University of Virginia Library

ACT the Second.

[Scene the First.]

Enter Nigrello and Aphelia.
Aph.
But why, Sir, would the Prince make this Night-visit?
He knows my Virtue, knows my Honour is
My Guard; but such a Guard, as he may pass
If he but give the word, when light and day
Give his access and honourable title.
Why this dark minute for an interview;
The Visits which we made, the Sun still knew.
My Love and I have met under his Beams;
But ne're by Night before, unless in Dreams.
And those so pure, so innocent
As slumbring Vestals would not blush to own;
When wearied, they for a short rest retire
To gain new strength to tend the sacred fire.

Nigr.
Yours, And your Princes honour is so firm,
That privacy and Night can add no stains
To Virtues so unfullied; and the cause
Why he requests this solitary meeting, is,
To tell you France beholds his growing lustre
With wondring eyes, and their unmannerd zeal
Designs to match him with th'Infanta of Spain;
The hopes of which Alliance, and the fear
Of your too powerful Influence o're his heart,
Which some Court-spyes have by their arts discover'd,
Have shrunk your Beauties estimate: Your Eyes
Are look'd upon as Comets, that design
A Nations hurt, grown fatal where they shine.
Their Malice has with their new Hopes conspired:
They look with hate on what they once admired.

Aph.
And is the Prince too joyn'd in this new Change?
Are his looks alter'd too?

Nigr.
No; nor his Heart:
He thinks with scorn on their unwelcome kindness,
And begs this private conference to tell you
How much of Fate in your great Beauty lives,
And what irrevocable dooms it gives.
His Love is moved by Destiny, not Chance;
He'l Marry you, and blast the hopes of France.

Aph.
A Love so pure, a bliss so high—Lead on.
Where such Light shines, all fears and Clouds are gon.

(Aside)Nigr.
Oh admirable Villany! Revenge
Does feed on Ruine. Ruines are
Its Food and Life; it flourishes as they
Who living on Sea-coasts, for Tempests pray.
When against Rocks some wealthy Vessel cracks,
They run to shore, and are made rich by wracks.

Exeunt.

Scene the Second:

Enter Clotair, Lewis, Fredigond, Dumane, Lamot, and Guards.
Clotair.
Horrour and death! My Royal Father Poyson'd!

Lew.
Oh dismal fatal hour!

Queen.
My Childrick dead!

Lam.
Have patience Royal Madam.

Queen.
Stand off.
Preach Patience to the Sea, when the rude winds
Swell her Ambitious Billows 'bove the Clouds;
And if thou tutour'st them to peace and silence,
I'le be as calme as they.

Clotair.
The Treason visible, and not the Traytor!

Queen.
Ignorance darkens Hell. Doubt you the Traytors.
I've brought a pair of Vipers to the Court;
Warm'd and reliev'd them, that their sting might kill us.
Who could be Authours of this deed but they?
'Tis his new bosome-Friends have Murder'd him.

Clot.
Our Guards?
Lay hands upon the Traytors.

Lam.
Oh Dumane,
We are betray'd.

Dum.
There's justice in our Cause,
Why not our Swords? I'le dye before I'le yeild.

Lam.
Than dye by me.
Yeild up your Sword, or you shall fall by mine.

The Guards seize'em.
Dum.
Must we be Prisoners then, and Traytors too?

Lam.
No: The first name's enough, a name too harsh
For Souldiers,
Did not our King command it; and the last
Too horrid for Man-kind, or ought but Devil.
The disobeying of a King's so heinous
That you deserved your death for your resistance.
His will is, we are Prisoners; but for Traytors,
Poysoners of Kings: Know mighty Prince, and You
Whom Blood and Duty bids our King call Mother,
We're injur'd, basely wrong'd. Madam from you—

Queen.
Yes, 'tis from Me you have receiv'd the name
Of Murderers; if you acquit your selves
I shall be still the gracious Queen I was;
Till then expect—Oh my much injur'd Lord.
What Vengeance hangs upon the blood of Kings;
But what more heavy burden on my heart?
A load that sinks me. Go, convey'em hence;
Let'em be strictly guarded till to morrow.

Lam.
Fetters or Death are things that we can bear.

Dum.
'Tis not the Wrack that can our courage tame,
Our only Torture is a sullied Name.
The Queen well knows—

Queen.
Oh, Sir, command 'em hence.
I know too much to have so tame a sense
Of my dear Lords lou'd blood.

Lam.
But Sir—

Queen.
Away.
To Prison strait; they kill me if they stay.
Who patiently can brook a Traytors sight,
But they who in a Traytors Crimes delight.

Exeunt Dumane and Lamot forced out by the Guards. Enter Nigrello.
Clotair.
Madam, dry up your tears.
Expect to hear that Justice done, that's due
To a Murder'd Monarchs Blood, and Fathers too.
But to Aphelia first; if kind Nigrello
Be but successful in this Nights design,
This Night I'le in her Arms my Passion Crown.
But stay! My Father dyed but now; his Fate calls down
For thoughts of Vengeance, and my tender breast
Should be with dreams of piety possest:
With thoughts of Blood and Death, of Funeral Beds,
Of Martyr'd Monarchs, and of Traytors heads;
A Mothers Tears, and walking Fathers Ghost,
Disturb'd i'th' other world, for what in this was lost.
These should I think on; but to night sleep sorrow:
For Love to night, and for Revenge to morrow.
The world has much mistaken been, to say
That walking Spirits love the Night, not Day.
Prisoners as well in Dungeons may delight:
They're doom'd to shades, and therefore pleas'd with Light:
It is not Ghosts, but Lovers walk by Night.

Exit.
Manent onely Queen and Nigrello.
Queen.
Their Blood thou seest must for my Crimes be spilt:
Mine is the Innocence, and theirs the Guilt.
But hold Nigrello, say the Cloud we rais'd
Should be transparent, and my Arts that gave
'Em Fetters, have not pow'r to work a Grave.
Suppose they clear themselves. What though the King
Has in a heat of fury built his Faith
Upon my Tears, and has decreed their death:
Yet when he comes to a more calm debate,
His senses may be cleared, and we may find
His Justice, when more Tardy, is less blind.

Nigr.
Revenge that moves most slowly, is most wise:
When it has fiercest hands, has weakest eyes.

Queen.
But to dispel that fear, be it your care
To Poyson'em before their Tryal comes;
Which done, I will give out, and get it sworn
They Poyson'd their own selves; and chose that death
T'avoid those fiercer torments that they knew
Were to their guilt a Monarchs Murder due.
Do this, and we are safe: Perform this act,
And think what Debts you from your Queen contract.

Nigr.
It shall be done, and done without a pause;
Doubt not my Service in so great a Cause.
Exit Queen.
No, Monster-Woman, neither of'em Bleeds,
My Vengeance aimes at more Heroick deeds:
My Rage shall at the Heads of Princes flye;
'Tis thou, and thy Adulterate Race shall dye.

Exit.
Enter Lewis and Brisac.
Lew.
Your Sister not return'd yet? This late hour,
And her strange absence makes me all amazement.

Brisac.
My Father Sir, is all Distraction for her;
In pious Rage one while he storms at Her,
Another at the Court So far ith' Night,
And his Aphelia absent, he's undone.
Courts are no Sanctuaries, She no Vestal.
Then prays to Heav'n to mend the one, and guard
The other.

Lew.
For her Virtue, that I fear not.
I know, (whatever outward force may do,)
Within She has no Traytor. The Suns eye
Views not a fairer outside, nor can Heav'n
Inspire a brighter Soul.

Brisac.
But Sir, Nigrello
Has just now sent me word, that there's a business
Requires your Company, and mine to Night
In such a private Chamber; for there's something
That's near my Honour, and your Heart in danger.

Lew.
Then 'tis no idle fear: Shew me the place.
Ghosts keep your Beds, you Centinels of Night,
Goblins and Specters do not walk your round.
A general Lethargy seize on this hour,
Whilst I alone, the Watchman of the Night
Will wake in spight of Fate. Argus thy Eyes
To find Aphelia, and her Injuries.

Exeunt.
Enter Aphelia and Nigrello with a Light.
Aph.
Into what Labyrinth do you lead me, Sir?
Had you not used his Name, which is to Me
A strength 'gainst Terrour, and himself so good
Occasion cannot vary, nor the night,
Youth, nor his wilde desires; otherwise
A silent sorrow from my Eyes would steal
And tell sad stories for me.

Nigr.
You are too tender of your Honour Madam,
Leave your vain fears. The Prince has no desires
But what are just; nor does he own that heat,
Which were you Snow, would thaw a tear from you.

Aph.
Is this the place appointed?

Nigr.
Yes, I'le call him:
Here is a Book will bear you company
Till my return.
Hither I send the King; not that I mean
To give him time to cool his burning Lust,
For Lewis shall present him in the fact.
And thus I shall indear my self to both.
Lewis enraged, I'm certain will conceive
Such mortal hatred 'gainst his Lustful Brother,
For such an outrage offer'd to his Mistriss,
As will prepare his breast for the impressions
I must make there.
My skill must faile me, if I do not set
Thy Crown upon thy Brothers head. Clotair,
Thy Canker'd heart wants Lancing; and thy Brother
Shall by my Art, administer that cure
Which France will thank him for. Thy Mother too
With her Incarnate Devil Clarmount, shall be
The next whom my Revenge shall damne, if Hell
Be but as just as I; for 'tis their Right:
Hell then be kind, and let's joyn force to Night.

Exit.
Aph.
Poor Ravisht Philomel, thy Lot was ill
To meet that Violence from a Brother.

Enter Clotair in a Cloak. Aphelia sits down and Reads.
Clot.
She has Sworn Faith to Lewis, and to woe her
Into my Arms, (suppose 'twere possible,)
'Tis not a work of so few hours as I have
To accomplish it. The flattery of to morrow
Is a smooth Stile for a calm-blooded Lover.
But Seiges will not down with my Complexion:
She has tyed her Soul to Lewis, and a Parly
Will scarce get a Surrender of a heart
So fortified; how'ere win her I must:
And the most likely way to do't, is as
The World was Conquer'd once: He was the Man
That cut that Knot which was too hard t'untye.
I must confess I've read that Force in Love's
A sin that forfeits Souls: But She's so fair,
The pleasure can't be bought too dear.

Aph.
I feel my heart burden'd with something ominous.
What if Nigrello should play foul, and this
Expected Lover should not be the Prince?
I dare not stand the hazard; guide me Light.

Offers to go.
Clot.
I must be Resolute. Fair Lady—

Aph.
What Man art thou
That hidest thy face from Darkness, and the Night?
What art thou? speak: And wherefore comest thou hither?

Clot.
I come to find one Beautiful as thou art;
And am a Man willing to please a Woman.

Aph.
I understand you not.

Clot.
I will instruct you:
And 'tis so smooth a Lesson, and so easie,
That a good will is all the pains in learning it.
And when once learnt, the Pleasure is so sweet,
The Practice so delightful, that not the
Worst memory in all our Sex could e're
Forget it. Come dear Madam, closer yet;
And let our Souls lodge in our sence.

Aph.
Help, help.

Clot.
None of your Clamours, Lady.
[Draws his Dagger.
If you rise one note higher, you see your Death.

Aph.
What Violence is this? Why do you wrack me thus?
My hands are guilty of Crime; do not torment 'em.
My heart and they have joyn'd in Prayers together
For Mankind that is Holy; if in that act
They have not pray'd for you, mend and be good,
The fault is none of theirs.

Clot.
Come, do not seem
More holy than you are: I know your heart.

Aph.
Let your Dagger too, Noble Sir, strike home,
And Sacrifice a Soul to Chastity,
As pure and spotless as her Innocence.

Clot.
This is not the best way.—
[Undisguises.
Know you Me, Madam?

Aph.
The Majesty of France.

Clot.
Be not afraid.

Aph.
I dare not fear; 'tis Treason to suspect
My King can think an ill, much worse to act it.
I know you're Godlike good, and have but tryed.
How far weak Woman could be Virtuous.

Clot.
Pretty Simplicity, thou art deceiv'd;
Thy Wit as well as Beauty wounds me.
It is thy Virtue moves me, and thy Goodness.
Tempts me to acts of Evil: Wert thou bad,
Or loose in thy Desires, I then could stand
And only gaze, not surfeit on thy Beauty.
But as thou art, there's Witchcraft in thy face:
I must enjoy thee, or not thou thy Life.

Enter Lewis and Brisac to the door.
Aph.
You are my King, and may command my Life;
My Will to sin you cannot. You may force
Unhallowd deeds upon me, spot my fame.
And when you've done this Irreligious deed,
What Trophy, or what Triumph will it bring
More then a living scorn upon your Name?
The Ashes in your Urne will suffer for't.
Virgins will sow their Curses on your Grave,
Time blot your Princely Parentage, and call
Your very Birth in question. Do not think
This deed will lye conceal'd; for Kings appear
When great in sin,
Like to Prodigious Comets in the Aire,
At which all tongues are mute, all eyes do stare.

Clot.
I can endure no longer; I'm all fire.
Madam in vain—

Aph.
Hold, Royal Sir—

Clot.
No more.
I am resolved, and what I once resolve
Is in the Book of Fate: I must enjoy you,
And though by Force that blessing I extort,
Repine not at the loss of what, though Princes
Cannot restore, they can repay; for this
Stolne pleasure I'le be a Lover, Friend, and King.

Aph.
Do not mistake, great Sir,
These are too gentle names for Ravishers.
If you proceed, and this black Crime take wing,
You will be neither Lover, Friend, nor King.

Lew.
Hold, hold, my heart. Can I endure—Unhand me,
Lest I forget my self on thee.

Bris.
Good Sir
Remember 'tis your Brother, and the King.

Lew.
Oh that I could forget it, that I cou'd
Shake off my Duty, and renounce my Blood.
That like a Whirlwind, I might rush upon him
And bear him to Destruction.
Sir how can you
Abuse such Innocence? is't not enough
That you have wrong'd Clotilda, Ravisht a Maid,
A Virgin of that Innocence of Life,
Might Saint her here on earth: But you must add
To your first Crime a second Violence,
The Gods must not forgive?

Enter Nigrello.
Clot.
If you esteem
A Monarchs friendship worth a Subjects care,
Express your Zeal more mannerly; be a Brother,
And aid me in my desires.

Lew.
Be a Man,
And shake a Nature off will damn you.

Clot.
Traytor Boy,
Thy Fate moves in those words.

Draws.
Lew.
And is it so?
Then King defend thy Life, for I am swift
As Lightning, or the thought that Executes.

[Draws.
Brisac.
Hold, hold my Lord, forbear.

Aph.
Help, help.

Enter Fredigond, Clarmount, Burbon, and Attendants.
Nigr.
Lewis o're acts the part that I design'd him,
For if he falls I'm lost.

They fight, and Lewis falls.
Aph.
Oh my unhappy Lord! Oh my swolne heart!

Queen.
Oh bloody King. Thy hand has made those wounds,
For which the Vengeance of a Mothers Curse,
Abler in operation then Lightning,
Strike through thy body, every Limb a Death.
A Husband, and a Son, lost in one Night.

Nigr.
Damne her false tears; she's glad he is dead.

Aph.
Now you have kill'd him, wherefore do I live.

Clot.
Remove that Syren from our wandring Eyes,
And house her in a Dungeon.

[To Burbon.
Aph.
A Dungeon Sir—you and my Stars are kind,
If in that Dungeon I a Grave may find.
How great will Fame proclaim you, if your Breath
Be but propitious, and pronounce my Death?
What different Fates can Majesty decree?
Your Cruelty kills him, your Kindness me.

[Exit. Let out by Burbon.
Nigr.
Great Sir, I have a boon to beg.

Clot.
What is't?

Nigr.
The body of the Prince.
I beg the ordering those Funeral Rites
Which his high Birth deserves.

Clot.
That care be thine.

Queen.
Oh thou Inhumane bloody Tyrant—

Clot.
Mother,
Bestow your tears on those whom they can melt,
I am too hard for pitty.
And scorn to have my thoughts so ill employd,
To mourn for what my justice has destroy'd.

Exit.
Nigr.
Dear Lewis,
The Glory I intended thee, the punishment
Of a base Tyrants Crimes chance has prevented.
But what I left
Unpay'd to thee; I'le to thy Ghost make good,
Appease it first with Tears, and then with Blood.

Exit with the Guards who carry off Lewis.
Manent onely Fredigond, and Clarmount.
Fredig.
Now we begin to flourish, this black Night
Is only lighted by our Stars that smile
Upon these actions, and rejoyce to see
Thee our dear Favourite so near a Crown.
But tell me Clarmount, how did I act the Mother?

Clar.
You wept for certain.

Queen.
Yes, as an Actor in a Play would do.

Clarm.
And I me-thinks could write you Subjects too.
I'de teach you Love, whose universal pow'r does rule
Far as the Light; equal in Cell and Court,
Love the Worlds business, and the Stages sport.

Enter Nigrello.
Queen.
And Sir, to shew how apt a Scholar I'le be,
At Night, make me a visit and instruct me.
The Courts disorder for these late mischances,
By kind Nigrelloes help and your Disguise,
Renders your Visits easie and unsuspected.
Then all our Cares, a quiet rest shall take.
All other Passions sleep when Love's awake.

Exeunt Clarmount and Fredigond.
Nigr.
There you shall sleep your last: I'le to the King,
And he shall take you in the very act.
And that I may not seem the unkind discoverer
Of his Dishonour, and his Mothers Guilt,
I'le set on fire the Queens Apartment,
That so I may disturb 'em more securely,
And yet the Plot not mine. I'le tell the King,
Unless there's present help, his Mother burns.
Waked by the Alarme
Of such a bold intruder as the Fire,
I'le scorch the sweating Satyr from his den,
Till the rowz'd Monster to escape that Fate,
Shall rush into th'Kings very Armes, a toyle
That's strong enough to hold him; if there's Gall
Or Honour in a Tyrants breast to punish
So infamous and publick a disgrace
T'extract a Letcher from a Flaming Bed;
A rare Alembick, excellent Chymistry.
All my misfortune is, I must my self
Be an assistant to this amourous meeting;
A kind Procurer to a Royal Strumpet.
But let that pass; for an exployt so rare,
There is no dress, But what Revenge dares wear.

Exit.