Selected quad for the lemma: fire_n
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A40858
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The Famous tragedy of King Charles I as it was acted before White-hall, by the fanatical servants of Oliver Cromwell.
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1680
(1680)
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Wing F385; ESTC R32020
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23,485
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28
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Olympick vigour can alone Ding down these Rebels unto Phlegeton Enter Three Soldiers Armed Ha what are you Sol. Your Executioners Sir Cha. You are our welcomest Friends who is alloted to make his Exit first 1. Sol. Your self must lead the Dance of Death Sir Cha. Here then I bid fairwel unto this Stage of Misery my Life hath been but one continued Scene woven with perturbations and Anxieties But stay whither must now my fleeting Soul take Wing Into you Starry Mansion or Steep Tartarus up to the Milky way she'll take her flight Where Souls of Heroes do enjoy their bliss Where all Celestial comforts meet and kiss Mankinds Redeemer Oh Emanuel Who in Mans shape on Earth were pleas'd to dwell Receive my better part are you prepar'd Sol. We are Sir Cha. Charge me then home I love to chew those Winter-plums they are those Cordial comfits I accept as sick Men do great Gallens Antidotes methinks the Earth goes round Copernicus thou didst relate a Truth that Tellus ever hath an Ague Fit Sol wrap thy Glorious Head within a Cloud or if thou needs wilt view my Destiny put on a Mask of Blood Death is but Somnus Harbinger we visit his All-peaceful Monarchy e're we arrive at Heavens Golden Gates where such as knock with a Religious Hand do never miss of Entrance Let me Embrace thee George e're I part hence Thou wilt not long survive me Shoot Shoot They Embrace Incomparable Strafford see I come To wait on thee in blest Elizium They shoot So you have done it bravely you are good Marks-Men I applaud you for't even in Death so many Passages are allow'd my Soul She knows not which to Issue out at this Fabrick of my Flesh now begins to Totter like to some City for it's Peoples Sins rock'd by the humerous Winds what a fierce Combate is there now maintain'd betwixt my wounded Heart and mighty Mors who grasps it b'twixt his Hands squeezing it like a Spunge so furious Boreas smites the Solid Oakes that on Mount Pelion grow making them Nod like unto feeble Reeds George thy Hand my Twins of Light have lost their wonted Property Death with his Icy-fingers seals them up Farewel Great CHARLES I Die thy Loyal Servant George we shall meet some Minuits hence I doubt not in a place where all Joys injoy one Center the Worlds great Architectresse never saw two of Her Sons Murther'd so Barbarously after fair Quarter promised Therefore great Jove if thou lov'st Loyal Breath Take vengeance on the Authors of my Death Sir Geo. There crack'd the Cords of Life Oh noble Lucas He dies let me breathe out my Soul upon thy Azure Lips So Kisses him Brave a compleat Man no Monsters these excepted would have Butcher'd my turn is next is it not Sol. It is Sir Geo. Nor would I purchase Life with one Intreaty this Object so inflames me I am grown weary of this Fleshly Weed and fain would put it off exchanging it for an Immortal Robe Invelloped with Carbuncles and Saphires I but to have our Lives bereft by a sharp violent Death to Sleep in a thin shrowd involv'd in feigned Earth our Nerves and Atteries shrunk up like sing'd Lute-strings or the wither'd Wreath of some Fam'd Heroe made away in the dark for to converse with Worms and half form'd Creatures such as the slime of Seven-Headed Nile produceth by the aid of Phoebus Beams Oh! there's a Contemplation that would stagger the most resolved Spirit but Destiny must be Obey'd Death is still Death thongh diversly inflicted To have ones Throat sluc'd with a Golden Knife or to be thrust through with a Silver Sword mitigates not the Wound more than the sufferance But Oh ye vengeful Furies of dark Hell ye Three-fell Sisters of steep Erebus awful Aenyo all ye dreadful Hags ominous to Mortals forsake your Black Cimerian Cells and with your steely Whips ascend the Earth Lash Lash Traytors to despair and Obliquy let Strife Contention Fraud Guile and deep horror seize on great Charles his Foes severing their strength and frustrating their Hopes till they sink lower underneath their Treasons then Plumets cast into the Baltick Sea Now do your Office I am prepar'd Oh! you have They shoot put Balls of Wild-fire in my Bowels I am but all one Aetna Farewel base gloomy World in which deluded Man ravish'd with Toyes hunts after Bubbles till them he break and vanisheth as he had never been I sink beneath the burthen of my own weight would with my Fall the Machiny of the World might be Unriverted and shook to pieces the Air commixt with Earth the humid with the tumid Element and active Fire contesting against them both reducing all to the Original Chaos but I contend in vain the Gods created Man but for their sport and its fit I should fullfil their Ends wishing but not prevailing I spy the pure Immaculate Soul of Lucas Travailing through the Air to find a residence Stay gentle Spirit company is good when tedious Journies are prescribed we'll both fix in one Sphere when looking down we will behold and smile To see these seeming Saints but real Friends Fall by their devilishly devised Ends. 1. Sol. The Traytors both are Dead He dies 2. Sol. Traytors those are Traytors whose most rigorous Doom we have Obey'd in Murdering these Brave Men. 3. Sol. How's is this let's seize upon him 1. Sol. Do and make hast to most assur'd Damnation 2. Sol. I am no longer of your Base Society Heaven Pardon Draws what is past my future Deeds shall amply expiate my former Crimes the Blood of Noble Lucas and Brave Lisle On Rainsborow's base Head I will requite And send his Soul unto Eternal Night Exit 1. Sol. Let us remove the Bodies and make after him Exeunt bearing the Bodies The end of the Third Act. ACT IV. Enters Peters with Mrs. Lambert Pet. THis he impos'd as a Command it hath not been my Practice to to solicite in Causes of this kind for other Men. Mrs. Lamb. Too soon you have made Tryal of your skill doth your Grave Habit suit with such Course Employment Reverend Sir Pet. Faith Mistress among Friends the outward Garb ought not to cause a Nicety He is my Honoured Patron took me half frozen from the Foodful Earth and warm'd me in his Bosom and 'twere a dull Ingratitude in me not to reward his Bounty with my service The Radiant Lustre of your Star-like Eyes makes him to Bow as your Obsequious Vassal whom Thousands count it Honour to Obey so great an Influence hath your excellent Beauty upon his manly Faculties He's now return'd deck'd with Triumphant Wreaths from chasing the Blew-bonnets to their Mountains having taught that stubborn People his Name can make the Genius of their Country tremble the Politick Havilton is his Prisoner all Knees bow to him as Great Caesars Rival nothing doth want for to compleat his Conquest but your Assent to Love him Mrs. Lamb. Why so I do and all Men else that do retain