University of Virginia Library

Act II.

Scene I.

The Scene is a very pleasant Garden; in the midst of the great Walk is a Fountain, and on each side the Stage large Figures, standing in Shells, at the farther end is fill'd with Cascades.
Enter Amarante and Ragusa.
Amar.
Where is the pretty Talking Boy, Ragusa,
I entertained this Morning?

Rag.
He follow'd you into the Garden Madam.

Amar.
And have you seen him Cloath'd?

Rag.
As you commanded.
I think you've well bestow'd your Charity.

Amar.
'Twas pity he shou'd have remain'd a Beggar;
Each word he speakes, methinks gives Harmony,
Pray call him hither, for I love to see him.

Enter Seraphino, like a Page.
Rag.
He's coming this way, Madam.

Amar.
Come hither, Seraphino.

Sera.
Most honoured Lady, I attend your pleasure

Amar.
Thy voice sends forth such Musick, that I never
Was Ravisht with a more Celestial Sound,
Were every Servant in the World like thee,
So full of Goodness, Angels wou'd come down
To dwell with us; in this short day thou'st given me,
More pleasure then my Life produced before;
But it grows late, I'd have thee go to rest,
I fear thy Youth cannot dispence with watching.

Sera.
O my dear Lady; I could weary Stars;
And force the wake full Moon to lose her Eyes,
To watch and wait by you, I'm blest, when with you,
Therefore my most loved Lady, do not bid
Your Boy that loves you to depart from you,
For then you'll break his heart.

Amar.
Be nigh me still then,
In Golden Letters I'll set down this day
Which gave thee to me; little did I think
To meet such Worlds of comfort in a Child,
When I beheld my little Beggar boy
Craving an Almes, which I with Joy bestow'd!
I did believe thou'sd prove my chief delight.

Sera.
I shall be proud if my poor weak endeavours
Can please so good a Mistress.

Amar.
I have offer'd
Handfuls of Gold but to behold thy Parents,
I prithee, my dear boy, let me but see 'em,
Come, be not ashamed.

Sera.
I am not. I did never
Know who my Mother was, but by yon Pallace
Till'd with Celestial Courtiers, I dare assure you
My Father is in Heaven, and, Noble Mistress,
If your Bright hour Glass do spend its sand
No worse then it does now, upon my life
You and I both shall meet my Father there,
And he shall bid us welcome.

Amar.
Pretty Child, how Charming is his Language.
Enter Spungius and Hercius.
Now, Sirs, have you disposed my Charity as I ordered?

Spun.
Disposed it, yes Madam, we have disposed it;
For my part, Madam, I'm amazed at your Ladiships
Bounty, here have you out of your own Pocket
To day, reliev'd at least half a dozen Prisoners,
And this you think is Charity, when to my knowledge
Half of 'em eat well from the Basket before,
And now they're out they can't tell where to get a dinner.

Her.
Ay ay, Madam, my Fellow Spungius says
True, here do you Fast, and Pray, and give to
The Poor to save their Souls, while they are
Cursing, Swearing, Eating and Drinking, to
Preserve their Bodies.

Ama.
How dare you call my Charity in question?

Sera,
My fellow servants, I wou'd have you all
Pitty the Poor, think of the many Blessings
That wait upon the Charitable hand,
The riches that you will enjoy hereafter
For a small mite bestowed upon the needy.

Amar.
'Tis well said, Seraphim, and be sure
You follow his good counsel.

Har,
Hark'e Brother Spungius, who is this whipster

Spun.
Peace, peace, 'tis my Lady's Page, she found
Him mumping at the Temple dore this Morning,
And out of his patches of Canvas and Bucknam,
She has put him into Silks and Satten.

Her.

Ay ay, Brother, she's a Charitable Woman, rest her Soul,
She took us from the Gallows as I take it, and instead
of a Brace of Halters about our necks, bestowed a brace of Gold
Liveries upon our Backs.

Spun.
We must have a great care Hercius how we talk,
For that's a Develish religious young spark,
He has entertain'd my Lady all this morning
With nothing but discourses of Elizium.

Her.
Elizium, Prithee what's that,

Spun.
Nay, Faith I can't tell, he says he'l give us
An account of it one time or other.

Amar.
Come, Dear Augusta, the Air methinks grows cold,
Let's in.

Rag.
Walk this way, Madam, for if I mistake not,
I see my Lord Arsaracus coming yonder.
His looks are full of Joy, I hope, Ragusa,
He brings some News of my dear Lord's return.

Ragu.
Pray Heaven he may, for I am still in fear
His flighted love at last may turn to hate.

Enter Arsaracus.
Arsa.
Madam, I beg you'd pardon this intrusion,
But I have news will give you double Joy:
The dazling Vertues that enrich your mind,
Has turn'd the Love which was by you despis'd
To true repentance, for my great presumption.

Joanna.
O, cou'd I but believe your words were real,
Cou'd I but think you had Master'd your wild passion,
I shou'd with Joy, not Anger, look upon you.

Rich.
Then on my Knees, behold me a true Convert,
My stragling thoughts of honour all call'd back,
My Duty and Alleigance sizt so firm,
That Heaven it self applauds, and Hell cant change it.

Sera.
Heaven knows thy heart, but Hell commands thy actions.

Rich.
Now, Madam, since I have with humblest duty
Express'd my sorrow for my bold presumption,
I hope you will recall your wonted goodness.
And thô I have err'd, make not my error known
To my much injur'd Prince, and Royal Friend,
Who is Arrived, and with impatience Lost,
Directs his steps this way.

Joanna.
Ha! What said you?
Is my dear Lord in safety then return'd?
Oh! for thy News be all thy faults forgotten;
For what thou hast said, brings to my heart more Joy
Then thy ten welcome Love, before brought horror.

Rich.
The Shouts and Trumpets do proclaim him near;
May you be still a blest and happy pair
While life does last, and Hell make hast to part you.

(Aside.
Trumpets sound, Enter Locrinus attended.
Locri.
Enough good Heaven, You'ave recompenc'd my pains.
The Toils, the Hardships and the many dangers
I have pass'd through you now have well rewarded.
So when the Soul is from the body fled,
Driven by Convulsive torments from its mansion,
Is of a sudden snatcht to endless bliss,
And all the wounds that it received on Earth,
Healed at last by the sweet balm of Heaven.

Amar.
Oh! My dear Prince, my ever honour'd Lord,
Your sight brings joys to great to be express'd.
Now farewel all my fears, all my disquiets,
You like the Sun have chased those Clouds away,
That hung between my happiness and me.

Locri.
Durst any sawcy fear invade thy breast,
A Mansion fit for Angels to inhabit.
O let no Cares ever approach my fair one,
The burthen of thy sorrows lay on me,
And all the blessings of the World be thine.

Arsar.
Ten Thousand welcomes to my much lov'd Lord,
And may success still wait upon his Armes,
May he continue still the pride of Europe,
And Love and Conquest Crown his Youthful brows.

Locri.
Arsaracus, my best and truest Friend,
Thou faithful Guardian of this most loved Treasure.
Were I the Monarch of this Glorious Island,
Nay, were the Universe at my dispose
I cou'd not in that vast extent of Riches
Find out a Recompence for all thy care.

Ars.
I am, my Lord, sufficiently rewarded,
The Joy of seeing you so safe return'd
Brings double blessings to your faithful Servant.

Sera.
Dissembling Hypocrite.

(Aside.
Ama.
My dearest Lord, the night comes fast upon us,
And the bleak Air compels us to withdraw.

Loc.
We will, my fairest; let me have one look more,
Here cou'd I grow, gaze upon thee ever,
For all the Beauties of thy Sex are in thee.
Devouring Cankers gnaw upon her Beauty,
Till she's despised, and scorned, as I am by her.

(Aside.
Locri.
Before the Sun has finish'd twice his course
I shall have full possession of my wishes.
The King my love, the King my Royal Father
Has given his Consent to make me happy,
And Crown my Joys with thy desired embraces.
Oh, the distracting hours that are to come,
Till Hymens Torch light to our Nuptial bed.
Impatience makes me angry with the Sun,
Who has so little care of longing Lovers,
As not to change his constant lazy course;
Were he a pitying God, he'd Lash his Steeds,
And drive his fiery Chariot with such hast,
That the Circumference of the mighty Globe
In one short hour shou'd be encompass'd round.

Amar.
Oh that your love wou'd keep thus firm for ever.
Forgive me, my dear Lord, forgive my fears,
I do not doubt your Faith, but my own Merits.

Locri.
Thou Sha't not doubt, I'm sure thou need'st not doubt,
For the Poles are not firmer fixt then I am;
Heaven, thô it cast our Bodies in two moulds,
Gave but one Soul, which cannot be divided.
We, my Joanna, the decrees of Fate
Shall first be blotted from their Sacred Roules.
Bright Phebas round the World refuse to move,
And cease to Shine, e'er I can cease to Love.

(Ex Manet Rich.
Arsa.
The Curse of Jealousie infect your minds,
But wherefore does the knawing VVorm despair,
Posses me now, now when my hopes stand fair
To ruin him, both in his Love and Fortune,
Coreb.

Enter Coreb.
Cor.
My Lord.

Arsa.
My ever faithful Friend
Now is the time, now if thou would'st assist me
Lend me thy speedy Counsel what to do

Cor.
My Lord, I have follow'd hither to your fortunes,
And cannot rest till I have shewn my self
What I profes, your true and faithful Servant.
I see the Princes Love is desperate, but withal,
I see a way to quench his violent flame,
As thus;
We must infect his mind with Jealousie.

Arsa.
That be your task; the rest let me perform.

Rich.
What dost thou mean? Which way can he be jealous
That has the heart of one chast as Diana.

Cor.
The Young Lord Soizinus is an instrument
the fittest we can work on. I will find
A menas to bribe her Servant, i'th' mean time
Do you endeavour to Possess the Prince,
And nothing shall be wanting to your wishes.

Rich.
I will consider on't.

Cor.
It does not need.
Why are you melancholy, come, my Lord,
Sit down, I will divert your restless mind;
Where are my Damons, let me have Music there.
Still him if possible in spite of Love,
And let him nod into forgetfulness.

(He waves his wand, and behind the Fountain rises a Triton and a Sea Nymph, who sing a Dialogue.
A Dialogue between a Triton and a Nayad.
Triton.
Oh! Turn and be kind, my dear Nymph of the Flood
I burn in cold Water, Love's fire's in my blood.
At the bate of your Face some but nimble and look,
But I gap'd like a Gudgeon, and swallow'd the hook;
I was Jolly and Fat as a Porpus before,
But now no Red Herring's more shotten and poor;
Yet while I pursue you, you coldly cry pish,
Then Flounce, and away swim as mute as a Fish.

Nymph.
'Tis hard to swim against the stream,
Yet we must fly, tho' we esteem,
For, Triton, when a Nymph's your own
You wind your shelf, and then you're gon
To shun that ill, from you I'll keep,
And hide my blushes in the deep.

Triton.
Hold, hold, I'm a Pyrate, and make you my Prize,
Charm'd with those green Tresses, bright Scales, and blue Eyes,
Yet trust me, I'm constant, and hot as the Sun,
Each night to thy Bosome to cool me I'll run.

Nymph.
In the Evening hot, but cold next dawn,
You go, and leave us swell'd with spawn,
To keep you long none can prevail,
Your Slippery Eeles held by the tail.
To shun that fate from you i'll keep,
And hide my Blushes in the Deep.

Triton.
On a Bed of green Oose, Let me shew you a prize,
A Branch of rough Coral, and Pearls of huge size,
Go with me my dear, and this Coyness give over,
They're yours as a pledge of the warmth of your Lover.

CHORUS.
Nymph.
Oh do not leave strugling, I'll never give over.

Triton.
Nay prithee leave strugling, I'll never give over.

(Carries her away and plunges with her.
After the Dialogue rises eight Statues who leap of their Pedestals and Dance, after the Dance they sink with the Fountain.
Rich.
I thank thee, honest Coreb, for thy care,
How pass the hours.

Cor.
My Lord, 'tis almost Midnight,

Rich.
This is a time of rest for all but me,
Now the Day-labouring Souls are all refresht,
Pride, Pomp and Luxury are all withdrawn,
And Vanity a full cesation makes.
Lewdness it self at this time Lazy grows,
And the tired senses dose upon their pleasures;
The Atheist now grows Pall'd in wickedness,
And Slumbers o'er the scandal of his Spleen.
Even Murder's hush'd, Adultery secure
The Veil of Heaven to the utmost verge is stretch'd,
And the high noon of Darkness lulls the World.
O Love! When art thou hush'd, or when art hid,
Arts utmost subtilty is lost on thee,
And spight of all descretion, in thy Eyes
Ten Thousand Tel-tales bark in thy hot beams,
But I'll no more indulge the vanity
of this proud fair, she shall be mine or die.
If I find she's not for me decreed,
I'll Court Revenge, and smile to see her bleed.