University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

SCENE Continues.
Enter Tulip and Boreal.
Bore.

Come, unlock, unlock; how awkwardly the Fool looks
with a Knave's Coat on—What Wickedness have
you been meditating? Why is your solemn Brow loaded with
Care?

Tul.

Who, I careful? Gad, you are the most mistaken Creature—

[Sings.

Heigh-ho—in troth Admiral, I am most desperately in Love,
and it whirls about my Head, and makes such work in my Brains;
I took you just now for Piracquo, and was about to tell you
that—

Bore.

What?

Tul.

Nay, nothing at all, only—If Courtly gentle Damon
dies—Oh, I had such a horrible Dream last Night of a Gallows,
and Execution, and Officers of Justice—but that they
say signifies Preferment, Admiral, Ha! come, come, let us be Merry,
very Merry:

Oh dear—well Sir, I am your most Obedient, and most
Humble Servant.

Bore.

Hold, hold, we must not part thus—Well, what
Discourse had you and Piracquo?

Tul.

Who I? as I hope to be Happy in the Arms of the most

Illustrious, I have not seen him this Age—Gad, I don't like
him so well, I believe he's a Traytor.

Bore.

What Reason have you for that?

Tul.

Lord, Lord, I tell you I am entirely Ignorant of the
whole Matter—Did not the Princess look most triumphantly
in her Tears to Day, like the Sun in Eclipse, or the Moon in
a Cloud, or like fifty Things besides—My Spirits are in a hurry,
I am hipp'd consumedly—Well Sir, your most—

Bore.

Nay, nay, you shall not stir one Foot from this Spot
—Come, come, deliver your whole Cargo—I know Piracquo,
like Old Satan, would never converse with a Fool, but to
Seduce him.

Tul.

Ay, ay, I perceive you know something of it—Pox
take his Conversation, I have not slept a wink since he pour'd his
damn'd Plot into my Ears, and fill'd me full of Treason—Ad
it has fermented and work'd within me like new Wine in a crazy
Cask—if it had not broke out at the Bunghole, it wou'd have
burst the Hoops—I am a Traytor d'ye see, and that is all—
'tis out, thank Heav'n, and I hope you won't Hang me, Admiral.

Bore.

No, provided you Hang all the rest; don't prove tender-mouth'd,
swear home, and make a full Discovery.

Tul.

Imprimis then, there's my Wife and Piracquo—they
continually buzz'd in my Head such Stories against my Lawful
Prince, they wou'd never give me a Moment's Rest 'till I consented.

Bore.

Envious Fiends!

Tul.

What cou'd I do? the Devil was at one Ear, and the Woman
at the other, who cou'd help falling?

Bore.

How many are there, and who? Name 'em.

Tul.

Why there are o'my Acquaintance, De Sale, Chicane,
Piracquo, Jollyboy, and my Wife Lydia, don't forget her; cou'd
not one, Admiral, upon this grand Occasion of Impeaching, throw
in a Friend or two one has an old Grudge at, or so?

Bore.

You'll have Business enough within the Compass of
Truth—Where do they meet?

Tul.

At Eight this Evening at Piracquo's House.

Bore.

Have you heard none of their Instructions?

Tul.

Yes, I remember at our last Conference (tho' then my
Fear had almost extinguish'd my Understanding) the Castle was

be seiz'd at Ten this Evening, when the Guards were to be reliev'd—
Arviragus Assassinated, the whole Island plunder'd, and
all who offer'd any Resistance, or were found in Arms, murther'd—
And further this Deponent saith not.

Bore.

Keep your Appointment, that they may entertain no Suspicion
of the least Discovery—precious Villains! they shall
feed Crows—discharge thy Brows of their Burthen, smooth
thy Forehead, Care breeds Wrinkles; thou shalt not turn Pendulum
this bout—attend thy Hellish Committee; I'll wait on you
with an Equipage shall set all right again.

[Exit.
Tul.

So, now have I, like a deep Politician, secur'd my self both
Ways—if the Plot succeeds I shall be one of the Glorious Restorers
of the Liberties of the People—be an eminent Patriot—
and if it miscarries I shall have a Statue erected for my Fidelity
to my Prince.

[Exit.
SCENE Piracquo's House.
Enter De Sale, Piracquo, Jollyboy, Chicane.
De Sale.
Where's Tulip? has the Clock struck?

Pirac.
'Tis not yet Eight.

De Sale.
Between the mighty Thought and Execution
Of some great Deed—Time hangs his leaden Wings,
And drives the lazy Hours but slowly on,
For heavy Expectation clogs the Wheels.

Pirac.
Here comes our Friend and Brother.
Enter Tulip.
Sir Gaudy, Welcome.

Tul.

Gentlemen your Creature to the Centre—You see I
follow you Punctually—Yes Faith, Punctually—
as to Day did Yesterday—true as your Shadows—in troth,
I am wonderfully alert my Friends—Come, come, let us
to Action—yet methinks, the cutting Throats is but a slovenly
sort of an Employment for a Gentleman.

Jolly.

No, no, not at all my Jolly-Heart, my Boy of Pleasure,
we are all five to be Rulers, to have an equal share in the
Government—What is that hard Word you call it, Piracquo?

Pir.

A Pentarche—The Model is all new, a Foundation
upon which no Government on Earth was ever built before—
I know 'twill prove auspicious.

De Sale.
I know ye all, 'tis therefore vain and idle
To hope to move your Minds with trifling Words,
Who jumpt at once, like the great Wheels of Time,
Into one Movement for Immortal Liberty.

Tul.

In good serious my Heart begins to sink again, I cannot
keep it up—I wish Boreal would make haste with his Myrmidons,
I shall be hurry'd away here into some cursed Affair or
other.

[Aside.
De Sale.
Hear only how you are dispos'd, and then
Let Action follow Resolution's Laws.

You, Piracquo, must head those Guards we have brought over
to us, and seize the Palace—I will, in the mean time, with
this Ponyard secure Arviragus; you, Jollyboy, must open the
Doors of your Treasury, and fling Rewards among the hot-brain'd
Populace—while you, Tulip, at the Head of our Banditti,
and the discontented Sea-men, seize all who make Resistance,
and put 'em to immediate Death.

Tul.

Sir!

De Sale.

What, do you tremble? Does your Courage quail
under the glorious Cause?—I wou'd not think it.

Tul.

Tremble! No, Sir, not at all—I put 'em to Death!
Damn'd Rogue! he makes my Back ake consumedly.

De Sale.
Have you not sworn to take your equal Share
In this great Enterprize for Power and Fame,
And do you shrink now Action calls you forth?
I gave you this great part only to try you.
The Fire has prov'd you; base and squalid Fear
Sits shaking in your Front—My Fellow-Patriots,
This Miscreant will betray us, if he has not;
It is not fit he live—we must prevent him,
[They draw, and enclose him.
And sacrifice him to the publick Good.

Tul.

For Heav'ns Sake—What, will you carbonado me
alive?—Nay, nay, as you are Gentlemen—Well, I
will cut Throats or do any thing—Oh spare my Life, I do
confess that I have—

Enter Boreal, Guards and Soldiers, who seize 'em all.
Bor.

Gentlemen, at ten this Evening you were to be in Possession
of the Palace,

You shall keep your Words, I will conduct you thither.
Villain De Sale, thou wert thy Master's Sin,
And therefore justly might have prov'd his Ruin.
Viper, to sting the Bosom that had warm'd thee,
And rais'd thee from the Earth to Wealth and Honours,
His second in the Throne; be dumb, black Fiend,
It best becomes thee—sullen, gloomy Traytor.

Chic.

Why, we are all nonsuited—I'll have a Noli prosequi;
what, wou'd you take Possession vi & armis—Gentlemen, don't
be discomfited, I'll bring you off; bearing of Arms in this Case
is not High Treason; look into Stat. 25. Edw. III. there 'tis
plain, Sir.

Joll.

Cods so, my Jolly Boys, all undone, Faith—blown
up at once, like your great Dealers—Well, well, I am satisfy'd,
my brisk Boys, I shall fare as the good Company does.
Ha, ha,—We shall be chain'd like your City-Posts—We
shall be compleatly dress'd, have Stockings of Iron—Cuffs
of the same—

Tul.

And Neckcloths of Hemp—Gad, you came in the
nick, Admiral, or I had been minc'd by these bloody-minded
Ruffians—What now, Gentlemen, what, you are merry—
Don't you know me, prithee be quiet, Friend.

Sold.

'Sdeath, Sir, if you stir a Limb, I shall send a Brace of
Plumbs thro' your Jaws shall spoil your singing.

Tul.

Good lack, you are mighty touchy—Dear Sir, oblige
me so far to drop your Bull-dog a little—it makes my Stomach
sick—Why, Boreal, Admiral; pox, can't you hear nor
see? Why, I tell you, I am an Evidence—I peach.

Chic.

Sir, you can be no Legal Evidence in this Case; 'tis
contra formam Statut'.

Tul.

Prithee, Paper-worm, tie up thy Tarrier, that is, hold
thy Tongue, there's a Decree against thee—What's all this
for a Blind, Hah! Admiral?

Bor.

No, Faith, we have Evidence enough without you, and
five, you know, Sir Gaudy, make the best Company in the
World.

Tul.

Did not you promise me?—Who the Devil shall turn
true Traytor to serve you for the future—Admiral, Admiral,
by all that is dear to me on Earth, my Complexion and my
Cloaths, I'll swear you into the Plot, if you don't do the fair
thing.

Bor.

Come, Soldiers, bring 'em along.

[Exit.
Tul.

Hyrcanian Tyger! Go, relentless as the Rocks and
Winds—but Winds are still, and Rocks are calm again—
Ah Tulip, Tulip, must this Breath, that shou'd have gone out
in a Sigh, expiring at the Feet of my Princess, be rudely stopt
by vile Plebeian Hemp—Must these Eyes cease to gaze, this
Shape to charm, these Legs to lead a Minuet—

Sold.

Come along, Sir, I can't wait to hear you complement
your self.

Tul.

You are a dirty Clown, refuse a Main in Affliction a Soliloquy—
Well, I will die like a Gentlemen—tho' positively
I cannot endure to think on't.

[Exeunt.
SCENE A Grove.
Enter Zaida and Semanthe.
Sem.
Madam, you must not thus indulge your Grief,
Duty and Love forbid it, while you thus
Tread o'er the Grave of your dear murder'd Love;
I fear you cannot bear too sharp Reflection,
It will again distract the wounded Sense.

Zaid.
No, no, my Blood rides on its chrystal Streams
Unmov'd, my Eyes are dry, my Senses sound,
And yet, believe me, Memory remains;
This is the glorious Light, and this the Air;
Yonder the foamy Waters of the Sea
Break on the chalky Cliffs—there stands the Palace,
And this, ev'n this, is that ill-fated Spot,
Where poor Aranes fell—ev'n here he lay
Weltring in Blood—You see I talk it cooly,
Distinguish, think—What a Companion's Thought
In Misery like mine?

Sem.
Inexorable Death hears not your Sighs,
Nor will regard your Tears.

Zaid.
I ask not a Return, I know he's gone
For ever, and for ever will I mourn.
When the poor Turtle's ravish'd from her Mate,
The little Widow pines her Life away—
I prithee, Maid, lend me a social Tear;
My burning Heart drinks the warm Spirits up,
And, Miser-like, denies my Eyes a Drop.

Sem.
Wou'd but our Tears bribe the remorseless Grave
To give him back—

Zaid.
'Tis false, he is not dead,
Yonder he rides upon a Purple Cloud,
Cloath'd in soft Light—see, see, he steals the Thunder
From nodding Jove—and now he strikes the Tyrant.
Thus, thus he falls to Earth—Ye rising Sweets,
Ye springing Flow'rs, cool Glades, and talking Rills,
Soft Musick, sinking down, seraphick Peace
Lull my dear Love to Rest.

Aranes enters at the upper End.
Sem.
See yonder thro' the Trees your Lord Aranes,
Look there he comes—Oh Horror and Amazement!

Zaid.
Have I then rais'd him from the peaceful Grave?—
'Tis he, 'tis my Aranes, or my Eyes
Wou'd cheat me with the pleasing dear Illusion.
O save me, good Semanthe, or I sink.
My trembling Knees deny their friendly Aid;
Hide me, 'tis all a flatt'ring faithless Dream.

Aran.
Thus let me fly to save her, thus thro' Death,
And all the darksome Terrors of the Grave,
I break to guard my Love—Oh! 'tis too much,
And her o'er-burden'd Mind sinks with the Weight.
Awake, my Love—thy lost Aranes folds thee;
And Life and Joy, like the first Dawn of Light,
Chears our reviving Love.

Zaid.
Yes, 'tis his Voice—or still the ravish'd Fancy
Holds hard the lov'd Idea—Here I see him,
His pleasing Image joys the dying Sense—
Or is it but an Antepaste of Heav'n!
'Tis no deluding Vision—'tis my Lord,
Aranes is return'd—Say, quickly say,
How wert thou rescu'd from the Jaws of Death?
What Miracle preserv'd thee? Yet my Eyes,
Yet they demand thee all—I cannot hear.
O my exulting Heart, how shall this vast
Extravagance of boundless Joy be born?

Aran.
O Zaida, be assur'd, excelling Maid,
Thy Virtue is the Care of Providence.

Zaid.
How has good Heav'n preserv'd thee? Say, Aranes,
The tuneful Orbs, Celestial Harmony,
Wou'd be rude Discord to the pleasing Tale.

Aran.
When last we parted, on this very Spot
The Guards attackt us; the declining Day,
Like a weak Taper, shot imperfect Light.
We stood prepar'd to sell our Lives like Men.
Firmly we fought, and dealt Destruction round us;
When a sharp Javelin's Point struck to the Heart
My valiant Friend—Pious Alvarez fell,
Into my Arms he fell.
The Ministers of Vengeance straight retir'd,
And thought they had perform'd their bloody Orders,
Mistaking him for me—The glimmering Twilight,
Which feebly glar'd upon us thro' the Trees,
Improv'd their Error.

Zaid.
And restor'd to me
My Life, Aranes; yet a grateful Tear
Is due to brave Alvarez.

Aran.
It is, my Love, nor must excessive Joy,
As the glad Years revolve, on this great Day,
(Tho' it gave Zaida to my Arms) deny
A Tributary Tear to good Alvarez.

Zaid.
Eternal Peace attend him—But since then
How didst thou waste the miserable Hours
With thy poor murder'd Friend?

Aran.
All the remaining melancholy Night
I spent in pious Rites on my Alvarez,
And bury'd in the Sands the bleeding Body.

Zaid.
Yet art thou undiscover'd, art thou safe?
For I can feel no Fears but for thy Safety.

Aran.
I am, and owe it to the generous Mind
Of gallant Boreal; he, with noble Pity,
Saw my distrest Condition, call'd me Friend,
With hospitable Arms restor'd a Wretch
Abandon'd to Despair, and fed my Hopes:
By him I learnt the cruel King repents,
And that De Sale prov'd to us both a Villain,
And urg'd his Master's Rage—but he is fallen
By his own Arts.

Zaid.
My Vows are answer'd, ev'n the vast Extent
Of all my dearest Wishes is compleat;
And the good Gods, to make the Blessing greater,
Can only make it thus—unchangeable.

Aran.
My dancing Spirits feel thy tuneful Words,
And nimbly course thro' their small winding Channels;
As when brisk Musick warms the sluggish Blood—
There is but one thing now looks inauspicious:
During the bloody Conflict of last Night,
A Soldier tore that Bracelet from my Arm,
Which with uncommon Care I always wore.
Thou know'st, my Zaida, 'twas my Mother's Gift,
My dying Mother bound it o'er my Arm;
Receive, said she, thy valiant Father's Pledge,
He whom thy Eyes ne'er saw bequeath'd thee this,
Good Fortune will be constant while you keep,
But when you lose it, changeable and bad.
I am not superstitious, yet methinks
'Tis ominous, and somewhat touches me.

Zaid.
No, no, our sullen Days are fled like Clouds,
We have exhausted all our evil Fate,
Drank up the bitter Draught, and now methinks
I see the shining Hours advance—fond Love
Triumphant draws 'em up—his rosy Cheek
Smiles, like the genial God of Light, on all;
He leads his Favourites from the noisie Crowd,
To rest for ever on his purple Wings.

Aran.

[Exeunt.