University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Urania discover'd melancholy, Ardelia standing by her.
Ardel.
Dear Madam, do not wear this clouded Brow,
Those lively Looks that us'd to cheer the Court,
Are now grown Strangers to you.

Urania.
Prithee Peace.
Can I look pleasant in Cesario's Absence?
As well the Sun, wrapt in a dark Eclipse,
May appear beautiful to th'frighted World.
Oh when, Cesario, when wilt thou return,
To free me from thy hated Rival's Suit!
This Ferdinand, Disturber of my Peace.

Ardel.
Madam, you need not thus disturb your self.
He takes all humble ways to gain your Heart:
Your Father too seems not to force your Love,
And if Cesario comes with Conquest home,
The King's Consent perhaps may make you his.

Urania.
What Musick's that?

[Soft Musick within.
Ardel.
'Tis with Prince Ferdinand.

Uran.
Musick from Ferdinand!
The Groans of tortur'd Ghosts were Airs more pleasing.

SONG within.
[Here enters Ferdinand, who stands gazing on Urania.

Urania.
Now, now begins my Horrour:
The fatal Bell, shou'd it proclaim my Death,
Were Sphere-like Musick to this Night-Crow's Voice.

Ferdinand.
Still, my Urania, still that angry Brow,
Dearer than Life, but Oh, more cold than Death!
Thou fair Insensible, still deaf to all
My Sighs, my Vows, my Prayers, Prayers that move Gods,
And melt down Blessings even from Heav'n, are Eloquence
Too weak to touch the more adored Urania.

Uran.
Oh Ferdinand, why do you still pursue
Your hopeless Suit, how oft have I deny'd you?
Nay, when Denials, those rough Arguments,
Have been but unsuccessful Orators,
What soft Intreaties have I gently murmur'd,
To lull that Passion which but only wakes
To rack your Quiet, and to ruine mine!

Ferd.
Too cruel Fair!

Uran.
I know, great Prince, you are the Man design'd,
By my most Royal Father, for my Husband;
But wou'd you wed my Person without Love?
There are a Thousand Beauties wou'd affect you;
Beauties, whose Charms do far exceed Urania's,
And would be happy in so brave a Prince.

Ferd.
Why do you treat me thus like cruel Judges,
Who speak them fairest whom they mean shou'd die?
What Charms can ever equal bright Urania's?
Or who (indeed) is worthy to possess 'em?
Were I the Glorious Monarch of the Skies,
By Heav'n, I'd place my Thunder in thy Hand;
Make Nature and her Laws owne thy Command;
Mount thee aloft on my proud Eagle's Wings;
Whilst all my lesser Gods, like Captive Kings,
And fawning Courtiers, fill'd thy shining Train;
Thou o'er thy Jove so Absolute shou'dst Reign:
To kiss thy Feet my Heavens should Homage pay:
And crowding Stars make a new Milky Way.

Uran.
Forbear this Language I with Horrour hear:
Alas, I've made a strict and solemn Vow.

Ferd.
A Vow! to what? to whom? Ah speak!

Uran.
To one who merits all that I can give.
To one that long has kept my Heart a Pris'ner:
With whom I've vow'd it shall remain for ever;
Make me not perjur'd, keep your Kindness in,
For Love and I must never meet agen.

Ferd.
What murd'ring Sounds are these! and must this happy,
Blest, Cursed Rival have more Pow'r than I?

Uran.
Pardon me, Sir, when I am bound to say,
And die to prove it true:
Not all the Sun sees must alter me;
Not Empires buy my Love, nor Tortures force it.

Ferd.
I feel an Ice, creeping through all my Veins,
That more than killing Winter-blast, that chills
My crusting Blood, and turns me into Marble.
Speak, speak, Urania, whilst I've sence to hear;
Who is this curst Invader of my Right?

Uran.
'Tis you that are the Invader of his Right;
For e'er I thought or heard of Ferdinand,
I'd treasur'd up my Soul in dear Cesario.

Ferd.
Cesario, ha, is he my happy Rival?
Can you then stoop so low to love a Subject,
And slight the proffer'd Greatness of a Crown?
Yet, yet, Urania, call up Noble Thoughts;
Think of a Crown.

Uran.
A Crown, a Glittering Trifle,
On which a Love like mine looks down with Scorn,
And thinks it greater Pleasure in a Cottage;
An humble Shepherdess with my Cesario,
Than Reign the Empress of the Gawdy East
In any others Arms. You have my Answer;
And if my Father will not give Consent,
The Coals the Roman Portia did devour,
Are not blown out, Steel holds its Temper still:
Nay there are Thousand ways to let out Life,
And I dare die for him.
[Exit Uran.

Ferd.
Did my Stars owe me this! Oh! I could curse 'em!
And from my tortured Heart exhale those Vapours,
Those Sulphur-Fumes from the black Hell within me,
With Execration that should blast the Day,
And darken all the World.
Enter Oswell.
Who's there? my Oswell?

Oswell.
Ever your Creature, Sir, but much concern'd
To find this Alteration in your Looks.

Ferd.
Thou wouldst not wonder, didst thou know the Cause:
The bright Urania, she whose spreading Fame
Drew me from Thessaly to view that Beauty
So much admired by every neighb'ring Prince:
Whom when I saw I scarce could think her mortal.
Something so all Divine shot from those Eyes,
That I had not the Power to stand before 'em.
Our Fathers both consented to the Match;
But she, that cruel Fair, is still impenetrable;
Minds not my Passion, slights my proffer'd Glory,
Dotes on a Subject, one below my Birth:
Flies, with Disdain, from the true Flame I bring,
To light her humble Taper at a Gloe-worm.

Osw.
'Tis very strange the great Prince Ferdinand,
With all his prosperous Fortunes cannot thaw her.

Ferd.
The fatal Cause of all her Scorn's too plain.
This fair infatuated Charmer
Dotes on Cesario, on her Father's General,
Whose threatning Power stands like a flaming Sword,
To stop my Entrance into Paradise;
He's now imploy'd 'gainst the Sicilian King,
And whilst he conquers, Ferdinand is lost.

Osw.
I rather think you should with Joy receive him,
Who comes a Conqu'ror from her Father's Enemy.

Ferd.
If he comes home with Victory, the King
And his wife State must give him Thanks, the People
Giddily run to meet the Conquerour,
And owe their Lives and Safeties to his Triumph.
But where am I? what Peace brings it to me?
What Blessing is't to hear the popular Voice,
The echoing Crowd, with all their barbarous Throats,
Shoot their wild Joys to Heaven, and I in Torment?
Certain to lose my Hopes in fair Urania.

Osw.
There may be ways at home to remove him,
And place you in your Wishes; but, my Lord,
Whatever Spight you owe his prosp'rous Love,
'Tis hard to envy him his Sword's Success.
For should that fail, a Kingdom might be lost.

Ferd.
A Kingdom! Death! were the whole World at stake,
How light the balanc'd Universe would weigh
With the Possession of the fair Urania!
Such Beauty, and such Charms,—I shall run mad,
And my Desires, by opposition, grow more violent,
And without vent will burst me.

Osw.
Who could have thought a Masculine Soul, like yours,
Should sink beneath a Shock so feeble,
Shall this poor Diminutive thing, this little Rival,
Whom with your Breath you may blow out o'th' World,
Raise such a storm within you?

Ferd.
No, he sha'not.
I've found my self again, and will be calm:
No, thou too pityless Urania, spight
Of all my lowring Fate, my unkind Planets,
And those fair, cruel Eyes, my angry Stars,
I will not lose my hold.

Enter Fabio.
Ferd.
How now, what News with you?

Fabio.

An't please your Grace, an humble Creature of yours, proud
o'th' least Occasion, to express how faithfully my Heart is fixt to serve
you.

Ferd.
What's your Business?

Fab.
I have Business of some Consequence;
I had not been so bold else to disturb your Princely Conference,
For I durst never assume that impudent Garb,
That other Courtiers are known by;
My Devotion has been still t'appear
In modest Services.

Ferd.
Well, Sir, to'th' Point.

Fab.
It were a Point of deep Neglect, to keep
Your Grace in Expectation, yet Delays
Make Joys the sweeter; Arrows that fly compass
Arrive with as much Happiness to the Mark,
As those that are shot point-blank.

Ferd.
This Courtier loves to hear himself talk;
Be not so impertinent, we know your Care.

Fab.
And Cost, my Lord, I hope:
For they that hold Intelligence abroad
To benefit their Countrey, must not make
Idols of their Estates, and 'tis a Happiness
To sell their Fortunes for their Prince's Smiles;
Which I am confident you will vouchsafe,
When you have heard my News.

Ferd.
Would you'd vouchsafe to let me hear it.

Fab.
Vouchsafe, my Lord, alas,
You may command my Tongue, my Hands, my Feet,
My Head, I should account that Limb superfluous,
That would not be cut off to do you Service.

Ferd.
I do command thee Silence; dost hear? Silence.

Fab.
Silence, my Good Lord, is a Vertue I know;
But where the Tongue has something to deliver,
That may delight my Prince's Ear, and so forth.

Ferd.
'sDeath, Dog! Torment me not, but tell your News!

Fab.
My News, my good Lord, concerns the General.

Ferd.
What of him? Is he kill'd?

Fab.
The Stars forbid! he is return'd, my Lord,
Triumphant, Brave and Glorious.

Ferd.
Be dumb.
Another Syllable I'll have thy Tongue out.

Fab.
My Tongue, my Lord.

Ferd.
Thy Tongue, my buzzing Flesh-fly.
Was all your Circumstance for this? Begone.

Fab.
It would be a Piece of Rudeness, my Lord,
Unpardonable not to obey a Prince;
For your Grace is sensible, That to we Courtiers
The Tongue is so very useful a Member—

Ferd.
Slave,
[Ex. Fab. bowing.
Am I become a Jesting-stock for Fools?

Oswell.
My Lord, you are too open-breasted,
To let this Fellow see into your Heart;
Wise Men disguise their Councels till things are ripe.

Ferd.
The News has rent my Soul.
I feel new Armies in my Breast, Swords, Javelins,
All a whole Field of clashing War within me;
But ha, the King! the Subtilty of Serpents
Inspire me now, and something below Man,
Spight, Malice, Woman's Malice enter here.

Enter the King.
King.
Oh Ferdinand! I am all Joy:
Cesario, beloved Cesario, is return'd with Conquest,
And Sicily no more dares be our Foe;
Cesario's Sword cuts with so keen an Edge,
And drives that formidable Fame before him,
His very Name alone, without an Army,
Is more than half the Conquerour.

Ferd.
His Name alone, my Lord, though he have conquer'd;
We must consider, Sir, your Soldiers Courage:
Their Valour stands the Basis of his Pyramid:
Their Sweat and Blood that Crown'd him: but alas!
All the whole Trophies of a conquer'd Field,
Wreath only Garlands for the Leaders Brow;
The General's still the mighty Man, he wears
The Conqu'ring Bays, whose Wounds soever pay for't;
Whilst the poor Soldier, like the Slave i'th' Mine,
Bears the least part of the rich Oar he digs for.

King.
How, Ferdinand?

Ferd.
Nay, Sir, I do not envy him.

King.
You envy him, indeed, I hope you do not,
Since 'twas for me he fought, and for his Country.

Ferd.
Right, 'twas for you he fought, and 'tis the Cause
That often prospers, which, without his Valour,
Had stood its own Defender, for there waits
A Guardian-Angel on a Righteous Cause,
And when that arms, Heaven battels on its side.

King.
In all this ill-timed Rhetorick, methinks
You speak as if you envy'd his Success,
And wear a Face of Sorrow for his Fortune.

Ferd.
Who, I, my gracious Lord?

King.
Yes you, my Lord;
Speak, tell me, does he not deserve all Honours
That I can give, or he has Power to ask.

Ferd.
Indeed I think he does not.

King.
Ha! what's that?

Ferd.
Pardon me, Royal Sir, and hear me Speak:
If Subjects spend their Blood in their Kings Cause,
Forbid it Heaven they should not be rewarded:
But how, or what Rewards must they expect?
Wou'd you, in Recompence of this his Conquest,
Give him your Crown?

King.
No, Sir, nor wou'd he ask it.

Ferd.
How know you that!

King.
I know him to be Loyal;
Know that he wears a Sword which only fights
For his King's Honour, and his Country's Safety,
Whilst his clear Soul runs purer than to suck
A Poyson from that cankered Weed, Ambition.

Ferd.
I think otherwise,
And, wou'd you give me leave, can prove it to you.
You know not, Sir, how high his Fancy soars,
Or to what Pitch his towring Pride wou'd reach;
For he that aims to be his Monarch's Son,
Would never rest till he had gain'd his Crown.

King.
My Lord, this Riddle wants an OEdipus,
For 'tis beyond my Fathom to expound it.
But were Cesario Guilty of such Baseness,
I would esteem him as my greatest Foe,
And drive him from my Bosom as Infectious;
As a Crown'd Head I owe my self that Justice.

Ferd.
Then I dare boldly speak; you know, my Liege,
By a King's Sacred Promise you are bound,
To make Urania mine. Would it not be a stain
Upon your Royal Name, to have a Subject,
Spight of his great Master's Vow,
By treacherous Ways, to gain his Daughter's Love,
And make himself, by stealth, your Kingdoms Heir?

King.
Who is it dares do that?

Ferd.
That dares Cesario:
By Heaven, Urania own'd a Love for him;
Own'd it to me, who wooed by your Permission;
And if you meet his Conquests with this Triumph,
'Twill make your Subjects think he does deserve her:
The Army then will pay him, not you, Homage,
And every Voice sound nought but proud Cesario.

King.
Can this be true?

Ferd.
Your Daughter will confess it;
And if you mount his airy Thoughts too high,
He himself will not blush to ask her of you.

King.
By Heaven, I will prevent that Insolence.
Have I been prodigal in's Praise for this?
Yes, he shall be received. Who waits?

Enter Fabio.
Fabio.
My Lord!

King.
Speak, is Cesario with the Army near?

Fab.
My Lord, as I'm inform'd, and commonly
My Information's good, he does not want
A full Days March, and will be here to night.

King.
Give Order that no Man go forth to meet him,
Until our Pleasure's further known. Command
The Governour place a Guard about the Gates;
Let no Man's Face appear upon your Life.

Fab.
Why, does your Majesty think I will fail
In the Performance of your Orders? No!
When I do that, may I—

King.
Begone, I say, and fool some other time.
[Exit Fab.
Who wou'd repose in Man, whose vast Ambition,
Wou'd strive to mount above the Rebel-Giants
Cesario, I will quell thy haughty Pride,
Who durst attempt the Daughter of thy King;
Yet she too owns a fault that equals thine.
Degenerate Princess, can such Low-born Passion
Stir this course Ferment in thy Royal Blood!
Run thy rich Veins no purer, Folly, Frailty, Frenzy!
Oh Woman! Woman, to thy share they fall;
Thou sweep'st the Heap, and hast engross'd 'em all.

Exeunt.