vindicate this Lady 1 Priest Enough enough fie let the Lady pass 2 Priest Madam your slaves 3 Priest Make room there for this Lady Pope Ten thousand Saints reward you for this kindness 1 Priest We are your Vassals Vshering her to the door 2 Priest Madam your faithful Servants Pope Such an Escape kind Fate Exit led out by her friend the fourth Priest Sax. Horrour unspeakable What Monster has this night slept in my arms Do I live speak move walk Is yon your Heav'n Your Earth I tread on or your Air I breath in And is this load of Nature Flesh and Bloud Or is it all a Dream or am I chang'd To some incarnate Devil doom'd to walk Deaths burning plains converse with Imps and Goblins Tread the dark Mazes of eternal night And sleep with Hags and Succubas Oh the vast Feavour of my burning Bloud Some Ocean quench me or some Mountain swallow me Not Christian slaves wrapt up in Pitch and light Like burning Tapers to the Savage Nero Not Hercules in his invenom'd shirt Nor Lucifer at his first plunge in Hell Felt half the Fires my raging Entrails swell Exeunt The Scene changes to a private Apartment of the Pope Enter Pope Lorenzo and Amiran Pope Oh my Lorenzo I am undone for ever Lor. How Madam Heav'n forbid Pope Sleeping this night In my dear Saxons arms by some curst accident The scene of our delights was set on fire Straight from his Bed the frighted Saxon leapt And thunder'd in my Ears Wake wake my Angeline Oh 't was a fatal sound not the last Trumpet Shall wake the Damn'd to greater pains than mine Curst be that hour the blazing Fire-brands like A Taper to a wandring Midnight-Ghost Served but to shew the Fiend these Eyes discover'd Lor. Discover'd Death and Furies Pope Not th' enraged Oedipus Alarm'd from his incestuous Mothers Bed Raved half so loud as he But to sum all The Terrours of this hideous night The ghastly form of the old poyson'd Saxon Burst thro' the Marble-floor and with a Torch Dipt in the sulphurous Lake from whence he rose In distinct Characters of Bloud and Fire Writ MURDER in the blazing Roof above us Lor. Oh you distract me How got you off How could you scape with life Pope By Miracle Had not the entring Jaylours saved me He had torn my heart out Lor. But dear Madam tell me The Treason was too plain But do you think He did suspect or guess the real Traytress There there 's the fatal point Pope Oh I have but too much reason to believe it For at the horrour of these killing Eyes He cri'd The Features of my Fathers Poysoner And tho betwixt his wilde distracted senses He left me with the name of Witch Fiend Sorceress And what else other odde fantastick forms His wandring Rage could shape I am not safe Lor. No you are undone for if he lives you die Should tatling fame but whisper you are a woman 'T will make the scorching world too hot to hold you Pope But my Lorenzo I 'll prevent that danger For I am resolved he dies Yet Gods 't is hard 'T is very hard to kill the man I love But if he keeps a tongue I lose a head No his invenom'd Lungs breathe Plagues and I Must root his heart up to dislodge that Poyson Peace foolish Love and be for ever dumb I sit on Rome's great Throne a Seat too bright To hazard for the Pleasures of a Night Saxon thy life I cannot must not save Oh I must send thee to thy Father's Grave For know my Love must be my glories slave Lor. Spoke like Rome's Monarch This a Scepter'd hand And a Crown'd head should be Pope But is it not enough His Father I have poyson'd stain'd his Bed Himself imprison'd and to stab his Soul His dearest Princess thou hast both whored and ravisht But to all these accumulated Cruelties I must at last adde his own murder too Is it not barbarous Lor. Death not at all For now you are kinde and put him out of pain Besides your life and Crown 's at stake let that Inspire your Soul Does not th' invading Conquerour that leads His thousands and his thousands out to battel To scale the Walls of some Imperial City Fill up a Ditch with his own martyr'd slaves To make a Bridge to Glory If their glory Can murder thousands shall yours shrink at one Poor gasping slave Pope Thou art an excellent Oratour I stand confirm'd but whilst I stay to talk Danger grows big and terrible Here Amiran I 'll leave the Charge to thee Take these three thousand crowns and steal 'em into The hand of that good conscientious Priest My honest Bawd that saved my threatn'd life Thou mayst act safely for me for he knows Not who nor whence thou art Tell him his business Is onely to give the mad wilde Saxon Duke A sober sleeping Pill He 'll understand thee Amir Madam your great Commands must all be sacred And my whole life 's too short for my obedience Yet pardon me when I have one Grace to beg That you 'd be pleased t' excuse my trembling hand From this too cruel office Pope How my Girl A fit of Conscience fie let not that check thee Shrink not to serve me now Do this and make me thine entire for ever Amir Well Madam I am your slave Pope Thanks my kinde Amiran Make haste my Girl Amir I flie t' obey you Exit Amir Pope So Poor Saxony thy Fate rides Post Well if there 's any thing in the airy Dreams Of Faith Religion Piety Things which poor little unambitious Church men Have nothing else to do but to believe in Whilst we the great and glorious Mitred heads Have other work and other game to mind They say that Providence to suffering Innocence Gives Crowns and Paradise Then Saxon thou Art happy and I kinde and if Eternity Has to wrong'd Virtue Constellations given Why should I stick to send the man I love to Heav'n Or why should snarling fools at bloud repine When Death 's the Furnace does their Gold refine 'T is Wounds and Death that Heav'n with Stars does paint And the kind Murderer translates the Saint Exeunt ACT the Fifth The Scene the Prison Amiran alone Amir HIther I come to bring a Soveraign head A Soveraign Cure a sober sleeping Pill I that 's the word Poor Saxony thy Royal Father murder'd Thy dearest Princess ravisht and to make up The most unnatural monstrous mass of Cruelty Thy Fathers Poysoner and thy Fathers Whore Lodged in thy Bed Oh thou' rt a true Original Of unexampled Misery No Tragedy Ere equall'd thine Yet after all this most Wrong'd Prince must bleed and I must be his murderer Oh my faint Arm Oh my Barbarian Mistriss Well I remember I have served thy Lust My breast the Cabinet to all thy Whoredoms Nay like an Usurer to the Trust thou hast lent me I 've play'd the Bawd t' increase ' em All these Ills I never
door This Page shall bring your Princess to your Bed Alas this homely Palace does ill sute Your Royal Joys yet that Love will excuse And 't is no little transport to my Soul That 't is within my power to make you happy Sax. Never did Friendship equal thine thou best Lor. Nay Sir no thanks 't is more than I deserve For the whole study of my life to serve you Is but th' atonement of my greater guilt But one thing Sir I had forgot to tell you Take heed that you are silent in your Loves For there are many dangerous Ears around you And a discovery may cost Your loyal slave his head Sax. Oh fear not that Lor. We must make haste our danger calls us hence Ang. Farewel my dearest Lord. Sax. Till night farewel Night did I say No dazling Brightness no Thy Sweets drive Sorrows Pains and Shades away And in thy Arms 't is everlasting day ACT the Fourth Enter Lorenzo and Pope She in her womans habit Pope OH I could hug thee for this rare designe Never was Night so pleasant or a Plot So artful or so prosperous To draw him in with the false Mask of Friendship Then throw his Lady to him for a lure And so to make his very Love my Bawd Bait our false Hook with her bewitching Eyes And burnish o'er our Brass with his own Gold Then lodge me in his Arms for his own Wife And in her room reap all her Bridal Joys Without even the least shadow of suspition To damp our fierce delights This was a Master-piece Lor. Nay Madam I have had my Trophies too To have his Dutchess led to my own Bed Lodged there in expectation of her Lord With more impatience than a dying Saint Waits for his Angel-guide Then in his place T' approach the gloomy Shrine to the true Goddess Tho the false Worshipper then to embrace Her pressing Arms devour her meeting Lips No Sun so warm and yet no shower so melting Pope By all that 's excellent No President e'er matcht this nights Intrigue Never was Love on all sides so performed Their very Ravishers their darling Lovers And the kinde Sacrifice flew to the fire Oh Love if ever thou wert blinde 't was there Lor. But Madam tho the darkness of the night Deceived his Eye how did you cheat his Ear Pray tell me for th'Intrigue has been so pleasant That even the Repetition has a Charm in 't Pope First then the kinde officious Priestly Jalour Baited with Gold like a true generous Pandar Stood at the door t' admit my Page and me My Page then led me softly to the Dukes Apartment but no Tell-tale Taper light us Muffled and maskt to his dark Bed I came His Curtains strait at my approach flew open As I have seen upon a shining Theatre The painted Clouds to a descending Venus Then strait he graspt me in his burning Arms Whilst in my Ears these eager Accents fell My dearest gentlest sweetest Angeline But I to shrowd my fatal Syrens voice As if the danger of the place had scared me Straight husht him silent with a trembling Kiss The onely Rhetorick these Lips durst make And from that hour we had no room for talking Our onely Eloquence was our delights Whilst our transported Raptures strook us dumb Before the dangerous morning-dawn the Page Return'd to bear me back and I retired As safely as I came left the poor Lord So extasied the false Angelick Vision To his deluded sense appeared so fair As left no track to shew the Fiend was there Lor. Just my own Scene No Picture more exact Enter Amiran Pope Oh my best Girl how hast thou left the Duke Amir Madam so pleased so strangely pleased not Glory Upon a head new crown'd can sit more cheerful Than this nights pleasure on his heart His Prison He has so forgot that in his Cage he sings And for my services he sweetens me With such soft words and with such tender thanks He placed this sparkling Diamond on my finger That Treason sure was never so rewarded Pope But how his Dutchess Amir Much in the same vein Onely her deeper stream more silent flows She speaks not but she thinks as much as he Her generous Lord His Gift was Diamonds but hers were Rubies She onely paid me with a Blush and left me Pope Well my Lorenzo this soft Feast of Pleasure Has been too full of wonder and delight For the short Riot of one Night t'exhaust Let us resolve then to play out the Game Like wanton Revellers glut our fierce desires And when this old Intrigue grows stale and tires We 'll seek out new Lor. Agreed my Oracle Pope Saxon to night Once more thy Venus in her Cloud descends Oh for a bowl of Cleopatra's Philter To heighten our next meeting Joys How bravely did the wise Egyptian Dame Dissolve a Kingdoms Ransome in a Pearl To treat her darling Anthony t' inspire To his drein'd Veins new life and unknown fire Oh Egypt's glorious Queen Shall I less active be my Bloud 's as warm And I am as brisk as young and proud as she Cells Cloysters Covents Altars Temples Shrines With their vast hoards are all my Golden-mines Nay to sum all Rome's infinite Mass in one All the mad Zeal of the blinde World 's our own These shall my Riots these my Pomp supply Shall I want Love who have all this Wealth to buy Lor. This is so glorious so divinely great Old Rome ne'er deifi'd nor the new Rome E'er canoniz'd a Heroine more illustrious Pope If the cold Bones of a dull Roman Saint Can sleep in Treasures whilst his senseless Marble Sweats in embroider'd Gems and moulten Gold Shall my warm Bed and warmer Lovers want it No! I 'll melt the Crown from the gilt Martyrs head And ransack even his Tomb t' adorn my Bed I 'll rifle Saints to make my Lovers shine And Steal from Heav'n to make the Joy divine Lovers by Lucifer I 'll not want one day Whilst the rich Church shall both procure and pay Lor. Most excellent Pope Now could I laugh at those Dull pious dying fools who in despair To buy Eternity make the Church their Heir The bigot Fools are kind in a good hour There 's nothing like a Pope for an Executour True the poor slaves die Saints so let 'em die Whilst we enjoy the Paradise they buy Leaving that Wealth which we in Lust consume They are Proselytes to Heaven but Bawds to Rome Exeunt The Scene changes to the Prison Two Hereticks 1 Her Bernardo 2 Her Ha! more Priests more Torturers Oh! 1 Her H'st I am a Friend 2 Her A Friend to poor Bernardo Nay then thou art a wretched thing indeed For nought but misery dares link with me 1 Her Indeed thou art i' th' right No wonder nothing But Cruelty and Torments fill this place For here Religion reigns that pious Cormorant Religion that devouring Savage reigns Yes we are Hereticks Those bugbear monstrous things design'd for slaughter
design'd to fright our ancient Foe The warlike Vandal Rhemes That was the pretence But Romes Subversion and Religion's Ruine Was the Design Card. 4. And my good Lord of Rhemes 'T was in prevention of a dangerous Heresie And to revenge our injured Church you gave The Duke this poyson Rhemes Yes my Lord I did But oh it grieved my Soul to kill my Prince My Friend my Patron nay my generous Patron But in a cause so just for Romes bright Glory Our Mother Churches Right I 'd not have spared a Brother Father Friend Soveraign in a cause so good Kingdoms should groan and Monarch's set in Blood Card. 1. Come to our Arms Card. 2. T' our Arms dear Lord of Rhemes Hugging him Card. 3. Religions Bulwark Card. 4. Truth 's Defender welcome Card. 1. Romes Patriot and Heaven's Champion ever welcome Bright Son of Fame we and our Saints are all Your Debtors for this meritorious Service Sax. Is this your Doom Churchmen you call your selves Is this a Church Reward for murder'd Majesty Oh I could rave but Lords I 'll reason calmly Grant those false Libellers and this poysoner honest Yes grant my Father that lewd thing they paint him Nay more suppose th' Almighty Rome has power To judge a King and doom a Soveraign Head Card. 1. Suppose it Saxon Sax. Yes suppose it Priest Were he a Criminal why were not all Those intercepted Letters sent to Rome And he as an Offender fairly tried Call'd to the Bar to Romes King-killing Bar And his Accusers met him face to face Rhemes T' have waged in publick ' gainst so great an Adversary Had been t' have had our Cause and martyr'd Throats Both silenced Treason hush'd Truth undiscovered And Rome for ever unrevenged Card. 1. How German A private man impeach an Heretick King Call him to Law and face to face convict him Does the weak Traveller face the roaring Lion Or spotted Leopard and grapple Arm to Arm No foolish Prince Does he not straight fly to some hollow Cave Or climb some Cedars Top from whose safe stand Does he not watch a lucky hour and shoot Th' unwary Savage dead or in a Foyl The snared Devourer seize and Sir Are Heretick Kings less Brutes less Savages Than Lions Tygers Leopards or less To be destroyed than they or must Rome kill By open hostile Arms The Churches strength Lies not in Spear or Launce or ponderous Steel A Pebble slung from out a righteous hand May strike a Giant dead Sax. How Roman Prelates Are these your Principles Some pitying Saint keep in my boiling rage And wall me round with Adamant Church Hypocrites false Bastard Prophets hear me Card. 1. Take him away and stop the Railer's Mouth Card. 2. No let him stay and hear the voice of Rome Card. 1. Is it by me you speak All Card. Speak Lord of Millain Card. 1. First our whole Consistory votes her Thanks To this illustrious Lord. Next as a monument T'an Hereticks infamy if the Boul that held The sacred Drug can be by art or Gold Recovered we decree that it be consecrated As an Eternal Relick to the Chappel at Loretto Lastly that the sleeping Bones Of the dead Saxon Heretick unworthy To mix with the untainted Royal Dust Of his great Ancestors be taken up Removed and buryed in unhallow'd Ground Sax. Disturb my Father's Dust what Cerberus Dog amongst ye Dares growl a sound so impious Ye Cardinal Wolves tear up his Royal Bones Do if you dare keep your Prerogative To hector Kingdoms and to hag-ride Kings But know We are too great and Saxony too honest That Blood-hound Priest that Jackall Monk that dares With his invenom'd Claws but touch his Tomb By all the Conclave Devils and the Ghost Of my dead Father dies upon a Gibbet Card. 2. And are we threatned too By the Divinity Of Rome bold Arrogance thy forfeit Head But thrust him out and shut our Gates against him The Scene shuts upon him and the Consistory closes Sax. Farewel ye Scarlet Blood-hounds Are these the Lords that yoke the Necks of Kings How sensless is that dull Imperial Head That makes his Scepter to the Crosier bow By Heavens he 's both a Coward and a Slave Romes upstart Idol 'bove his Throne he rears And servilely creates the God he fears Down goes his Majesty and down his Fame Pope is the King and Monarch but the name Exit Finis Actus Primi ACT II. Saxony and Angeline Sax. OH Rome thou once great Mistress of the World How much thy ancient Royal Capitol Exceeds th' adulterate Vatican when Pagans And Infidels possess'd thee they were honest The blind Idolaters that kneel'd and prayed To their deaf sensless Molten Gods were Saints To this Church Spawn this Nest of Scarlet Tyrants Ang. Indeed my Lord this strange inverted Justice Is very hard but bear it like a man Sax. Yes when I am treated like a man but Princes Are less than Dogs where base-born Priests controul I and my Cause with all my loud tongued Wrongs Spurn'd from their presence and my Father's Blood Of that small value that the Purple Juice That fills the pamper'd Prelates Epicurean Gorge Is spilt with more Concern than the Blood of Princes Ang. Calm your untimely rage when Ills are past Redressing and all other hope forsakes us Patience is then the wise man's last companion Sax. Patient oh never till Romes Consistory And Justice fill one Throne and that must be When contraries unite When Truth and Falshood Incorporate Suppose my Princely Father Had been an Heretick but if my Soul Dares play the Prophet 't was some private malice That gave the Tragick Blow and this pretended Heresie Some false Machine that moved the specious Scene But grant it true why was he not accused Summon'd and call'd before th'all judging Rome And doom'd by Law if Rome can judge a King Had he been weighed in Justice equal Ballance And found too light than to have hoist The mounting Scale and tript him up to Heaven Had been a doom Worthy the Glory of the Tripple Diadem But to be kill'd by a Poysoner and a Traitor And lesses crimes by greater crimes be punish'd Yes the whole Conclave hug him for the fact Come to our Arms t' our Arms dear Lord of Rhemes We and our Saints are all your Debtors Ang. Enough my Lord Sax. Yet what confounds all humane sense to think The Papal Crown 's fix'd on this Monster 's Brow Nay rais'd too by the merit of a Poysoner My Father's blood advanced him to the Popedom Crown'd him Heaven's Vicar for Hells blackest Murder Ang. Yet hold my Lord. Sax. With these damn'd Principles a begging Friar Shall stab a King a lowzy tatter'd Monk Be a Monarch's Judge and Executioner Is this the Justice of th' Imperial Mitre Covents and Cloysters thus are Romes Tribunals Daggers and Poysons are their Axe and Fasces Pallaces their Scaffolds and the Priestly Robe The Hangman's Livery Enter Lorenzo Priests and Officers Lor. Seize him They seize him·
kneel to Devils Pope Ha! Sax. Look big strut on yes base-born Greatness do Like the black Prince of th' Air o'erlook the world beneath thee But let thy Conscience tell thy vaunting pride That thinks it self the Cedar of the Grove That thou art only a rank Church yard Cypress Rooted and planted amongst Tombs and Charnels You suck'd your Verdure from my Father's Grave A Princes murder rais'd you to your Throne And pay'd a Traytor 's Wages with a Crown Pope Audacious Impudence Poor crawling Insect But I am too tame and shame the Throne that holds me I tell thee Saxon thou shalt groan in Chains Sax. I tell thee Priest thou lyest I scorn to groan Load me with Shackles torture me with Wracks As numberless as are thy Crimes rank Prelate And know to the confusion of thy pride My Body is as hard as is thy Conscience And scorns to groan as much as thou Pope Silence his outrage in a Jayl away with him Sax. A Jayl stay Slaves usurping Tyrant tell me By what authority the power of Rome Commands the Fortunes Crowns and Lives of Princes And thou that falsly stylest thy self a Churchman Darest break a Sacrament of Heaven divorce The sacred Partner of my Joys and Me Pope The Lives and Crowns of Princes what are thâ— But the Creation of our Breath shall we Who from immediate Heaven derived have right To make or unmake Saints want power t'enthrone Or depose Kings dispose of Crowns above And yet not place 'em here command Eternity And have mortality controul us But do I talk like a descending God Stoop to converse with poor and humble dust Dull Slaves away Sax. Yet stay descending God And hear what Altar I intend to build thee If 't is decreed my short-lived Blaze of Glory A martyr'd Prince's Life like a poor Taper Must be puffed out by that base poysonous blast That vengeance which my fetter'd Arms want power To give I will entail upon my Heirs Now by my Royal murder'd Father's blood Whos 's each least drop outweighs thy Soul lewd Priest He is a Bastard to the Blood of Saxony That shall not cross himself but at thy name With greater dread than to face an Host of Devils And in each morning Letany he makes He shall place thee before Wars Plagues and Famines Whilst his each Bead that drops a Prayer to Heaven Shall blend a Curse to thee Nay you shall hear me Pope Ye Gods his Father's Shape his Face his Meen Aside Sax. By Heavens the very Girls through all my Saxony That have no Weapons above their Needles Shall in revenge of thy detested name Limb that curst Head in their embroidered Toys And execute that Monster in Effigie Pope His Father's Spirit too Gods with what courage Aside He stemms that Torrent that he knows can drown him 'T is bold 't is bravely bold Where am I going Sax. Nay by my Soul I will bequeath my Dukedom To Painters and Engravers to revenge me There 's not that humblest Roof in all the principality Of Saxony that shall not have thy face Drawn to the life in Hell Nay every Portal To a Stable or a Jakes Shall have thy Picture drawn upon a Gibbet Pope Remove that frantick Railer from our presence And lodge the feeble Snarler in a Dungeon Oh stay my fluttering Soul Aside Sax. Yes Fire and Faggot Priest to a Dungeon Remove me from that Gordon Pope That fiery scorching Dog-star of the world His pestilential Air 's too hot to breath in Exit forced out by the Officers Manent only the Pope and Page Pope How dost thou like this fierce this hectoring Duke Methinks he stands my rage like a Corinthian Colossus bears his Brow high as that Cloud That thunders round his Head and his unshaken Feet O'er stride a Tempest and a Sea Beneath him Is he not bold is he not truly brave Page Bolder and braver than a dying Saint And no less constant So th' undaunted Martyr Smiles at the Stake and triumphs in the Fire Whilst his high Cause does his great Soul inspire If I may speak my thoughts of him I like Him better than his Fate Pope Oh Girl thou hast touch'd me to the very heart His Father's Courage Form his Father all Those very eyes that stabb'd my Virgin Soul Oh Amiran thy Mistress is undone I kill'd the Father and now love the Son Page How Madam Pope Gorged with the Fountain for the Stream I thirst And teeming with th'unnatutal Monster burst Exit Page Where will this end If she goes on this strange And monstrous Feaver can't but end in Ruine Oh Saxony if thou hast such powerful Charms Thy Eyes thy Father's Vengeance will pursue And act what thy weak Arm could never do Exit Enter Pope alone Pope How am I lost in my impossible Desires I die for the Duke of Saxony Die for that very man of th' whole Creation That in my case my fatal Circumstances With all the mighty solid Barrs between us I with less ease or hope can think t' enjoy Then I could take a Lodging with a Salamander Suppose his Virtues stood not in my way But like his Fathers were as weak and easie To be subdued yet I of all my Sex For ever must despair Through all disguises He 'll track the features of his Father's poysoner But grant it possible I could deceive him Can I deceive my old Domestick Jayler Lorenzo that stale Rifler of my pleasures The very man who when I stoop'd to make him Slave to my Lust at the same hour I made him Lord of my Life on both sides I am undone I starve at Shoar and if I launch I drown Enter Lorenzo and Angeline What have we here Absconding Angel Because my cruel Stars think fit to make My Lord and me your Tyrant Master's prey Because our Lives and Crowns the dross of Princes A profane hand may reach dare you presume Audacious Slave to think my Soul your prize And talk of Love to me Lor. Madam I know Our infinite distance own your higher Sphere Yet Slaves may barter with an Emperor And sell a Jewel to adorn a Crown Madam I do not ask your Love for Love I bring a price to purchase your affection Would buy your favour with your Husband's life Ang. My Husband 's life Lor. Yes Madam Pope Excellent Aside Lor. You know my interest in his Holiness 'T is in my power to re-install your Lord In all his Glories bribe me with your Love And by all that Heaven which those warm smiles can give I 'll burst his Chains dispel his gloomy Fate Present him with his Liberty and Crown Ang. And dares the Hell-hound breath this Blasphemy No execute your savage Tyrants doom And lay that Royal Pile of Majesty Low as the dust Better my Princely Lord With all the Loads of Shame and Wracks should die Than the least spot should stain his Princess Heart Lor. Horrour and Death Discovering the Pope Retire sweet Excellence All shall be
Enter Pope Cardinals Priests and other Officers as in form of a Procession Pope Lorenzo murder'd and that Saxon Basilisk Alive and in the head o' th' Multitude I am betrayed undone Aside Sax. Romans Lords Cardinals to you I speak That brand of Hell Pope Now by yon bright Omnipotence Some black design against Romes awful Godhead Sax. No by yon bright Omnipotence I come For Justice Justice against Romes Scarlet Whore Pope Dear adored Devil save me but this once Sax. Oh Romans Romes once shining Dignity And dazling Glory is eclipsed for ever Instead of Majesty t' adorn a Throne That mitred Monster is a Whore Hag Sorceress Pope Heavens can your Thunder sleep and tamely hear Such Blasphemies within the Walls of Rome Card. 1. Inhumane Insolence Card. 2. Exquisite Traytor Sax. No willful blind deluded Prelates no Eternity blast me if she be not a Woman And the most rank Damnation ever shaped And to make up her loathed Abominations By her contrivance was this Beauty First ravished and then murder'd Whilst th' Hell-burnt Lust of the adult'rous Hag Within these blasted Arms supplyed her Room Pope Oh Rome and Romans lest the wrath of Heaven Should rain down Fire upon your guilty Heads Upon the forfeit of your Souls revenge me Sax. Revenge my Wrongs and this fair Martyrs Blood Oh right the Honour of Romes injured Majesty And burn the Enchantress Pope Oh right the Honour of Romes injured Majesty And seise the Heretick Saxony draws and makes at the Pope but is disarm'd by the people All the Card. Burn burn the Traytor The Rabble Burn him burn him burn him Exeunt the Rabble forcing out Saxony to execution Pope This dread Encounter oh my staggering frame Has loosen'd every Vein about my Heart And I am all o'er Convulsions But lead on And end the Sacred Business of the day His Treason stopt but his Blood clears our way Exeunt The Scene opens and discovers a Stake and Faggots with Priests with Lighted Torches to kindle the Fire and the Rabble hurrying Saxony to the Fire Sax. Burn at a Stake doom'd like a Slave a Traytor Farewel thou Royal rank Church Whore farewel Live and reign on yes hot Inchantress live Romes universal Teeming Fruitful Prostitute Brood on Romes cursed Chair brood like a hatching Basilisk Entail thy Lust t' a thousand Generations And warm the Nest for all thy bloody Successors May not that Beast of Prey a Pope succeed thee But be thy Bastard Not a Cell nor Cloyster But be thy Brothel And not a fawning Cardinal but thy Bawd And lest thy hopeful progeny shoul fail Mix thy black Lust with some engendring Devil And people thy curst Rome with Imps and Goblins And to employ all Hells whole stock of Fire May all thy race be Cardinals Popes Abbots Monks Friars Priests and all be damn'd together Rabble Burn him burn him Scene shuts Enter Cardinals Card. 1. By all that 's good a Whore a Witch Confusion Romes dread Majesty transform'd T' a teeming Hag and an abortive Bastard Card. 2. Miscarried in the Street i' th' open face of day Card. 3. Frighted no doubt with that fierce hectoring Duke The puny half got weak untimely Bastard Fell from the brooding Fiend Card. 4. Romes Royal Chair Once the bright Seat of Heavens great Deputies Profaned and sullied by a Whore a Syren May this curst day and this more cursed deed From Romes great Annals be for ever torn Card. 1. No let her shame be branded to posterity First be her Body into Tyber thrown Then hers and her unshapen Bastards Image Be fix'd upon a Pyramid in Rome And lastly in all future times No Mitred Prelate in divine Procession Presume to pass through that detested Street Where this curst Sorceress fell Card. 2. But my good Brothers How shall we guard our Mother Churches Brightness From new pollutions fence her holy Throne From new Impostors from all future Sorceries Card. 1. Oh Brothers by immediate revelation Touch'd with a Spark from yon Celestial Orb I 've have found that happy glorious great design For which our yet even unborn Heirs shall thank me Card. 3. Oh speak Card. 1. Thus then the Coronation Porphyry On which Romes installed Bishop Heavens Lieutenant takes his great Commission Shall thro' it have that subtle concave form'd Thro' which a reverend Matrons hand Card. 2. Now by yon Stars inspired by some good Angel I guess thy glorious purpose Card. 1. Now Devils we defie your utmost power Romes awful Throne shall be profan'd no more Put Whores and Bawds upon us if you can Romes Mitred Head henceforth shall be a Man Exeunt omnes FINIS