University of Virginia Library

ACT the First.

Scene the First.

Enter Dumane and Lamot, Attired as two poor Souldiers.
Dum.
We are not safe, Lamot; this Bawdy Peace
Begets a War within me; our Swords worn
For Ornament, not Use. The Drum and Trumpet
Sing Drunken Carolls, and the Cannon speaks
Health, not Confusion. Helmets turn'd to Cups,
And our bruis'd Arms administer discourse
For Tables and for Taverns, where the Souldier
Oft finds a Pitty, not Relief. I'le tell thee,
We're walking Images, the signs of Men,
And bear about us nothing but the form
Of Man that's manly.

Lam.
We are cold indeed.

Dum.
Yes, and th'ungrateful time
As coldly does reward us: All our actions,
Attempts of Valour, lookt into with eyes
Full of contempt; when, ye great Gods, they know
It is our Gifts they see yet. Oh I'm mad,
The very breath that lends 'em life to scorn us,
Our Blood has paid for.

Lam.
Patience good Dumane.

Dum.
Lamot, thou knowst I can be patient:
With what an equal temper did I breath
Under the frozen Climates of the North.
Where in my Arms, the sheets of War, I slept.
My Bed being Feather'd with the Down of Heav'n,
I have lay'n down a Man, and rose a Snow-ball.
Yet these have been my pastimes, which I'ave bor'n
As Willingly, as I receiv'd 'em Nobly.
The Queens black Malice, which does still remain
Unmovable as the decrees of Fate
Arm'd for our Ruine, does not swell my Gall:
No, nor this willing Beggary I wear,
To cloud me from her Malice. By the Gods,
This Bastard-getting Peace unspirits me,
A greater Corrasive to my active soul
Then all past Ills what-ever.

Lam.
Coole your Rage,
And be as Wise as Valiant; this is no time
To vent your feeble Passions like a Woman:
A Souldiers tongue moves only in his Sword.

Dum.
You are an expert Tutour, and I thank you.
Our Wrongs would adde a spirit to the Dead;
And make them fight our Quarrels. Who comes here?
Enter Clarmount, attended by Nigrello Brisac, and other Lords bare-headed, who are follow'd by a Rabble of Petitioners.
The Minion to our Queen. Oh what a Train
His gaudy Greatness bears? 'Sdeath, were I Jove
But only for this Gyant.

Petit.
Good your Honour, our Wives and Children.
Good your Honour hear us.

Clarm.
Where are our Slaves: Keep off these dregs of men,
Bring round my Chariot to the Postern-Gate.

Petit.
Good your Honour consider us.

Clarm.
These Bell-mouth'd Vassals split my Ears with noyse.
Make hast before, lest my great Mrs. wait
My coming.

Petit.
Good your Honour

[Exeunt Clarmount, Lords, and Petitioners.
Dum.
These are the fruits of Peace Upstarts, and Flatterers.
Tell me, Lamot, can this same Marchpane man
Think or commit a sin, though ne're so horrid,
But it is Candid o're.
Were I the King;—but he is wilful blind.
Before the Wanton and hot-blooded Queen
Sould have the Licence but to be suspected,
I'de lock her up, and house her like a Silk-worm.

Lam.
Pardon me, Sir, the good old King's unable.

Dum.
And therefore must admit an up-start Flatterer,
Now raysd to Honour by her lawless Lust:
Marshal of France; the next step is the Throne.
Oh peasant State, when Owls build Nests
In Cedars tops, the Seats of Eagles.
Were I the King, I'de Execute'em both.

Lam.
Execute'em! By his best blood he dares not.
The Unchast Queen is great in Faction,
Follow'd and Sainted by the Multitude,
Whose judgment she has linkt unto her Purse,
And rather bought a Love then found it.
She has a working Spirit, and active Brain:
Besides her Sons, the Pillars of the State,
Support her like an Atlas, where She sits,
And like the Heav'ns, commands our Fates beneath her:
She is the Greater Light, the King a Star,
That only shines but through her Influence.

Dum.
Hark!
[A flourish within.
The Thunder of the War: How out of tune
This Peace corrupting all things, makes 'em speak.
What means this most adulterate noyse?

Lam.
This is a Night of Jubilee, and the King
Solemnly Feasts for his Wars good success:
We shall have Masques and Revelling to Night.

Dum.
Now the Great Gods confound this pickthank noyse.
The Drum and Trumpets too turn'd Flatterers.
And Mars himself a Bawd to grace their Ryots.

Enter Nigrello, who delivers to each of them a Purse of Gold; leaves a Letter and departs.
Lam.
What Vision's this? 'Tis Gold, or sure I dream.

Dum.
I cannot tell whether I dream or not too.
But this I'm sure, if I should see that Man
That dares to take this from me, he should find
I was awake. Was't not Nigrello brought it.

Lam.
Yes.

Dum.
What Paper's that, Lamot.

Lam.

Dum.
We are betray'd, Lamot; what shall we do?

Lam.
We'l take the gracious offer of the Queen.
She's Princely, Vow'd our Friend; besides, what ill
Can we expect from her, who might have sent
Her murdering Ministers, and slain us here,
Had She intended foul play? No, She's Noble.

Dum.
Noble—Grant her so, yet—

Lam.
Yet what?

Dum.
Her Murder'd Brothers memory.

Lam.
When He fell
We were too far off for Traytors.

Dum.
But not for Torments had we been apprehended.
For in the high displeasure of that Queen
All our Posterity was doom'd, some felt the Wheel,
Some Wrackt, some Hang'd, others empaled on Stakes;
And had not we been then in Wittenburgh
We had added to the number of the Dead.
And think you still we shall not?

Lam.
By my Life
'Tis Murder to suspect her: We'l to Court.
Our Lives are all that we can lose, our Fame
Stands fair; no power can reach a Souldiers Name.

[Exeunt.
Enter Fredigond and Nigrello.
Queen.
What Conference did they maintain with thee?

Nigr.
None further then the Language of their Eyes:
They lookt on me, as if they meant me thanks,
Which their Amazement rob'd me of.

Queen.
Spake they not?

Nig.
No, not a word.

Queen.
Do you know 'em?

Nigr.
No, Royal Madam, they appear'd to me
But like the silent postures in the Arras,
Only the form of men with stranger faces.

Queen.
Come take'em in. They are our Enemies,
VVhich I have Angled with that golden bait.
Their Parents waded in my Brothers blood,
For which I'le be reveng'd on all their Race.
Did they increase as fast as I could Kill,
I'de ever Kill that they might still increase.
A bloody, and a terrible mistake!
To right the Injuries of their Ravisht Sister,
They Murder'd Clodymer for Clotairs fact:
My Brother Dyes for what my Son did act.
For which thus Fredigond's revenged.
The old Dumane, the Father to this Maid,
VVith all his Kindred, all his Race, except
Her wicked Brothers, and that Ravisht VVhore
I have already Sacrificed.
Is not Revenge a Pastime for the Gods?

Nigr.
VVere but their Ravisht Sister, and those Brothers
VVith'em, it were a pastime for the Gods.

Queen.
VVe find thee fit, Nigrello, for employment.
I've always found thee trusty, and I love thee.

Nigr.
I lay my Life at my great Mrs. feet.
But, Madam, how came this their Sister Ravisht?
Now for the greatest Rancour of her Soul.
[Aside.
Was She such Ice, or He so ill a Courtier,
That He your Eldest Son, the Heir of France
Could not subdue a Ladys heart, nor steal
A Pleasure but with so much Violence?
'Twas very hard he could not.

Queen.
Yes, 'twas hard.
'Twas my ill Fate he could not. For that Lady
I knew he Loved; and I, & my dear Clarmount,
Glad of th'occasion, instantly used all
Our Arts to make Her His. 'Twas we seduced her
By false pretences to that fatal place,
VVhere my hot Sons wild passion forced her Honour.
But for a different end we brought her thither;
For we design'd her for an easier prize,
In hopes She would have yeilded to his Arms,
That when he had once debaucht her to a Mistriss,
He might have been diverted by her Love,
And those more sweet stolne Pleasures, from the thoughts
Of the morose and duller Joys of Marriage,
And the more weighty cares of Heirs to Kingdoms.
And by that means we thought t'have softend him
Into so loose a Life, as might have render'd
My Clarmounts passage easier to the Crown.

Nigr.
Was ever such a Bawd, or such a Mother?
[Aside.
But She it seems more Chast then Wise, refused
The gracious offer of your Princely Son.

Queen.
Refused it? Yes: And (Curse upon the Name)
Her Chastity that scorn'd his Love, inflam'd it;
And drew that Rage from his unruly Passion
That lost her Honour, and my Brothers Life.
Her Enraged Kindred wanting power for open
Revenge, in a dark hour, and silent Walk
Mistook, and Stab'd my Brother for my Son.
But see how my Revenge I have persued.
And what's my Misery, I am still forced
To set new Plots on foot.

Nigr.
As how, Royal Madam?

Queen.
I've laid the Platform of great Childricks death.

Nigr.
Her Husbands death!

[Aside.
Queen.
And they two Brothers must be thought his Murdrers.
Our Enemies, and now new Courtiers,
Whom for this end I have reserv'd for Policy.
First, that they take away the Guilt from Us:
Next, being seiz'd, to study Pains and Deaths,
The Heads of all our Engineers shall sit
T'invent unheard of Torments for the Villains.
I long to see'em greet their Kindreds Dust.

Nigr.
The Plot's most admirable.

Queen.
Then I'le commend thee to my Elder Son,
Where thou shalt wind into his secret thoughts.
As for the Younger Boy, let me alone.
Did ever VVoman less delight in blood,
And shed so much as I must. Oh, Nigrello,
I once was a Kind VVife and Pious Mother.
But now my Husband, and my Sons must dye,
And I must be the Traytor. I can Weep
To give'em Deaths, and yet I cannot save'em.
Almighty Love this wondrous Change has made,
A Love that has my hopes of Heav'n betray'd:
And yet I can't resist it. For my Clarmount,
My best-lov'd Clarmounts sake, Husband and Sons
Are Clouds betwixt my Love and Me: and all
The tyes of Blood and Nature are too small
To check what Love resolves. When Love bears sway,
All lesser powers, all weaker tyes give way.
Enter Clarmount.
Sir you are welcome.
Your Visits have been freer, but I grow old,
And you command the Beauties of the Time.

Clarm.
What means my Noble Mistriss, think you the blood
Runs so degenerate within these Veins,
To stoop to any thing below the Charms
Of this Divinity?

Queen.
But oh my dearest Clarmount, we are betray'd,
Our Interview last Night was by the King
Discover'd.

Clarm.
How discover'd!

Queen.
Yes; but by
What Arts I cannot learn.

Nigr.
Learn! No, 'tis past your skill. The Plots I lay,
I defie all the Arts of Man or Devil,
To countermine; or what's more subtle
Then Man or Devil; I defie thy pow'r,
The pow'r of Woman damn'd in Lust, whose Brest
Harbours more Hell then Zealots Fears, or Poets Fables ever framed.
Aside
Furies are Tame, and burning Lakes are coole
To thy Insatiate Lust and monstrous Villanies.

Clarm.
How? has he dropt ambiguous words, and what
To Fredig.
His Language left imperfect, spoke in Looks?

Queen.
Yes Sir, but as he's of a fearful Nature,
And consults safety e're his Rage speaks plain,
So is he of a cruel one, when that rage
Is ripe for action: what he intends
I cannot guess, unless it be our deaths.
Which if he speedily performs not, then
Know he shall never; for this night concludes him.

Nigr.
Dye, and to Night!

[Aside.
Queen.
The Poyson's drank already,
And wants but some few hours for operation.
My Sons I weigh not this. They have Rebell'd
And taken spirit to oppose my Will;
For which it is not safe that they should live.
The Kingdoms Heir shall be a Child of thine,
And Kings and Queens shall follow in thy Line.
Enter Dumane and Lamot nobly Attired.
You're welcome to the Court, take a Queens word,
Fredigond bids you welcome.

Dum.
Your Highness is all Mercy.

Queen.
Follow us,
We'l be your Guardian and Protectress.

Clarm.
What are these?

Queen.
Sheep, Clarmount, Sheep, which I have fatted up
Only for Slaughter. If they look like things
Worthy a humane name, call'em a pair
Of thinking Animals, (if what I hate
Be worth the thought of Destiny,) by mine
And their own Planets doom'd e're they were born,
First to be made my Slaves, and then my Victims.
Mortals, whose pride does like thin Meteors rise;
It shines this minute, and the next it dyes.
The Fates and I have in one Vote decreed
That some shall smile to night, and others bleed.

Exeunt all but Nigrello.
Nigr.
Her Husband Poyson'd, and his Life not in
My pow'r to save; and I unfortunately
By her discover'd Guilt an accessary
To this outragious Crime! Forgive me Heav'n,
And injur'd Majesty. My Vengeance calls
For black and tainted blood. But since ill fate
Has martyr'd Innocence: Since Destiny
Has wrought thy Fall; yet in the worst mischance
There is some good; thy Fatal Blood will add
More weight to her Damnation, and more edge
To my Revenge; which whilst my Arme pursues
My Rage does from thy Ruine higher rise:
I kill more justly: She more guilty dyes.

[Exit.
Enter Lewis and Aphelia.
Aph.
If this should be dissembled, not your Heart;
And having won my souls affection, you
Should on a judgment more retired to State
Fling off affection, and leave Me in Love,
What ill-bred tales the World would make of me?

Lewis.
That Jealousie I'le strangle. Take this Ring,
Be this our mutual pledge of Love. That Diamond
Is your Adorers Embleme; as the Sun
From precious Dew does solid Diamonds make,
So hard that they can no Impression take,
But from the sacred Light from whence they grew:
So shall my Bosom be inspir'd by You;
Obdurate to all force, assault, surprize,
All but the charms of fair Aphelias Eyes.
Your Beauty only shall my soul invite,
Impenetrable to all pow'r but Light.
But see the King.

Enter passing over the Stage; the Old King leading Fredigond attended by Clotair, Lewis, Brisac, Nigrello, Dumane, Lamot, Lords, Ladys, and Guards.
Clotair viewing Aphelia, deserts the Kings train, and with Nigrello steps upon the Stage.
Clotair.
Such Excellence I have not seen, Nigrello.
What envious Parent, or Religious Fool
Has kept such Beauty Prisoner to a Chamber,
Or Cloyster, that it ne're shined out till now.
That neither fame, nor her fair eyes have been
My Friends before this hour. What Lady's that?

Nigr.
Aphelia Daughter to a Country Lord,
Whom late preferment from your Fathers bounty,
Due to his Loyalty, has newly brought
To Court, and with him his chief Wealth, his Daughter.

Exeunt Lewis and Aphelia.
Clotair.
No, he's a poor Possessor of that Treasure:
Beauty is Wealth to a Lover, not a Father:
As Golds no Riches whilst 'tis in the Mine.
Art sure she's honest?

Nigrell.
Snow Sir, is not purer:
She has the fame of a most rigid Virtue.
She has not been long enough in the warm Court
To thaw her frozen Constitution yet.
Morals and Country piety stick close still.

Clot.
So much the worse; however use thy skill,
Get but that Lady for me.

Nigr.
Sir, She doats
Upon your Brother, and though their acquaintance
Has not been long, they've interchang'd their hearts,
And built in minutes what can't be destroy'd
In Ages.

Clotair.
How, more Mountains in my way?
I like not that; how-ever though he Love her,
I must enjoy her. We're by Nature Lords
Of our Desires, why not their Objects too.
Let others Love in their way, I in mine.
Love is the Pulse of souls, and beats most high
In Feavourish tempers, such as burn like mine.

Nigr.
Spight of her Chastity, I have a plot
To get her Company for you to Night.
Trust me to serve you Sir.

Clotair.
Do't and be happy.

[Exit.
Nigr.
I fear it not. For this design, I'm sure to have
His heart and soul. Delight ne're goes unpaid;
This Service Prince, I'm sure you will requite.

Exit.