University of Virginia Library

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.