University of Virginia Library

ACT the Third.

[Scene the First.]

After [Fire] cryed, Enter Clotair, Nigrello, Lords, and Guards.
Nigr.
Look how it flames, I fear some Trechery:
Beat at her Chamber door, cry it aloud,
And let your voyce be Thunder to this Lightning.

Guards.
Fire, Fire.

Clot.
Mother awake, lest you do sleep for ever;
Force open the door.

Guards.
Fire, Fire.

Nigr.
It's fortified against strength, you must call louder.

Clot.
Madam, awake, awake;
Your sleep was never so like Death as now.

Enter Fredigond above, in her Night-Gown.
Queen.
What Impudence is this, dares be so rude?
He had better rowz'd a sleeping Lyoness
Then thus have broke my slumbers. What art thou?

Clot.
Look!
The fire will give you light; 'tis I, your Son.
Fly from that Chamber or you're lost: The Court
Is all on Fire.

Queen.
Let it burn.
I've lost my Credit everlastingly.

[Aside.
Enter Clarmount above in a Night-Gown behind her.
(To the Queen)Clarm.
What shall we do in this Necessity?
We shall be taken, and you shamed for ever.
Let us bethink our selves; what shall we do?

Queen.
I know not what: Curse on this blazing light.
To Clar.
No Art, no Magick, no Devil of our side!—
To Clar.
Kind Fates, I have it—Clarmount, in my Closet
To Clar.
Lyes th'Habit that my Husband wore last Night
To Clar.
When he was Poyson'd; put on that, and with
To Clar.
Part of the same Disguise you enter'd in,
To Clar.
Make up the form of the dead King, which sight
To Clar.
With the surprize that I'le put on, shall so
To Clar.
Amaze him, till you have past by him safely.
To Clar.
Do not appear to me, I did not wrong thee,
Seek out the Beds of those that caus'd thy Death,
And howl to them thy pittiful Complaints.

Clot.
Whom do you hold discourse with, with the Ayre?

Queen.
Oh Son,
Such horrid Apparitions
Have I beheld, have quite unwitted me:
Your Fathers Ghost most terribly frightful
Has thrice this dismal Night appear'd to me:
In his right hand he bore a shining Cup,
Which to his mouth he rais'd with looks so gay,
As if he drank a health to some young Bride.
The aiery Potion drank, strait in a fume
He threw the seeming Goblet to the ground,
And with an alter'd look assumed a paleness
More death-like then the frost, his Age and Cares
Made him in Life-time wear: To Heav'n he pointed,
Thrice did he cry, Revenge; and at that word
Sprung through the Roof which now stands bare to Heav'n,
Where he did rain down Fire which here you see.

Clot.
Behold it comes.

Queen.
Oh fear it not my Son.

[Descends.
Enter Clarmount disguised in the habit of Childrick, his face discolour'd white.
Clot.
My Fathers form exactly, who could think
The Devil were so good at Picture-drawing.
Pray Heav'n he be not Ceremonious; for
I find my self but ill provided for
A Complement. If it be Injuries,
Break open Monuments, and disturb the Dead:
I'le see thy rights perform'd. If thou desirest
To be appeas'd with Blood, Blood thou shalt have:
Or if that's not enough, I'le build thee Temples.
Thou shalt have Altars, humane Sacrifices.
Do but depart; thy presence does not please me,
Thou art not Company for Flesh and Blood.

Exit Clarm.
Enter Queen below.
Queen.
How fares our Son?

Clot.
Fares Mother, as a Man
Would fare that never saw the Devil before:
He was a Stranger to me, and surpriz'd me.

Nigr.
The Villain has outwitted me.

[Aside.
Clot.
If Revenge
Manent only King, Queen, & Nigrel.
Will do the work; Nigrello bring the Prisoners.

Nigr.
Dumane Sir, and Lamot?

Clot.
Yes, them.

Nigr.
Oh Sir,
Your Princely care for your great Mothers danger
Diverted me from interrupting your
More pious thoughts, or else I had inform'd you
That but just now their Jaylour brought me word
That they have took a draught of Poyson (but
How got, he knows not) to escape those tortures,
It is imagin'd that their guilty Conscience
Expected would attend so damn'd a Crime:
They have prevented Justice, and are dead.

Clot.
Poyson'd, and dead!

Nigr.
Poyson'd, and Damn'd; for sure Heav'n that ordains
The Murderers of Kings such easie Deaths,
Designs the greater torments for their Souls.

Queen.
Poyson'd! By Poyson my great Lord expired.
Is Providence so barren to Decree
Martyr and Murderers one Destiny.
Heaven that fore sees the Falls, & Seals the Tombs
Of Monarchs, had decreed severer Dooms
For Traytors, had it felt my sufferings,
My griefs, my pains, my sense of Murder'd Kings.

[Exit.
Clot.
His Poysoners Dead, and yet his Ghost disturb'd!
Or are there more of the Conspiracy,
Whose Deaths his troubled shade comes to demand?

Nigr.
What shade?

Clot.
My Fathers Spirit, in his very habit;
Here from my Mothers Chamber it came forth.

Nigr.
His habit had it on; his very habit?

Clot.
His habit, so I say; the very dress
He wore last night, when the accursed Poyson
Impoverisht France to enrich Heaven.

Nigr.
That habit,
As I remember, was last night put off
In the Queens Bed-chamber; the King was in
Her Lodging seiz'd with the first pains of that
Outragious Poyson; in the mid'st of whose
Tormenting heat, in pious Duty,
T'administer some ease by th'help of Ayre.
His Garments from his Body we tore off.
Stript from which burden, to my certain knowledg
That habit never stir'd from thence till now.
And the Disguise his Ghostly Visage wore,
I'm confident was more Pleasant to the Queen
When't enter'd thither, though so terrible
When it departed thence—Ha, ha, ha,

Clot.
Why this ridiculous Mirth.

Nigr.
The Devil Sir, came from your Mothers Bed-chamber;
She can raise a Spirit.
But such an old, dry, hoary Apparition—
'Tis well 'twas but a Vision; for I know
So well her Constitution
That 'tis a younger substance must please Her.
But Clarmount, thanks t'his Stars under that frozen out side—

Clot.
How! What say you?

Nigr.
Sir, not t'abuse your Patience,
He has had as free access to her, as e're
Your Father had.

Clot.
But art thou sure on't?

Nigr.
Ha! What a look was there to ask that question!
[Aside.
Sir, if I've wrong'd your Honour or her Virtue,
May the just Gods—

Clot.
No troubling Heaven to witness it.
Tell me, art confident—

Nigr.
Of what?

Clot.
What have we
Been talking of? Th'intrigue between my Mother
And Clarmount.

Nigr.
By your unconcern for her
Dishonour, I suspect you understand me not.

Clot.
'Sdeath, but I do: Where lyes the Mystery?
My Mother holds an amorous League with Clarmount,
And the next Night after her Husbands Death,
Admitted him t'her Bed; and then for fear.
Of a Discovery, disguis'd him
In her Dead Husbands habit. Wit, I love thee:
By Heav'ns 'twas witty.

Nigr.
Does it please you Sir?

Clot.
Please me? Yes, above expression I would not
Have mist this knowledg for a Kingdoms wealth.
Good kind Informer, tell me, does she practise
These wanton Revels often? Bless my Eares
With the discovery; speak: is it often?

Nigr.
Sir, you amaze me to be thus transported:
I thought the news would not have been so welcome.

Clot.
Not welcome! Yes, I pardon her, and thank her.
I find the sin of Lust is not so Capital.
My Father but last Night by Poyson Dyed,
And I at the same time by Lust inflamed,
Left the concern due to a Fathers Murder,
To flye into a Mistresses embrace.
I but a Father lost; and by that loss
I gain'd a Throne: She lost a King and Husband,
And with that loss a Crown: Yet Love had power
To make her losses, King and Crown forget,
And the next Night flye to a Lovers Arms.
Why then should I be troubled; when my sin
(If it be one) runs in my Blood: My Mother
Was kind before me; and if
Such pleasant harmless Crimes must needs be punisht,
My Parents then
Ought to be sufferers for my Offences.
Nature's in fault; I act but what I'm born to.

Nigr.
Shall Clarmount live then; shall this Insolent Villain
Profane your Blood, and have his own unspilt?

Clot.
I hate th'Offender, though I love the Guilt.
She is my Mother, and her Favourites Blood
Must expiate the injuries of Majesty.
He dyes for't. Think not
Because I practise it, I can forgive it:
What Nature pardons, Honour punishes.
But say, how fares Aphelia?

Nigr.
Wrapt in sorrow,
As her ill fate requires.

Clot.
As so much Beauty
Does not deserve. I once was of a Nature
Unmoved by any thing in Woman-kind
But the Enjoyment. I esteem'd 'em Vassals
To our desires, not Soveraigns over 'em.
But why her Beauty, Virtue, or her wrongs
Have alter'd me, I know not, but am sensible
Of a strange Change, of which I feel th'effects,
But cannot tell the Cause; a shining light
Shoots through me, and my yeilding heart gives way:
Where the Usurping Guest raigns Lord, und I his Slave obey.

[Exit.
Nigr.
So far I'm happy. Clarmounts Doom is Sealed.
I know he has so much Honour, that I doubt not
His prosecution of so infamous
And black a guilt; and though his own stains cannot,
His Mothers I am sure will fret his Heart strings.

Enter Lewis disguis'd.
Lew.
My kind Preserver, my dear dear Nigrello.

Nigr.
Sir, your recovery to Life, the health
Of France, the Hopes of Kingdoms, and the pride
Of Europe—

Lew.
Hold Nigrello, by my life
That life I owe to thee, thou flatter'st me.
Heav'n when it gave me breath, ordain'd me for
My Countreys humble Slave; and now thou hast
Restored that Breath thy Creature.

Nigr.
Sir, no more.
The action has so well it self rewarded,
That I'm o'repaid with half this Complement.
But Sir, why do you walk abroad so soon,
Your wounds being so fresh, the Ayre may hurt you.

Lew.
Oh fear not that; the cause that brings me hither
Has perfected my cure. I come to ask
My fair Aphelias safety.

Nigr.
Sir, be satisfied.
Her Life, her Honour, and her Love are safe.
The King, 'tis true, Doats on her, even to madness.
After you had faln, and he had in blind rage
Sent her to Prison, toucht with sudden sense
Of his own Guilt, her Innocence and Wrongs,
And the bright stamp her Beauty had imprinted,
He's grown so Passionate and chang'd a Lover,
As't may be feared, that if no other means
Can conquer her, He'l Marry her, t'enjoy her.

Lew.
Marry her!
The voyce of Schreichowls o're the Graves of Traytors,
Is Musick to this Language.

Nigr.
Cease your fears;
Your Image in her Bosom, and my power
Step in between. A Crown can neither tempt her,
Nor shall he wrong her. Let my Arts alone
To countermine her Danger, and his Lust.

Lew.
Your Friendship kind Nigrello—

Nigr.
Call it Justice:
A Service due to injur'd Innocence.
But Sir, as I'm a suffering Ladys Champion,
Be you a bleeding Kingdoms. I've a story
Will wrack your Ears, and scorch your Royal blood
Into a Feavour. Dumane and Lamot,
The Kings suspected Murderers, you know
Were sent to Prison: But your Zealous Brother,
Out of a pious horrour even to hear
The story of a Fathers Death repeated,
Gave me Commission privately in Prison
To Poyson 'em before their Tryal came.

Lew.
Good Gods! what do I hear?

Nigr.
Then 'twas resolved
To have it publisht to the World they poyson'd
Themselves t'avoyd that certain Execution
It would be thought they expected and deserved.
And thus this Artifice, he imagin'd would
Silence all farther dangerous inquiries
Into so great a secret.

Lew.
Hell and Devils!
But kind Nigrello, as my preservation
Convinces me thou'rt honest, yet—

Nigr.
Yes Sir,
I guess your trouble, you would have me prove
This Imputation; yes, 'tis just I shou'd,
And though you've found me honest, yet believe
My honestly in such a weighty cause
No farther then your eyes. Then to convince you
That I had the disposal of their Lives,
Instead of Poysoning 'em, I have releast 'em.

Lew.
Releast 'em!

Nigr.
Yes, and satisfied the King,
(Whose confidence in my dispatch had made him
Apt for th'impression) that he thinks 'em dead.
And to confirm you, in few hours you'l hear
The train has took, and that the City's loud
With the discourse both of their Guilt and Deaths.

Lew.
Thou hast a Wit, great as thy Loyalty,
And their deliverance is a proof of both.
This process of a Fathers Death, has rowz'd
My Soul, and shew'd me Horrors in a shape
Too terrible to enter Loyal hearts,
And not bring thoughts of Vengeance with them. France,
'Tis I must disabuse thee.

Nigr.
Sir, the Prisoners
Thus Rescued, for my safety walk in Clouds,
And under borrow'd Names; they, I intend
Shall visit you, and make the business plain.

Lew.
My Resentments
Of my wrong'd Fathers death a while must pause,
I'le Right a Kings, but first a Mistress's Cause.

Nigr.
Sir, I'le contrive to place you where you'l hear
What passes the next interview between 'em:
But keep on your disguise, wear your Mask still;
'Tis not yet known you live, which if it were,
Your access would be difficult; besides
You'l have the greater tryal of her Faith
By th'greater hate she expresses to your Murd'rer,
Which your disclosed Recovery would frustrate.

Lew.
Do this, and I am blest. What scene of Love
Could be more pleasant? Be my self Spectatour
Of my Loves Funeral Rites? Behold the Tears
Aphelia pays my Tomb? What voyce more charming,
What nobler Monument? nay, what Bliss more high
Than Love paid to a Lovers Memory?
No Constancy like what Death cannot shake:
What Saint would not this Paradise forsake,
Could he invisibly to Earth return,
To see a faithful Mistress at his Urne?

[Exit.
Nigr.
How my designs succeeed? which that they're just
Heav'n by his preservation has confirm'd,
In saving of his Life to make him Agent
In my Revenge. The King, though I know he hates him,
VVill be extreamly glad of his Recovery,
If but t'appease his murmuring peoples Anger,
VVho he knows are more then Mourners for his Death.
And for the Prince, whose heart, my Services
To him and his Aphelia, have made mine,
His Mistress's Injuries, and Fathers Murder
VVhich I have artfully made the Kings Guilt,
VVill raise a fire within him
Too hot and fierce to smother, or be stopt
Till it break out in a Rebellion. VVhich
His Interest in the French hearts will animate.
VVhat could I wish for more, then to engage
The fury of a Kingdom in my Rage?

[Exit.

Scene the Second.

The Scene a Dungeon.
Aphelia is discover'd on a Couch.
Enter Clotair.
King.
Now I am justly punisht for my sins.
That Violence I offer'd to thy Honour,
Thou on my Breast hast acted; Ravisht thence
My Freedom and my Heart. All thoughts of rest,
And hopes of Peace are banisht from this Seat,
Thy Tyrant-pow'r has seiz'd. Nay Crown and Life
Turn Vassals; at thy feet they prostrate lye;
Yet though their Fall is low, their Object's high.
Though at thy Feet they humble homage pay,
Up to thy Eyes they look, the Heavens to which they pray.
And if she be not all Disdain, all Marble,
I'le shake her pious constancy to Lewis,
Make her admire my Love; if not reward it.

Aph.
The King!

[Rises.
King.
Is this a Lodging for so fair a Guest?
Is this a Shrine for such a Saint? Is this
A Temple fit for such a bright Divinity?
VVho waits without there?

Enter Burbon.
Burb.
Royal Sir, your pleasure?

King.
How came this Lady hither?

Burb.
By command
From you.

King.
Lyar and Slave, from Me!
[Strikes him.
My Guards there.
Enter Guards.
Here kill that Dog,—but stay—A death so gentle
VVould be an act of Mercy, not of Justice.
Oh impudence unpardonable!
I send so great a Beauty to a Dungeon!
Convey him hence, and let him dye by tortures,
Wrackt limb from limb, let his torn Carcass bleed;
And feel such pains so black a Guilt, and such
A Blasphemy deserves. A Dungeon!

Burb.
Hold great Sir, do but remember—

King.
Good Gods! The Traytor has the Impudence
To speak. Be gone. Has not thy tongue been guilty
Enough already, but thou still darest breath
After so damn'd a Lye. A Dungeon! Heav'ns!

Aph.
Let me, Sir, be his Advocate. Thus low—

kneels.
King.
Aphelia on her knees! That posture Madam,
From such a fair Petitioner's too humble
When paid to Heav'n. Commanding Lady rise,
And be obey'd.

Aph.
Great Sir, remember 'twas
Your act of Grace that doom'd me to this Lodging;
A Lodging fit for an Inhabitant,
So wrapt in Sorrows, and disguis'd in Tears,
That any nobler roofe would mock my Fortune.
The darkness of the place becomes her Griefs
That dwells in't.

King.
VVere you then brought here by my
Command?

Aph.
By your Command, Sir, and the Breath
That gave that kind command, pronounced a Fate
So glorious, that I am bound to honour
My Sentencer; this melancholy place
Agrees both with my wishes and misfortunes.
You in this favour just and generous prove,
So dark a scene befits a mourning Love.

King.
If you affirm it Madam, what you say
Is Oracle: 'Twas I that sent you hither.
You came by my command into this Dungeon.
But durst the Slave obey that breath that sent you?
Away with him to th'VVrack, and let his tortures
Be doubled. How, obey me Villain! Obedience
To a command so barb'rous and so monstrous,
Deserves more than an enraged King can utter,
Or torments act: What if you had been commanded
To Whore your Sister, Stab your Father, Ravish
Your Mother, Curse your God, or Kill your King?
Dog, would you have obey'd and done all this?
Away with him.

Aph.
Stay Sir, remember 'twas
His King commanded him; and had the deed
He acted been a Crime, (as this was none,
This was a blessing, and so great a blessing
As on my Knees I would have beg'd from Heav'n;)
Yet sure your hand can't punish what your tongue
Was Authour of.

King.
I Author of! why Madam,
'Tis therefore that I punish him. I Authour!
I do not doubt it in the least.
I was the only cause; I gave the Sentence;
I order'd you this Lodging; and no wonder.
Had I not made attempt to Ravish you?
Had I not Kill'd my Brother? And do ye think
Less then a Mad-man could commit such outrage;
A Man all Rage, all Lunacy, all Devil?
But this dull, sottish, ignorant Slave obey'd me.
Obey me! are the looks
And deeds of Kings no better understood?
Be gone. His ignorance forfeits his Life.
What could he have done more to merit death,
Then to think Mad-men ought to be obey'd?
To Tortures.—

Aph.
Hold! If I have any pow'r—

King.
If you have any Pow'r—Pow'r did you say?
I'de quit my Kingdom, and turn Anchoret
Or Pilgrim, if I thought that Heav'n had more.

Aph.
You are too kind. That little pow'r I have
Is in my Tears, let those Sir, beg his Life.

King.
Is it your pleasure Madam, he should live?

Aph.
Yes, & for what you're pleas'd to call a Crime,
I think he merits a reward, not punishment.

King.
You bid him live; live then, and live unpunisht:
Thank Her. But Slave, next let me hear you've ransackt
A Temple, raz'd a Pallace, burnt a City;
And if this Lady pardons you,—you Live.
Your Pleasure is so absolute, your Pow'r
So uncontroulable, what you forgive
So free from punishment, that your Mercy, Madam,
Would shut up Hell, and make Damnation cease,
Had you but half that Influence over Heav'n
You have o're Me.

Aph.
These shining Titles, Sir,
Believe me, are too gay: But since you're pleas'd
Thus to adorn me with these borrow'd glories,
I will persue the Character you lend me,
And beg a favour greater than his Life.

King.
Fair Excellence, what is't?

Aph.
My Death.

King.
Your Death!

Aph.
Is the Request so wonderful? My Lewis
Is gone before. And do you think that Patience
In Heaven's a greater Virtue than on Earth.
When he was living, hee'd have been distracted
With half so long an absence from Aphelia.
And do you think Heav'n where the Sun and Stars
Have kept one course so many thousand years,
There where the Saints sing one Eternal song,
Where Bliss without decrease has held so long,
Can you think Heav'n harbours Inconstancy?
My Lewis, when he took his last farewell,
Left all the world but me behind; he bore
My Image with him to the skyes, and there
Expects the sad Original should follow.
He is impatient, languishes, desires,
And thinks compar'd to Love the Stars dimne Fires,
Think's he's but half in Heaven; in his blest seat
Wants Me to make his Paradise compleat.
I come, I come. Oh my most gracious King,
By your command let my freed Soul take wing.
He can't be blest without me. And as you
Gave him his Death, give him his Glory too.
This Blessing you in Justice ought to grant:
You made the Martyr, and now make the Saint.

King.
Madam, is Love so barb'rous, that it must
Depend on Cruelty to make it constant?
Does it delight in blood, that it requires
A Mrs. Murder for a Lovers Monument?
No, no; He'l be a Saint a milder way.
Your pity makes him blest without your Death.
My happy Brother, happy in his Fall,
Who dyes deplored by fair Aphelia, was
Your Slave; & Conquerors may their Slaves out-live.
And though one of your Trophies is destroy'd,
Those eyes that made that shine as bright as ever,
And can make more; of which see here the greatest.
France at thy feet, tread on his Royalty.
[Kneels.
Or if thy Nature knows not to forgive,
(Which to believe were impious,) take this Sword
T'appease the troubled Spirit of thy Love.
I find a speaking pity in thy eyes,
Which thence will drop upon thy gentle tongue,
And cry, Live Clotair, my unhappy Loves
Repenting Murd'rer live.

Aph.
The Penitence
Of Kings, would expiate a Nations sins:
Sure then their own may be forgiven. His blood
Heav'n pardon you, for I do.

King.
Then I'm pardon'd.
There cannot be an act you pass, but Heav'n
Will sign to. But dear Madam in this state
Of Innocence, to which your Mercy has
Restored me, let me offer up a heart
To fair Aphelia for a Sacrifice:
I am a full and perfect Convert now.
Both Murderer and Ravisher repents:
My heart grown Virtuous and unspotted, now
Approaches you with Adoration, looks
With piety on what it once profaned.
Accept a Love, a Love so pure, so true,
Nothing but You could raise, nothing but You
Reward.

Aph.
Hold Sir, You are my King; but though
Things are exempt from Laws, their Crimes above
Th'examining of Justice from a Judg:
Yet Kings may guilty stand at Loves Tribunal.
I can condemne you, yet, great Sir, I do not.
But though I do not, and his death I pardon;
Honour, obey, and reverence a King
I can, but Love I can't. My heart his Right,
His Province I can never make a seat
For any second Lord, much less his Murd'rer.
They who forgive a Crime may not reward it.

King.
Oh my hard fate! Oh more then cruel Woman,
Is this to honour, reverence and obey
A King, to scorn him? or can the requiting
My Love, be the rewarding of my Crime?
Oh Cruelty! Concern'd so much for Blood
I shed in my wild rage, and moved so little
At Ruines you design, at deaths you give
With a firm look, fixt and resolved to kill.

Enter Lewis and Nigrello to the door.
Nigr.
Stand here unseen, and you are safe.

Lew.
The Plot
That thou hast layd to try her constancy
Is excellent.

Nigr.
He's here; expect th'event on't.

Enter Burbon in hast.
Burbon.
Forgive my hasty rudeness, for my Cause
Requires it; Sir, the City's up in Arms,
Your Subjects in Rebellion, and their fury
Seems by Revenge inspired: Revenge they cry.
Their Rage is grounded on your Brothers Death.
And they're resolved as the Incendiary
Of his destruction, t'have Aphelia's blood.

Lew.
As I could wish.

Burbon.
Great Sir, bethink your self.

King.
Aphelias blood!
The common Multitude advance their Arms
Against her sacred Head. Oh Hellish outrage!
The Gyants when they besieged Heaven, attempted
To Dethrone Jupiter with less impiety.
Her Blood!

Enter in hast a second Gentleman.
Second Gent.
Great Sir, your frighted Guards o're-pow'rd,
Your Pallace they have enter'd, and resolve
To lay it level with the ground, if what
Their loud and barbarous rage calls Justice, this
Fair Lady's Life do not appease their fury.

King.
Her Life t'appease 'em! By that Life they ask,
Her precious Life, the Sacred'st Oath
That I can swear, their Insolence has damn'd 'em.
Go instantly and tell the Rebels I
Am her Protector, and she shall not dye.

Aph.
Hold gracious Sir, revoke that harsh decree.
Tell 'em I am their Martyr, and my Death—

King.
Be gon, and say as I command you, hast.

Aph.
Oh no Sir, say that I'le submit and dye.
Consider but what dangers you will shun;
Think how much blood you'l by my Sentence spare,
And can you be so cruel, when the opening
Of one poor Virgins veins, that hates her Life,
And begs her Death, repaires a Kingdoms health.

Lew.
Oh my best Angel! Oh my full-blown joys!

[Aside.
King.
You cruel Woman, how can you request
That which your eyes forbid. Whilst I gaze there,
And feel that Love their Light inspires, I'de see
My Empire set on float, and France lye deeper
In humane gore, then e're the Deluge laid
The sunk Foundations of the drowning World,
E're I'de behold one drop of yours let out.

Aph.
Oh you forget your self. What Marriner
Would not throw over-board a worthless Fraight
T'avoyd a Shipwrack?

King.
But what Fool or Mad-man
Would throw away his Wealth, his Life, his Soul,
His Heav'n t'avoid that storm his courage scornes?
Tell the bold Rebels I'm in person here,
And as I know Rebellion shrinks at nothing,
I'le satisfie their rage a nobler way:
That blow their Impious hands dare aim at hers,
I through my Breast will intercept: their King,
Their Victim, sure th'Impetuous tide will stop.
Go then, and do as I command.

Aph.
No, stay.—
Kings are not safe in raging Crowds; their fury
May Murder you.

King.
What then, what if they do?
What can the Man you hate be worth the saving?

Aph.
Sir, though I cannot Love, yet my Allegiance
Will never let me see my Soveraign bleed.
The sacred Blood of Kings—

King.
The Blood of Kings:
A toy, a trifle; do you understand
Your pow'r so little to esteem his Life,
You scorn, worthy your care. You wrong your self
To cast a thought on such an abject thing
As a poor hated Lover, though a King.
Dull Sir, be gon—

Aph.
No kind Sir, stay.—Dread Lord,
Rebellion is a thing too terrible
For a soft Virgins ears, especially
When she is the occasion. Great Sir, say
What is't I would not do to save your Life,
And to divert my threatn'd Countreys danger:
I am all Duty when those are at stake,
And all Obedience.

King.
And do I command?

Lew.
Oh my wrackt Patience! Oh my blasted hopes!
Curse on my Plot: Is this her Constancy?

[Aside.
King.
Oh my large hopes! How high me-thinks I rise;
How big me-thinks I grow. What Empires, nay
What Worlds has this Commission made me Lord of.
Fair Creature, must I then assume that part
The Gods should only act, inspire your will,
And teach you how t'obey?

Aph.
Your humblest Slave
Submits, her Fate should wait upon your pleasure.

Lew.
I am all torture.

King.
In my Name, command
Our Marshal, and our other Officers
Of State, to give this Answer to the Rebels.
Aphelia I have made my Queen; and an
Affront don to her Sacred Person, drew
That rage from me that took my Brothers Life.
Yet 'twas no more than what our Laws for his
Offence would have required; howe're I'm sorry
They've lost a Favourite, and I a Brother.
Bid'em lay down their Arms, and with their pardon
Pronounce 'em free from all the Impositions,
Duties and Taxes due to th'Crown of France
For three whole years.

Lew.
Curst instrument of Hell.

[Aside.
King.
Which Act of Grace, say, was their Queens request.
[Exeunt Burbon, and the other Gentleman.
Now to the Temple to confirm my Bliss.
Madam—

Aph.
Sir, I attend you.

King.
Then lead on.

Aph.
Now in one act
I'le serve my King, my Countrey, and my Love.
(Aside...)
Mistaken Prince, I to the Temple go
Not to be made thy Queen, but Sacrifice.
Forgive me Heav'n, for 'tis a just disguise
Which does from Love, and from Allegiance spring.
It is my Loyalty that Cheats my King. (...Aside.)


Lewis undiscovers, and comes in to them.
Lew.
I can hold no longer.

King.
Lewis alive!

Nigr.
The Queen, She faints.

Aph. faints.
Lew.
Still let her sleep, sleep on:
For if she wakes, she will appear too monstrous
An object for frayle eyes to see & keep their senses.
Oh that in Nature there were left an art
Could teach me to forget I ever loved
This her great Master-piece. Oh well built Frame,
VVhy doest thou harbour such unhallow'd Guests?
If that our Vows are Register'd in Heaven,
Why are they broke on Earth, unkind Aphelia.
Oh I run mad.

King.
Rule your disorder'd Tongue
Lewis, what's past I am content to think
It was our Brother spoke, and not our Subject.

Lew.
I had forgot my self, yet well remember
That Gorgon has transformed me into Stone.
And since that time my Language has been harsh,
My words too heavy for my tongue, too Earthly.
I was not Born so Sir: When She was just,
My thoughts and language bore a fairer stamp;
But now she's a Disease, that turns my Blood.
And makes my veins run poyson, that each sense
Groans at the alteration.

King.
You've done ill,
And must be taught so: You capitulate
Not with your Equal: She's your Queen.

Lew.
My Queen!

Aph.
My Lewis living!

Lew.
Yes, he lives to see
You Perjur'd.

King.
Perjur'd. By the Gods, for such
A Blasphemy, thy forfeit life and soul—
But 'tis our Wedding-day, and you've our Pardon.
Recover'd by your care.

[To Nigr.
Nigr.
The wound you gave him proved not mortal; but
I'm sorry that I brought him hither so
Unluckily to interrupt you.

King.
No.
You have done well. I'm glad of his Recovery
For my murmuring Kingdoms sake, and for my own
I'm glad to see him here, to envy at
My Bliss, and see his Mrs. share my Crown.
Come my fair Innocence.

Aph.
Stay Royal Sir,
[Kneels.
And grant your pardon here, 'tis I that want it.

King.
How Madam?

Aph.
I have wrong'd you.

King.
Wrong'd me?

Aph.
Yes,
I promis'd to attend you to the Temple;
But my design of going thither, was
Not to be Clotairs Queen, but Lewis's Martyr.

King.
Go on.

Lew.
Go on.

Aph.
But I'm a Loyal Cous'ner:
I feared the Tumults that demanded mine,
Might in blind Rage assault your sacred Life;
And since no otherwise you'd calm their fury,
My kind submission was but a design
T'appease a Kingdom, and preserve a King.
Which when I had perform'd, their Arms laid down,
And all your danger gone, I was resolved
Before the Priest, the Altar, and that bright
High Presence they attend on, to refuse
A Crown, and beg a death; and with that death
Your Princely pardon that I durst not cancel
Recor'ds in Heav'n, my Love, and Vows to Lewis.

Lew.
Oh my Blest Saint.

King.
Saint; Devil! Woman-Devil!
Oh I'm distracted; I'm thy own Aphelia;
Thou hast inspired me, and I by thy example
Can be as great a fury as thou art.
And to begin that Cruelty thou hast taught me
Here.
Calls in his Guards.
Seize her, and convey her, where the light
[To the Capt. of the Guards, who seizes her.
May be as great a stranger to her Eyes,
As is my Passion to her Soul; that Sun
Which She once sees again, thou seest no more.
Away.

Lew.
Hold barbarous King, can your wild rage
Be so inhumane?

King.
Hold: What man art thou
That darest with impious hands seize on that Beauty.
Forbear; was ever Violence so profane
To the Capt. of the Guards
To touch a thing so much Divine?

Capt. of the Guards.
Great Sir.—

King.
Cut off his hold
[He lets her go.
Ha! 'tis the fair Aphelia—
The fair Aphelia?—No, the false Aphelia;
The falsest of her Sex, the Cruellest
That e're had Eyes to Charm, and Scorn to kill.
Seize her again; I did forget my self:
Her Treachery and Cruelty have banisht
All that was Sacred in her: She's no Saint now;
All her Divinity's expired; she's turn'd
A Monster, as deform'd, as chang'd, and black
As Angels when they sell. Away with her.

Lew.
Hold your rude hands, & take my Life before she goes.

Offers to draw upon the Guards, who disarm him.
Aph.
Lewis farewell. To Love and Life farewell.
The worst that I can suffer, is but death;
Which if I do—
Know at that hour, when I my Life resign,
My Blood's his Sacrifice, but my Heart thine.

[Exit Guarded.
Lew.
Stay bloody Dogs.

King.
Thou'rt a rash Fool to struggle, for a Beauty
Must be a Queen or nothing. Twixt extreams
In common things there is a Mean, as Light
And Darkness; there's a Dawn 'twixt Day and Night.
But such bright forms no middle course can have,
She rises to a Throne, or sinks t'a Grave.

Exit.
Lew.
I'le follow him, and brave the Tyrants rage.

Nigr.
Stay, for her Safety, I'le my Life engage.
Be calm, and you're secure.

Lew.
You saved my Life:
And I'le entrust you with defending hers.
Thus far I'm blest. I've heard with how much Zeal,
In constancy to Me, She scorn'd a King;
And when my Hirelings made that false Alarme,
How freely her demanded head she offer'd,
And chose the Temple for the place to publish
Her scorn of Life and Crowns in Love to Me.
And for my Brothers rage, I'le not be troubled:
Let Love Despair, and all things else conspire;
What though he be a King, no power's so great,
But what force cannot shake, Art may defeat:
As subtle Enemies, high Tow'rs assayl,
They undermine what is too high to scale.

Exeunt.