University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Enter Brianella at one Door: at another, Fromund like a Witch.
Bri.
This is th'appointed place; there's the Mark-Beech,
And the old Witch too; luck an't be thy will:
A General, I beseech thee, gracious Beldam;
Mother, you are a Woman of your word.

Fro.
O my good Daughter, neither Man nor Woman
Will break their word with you; show me your hand,
Off with your Glove: Ay marry, Child, if Cæsar
Were now our Lord, he would send for his Guards
That watch th'Arabian Trees, and set them Centree
Upon this Balm.

Bri.
A Complemental Hag,
[aside.
How come you to be such a Courtier, Mother?

Fro.
I shall be catch'd—First, Daughter, I pray resolve me,
Did never any Gentleman, at Court,
Tell you your Fortune?

Bri.
Yes.

Fro.
Then if your Hand
Can turn a Courtier to a Fortune-Teller;
Why may't not make us Fortune-Tellers Courtiers?

Bri.
A pleasant Witch: what? Compasses? do you
Mean to survey my Hand with your Glass-eyes?
Come, on with them: First, how long shall I live?

Fro.
Here's a deep Life-line, without Cross or Break;
Ten, twenty, thirty, you'l live, till you be
Just a year older then am I, a hundred.

Fromund with his Compasses measures her Vital Line.
Bri.
That's long enough; shall I be fortunate?

Fro.
I never saw such a prosperity-line
Running quite through your Triangle; it cuts
Your Table-line, and has the noblest Sister,
You'l be Right Honourable.

Bri.
So, here's Fortune,
And Honour; but what Pleasure? how many Husbands?

Fro.
To that what sayes the Mount of Mercury?
Tis cross'd with one Line, you'l have but one Husband.

Bri.
How? but one Husband in a hundred years?
O pittiful!

Fro.
But in the Mount of Venus
Are Stars; in Sol and Jupiter a Zone;
A Venus-Girle, you'l have store of Servants.

Bri.
Shall I keep Counsel?

Fro.
At foot of Jove's Mount,
Your Capital line and your Vital line
Meet in an acute Angle, which demonstrates,
Your Head holds correspondence with your Heart:
You'l not tell any Secrets of your own.

Bri.
No, if I do; like a poor Vestal-Nun
That can't keep Counsel when she meets her Servant,
Let me be bury'd alive; this one Husband
Will be (I hope) a good one: pray, what manner
Of Man?

Fro.
Black hair, not curl'd by Art, but Nature;
Good hopefull Signs.

Bri.
Have I seen him?

Fro.
To day,
He courted you for a Wife.

Bri.
Ha! that's Fromund?
He has a voluble Tongue?

Fro.
The Gudgeon bites.
[aside.
A winning way (she's taken with my Courtship)
[aside.
The young man Complements better then th'old Witch.

Bri.
A Traveller?

Fro.
One who in Forreign parts
Has noted Men and Manners; I'm cock-sure.

[aside.
Bri.
A Courtier too?

Fro.
In some Place, or Imployment,
About a Prince: she's mine, from all the World.

[aside.
Bri.
Prince Filamor's Tutor, Fromund, out upon him
A younger Brother.

Fro.
So, so, my Cake's dow,
Fromund is about to discover himself.
When I believ'd my self to be cock-sure,
If I had flung off my disguise, how she
Had laught at me?

Brit.
What? Mother, a la mort?

Fro.
Daughter, I am considering your Condition,
Will you lead Apes in Hell.

Bri.
Yes, (Apes is something
To trust to) rather then I'l marry Hopes:
I am for Honour, and Estate in Hand,
No promising Husband is for me; can you
Change me this Courtier for a General?
For Fromund I'l not give one farthing-token.

Fro.
He's much bound to you.

[aside.
Bri.
Make it my Lord Crispus,
You shall have the worth of a hundred pieces,
This Saphyr-Ring.

Fro.
If you would give me London,
I cannot find a General in your Hand.

Bri.
Adieu.

Fro.
But the young Conjurer makes Love to me,
And I'l lay my Commands upon my Servant,
To search the Stars for my Lord General.

Bri.
Take the Ring; Mother: when shall I hear of you?

Fro.
In th'Evening: mean time, if you could but get
Your Lady to move my Lord Crispus for you.

Bri.
That I am sure she will.

Fromund throwes off the Witches habit.
Fro.
Then I am sure—
[Exit Brianella.
The Generall will not have thee, he's a person
Of so much honour, that he'l never marry
One, thy dishonourable Lady speaks for:
[Enter Tetrick.
There's life in't yet; Tetrick, I must have thee
To help me in the businesse of my love.

Tet.
The devill's in't, when men make love their business;
Thou a man? thou a horse: and would thou hadst
(Besides thy amorous curvetting qualme)
All the diseases of a horse: I help thee?

Fro.
Thee I have help'd, and may prove to thy purse
More instrumentall yet.

Tet.
Why, look you, Fromund,
How you misconstrue me: I'l serve your love,
If you will love at seasonable times,
But to stand fooling now, when Pontia,
Th'Illustrious Traytresse, takes up Gladiators
To murder our great Master—here he comes
[Enter Sylvanu reading a Paper.
Reading the bloody List she gave the Bard.

Syl.
Dis Manibus. Pontia devotes to hell
Filamor, Violinda, and Sylvanus—
Am I here? Is my name down? thank you, Wife;
Kind second wife, I very humbly thank you
For the recovery of my Wits—you hear
No news?

Tet.
None, Sir.

Syl.
But what you hear from me—

Fro.
What news is that, Sir?

Syl. frowns on Fromund.
Syl.
Sense, Sir; I speak sense.

Tet.
That we have heard oft.

[Syl. smiles on Tetrick.
Syl.
But when, Tetrick? when?
Before I marry'd Pontia; never since,
Till now.

Fro.
And now you understand your danger?
Prevent it in her ruine.

Syl.
You'r a fool;
Shall I destroy my wife for her first fault?

Tet.
That were to imitate her cruelty.

Syl.
Thou'rt wise.

Tet.
If she commit another Treason—

Syl.
Then she shall die.

Fro.
But you'l forget your Promise,
Be pleas'd to write it down.

Syl.
I'l set my hand
To nothing—

Tet.
That's unprincely: but 'tis just
To write as she did, your Note for her Note.

Syl.
'Tis just indeed, I'l underwrite her Paper.

Tet.
You'l find her Pen and Ink too ith' Bard's Cave.

[Exit. Sylvanus.
Fro.
See how Affection swayes! though both our Reasons
Were of one colour, mine look'd dull; thine bright,
When Prejudice and Favour chang'd the light.

[Exeunt.
Enter Pontia, Cæsarina, Violinda, Brianella, Gracchus and Sergius.
Pontia,
This Mask was made for you by Filamor,
And therefore if he take you out to dance,
Dance with him Cæsarina, though you love not
The Man, be civill to the Prince.

Cæsarina.
I shall.

Pon.
After the Masque, whither will you two walk?

Cæ.
Through the Lawne.

Pon.
Just into the Lion's pawes;
[aside.
O excellent, incomparable Bard!
Gracchus and Sergius, you know the Lawne?

Serg.
I do; That's the Place.

Pon.
I Pay well.

Serg.
Then hang well,
If either he or I neglect your service.

Grace.
Our Roman Swords shall fall upon your Foes.
Swifter then Arrowes from your British bowes.

Pon.
When the Masque's done, remember Brianella,
Your part.

Brianella.
Your Message to the Prince shall be
Deliver'd, as from Princess Cæsarina.

Pon.
Filamor will believe thee, when he sees
Thy first newes (of her dancing with him) true:
Do't carefully, and I'l make thee my care,
The Generall will not deny thy love
VVhen I move for thee.

Bri.
You'r a royall Mistresse.

Cæ.
My Dear; what are these Maskers?

[They sit.
Vio.
Ovid's Huntsmen:
Their Forms (chang'd by his Gods) the God of Hunting,
Apollo, has restor'd to Phaëton,
Cephalus and Actæon.

Pon.
See, they come.

[Filamor Walks up to Cæsarina.
Fil.
Not Filamor, but Cephalus begs the honour
Of a Corant.

Cæsari.
Cephalus' es Suit is granted.

Pontia.
Come my bold Sword-men, now you'l have imployment,

[Exit Pontia, Serg. and Gracchus.
Fil.
May I presume to kiss the Princely hand
To which I owe this honour.

Cæ.
Does my bounty
Incourage begging? you shall be content
VVith the next favour you receive from me.

[Exit Cæsarina and Brianella.
Fil.
So does the covetous Fav'rite lose his place,
By offering to impose upon free Grace.

Adolph.
My Sister's too high-hearted to be govern'd;
Proud Minds, like billowes in a storm, are toss'd
At their own rate; but if you steer, y'are lost.

Fil.
What a dull fool was I to lose her thus?
[Enter Brianella.
I hope not; here comes one who can resolve me;
Dear friend, leave me alone with my Good Angel.

Adol.
VVhat means he? is the Devil his Good Angel?
My Mother's Messenger? I'l hear her newes.

Adolph stands and listens.
Fil.
Now Brianella, speak; is't life, or death?

Brianella.
Life, life Sir, Princess Cæsarina walks
To gather Violets in the Lawne, from thence
She strikes up to the Lime-tree Grove, come thither,
But keep your masking habit on, she said,
If so by chance you met her in that Grove,
You might have better Audience as a Huntsman,
Then ever yet she gave you as a Prince.

Ad.
How's that? my Mother has a Plot upon him
This cannot be a Message from my Sister.

Fil.
This Embassage shall put about thy neck
A string of Pearl.

Bri.
A string of hemp were fitter,
[aside.
I am sure I deserve't, If you knew all:
Excuse me; if my Lady call, she may
Suspect my absence.
[Exit Brianella.

Adolph.
Filamor, no haste,
You shall not go.

Fil.
Then you shall kill me, Adolph;
For if I live, I'l go.

Ad.
You are not mad?
Do you know, Who invites you? Brianella,
My Mother's Confident, the Agent for
Thy cruel Step-Mother, who seeks thy blood:
Do you know, what she said? Is't probable,
My Sister (who scorn'd th'offer of a Crown)
VVill love a Masking Suit?

Fil.
Was't probable,
Your Sister would have danc'd with me? yet she would;
And Brianella præacquainted me
With her intention: no more words, I'l go.
[Exit Filamor.

Ad.
A happy voyage; I'l be there before you:
She told him, Cæsarina's in the Lawne;
If he go thither, 'tis upon the Bow;
I know the String, the strait path to the Grove;
And whosoever is to meet him there,
Shall find me on the place, to answer for him.
[Exit Adolph.

Enter Pontia, Gracchus, and Sergius.
Sergius.
Our Trade is to kill men, we never yet
Shed Woman's blood.

Gracchus.
But Madam, for your service—

Pontia.
And my Reward: you shall be so rewarded,
You'l wish I had more Princess Violinda's
For you to kill.

Grac.
May we not have the honour
Of murdering her brother?

Pon.
That's reserv'd
For my hand; none shall revenge Pontia,
But Pontia.

Serg.
If the Prince, your husband, wants
An Officer—to cut his Throat—

Pon.
For him,
I'l provide meaner Instruments, there's Gold,
Jewels too; You are Strangers, and the Natives
(After this fact, if they can take you) will
Tear you to pieces: To prevent your danger
You see my Groom waits for you with good horses,
Fly; though for me you have lost Italy,
And must lose Britain; wheresoe're you land,
You'l make your selves a Country with that Treasure;
Romans farewell.

Grac.
Our saddest losse is, such
A bounteous Mistresse.

Serg.
And it wounds us deeper
Then we can wound the Princess, when our Swords
Shall weep her blood.

Pon.
But Gentlemen, pray kill
My Daughter-in-Law with as little fright
To my own Daughter, as is possible:
If you bind Cæsarina, bind her gently.
[Exit Pontia.

Serg.
As gently as these arms can bind a Lady;
To kill her Step-Daughter, she gives me a stock,
Will keep me like a man on any Ground;
But before I leave Britain, I'l be bold
To ravish her own Daughter; I have had
A stomack to her long.

Grac.
Meat for your Master;
Thou ravish her? I'l ravish her my self;
Room for your betters, from the Gracchi I am Descended.

Serg.
No, degenerated, Raskal;
When we play'd Prizes on the Stage at Rome,
Then wert not thou my Mimick? did not I,
With this short Faucheon, round about the Stage,
Chase thee in that high crown'd Hat, with Gold-labells?

Grac.
And what did I, the while?

Ser.
Why, at my Head
(Helmet and all, in which I wore this Fish)
Thou flungst a Casting-Net, and crydst, fear nothing,
I catch not you Sir, I catch but your Fish.

[Gracchus draws.
Grac.
Upbraided with my Calling? Ganlick-Rogue,
You Country-low, did not I hear thee Beg
(Like a cow'd Slave) the People's suff'rages;
To give thee leave to take up that white wand,
The Rudies (which discharges Sword-Players,
From fear of playing Prizes by Command)
And wilt thou play a new Prize for a Princesse?
Come on.

Serg.
Take notice of this Thumb reverst,
The sign of death to Fencers.

Grac.
Hold, you puppy,
Sergius draws, and bends his Thumb back.
What? Roman against Roman? lets draw Cuts?

Serg.
Then I bend down my Thumb; live, to be hang'd:
The long cut carries her.

Grac.
Fortune's a Slut,
They draw cuts.
To give the prop'rer man the shorter Cut:
No remedy, I must content my self
With Princess Violinda.

Enter Cæsarina and Violinda.
Seg.
Here she comes,
The Fencers seize them.
Princesses by your leave, I'm somewhat bold.

Grac.
And I am welcome.

Cæ.
Help ho!

Vio.
Murder, murder.

Grac.
No faith, tis but a Rape.

Cæ.
Unhand me, Rogue.

Serg.
Peace, you shrill Grashopper,
Or I'l open your Heart to stop your mouth;
Do y'see this triffle, this was Tarquin's Dagger,
And knows the way to Rape.

[Enter Filamor.
Filamor.
Prodigious Villain
Look a man in the Face.

Serg.
That's not so pleasant
As looking Babyes in a Ladye's Eyes:
Help Gracchus.

[Serg. falls.
Grac.
There's a poor Remembrance for you.

Fil.
Die like a Coward: he's dead out-right that stirs;
Answer, what put into your hearts a hope
Gracchus comes behind Filamor, and runs him in at the left arm: Filamor runs him into the Body: Gracchus falls, and mak'd a strange Grimas grinning like a dead man.
To ravish Princesses?

Serg.
The Devil-Lust;
There was a Devil (of their own Sex) in't,
The Devil Pontia—she contracted for
The Life of Violinda—

Fil.
I have paid
Your Wages, Slave.

Serg.
Justly, oh, I die justly.

Sergius stretches out himself as dead.
Cæ.
How it afflicts me, that my cruel Mother
Should be my dear Friend's mortal Enemy,
And seek the Life I prize above my own?
Your Brother bleeds much, Violinda; have you
Nothing about you that will stop his Wound?
Tear, tear my Handkercher! Pray, take it Sir,
Lose not you self in the preserving me;
You look pale.

Fil.
Madam, My Wound blushes for me,
To hear your preservation ascrib'd
To Filamor, 'twas Innocence preserv'd you,
When betray'd by this habit.

Cæ.
By what Habit?

Fil.
By th'honour you intended me, if thus
'T had been my Fortune to have met you in
The Lime-Tree Grove.

Cæ.
Who said so?

Fil.
Brianella.

Cæ.
She did abuse you.

Vio.
Has she not abus'd
Your Brother too, and sent him to meet me
Among the Lime-Trees? to that Grove he went,
Just as we turn'd into the Lawne.

Fil.
Did Adolph?
Excuse me, Madam, I must needs go see
What becomes of my Friend.

Cæ.
Tis a Bow-shot
To the place, if you go thus bleeding thither,
You'l faint.

Fil.
I'l die, before I leave Prince Adolph
To danger.
[Exit Filamor.

Cæ.
Let us follow Filamor,
I hear my Mother has a plot upon him.

[Exeunt Cæsarina and Violinda.
[Gracchus gets up.
Grac.
'Twas well for me that I was bred a Mimick,
If I could not have made strange ugly Faces,
And imitated the Grimas of Death,
The very last grinn, I had never past
For a dead man; Dead-man indeed, by'r leave,
Your Gold and Jewels too fall to my share,
By the right of Survivorship.

Gracchus searches Sergius his Pocket.
Serg.
The right
Sergius gets upon his Feet.
Of a Fool's head: soft; Hands off, Goodman Gracchus,
Or I'l so slice your Fingers—

Grac.
What? another
Dead man's Ape? nay, Sergius, if you out-do me
At my own Weapon, I'l give thee the Bucklers:
Hereafter we'l turn Tables (since thou art
The better Zany,) thou shalt be my Mimick.

Serg.
Come, let's not fool away our Lives, and stay
Untill the Hangman cure our wounds; our Horses
Stand ready: Farewell Britain, where the Ladies
Yield not to Romans.

Grac.
Where we have no luck
In any thing; for as the Mastives fly on's,
So do the Men, and they both fright like Lions.

[Exeunt.
Enter Adolph.
Adolph.
Sure all but I forget this Lune-tree Grove;
Here's neither Filamor, nor Cæsarina,
Nor any of my Mother's blood-hounds; ha!
My nose bleeds, and these drops some hold to be
Ominous Effects, when they've a natural Cause,
The fear that hants a Lover till he sees
His absent Mistress safe: but Violinda
Thou art not altogether absent from me,
For here—here sits thy Proxy, in my bosome
I wear thy painted Representative
In Gold, too poor a Temple for my Goddesse.

Enter Pontia with a Poniard in her hand.
Pontia.
The strong imagination Filamor has
That Cæsarina is to meet him here,
And something in my face resembling her,
Will passe me, and my Poniard.

Ad.
Fair'st of Pictures,
[Adolph opens his buttons.
Come forth, thou dear Companion to my heart.

Pon.
Fall right; go now, and counsel thy old Father
Not to be rul'd by's Wife.

As she stabbs Adolph, enter Filamor staggering, Cæsarina, Violinda, and Servants.
Filamor.
I come too late
To save my friend, but not to perish with him.

Adolph.
My Mother?

[Adolph looks up.
Pon.
My Son Adolph?

Violinda.
Adolph's kill'd.

Pontia flyes away, Filamor falls at the feet of Adolph.
Ad.
No, noble Violinda, Adolph lives.

Cæ.
Filamor's dead.

Ad.
Yes, cruel Cæsarina,
But he might have surviv'd this fatal hour,
Had'st thou been kind.

Cæ.
Had I been fortunate,
But I was Mistress neither of my Love,
Nor Fortune: the Gods govern'd that and me.

Ad.
Pray let me weep Filamor's Obsequies,
He was my Friend.

He puts by his Sister.
Vio.
He was my dearest Brother.

Ad.
He was, thou best of Sisters; and methinks
There should be virtue in thy lips to kiss him
Alive again: but if he liv'd, thy kisse
Would kill him, cruell, cruell Cæsarina,
Thou hast no title to him.

Cæ.
More then you,
He was my honour's and my life's preserver.

Ad.
And would you not, if he could live now, love
So brave a man?

Cæ.
They who dispose our Wills,
Left it not in my pow'r to grant him love.

Ad.
A Surgeon! call a Surgeon for the Prince!
[Enter Fromund.
Here comes one that has skill inn Surgery,
Good Fromund, search your noble Master's wound.
No hope?

Fro.
No fear; 'twas but the losse of blood
That made him swoond, he lives, carry him to rest.
O Sir, your Mother's giving up the ghost,
I left her Women chasing her.

Vio.
I'm sure
She deserves death for murdring of her Son:
Good Fromund search Prince Adolph, for he has
A wound at heart.

Ad.
But Violinda gave it;
Come Cæsarina, if our Mother were
Worse then she is, yet she's our Mother still,
Not to be cast away for want of help,
When we see how 'tis with her, I'l be dress'd
For this slight hurt, a scratch upon my breast:
But Violinda shoots into my heart
A poison'd arrow, past the Surgeon's Art.

[Exeunt.