University of Virginia Library

Actus Primus.

Enter Filamor and Fromund in a Garden, Tetrick walking alone, and reading.
Fil.
No, Fromund, I have had too many proofs
Of thy Fidelity, to doubt it now.

Fro.
Sir, if you were not Filamor, nor Son
To my Prince, if I were not your sworn Servant;
Without relation, meerly for your Virtues,
Fromund would sacrifice his life to serve you
In this Design against your Step-Mother,
Your envious and imperious Step-Mother,
Who rules your Father, and would ruine You.

Fil.
The difficulty of the work will be,
When we have got my Father to the Woods,
How we shall keep him there: for since he marry'd
This Woman, she has master'd both his Courage
And Reason; she governs his very Soul,
He cannot live without her.

Fro.
There's the man
Whose pow'r can ballance hers, for your Old Father
Dotes but on two, his Wife and that great Scholar
My Friend.

Fil.
And you can make him ours.

Fro.
Not I,
What I am to present him from your Highness
Will make him Yours.

Fil.
Firm?

Fro.
If he once ingages
Nothing can alter him, he's an honest man,
Peevish, but (to our comfort) Covetous:
Yet he'l not take a Bribe to do unjustly;
But if he be imploy'd, he will be pay'd,
This Gold and this rich Book will sweeten him.

Fil.
Attacque him; I wait for my severe Mistress,
'Tis Princess Cæsarina's walking-time.
[Exit Filamor.

[Fromund claps Tetrick on the Back.
Tetrick.
The Prince's Tutor? Well return'd to Britain.

Fro.
Our good old Master's Favorite, learn'd Tetrick.

Tet.
Out of what Region have the Clowds dropt Fromund?
Where all this while wert thou and our young Prince?

Fro.
We liv'd where Grapes grow, like our Crabs, in hedges,
Where every Tree looks lovelier then this Garden,
In Italy, the Paradise of Nature.

Tet.
The plague of War consume your Paradise;
The Galls over-run Italy again;
Ten thousand Dropsies, Cramps and Gouts torment
That leg of earth.

Fro.
Still snarling my friend Tetrick?

Tet.
Men may well snarle when they are us'd like Dogs,
As we have been, by our Italian Masters.

Fro.
But now the Roman Legions are call'd back,
And we are free-men, Britain is old Britain.

Tet.
But Italy is still curs'd Italy,
I would not hear thee praise it any more,
For twenty pieces of Imperial Gold.

Fro.
I'l try what pow'r one piece has over you.
[aside.
This Medall (Cæsar grav'd in gold) I brought
From Rome for thee: and is not Italy
(Where these Flowers grow) a most delicious Country?

Tet.
The Garden of the World! how blind was I,
That could not see the Beauty of Italy
Till I had wip'd my eyes with Cæsar's Picture;
Now I perceive the errour of my Judgment;
Why should we hate Countries that hurt not us?
The Roman Yoke galls not our necks: you see
Our old Lord, Prince of Verulam, dares own
His Title: and what Curiosities
Has our young Prince brought from the Nursery
Of Arms and Arts, sweet Italy?

Fro.
Rare Musique;
And Voices, such a Trebble and a Base—

Tet.
How merrily shall we live—pox o' the devill.
Pontia, Cæsarina, and Brianella walk over the Stage.
There's the confoundress of thy Master's musique,
Pluto could not have rak'd him out of hell
Such a Step-Mother, she reigns o're his Father.

Fro.
But the date of her Sovereign pow'r is out,
By this time the old Prince is in our hands,
We have him in the Woods.

Tet.
And long you'l keep him;
His very first reflexion on the fury
Or flattery of's Wife, posts him to Court,
He'l leave you.

Fro.
'Tis expected; therefore, Tetrick,
My Master has sent me to ingage you,
If th'old Prince change his mind, you can perswade him,
He believes all you say.

Tet.
I believe nothing
You say, or do; your Plot's a scurvy Plot.

Fro.
But you can mold it into a better form.

Tet.
Nay, since you can begin your plots without me,
End e'm without me.

Fro.
And shall I return
The Prince this answer?

Tet.
Every syllable.

Fro.
Shall I return his Princely Present too?

Tet.
That is to be consider'd of—let's see't.

Fro.
Alas, 'Tis only a poor Table-Book,
The cover is but Gold and set with Rubies,
Not worth your looking on

Tet.
This needed not;
Without fee, I'd have been o'th' Prince's Counsel,
And the Cause shall go with him, never fear 't;
But they say, the Step-mother's inquiring
For Witches, they'l discover all we do.

Tro.
That she may seek no further, I have told
Her Favorite, my Mistriss Brianella,
That yesternight there came into the Woods
A Bard, that's a Witch-maker:

Tet.
Your Witch-maker
By any means must be attended by
A Conjurer and a Witch to learn their Trades.

Fro.
I'l be the Witch, I think my face will serve;

Tet.
And Schollars make rare Conjurers, I'l play my part,
Come, bring me now to kisse your Masters hand.

[Exeunt.
Enter Pontia, Cæsarina, and Brianella.
Pontia.
Stir Cæsarina, only exercise,
Can prevent th'undermining of thy Colour
By the Green Sickness, that long gravel walk
Did alwayes please thee.

Cæsarina.
When I was in breath,
But I'm grown too short-winded for a walk
Of this length, Madam, I shall ne'r hold out.

Pon.
One quarter of an hour, and I'l release thee.
[Exit Cæsarina.
But Brianella, art thou sure thou saw'st
Filamor in the Arbor?

Brianella.
At his Lute;
With him a Flamen, and a winged Boy
That should be Cupid, perhaps Priest and God
Will in some Dialogue present themselves
To Princesse Cæsarina; the Prince said,
They should sing the Description of a Triumph.

Pon.
Then I shall now see whether Filamor
Continue still his Love to Cæsarina,
And how she looks on him after his Travails;
Lets to the close walk, my Son Adolph's there.

[Exit Pon. and Bri.
Filamor discover'd in an Arbor, with a Lute in his hand; on either side the Arbor, on two pedestals, Cupid stands, and the Flamen kneels: as Cæsarina walks by they sing.
Flamen.
Why unarm'd, poor Cupid, pr'y thee,
Tell a Mortal how tis with thee?

Cupid.
To one Mortal, what another
Has committed, may be told;
I am plunder'd, so's my Mother.

Fla.
What frail Man durst be so bold?

Cup.
No, to make us more inglorious,
Tis a Woman that's Victorious.

Fla.
Cæsarina?

Cup.
They (who saw her)
Say, she rides in Triumph here,
That my Mother's white Doves draw her
In their Chariot.

Fla.
Look, she's there.

Cup.
How knowest thou?

Fla.
By a sure Token,
Thy Torch quench'd, and thy Bow broken,
Makes her Trophie; Captives follow.

Cup.
One Slave Sorrow's Livery wears,
His Eyes sink, his Cheeks fall hollow,
In his Face his fate appears.

Fla.
That Slaves Filamon; no Lover
Cæsarina triumphs over,
Suffers in Love's Cause so sadly,
Cupid help?

Cup,
I cannot do
Him a favour; I would gladly:
But I am her Captive too.

Chorus.
The World's grown so stupid
That now 'tis in fashion
To pray to God Cupid,
If a Man have a passion,
He that hopes for a Cure,
Must get it of Beauty,
Or else do his Duty.
That's Dye, or Indure.

Enter above Pontia, Cæsarina, Adolph, Brianella.
Adolph.
Has Filamor been so long out of Britain,
To forget Cæsarina is your Daughter?
Court her without your leave?

Pon.
Or thy consent.

Ad.
That's more then you know (by your favor, Madam)

aside
Pon.
He kneels, see.

Ad.
Hear him.

Fil.
Heav'n is in your Eyes,
Disorder not that beauty with a frown
On your Adorer; if my love displease,
Be not offended with my gratitude,
I name you in my Hymnes, as shipwrack't men
Sing to the Deities which have preserv'd them;
By virtue of that sacred word, your Name,
I have out-liv'd the pains of death in absence,
At my return to you, dearer then life,
Friends, Father, or our common Mother Britain;
Will you, for want of one poor smile, destroy me?

Cæ.
Make not yourself a Supplicant to me,
Prince Filamor, kneel where you owe a Duty;
Kneel to the Gods, to grant you Understanding,
That you may see, I cannot love; and then
To one that can love you, apply your self;
You have my counsel and resolve.

Fil.
For pity,
Leave me not to despair; though all my sighs
Breath'd on the aire of Italy, were lost
At such a distance; now we'r met again;
May not pray'rs alter your severity?

Cæ.
Can prayers alter a Decree of Fate?

Fil.
Pray'rs joyn'd with services: if Verulam
Open too narrow a Prospect for your eye
I'l draw my sword, and merit from my Country
Th'inlargement of our bounds.

Pon.
He works upon
The humours of Ambition; I'm afraid
The Milk she suckt from my Breast will betray her.

Cæ.
To be the first on Mountains, in poor hovells,
Rather then t'have the second place in Rome,
Was Cæsar's wish, but 'tis not Cæsarina's;
Your Cottages cannot make me a Court;
I'm not like Ladies newly come to London,
Who from the vast height of Diana's Temple
Look down, and please their eyes with little people,
Objects, that are not magnify'd, I scorn;
The Prince that would discover his Dominions,
Let him turn the Prospective Glass to me.
At the right End, great Subjects I must see.

Pon.
She yields?

Ad.
For my friends sake, would she did yield.

Fil.
Great Subjects! all our British Lords shall kneel
To Cæsarina; I have form'd it thus,
You know the Kentish-men have took up arms
Against the Trinobants, the Londoners;
Whilst Scots and Borderers, with their deadly feuds,
Ingage the Northern parts in Civil Warr;
No sooner from the Roman Slavery
This Iland's free, but we (like mad-men arm'd)
Die our white-feather'd shafts in our own blood;
Against these Enemies to the Publick Peace
I'l make a League, and fight my Country's battails,
Till I fix Britain in a Settlement.
Then, as the best means to keep Peace, (thus Purchas'd
By me) I may with confidence presume,
The Wisedome of the Nation for their King
Will chuse their General; who shall lay down,
At Cæsarina's feet, his British Crown.

Cæ.
Filamor, you have had a pleasing Dream,
And I was loath to wake you, till I found
My self concern'd; Britain you may subdue,
If you fight well: but for your fancy'd Conquest
Of Cæsarina, let me undeceive you:
'Tis true, I have declar'd for Sovereignty,
The Title of a Queen I dote upon;
But if you offer'd me a Crown, I should
Refuse it as Gold poison'd by the giver.

Pon.
Fly Brianella, and relieve my daughter,
She comes off bravely; tell her, I and Adolph
Stay for her; bid one call my Generall.

Exeunt Pon. Ad. and Bri.
Fil.
Will you not love? then I'l revenge your hatred.

Cæ.
Do, revenge.

Fil.
On my self, I feel my Spirits,
Like those the Chymist is extracting, search
Their brittle prison, with a hope to find
Some Vent, and then to fly into the Wind.

Cæ.
In that point you may use your own discretion.

Enter Brianella.
Bri.
Madam, your Mother's in the Sicamor-Walk.

Cæ.
I shall attend her.
[Exit Cæsarina.

[Enter Fromund.
Bri.
I'l stay, and get newes
[aside.
Out of my Servant.

He whispers Filamor.
Fro.
Tetrick waits you, Sir,
With modells for a Mask, he has already
Made your Witch-maker's Prophesie; I'l play
A Witch, Tetrick will be a Conjurer,
Bassus the Bard, and we'l shew your weak Father
What a pernitious Wife he doates upon:
[Exit Filamor.
What ailes he now, that he has lost his tongue?
Has not the Princess vex'd him?

Bri.
Yes indeed.

Fro.
And will not vou vex me so?

Bri.
No indeed,
For, you love me, you say:

Fro.
I'l swear it, Madam.

Bri.
What will not men swear; but swear your heart out,
You never shall swear me out of my Reason.

Fro.
Reason! I warrant, Tetrick reads to you
The Mathematicks, you think nothing certain
But Demonstration.

Bri.
Is Proof Demonstration?
Nothing but Proof is certain.

Fro.
Kisse me then,
And we will prove, that One and Two make Three.

Bri.
I will not two and three, pray leave your fooling.

Fro.
In serious earnest, I would marry you.

Bri.
Meaning my Fortune?

Fro.
Meaning Brianella;
Without a Portion you'r a Fortune, Madam.

Bri.
Thou art a flatt'ring Knave, I doubt

Fro.
Resolve
Your self, please to lay your Commands upon me.

Bri.
I've no Commands for you, but I've some Questions.

Fro.
Which if I answer not—

Bri.
You'l hold your peace:
How many Duells did you fight at Rome?

Fro.
But one.

Bri.
Answer me like a Gentleman,
Was't for your Mistris?

Fro.
It concern'd You, Madam.

Bri.
How do you look when you lie?

Fro.
Not You alone,
But joyn'd with all our noble British Beauties,
Whose Honour a base Roman had traduc'd.

Bri.
You kill'd him?

Fro.
Your Cause slew him by my hand.

Bri.
Modestly spoke; Had you no hurt?

Fro.
He prickt
An Artery, which pos'd th'Italian Surgeons.

Bri.
Since, you your self have study'd Surgery?

Fro.
Would all Gentlemen spent their time no worse;
I have found out some Secrets.

Bri.
You've a Powder,
VVhat do you call't?

Fro.
The Sympathetick Powder.

Bri.
Wil't cure the Tooth-ake?

Fro.
Presently; try, Madam.

Bri.
No, it may prove Love-Pouder, then 'twill cause
The Heart-ake: in spight of my own and Love's teeth
I'l keep my heart whole. Now to my last Quære,
What design has your Charge upon the Princess,
I see in thy sweet looks, there is some plotting.

Fro.
Plotting of Masks.

Bri.
Plotting of Knavery!
But I shall know't, my Lady will tell me,
And she'l know't if there be a Witch in Britain.

Fro.
What is thy Lady going to the Devill?
But let her go, for there's other way
To sound the bottom of Prince Filamor,
He's forty fathom deep below my plummit,
She goes to a wisewoman?

Bri.
No, she means
To go to a Wiseman, to the VVitch-maker,
The Bard; who came last night into a Cave
In our VVoods, you shall bring me to the Bard.

Fro.
Fie! the Bard sings only to Princes Ears,
His Prentices, VVitches, and Conjurers
Answer Great Ladies; I'l commend you to
Th'old Witch that deals in Palmistry; but then
I'l be your husband.

Bri.
VVho shall be my husband
The VVitch must tell me.

Fro.
And that Witch I'l be.
[Exit Fromund.

Enter Pontia, Adolph and Cæsarina.
Pon.
I live again, my Children are become
Their Mother's Parents: when thou, my dear Adolph,
Look'dst with the eyes of pious rage and scorn
Upon the Sacriledg of Filamor,
Who (without leave from me) durst court thy Sister,
Then my Soul clos'd in your dead Father's Urne,
Sprung from his ashes; but when Cæsarina
Stood the temptation of a Showre of Gold,
Such as the Poets dream'd not of, a Crown
Offer'd her by a Prince, wise, young and handsome;
But yet my Enemy, then I felt the joys
Of Immortality, to see my self
Mother to a Beauty, born to revenge me
Upon a Villain.

Ad.
Villain? then Fame is—

Pon.
Filamor's Fool. Before he went to Rome,
Filamor had the art of coz'ning Fame:
For with a Rebels Impudence he mask't
Foul Treasons under fair and specious Names:
The disimpowering me to rule my Husband
(An affront not to be forgiv'n) he call'd
Friendship to Adolph, Love to Cæsarina:
He's now return'd improv'd in Villany,
Therefore tis time he went a longer Voyage.

Ad.
And whether will you send him now?

Pon.
To Hell:
Nor shall he go so far alone; his Father,
Sylvanus. And his Sister Violinda
Shall bear him Company; th'indignity,
He would have put on me, shall ruine him
And his whole Family; I did not think
(When this Match with Sylvanus was first treated)
Occasion durst be giv'n, but I resolv'd
It should be taken; for I that was born
A Prince, and no mean Beauty, certainly
Would never have bury'd my self alive
In the cold Grave of an Old Prince's Bed,
But to rise up with his Crown on my head,
The principality of Verulam,
Which I am marry'd to, I'l joyn to that
Of Malden, which is my Inheritance.

Cæ.
But Madam, is this Justice?

Pon.
Give me Pow'r,
Let honest men, that go to Law, have Justice:
Subjects may plead their Titles, Princes must
Dispute what's Advantageous, not what's Just:
A Crown he merits, who piles Tow'r on Tow'r
To scale the Stars, and ristle Soveraign Pow'r:
But he that puts himself into a fright
With empty sounds, meer Terms of Wrong and Right.
Is fitter (when his Conscience checks at them)
To wear a Mitre then a Diadem.

[Enter Crispus, Capito, Gracchus and Sergius.
Bri.
Madam, my Lord General,

Pon.
My Lord,
Are not our Orders sent away to Malden,
That I see your Lieutennant-General here?

Crispus.
Yesterday your Express came to his hand
In Malden.

Capito.
Presently I hors'd the Foot,
We march'd all night, and by the break of day
I brought your Army into Barnet-Woods,
Which is within a League of Verulam,
Where safe and undiscover'd they are lodg'd
Till my Lord General Crispus please to come.

Pon.
Capito, you've been active in my Service.
Our thanks is but th'earnest of your reward,
Ha! who are these?

Cri.
Two of my Life-Guard,

Pon.
Britans?

Cri.
No, Madam, Roman Gladiators, Sword-men,
We call them Masters of Defence,

Pon.
Stout-men?

Cap.
Men that fear nothing, death's their play-fellow,
They dye upon the Stage to please Spectators,

Pon.
But were these kind of men ever imploy'd
In a great Action?

Cri.
In the Servile War;
They brought it to a measuring cast at Rome,
Which should Command in Chief the Lords or Slaves.

Pon.
I'l have 'em for my own Guard, tell 'em so;

Cri.
Gentlemen, tis the pleasure of my Prince,
On the account of Valour and of Service,
To intrust you with the Guard of her Person.

Sergius.
Tis a high honour; Gracchus, I had rather
Be trusted with her Daughter,

Gracchus.
So had I:
Pox, that a Swan's Nest, this poor Iland should
Have more great Beauties then the severd World.

Ser.
That narrow Seas should breed such Venuses,

Gra.
That Brittish Whales should play, with such sweet Mermaids.

Pon.
We make short Meales, you may dine ere you go.

Cri.
Tis past Twelve, if by One we be a Horse-back,
We shall return by Three to do your Work.

Pon.
Then you'l have time to hear what good success
The Brittish Bard will promise, do you look
Your General's Commission be drawn up
For the Conquest of Verulam; come my Lord.

[Exeunt Pon. Cri. Cap. Bri. Grac. and Ser.
Adolph. and Cæsarina.
Cæ.
My Mother us'd to give us better Precepts,

Ad.
She was good-natur'd, and had sense of Honour,

Cæ.
And of Religion; but now she leaves
The Temples of the Gods, to consult Witches,
As Brianella tells me; I suppose
The General must go with her, she knows we
Are for no such black Voyages, tis strange
The General should, for he's a man of Honour.

Ad.
Was not our Mother once as strict as he
In point of Honour, but she's chang'd; this comes
Of Malice; Sister, take you heed of Malice,
Outside and inside you'r my Mother's Picture,
In hate to Filamor you resemble her.

Cæ.
I have th'ayr of her Face, not of her Vices;
I love not Filamor, as you do, Brother,
But would not be his murdress, like my Mother.

Ad.
You would not with a Dart or Poniard kill
Prince Filamor, but with a Frown you will:
It were an Honour by your Hand to dye,
My Friend falls sadly, murder'd by your Eye.

Cæ.
Can he be murder'd, who has pow'r to live?

Ad.
He has no pow'r, but what you please to give:
Lov'd Sister, save my dear Friend's life, and make
The noblest person happy, for my sake.

Cæ.
Can you (who to a Brother's love pretend)
Ruine your Sister to preserve your Friend?

Ad.
Ruine my Sister?

Cæ.
Free Love forc'd, destroys
More then our Fortunes, or our Lives, our Joyes;
I'l here no more on't.

Ad.
So, you'l part in anger,
And take this fair occasion to break promise?

Cæ.
In what?

Ad.
Did not you promise me, to beg
Princesse Violindas's Picture?

Cæ.
For my self?
But you shall have it.

Ad.
Thou art my best Sister.

Cæ.
But if I get y' her Picture, you must do
Something for me.

Ad.
Something, nay any thing;
Still my best Sister.

Cæ.
But when I enjoyn you
To take off him, for whom you thus torment me,
[aside
I shall be your worst Sister; for this Picture,
You will do whatsoever I Command?

Ad.
Give me her Picture, and command my Life.

Cæ.
A Lover's life? what's that? some Authors say,
You 've one to keep, and eight to give away:
Muster your nine Lives, Brother, if you'l stand
My Charge, for 'tis your Patience I'l Command.

[Exeunt.