State Life and Honour Tour. Yet all this will be lost when you are married to Marguerite Nem. Never by Heaven I 'm thine with all the heat and vigorous Inspiration of an unflesh'd Lover and so will be while young Limbs and Lechery hold together and that 's a Bond methinks shou'd last till Doomsday Tour. But do you believe if Marguerite shou'd know Nem. The question 's too grave when and where shall I see the Gems thou hast in store Tour. By Noon or thereabouts take a turn in Lunemburg Garden and one if not both shall meet you Nem. And thou'lt appear in Person Tour. With Colours flying a Handkerchief held out and yet methinks it goes against my Conscience Nem. Away that serious look has made thee old Conscience and Consideration in a young Woman too It makes a Bawd of thee before thy time Nay now thou put'st me in Poetick Rapture And I must quote Ronsard to punish thee Call all your Wives to Council and prepare To Tempt Dissemble Flatter Lye and Swear To make her mine use all your utmost skill Vertue An ill-bred crosness in the will Honour a Notion Piety a Cheat Prove but successful Bawds and you are great Come thou wilt meet me Tour. 'T is resolv'd I will till which time thou dear Man Nem. Thou pretty Woman Tour. Thou very dear Man. Nem. Thou very pretty Woman one Kiss Tour. Hey Ho Nem. Now all the Gods go with thee Tour. A word my Lord you are acquainted with these Fops set 'em in the modish way of abusing their Wives they are turning already and that will certainly bring 'em about Nem. Bellamore shall do 't with less suspicion farewell Exit Tour. Hey Iaques Enter Jaques with the Vidam Iaq. Ha! my grave Lord of Chartres welcome as Health as Wine and taking Whores and tell me now the bus'ness of the Court. Vid. Hold it Nemours for ever at defiance Fogs of ill humour damps of Melancholy Old Maids of fifty choak'd with eternal Vapours Stuff it with fulsome Honour dozing Vertue And everlasting dullness husk it round Since he that was the Life the Soul of Pleasure Count Rosidore is dead Nem. Then we may say Wit was and Satyr is a Carcass now I thought his last Debauch wou'd be his Death But is it certain Vid. Yes I saw him dust I saw the mighty thing a nothing made Huddled with Worms and swept to that cold Den Where Kings lye crumbled just like other Men. Nem. Nay then let 's Rave and Elegize together Where Rosidore is now but common clay Whom every wiser Emmet bears away And lays him up against a Winters day He was the Spirit of Wit and had such an art in guilding his Failures that it was hard not to love his Faults He never spoke a Witty thing twice tho to different Persons his Imperfections were catching and his Genius was so Luxuriant that he was forc'd to tame it with a Hesitation in his Speech to keep it in view But oh how awkard how insipid how poor and wretchedly dull is the imitation of those that have all the affectation of his Verse and none of his Wit. Enter Jaques Iaq. My Lord Monsieur Poltrot desires to kiss your Grace's hand Nem. Let 's have him to drive away our Melancholy Vid. I wonder what pleasure you can take in such dull Dogs Asses Fools Nem. But this is a particular Fool Man Fate 's own Fool and perhaps it will never hit the like again he 's ever the same thing yet always pleasing in short he 's a finish'd Fool and has a fine Wife add to this his late leaving the Court of France and going to England to learn breeding Enter Poltrot Pol. My Lord Duke your Grace's most obedient humble Servant My Lord of Chartres and Monsieur Iaques yours Monsieur St. Andre desires your Grace's presence at a Serenade of mine and his together And I must tell your Grace by the way he is a great Master and the fondest thing of my Labours Nem. And the greatest Oaf in the World. Pol. How my Lord Vid. The whole Court wonders you will keep him company Nem. Such a passive Raskal he had his Shins broke last night in the Presence and were it not fear'd you wou'd second him he wou'd be kick'd out of all Society Pol. I Second him my Lord I 'll see him Damn'd e'er I 'll be Second to any Fool in Christendom For to tell your Grace the truth I keep him company and lye at his House because I intend to lye with his Wife a trick I learnt since I went into England where o' my Conscience Cuckoldom is the Destiny of above half the Nation Nem. Indeed Pol. O there 's not such another Drinking Scowring Roaring Whoreing Nation in the World And for little London to my knowledge if a Bill were taken of the weekly Cuckolds it wou'd amount to more than the Number of Christnings and Burials put together Vid. What and were you acquainted with the Wits Pol. O Lord Sir I liv'd in the City a whole year together my Lord Mayor and I and the Common-Council were sworn Brothers I cou'd sing you twenty Catches and Drolls that I made for their Feast-days but at present I 'll only hint you one or two Nem. Pray do us the Favour Sir. Pol. Why look you Sir this is one of my chief ones and I 'll assure your Grace 't was much Sung at Court too O to Bed to me to Bed to me c. Nem. Excellent incomparable Pol. Why is it not my Lord This is no Kickshaw there 's substance in the Air and weight in the words nay I 'll give your Grace a taste of another the Tune is let me see Ay Ay Give me the Lass that is true Country bred But I 'll present your Grace with some words of my own that I made on my Wife before I married her as she sate singing one day in a low Parlour and playing on the Virginals Nem. For Heavens sake oblige us dear pleasant Creature Pol. I 'll swear I 'm so ticklish you 'll put me out my Lord for I am as wanton as any little Bartholomew Bore-Pig Viâ— Dear soft delicate Rogue sing Pol. Nay I protest my Lord I vow and swear but you 'll make me run to a Whore Lord Sir what do you mean Nem. Come then begin Poltrot Sings PHillis is soft Phillis is plump And Beauty made up this delicate lump Like a Rose bud she looks like a Lilly she smells And her Voice is a Note above sweet Philomel's Now a little Smutty my Lord is the fashion II. Her Breasts are two Hillocks where Hearts lye and pant In the Herbage so soft for a thing that they want But Mum Sir for that tho a notable Iest For if I shou'd name it you 'd call me a Beast Enter St. Andre without his Hat and Wig. St. A. My Lord the Serenade is just begun and if you don't come just in the nick I beg your Grace's
wond'rous well And yet you knew not what Speak like a Friend What is the cause my Lord Nem. Shall I deal plainly with you I 'm not well P. C. I do believe it how hap'ned the Distemper Nem. It is too deep to search Nor can I tell you P. C. Then you 're no Friend Shou'd Cleve thus answer to Nemours I cannot Say rather that you will not trust a Man You do not love Nem. By Heav'n I do P. C. By Heav'n you do Yet 't is too deep to search For such a shallow Friend Nem. Of all Mankind You ought not P. C. Nay the rest Nem. It is not fit Be satisfied I 'll bear it to my Grave Whate'er it be P. C. You are in Love my Lord And if you do not Swear But where 's the need You start you change you are another Man You blush you 're all constraint you turn away Nem. Why take it then 't is true I am in Love In Torture Racks in all the Hells of Love Of hopeless restless and eternal Love. P. C. Her name my Lord. Nem. Her name my Lord to you P. C. To me Confusion Plagues and Death upon me Why not to me And wherefore did you say Of all Mankind I ought not There you stopt But wou'd have said To pry into this business Yet speak to ease the Troubles of my Soul By all our Friendship by the Life thou gav'st me I do conjure thee thunder in my Ears 'T is Chartres that thou lov'st Chartres my Wife Nem. Your Wife my Lord P. C. My Wife my Lord and I must have you own it Nem. I will not tell you Sir who 't is I love Yet think me not so base were it your Wife That all the subtlest Wit of Earth or Hell Shou'd make me vent a Secret of that nature To any Man on Earth much less to you P. C. Yet you cou'd basely tell it to the Vidam And he to all the Court But I waste time By all the boiling Venom of my Passion I 'll make you own it e'er we part Dispatch Say thou hast Whor'd my Wife Damnation on me Pronounce me Cuckold Nem. But then I give my self the Lye Who told you just before I wou'd not speak Tho I had done it Which I swear I have not Beside I fear you are going Mad. P. C. Draw then and make it up For if thou dost not own what I demand What you both know and have complotted on me Tho neither will confess I swear agen That one of us must fall Nem. Then take my Life P. C. I will by Heav'n if thou refuse me Justice Draw then for if thou dost not I will kill thee And tell my Wife thou basely didst confess Thy Guilt at last in hopes to save thy Life Nem That is a blast indeed that Honour shrinks at Therefore I draw but Oh! be witness Heav'n With such a trembling Hand and bleeding Heart As if I were to fight against my Father Therefore I beg thee by the name of Friend Which once with half this Suit wou'd have dissolv'd thee I beg thee gentle Cleve to hold thy hand P. C. I 'm Deaf as Death that calls for one or both Cleve is disarm'd Nemours gives him his Sword agen Nem. Then give it me I arm thy hand agen Against my Heart against this Heart that loves thee Thrust then for by the Blood that bears my Life Thou shalt not know the name of her I love Not but I swear upon the point of Death Your Wife 's as clear from me as Heav'n first made her P. C. No more my Lord you 've giv'n me twice my Life Nem. Are you not hurt P. C. Alass 't is not so well I have no Wound but that which Honour makes And yet there 's something cold upon my Heart I hope 't is Death and I shall shortly pay you With Chartres love for you deserve her better Nem. No Sir you shall not you shall live my Lord And long enjoy your beauteous vertuous Bride You shall Dear Prince why are you then so cold P. C. I cannot speak But thus and thus there 's something rises here Nem. I 'll wait you home nay shake these drops away And hang upon my arm P. C. I will do any thing So you will promise never to upbraid me Nem. I swear I will not P. C. But will you love me too As formerly Nem. I swear far more than ever P. C. Thou know'st my Nature soft yet Oh such Love Such Love as mine and injur'd as I thought Wou'd spleen the Gaul-less Turtle wou'd it not Nem. It wou'd by Heav'n You make a Woman of me Weeping P. C. Why any thing thou sayst to humour me Yet it is kind and I must love these Tears I hope my Heart will break and then we 're ev'n Yet if this cruel Love thy Cleve shou'd kill Remember after Death thou lov'st me still Exeunt SCENE II. Enter Tournon with the Vidam Tour. SO let that corner be your Post and as soon as ever you see St. Andre come stalking in his Dream slip to his Lady and when you have agreed upon the Writings I 'll be ready to bring you oâ—â— with a Witness Vid. Thou Dear obliging Tour. No more o' that away mark but how easily those that are gifted with Discretion bring things about in the name of Goodness let Men and Women have their Risks but still be careful of the Main Here 's a hot-headed Lord goes mad for a prating Girl Treats her Presents her Flames for her Dies for her till the Fool complies for pure Love and when the bus'ness fails is forc'd to live at last by the love of his Footmen but she that makes a firm Bargain is commonly thought a great Soul for my Lord having consider'd on 't thinks her a Person of depth and so resolves to have it out of her But why do I talk so my self when there 's something to do certainly I shou'd have made a rare Speaker in a Parliament of Women or a notable Head to a Female Jury when his Lordship gravely puts the question whither it be Satis or Non Satis or Nunquam Satis and we bring it in Ignoramus Ha! but who comes here I must attend for Bellamore Enter Poltrot Celia over-hearing Pol. My Wife and I went to Bed together and I 'll warrant full she was of Expectation so white and clean and much inclin'd to laugh and lay at her full length as who wou'd say come eat me Cel. Said she so sweet Sir Pol. Not a bit by the Lord not I not I Cel. Alas nice Gentleman Pol. A Farmer wou'd say this was barbarously done because he loves Beef But I have Plover in reserve Ha! St. Andre heark I hear him bustle O Lord how my heart goes pit a pat nay I dreamt last night I was Gelt Enter St. Andre in his sleep The Vidam goes in 'T is he 't is he by the twilight I see him Ay now the politick head
'T is true Nemours told not the Ladies name Nor wou'd confess himself to be the Party But yet the Court in general does believe it Pâ—incess C. I am undone my Fame is lost for ever And death Irene must be my remedy 'T is true indeed I laid my Bosom op'n I shew'd my Heart to that ungrateful Cleve Who since in dangerous search of him I love To the eternal ruine of my Honour Has trusted a third Person But away I hear his tread and am resolv'd to tax him Enter Princess C. Ah! Sir what have you done if you must kill me Are there not Daggets Pois'n But the Jealous Are Cruel still and thoughtful in Revenge And single Death 's too little must your will Of knowing Names my duty durst not tell you Oblige you to betray me to another So to divulge the Secret of my Soul That the whole Court must know it P. C. Ha! know what Know my Dishonour have you told it then Princess C. No 't is your self 't is you reveal'd it Sir To gain a Confident for more Discovery A Lady of the Queen 's just now declar'd it To your eternal Shame you have divulg'd it She had it from the Vidam Sir of Chartres And he from the Duke Nemours P. C. Nemours How Madam said you What Nemours Nemours Does Nemours know you love him Hell and Furies And that I know it too and not revenge it Princess C. That 's yet to seek he will not own himself To be concern'd he offers not at names But yet 't is found 't is known believ'd by all He cannot hold it 't will be shortly posted That Cleve your Wife 's that curst dishonour'd She You told him of P. C. Is 't possible I told him Peace Peace and if it lyes in Humane Power To reason calmly tell me Murd'ress tell me Compose that Face of flush'd Hypocrisie And answer to a truth Was it my Interest To speak of this was I not rather ty'd To wish it buried in the Grave in Hell Whence it might never rise to blot my Honour But you have seen him by my hopes of Heaven You have met and interchang'd your secret Souls On that Complotted since I bore so tamely Your first Confession I shou'd bear the latter Princess C. Believe it if you please P. C. I must believe it This last Proceeding has unmask'd your Soul He sees you ev'ry hour and knows you love him Nay for your greater freedom you have joyn'd To make this loath'd detested Cleve your Stale Ha I believ'd you might o'ercome this passion So well you knew to Charm me with the show Of seeming Vertue 'till I lost my Reason Princes C. 'T is likely Sir it was but seeming Vertue And you did ill to judge so kindly of me I was mistaken too in that Confession Because I thought that you wou'd do me Justice P. C. You were mistaken when you thought I wou'd Sure you forgot that I was desperate Sentenc'd and doom'd by Fate or rather damn'd To love you to my Grave And cou'd I bear A Rival what and when I was your Husband And when you own'd your passion to my face Confess'd you lov'd me much But lov'd him more Ha Is not this enough to make me mad Princess C. You have the power to set all right agen Why do you not end me P. C. No I 'll end my self My Toughts are grown too violent for my Reason By this last usage Oh! Thou hast undone me I know not what This ought not to be thine I have offended and wou'd Sue for pardon But yet I blush the Treason is too gross After that most unnatural Confession I wonder now that I have liv'd so long Confess and then divulge make me your Bawd It Scents too far the God of Love flies wide He gets the Wind and stops the Nose at this No more Farewel False Chartres False Nemours False World False All since Chartres is not true But you your Wish with lov'd Nemours shall have And shortly see your Husband in the Grave Exit Princess C. Sola False World False Cleve False Chartres False Nemours Farewel to all a long and last Farewel From all Converse to Deserts let me fly And in some gloomy Cave forgotten lye My Bower at Noon the shade of some old Trees With whistl'ing Winds t'endulge my pomp of ease And lulling Murmurs rowl'd from neighb'ring Seas Where I may sometimes hasten to the Shore And to the Rocks and Waves my Loss deplore Where when I feel my hour of Fate draws on Lest the false World shou'd claim a parting groan My Mothers Ghost may rise to fix my mind And leave no thought of tenderness behind Finis Actus Tertii ACT IV. SCENE I. Musick Songs Maskers c. Nemours with Musick Lady Poltrot Nem. HE has confess'd to me he intends to Cuckold St. Andre when he walks in his sleep Therefore if Love shou'd inspire me to nick the opportunity I hope you will not bar the door which your Husband op'ns L. Pol. Ingrateful Monster Nem. Ingrateful that 's certain and it lyes in your power to make him a Monster L. P. I dare not Nem. What L. P. Trust you Nem. Nay then I am sure thou wilt let me but in to shew the power you have over me L. P. As how my Lord Nem. Why when I have thee in my Arms by Heav'n I 'll quit my Joys at thy desire L. P. That will indeed be a perfect tryal of your love come then through the Garden back-stairs and when you see the Candle put out thrust op'n the door Nem. By Heav'n I 'll eat thy hand Thou dear sweet Seducer how it fires my Fancy to steal into a Garden to rustle through the Trees to stumble up a narrow pair of back stairs to whisper through the hole of the door to kiss it open and fall into thy Arms with a flood of Joy L. P. Farewel the company comes I must leave you a while to engage with my Husband you 'll fall asleep before the hour Nem. If I do the very transport of Imagination shall carry me in my sleep to thy Bed and I 'll wake in the Act. Exit L. Pol. So there 's one in the Fernbrake and if she stir till Morning I have lost my aim but now why what have we here a Hugonot Whore by this light Have I For the forward brisk she that promis'd me the Ball Assignation that said there was nothing like slipping out of the crowd into a corner breathing short an Ejaculation and returning as if we came from Church Let me see I 'll put on my Mask fling my Cloak over my shoulder and view 'em as they pass not thou nor thou Enter Tournon in the Habit of a Hugonot Tour. Ah thou unclean Person have I hunted thee there like a Hart from the Mountains to the Vallies and thou would'st not be found verily thou hast been amongst the Daughters of the Philistines Nay if you are Innocent stand before
's lodg'd Ne. Now do I know the Precise will call me damn'd Rogue for wronging my Friend especially such a soft sweet natur'd Friend as this gentle Prince Verily I say they lye in their Throats were the gravest of 'em in my condition and thought it shou'd never be known they wou'd rouze up the Spirit cast the dapper Cloak leave off their humming and haing and fall too like a Man of Honour Exit Pedro. I 'll face him till he enters the Bower and then call my Lord. Ex. Scene the Bower Lights Song The Princess of Cleve Irene SONG LOvely Selina Innocent and Free From all the dangerous Arts of Love Thus in a Melancholy Grove Enjoy'd the sweetness of her Privacy Till th' envious Gods designing to undo her Dispatcht the Swain not unlike them to wo her It was not long e'er the design did take A gentle Youth born to perswade Deceiv'd the too too easie Maid Her Scrip and Garlands soon she did forsake And rashly told the Secrets of her Heart Which the fond Man would ever more impart False Florimel Ioy of my Heart said she 'T is hard to Love and Love in vain To Love and not be Lov'd again And why shou'd Love and Prudence disagree Pity ye Powers that sit at ease above If e'er you knew what 't is to be in Love. Princess C. Alas Irene I do believe Nemours The Man thou represents him yet Oh! Heav'n And Oh my Heart in spite of my resolves Spite of those matchless Virtues of my Husband I love the Man my reason bids me hate Yet grant me some few hours ye Saints to live That I may try what Innocence so arm'd As mine with vows can do in such a cause The War 's begun the War of Love and Vertue And I am fixt to conquer or to dye Iren. Your Fate is hard and since you honour'd me With the important Secret of your Life I 've labour'd for the Remedy of Love. Princess C. I must to Death own thee my better Angel Thou know'st the struglings of my wounded Soul Hast seen me strive against this lawless Passion Till I have lain like Slaves upon the Rack My Veins half burst my weary Eye-balls fixt My Brows all cover'd with big drops of Sweat Which strangling Grief wrung from my tortur'd Brain Ir. Alass I weep to see you thus agen Princess C. Thou hast heard me curse the hour when first I saw The fatal charming Face of lov'd Nemours Hast heard the Death-bed Counsel of my Mother Yet what can this avail spite of my Soul The Nightly Warnings from her dreadful Shroud I love Nemours I languish for Nemours And when I think to banish him my Breast My Heart rebels I feel a gorgeing pain That choaks me up tremblings from Head to Foot A shog of Blood and Spirits Mad-mens Fears Convulsions gnawing Griefs and angry Tears Enter Nemours Ha! but behold My Lord Nem. O! Pardon me Spare me a minute's space and I am gone Princes C. Is this a time Sir Nem. O! I must speak or dye Princess C. Dye then e'er thus presume to violate The Honour of your Friend your own and mine Nem. Yet hear me and I swear by all things Sacred Never to see you more Princess C. Speak then And keep your word P. C. Horrour and Death Nem. Did you but know what 't is to love like me Without a dawn of Bliss to dream all day To pass the night in broken sleeps away Toss'd in the restless tides of Hopes and Fears With Eyes for ever running o'er with Tears To leave my Couch and fly to beds of Flow'rs T' invoke the Stars to curse the dragging hours To talk like Mad-men to the Groves and Bow'rs Cou'd you know this yet blame my tortur'd Love If thus it throws my Body at your Feet Oh! fly not hence Vouchsafe but just to view me in despair I ask not Love but Pity from the Fair. Princess C. O Heavens inspire my Heart Nem. The Heavenly Powers Accept the poorest Sacrifice we bring A Slave to them 's as welcome as a King. Behold a Slave that Glories in your Chains Ah! with some shew of Mercy view my Pains Your piercing Eyes have made their splendid way Where Lightning cou'd not pass Even through my Soul their pointed Lustre goes And Sacred Smart upon my Spirit throws Yet I your Wounds with as much Zeal desire As Sinners that wou'd pass to Bliss through Fire Yes Madam I must love you to my Death I 'll sigh your name with my last gasp of Breath Princess C. No more I have heard you Sir as you desir'd Enter the Prince of Cleve Reply not but withdraw if possible Fix to your word and let us trust our Fates Be gon I charge you speak not but retire Exit Nem. P. C. Excellent Woman and Oh! matchless Friend Love Friendship Honour Poison Daggers Death Falls Princess C. O Heaven Irene help help the Prince my Lord. My Dearest Cleve wake from this Dream of Death And hear me speak P. C. Curse on my Disposition That thus permits me bear the Wounds of Honour And Oh! thou foolish gentle love-sick Heart Why didst thou let my hand from stabbing both Princess C. Behold 't is yet my Lord within your Power To give me Death P. C. I do entreat thee leave me I 'm bound for Death my self and I wou'd make My passage easie if you wou'd permit me All that I ask thee for the Heart I gave thee And for the Life I love in thy behalf Is that thou'dst leave me to my self a while And this poor honest Friend Princess C. I wou'd obey you But cannot stir I know I know my Lord You think that I design'd to meet Nemours This night but by the Powers above I Swear P. C. O! do not Swear for Chartres credit me There is a Power that can and will revenge Therefore dear Soul for I must love thee still If thou wilt speak confess repent thy fault And thou perhaps may'st find a door of Mercy For me by all my hopes of Heav'n I swear I freely now forgive thee Oh! my Heart Pedro thy arm let me to bed Princess C. And do you then refuse My help P. C. In Honour Chartres after such a Fall I ought not to permit that thou shou'dst touch me Princess C. But Sir I will your arm I 'll hold you all Thus in the closest strictest dearest Clasps Nor shall you dye believing my Dishonor I swear I knew not of Nemours his coming Nor had I spoke those words which yet were guiltless Had he not vow'd never to see me more By our first Meeting by our Nuptial Joys By my dead Mother's Ghost by your own Spirit Which Oh! I fear is taking leave for ever I swear that this is true P. C. I do believe thee Thou hast such Power such Charms in those dear Lips As might perswade me that I am not dying Off Pedro by my most untimely Fate I swear I 'm reconcil'd and heark thee
Mephostophilus as this too Cel. O! my Dear there are not such a pair of Fiends upon Earth agen Why they look upon 't as a Favour to our Sex if they Ravish a Woman for you must know they were formerly Heads of the Banditti Pol. Well and I must praise thy Discretion in Sacrificing thy Body for o' my Conscience if they had seen this Smock-face of mine I had gone to pot too before my Execution Cel. They sent their Pages this Morning to know whether it was our pleasure to have your Throats cut But we answered 'em all was well and desir'd 'em as ever they hop'd to see us agen to stir no further in the matter Pol. Mum Mum dear sweet Soul secure my Life and thou shalt command me for the future with as full a swing as thou canst desire only like those that use that exercise let it be too and fro sometimes at home and sometimes abroad and we 'll be as merry as the day is long Cel. Be thou but true to me and like the Indian Wives I 'll not out-live thee Pol. And I 'll Swear now that was kindly said as I hope for mercy but it makes me weep what burn for me And shall I not return I will I will I will return when thou dost burn Enter St. Andre Elianor Nay when thy Body in the Fire appears My Ghost shall rise and quench it with his Tears St. A. All Flesh is Grass that 's certain we 're all Mortal the Court 's in Mourning for the Prince of Cleve the Vidam of Chartres is extreamly griev'd Heark you Poltrot sure as I am alive he dy'd of Jealousie Well Nelle for this last care of thine I Swear to be constant to thy Sheets and as thou sayst I think it will not be amiss to tye me to thee now and then for fear of the worst Ha! Poltrot Pol. Ha! Bully I heard your kind Expressions to your Nelle and I 'll Swear I 'll vie thee with who shall love most for I 'll Swear these daily Examples make my hair stand an end Cut my Throat and rip me open he shall Cuckold me all over first like the Man in the Almanack nay he shall Ravish her while I hold the door to my own deflow'ring SCENE II. Tournon Nemours Nem. REsolv'd never to see me more and give up her Honour to the Dauphin that puling sniveling Prince that looks as if he suck'd still or were always in a Milk Diet for the Sins of his Florentine Mother Tour. Bless me you are jealous Nem. I confess it The last time I had her in Disguise she made such Discoveries as I shall never forget Lose her I must not no I 'll lose a Limb first therefore go tell her tell her the Prince of Cleve's Death has wrought my Conversion I grow weary of my wild Courses repent of my Sins am resolv'd to leave off Whoreing and marry his Wife Tour. So the Town talks indeed Nem. The Town is as it always was and will be a Talk a Hum a Buz and a great Lye Do as I bid thee and tell her just as you left me I was going to make my Court to the Princess upon her Husband's Tomb which is true too I mean a Visit by the way of Consolation not but I knew it the only opportunity to catch a Woman in the undress of her Soul nay I wou'd choose such a time for my life and 't is like the rest of those starts and one of the Secrets of their Nature Why they melt nay in Plagues Fire Famine War or any great Calamity Mark it Let a man stand but right before 'em and like hunted Hares they run into his lap Tour. But who 's the Instrument to bring you to her Nem. Her Uncle the Vidam she lies at his House immur'd in a dark room with her Husband's Image in her view and so resolves he says for Death However I 'll sound her in the ebb of her Soul if my Boat run aground 't is but calling for Marguerite and she 'll weep a Tide that shall set me afloat agen As thus I 'll lay the Dauphin in her dish nose her in the Tiptoe of her Pride Railing Lying Laming Hanging Drowning Dying and she comes about agen Exit Tour. Go thy ways Petronius nay if he were dying too with his Veins cut he wou'd call for Wine Fiddles and Whores and laugh himself into the other World. Enter La March. Where 's Marguerite La M. She follows like a Wind with swollen Cheeks ruffled Hair and glareing Eyes the Princess of Cleve has found her Fury nor will she yet believe it SCENE III. The Princess of Cleve Irene in Mourning Song as the Princess kneels at the State. Princess C. DEad thou dear Lord Yet from thy Throne of Bliss If any thing on Earth be worth thy view Look down and hear me hear my Sighs and Vows Till Death has made me cold and Wax like thee Water shall be my Drink and Herbs my Food The Marble of my Chappel be my Bed The Altars Steps my Pillows while all night Stretch'd out I groaning lye upon the Floor Beat my swoll'n Breasts and thy dear loss deplore Iren. Ah! Madam what a Life have you propos'd Princess C. Too little all for an Offence like mine Yet Death will shortly purge my dross away For Oh! Irene where 's the Joy I find it here Yes I shall dye without those violent means That might have hazarded my Soul O Heaven O thou that seest my Heart and know'st my Terrors Wilt thou forgive those Crimes I cou'd not help And wou'd not hide Iren. Doubt not but your Account Shall stand as fair in his Eternal Book As any Saints above Princess C. Take take me then From this bad World quench these Rebellious thoughts For Oh! I have a pang a longing wish To see the Luckless Face of lov'd Nemours To gaze a while and take one last Farewel Like one that is too loose a Limb 'T is gone It was corrupt a Gangreen to my Honour Yet I methinks wou'd view the bleeding part Shudder a little Weep and grudge at parting But by the Soul of my triumphant Saint I swear this longing is without a guilt Nor shall it ever be by my appointment Enter Nemours Iren. But if he shou'd attempt this cruel visit How wou'd your Heart receive him Princess C. With such Temper So clear and calm in height of my Misfortune As thou thy self perhaps wou'dst wonder at Iren. Ha! but he 's here Princess C. Is 't possible my Lord Has then my Uncle thus betray'd my Honour Nem. Start not nor wonder Madam but forgive The Vidam who has thus entrap'd your Virtue To end a ling'ring Wretch That dies for Love Princess C. For Love my Lord is this a time for Love In Tears and Blacks the Livery of Death But what 's your hope if I shou'd stay to hear you Ah! What can you expect from rigorous Vertue From Chastity as cold