done not to goe nor send after her yet poore Lord hee is kill'd dead too now and has met her Hearse here So those two soules that ne'r were borne to have A Nuptiall Bed have found a Nuptiall Grave Beauty and Vertue strove Who should adorne her most Till faith conspir'd with love And all their labours crost Lucil. Antonio kill'd Althea buried Then thou hast liv'd Lucilio to behold The height of mischiefe and the worst of chance And thou maist dare thy angry Starres to inflict What ere they can effect that 's worse than this Murderd thy friends ruin'd their ancient names Hatefull to thy Parents lothsome to thy selfe O 't is high time to die and I doe wrong Althea's constancy to breath an houre After I know she has prevented me Methinkes I heare love chide my backwardnesse And tell me how unworthy I am growne To have two friends so firmely vertuous Constant and loyall and outlive them both Yea be their Murderer and stand alive Spectator at their funerall as I would bid The rest weep on whil'st I give ayme to teares And marke who grieves most deep at my foule actions Lucilio stands aside Enter at one doore the Coarse of the Dukes supposed Sonne borne by Mourners and following it the Duke and Duchesse with others in mourning robes At the other doore the Hearse for Althea with the Scarfe which Antonio brought from the Shepherds laid a crosse it and borne by foure maides in blacke with their haire disheveld and Garlands of dead Mirtle or other leaves on their heads her Mother with some Mourners following Torches before both and meeting they stay Duke So then let Fortune make a period here Since we are met just in the midst of woe And stand upon the Center of mishap Whence we may see the full circumference Of all that Sphere that bounds the power of Fate Come Madam we will mixe our teares a while Dropping them joyntly on the Marble Tombes Of our dead Issue till the stones receive Large Characters of griefe carv'd by the drops That ceaselesse flow from our too late laments Iul. Great Lord if woes with woes may be compar'd Or to the measure of our cause of griefe Wee might in sad contention drop our teares Shower for your drop Pound for your dramme of woe My brest and eyes would yeeld which now are growne A boundlesse harbour for the depth of care For though wee meet in this that both have lost The dearest treasures of desired life Yet hath your Grace a partner in distresse A comfort to the residue of your yeares And therefore hope that Heaven may yet restore This ruine of your House Besides you have The body of your sonne on whose dead Coarse You may bestow your teares and honour him With fitting place and Royall exequies When Heaven hath shut those comforts from my heart Left me a widow to sustaine the waight Of all this burden and no partner else To bring mine aged haires unto the grave But still repining griefe and am deny'd The ashes of my childe on whose cold Hearse Mine eyes might pay those tributary teares Which her misfortune and my woes exact And onely can embrace an empty shrine Yet my good Lord I oft forget my cares To grieve at yours and wish Althea's death Might have suffic'd the anger of the Fates Without Lucilio's blood whose guiltlesse fall Hath strook a sadnesse through th' appalled lookes Of all your subjects made them stand amaz'd And wonder there should live upon the earth Envy enough to blast such gracefull hopes Duke Let me be open Madam to your love 'T is but the doome of Iustice I sustaine I know I wrong'd your daughters innocence And onely know it now for plagues make knowne That oft for sinne which once we thought was none Iul. No my good Lord shee was not innocent In that she bounded not her loosest thoughts Within our element but would admit The dangerous fires of ambitious love Into her Virgin brest that 's safelyest knit Where all proportion justly equals it Duch. Wrong not her worth good Madam the power of death Is weake to staine her name and we were blest If such perfection joyn'd unto our Blood Had with our sonne succeeded in the Throne Of this unhappy and dejected State Beleeve me Madam I did ever love Althea's Vertues and was inly glad When by that Stratagem my son had freed Her innocence as I protest I thought And wish'd her scape as safe from that injustice As could my heart desire Iul. Alas good Madam I have felt your Grace Still loving to my daughters poore deserts And nothing did increase my sorrowes more Then that I wanted meanes how to requite Your Graces love Duke Come we forget our selves in Ceremonies And waste the time whose every instant yeelds Scarce space enough for that large taske of griefe Sorrow exacts each instant from our hearts Good Madam wee will consecrate one Tombe To both their Memories and since in life Their hearts were so united by Loves hand In death their Graves shall joyne so will ourselves Bequeath the remnant of our dayes from hence You to sad cares and we to penitence Exeunt the Torch-Bearers and both Coarses joyning the Duke Duchesse L. Iulia c. following Lucil. You to sad cares and wee to poenitence Why then you 'll feed upon the bitter fruits Of your ambition and by experience finde Vertue not Honour is heaven unto the minde Deare Father I conceive your griefe as true As is my love and feele methinkes a sting That spurs me onward to prevent the plagues My losse will bring upon your hoary age And makes me thinke I heare the frequent voyce Of potent Nature whisper to mine eare The duty that I owe and bids me meet Those mischiefes quickly by discovering mee But the perswasion 's weake when I must owe More then a duty or all Natures selfe To the chaste merits of Althea's love Who was the first I murdred then the name Of holy frendship which my request abus'd In lov'd Antonio whom I murdred next My debt 's above a life which though I give My ghost must be a slave to pay the rest And their deserts stand yet unsatisfy'd But ô yee Spirits of truth whose constant faiths Merit perhaps to heare these last laments My dying soule powres forth be pleas'd to take The poore oblation of a loathsome life Which I as gladly vow unto your loves As misery would turne it selfe to blisse And since I was a murderer to your worths I le chuse that death that murderers doe passe And thou hadst liv'd Antonio if thy love Had not before with-held me from the fall And saving onely me hath murdred all exit Enter Antonio and Lady Iulia Anton. Madam My love to you and to that vertuous Lord Could doe no lesse I doe assure your Ladiship The murderer has confess'd in hope of life The circumstances meanes and opportunity Which you so fitly urg'd and hath incens'd The Duke so violently
melancholy Which some define is weaknesse in a Lord And in a Lady pride or fullennesse But in a wise man 't is flatt foolery Lucil. Prethee forbeare Antonio let me in silence Vent out the cares that overwhelme my soule Thou know'st how deep an angry mothers spleene Wounds the soft love that I am forc'd to beare To my Altheas vertues How can I chuse But weep away my youth when I remember The dreadfull oppositions which my soule Hath formerly sustain'd for her the cares That have out-runne my yeares and like to corsives Have eate into my flesh there seiz'd upon All faculties of life and spred their venome Through every veine and sinew of my heart Anto. 'T is your owne fault that thus will spend your selfe In such extreames of passion that encrease The number of your griefes above your spirit Faith 't is unmanly done call you this love Lucil. Antonio thou mistak'st the name of love In thy Lucilio if thou conceiv'st it dull And sprightlesse melancholy whose corroding humour Feeds on the faint dejection of a minde That dares not meet an apprehensive thought Of least misfortune but it basely yeelds I have held up thou knowest against all plots A womans wit could manage or invent Or cause the Duke my father countenance To blow out the chaste flame of my affection Have laid my brest open to envy's spight And suffer'd even to banishment it selfe If I may tearm 't a banishment from her Who is all things to me divine Althea Life Countrey fortune all that this world cals happy Anto. Strange Symptomes of affection Lucilio Say Antonio Was it not Banishment that even when Iove Had licens'd us in heav'n and meant to send Himen to earth in white and Priestly robes To joyne our hands as Cupid had our hearts Then to be taken hoodwinkt from my hopes And sent in haste from Court just in the harvest Of my desires to combate with the Arts The aire and clime of Athens whil'st the Sunne Trebled his course to the Coelestiall Ramme Anto. Yet know my Lord that your indulgent Parents Out of their Princely care intended it But as a course of Physick to recover Your love-sick thoughts hoping that Time Absence Ioyn'd with the precepts of Philosophy Might purge you to a remissnesse of affection And by degrees conquer this mouldy passion Lucil. All which supposed remedies deare friend Set the disease a working much lesse cure it True love Antonio is immutable A divine Charter of affection Confirm'd in heav'n and can by no prescript Of Art or Nature ever be restrain'd Nullis amor est medicabilis herbis Nec prosunt Artes Anto. Yet since in vaine you strive To bandy with a mother me thinkes Love Tir'd in the depth of woe should call your Reason To a new choise fitting your Birth and Fortunes Lucil. Call woes to woes I am resolv'd to trie The worst of spleene and since her vertuous thoughts Have daign'd to meet affection that on wings Of true borne faith hath rais'd it selfe to claspe With her deserts the most austerest tempest Envy can showre upon our innocent loves Shall ne'r dis-joyne us Anto I have done my Lord Lucil. Then prethee Antonio let me in peace retire I feele some strange events lie at my heart My thoughts cannot presage I feare my friend I have but dream'd as yet but now mine eyes Must wake to meet true solid miseries Exit Lucilio Anto. To see how strong love is and the command It has o'r humane hearts Poore Lord I know Thy true-borne griefes are firme and that chast faith Never conceiv'd to wave with floating likenesse Makes thee thus sinke into the depth of sorrow Page Nay good Signior follow him put him out of the humour or else he will turne madman shortly Anto. Why sir Page Because he that 's first a Scholler next in love the yeare after is either an arrant foole or a starke madman Anto. How came your knavery by such experience Page As fooles doe by newes some body told me so and I beleeve it But in good earnest I had forgot to tell my Lord of the message he sent me in Anto. Whither in the name of Mercury was that Page To see how the Lady Donna Fiozza did Anto. Oh! how does her beauteous Ladiship Page Sick terrible sick Anto. Physick defend prethee of what disease Page Yesterday her Monkey had a fall off the side table and ever since she has had a strange fit of an ague Anto. How does her Lord Page Faith not well neither and therefore he begins to be most sparingly vertuous Anto. The pox he does Page On my fidelitie you are the foule mouth'dst gallant that ever wore Cloves in 's Gummes you say an Italian Count has the pox Anto. Your neater word good Galateo Page By this light you Courtiers bee the dullest creatures living you learne nothing but flattery and begging You must know sir in a Nobleman 't is abusive no in him the Sarpigo in a Knight the Grincomes in a Gentleman the Neopolitan scabb and in a Servingman or Artificer the plaine Pox Iust as your saying goes that Noblemen bee never drunke but take a surfeit Schollers be ill at ease and poore men onely they are drunke yet all 's but one disease There 's an old rime for you adieu Signior I must to my Lord Anto. Farewell hedge-pike Exeunt Enter Althea and Alastor Alth. Did my Lord so farre impart the businesse to your selfe Alast. He did and does intend to use my help alone in effecting of his project She gives him a letter and money Alth. I prethee returne him this answer and bee silent Alast. Sweet villany thou art the thrivingst trade under heaven Exit Alth. Warme blood assist me how has wonder seiz'd The frozen passages that slowly guide My shivering spirits up to the seat of life Murder the Duke now innocence forbid And let our selves be as out loves unstain'd Tyrannous affection can thy transforming power Enforce our passions thus beyond our selves Rob us of nature and the sense of man Seize all our actions force us to forget That we are children and with loves finger blot Cleane from our thoughts the pietie we owe To them that gave us life Carry us headlong To such a gulfe of sinne where we must drowne Our selves our honour and that secure content A guiltlesse conscience brings to innocence Ah deare Lucilio how are thy vertues dimm'd In my best thoughts that like a Christall mirrour Still held the shapes of thy deserving actions Vnspottedly resembl'd what spirit of night Has mixt it selfe with those untainted vowes Thy never yet ambitious soule pour'd forth To attend our loves Some Angel deare Lucilio Descend into thy fancy to perswade thee By all the bands Love Duty Nature Heaven Can bring to binde thee in a tender feare Of roughly breathing on the softest ayre That toucheth but his safetie to desist From this unnaturall act of paricide Fatall experience speakes and makes it good They stand
till freed by all degrees she becomes a Nurse of the Trade by five and forty then many times a six penny Witch and so back againe to an everlasting Devill The second Spirit riseth Duch. What is this Mic. This is a Spirit Madam that takes many times the habit of an old Gentlewoman gets into Ladies familiarities teaches the tempers of Complexion the composition of meats that strengthen and provoke luxury the use of quelque choses and Dildoes has Aretine at her fingers ends 'T was she that first invented double Locks and a sute of Keyes to every Office Shee exalted the horne of the Buttery made the Silver Bole neglect the company of the black Iack and preferr'd a Bill against eating Breakfasts and sitting up late to the prejudice of Tallow-Chandlers In fine shee sets Families together by the eares and flattering her selfe into great mens expenses becomes the bane of Hospitalitie Duch. 'T is a familiar Spirit methinkes I could bee acquainted with her But who is this The third Spirit Mic. O this is a Devill of many shapes and indeed Madam seldome at leisure that wee can have any use of him He fawnes him into services of place and perswades men otherwise morally civil from the chaste Sheets of their beautifull and vertuous mariages becomes an Intelligencer and panders them to Milk-maids Kitchin-wenches and Oyster-wives Hee refuses no deed that heaven abhorres and Hell trembles at so his Lord sin with him He is a very chain'd slave to his Masters vices and leaves him in nothing but Actions of honour and vertue An other time hee is a concealed Druggist or Apothecary puts on the name of a great Traviller poysons at an houre and is in great request Duch. Speake to him good Micale and let him know our businesse Mic. Stay then thou Spirit of night and by the power The chiefe commander of your shades hath lent I doe adjure thee tell where lives Althea The Spirit whispers Micale behinde He tels me Madam in the Mountaines farre from hence Duch. But how shall we procure her death He whispers Micale as before Mic. By poyson gi'mee something then that kils Past Cure and speedily it is sufficient Hee gives her a Violl and exit I have a nimble Spirit at command That by an oyntment which we doe apply To parts of our mark'd bodies is at hand Who posts us through the regions of the ayre When oft wee meet at solemne festivals Or doe admit a novice to the oath Of our abstruse and powerfull discipline Leave it to us and ere to morrowes Sunne Touch but three Points of West beyond Mid-noone My selfe will see Althea dead Duch. Thanks gentle Micale for thou hast eas'd me much I le not forget thy paines nor leave thy skill Without regard for wee have much to know Mic. 'T is a curious age Madam and we are full Of businesse now so many come to know Who shall survive their Husbands or themselves And then how long whom they shall marry next What place and oportunitie must meet To raise their titles with a million more Of womens questions But the day begins To looke upon us Duch. I must hasten then Least some mis-fortune doe discover me Farewell Micale hell prosper our designe Mic. Feare it not Madam I will not sleep nor eate Till by Althea's death I joyntly free Your Sonne and House from Cupids Tyranny exeunt Actus 4. Scena 1. Enter Althea and Camilla disguis'd like Shepheardesses Althea THe day growes hot and with the climing Sunne That mounts to th' height of noone our cares doe flie Drawne on by feare and griefe to deep despaire Le ts rest under this shade until the sindging Ray a little hath withdrawne it selfe Cam. And gladly too for I am as weary of travell as I am of a Shepheards life Alth. I Camilla the desire of being publike is the disease of our Sex we thinke the Countries free breathing spaciousnesse a prison where the losse of libertie is the want of company But if there were one of us whose contents were not without her she would shun that common concurse of eyes as she does the opinion of deformity and perceive that the best perfectiō had no greater enemy than publike aspects Cam. This is forc'd now and savours not of your temper and womans seasoning to hold Paradoxes against nature and opinions opposite to our owne feelings 'Sprecious Madam if Nature fram'd us to please how can we please where 's none to be pleas'd but Beasts and Birds whose apprehension was ne'r made capable of proportion and therefore regard it not Althea And therefore condemne us of unnaturalnesse that when beauty was equally shar'd 'twixt them and us they respect it as it is whil'st wee blinded by reasonable sense conceive it the richest gift Heaven could give study it above the soule and equall to life tho it meerly touch our outsides as clothes doe Cam. Nay deare Mistris let 's talke a little now like our selves like women and tell mee whether an excellent Qualitie forc'd from operation or a rare peece of worke held from sight bee not a wrong to the Author as well as the thing O they were fowly deceiv'd that sought perfection in a Nunnery Alth. That 's the errour of our ambition that while wee take our ayme at admiration by publikenesse and common flattery we misse that repute among the wisest which our beauties not prostituted would infallibly merit because every thing though lesse perfect yet lesse common is more admired as we see in the Sunne and a Comet Cam. You are Bookish still and I le stand to it yet there 's no woman but loves them both and therefore being naturall to our Sex why should it bee tearmed unnaturalnesse in us to cherish beautie or wish the perfection of civill mens amiable societie when that ever begets love and love is ever secōded with flattery I like a Wench that 's pure mettall and spirit and the very foule of her kinde that when a Lord wantons her will forsake her home give off her father and competent meanes to the poore of the Parish stick to the City like a Prodigall to the Counter that cannot be drawne out by all the friends he has lives clearely by her wits yet reasonable honest too and all to be flatter'd Alth. Such Camilla be the disgrace of their Sex whose appetites change with varietie and taint the generall name of women with the vicious note of inconstancy Camill. That 's the folly of men to terme inconstancie vicious in us for were they not so prone to wrong us they would ne'r expect it but know that to bee too constant to them were to bee too disloyall to our selves which I hope ne'r came nigh a womans wit Alth, Yet it is the perfection of vertue to lose by the exercise Cam. By the pleasures of change I sweare this constancy is a mortall sinne and not a vertue in any of us Alth. A sinne and mortall Cam. A sinn and
against your selfe That he has vow'd your death doth intend A sharp revenge to all your family And but I know Lucilio yet does live Beleeve me Madam I should hate the fact And be the first should feed my thirsty eyes With their best blood that spilt least part of his Iul. Alas Antonio what would you have me doe When I beheld my daughter murdred thus 'Twixt love and hate and I no meanes of help To take revenge or comfort to my griefe Anto. Well Madam let 's not stand to expostulate The cause the act was foule and but the hand Of Heaven turn'd it from him 'gainst whō you meant it Hatefull and worthy of the deep'st revenge Your way is now to shun the furious wrath The Duke 's enflamed with and for a while Lie close in some disguise till the lost Prince Make his returne who doubtlesse will ere long Give notice to my selfe where he remaines And for your farther assurance Lady I le take Some strange attire with you and we will both Be present at the Execution Where you shall heare perhaps the latest words The murderer will speake against your selfe And in the presence of the Duke avouch Your guiltinesse Iul. Thankes good Antonio There the gift is free When 't is bestow'd on deepest miserie Exeunt Enter Althea in her Shepherdesses apparell over her owne which she putting off layes aside Alth. Lie there thou gentle weed that hast prolong'd A weary life thou whose dissembling shape Has help'd me reach the place which drew that life As an attractive Load-stone to it's end Some friendly Passinger will for this reward Bestow perhaps a buriall on my Coarse And be my death as freely exempt from sight As is my griefe that never innocent eyes May bee infected with those fumes of guilt My latest gaspe breathes forth reserv'd till now To bee unfortunate in all save this That I shall sacrifice my dearest blood Vpon that Altar where Lucilio dyed And let one aire receive our joyned spirits And sacrifices to Faiths Deitie She goes up the Rocke quickly and standing ready And witnesse now you zealous thoughts of love Witnesse the vowes my affection held so deare Enter Lucilio in his owne habit and walkes a turne My soule comes unconstrain'd to you deare Lord And parts as freely from a gladsome heart As ere it wish'd to enjoy the lively sight Of your desired presence She spies him as below Awake my fancy doe mine eyes conspire To aggravate my griefe or does the strong Imagination of my losse present the shape Of his dead person to my troubled sense Lucil. What strange confused passions 'gin to raise A stormy combate 'twixt my minde and death Though safely now arriv'd within the Port Where for exchange of breath I shall regaine The long desired presence of her soule That hovers in expectation of my comming Alth. Methinkes I sleep that thus illusive showes Doe mock my apprehension or is 't decreed That even in death I must indure affliction And die in height of woe How like his pace His gesture shape and countenance true constant spirit That wouldst not be unlesse thou mightst be true Did not my greedy sight distract my thoughts To feed upon thy shadow and make me forget My businesse next in hand I should have flowne To be a shadow and have walk'd with dead Lucilio As hearing somewhere the voyce of his name Lucil. Lucilio was it my fond conceit or else my selfe Standing betwixt the bounds of life and death Her ghost that lookes each minute for my approach Thinkes my stay long and cals upon my name I come Althea swift as breake the windes From out the Eolian Caves give mee but space To take my flight from off that He lookes up to the Rocke and seeing her stand a while amaz'd Bright Angell Goddesse whatsoe'r thou art That hast assum'd that shape to adorne thy state And give a better lustre to thy Deity Doe not delude my woes nor make my death More miserable then my selfe have done Alth, It does invite me speak and with his silent looks Seemes to intreat a word yet my faint heart Throbbing with feare denies to second speech Lucil. Be what thou wilt I know no spirit of night Durst to attempt that forme that ne'r was made But to invest a soule more faire and pure Then are the Spheres Ghost Angel Goddesse Nimph Speake daine a word to tell me what thou art That thus appearst in such a glorious shape To intercept my death Art thou an Angel That thus wouldst shew the world what they have lost By seeing her heavenly forme Or art thou else Some spirit of Diviner excellence That hast put on that shadow thine owne nature To beautifie Or does Althea's ghost Come thus to meet and chide my slothfulnesse Or has thy worth chaste Nymph deserv'd to scape The hand of death and made thy perfect selfe All soule immortall and an unmixt spirit That those rich vertues which great nature heapt In thy creation might by envious death Ne'r be dissolv'd nor the cold senslesse earth Embrace and taint thy pure delicious beauty For which the Starres grew envious to the world What ere thou art if thou hast sense of griefe But correspondent to the shape thou bear'st Add not more torment to the depth of woe That does accompany my death and urge No more the sight and memory of her Whom I have wrong'd envy has left me nought But life to yeeld in satisfaction Which here I come to tender as thy due Or if thou doubtst the payment and didst come To take a view how willingly I dyed Then be my witnesse that the chased Stagge Flies not more swiftly to the cooling streames Then I to death He runnes up to the Rocke where both meeting shew passions of feare Alth. Stay Lucil. Speake Alth. O stay deare love Lucil. Speake speake thou heavenly spirit And tell me since thy selfe art made Divine What makes thee come in confines of the wretched And mixe thy selfe with us whose earthly loades Detaine us yet in life and misery Alth. Why I doe live Lucil. I know thou dost thou wert not fram'd to die Nor at thy birth when Heaven and Nature joyn'd To give thee those rich Dowries thou enjoy'st Did they intend to make such excellence Mortall and subject to the stroke of death But where deficient Nature could extend Her force no farther to preserve thy life Heaven would supply the want and turne thy state To immortality yet why shouldst thou When I have seene thy Funerals perform'd Come to afflict me and augment my griefe Alth. Sweet love if you doe live as feare and hope 'Twixt adverse passions make me doubtfull yet Know that I live as when we parted last Nor ere was yet interr'd Lucil. No no the earth grew feeling of her losse And grieving to be robb'd of such a jemme Refus'd to shut that treasure in her wombe Where foule corruption must have tainted it Or did my fortunes yet beyond