to this dismal scene of Horrour.
Place me but near to my poor dying Lord,
And in his Arms, I'll quit the World with pleasure.

Cesar.
Ye cruel Powers! this stabs my very Soul.
Is there no Help, no Art, no succouring Angels
To save her Life?

Uran.
Wer't in the Power of Fate,
The precious Balm of thy kind Tears wou'd do't.
But 'tis too late.

King.
My dear unhappy Daughter,
What has thy Rashness done!

Uran.
Nothing but only paid
The Debts of dying Love, tho' cruel Fate
Divorc'd me from his Arms, and cancell'd all
Our marriage Joys; yet in the Grave, in that
Cold Bridal Bed, I shall not be deny'd
To lie a sleeping Virgin by thy side.

King.
Of all these Ruines only I am Authour!

Cesar.
Can then my kind and generous Princess
Leave all her Greatness, all her blooming Youth,
Let those dear Eyes, those sparkling Twins of Love,
And all that mighty Mass of infinite Beauty,
Lie undistinguish'd in the common Heap
Of mouldring Dust, ghastly as Death and wither'd
As naked scraggy Roots of unborn Flowers,
And all for her unhappy, worthless Slave?

Uran.
Cou'd I do less to shew I lov'd Cesario?
The meanest of my Sex can live and love,
Each common Spark inspires that feeble heat,
To die for Love is only truly great:
Nor is this all the Glory of my Death,
You God's I bring my Innocence to Heaven.
Free from Loves grosser and impurer Charms,
I die a Virgin in my Husbands Arms.

[Dies.
Cesa.
She's dead, she's dead, meet her you Gods, oh meet her:
Throw open all the shining Gates of Heaven;
And sally out, thick as the Beams of Day:
To her Immortal Praise, new tune your Spheres,
At her dear Feet your brightest Diadems lay,
For this is Beauties Coronation Day;
But still in all her Heavenly Pomp she wants
Her Loyal Slave, I come, dear Saint, I come.
Oh let thy Soul one moment stay its flight,
And take mine with thee to Eternal Light.

[Dies.
Enter Sigismond.
Sig.
Forgive, dread Sir, the ungrateful sounds I bring,
The popular fury and your Armies Rage
For their Dear General, and Princes Blood,
Is swell'd so high, that where the Storm will break
I tremble but to think; their Impious murmurs
No less than at your Royal Scepter fly.

King.
My Scepter, why 'tis what I'm weary of:
It may be Tachmas, 'twill to thee descend:
But when the Royal Helm is in thy hand,
Oh let my Wrack thy warning Seamark stand,
Shun but my Guilt, and with a prosperous Tyde,
Safe from my Rock the Royal Vessel Guide.

[Exeunt omnes.