Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A02455
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The Queene of Arragon A tragi-comedie.
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Habington, William, 1605-1654.
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1640
(1640)
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STC 12587; ESTC S120594
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37,547
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68
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of this great state a most Contagious Feaver Queene Pray no Metaphor Decast. You have invited warre to interrupt With its rude noise the musique of our peace A forraigne enemie gathers the fruite The sweate and labour of your subjects planted In the coole shadow of the Vine we pruin'd He wantonly lyes downe and roughly bids The owner presse the grape that with the juyce His blood may swell up to lascivious heates Queene My Lord I answere not th' effects of war But I must pay Castile all thankefull service For his faire charitie Decast. Doe you then Madam Reckon on mischiefe as a charitie Queene Yes such a mischiefe as is mercifull And I a Queene opprest But how dares he Whose duty ought with reverence obey And not dispute the councells of his Princesse Question my actions Whence my Lord springs this Ill tutor'd priviledge Decast. From the zeale I owe The honour of our Nation Over which Kings rule but at the Courtesie of Time Queen You are too bold And I must tell your pride It swells to insolence For were your nature Not hoodwink'd by your interest you would praise The vertue of his courage who tooke Armes To an injured Ladies rescue Decast. T was ambition Greedy to make advantage of that breach Betweene you and your people arm'd Castile Unpittyed else you might have wept away The houres of your restraint Queen Poore erring man Could thy Arts raise a tempest blacker yet Such as would fright thy selfe It could not for One moment cloud the splendor of my soule Misfortune may benight the wicked she Who knowes no guilt can sinke beneath no feare Decast. Your Majestie mistakes the humble aime Of my addresse I come not to disturbe Th' harmonious calme your soule enjoyes May pleasure Live there enthron'd till you your selfe shall wooe Death to enlarge it May felicities Great as th' Idaeas of Philosophie Waite still on your delight May fate conspire To make you rich and envied Queen Pray my Lord Explaine the riddle By the cadence of Your language I could guesse you have intents Farre gentler than your actions Decast. If your eare Great Madam would convey into your heart The story of my love My love a flame Queen Leave off this history of love and flame And honestly confesse your feares my Lord Least Castile should correct you Decast. Correct me No Madam I have forc't them t' a retreate And given my fine young Generall cause to wish He had not left his amorous attempts On Ladies to assault our Citie Queen But he is not wounded Decast. Not to death perhaps But certainely w' have open'd him a veine Will cure the Feaver of his blood Queene O stay Decast. Torment And doth she weepe I might have falne Downe from some murdering precipice to dust And mist the mercie of one teare though it Would have redeem'd me backe to life agen Accurst be that felicitie that must Depend on womans passion Queene Florentio If in my quarrell thou too suddenly Art lost i th' shades of death ô let me finde The holy vault where thy pale earth must lye There I will grow and wither Decast. This is strange My heart swells much too bigge to be kept in Queen But if that Providence which rules the world Hath to preserve the stocke of vertue kept Thee yet alive Decast. And what if yet alive Pray recollect your reason and consider My long and faithfull service to your crowne The fame of my progenitors and that Devotion the whole Kingdome beares me How Hath nature punisht me that bringing all The strength of argument to force your judgement I cannot move your love Queen My Lord you plead With so much arrogance and tell a story So gallant for your selfe as if I were Exposed a prize toth ' cunningst Orator Decast. No Madam humbler far than the tand slave kneeles Tyed to the Oare I heere throw downe my selfe And all my victories Dispose of me To death for what hath life merits esteeme What tye Alas can I have to the World Since you disdaine my love Floria. Will you permit The Generall kneele so long Queen Feare not Floriana My Lord knowes how to rise though I should strive To hinder it Decast. Here statue-like I le fix For ever till your pity for your love I must despaire enforce a life within me Alarum and Enter Ossuna Ossuna O my Lord To arme to arme The enemie encouraged By a strange leader wheel'd about the towne And desperately surpris'd the carelesse guard One gate 's already theirs Decast. Have I your licence Queen To augment your owne command and keepe me still An humble captive Decast. Madam your disdaine Distracts me more than all th' assaults of fortune Exeunt all but the Queene Floriana and Cleantha Queen My fate O whether dost thou leade me Why Is my youth destin'd to the stormes of warre What is my crime you heavenly powers that it Must challenge blood for expiation Clean. Madam Queen Fortune O cruell For which side soe're Is lost I suffer either in my people Or slaughter of my friends No victory Can now come welcome the best chance of warre Makes me how ere a mourner Cleant. Madam you Have lost your vertue which so often vowed A cleere aspect what cloud soever darken'd Your present glory Queen I had thoughts Cleantha But they are vanisht what shall we invent To take off feare and trouble from this houre Poore Floriana Thou art trembling now With thought of wounds and death to which the courage Of thy feirce husband like a headstrong jade May runne away with him But cleere thy sorrowes If he fall in this quarrell thou shalt have Thy choise 'mong the Castilian Lords And give My judgement faith there be brave men emong them Flor. Madam I have vowed my life to a Cloyster Should I survive my Lord Queen And thou art fearefull Thou shalt be forc't to make thy promise good Alasse poore soule Inclosure and course dyet Much Disciple and early prayer will ill Agree with thy complection There 's Cleantha She hath a heart so wean'd from vanitie To her a Nunnery would be a Pallace Clean. Yes if your Majestie were Abbesse Madam But Cloyster up the fine young Lords with us And ring us up each midnight to a Masque In steed of Mattins And I stand prepar'd To be profest without probation Drum beats Flor. Harke What noyse is that Queen T is that of death and mischiefe My griefes but I le discemble them Yet why Cleantha being the sole beautious Idoll Of all the superstitious youth at Court Remainst thou yet unmarried Cleant. Madam I Have many servants but not one so valiant As dares attempt to marry me Queen There 's not a wit but under some feign'd name Implores thy beauty sleepe cannot close up Thy eyes but the sad world benighted is Or else their sonnets are Apocriphall And when thou wakest the Larke salutes the day Breaking from the bright East of thy faire eyes And if mong thy admirers