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+Project Gutenberg's The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18), by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18)
+       Limberham; Oedipus; Troilus and Cressida; The Spanish Friar
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2005 [EBook #16456]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                                WORKS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                             JOHN DRYDEN,
+
+                         NOW FIRST COLLECTED
+
+                        _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._
+
+
+
+                             ILLUSTRATED
+
+                             WITH NOTES,
+
+                HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY;
+
+                                 AND
+
+                        A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,
+
+                                  BY
+
+                          WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.
+
+
+
+                               VOL. VI.
+
+                               LONDON:
+
+            PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,
+
+                BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.
+
+
+                                1808.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            VOLUME SIXTH.
+
+Limberham, or the Kind Keeper, a Comedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Vaughan
+
+
+OEdipus, a Tragedy
+        Preface
+
+
+Troilus and Cressida, or Truth found too late, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Sunderland
+        Preface
+
+
+The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Haughton
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                           THE KIND KEEPER.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               COMEDY.
+
+
+      [Greek: Kên me phagês epi rhizan, homôs eti karpophorêsô.
+                                   Anthologia Dentera.]
+
+
+           _Hic nuptarum insanit amoribus; hic meretricum:
+             Omnes hi metuunt versus; odere poetas._
+                                   HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM.
+
+
+The extreme indelicacy of this play would, in the present times
+furnish ample and most just grounds for the unfavourable reception it
+met with from the public. But in the reign of Charles II. many plays
+were applauded, in which the painting is, at least, as coarse as that
+of Dryden. "Bellamira, or the Mistress," a gross translation by Sir
+Charles Sedley of Terence's "Eunuchus," had been often represented
+with the highest approbation. But the satire of Dryden was rather
+accounted too personal, than too loose. The character of Limberham has
+been supposed to represent Lauderdale, whose age and uncouth figure
+rendered ridiculous his ungainly affectation of fashionable vices. Mr
+Malone intimates a suspicion, that Shaftesbury was the person levelled
+at, whose lameness and infirmities made the satire equally poignant.
+In either supposition, a powerful and leading nobleman was offended,
+to whose party all seem to have drawn, whose loose conduct, in that
+loose age, exposed them to be duped like the hero of the play. It is a
+singular mark of the dissolute manners of those times, that an
+audience, to whom matrimonial infidelity was nightly held out, not
+only as the most venial of trespasses, but as a matter of triumphant
+applause, were unable to brook any ridicule, upon the mere transitory
+connection formed betwixt the keeper and his mistress. Dryden had
+spared neither kind of union; and accordingly his opponents exclaimed,
+"That he lampooned the court, to oblige his friends in the city, and
+ridiculed the city, to secure a promising lord at court; exposed the
+kind keepers of Covent Garden, to please the cuckolds of Cheapside;
+and drolled on the city Do-littles, to tickle the Covent-Garden
+Limberhams[1]." Even Langbaine, relentless as he is in criticism,
+seems to have considered the condemnation of Limberham as the
+vengeance of the faction ridiculed.
+
+"In this play, (which I take to be the best comedy of his) he so much
+exposed the keeping part of the town, that the play was stopt when it
+had but thrice appeared on the stage; but the author took a becoming
+care, that the things that offended on the stage, were either altered
+or omitted in the press. One of our modern writers, in a short satire
+against keeping, concludes thus:
+
+  "Dryden, good man, thought keepers to reclaim,
+  Writ a kind satire, call'd it Limberham.
+  This all the herd of letchers straight alarms;
+  From Charing-Cross to Bow was up in arms:
+  They damn'd the play all at one fatal blow,
+  And broke the glass, that did their picture show."
+
+Mr Malone mentions his having seen a MS. copy of this play, found by
+Lord Bolingbroke among the sweepings of Pope's study, in which there
+occur several indecent passages, not to be found in the printed copy.
+These, doubtless, constituted the castrations, which, in obedience to
+the public voice, our author expunged from his play, after its
+condemnation. It is difficult to guess what could be the nature of the
+indecencies struck out, when we consider those which the poet deemed
+himself at liberty to retain.
+
+The reader will probably easily excuse any remarks upon this comedy.
+It is not absolutely without humour, but is so disgustingly coarse, as
+entirely to destroy that merit. Langbaine, with his usual anxiety of
+research, traces back a few of the incidents to the novels of Cinthio
+Giraldi, and to those of some forgotten French authors.
+
+Plays, even of this nature, being worth preservation, as containing
+genuine traces of the manners of the age in which they appear, I
+cannot but remark the promiscuous intercourse, which, in this comedy
+and others, is represented as taking place betwixt women of character,
+and those who made no pretensions to it. Bellamira in Sir Charles
+Sedley's play, and Mrs Tricksy in the following pages, are admitted
+into company with the modest female characters, without the least hint
+of exception or impropriety. Such were actually the manners of Charles
+the II.d's time, where we find the mistresses of the king, and his
+brothers, familiar in the highest circles. It appears, from the
+evidence in the case of the duchess of Norfolk for adultery, that Nell
+Gwyn was living with her Grace in familiar habits; her society,
+doubtless, paving the way for the intrigue, by which the unfortunate
+lady lost her rank and reputation[2]. It is always symptomatic of a
+total decay of morals, where female reputation neither confers
+dignity, nor excites pride, in its possessor; but is consistent with
+her mingling in the society of the libertine and the profligate.
+
+Some of Dryden's libellers draw an invidious comparison betwixt his
+own private life and this satire; and exhort him to
+
+  Be to vices, which he practised, kind.
+
+But of the injustice of this charge on Dryden's character, we have
+spoken fully elsewhere. Undoubtedly he had the licence of this, and
+his other dramatic writings, in his mind, when he wrote the following
+verses; where the impurity of the stage is traced to its radical
+source, the debauchery of the court:
+
+  Then courts of kings were held in high renown,
+  Ere made the common brothels of the town.
+  There virgins honourable vows received,
+  But chaste, as maids in monasteries, lived.
+  The king himself, to nuptial rites a slave,
+  No bad example to his poets gave;
+  And they, not bad, but in a vicious age,
+  Had not, to please the prince, debauched the stage.
+                                   _Wife of Bath's Tale._
+
+"Limberham" was acted at the Duke's Theatre in Dorset-Garden; for,
+being a satire upon a court vice, it was deemed peculiarly calculated
+for that play-house. The concourse of the citizens thither is alluded
+to in the prologue to "Marriage-a-la-Mode." Ravenscroft also, in his
+epilogue to the "Citizen turned Gentleman," acted at the same theatre,
+disowns the patronage of the courtiers who kept mistresses, probably
+because they Constituted the minor part of his audience:
+
+  From the court party we hope no success;
+  Our author is not one of the noblesse,
+  That bravely does maintain his miss in town,
+  Whilst my great lady is with speed sent down,
+  And forced in country mansion-house to fix.
+  That miss may rattle here in coach-and-six.
+
+The stage for introducing "Limberham" was therefore judiciously
+chosen, although the piece was ill received, and withdrawn after being
+only thrice represented. It was printed in 1678.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Reasons for Mr Bayes changing his Religion, p. 24.
+
+2. See State Trials, vol. viii. pp. 17, 18.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                         LORD VAUGHAN, &c[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+I cannot easily excuse the printing of a play at so unseasonable a
+time[2], when the great plot of the nation, like one of Pharaoh's lean
+kine, has devoured its younger brethren of the stage. But however weak
+my defence might be for this, I am sure I should not need any to the
+world for my dedication to your lordship; and if you can pardon my
+presumption in it, that a bad poet should address himself to so great
+a judge of wit, I may hope at least to escape with the excuse of
+Catullus, when he writ to Cicero:
+
+  _Gratias tibi maximas Catullus
+  Agit, pessimus omnium, poeta;
+  Tanto pessimus omnium poeta,
+  Quanto tu optimns omnium patronus._
+
+I have seen an epistle of Flecknoe's to a nobleman, who was by some
+extraordinary chance a scholar; (and you may please to take notice by
+the way, how natural the connection of thought is betwixt a bad poet
+and Flecknoe) where he begins thus: _Quatuordecim jam elapsi sunt
+anni,_ &c.; his Latin, it seems, not holding out to the end of the
+sentence: but he endeavoured to tell his patron, betwixt two languages
+which he understood alike, that it was fourteen years since he had the
+happiness to know him. It is just so long, (and as happy be the omen
+of dulness to me, as it is to some clergymen and statesmen!) since
+your lordship has known, that there is a worse poet remaining in the
+world, than he of scandalous memory, who left it last[3]. I might
+enlarge upon the subject with my author, and assure you, that I have
+served as long for you, as one of the patriarchs did for his
+Old-Testament mistress; but I leave those flourishes, when occasion
+shall serve, for a greater orator to use, and dare only tell you, that
+I never passed any part of my life with greater satisfaction or
+improvement to myself, than those years which I have lived in the
+honour of your lordship's acquaintance; if I may have only the time
+abated when the public service called you to another part of the
+world, which, in imitation of our florid speakers, I might (if I durst
+presume upon the expression) call the _parenthesis of my life_.
+
+That I have always honoured you, I suppose I need not tell you at this
+time of day; for you know I staid not to date my respects to you from
+that title which now you have, and to which you bring a greater
+addition by your merit, than you receive from it by the name; but I am
+proud to let others know, how long it is that I have been made happy
+by my knowledge of you; because I am sure it will give me a reputation
+with the present age, and with posterity. And now, my lord, I know you
+are afraid, lest I should take this occasion, which lies so fair for
+me, to acquaint the world with some of those excellencies which I have
+admired in you; but I have reasonably considered, that to acquaint the
+world, is a phrase of a malicious meaning; for it would imply, that
+the world were not already acquainted with them. You are so generally
+known to be above the meanness of my praises, that you have spared my
+evidence, and spoiled my compliment: Should I take for my common
+places, your knowledge both of the old and the new philosophy; should
+I add to these your skill in mathematics and history; and yet farther,
+your being conversant with all the ancient authors of the Greek and
+Latin tongues, as well as with the modern--I should tell nothing new
+to mankind; for when I have once but named you, the world will
+anticipate all my commendations, and go faster before me than I can
+follow. Be therefore secure, my lord, that your own fame has freed
+itself from the danger of a panegyric; and only give me leave to tell
+you, that I value the candour of your nature, and that one character
+of friendliness, and, if I may have leave to call it, kindness in you,
+before all those other which make you considerable in the nation[4].
+
+Some few of our nobility are learned, and therefore I will not
+conclude an absolute contradiction in the terms of nobleman and
+scholar; but as the world goes now, 'tis very hard to predicate one
+upon the other; and 'tis yet more difficult to prove, that a nobleman
+can be a friend to poetry. Were it not for two or three instances in
+Whitehall, and in the town, the poets of this age would find so little
+encouragement for their labours, and so few understanders, that they
+might have leisure to turn pamphleteers, and augment the number of
+those abominable scribblers, who, in this time of licence, abuse the
+press, almost every day, with nonsense, and railing against the
+government.
+
+It remains, my lord, that I should give you some account of this
+comedy, which you have never seen; because it was written and acted in
+your absence, at your government of Jamaica. It was intended for an
+honest satire against our crying sin of _keeping_; how it would have
+succeeded, I can but guess, for it was permitted to be acted only
+thrice. The crime, for which it suffered, was that which is objected
+against the satires of Juvenal, and the epigrams of Catullus, that it
+expressed too much of the vice which it decried. Your lordship knows
+what answer was returned by the elder of those poets, whom I last
+mentioned, to his accusers:
+
+  _--castum esse decet pium poetam
+  Ipsum. Versiculos nihil necesse est:
+  Qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem
+  Si sint molliculi et parum pudici._
+
+But I dare not make that apology for myself; and therefore have taken
+a becoming care, that those things which offended on the stage, might
+be either altered, or omitted in the press; for their authority is,
+and shall be, ever sacred to me, as much absent as present, and in all
+alterations of their fortune, who for those reasons have stopped its
+farther appearance on the theatre. And whatsoever hindrance it has
+been to me in point of profit, many of my friends can bear me witness,
+that I have not once murmured against that decree. The same fortune
+once happened to Moliere, on the occasion of his "Tartuffe;" which,
+notwithstanding, afterwards has seen the light, in a country more
+bigot than ours, and is accounted amongst the best pieces of that
+poet. I will be bold enough to say, that this comedy is of the first
+rank of those which I have written, and that posterity will be of my
+opinion. It has nothing of particular satire in it; for whatsoever may
+have been pretended by some critics in the town, I may safely and
+solemnly affirm, that no one character has been drawn from any single
+man; and that I have known so many of the same humour, in every folly
+which is here exposed, as may serve to warrant it from a particular
+reflection. It was printed in my absence from the town, this summer,
+much against my expectation; otherwise I had over-looked the press,
+and been yet more careful, that neither my friends should have had the
+least occasion of unkindness against me, nor my enemies of upbraiding
+me; but if it live to a second impression, I will faithfully perform
+what has been wanting in this. In the mean time, my lord, I recommend
+it to your protection, and beg I may keep still that place in your
+favour which I have hitherto enjoyed; and which I shall reckon as one
+of the greatest blessings which can befall,
+
+  My Lord,
+
+    Your Lordship's most obedient,
+      Faithful servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John, Lord Vaughan, was the eldest surviving son of Richard, Earl
+   of Carbery, to which title he afterwards succeeded. He was a man of
+   literature, and president of the Royal Society from 1686 to 1689.
+   Dryden was distinguished by his patronage as far back as 1664,
+   being fourteen years before the acting of this play. Lord Vaughan
+   had thus the honour of discovering and admiring the poet's genius,
+   before the public applause had fixed his fame; and, probably better
+   deserved the panegyric here bestowed, than was Usual among Dryden's
+   patrons. He wrote a recommendatory copy of verses, which are
+   prefixed to "The Conquest of Granada." Mr Malone informs us, that
+   this accomplished nobleman died at Chelsea, on 16th January,
+   1712-13.
+
+2. The great popish plot, that scene of mystery and blood, broke out
+   in August 1678.
+
+3. Flecknoe was a Roman Catholic priest, very much addicted to
+   scribbling verses. His name has been chiefly preserved by our
+   author's satire of "Mack-Flecknoe;" in which he has depicted
+   Shadwell, as the literary son and heir of this wretched poetaster.
+   A few farther particulars concerning him may be found prefixed to
+   that poem. Flecknoe, from this dedication, appears to have been
+   just deceased. The particular passage referred to has not been
+   discovered; even Langbaine had never seen it: but Mr Malone points
+   out a letter of Flecknoe to the Cardinal Barberini, whereof the
+   first sentence is in Latin, and the next in English. Our author, in
+   an uncommon strain of self-depreciation, or rather to give a neat
+   turn to his sentence, has avouched himself to be a worse poet than
+   Flecknoe. But expressions of modesty in a dedication, like those of
+   panegyric, are not to be understood literally. As in the latter,
+   Dryden often strains a note beyond _Ela_, so, on the present
+   occasion, he has certainly sounded the very base string of
+   humility. Poor Flecknoe, indeed, seems to have become proverbial,
+   as the worst of poets. The Earl of Dorset thus begins a satire on
+   Edward Howard:
+
+     Those damned antipodes to common sense,
+     Those toils to Flecknoe, pr'ythee, tell me whence
+     Does all this mighty mass of dulness spring,
+     Which in such loads thou to the stage dost bring?
+
+4. There is a very flat and prosaic imitation of this sentiment in the
+   Duke of Buckingham's lines to Pope:
+
+     And yet so wondrous, so sublime a thing
+     As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing;
+     Except I justly could at once commend
+     A good companion, and as firm a friend;
+     One moral, or a mere well-natured deed,
+     Does all desert in sciences exceed.
+
+   Thus prose may be humbled, as well as exalted; into poetry.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  True wit has seen its best days long ago;
+  It ne'er looked up, since we were dipt in show;
+  When sense in doggrel rhimes and clouds was lost,
+  And dulness flourished at the actor's cost.
+  Nor stopt it here; when tragedy was done,
+  Satire and humour the same fate have run,
+  And comedy is sunk to trick and pun.
+  Now our machining lumber will not sell,
+  And you no longer care for heaven or hell;
+  What stuff will please you next, the Lord can tell.
+  Let them, who the rebellion first began
+  To wit, restore the monarch, if they can;
+  Our author dares not be the first bold man.
+  He, like the prudent citizen, takes care,
+  To keep for better marts his staple ware;
+  His toys are good enough for Sturbridge fair.
+  Tricks were the fashion; if it now be spent,
+  'Tis time enough at Easter, to invent;
+  No man will make up a new suit for Lent.
+  If now and then he takes a small pretence,
+  To forage for a little wit and sense,
+  Pray pardon him, he meant you no offence.
+  Next summer, Nostradamus tells, they say,
+  That all the critics shall be shipped away,
+  And not enow be left to damn a play.
+  To every sail beside, good heaven, be kind;
+  But drive away that swarm with such a wind,
+  That not one locust may be left behind!
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+  ALDO, _an honest, good-natured, free-hearted old gentleman of the
+        town._
+  WOODALL, _his son, under a false name; bred abroad, and now returned
+           from travel._
+  LIMBERHAM, _a tame, foolish keeper, persuaded by what is last said
+             to him, and changing next word._
+  BRAINSICK, _a husband, who, being well conceited of himself,
+             despises his wife: vehement and eloquent, as he thinks;
+             but indeed a talker of nonsense._
+  GERVASE, WOODALL'S _man: formal, and apt to give good counsel._
+  GILES, WOODALL'S _cast servant._
+
+  MRS SAINTLY, _an hypocritical fanatic, landlady of the
+               boarding-house._
+  MRS TRICKSY, _a termagant kept mistress._
+  MRS PLEASANCE, _supposed daughter to_ MRS SAINTLY: _Spiteful and
+                 satirical; but secretly in love with_ WOODALL.
+  MRS BRAINSICK.
+  JUDITH, _a maid of the house._
+
+SCENE--_A Boarding-house in Town._
+
+
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM;
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                             KIND KEEPER.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_An open Garden-House; a table in it, and chairs._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Wood._ Bid the footman receive the trunks and portmantua; and see
+them placed in the lodgings you have taken for me, while I walk a turn
+here in the garden.
+
+_Gerv._ It is already ordered, sir. But they are like to stay in the
+outer-room, till the mistress of the house return from morning
+exercise.
+
+_Wood._ What, she's gone to the parish church, it seems, to her
+devotions!
+
+_Gerv._ No, sir; the servants have informed me, that she rises every
+morning, and goes to a private meeting-house; where they pray for the
+government, and practise against the authority of it.
+
+_Wood._ And hast thou trepanned me into a tabernacle of the godly? Is
+this pious boarding-house a place for me, thou wicked varlet?
+
+_Gerv._ According to human appearance, I must confess, it is neither
+fit for you, nor you for it; but have patience, sir; matters are not
+so bad as they may seem. There are pious bawdy-houses in the world, or
+conventicles would not be so much frequented. Neither is it
+impossible, but a devout fanatic landlady of a boarding-house may be a
+bawd.
+
+_Wood._ Ay, to those of her own church, I grant you, Gervase; but I am
+none of those.
+
+_Gerv._ If I were worthy to read you a lecture in the mystery of
+wickedness, I would instruct you first in the art of seeming holiness:
+But, heaven be thanked, you have a toward and pregnant genius to vice,
+and need not any man's instruction; and I am too good, I thank my
+stars, for the vile employment of a pimp.
+
+_Wood._ Then thou art even too good for me; a worse man will serve my
+turn.
+
+_Gerv._ I call your conscience to witness, how often I have given you
+wholesome counsel; how often I have said to you, with tears in my
+eyes, master, or master Aldo--
+
+_Wood._ Mr Woodall, you rogue! that is my _nomme de guerre._ You know
+I have laid by Aldo, for fear that name should bring me to the notice
+of my father.
+
+_Gerv._ Cry you mercy, good Mr Woodall. How often have I said,--Into
+what courses do you run! Your father sent you into France at twelve
+years old; bred you up at Paris, first in a college, and then at an
+academy: At the first, instead of running through a course of
+philosophy, you ran through all the bawdy-houses in town: At the
+latter, instead of managing the great horse, you exercised on your
+master's wife. What you did in Germany, I know not; but that you beat
+them all at their own weapon, drinking, and have brought home a goblet
+of plate from Munster, for the prize of swallowing a gallon of Rhenish
+more than the bishop.
+
+_Wood._ Gervase, thou shalt be my chronicler; thou losest none of my
+heroic actions.
+
+_Gerv._ What a comfort are you like to prove to your good old father!
+You have run a campaigning among the French these last three years,
+without his leave; and now he sends for you back, to settle you in the
+world, and marry you to the heiress of a rich gentleman, of whom he
+had the guardianship, yet you do not make your application to him.
+
+_Wood._ Pr'ythee, no more.
+
+_Gerv._ You are come over, have been in town above a week _incognito_,
+haunting play-houses, and other places, which for modesty I name not;
+and have changed your name from Aldo to Woodall, for fear of being
+discovered to him: You have not so much as inquired where he is
+lodged, though you know he is most commonly in London: And lastly, you
+have discharged my honest fellow-servant Giles, because--
+
+_Wood._ Because he was too saucy, and was ever offering to give me
+counsel: Mark that, and tremble at his destiny.
+
+_Gerv._ I know the reason why I am kept; because you cannot be
+discovered by my means; for you took me up in France, and your father
+knows me not.
+
+_Wood._ I must have a ramble in the town: When I have spent my money,
+I will grow dutiful, see my father, and ask for more. In the mean
+time, I have beheld a handsome woman at a play, I am fallen in love
+with her, and have found her easy: Thou, I thank thee, hast traced her
+to her lodging in this boarding-house, and hither I am come, to
+accomplish my design.
+
+_Gerv._ Well, heaven mend all. I hear our landlady's voice without;
+[_Noise._] and therefore shall defer my counsel to a fitter season.
+
+_Wood._ Not a syllable of counsel: The next grave sentence, thou
+marchest after Giles. Woodall's my name; remember that.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY.
+
+Is this the lady of the house?
+
+_Gerv._ Yes, Mr Woodall, for want of a better, as she will tell you.
+
+_Wood._ She has a notable smack with her! I believe zeal first taught
+the art of kissing close.                             [_Saluting her._
+
+_Saint._ You are welcome, gentleman. Woodall is your name?
+
+_Wood._ I call myself so.
+
+_Saint._ You look like a sober discreet gentleman; there is grace in
+your countenance.
+
+_Wood._ Some sprinklings of it, madam: We must not boast.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, boasting is of an evil principle.
+
+_Wood._ Faith, madam--
+
+_Saint._ No swearing, I beseech you. Of what church are you?
+
+_Wood._ Why, of Covent-Garden church, I think.
+
+_Gerv._ How lewdly and ignorantly he answers! [_Aside_] She means, of
+what religion are you?
+
+_Wood._ O, does she so?--Why, I am of your religion, be it what it
+will; I warrant it a right one: I'll not stand with you for a trifle;
+presbyterian, independent, anabaptist, they are all of them too good
+for us, unless we had the grace to follow them.
+
+_Saint._ I see you are ignorant; but verily, you are a new vessel, and
+I may season you. I hope you do not use the parish-church.
+
+_Wood._ Faith, madam--cry you mercy; (I forgot again) I have been in
+England but five days.
+
+_Saint._ I find a certain motion within me to this young man, and must
+secure him to myself, ere he see my lodgers. [_Aside._]--O, seriously,
+I had forgotten; your trunk and portmantua are standing in the hall;
+your lodgings are ready, and your man may place them, if he please,
+while you and I confer together.
+
+_Wood._ Go, Gervase, and do as you are directed.          [_Exit_ GER.
+
+_Saint._ In the first place, you must know, we are a company of
+ourselves, and expect you should live conformably and lovingly amongst
+us.
+
+_Wood._ There you have hit me. I am the most loving soul, and shall be
+conformable to all of you.
+
+_Saint._ And to me especially. Then, I hope, you are no keeper of late
+hours.
+
+_Wood._ No, no, my hours are very early; betwixt three and four in the
+morning, commonly.
+
+_Saint._ That must be amended; but, to remedy the inconvenience, I
+will myself sit up for you. I hope, you would not offer violence to
+me?
+
+_Wood._ I think I should not, if I were sober.
+
+_Saint._ Then, if you were overtaken, and should offer violence, and I
+consent not, you may do your filthy part, and I am blameless.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] I think the devil's in her; she has given me the
+hint again.--Well, it shall go hard, but I will offer violence
+sometimes; will that content you?
+
+_Saint._ I have a cup of cordial water in my closet, which will help
+to strengthen nature, and to carry off a debauch: I do not invite you
+thither; but the house will be safe a-bed, and scandal will be
+avoided.
+
+_Wood._ Hang scandal; I am above it at those times.
+
+_Saint._ But scandal is the greatest part of the offence; you must be
+secret. And I must warn you of another thing; there are, besides
+myself, two more young women in my house.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] That, besides herself, is a cooling card.--Pray,
+how young are they?
+
+_Saint._ About my age: some eighteen, or twenty, or thereabouts.
+
+_Wood._ Oh, very good! Two more young women besides yourself, and both
+handsome?
+
+_Saint._ No, verily, they are painted outsides; you must not cast your
+eyes upon them, nor listen to their conversation: You are already
+chosen for a better work.
+
+_Wood._ I warrant you, let me alone: I am chosen, I.
+
+_Saint._ They are a couple of alluring wanton minxes.
+
+_Wood._ Are they very alluring, say you? very wanton?
+
+_Saint._ You appear exalted, when I mention those pit-falls of
+iniquity.
+
+_Wood._ Who, I exalted? Good faith, I am as sober, a melancholy poor
+soul!--
+
+_Saint._ I see this abominable sin of swearing is rooted in you. Tear
+it out; oh, tear it out! it will destroy your precious soul.
+
+_Wood._ I find we two shall scarce agree: I must not come to your
+closet when I have got a bottle; for, at such a time, I am horribly
+given to it.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, a little swearing may be then allowable: You may
+swear you love me, it is a lawful oath; but then, you must not look on
+harlots.
+
+_Wood._ I must wheedle her, and whet my courage first on her; as a
+good musician always preludes before a tune. Come, here is my first
+oath.                                                [_Embracing her._
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, Mrs Saintly! what work have we here towards?
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Aldo, my own natural father, as I live! I remember
+the lines of that hide-bound face: Does he lodge here? If he should
+know me, I am ruined.
+
+_Saint._ Curse on his coming! he has disturbed us. [_Aside._] Well,
+young gentleman, I shall take a time to instruct you better.
+
+_Wood._ You shall find me an apt scholar.
+
+_Saint._ I must go abroad upon some business; but remember your
+promise, to carry yourself soberly, and without scandal in my family;
+and so I leave you to this gentleman, who is a member of it.
+                                                        [_Exit_ SAINT.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] Before George, a proper fellow, and a swinger he
+should be, by his make! the rogue would humble a whore, I warrant
+him.--You are welcome, sir, amongst us; most heartily welcome, as I
+may say.
+
+_Wood._ All's well: he knows me not.--Sir, your civility is obliging
+to a stranger, and may befriend me, in the acquaintance of our
+fellow-lodgers.
+
+_Aldo._ Hold you there, sir: I must first understand you a little
+better; and yet, methinks, you should be true to love.
+
+_Wood._ Drinking and wenching are but slips of youth: I had those two
+good qualities from my father.
+
+_Aldo._ Thou, boy! Aha, boy! a true Trojan, I warrant thee! [_Hugging
+him._] Well, I say no more; but you are lighted into such a family,
+such food for concupiscence, such _bona roba's_!
+
+_Wood._ One I know, indeed; a wife: But _bona roba's_, say you?
+
+_Aldo._ I say, _bona roba's_, in the plural number.
+
+_Wood._ Why, what a Turk Mahomet shall I be! No, I will not make
+myself drunk with the conceit of so much joy: The fortune's too great
+for mortal man; and I a poor unworthy sinner.
+
+_Aldo._ Would I lie to my friend? Am I a man? Am I a christian? There
+is that wife you mentioned, a delicate little wheedling devil, with
+such an appearance of simplicity; and with that, she does so
+undermine, so fool her conceited husband, that he despises her!
+
+_Wood._ Just ripe for horns: His destiny, like a Turk's, is written in
+his forehead.[1]
+
+_Aldo._ Peace, peace! thou art yet ordained for greater things. There
+is another, too, a kept mistress, a brave strapping jade, a two-handed
+whore!
+
+_Wood._ A kept mistress, too! my bowels yearn to her already: she is
+certain prize.
+
+_Aldo._ But this lady is so termagant an empress! and he is so
+submissive, so tame, so led a keeper, and as proud of his slavery as a
+Frenchman. I am confident he dares not find her false, for fear of a
+quarrel with her; because he is sure to be at the charges of the war.
+She knows he cannot live without her, and therefore seeks occasions of
+falling out, to make him purchase peace. I believe she is now aiming
+at a settlement.
+
+_Wood._ Might not I ask you one civil question? How pass you your time
+in this noble family? For I find you are a lover of the game, and I
+should be loth to hunt in your purlieus.
+
+_Aldo._ I must first tell you something of my condition. I am here a
+friend to all of them; I am their _factotum_, do all their business;
+for, not to boast, sir, I am a man of general acquaintance: There is
+no news in town, either foreign or domestic, but I have it first; no
+mortgage of lands, no sale of houses, but I have a finger in them.
+
+_Wood._ Then, I suppose, you are a gainer by your pains.
+
+_Aldo._ No, I do all _gratis_, and am most commonly a loser; only a
+buck sometimes from this good lord, or that good lady in the country:
+and I eat it not alone, I must have company.
+
+_Wood._ Pray, what company do you invite?
+
+_Aldo._ Peace, peace, I am coming to you: Why, you must know I am
+tender-natured; and if any unhappy difference have arisen betwixt a
+mistress and her gallant, then I strike in, to do good offices betwixt
+them; and, at my own proper charges, conclude the quarrel with a
+reconciling supper.
+
+_Wood._ I find the ladies of pleasure are beholden to you.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I love the poor little devils. I am indeed a
+father to them, and so they call me: I give them my counsel, and
+assist them with my purse. I cannot see a pretty sinner hurried to
+prison by the land-pirates, but nature works, and I must bail her; or
+want a supper, but I have a couple of crammed chickens, a cream tart,
+and a bottle of wine to offer her.
+
+_Wood._ Sure you expect some kindness in return.
+
+_Aldo._ Faith, not much: Nature in me is at low water-mark; my body's
+a jade, and tires under me; yet I love to smuggle still in a corner;
+pat them down, and pur over them; but, after that, I can do them
+little harm.
+
+_Wood._ Then I'm acquainted with your business: You would be a kind of
+deputy-fumbler under me.
+
+_Aldo._ You have me right. Be you the lion, to devour the prey; I am
+your jackall, to provide it for you: There will be a bone for me to
+pick.
+
+_Wood._ Your humility becomes your age. For my part, I am vigorous,
+and throw at all.
+
+_Aldo._ As right as if I had begot thee! Wilt thou give me leave to
+call thee son?
+
+_Wood._ With all my heart.
+
+_Aldo._ Ha, mad son!
+
+_Wood._ Mad daddy!
+
+_Aldo._ Your man told me, you were just returned from travel: What
+parts have you last visited?
+
+_Wood._ I came from France.
+
+_Aldo._ Then, perhaps, you may have known an ungracious boy of mine
+there.
+
+_Wood._ Like enough: Pray, what's his name?
+
+_Aldo._ George Aldo.
+
+_Wood._ I must confess I do know the gentleman; satisfy yourself, he's
+in health, and upon his return.
+
+_Aldo._ That's some comfort: But, I hear, a very rogue, a lewd young
+fellow.
+
+_Wood._ The worst I know of him is, that he loves a wench; and that
+good quality he has not stolen. [_Music at the Balcony over head: Mrs_
+TRICKSY _and_ JUDITH _appear._]--Hark! There's music above.
+
+_Aldo._ 'Tis at my daughter Tricksy's lodging; the kept mistress I
+told you of, the lass of mettle. But for all she carries it so high, I
+know her pedigree; her mother's a sempstress in Dog-and-Bitch yard,
+and was, in her youth, as right as she is.
+
+_Wood._ Then she's a two-piled punk, a punk of two descents.
+
+_Aldo._ And her father, the famous cobler, who taught Walsingham to
+the black-birds. How stand thy affections to her, thou lusty rogue?
+
+_Wood._ All on fire: A most urging creature!
+
+_Aldo._ Peace! they are beginning.
+
+          A SONG.
+
+              I.
+
+  _'Gainst keepers we petition,
+    Who would inclose the common:
+  'Tis enough to raise sedition
+    In the free-born subject, woman.
+  Because for his gold,
+    I my body have sold,
+  He thinks I'm a slave for my life;
+    He rants, domineers,
+  He swaggers and swears,
+    And would keep me as bare as his wife._
+
+              II.
+
+  _'Gainst keepers we petition, &c.
+    'Tis honest and fair,
+  That a feast I prepare;
+    But when his dull appetite's o'er,
+  I'll treat with the rest
+    Some welcomer guest,
+  For the reckoning was paid me before._
+
+_Wood._ A song against keepers! this makes well for us lusty lovers.
+
+_Trick._ [_Above._] Father, father Aldo!
+
+_Aldo._ Daughter Tricksy, are you there, child? your friends at Barnet
+are all well, and your dear master Limberham, that noble Hephestion,
+is returning with them.
+
+_Trick._ And you are come upon the spur before, to acquaint me with
+the news.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, thou art the happiest rogue in a kind keeper! He drank
+thy health five times, _supernaculum_,[2] to my son Brain-sick; and
+dipt my daughter Pleasance's little finger, to make it go down more
+glibly:[3] And, before George, I grew tory rory, as they say, and
+strained a brimmer through the lily-white smock, i'faith.
+
+_Trick._ You will never leave these fumbling tricks, father, till you
+are taken up on suspicion of manhood, and have a bastard laid at your
+door: I am sure you would own it, for your credit.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I should not see it starve, for the mother's
+sake: For, if she were a punk, she was good-natured, I warrant her.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Well, if ever son was blest with a hopeful father,
+I am.
+
+_Trick._ Who is that gentleman with you?
+
+_Aldo._ A young _monsieur_ returned from travel; a lusty young rogue;
+a true-milled whoremaster, with the right stamp. He is a
+fellow-lodger, incorporate in our society: For whose sake he came
+hither, let him tell you.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Are you gloating already? then there's hopes,
+i'faith.
+
+_Trick._ You seem to know him, father.
+
+_Aldo._ Know him! from his cradle--What's your name?
+
+_Wood._ Woodall.
+
+_Ald._ Woodall of Woodall; I knew his father; we were contemporaries,
+and fellow-wenchers in our youth.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] My honest father stumbles into truth, in spite of
+lying.
+
+_Trick._ I was just coming down to the garden-house, before you came.
+                                                  [TRICKSY _descends._
+
+_Aldo._ I am sorry I cannot stay to present my son, Woodall, to you;
+but I have set you together, that's enough for me.            [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ [_Alone._] 'Twas my study to avoid my father, and I have run
+full into his mouth: and yet I have a strong hank upon him too; for I
+am privy to as many of his virtues, as he is of mine. After all, if I
+had an ounce of discretion left, I should pursue this business no
+farther: but two fine women in a house! well, it is resolved, come
+what will on it, thou art answerable for all my sins, old Aldo--
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _with a box of essences._
+
+Here she comes, this heir-apparent of a sempstress, and a cobler! and
+yet, as she's adorned, she looks like any princess of the blood.
+                                                       [_Salutes her._
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] What a difference there is between this gentleman,
+and my feeble keeper, Mr Limberham! he's to my wish, if he would but
+make the least advances to me.--Father Aldo tells me, sir, you are a
+traveller: What adventures have you had in foreign countries?
+
+_Wood._ I have no adventures of my own, can deserve your curiosity;
+but, now I think on it, I can tell you one that happened to a French
+cavalier, a friend of mine, at Tripoli.
+
+_Trick._ No wars, I beseech you: I am so weary of father Aldo's
+Loraine and Crequi.
+
+_Wood._ Then this is as you would desire it, a love-adventure. This
+French gentleman was made a slave to the Dey of Tripoli; by his good
+qualities, gained his master's favour; and after, by corrupting an
+eunuch, was brought into the seraglio privately, to see the Dey's
+mistress.
+
+_Trick._ This is somewhat; proceed, sweet sir.
+
+_Wood._ He was so much amazed, when he first beheld her leaning over a
+balcony, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, or speak to her.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] I find him now.--But what followed of this dumb
+interview?
+
+_Wood._ The nymph was gracious, and came down to him; but with so
+goddess-like a presence, that the poor gentleman was thunder-struck
+again.
+
+_Trick._ That savoured little of the monsieur's gallantry, especially
+when the lady gave him encouragement.
+
+_Wood_ The gentleman was not so dull, but he understood the favour,
+and was presuming enough to try if she were mortal. He advanced with
+more assurance, and took her fair hands: was he not too bold, madam?
+and would not you have drawn back yours, had you been in the sultana's
+place?
+
+_Trick._ If the sultana liked him well enough to come down into the
+garden to him, I suppose she came not thither to gather nosegays.
+
+_Wood._ Give me leave, madam, to thank you, in my friend's behalf, for
+your favourable judgment. [_Kisses her hand._] He kissed her hand with
+an exceeding transport; and finding that she prest his at the same
+instant, he proceeded with a greater eagerness to her lips--but,
+madam, the story would be without life, unless you give me leave to
+act the circumstances.                                  [_Kisses her._
+
+_Trick._ Well, I'll swear you are the most natural historian!
+
+_Wood._ But now, madam, my heart beats with joy, when I come to tell
+you the sweetest part of his adventure: opportunity was favourable,
+and love was on his side; he told her, the chamber was more private,
+and a fitter scene for pleasure. Then, looking on her eyes, he found
+them languishing; he saw her cheeks blushing, and heard her voice
+faultering in a half-denial: he seized her hand with an amorous
+ecstacy, and--                                      [_Takes her hand._
+
+_Trick._ Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your friend was
+unconscionable, if he desired more favours at the first interview.
+
+_Wood._ He both desired and obtained them, madam, and so will--
+
+_Trick._ [_A noise within._] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham's voice:
+he's returned from Barnet.
+
+_Wood._ I'll avoid him.
+
+_Trick._ That's impossible; he'll meet you. Let me think a
+moment:--Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot discover you: have any of
+the servants seen you?
+
+_Wood._ None.
+
+_Trick._ Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant of essences:
+here's a little box of them just ready.
+
+_Wood._ But I speak no Italian; only a few broken scraps, which I
+picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin at Paris.
+
+_Trick._ You must venture that: When we are rid of Limberham, 'tis but
+slipping into your chamber, throwing off your black perriwig, and
+riding suit, and you come out an Englishman. No more; he's here.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay you over the lips, to take
+hansel of them, for my welcome.
+
+_Trick._ [_Putting him back._] Foh! how you smell of sweat, dear!
+
+_Limb._ I have put myself into this same unsavoury heat, out of my
+violent affection to see thee, Pug. Before George, as father Aldo
+says, I could not live without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow,
+though I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all night; and
+then I was so troublesome to father Aldo, (for you must know he and I
+were lodged together) that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him, and
+so hug him in my sleep!
+
+_Trick._ I dare be sworn 'twas in your sleep; for, when you are
+waking, you are the most honest, quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by
+woman.
+
+_Limb._ Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am come home on purpose to
+pay old debts. But who is that same fellow there? What makes he in our
+territories?
+
+_Trick._ You oaf you, do you not perceive it is the Italian seignior,
+who is come to sell me essences?
+
+_Limb._ Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is he the lampoon was
+made on.         [_Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,_ Ho, ho.
+
+_Trick._ Pr'ythee leave thy foppery, that we may have done with him.
+He asks an unreasonable price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior,
+take your trinkets, and be gone.
+
+_Wood._ [_Taking the box._] _A dio, seigniora._
+
+_Limb._ Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing is come into my
+head of the sudden.
+
+_Trick._ What would you have, you eternal sot? the man's in haste.
+
+_Limb._ But why should you be in your frumps, Pug, when I design only
+to oblige you? I must present you with this box of essences; nothing
+can be too dear for thee.
+
+_Trick._ Pray let him go, he understands no English.
+
+_Limb._ Then how could you drive a bargain with him, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ Why, by signs, you coxcomb.
+
+_Limb._ Very good! then I'll first pull him by the sleeve, that's a
+sign to stay. Look you, Mr Seignior, I would make a present of your
+essences to this lady; for I find I cannot speak too plain to you,
+because you understand no English. Be not you refractory now, but take
+ready money: that's a rule.
+
+_Wood._ _Seignioro, non intendo Inglese._
+
+_Limb._ This is a very dull fellow! he says, he does not intend
+English. How much shall I offer him, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ If you will present me, I have bidden him ten guineas.
+
+_Limb._ And, before George, you bid him fair. Look you, Mr Seignior, I
+will give you all these. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Do you
+see, Seignior?
+
+_Wood._ _Seignior, si._
+
+_Limb._ Lo' you there, Pug, he does see. Here, will you take me at my
+word?
+
+_Wood._ [_Shrugging up_] _Troppo poco, troppo poco._
+
+_Limb._ _A poco, a poco!_ why a pox on you too, an' you go to that.
+Stay, now I think on't, I can tickle him up with French; he'll
+understand that sure. _Monsieur, voulez vous prendre ces dix guinees,
+pour ces essences? mon foy c'est assez._
+
+_Wood._ _Chi vala, amici: Ho di casa! taratapa, taratapa, eus, matou,
+meau!_--[_To her._] I am at the end of my Italian; what will become of
+me?
+
+_Trick._ [_To him._] Speak any thing, and make it pass for Italian;
+but be sure you take his money.
+
+_Wood._ _Seignior, io non canno takare ten guinneo possibilmentè; 'tis
+to my losso._
+
+_Limb._ That is, Pug, he cannot possibly take ten guineas, 'tis to his
+loss: Now I understand him; this is almost English.
+
+_Trick._ English! away, you fop: 'tis a kind of _lingua Franca_, as I
+have heard the merchants call it; a certain compound language, made up
+of all tongues, that passes through the Levant.
+
+_Limb._ This _lingua_, what you call it, is the most rarest language!
+I understand it as well as if it were English; you shall see me answer
+him: _Seignioro, stay a littlo, and consider wello, ten guinnio is
+monyo, a very considerablo summo._
+
+_Trick._ Come, you shall make it twelve, and he shall take it for my
+sake.
+
+_Limb._ Then, _Seignioro,_ for _Pugsakio, addo two moro: je vous donne
+bon advise: prenez vitement: prenez me à mon mot._
+
+_Wood._ _Io losero multo; ma pergagnare il vestro costumo, datemi
+hansello._
+
+_Limb._ There is both _hansello_ and _guinnio; tako, tako,_ and so
+good-morrow.
+
+_Trick._ Good-morrow, seignior; I like your spirits very well; pray
+let me have all your essence you can spare.
+
+_Limb._ Come, _Puggio,_ and let us retire in _secreto_, like lovers,
+into our _chambro_; for I grow _impatiento--bon matin, monsieur, bon
+matin et bon jour._                 [_Exeunt_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Well, get thee gone, 'squire Limberhamo, for the easiest fool
+I ever knew, next my naunt of fairies in the Alchemist[4]. I have
+escaped, thanks to my mistress's _lingua França_: I'll steal to my
+chamber, shift my perriwig and clothes; and then, with the help of
+resty Gervase, concert the business of the next campaign. My father
+sticks in my stomach still; but I am resolved to be Woodall with him,
+and Aldo with the women.                                      [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Wood._ Hitherto, sweet Gervase, we have carried matters swimmingly. I
+have danced in a net before my father, almost check-mated the keeper,
+retired to my chamber undiscovered, shifted my habit, and am come out
+an absolute monsieur, to allure the ladies. How sits my _chedreux_?
+
+_Gerv._ O very finely! with the locks combed down, like a mermaid's on
+a sign-post. Well, you think now your father may live in the same
+house with you till doomsday, and never find you; or, when he has
+found you, he will be kind enough not to consider what a property you
+have made of him. My employment is at an end; you have got a better
+pimp, thanks to your filial reverence.
+
+_Wood._ Pr'ythee, what should a man do with such a father, but use him
+thus? besides, he does journey-work under me; 'tis his humour to
+fumble, and my duty to provide for his old age.
+
+_Gerv._ Take my advice yet; down o' your marrow bones, and ask
+forgiveness; espouse the wife he has provided for you; lie by the side
+of a wholesome woman, and procreate your own progeny in the fear of
+heaven.
+
+_Wood._ I have no vocation to it, Gervase: A man of sense is not made
+for marriage; 'tis a game, which none but dull plodding fellows can
+play at well; and 'tis as natural to them, as crimp is to a Dutchman.
+
+_Gerv._ Think on't, however, sir; debauchery is upon its last legs in
+England: Witty men began the fashion, and now the fops are got into
+it, 'tis time to leave it.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ Son Woodall, thou vigorous young rogue, I congratulate thy
+good fortune; thy man has told me the adventure of the Italian
+merchant.
+
+_Wood._ Well, they are now retired together, like Rinaldo and Armida,
+to private dalliance; but we shall find a time to separate their
+loves, and strike in betwixt them, daddy. But I hear there's another
+lady in the house, my landlady's fair daughter; how came you to leave
+her out of your catalogue?
+
+_Aldo._ She's pretty, I confess, but most damnably honest; have a care
+of her, I warn you, for she's prying and malicious.
+
+_Wood._ A twang of the mother; but I love to graff on such a
+crab-tree; she may bear good fruit another year.
+
+_Aldo._ No, no, avoid her; I warrant thee, young Alexander, I will
+provide thee more worlds to conquer.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] My old master would fain pass for Philip of
+Macedon, when he is little better than Sir Pandarus of Troy.
+
+_Wood._ If you get this keeper out of doors, father, and give me but
+an opportunity--
+
+_Aldo._ Trust my diligence; I will smoke him out, as they do bees, but
+I will make him leave his honey-comb.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] If I had a thousand sons, none of the race of the
+Gervases should ever be educated by thee, thou vile old Satan!
+
+_Aldo._ Away, boy! Fix thy arms, and whet, like the lusty German boys,
+before a charge: He shall bolt immediately.
+
+_Wood._ O, fear not the vigorous five-and-twenty.
+
+_Aldo._ Hold, a word first: Thou saidst my son was shortly to come
+over.
+
+_Wood._ So he told me.
+
+_Aldo._ Thou art my bosom friend.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] Of an hour's acquaintance.
+
+_Aldo._ Be sure thou dost not discover my frailties to the young
+scoundrel: 'Twere enough to make the boy my master. I must keep up the
+dignity of old age with him.
+
+_Wood._ Keep but your own counsel, father; for whatever he knows, must
+come from you.
+
+_Aldo._ The truth on't is, I sent for him over; partly to have married
+him, and partly because his villainous bills came so thick upon me,
+that I grew weary of the charge.
+
+_Gerv._ He spared for nothing; he laid it on, sir, as I have heard.
+
+_Wood._ Peace, you lying rogue!--Believe me, sir, bating his necessary
+expences of women, which I know you would not have him want, in all
+things else, he was the best manager of your allowance; and, though I
+say it--
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] That should not say it.
+
+_Wood._ The most hopeful young gentleman in Paris.
+
+_Aldo._ Report speaks otherwise; and, before George, I shall read him
+a wormwood lecture, when I see him. But, hark, I hear the door unlock;
+the lovers are coming out: I'll stay here, to wheedle him abroad; but
+you must vanish.
+
+_Wood._ Like night and the moon, in the Maid's Tragedy: I into mist;
+you into day[5].                            [_Exeunt_ WOOD. _and_ GER.
+
+
+SCENE _changes to_ LIMBERHAM'S _apartment._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, but dear sweet honey Pug, forgive me but this once: It
+may be any man's case, when his desires are too vehement.
+
+_Trick._ Let me alone; I care not.
+
+_Limb._ But then thou wilt not love me, Pug.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, son Limberham? There's no quarrel towards, I hope.
+
+_Trick._ You had best tell now, and make yourself ridiculous.
+
+_Limb._ She's in passion: Pray do you moderate this matter, father
+Aldo.
+
+_Trick._ Father Aldo! I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so; you
+may be his father, if the truth were known.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I smell a rat, son Limberham. I doubt, I doubt,
+here has been some great omission in love affairs.
+
+_Limb._ I think all the stars in heaven have conspired my ruin. I'll
+look in my almanack.--As I hope for mercy, 'tis cross day now.
+
+_Trick._ Hang your pitiful excuses. 'Tis well known what offers I have
+had, and what fortunes I might have made with others, like a fool as I
+was, to throw away my youth and beauty upon you. I could have had a
+young handsome lord, that offered me my coach and six; besides many a
+good knight and gentleman, that would have parted with their own
+ladies, and have settled half they had upon me.
+
+_Limb._ Ay, you said so.
+
+_Trick._ I said so, sir! Who am I? Is not my word as good as yours?
+
+_Limb._ As mine gentlewoman? though I say it, my word will go for
+thousands.
+
+_Trick._ The more shame for you, that you have done no more for me:
+But I am resolved I'll not lose my time with you; I'll part.
+
+_Limb._ Do, who cares? Go to Dog-and-Bitch yard, and help your mother
+to make footmen's shirts.
+
+_Trick._ I defy you, slanderer; I defy you.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, dear daughter!
+
+_Limb._ I defy her too.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, good son!
+
+_Trick._ Let me alone: I'll have him cudgelled by my footman.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Bless us! what's here to do? My neighbours will think I keep
+a nest of unclean birds here.
+
+_Limb._ You had best peach now, and make her house be thought a
+bawdy-house!
+
+_Trick._ No, no: While you are in it, you will secure it from that
+scandal.--Hark hither, Mrs Saintly. [_Whispers._]
+
+_Limb._ Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.
+
+_Saint._ Who would have imagined you had been such a kind of man, Mr
+Limberham! O heaven, O heaven!                                [_Exit._
+
+_Limb._ So, now you have spit your venom, and the storm's over.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Crying._] That I should ever live to see this day!
+
+_Trick._ To show I can live honest, in spite of all mankind, I'll go
+into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.
+
+_Limb._ Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I am sure she will come
+back from France, before she gets half way over to Calais.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, but son Limberham, this must not be. A word in
+private;--you will never get such another woman, for love nor money.
+Do but look upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.
+
+_Limb._ Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a whore of Babylon, as
+she is.
+
+_Aldo._ Would I were worthy to be a young man, for her sake! She
+should eat pearls, if she would have them.
+
+_Limb._ She can digest them, and gold too. Let me tell you, father
+Aldo, she has the stomach of an ostrich.
+
+_Aldo._ Daughter Tricksy, a word with you.
+
+_Trick._ I'll hear nothing: I am for a nunnery.
+
+_Aldo._ I never saw a woman, before you, but first or last she would
+be brought to reason. Hark you, child, you will scarcely find so kind
+a keeper. What if he has some impediment one way? Every body is not a
+Hercules. You shall have my son Woodall, to supply his wants; but, as
+long as he maintains you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.
+
+        LIMBERHAM SINGING.
+
+  _I my own jailor was; my only foe,
+    Who did my liberty forego;
+  I was a prisoner, because I would be so._
+
+_Aldo._ Why, look you now, son Limberham, is this a song to be sung at
+such a time, when I am labouring your reconcilement? Come, daughter
+Tricksy, you must be ruled; I'll be the peace-maker.
+
+_Trick._ No, I'm just going.
+
+_Limb._ The devil take me, if I call you back.
+
+_Trick._ And his dam take me, if I return, except you do.
+
+_Aldo._ So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio! Turn to him,
+daughter: Speak to her, son: Why should you be so refractory both, to
+bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?
+
+_Limb._ I'll not be forsworn, I swore first;
+
+_Trick._ Thou art a forsworn man, however; for thou sworest to love me
+eternally.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I was such a fool, to swear so.
+
+_Aldo._ And will you have that dreadful oath lie gnawing on your
+conscience?
+
+_Trick._ Let him be damned; and so farewell for ever.--[_Going._]
+
+_Limb._ Pug!
+
+_Trick._ Did you call, Mr Limberham?
+
+_Limb._ It may be, ay; it may be, no.
+
+_Trick._ Well, I am going to the nunnery; but, to shew I am in
+charity, I'll pray for you.
+
+_Aldo._ Pray for him! fy, daughter, fy; is that an answer for a
+Christian?
+
+_Limb._ What did Pug say? will she pray for me? Well, to shew I am in
+charity, she shall not pray for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever
+think thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted with me?
+                                                             [_Cries._
+
+_Aldo._ Look you, daughter, see how nature works in him.
+
+_Limb._ I'll settle two hundred a-year upon thee, because thou said'st
+thou would'st pray for me.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you will spoil all, if you
+underbid so.  Come, down with your dust, man: What, shew a base mind,
+when a fair lady's in question!
+
+_Limb._ Well, if I must give three hundred--
+
+_Trick._ No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on a better place.
+
+_Aldo._ Come, there is no better place than little London. You shall
+not part for a trifle. What, son Limberham! four hundred a year is a
+square sum, and you shall give it.
+
+_Limb._ It is a round sum indeed; I wish a three-cornered sum would
+have served her turn.--Why should you be so pervicacious now, Pug?
+Pray take three hundred. Nay, rather than part, Pug, it shall be so.--
+[_She frowns._]
+
+_Aldo._ It shall be so, it shall be so: Come, now buss, and seal the
+bargain.
+
+_Trick._ [_Kissing him._] You see what a good natured fool I am, Mr
+Limberham, to come back into a wicked world, for love of you.--You
+will see the writings drawn, father?
+
+_Aldo._ Ay; and pay the lawyer too. Why, this is as it should be! I'll
+be at the charge of the reconciling supper.--[_To her aside._]
+Daughter, my son Woodall is waiting for you.--Come away, son Limberham
+to the temple.
+
+_Limb._ With all my heart, while she is in a good humour: It would
+cost me another hundred, if I should stay till Pug were in wrath
+again. Adieu, sweet Pug.--[_Exeunt_ ALDO, _and_ LIMB.]
+
+_Trick._ That he should be so silly to imagine I would go into a
+nunnery! it is likely; I have much nun's flesh about me. But here
+comes my gentleman.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL, _not seeing her._
+
+_Wood._ Now the wife's returned, and the daughter too, and I have seen
+them both, and am more distracted than before: I would enjoy all, and
+have not yet determined with which I should begin. It is but a kind of
+clergy-covetousness in me, to desire so many; if I stand gaping after
+pluralities, one of them is in danger to be made a _sine cure_--[_Sees
+her._] O, fortune has determined for me. It is just here, as it is in
+the world; the mistress will be served before the wife.
+
+_Trick._ How now, sir, are you rehearsing your _lingua Franca_ by
+yourself, that you walk so pensively?
+
+_Wood._ No faith, madam, I was thinking of the fair lady, who, at
+parting, bespoke so cunningly of me all my essences.
+
+_Trick._ But there are other beauties in the house; and I should be
+impatient of a rival: for I am apt to be partial to myself, and think
+I deserve to be preferred before them.
+
+_Wood._ Your beauty will allow of no competition; and I am sure my
+love could make none.
+
+_Trick._ Yes, you have seen Mrs Brainsick; she's a beauty.
+
+_Wood._ You mean, I suppose, the peaking creature, the married woman,
+with a sideling look, as if one cheek carried more bias than the
+other?
+
+_Trick._ Yes, and with a high nose, as visible as a land-mark.
+
+_Wood._ With one cheek blue, the other red; just like the covering of
+Lambeth Palace.
+
+_Trick._ Nay, but her legs, if you could see them--
+
+_Wood._ She was so foolish to wear short petticoats, and show them.
+They are pillars, gross enough to support a larger building; of the
+Tuscan order, by my troth.
+
+_Trick._ And her little head, upon that long neck, shows like a
+traitor's skull upon a pole. Then, for her wit--
+
+_Wood._ She can have none: There's not room enough for a thought to
+play in.
+
+_Trick._ I think indeed I may safely trust you with such charms; and
+you have pleased me with your description of her.
+
+_Wood._ I wish you would give me leave to please you better. But you
+transact as gravely with me as a Spaniard; and are losing love, as he
+does Flanders: you consider and demur, when the monarch is up in arms,
+and at your gates[6].
+
+_Trick._ But to yield upon the first summons, ere you have laid a
+formal siege--To-morrow may prove a luckier day to you.
+
+_Wood._ Believe me, madam, lovers are not to trust to-morrow. Love may
+die upon our hands, or opportunity be wanting; 'tis best securing the
+present hour.
+
+_Trick._ No, love's like fruit; it must have time to ripen on the
+tree; if it be green gathered, 'twill but wither afterwards.
+
+_Wood._ Rather 'tis like gun powder; that which fires quickest, is
+commonly the strongest.--By this burning kiss--
+
+_Trick._ You lovers are such froward children, ever crying for the
+breast; and, when you have once had it, fall fast asleep in the
+nurse's arms. And with what face should I look upon my keeper after
+it?
+
+_Wood._ With the same face that all mistresses look upon theirs. Come,
+come.
+
+_Trick._ But my reputation!
+
+_Wood._ Nay, that's no argument, if I should be so base to tell; for
+women get good fortunes now-a-days, by losing their credit, as a
+cunning citizen does by breaking.
+
+_Trick._ But, I'm so shame-faced! Well, I'll go in, and hide my
+blushes.                                                      [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ I'll not be long after you; for I think I have hidden my
+blushes where I shall never find them.
+
+  _Re-enter_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Trick._ As I live, Mr Limberham and father Aldo are just returned; I
+saw them entering. My settlement will miscarry, if you are found here:
+What shall we do?
+
+_Wood._ Go you into your bed-chamber, and leave me to my fortune.
+
+_Trick._ That you should be so dull! their suspicion will be as strong
+still: for what should make you here?
+
+_Wood._ The curse on't is too, I bid my man tell the family I was gone
+abroad; so that, if I am seen, you are infallibly discovered.
+                                                             [_Noise._
+
+_Trick._ Hark, I hear them! Here's a chest which I borrowed of Mrs
+Pleasance; get quickly into it, and I will lock you up: there's
+nothing in't but clothes of Limberham's, and a box of writings.
+
+_Wood._ I shall be smothered.
+
+_Trick._ Make haste, for heaven's sake; they'll quickly be gone, and
+then--
+
+_Wood._ That _then_ will make a man venture any thing.
+                               [_He goes in, and she locks the chest._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ ALDO.
+
+_Limb._ Dost thou not wonder to see me come again so quickly, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ No, I am prepared for any foolish freak of yours: I knew you
+would have a qualm, when you came to settlement.
+
+_Limb._ Your settlement depends most absolutely on that chest.
+
+_Trick._ Father Aldo, a word with you, for heaven's sake.
+
+_Aldo._ No, no, I'll not whisper. Do not stand in your own light, but
+produce the keys, daughter.
+
+_Limb._ Be not musty, my pretty St Peter, but produce the keys. I must
+have the writings out, that concern thy settlement.
+
+_Trick._ Now I see you are so reasonable, I'll show you I dare trust
+your honesty; the settlement shall be deferred till another day.
+
+_Aldo._ No deferring in these cases, daughter.
+
+_Trick._ But I have lost the keys.
+
+_Limb._ That's a jest! let me feel in thy pocket, for I must oblige
+thee.
+
+_Trick._ You shall feel no where: I have felt already and am sure they
+are lost.
+
+_Aldo._ But feel again, the lawyer stays.
+
+_Trick._ Well, to satisfy you, I will feel.--They are not here--nor
+here neither.           [_She pulls out her handkerchief, and the keys
+                         drop after it:_ LIMBERHAM _takes them up._
+
+_Limb._ Look you now, Pug! who's in the right? Well, thou art born to
+be a lucky Pug, in spite of thyself.
+
+_Trick_ [_Aside._] O, I am ruined!--One word, I beseech you, father
+Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ Not a syllable. What the devil's in you, daughter? Open, son,
+open.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aloud._] It shall not be opened; I will have my will,
+though I lose my settlement. Would I were within the chest! I would
+hold it down, to spite you. I say again, would I were within the
+chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it.--The best on't
+is, there's good inkle on the top of the inside, if he have the wit to
+lay hold on't.                                               [_Aside._
+
+_Limb._ [_Going to open it._] Before George, I think you have the
+devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open it, for the guts of me. _Hictius
+doctius!_ what's here to do? I believe, in my conscience, Pug can
+conjure: Marry, God bless us all good Christians!
+
+_Aldo._ Push hard, son.
+
+_Limb._ I cannot push; I was never good at pushing. When I push, I
+think the devil pushes too. Well, I must let it alone, for I am a
+fumbler. Here, take the keys, Pug.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Then all's safe again.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Jud._ Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the chest you borrowed of
+her. She has present occasion for it; and has desired us to carry it
+away.
+
+_Limb._ Well, that's but reason: If she must have it, she must have
+it.
+
+_Trick_ Tell her, it shall be returned some time to-day; at present we
+must crave her pardon, because we have some writings in it, which must
+first be taken out, when we can open it.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, that's but reason too: Then she must not have it.
+
+_Gerv._ Let me come to't; I'll break it open, and you may take out
+your writings.
+
+_Limb._ That's true: 'Tis but reasonable it should be broken open.
+
+_Trick._ Then I may be bound to make good the loss.
+
+_Limb._ 'Tis unreasonable it should be broken open.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, Gervase and I will carry it away; and a smith
+shall be sent for to my daughter Pleasance's chamber, to open it
+without damage.
+
+_Limb._ Why, who says against it? Let it be carried; I'm all for
+reason.
+
+_Trick._ Hold; I say it shall not stir.
+
+_Aldo._ What? every one must have their own; _Fiat justitia, aut ruat
+mundus._
+
+_Limb._ Ay, _fiat justitia,_ Pug: She must have her own; for
+_justitia_ is Latin for justice.       [ALDO _and_ GERV. _lift at it._
+
+_Aldo._ I think the devil's in't.
+
+_Gerv._ There's somewhat bounces, like him, in't. 'Tis plaguy heavy;
+but we'll take t'other heave.
+
+_Trick._ [_Taking hold of the chest._] Then you shall carry me too.
+Help, murder, murder!               [_A confused gabbling among them._
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I think all hell's broke loose among you. What, a
+schism in my family! Does this become the purity of my house? What
+will the ungodly say?
+
+_Limb._ No matter for the ungodly; this is all among ourselves: For,
+look you, the business is this. Mrs Pleasance has sent for this same
+business here, which she lent to Pug; now Pug has some private
+businesses within this business, which she would take out first, and
+the business will not be opened: and this makes all the business.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I am raised up for a judge amongst you; and I say--
+
+_Trick._ I'll have no judge: it shall not go.
+
+_Aldo._ Why son, why daughter, why Mrs Saintly; are you all mad? Hear
+me, I am sober, I am discreet; let a smith be sent for hither, let him
+break open the chest; let the things contained be taken out, and the
+thing containing be restored.
+
+_Limb._ Now hear me too, for I am sober and discreet; father Aldo is
+an oracle: It shall be so.
+
+_Trick._ Well, to show I am reasonable, I am content. Mr Gervase and I
+will fetch an instrument from the next smith; in the mean time, let
+the chest remain where it now stands, and let every one depart the
+chamber.
+
+_Limb._ That no violence be offered to the person of the chest, in
+Pug's absence.
+
+_Aldo._ Then this matter is composed.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Now I shall have leisure to instruct his man, and
+set him free, without discovery. Come, Mr Gervase.
+                                            [_Exeunt all but_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ There is a certain motion put into my mind, and it is of
+good. I have keys here, which a precious brother, a devout blacksmith,
+made me, and which will open any lock of the same bore. Verily, it can
+be no sin to unlock this chest therewith, and take from thence the
+spoils of the ungodly. I will satisfy my conscience, by giving part
+thereof to the hungry and the needy; some to our pastor, that he may
+prove it lawful; and some I will sanctify to my own use.
+                    [_She unlocks the chest, and_ WOODALL _starts up._
+
+_Wood._ Let me embrace you, my dear deliverer! Bless us! is it you,
+Mrs Saintly?                                           [_She shrieks._
+
+_Saint._ [_Shrieking._] Heaven of his mercy! Stop thief, stop thief!
+
+_Wood._ What will become of me now?
+
+_Saint._ According to thy wickedness, shall it be done unto thee. Have
+I discovered thy backslidings, thou unfaithful man! thy treachery to
+me shall be rewarded, verily; for I will testify against thee.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, since you are so revengeful, you shall suffer your part
+of the disgrace; if you testify against me for adultery, I shall
+testify against you for theft: There's an eighth for your seventh.
+                                                             [_Noise._
+
+_Saint._ Verily, they are approaching: Return to my embraces, and it
+shall be forgiven thee.
+
+_Wood._ Thank you, for your own sake. Hark! they are coming! cry thief
+again, and help to save all yet.
+
+_Saint._ Stop thief, stop thief!
+
+_Wood._ Thank you for your own sake; but I fear 'tis too late.
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY _and_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Trick._ [_Entering._] The chest open, and Woodall discovered! I am
+ruined.
+
+_Limb._ Why all this shrieking, Mrs Saintly?
+
+_Wood._ [_Rushing him down._] Stop thief, stop thief! cry you mercy,
+gentleman, if I have hurt you.
+
+_Limb._ [_Rising._] 'Tis a fine time to cry a man mercy, when you have
+beaten his wind out of his body.
+
+_Saint._ As I watched the chest, behold a vision rushed out of it, on
+the sudden; and I lifted up my voice, and shrieked.
+
+_Limb._ A vision, landlady! what, have we Gog and Magog in our
+chamber?
+
+_Trick._ A thief, I warrant you, who had gotten into the chest.
+
+_Wood._ Most certainly a thief; for, hearing my landlady cry out, I
+flew from my chamber to her help, and met him running down stairs, and
+then he turned back to the balcony, and leapt into the street.
+
+_Limb._ I thought, indeed, that something held down the chest, when I
+would have opened it:--But my writings are there still, that's one
+comfort.--Oh seignioro, are you here?
+
+_Wood._ Do you speak to me, sir?
+
+_Saint._ This is Mr Woodall, your new fellow-lodger.
+
+_Limb._ Cry you mercy, sir; I durst have sworn you could have spoken
+_lingua Franca_--I thought, in my conscience, Pug, this had been thy
+Italian _merchanto_.
+
+_Wood._ Sir, I see you mistake me for some other: I should be happy to
+be better known to you.
+
+_Limb._ Sir, I beg your pardon, with all my _hearto_. Before George, I
+was caught again there! But you are so very like a paltry fellow, who
+came to sell Pug essences this morning, that one would swear those
+eyes, and that nose and mouth, belonged to that rascal.
+
+_Wood._ You must pardon me, sir, if I do not much relish the close of
+your compliment.
+
+_Trick._ Their eyes are nothing like:--you'll have a quarrel.
+
+_Limb._ Not very like, I confess.
+
+_Trick._ Their nose and mouth are quite different.
+
+_Limb._ As Pug says, they are quite different, indeed; but I durst
+have sworn it had been he; and, therefore, once again, I demand your
+_pardono_.
+
+_Trick._ Come, let us go down; by this time Gervase has brought the
+smith, and then Mrs Pleasance may have her chest. Please you, sir, to
+bear us company.
+
+_Wood._ At your service, madam.
+
+_Limb._ Pray lead the way, sir.
+
+_Wood._ 'Tis against my will, sir; but I must leave you in possession.
+                                                            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY _and_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ Never fear it, I'll be a spy upon his actions; he shall
+neither whisper nor gloat on either of them, but I'll ring him such a
+peal!
+
+_Saint._ Above all things, have a care of him yourself; for surely
+there is witchcraft betwixt his lips: He is a wolf within the
+sheepfold; and therefore I will be earnest, that you may not fall.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Pleas._ Why should my mother be so inquisitive about this lodger? I
+half suspect old Eve herself has a mind to be nibbling at the pippin.
+He makes love to one of them, I am confident; it may be to both; for,
+methinks, I should have done so, if I had been a man; but the damned
+petticoats have perverted me to honesty, and therefore I have a grudge
+to him for the privilege of his sex. He shuns me, too, and that vexes
+me; for, though I would deny him, I scorn he should not think me worth
+a civil question.
+
+  _Re-enter_ WOODALL, _with_ TRICKSY, MRS BRAINSICK,
+  JUDITH, _and Music._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Come, your works, your works; they shall have the
+approbation of Mrs Pleasance.
+
+_Trick._ No more apologies; give Judith the words, she sings at sight.
+
+_Jud._ I'll try my skill.
+
+        A SONG FROM THE ITALIAN.
+
+  _By a dismal cypress lying,
+  Damon cried, all pale and dying,--
+  Kind is death, that ends my pain,
+  But cruel she I loved in vain.
+  The mossy fountains
+  Murmur my trouble,
+  And hollow mountains
+  My groans redouble:
+  Every nymph mourns me,
+  Thus while I languish;
+  She only scorns me,
+  Who caused my anguish.
+  No love returning me, but all hope denying;
+  By a dismal cypress lying,
+  Like a swan, so sung he dying,--
+  Kind is death, that ends my pain,
+  But cruel she I loved in vain._
+
+_Pleas._ By these languishing eyes, and those _simagres_ of yours, we
+are given to understand, sir, you have a mistress in this company;
+come, make a free discovery which of them your poetry is to charm, and
+put the other out of pain.
+
+_Trick._ No doubt 'twas meant to Mrs Brainsick.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ We wives are despicable creatures; we know it, madam,
+when a mistress is in presence.
+
+_Pleas._ Why this ceremony betwixt you? 'Tis a likely proper fellow,
+and looks as he could people a new isle of Pines[7].
+
+_Mrs Brain._ 'Twere a work of charity to convert a fair young
+schismatick, like you, if 'twere but to gain you to a better opinion
+of the government.
+
+_Pleas._ If I am not mistaken in you, too, he has works of charity
+enough upon his hands already; but 'tis a willing soul, I'll warrant
+him, eager upon the quarry, and as sharp as a governor of
+Covent-Garden.
+
+_Wood._ Sure this is not the phrase of your family! I thought to have
+found a sanctified sister; but I suspect now, madam, that if your
+mother kept a pension in your father's time, there might be some
+gentleman-lodger in the house; for I humbly conceive you are of the
+half-strain at least.
+
+_Pleas._ For all the rudeness of your language, I am resolved to know
+upon what voyage you are bound; your privateer of love, you Argier's
+man, that cruize up and down for prize in the Straitsmouth; which of
+the vessels would you snap now?
+
+_Trick._ We are both under safe convoy, madam; a lover and a husband.
+
+_Pleas._ Nay, for your part, you are notably guarded, I confess; but
+keepers have their rooks, as well as gamesters; but they only venture
+under them till they pick up a sum, and then push for themselves.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] A plague of her suspicions; they'll ruin me on that
+side.
+
+_Pleas._ So; let but little minx go proud, and the dogs in
+Covent-Garden have her in the wind immediately; all pursue the scent.
+
+_Trick._ Not to a boarding-house, I hope?
+
+_Pleas._ If they were wise, they would rather go to a brothel-house;
+for there most mistresses have left behind them their maiden-heads, of
+blessed memory: and those, which would not go off in that market, are
+carried about by bawds, and sold at doors, like stale flesh in
+baskets. Then, for your honesty, or justness, as you call it, to your
+keepers, your kept-mistress is originally a punk; and let the cat be
+changed into a lady never so formally, she still retains her natural
+property of mousing.
+
+_Mrs. Brain._ You are very sharp upon the mistresses; but I hope
+you'll spare the wives.
+
+_Pleas._ Yes, as much as your husbands do after the first month of
+marriage; but you requite their negligence in household-duties, by
+making them husbands of the first head, ere the year be over.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] She has me there, too!
+
+_Pleas._ And as for you, young gallant--
+
+_Wood._ Hold, I beseech you! a truce for me.
+
+_Pleas._ In troth, I pity you; for you have undertaken a most
+difficult task,--to cozen two women, who are no babies in their art:
+if you bring it about, you perform as much as he that cheated the very
+lottery.
+
+_Wood._ Ladies, I am sorry this should happen to you for my sake: She
+is in a raging fit, you see; 'tis best withdrawing, till the spirit of
+prophecy has left her.
+
+_Trick._ I'll take shelter in my chamber,--whither, I hope, he'll have
+the grace to follow me.                                      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ And now I think on't, I have some letters to dispatch.
+                          [_Exit_ TRICK. _and_ MRS BRAIN. _severally._
+
+_Pleas._ Now, good John among the maids, how mean you to bestow your
+time? Away to your study, I advise you; invoke your muses, and make
+madrigals upon absence.
+
+_Wood._ I would go to China, or Japan, to be rid of that impetuous
+clack of yours. Farewell, thou legion of tongues in one woman!
+
+_Pleas._ Will you not stay, sir? it may be I have a little business
+with you.
+
+_Wood._ Yes, the second part of the same tune! Strike by yourself,
+sweet larum; you're true bell-metal I warrant you.            [_Exit._
+
+_Pleas._ This spitefulness of mine will be my ruin: To rail them off,
+was well enough; but to talk him away, too! O tongue, tongue, thou
+wert given for a curse to all our sex!
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH.
+
+_Jud._ Madam, your mother would speak with you.
+
+_Pleas._ I will not come; I'm mad, I think; I come immediately. Well,
+I'll go in, and vent my passion, by railing at them, and him too.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Jud._ You may enter in safety, sir; the enemy's marched off.
+
+  _Re-enter_ WOODALL.
+
+_Wood._ Nothing, but the love I bear thy mistress, could keep me in
+the house with such a fury. When will the bright nymph appear?
+
+_Jud._ Immediately; I hear her coming.
+
+_Wood._ That I could find her coming, Mrs Judith!
+
+  _Enter_ MRS BRAINSICK.
+
+You have made me languish in expectation, madam. Was it nothing, do
+you think, to be so near a happiness, with violent desires, and to be
+delayed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Is it nothing, do you think, for a woman of honour, to
+overcome the ties of virtue and reputation; to do that for you, which
+I thought I should never have ventured for the sake of any man?
+
+_Wood._ But my comfort is, that love has overcome. Your honour is, in
+other words, but your good repute; and 'tis my part to take care of
+that: for the fountain of a woman's honour is in the lover, as that of
+the subject is in the king.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ You had concluded well, if you had been my husband: you
+know where our subjection lies.
+
+_Wood._ But cannot I be yours without a priest? They were cunning
+people, doubtless, who began that trade; to have a double hank upon
+us, for two worlds: that no pleasure here, or hereafter, should be
+had, without a bribe to them.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Well, I'm resolved, I'll read, against the next time I
+see you; for the truth is, I am not very well prepared with arguments
+for marriage; meanwhile, farewell.
+
+_Wood._ I stand corrected; you have reason indeed to go, if I can use
+my time no better: We'll withdraw if you please, and dispute the rest
+within.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Perhaps, I meant not so.
+
+_Wood,_ I understand your meaning at your eyes. You'll watch, Judith?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, if that were all, I expect not my husband till
+to-morrow. The truth is, he is so oddly humoured, that, if I were ill
+inclined, it would half justify a woman; he's such a kind of man!
+
+_Wood._ Or, if he be not, well make him such a kind of man.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ So fantastical, so musical, his talk all rapture, and
+half nonsense: like a clock out of order, set him a-going, and he
+strikes eternally. Besides, he thinks me such a fool, that I could
+half resolve to revenge myself, in justification of my wit.
+
+_Wood._ Come, come, no half resolutions among lovers; I'll hear no
+more of him, till I have revenged you fully. Go out and watch, Judith.
+                                                       [_Exit_ JUDITH.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Yet, I could say, in my defence, that my friends married
+me to him against my will.
+
+_Wood._ Then let us put your friends, too, into the quarrel: it shall
+go hard, but I'll give you a revenge for them.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH _again, hastily._
+
+How now? what's the matter?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Can'st thou not speak? hast thou seen a ghost?--As I
+live, she signs horns! that must be for my husband: he's returned.
+                             [JUDITH _looks ghastly, and signs horns._
+
+_Jud._ I would have told you so, if I could have spoken for fear.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Hark, a knocking! What shall we do?          [_Knocking._
+There's no dallying in this case: here you must not be found, that's
+certain; but Judith hath a chamber within mine; haste quickly thither;
+I'll secure the rest.
+
+_Jud._ Follow me, sir.                      [_Exeunt_ WOODALL, JUDITH.
+
+  _Knocking again. She opens: Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What's the matter, gentlewoman? Am I excluded from my own
+fortress; and by the way of barricado? Am I to dance attendance at the
+door, as if I were some base plebeian groom? I'll have you know, that,
+when my foot assaults, the lightning and the thunder are not so
+terrible as the strokes: brazen gates shall tremble, and bolts of
+adamant dismount from off their hinges, to admit me.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Who would have thought, that 'nown dear would have come
+so soon? I was even lying down on my bed, and dreaming of him. Tum a'
+me, and buss, poor dear; piddee buss.
+
+_Brain._ I nauseate these foolish feats of love.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, but why should he be so fretful now? and knows I
+dote on him? to leave a poor dear so long without him, and then come
+home in an angry humour! indeed I'll ky.
+
+_Brain._ Pr'ythee, leave thy fulsome fondness; I have surfeited on
+conjugal embraces.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I thought so: some light huswife has bewitched him from
+me: I was a little fool, so I was, to leave a dear behind at Barnet,
+when I knew the women would run mad for him.
+
+_Brain._ I have a luscious air forming, like a Pallas, in my
+brain-pain: and now thou com'st across my fancy, to disturb the rich
+ideas, with the yellow jaundice of thy jealousy.      [_Noise within._
+Hark, what noise is that within, about Judith's bed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I believe, dear, she's making it.--Would the fool would
+go!                                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Brain._ Hark, again!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside_] I have a dismal apprehension in my head, that
+he's giving my maid a cast of his office, in my stead. O, how it
+stings me!                                         [WOODALL _sneezes._
+
+_Brain._ I'll enter, and find the reason of this tumult.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Holding him._] Not for the world: there may be a thief
+there; and should I put 'nown dear in danger of his life?--What shall
+I do? betwixt the jealousy of my love, and fear of this fool, I am
+distracted: I must not venture them together, whatever comes on it.
+[_Aside._] Why Judith, I say! come forth, damsel.
+
+_Wood_. [_Within._] The danger's over; I may come out safely.
+
+_Jud._ [_Within._] Are you mad? you shall not.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] So, now I'm ruined unavoidably.
+
+_Brain._ Whoever thou art, I have pronounced thy doom; the dreadful
+Brainsick bares his brawny arm in tearing terror; kneeling queens in
+vain should beg thy being.--Sa, sa, there.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Though I believe he dares not venture in, yet
+I must not put it to the trial. Why Judith, come out, come out,
+huswife.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH, _trembling._
+
+What villain have you hid within?
+
+_Jud._ O Lord, madam, what shall I say?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ How should I know what you should say? Mr Brainsick has
+heard a man's voice within; if you know what he makes there, confess
+the truth; I am almost dead with fear, and he stands shaking.
+
+_Brain._ Terror, I! 'tis indignation shakes me. With this sabre I'll
+slice him as small as atoms; he shall be doomed by the judge, and
+damned upon the gibbet.
+
+_Jud._ [_Kneeling._] My master's so outrageous! sweet madam, do you
+intercede for me, and I'll tell you all in private.       [_Whispers._
+If I say it is a thief, he'll call up help; I know not what of the
+sudden to invent.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Let me alone.--And is this all? Why would you not confess
+it before, Judith? when you know I am an indulgent mistress.
+                                                            [_Laughs._
+
+_Brain._ What has she confessed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ A venial love-trespass, dear: 'tis a sweetheart of hers;
+one that is to marry her; and she was unwilling I should know it, so
+she hid him in her chamber.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ What's the matter trow? what, in martial posture, son
+Brainsick?
+
+_Jud._ Pray, father Aldo, do you beg my pardon of my master. I have
+committed a fault; I have hidden a gentleman in my chamber, who is to
+marry me without his friends' consent, and therefore came in private
+to me.
+
+_Aldo._ That thou should'st think to keep this secret! why, I know it
+as well as he that made thee.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Heaven be praised, for this knower of all
+things! Now will he lie three or four rapping volunteers, rather than
+be thought ignorant in any thing.
+
+_Brain._ Do you know his friends, father Aldo?
+
+_Aldo._ Know them! I think I do. His mother was an arch-deacon's
+daughter; as honest a woman as ever broke bread: she and I have been
+cater-cousins in our youth; we have tumbled together between a pair of
+sheets, i'faith.
+
+_Brain._ An honest woman, and yet you two have tumbled together! those
+are inconsistent.
+
+_Aldo._ No matter for that.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ He blunders; I must help him. [_Aside._] I warrant 'twas
+before marriage, that you were so great.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, and so it was: for she had the prettiest black
+mole upon her left ancle, it does me good to think on't! His father
+was squire What-d'ye-call-him, of what-d'ye-call-em shire. What think
+you, little Judith? do I know him now?
+
+_Jud._ I suppose you may be mistaken: my servant's father is a knight
+of Hampshire.
+
+_Aldo._ I meant of Hampshire. But that I should forget he was a
+knight, when I got him knighted, at the king's coming in! Two fat
+bucks, I am sure he sent me.
+
+_Brain._ And what's his name?
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, for that, you must excuse me; I must not disclose little
+Judith's secrets.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ All this while the poor gentleman is left in pain: we
+must let him out in secret; for I believe the young fellow is so
+bashful, he would not willingly be seen.
+
+_Jud._ The best way will be, for father Aldo to lend me the key of his
+door, which opens into my chamber; and so I can convey him out.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Giving her a key._] Do so, daughter. Not a word of my
+familiarity with his mother, to prevent bloodshed betwixt us: but I
+have her name down in my almanack, I warrant her.
+
+_Jud._ What, kiss and tell, father Aldo? kiss and tell!       [_Exit._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I'll go and pass an hour with Mrs Tricksy.       [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Brain._ What, the lusty lover Limberham!
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL, _at another door._
+
+_Aldo._ O here's a monsieur, new come over, and a fellow-lodger; I
+must endear you two to one another.
+
+_Brain._ Sir, 'tis my extreme ambition to be better known to you; you
+come out of the country I adore. And how does the dear Battist[8]? I
+long for some of his new compositions in the last opera. _A propos!_ I
+have had the most happy invention this morning, and a tune trouling in
+my head; I rise immediately in my night-gown and slippers, down I put
+the notes slap-dash, made words to them like lightning; and I warrant
+you have them at the circle in the evening.
+
+_Wood._ All were complete, sir, if S. Andre would make steps to them.
+
+_Brain._ Nay, thanks to my genius, that care's over: you shall see,
+you shall see. But first the air. [_Sings._] Is it not very fine? Ha,
+messieurs!
+
+_Limb._ The close of it is the most ravishing I ever heard!
+
+_Brain._ I dwell not on your commendations. What say you, sir? [_To_
+WOOD.] Is it not admirable? Do you enter into it?
+
+_Wood._ Most delicate cadence!
+
+_Brain._ Gad, I think so, without vanity. Battist and I have but one
+soul. But the close, the close! [_Sings it thrice over._] I have words
+too upon the air; but I am naturally so bashful!
+
+_Wood._ Will you oblige me, sir?
+
+_Brain._ You might command me, sir; for I sing too _en cavalier:_
+but--
+
+_Limb._ But you would be entreated, and say, _Nolo, nolo, nolo,_ three
+times, like any bishop, when your mouth waters at the diocese.
+
+_Brain._ I have no voice; but since this gentleman commands me, let
+the words commend themselves.                                [_Sings._
+  _My Phillis is charming--_
+
+_Limb._ But why, of all names, would you chuse a Phillis? There have
+been so many Phillises in songs, I thought there had not been another
+left, for love or money.
+
+_Brain._ If a man should listen to a fop!                    [_Sings._
+  _My Phillis--_
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I am on t'other side: I think, as good no song,
+as no Phillis.
+
+_Brain._ Yet again!--_My Phillis--_                          [_Sings._
+
+_Limb._ Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.
+
+_Brain._ [_Looking scornfully at him._] _My Phillis--_       [_Sings._
+
+_Limb._ You had as good call her your Succuba.
+
+_Brain._ _Morbleu!_ will you not give me leave? I am full of Phillis.
+[_Sings._] _My Phillis--_
+
+_Limb._ Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty name.
+
+_Brain._ _Diable!_ Now I will not sing, to spite you. By the world,
+you are not worthy of it. Well, I have a gentleman's fortune; I have
+courage, and make no inconsiderable figure in the world: yet I would
+quit my pretensions to all these, rather than not be author of this
+sonnet, which your rudeness has irrevocably lost.
+
+_Limb._ Some foolish French _quelque chose_, I warrant you.
+
+_Brain._ _Quelque chose!_ O ignorance, in supreme perfection! he means
+a _kek shose_[9].
+
+_Limb._ Why a _kek shoes_ let it be then! and a _kek shoes_ for your
+song.
+
+_Brain._ I give to the devil such a judge. Well, were I to be born
+again, I would as soon be the elephant, as a wit; he's less a monster
+in this age of malice. I could burn my sonnet, out of rage.
+
+_Limb._ You may use your pleasure with your own.
+
+_Wood._ His friends would not suffer him: Virgil was not permitted to
+burn his Æneids.
+
+_Brain._ Dear sir, I'll not die ungrateful for your approbation.
+[_Aside to_ WOOD.] You see this fellow? he is an ass already; he has a
+handsome mistress, and you shall make an ox of him ere long.
+
+_Wood._ Say no more, it shall be done.
+
+_Limb._ Hark you, Mr Woodall; this fool Brainsick grows insupportable;
+he's a public nuisance; but I scorn to set my wit against him: he has
+a pretty wife: I say no more; but if you do not graff him--
+
+_Wood._ A word to the wise: I shall consider him, for your sake.
+
+_Limb._ Pray do, sir: consider him much.
+
+_Wood._ Much is the word.--This feud makes well for me.      [_Aside._
+
+_Brain._ [_To_ WOOD.] I'll give you the opportunity, and rid you of
+him.--Come away, little Limberham; you, and I, and father Aldo, will
+take a turn together in the square.
+
+_Aldo._ We will follow you immediately.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, we will come after you, bully Brainsick: but I hope you
+will not draw upon us there.
+
+_Brain._ If you fear that, Bilbo shall be left behind.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, nay, leave but your madrigal behind: draw not that upon
+us, and it is no matter for your sword.                 [_Exit_ BRAIN.
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _and_ MRS BRAINSICK, _with a note for each._
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Both together! either of them, apart, had been my
+business: but I shall never play well at this three-hand game.
+
+_Limb._ O Pug, how have you been passing your time?
+
+_Trick._ I have been looking over the last present of orange gloves
+you made me; and methinks I do not like the scent.--O Lord, Mr
+Woodall, did you bring those you wear from Paris?
+
+_Wood._ Mine are Roman, madam.
+
+_Trick._ The scent I love, of all the world. Pray let me see them.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, not both, good Mrs Tricksy; for I love that scent as
+well as you.
+
+_Wood._ [_Pulling them off, and giving each one._] I shall find two
+dozen more of women's gloves among my trifles, if you please to accept
+them, ladies.
+
+_Trick._ Look to it; we shall expect them.--Now to put in my
+_billet-doux!_
+
+_Mrs Brain._ So, now, I have the opportunity to thrust in my note.
+
+_Trick._ Here, sir, take your glove again; the perfume's too strong
+for me.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Pray take the other to it; though I should have kept it
+for a pawn.    [Mrs BRAINSICK'S _note falls out,_ LIMB. _takes it up._
+
+_Limb._ What have we here? [_Reads._] for Mr Woodall!
+
+_Both Women._ Hold, hold, Mr Limberham!             [_They snatch it._
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you shall read it.
+
+_Wood._ By your favour, sir, but he must not.
+
+_Trick._ He'll know my hand, and I am ruined!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Oh, my misfortune! Mr Woodall, will you suffer your
+secrets to be discovered!
+
+_Wood._ It belongs to one of them, that's certain.--Mr Limberham, I
+must desire you to restore this letter; it is from my mistress.
+
+_Trick._ The devil's in him; will he confess?
+
+_Wood._ This paper was sent me from her this morning; and I was so
+fond of it, that I left it in my glove: If one of the ladies had found
+it there, I should have been laughed at most unmercifully.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ That's well come off!
+
+_Limb._ My heart was at my mouth, for fear it had been Pug's.
+[_Aside._]--There 'tis again--Hold, hold; pray let me see it once
+more: a mistress, said you?
+
+_Aldo._ Yes, a mistress, sir. I'll be his voucher, he has a mistress,
+and a fair one too.
+
+_Limb._ Do you know it, father Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ Know it! I know the match is as good as made already: old
+Woodall and I are all one. You, son, were sent for over on purpose;
+the articles for her jointure are all concluded, and a friend of mine
+drew them.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if father Aldo knows it, I am satisfied.
+
+_Aldo._ But how came you by this letter, son Woodall? let me examine
+you.
+
+_Wood._ Came by it! (pox, he has _non-plus'd_ me!) How do you say I
+came by it, father Aldo?
+
+_Aldo._ Why, there's it, now. This morning I met your mistress's
+father, Mr you know who--
+
+_Wood._ Mr who, sir?
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, you shall excuse me for that; but we are intimate: his
+name begins with some vowel or consonant, no matter which: Well, her
+father gave me this very numerical letter, subscribed, for Mr.
+Woodall.
+
+_Limb._ Before George, and so it is.
+
+_Aldo._ Carry me this letter, quoth he, to your son Woodall; 'tis from
+my daughter such a one, and then whispered me her name.
+
+_Wood._ Let me see; I'll read it once again.
+
+_Limb._ What, are you not acquainted with the contents of it?
+
+_Wood._ O, your true lover will read you over a letter from his
+mistress, a thousand times.
+
+_Trick._ Ay, two thousand, if he be in the humour.
+
+_Wood._ Two thousand! then it must be hers. [_Reads to himself._]
+"Away to your chamber immediately, and I'll give my fool the
+slip."--The fool! that may be either the keeper, or the husband; but
+commonly the keeper is the greater. Humh! without subscription! it
+must be Tricksy.--Father Aldo, pr'ythee rid me of this coxcomb.
+
+_Aldo._ Come, son Limberham, we let our friend Brainsick walk too long
+alone: Shall we follow him? we must make haste; for I expect a whole
+bevy of whores, a chamber-full of temptation this afternoon: 'tis my
+day of audience.
+
+_Limb._ Mr Woodall, we leave you here--you remember?
+                                           [_Exeunt_ LIMB. _and_ ALDO.
+
+_Wood._ Let me alone.--Ladies, your servant; I have a little private
+business with a friend of mine.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Meaning me.--Well, sir, your servant.
+
+_Trick._ Your servant, till we meet again.        [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Mr_ WOODALL'S _Chamber._
+
+  _Mrs_ BRAINSICK _alone._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My note has taken, as I wished: he will be here
+immediately. If I could but resolve to lose no time, out of modesty;
+but it is his part to be violent, for both our credits. Never so
+little force and ruffling, and a poor weak woman is excused.
+[_Noise._] Hark, I hear him coming.--Ah me! the steps beat double: He
+comes not alone. If it should be my husband with him! where shall I
+hide myself? I see no other place, but under his bed: I must lie as
+silently as my fear will suffer me. Heaven send me safe again to my
+own chamber!                                  [_Creeps under the Bed._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Well, fortune at the last is favourable, and now you are my
+prisoner.
+
+_Trick._ After a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I shall have my
+liberty upon easy terms. But pray let us parley a little first.
+
+_Wood._ Let it be upon the bed then. Please you to sit?
+
+_Trick._ No matter where; I am never the nearer to your wicked
+purpose. But you men are commonly great comedians in love-matters;
+therefore you must swear, in the first place--
+
+_Wood._ Nay, no conditions: The fortress is reduced to extremity; and
+you must yield upon discretion, or I storm.
+
+_Trick._ Never to love any other woman.
+
+_Wood._ I kiss the book upon it. [_Kisses her. Mrs_ BRAIN. _pinches
+him from underneath the Bed._] Oh, are you at your love-tricks
+already? If you pinch me thus, I shall bite your lip.
+
+_Trick._ I did not pinch you: But you are apt, I see, to take any
+occasion of gathering up more close to me.--Next, you shall not so
+much as look on Mrs Brainsick.
+
+_Wood._ Have you done? these covenants are so tedious!
+
+_Trick._ Nay, but swear then.
+
+_Wood._ I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing. [_Mrs_ BRAIN. _runs
+a pin into him._] Oh, the devil! what do you mean to run pins into me?
+this is perfect caterwauling.
+
+_Trick._ You fancy all this; I would not hurt you for the world. Come,
+you shall see how well I love you. [_Kisses him: Mrs_ BRAIN. _pricks
+her._] Oh! I think you have needles growing in your bed.
+                                                      [_Both rise up._
+
+_Wood._ I will see what is the matter in it.
+
+_Saint._ [_Within._] Mr Woodall, where are you, verily?
+
+_Wood._ Pox verily her! it is my landlady: Here, hide yourself behind
+the curtains, while I run to the door, to stop her entry.
+
+_Trick._ Necessity has no law; I must be patient.
+             [_She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ In sadness, gentleman, I can hold no longer: I will not keep
+your wicked counsel, how you were locked up in the chest; for it lies
+heavy upon my conscience, and out it must, and shall.
+
+_Wood._ You may tell, but who will believe you? where's your witness?
+
+_Saint._ Verily, heaven is my witness.
+
+_Wood._ That's your witness too, that you would have allured me to
+lewdness, have seduced a hopeful young man, as I am; you would have
+enticed youth: Mark that, beldam.
+
+_Saint._ I care not; my single evidence is enough to Mr Limberham; he
+will believe me, that thou burnest in unlawful lust to his beloved: So
+thou shalt be an outcast from my family.
+
+_Wood._ Then will I go to the elders of thy church, and lay thee open
+before them, that thou didst feloniously unlock that chest, with
+wicked intentions of purloining: So thou shalt be excommunicated from
+the congregation, thou Jezebel, and delivered over to Satan.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, our teacher will not excommunicate me, for taking the
+spoils of the ungodly, to clothe him; for it is a judged case amongst
+us, that a married woman may steal from her husband, to relieve a
+brother. But yet them mayest atone this difference betwixt us; verily,
+thou mayest.
+
+_Wood._ Now thou art tempting me again. Well, if I had not the gift of
+continency, what might become of me?
+
+_Saint._ The means have been offered thee, and thou hast kicked with
+the heel. I will go immediately to the tabernacle of Mr Limberham, and
+discover thee, O thou serpent, in thy crooked paths.         [_Going._
+
+_Wood._ Hold, good landlady, not so fast; let me have time to consider
+on't; I may mollify, for flesh is frail. An hour or two hence we will
+confer together upon the premises.
+
+_Saint._ Oh, on the sudden, I feel myself exceeding sick! Oh! oh!
+
+_Wood._ Get you quickly to your closet, and fall to your _mirabilis_;
+this is no place for sick people. Begone, begone!
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I can go no farther.
+
+_Wood._ But you shall, verily. I will thrust you down, out of pure
+pity.
+
+_Saint._ Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops, and my back acheth!
+here I will lay me down, and rest me.
+                         [_Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed;_
+                          TRICKSY _shrieks, and rises; Mrs_ BRAIN.
+                          _rises from under the Bed in a fright._
+
+_Wood._ So! here's a fine business! my whole seraglio up in arms!
+
+_Saint._ So, so; if Providence had not sent me hither, what folly had
+been this day committed!
+
+_Trick._ Oh the old woman in the oven! we both overheard your pious
+documents: Did we not, Mrs Brainsick?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Yes, we did overhear her; and we will both testify
+against her.
+
+_Wood._ I have nothing to say for her. Nay, I told her her own; you
+can both bear me witness. If a sober man cannot be quiet in his own
+chamber for her--
+
+_Trick._ For, you know, sir, when Mrs Brainsick and I over-heard her
+coming, having been before acquainted with her wicked purpose, we both
+agreed to trap her in it.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ And now she would 'scape herself, by accusing us! but let
+us both conclude to cast an infamy upon her house, and leave it.
+
+_Saint._ Sweet Mr Woodall, intercede for me, or I shall be ruined.
+
+_Wood._ Well, for once I'll be good-natured, and try my interest.--
+Pray, ladies, for my sake, let this business go no farther.
+
+_Trick. and Mrs Brain._ You may command us.
+
+_Wood._ For, look you, the offence was properly to my person; and
+charity has taught me to forgive my enemies. I hope, Mrs Saintly, this
+will be a warning to you, to amend your life: I speak like a
+Christian, as one that tenders the welfare of your soul.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I will consider.
+
+_Wood._ Why, that is well said.--[_Aside._] Gad, and so must I too;
+for my people is dissatisfied, and my government in danger: But this
+is no place for meditation.--Ladies, I wait on you.         [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO _and_ GEOFFERY.
+
+_Aldo._ Despatch, Geoffery, despatch: The outlying punks will be upon
+us, ere I am in a readiness to give audience. Is the office well
+provided?
+
+_Geoff._ The stores are very low, sir: Some dolly petticoats, and
+manteaus we have; and half a dozen pair of laced shoes, bought from
+court at second hand.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, there is not enough to rig out a mournival of
+whores: They'll think me grown a mere curmudgeon. Mercy on me, how
+will this glorious trade be carried on, with such a miserable stock!
+
+_Geoff._ I hear a coach already stopping at the door.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, somewhat in ornament for the body, somewhat in counsel
+for the mind; one thing must help out another, in this bad world:
+Whoring must go on.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ OVERDON, _and her Daughter_ PRUE.
+
+_Mrs Over._ Ask blessing, Prue: He is the best father you ever had.
+
+_Aldo._ Bless thee, and make thee a substantial, thriving whore. Have
+your mother in your eye, Prue; it is good to follow good example. How
+old are you, Prue? Hold up your head, child.
+
+_Pru._ Going o'my sixteen, father Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ And you have been initiated but these two years: Loss of time,
+loss of precious time! Mrs Overdon, how much have you made of Prue,
+since she has been man's meat?
+
+_Mrs Over._ A very small matter, by my troth; considering the charges
+I have been at in her education: Poor Prue was born under an unlucky
+planet; I despair of a coach for her. Her first maiden-head brought me
+in but little, the weather-beaten old knight, that bought her of me,
+beat down the price so low. I held her at an hundred guineas, and he
+bid ten; and higher than thirty would not rise.
+
+_Aldo._ A pox of his unlucky handsel! He can but fumble, and will not
+pay neither.
+
+_Pru._ Hang him; I could never endure him, father: He is the filthiest
+old goat; and then he comes every day to our house, and eats out his
+thirty guineas; and at three months end, he threw me off.
+
+_Mrs Over._ And since then, the poor child has dwindled, and dwindled
+away. Her next maiden-head brought me but ten; and from ten she fell
+to five; and at last to a single guinea: She has no luck to keeping;
+they all leave her, the more my sorrow.
+
+_Aldo._ We must get her a husband then in the city; they bite rarely
+at a stale whore at this end of the town, new furbished up in a tawdry
+manteau.
+
+_Mrs Over._ No: Pray let her try her fortune a little longer in the
+world first: By my troth, I should be loth to be at all this cost, in
+her French, and her singing, to have her thrown away upon a husband.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, there can come no good of your swearing, Mrs
+Overdon: Say your prayers, Prue, and go duly to church o'Sundays,
+you'll thrive the better all the week. Come, have a good heart, child;
+I will keep thee myself: Thou shalt do my little business; and I'll
+find thee an able young fellow to do thine.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ PAD.
+
+Daughter Pad, you are welcome: What, you have performed the last
+Christian office to your keeper; I saw you follow him up the heavy
+hill to Tyburn. Have you had never a business since his death?
+
+_Mrs Pad._ No indeed, father; never since execution-day. The night
+before, we lay together most lovingly in Newgate; and the next morning
+he lift up his eyes, and prepared his soul with a prayer, while one
+might tell twenty; and then mounted the cart as merrily, as if he had
+been going for a purse.
+
+_Aldo._ You are a sorrowful widow, daughter Pad; but I'll take care of
+you.--Geoffery, see her rigged out immediately for a new voyage: Look
+in figure 9, in the upper drawer, and give her out the flowered
+justacorps, with the petticoat belonging to it.
+
+_Mrs Pad._ Could you not help to prefer me, father?
+
+_Aldo._ Let me see--let me see:--Before George, I have it, and it
+comes as pat too! Go me to the very judge that sate upon him; it is an
+amorous, impotent old magistrate, and keeps admirably. I saw him leer
+upon you from the bench: He will tell you what is sweeter than
+strawberries and cream, before you part.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ TERMAGANT.
+
+_Mrs Term._ O father, I think I shall go mad.
+
+_Aldo._ You are of the violentest temper, daughter Termagant! When had
+you a business last?
+
+_Mrs Term._ The last I had was with young Caster, that son-of-a-whore
+gamester: he brought me to taverns, to draw in young cullies, while he
+bubbled them at play; and, when he had picked up a considerable sum,
+and should divide, the cheating dog would sink my share, and
+swear,--Damn him, he won nothing.
+
+_Aldo._ Unconscionable villain, to cozen you in your own calling!
+
+_Mrs Term._ When he loses upon the square, he comes home zoundsing and
+blooding; first beats me unmercifully, and then squeezes me to the
+last penny. He has used me so, that, Gad forgive me, I could almost
+forswear my trade. The rogue starves me too: He made me keep Lent last
+year till Whitsuntide, and out-faced me with oaths it was but Easter.
+And what mads me most, I carry a bastard of the rogue's in my belly;
+and now he turns me off, and will not own it.
+
+_Mrs Over._ Lord, how it quops! you are half a year gone, madam.--
+                                      [_Laying her hand on her belly._
+
+_Mrs Term._ I feel the young rascal kicking already, like his
+father.--Oh, there is an elbow thrusting out: I think, in my
+conscience, he is palming and topping in my belly; and practising for
+a livelihood, before he comes into the world.
+
+_Aldo._ Geoffery, set her down in the register, that I may provide her
+a mid-wife, and a dry and wet nurse: When you are up again, as heaven
+send you a good hour, we will pay him off at law, i'faith. You have
+him under black and white, I hope?
+
+_Mrs Term._ Yes, I have a note under his hand for two hundred pounds.
+
+_Aldo._ A note under his hand! that is a chip in porridge; it is just
+nothing.--Look, Geoffery, to the figure 12, for old half-shirts for
+childbed linen.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ HACKNEY.
+
+_Hack._ O, madam Termagant, are you here? Justice, father Aldo,
+justice!
+
+_Aldo._ Why, what is the matter, daughter Hackney?
+
+_Hack._ She has violated the law of nations; for yesterday she
+inveigled my own natural cully from me, a married lord, and made him
+false to my bed, father.
+
+_Term._ Come, you are an illiterate whore. He is my lord now; and,
+though you call him fool, it is well known he is a critic,
+gentlewoman. You never read a play in all your life; and I gained him
+by my wit, and so I'll keep him.
+
+_Hack._ My comfort is, I have had the best of him; he can take up no
+more, till his father dies: And so, much good may do you with my
+cully, and my clap into the bargain.
+
+_Aldo._ Then there is a father for your child, my lord's son and heir
+by Mr Caster. But henceforward, to preserve peace betwixt you, I
+ordain, that you shall ply no more in my daughter Hackney's quarters:
+You shall have the city, from White-Chapel to Temple-Bar, and she
+shall have to Covent-Garden downwards: At the play-houses, she shall
+ply the boxes, because she has the better face; and you shall have the
+pit, because you can prattle best out of a vizor mask.
+
+_Mrs Pad._ Then all friends, and confederates. Now let us have father
+Aldo's delight, and so adjourn the house.
+
+_Aldo._ Well said, daughter.--Lift up your voices, and sing like
+nightingales, you tory rory jades. Courage, I say; as long as the
+merry pence hold out, you shall none of you die in Shoreditch.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL.
+
+A hey, boys, a hey! here he comes, that will swinge you all! down, you
+little jades, and worship him; it is the genius of whoring.
+
+_Wood._ And down went chairs and table, and out went every candle. Ho,
+brave old patriarch in the middle of the church militant! whores of
+all sorts; forkers and ruin-tailed: Now come I gingling in with my
+bells, and fly at the whole covey.
+
+_Aldo._ A hey, a hey, boys! the town's thy own; burn, ravish, and
+destroy!
+
+_Wood._ We will have a night of it, like Alexander, when he burnt
+Persepolis: _tuez, tuez, tuez! point de quartier._
+          [_He runs in amongst them, and they scuttle about the room._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY, PLEASANCE, JUDITH, _with Broom-sticks._
+
+_Saint._ What, in the midst of Sodom! O thou lewd young man! my
+indignation boils over against these harlots; and thus I sweep them
+from out my family.
+
+_Pleas._ Down with the Suburbians, down with them.
+
+_Aldo._ O spare my daughters, Mrs Saintly! Sweet Mrs Pleasance, spare
+my flesh and blood!
+
+_Wood._ Keep the door open, and help to secure the retreat, father:
+There is no pity to be expected.    [_The Whores run out, followed by_
+                                     SAINTLY, PLEASANCE, _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Aldo._ Welladay, welladay! one of my daughters is big with bastard,
+and she laid at her gascoins most unmercifully! every stripe she had,
+I felt it: The first fruit of whoredom is irrecoverably lost!
+
+_Wood._ Make haste, and comfort her.
+
+_Aldo._ I will, I will; and yet I have a vexatious business, which
+calls me first another way. The rogue, my son, is certainly come over;
+he has been seen in town four days ago.
+
+_Wood._ It is impossible: I'll not believe it.
+
+_Aldo._ A friend of mine met his old man, Giles, this very morning, in
+quest of me; and Giles assured him, his master is lodged in this very
+street.
+
+_Wood._ In this very street! how knows he that?
+
+_Aldo._ He dogged him to the corner of it; and then my son turned
+back, and threatened him. But I'll find out Giles, and then I'll make
+such an example of my reprobate!                              [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ If Giles be discovered, I am undone!--Why, Gervase, where are
+you, sirrah! Hey, hey!
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE.
+
+Run quickly to that betraying rascal Giles, a rogue, who would take
+Judas's bargain out of his hands, and undersell him. Command him
+strictly to mew himself up in his lodgings, till farther orders: and
+in case he be refractory, let him know, I have not forgot to kick and
+cudgel. That _memento_ would do well for you too, sirrah.
+
+_Gerv._ Thank your worship; you have always been liberal of your hands
+to me.
+
+_Wood._ And you have richly deserved it.
+
+_Gerv._ I will not say, who has better deserved it of my old master.
+
+_Wood._ Away, old Epictetus, about your business, and leave your musty
+morals, or I shall--
+
+_Gerv._ Nay, I won't forfeit my own wisdom so far as to suffer for it.
+Rest you merry: I'll do my best, and heaven mend all.         [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I have waited till you were alone, and am come to
+rebuke you, out of the zeal of my spirit.
+
+_Wood._ It is the spirit of persecution. Dioclesian, and Julian the
+apostate, were but types of thee. Get thee hence, thou old Geneva
+testament: thou art a part of the ceremonial law, and hast been
+abolished these twenty years.
+
+_Saint._ All this is nothing, sir. I am privy to your plots: I'll
+discover them to Mr Limberham, and make the house too hot for you.
+
+_Wood._ What, you can talk in the language of the world, I see!
+
+_Saint._ I can, I can, sir; and in the language of the flesh and devil
+too, if you provoke me to despair: You must, and shall be mine, this
+night.
+
+_Wood._ The very ghost of queen Dido in the ballad.[10]
+
+_Saint._ Delay no longer, or--
+
+_Wood._ Or! you will not swear, I hope?
+
+_Saint._ Uds-niggers but I will; and that so loud, that Mr Limberham
+shall hear me.
+
+_Wood._ Uds-niggers, I confess, is a very dreadful oath. You could lie
+naturally before, as you are a fanatic; if you can swear such rappers
+too, there is hope of you; you may be a woman of the world in time.
+Well, you shall be satisfied, to the utmost farthing, to-night, and in
+your own chamber.
+
+_Saint._ Or, expect to-morrow--
+
+_Wood._ All shall be atoned ere then. Go, provide the bottle of clary,
+the Westphalia ham, and other fortifications of nature; we shall see
+what may be done. What! an old woman must not be cast away.
+                                                        [_Chucks her._
+
+_Saint._ Then, verily, I am appeased.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, no relapsing into verily; that is in our bargain. Look
+how she weeps for joy! It is a good old soul, I warrant her.
+
+_Saint._ You will not fail?
+
+_Wood._ Dost thou think I have no compassion for thy gray hairs? Away,
+away; our love may be discovered: We must avoid scandal; it is thy own
+maxim.                                                [_Exit_ SAINTLY.
+They are all now at ombre; and Brainsick's maid has promised to send
+her mistress up.
+
+  _Enter_ PLEASANCE.
+
+That fury here again!
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I'll conquer my proud spirit, I am resolved on it,
+and speak kindly to him.--What, alone, sir! If my company be not
+troublesome; or a tender young creature, as I am, may safely trust
+herself with a man of such prowess, in love affairs--It wonnot be.
+
+_Wood._ So! there is one broadside already: I must sheer off.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Pleas._ What, you have been pricking up and down here upon a cold
+scent[11]; but, at last, you have hit it off, it seems! Now for a fair
+view at the wife or mistress: up the wind, and away with it: Hey,
+Jowler!--I think I am bewitched, I cannot hold.
+
+_Wood._ Your servant, your servant, madam: I am in a little haste at
+present.                                                     [_Going._
+
+_Pleas._ Pray resolve me first, for which of them you lie in ambush;
+for, methinks, you have the mien of a spider in her den. Come, I know
+the web is spread, and whoever comes, Sir Cranion stands ready to dart
+out, hale her in, and shed his venom.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] But such a terrible wasp, as she, will spoil the
+snare, if I durst tell her so.
+
+_Pleas._ It is unconscionably done of me, to debar you the freedom and
+civilities of the house. Alas, poor gentleman! to take a lodging at so
+dear a rate, and not to have the benefit of his bargain!--Mischief on
+me, what needed I have said that?                            [_Aside._
+
+_Wood._ The dialogue will go no farther. Farewell, gentle, quiet lady.
+
+_Pleas._ Pray stay a little; I'll not leave you thus.
+
+_Wood._ I know it; and therefore mean to leave you first.
+
+_Pleas._ O, I find it now! you are going to set up your bills, like a
+love-mountebank, for the speedy cure of distressed widows, old ladies,
+and languishing maids in the green-sickness: a sovereign remedy.
+
+_Wood._ That last, for maids, would be thrown away: Few of your age
+are qualified for the medicine. What the devil would you be at, madam?
+
+_Pleas._ I am in the humour of giving you good counsel. The wife can
+afford you but the leavings of a fop; and to a witty man, as you think
+yourself, that is nauseous: The mistress has fed upon a fool so long,
+she is carrion too, and common into the bargain. Would you beat a
+ground for game in the afternoon, when my lord mayor's pack had been
+before you in the morning?
+
+_Wood._ I had rather sit five hours at one of his greasy feasts, then
+hear you talk.
+
+_Pleas._ Your two mistresses keep both shop and warehouse; and what
+they cannot put off in gross, to the keeper and the husband, they sell
+by retail to the next chance-customer. Come, are you edified?
+
+_Wood._ I am considering how to thank you for your homily; and, to
+make a sober application of it, you may have some laudable design
+yourself in this advice.
+
+_Pleas._ Meaning, some secret inclination to that amiable person of
+yours?
+
+_Wood._ I confess, I am vain enough to hope it; for why should you
+remove the two dishes, but to make me fall more hungrily on the third?
+
+_Pleas._ Perhaps, indeed, in the way of honour--
+
+_Wood._ Paw, paw! that word honour has almost turned my stomach: it
+carries a villainous interpretation of matrimony along with it. But,
+in a civil way, I could be content to deal with you, as the church
+does with the heads of your fanatics, offer you a lusty benefice to
+stop your mouth; if fifty guineas, and a courtesy more worth, will win
+you.
+
+_Pleas._ Out upon thee! fifty guineas! Dost thou think I'll sell
+myself? And at a playhouse price too? Whenever I go, I go all
+together: No cutting from the whole piece; he who has me shall have
+the fag-end with the rest, I warrant him. Be satisfied, thy sheers
+shall never enter into my cloth. But, look to thyself, thou impudent
+belswagger: I will he revenged; I will.                       [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ The maid will give warning, that is my comfort; for she is
+bribed on my side. I have another kind of love to this girl, than to
+either of the other two; but a fanatic's daughter, and the noose of
+matrimony, are such intolerable terms! O, here she comes, who will
+sell me better cheap.
+
+
+SCENE _opens to_ BRAINSICK'S _Apartment._
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ How now, sir? what impudence is this of yours, to
+approach my lodgings?
+
+_Wood._ You lately honoured mine; and it is the part of a well-bred
+man, to return your visit.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ If I could have imagined how base a fellow you had been,
+you should not then have been troubled with my company.
+
+_Wood._ How could I guess, that you intended me the favour, without
+first acquainting me?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Could I do it, ungrateful as you are, with more
+obligation to you, or more hazard to myself, than by putting my note
+into your glove?
+
+_Wood._ Was it yours, then? I believed it came from Mrs Tricksy.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ You wished it so; which made you so easily believe it. I
+heard the pleasant dialogue betwixt you.
+
+_Wood._ I am glad you did; for you could not but observe, with how
+much care I avoided all occasions of railing at you; to which she
+urged me, like a malicious woman, as she was.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ By the same token, you vowed and swore never to look on
+Mrs Brainsick!
+
+_Wood._ But I had my mental reservations in a readiness. I had vowed
+fidelity to you before; and there went my second oath, i'faith: it
+vanished in a twinkling, and never gnawed my conscience in the least.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Well, I shall never heartily forgive you.
+
+_Jud._ [_Within._] Mr Brainsick, Mr Brainsick, what do you mean, to
+make my lady lose her game thus? Pray, come back, and take up her
+cards again.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My husband, as I live! Well, for all my quarrel to you,
+step immediately into that little dark closet: it is for my private
+occasions; there is no lock, but he will not stay.
+
+_Wood._ Thus am I ever tantalized!                         [_Goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What, am I become your drudge? your slave? the property of
+all your pleasures? Shall I, the lord and master of your life, become
+subservient; and the noble name of husband be dishonoured? No, though
+all the cards were kings and queens, and Indies to be gained by every
+deal--
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My dear, I am coming to do my duty. I did but go up a
+little, (I whispered you for what) and am returning immediately.
+
+_Brain._ Your sex is but one universal ordure, a nuisance, and
+incumbrance of that majestic creature, man: yet I myself am mortal
+too. Nature's necessities have called me up; produce your utensil of
+urine.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ It is not in the way, child: You may go down into the
+garden.
+
+_Brain._ The voyage is too far: though the way were paved with pearls
+and diamonds, every step of mine is precious, as the march of
+monarchs.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Then my steps, which are not so precious, shall be
+employed for you: I will call up Judith.
+
+_Brain._ I will not dance attendance. At the present, your closet
+shall be honoured.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ O lord, dear, it is not worthy to receive such a man as
+you are.
+
+_Brain._ Nature presses; I am in haste.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ He must be discovered, and I unavoidably undone!
+                                                             [_Aside._
+                            [BRAINSICK _goes to the door, and_ WOODALL
+                             _meets him: She shrieks out._
+
+_Brain._ Monsieur Woodall!
+
+_Wood._ Sir, begone, and make no noise, or you will spoil all.
+
+_Brain._ Spoil all, quotha! what does he mean, in the name of wonder?
+
+_Wood._ [_Taking him aside._] Hark you, Mr Brainsick, is the devil in
+you, that you and your wife come hither, to disturb my intrigue, which
+you yourself engaged me in, with Mrs Tricksy, to revenge you on
+Limberham? Why, I had made an appointment with her here; but, hearing
+somebody come up, I retired into the closet, till I was satisfied it
+was not the keeper.
+
+_Brain._ But why this intrigue in my wife's chamber?
+
+_Wood._ Why, you turn my brains, with talking to me of your wife's
+chamber! do you lie in common? the wife and husband, the keeper and
+the mistress?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I am afraid they are quarrelling; pray heaven I get off.
+
+_Brain._ Once again, I am the sultan of this place: Mr Limberham is
+the mogul of the next mansion.
+
+_Wood._ Though I am a stranger in the house, it is impossible I should
+be so much mistaken: I say, this is Limberham's lodging.
+
+_Brain._ You would not venture a wager of ten pounds, that you are not
+mistaken?
+
+_Wood._ It is done: I will lay you.
+
+_Brain._ Who shall be judge?
+
+_Wood._ Who better than your wife? She cannot be partial, because she
+knows not on which side you have laid.
+
+_Brain._ Content.--Come hither, lady mine: Whose lodgings are these?
+who is lord, and grand seignior of them?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Oh, goes it there?--Why should you ask me such
+a question, when every body in the house can tell they are 'nown
+dear's?
+
+_Brain._ Now are you satisfied? Children and fools, you know the
+proverb--
+
+_Wood._ Pox on me! nothing but such a positive coxcomb as I am, would
+have laid his money upon such odds; as if you did not know your own
+lodgings better than I, at half a day's warning! And that which vexes
+me more than the loss of my money, is the loss of my adventure!
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Brain._ It shall be spent: We will have a treat with it. This is a
+fool of the first magnitude.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Let my own dear alone, to find a fool out.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ Bully Brainsick, Pug has sent me to you on an embassy, to
+bring you down to cards again; she is in her mulligrubs already; she
+will never forgive you the last _vol_ you won. It is but losing a
+little to her, out of complaisance, as they say, to a fair lady; and
+whatever she wins, I will make up to you again in private.
+
+_Brain._ I would not be that slave you are, to enjoy the treasures of
+the east. The possession of Peru, and of Potosi, should not buy me to
+the bargain.
+
+_Limb._ Will you leave your perboles, and come then?
+
+_Brain._ No; for I have won a wager, to be spent luxuriously at
+Long's; with Pleasance of the party, and Termagant Tricksy; and I will
+pass, in person, to the preparation: Come, matrimony.
+                                     [_Exeunt_ BRAINSICK, _Mrs_ BRAIN.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY, _and_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ To him: I'll second you: now for mischief!
+
+_Saint._ Arise, Mr Limberham, arise; for conspiracies are hatched
+against you, and a new Faux is preparing to blow up your happiness.
+
+_Limb._ What is the matter, landlady? Pr'ythee, speak good honest
+English, and leave thy canting.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, thy beloved is led astray, by the young man Woodall,
+that vessel of uncleanness: I beheld them communing together; she
+feigned herself sick, and retired to her tent in the garden-house; and
+I watched her out-going, and behold he followed her.
+
+_Pleas._ Do you stand unmoved, and hear all this?
+
+_Limb._ Before George, I am thunder-struck!
+
+_Saint._ Take to thee thy resolution, and avenge thyself.
+
+_Limb._ But give me leave to consider first: A man must do nothing
+rashly.
+
+_Pleas._ I could tear out the villain's eyes, for dishonouring you,
+while you stand considering, as you call it. Are you a man, and suffer
+this?
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I am a man; but a man's but a man, you know: I am
+recollecting myself, how these things can be.
+
+_Saint._ How they can be! I have heard them; I have seen them.
+
+_Limb._ Heard them, and seen them! It may be so; but yet I cannot
+enter into this same business: I am amazed, I must confess; but the
+best is, I do not believe one word of it.
+
+_Saint._ Make haste, and thine own eyes shall testify against her.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if my own eyes testify, it may be so:--but it is
+impossible, however; for I am making a settlement upon her, this very
+day.
+
+_Pleas._ Look, and satisfy yourself, ere you make that settlement on
+so false a creature.
+
+_Limb._ But yet, if I should look, and not find her false, then I must
+cast in another hundred, to make her satisfaction.
+
+_Pleas._ Was there ever such a meek, hen-hearted creature!
+
+_Saint._ Verily, thou has not the spirit of a cock-chicken.
+
+_Limb._ Before George, but I have the spirit of a lion, and I will
+tear her limb from limb--if I could believe it.
+
+_Pleas._ Love, jealousy, and disdain, how they torture me at once! and
+this insensible creature--were I but in his place--[_To him._] Think,
+that this very instant she is yours no more: Now, now she is giving up
+herself, with so much violence of love, that if thunder roared, she
+could not hear it.
+
+_Limb._ I have been whetting all this while: They shall be so taken in
+the manner, that Mars and Venus shall be nothing to them.
+
+_Pleas._ Make haste; go on then.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I will go on;--and yet my mind misgives me plaguily.
+
+_Saint._ Again backsliding!
+
+_Pleas._ Have you no sense of honour in you?
+
+_Limb._ Well, honour is honour, and I must go: But I shall never get
+me such another Pug again! O, my heart! my poor tender heart! it is
+just breaking with Pug's unkindness!             [_They drag him out._
+
+
+SCENE II.--WOODALL _and_ TRICKSY _discovered in the Garden-house._
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE _to them._
+
+_Gerv._ Make haste, and save yourself, sir; the enemy's at hand: I
+have discovered him from the corner, where you set me sentry.
+
+_Wood._ Who is it?
+
+_Gerv._ Who should it be, but Limberham? armed with a two-hand fox. O
+Lord, O Lord!
+
+_Trick._ Enter quickly into the still-house, both of you, and leave me
+to him: There is a spring-lock within, to open it when we are gone.
+
+_Wood._ Well, I have won the party and revenge, however: A minute
+longer, and I had won the tout.     [_They go in: She locks the Door._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM, _with a great Sword._
+
+_Limb._ Disloyal Pug!
+
+_Trick._ What humour is this? you are drunk, it seems: Go sleep.
+
+_Limb._ Thou hast robbed me of my repose for ever: I am like Macbeth,
+after the death of good king Duncan; methinks a voice says to
+me,--Sleep no more; Tricksy has murdered sleep.
+
+_Trick._ Now I find it: You are willing to save your settlement, and
+are sent by some of your wise counsellors, to pick a quarrel with me.
+
+_Limb._ I have been your cully above these seven years; but, at last,
+my eyes are opened to your witchcraft; and indulgent heaven has taken
+care of my preservation. In short, madam, I have found you out; and,
+to cut off preambles, produce your adulterer.
+
+_Trick._ If I have any, you know him best: You are the only ruin of my
+reputation. But if I have dishonoured my family, for the love of you,
+methinks you should be the last man to upbraid me with it.
+
+_Limb._ I am sure you are of the family of your abominable great
+grandam Eve; but produce the man, or, by my father's soul--
+
+_Trick._ Still I am in the dark.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, you have been in the dark; I know it: But I shall bring
+you to light immediately.
+
+_Trick._ You are not jealous?
+
+_Limb._ No; I am too certain to be jealous: But you have a man here,
+that shall be nameless; let me see him.
+
+_Trick._ Oh, if that be your business, you had best search: And when
+you have wearied yourself, and spent your idle humour, you may find me
+above, in my chamber, and come to ask my pardon.             [_Going._
+
+_Limb._ You may go, madam; but I shall beseech your ladyship to leave
+the key of the still-house door behind you: I have a mind to some of
+the sweet-meats you have locked up there; you understand me. Now, for
+the old dog-trick! you have lost the key, I know already, but I am
+prepared for that; you shall know you have no fool to deal with.
+
+_Trick._ No; here is the key: Take it, and satisfy your foolish
+curiosity.
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] This confidence amazes me! If those two gipsies
+have abused me, and I should not find him there now, this would make
+an immortal quarrel.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] I have put him to a stand.
+
+_Limb._ Hang it, it is no matter; I will be satisfied: If it comes to
+a rupture, I know the way to buy my peace. Pug, produce the key.
+
+_Trick._ [_Takes him about the neck._] My dear, I have it for you:
+come, and kiss me. Why would you be so unkind to suspect my faith now!
+when I have forsaken all the world for you.--[_Kiss again._] But I am
+not in the mood of quarrelling to-night; I take this jealousy the best
+way, as the effect of your passion. Come up, and we will go to bed
+together, and be friends.                               [_Kiss again._
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] Pug is in a pure humour to-night, and it would vex
+a man to lose it; but yet I must be satisfied:--and therefore, upon
+mature consideration, give me the key.
+
+_Trick._ You are resolved, then?
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I am resolved; for I have sworn to myself by Styx; and
+that is an irrevocable oath.
+
+_Trick._ Now, see your folly: There's the key.        [_Gives it him._
+
+_Limb._ Why, that is a loving Pug; I will prove thee innocent
+immediately: And that will put an end to all controversies betwixt us.
+
+_Trick._ Yes, it shall put an end to all our quarrels: Farewell for
+the last time, sir. Look well upon my face, that you may remember it;
+for, from this time forward, I have sworn it irrevocably too, that you
+shall never see it more.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, but hold a little, Pug. What's the meaning of this new
+commotion?
+
+_Trick._ No more; but satisfy your foolish fancy, for you are master:
+and, besides, I am willing to be justified.
+
+_Limb._ Then you shall be justified.      [_Puts the Key in the Door._
+
+_Trick._ I know I shall: Farewell.
+
+_Limb._ But, are you sure you shall?
+
+_Trick._ No, no, he is there: You'll find him up in the chimney, or
+behind the door; or, it may be, crowded into some little galley-pot.
+
+_Limb._ But you will not leave me, if I should look?
+
+_Trick._ You are not worthy my answer: I am gone.        [_Going out._
+
+_Limb._ Hold, hold, divine Pug, and let me recollect a little.--This
+is no time for meditation neither: while I deliberate, she may be
+gone. She must be innocent, or she could never be so confident and
+careless.--Sweet Pug, forgive me.                           [_Kneels._
+
+_Trick._ I am provoked too far.
+
+_Limb._ It is the property of a goddess to forgive. Accept of this
+oblation; with this humble kiss, I here present it to thy fair hand: I
+conclude thee innocent without looking, and depend wholly upon thy
+mercy.                                              [_Offers the Key._
+
+_Trick._ No, keep it, keep it: the lodgings are your own.
+
+_Limb._ If I should keep it, I were unworthy of forgiveness: I will no
+longer hold this fatal instrument of our separation.
+
+_Trick._ [_Taking it._] Rise, sir: I will endeavour to overcome my
+nature, and forgive you; for I am so scrupulously nice in love, that
+it grates my very soul to be suspected: Yet, take my counsel, and
+satisfy yourself.
+
+_Limb._ I would not be satisfied, to be possessor of Potosi, as my
+brother Brainsick says. Come to bed, dear Pug.--Now would not I change
+my condition, to be an eastern monarch!                     [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Gerv._ O lord, sir, are we alive!
+
+_Wood._ Alive! why, we were never in any danger: Well, she is a rare
+manager of a fool!
+
+_Gerv._ Are you disposed yet to receive good counsel? Has affliction
+wrought upon you?
+
+_Wood._ Yes, I must ask thy advice in a most important business. I
+have promised a charity to Mrs Saintly, and she expects it with a
+beating heart a-bed: Now, I have at present no running cash to throw
+away; my ready money is all paid to Mrs Tricksy, and the bill is drawn
+upon me for to-night.
+
+_Gerv._ Take advice of your pillow.
+
+_Wood._ No, sirrah; since you have not the grace to offer yours, I
+will for once make use of my authority and command you to perform the
+foresaid drudgery in my place.
+
+_Gerv._ Zookers, I cannot answer it to my conscience.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, an your conscience can suffer you to swear, it shall
+suffer you to lie too: I mean in this sense. Come, no denial, you must
+do it; she is rich, and there is a provision for your life.
+
+_Gerv._ I beseech you, sir, have pity on my soul.
+
+_Wood._ Have you pity of your body: There is all the wages you must
+expect.
+
+_Gerv._ Well, sir, you have persuaded me: I will arm my conscience
+with a resolution of making her an honourable amends by marriage; for
+to-morrow morning a parson shall authorise my labours, and turn
+fornication into duty. And, moreover, I will enjoin myself, by way of
+penance, not to touch her for seven nights after.
+
+_Wood._ Thou wert predestinated for a husband, I see, by that natural
+instinct: As we walk, I will instruct thee how to behave thyself, with
+secrecy and silence.
+
+_Gerv._ I have a key of the garden, to let us out the back-way into
+the street, and so privately to our lodging.
+
+_Wood._ 'Tis well: I will plot the rest of my affairs a-bed; for it is
+resolved that Limberham shall not wear horns alone: and I am impatient
+till I add to my trophy the spoils of Brainsick.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Jud._ Well, you are a lucky man! Mrs Brainsick is fool enough to
+believe you wholly innocent; and that the adventure of the
+garden-house, last night, was only a vision of Mrs Saintly's.
+
+_Wood._ I knew, if I could once speak with her, all would be set right
+immediately; for, had I been there, look you--
+
+_Jud._ As you were, most certainly.
+
+_Wood._ Limberham must have found me out; that _fe-fa-fum_ of a keeper
+would have smelt the blood of a cuckold-maker: They say, he was
+peeping and butting about in every cranny.
+
+_Jud._ But one. You must excuse my unbelief, though Mrs Brainsick is
+better satisfied. She and her husband, you know, went out this morning
+to the New Exchange: There she has given him the slip; and pretending
+to call at her tailor's to try her stays for a new gown--
+
+_Wood._ I understand thee;--she fetched me a short turn, like a hare
+before her muse, and will immediately run hither to covert?
+
+_Jud._ Yes; but because your chamber will be least suspicious, she
+appoints to meet you there; that, if her husband should come back, he
+may think her still abroad, and you may have time--
+
+_Wood._ To take in the horn-work. It happens as I wish; for Mrs
+Tricksy, and her keeper, are gone out with father Aldo, to complete
+her settlement; my landlady is safe at her morning exercise with my
+man Gervase, and her daughter not stirring: the house is our own, and
+iniquity may walk bare-faced.
+
+_Jud._ And, to make all sure, I am ordered to be from home. When I
+come back again, I shall knock at your door, with,
+  _Speak, brother, speak;_                                 [_Singing._
+  _Is the deed done?_
+
+_Wood._ _Long ago, long ago;_--and then we come panting out together.
+Oh, I am ravished with the imagination on't!
+
+_Jud._ Well, I must retire; good-morrow to you, sir.          [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Now do I humbly conceive, that this mistress in matrimony will
+give me more pleasure than the former; for your coupled spaniels, when
+they are once let loose, are afterwards the highest rangers.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ BRAINSICK, _running._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Oh dear Mr Woodall, what shall I do?
+
+_Wood._ Recover breath, and I'll instruct you in the next chamber.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ But my husband follows me at heels.
+
+_Wood._ Has he seen you?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I hope not: I thought I had left him sure enough at the
+Exchange; but, looking behind me, as I entered into the house, I saw
+him walking a round rate this way.
+
+_Wood._ Since he has not seen you, there is no danger; you need but
+step into my chamber, and there we will lock ourselves up, and
+transform him in a twinkling.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I had rather have got into my own; but Judith is gone out
+with the key, I doubt.
+
+_Wood._ Yes, by your appointment. But so much the better; for when the
+cuckold finds no company, he will certainly go a sauntering again.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Make haste, then.
+
+_Wood._ Immediately.--[_Goes to open the Door hastily, and breaks his
+Key._] What is the matter here? the key turns round, and will not
+open! As I live, we are undone! with too much haste it is broken!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Then I am lost; for I cannot enter into my own.
+
+_Wood._ This next room is Limberham's. See! the door's open; and he
+and his mistress are both abroad.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ There is no remedy, I must venture in; for his knowing I
+am come back so soon, must be cause of jealousy enough, if the fool
+should find me.
+
+_Wood._ [_Looking in._] See there! Mrs Tricksy has left her Indian
+gown upon the bed; clap it on, and turn your back: he will easily
+mistake you for her, if he should look in upon you.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I will put on my vizor-mask, however, for more security.
+[_Noise._] Hark! I hear him.                               [_Goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What, in a musty musing, monsieur Woodall! Let me enter into
+the affair.
+
+_Wood._ You may guess it, by the post I have taken up.
+
+_Brain._ O, at the door of the damsel Tricksy! your business is known
+by your abode; as the posture of a porter before a gate, denotes to
+what family he belongs. [_Looks in._] It is an assignation, I see; for
+yonder she stands, with her back toward me, drest up for the duel,
+with all the ornaments of the east. Now for the judges of the field,
+to divide the sun and wind betwixt the combatants, and a tearing
+trumpeter to sound the charge.
+
+_Wood._ It is a private quarrel, to be decided without seconds; and
+therefore you would do me a favour to withdraw.
+
+_Brain._ Your Limberham is nearer than you imagine: I left him almost
+entering at the door.
+
+_Wood._ Plague of all impertinent cuckolds! they are ever troublesome
+to us honest lovers: so intruding!
+
+_Brain._ They are indeed, where their company is not desired.
+
+_Wood._ Sure he has some tutelar devil to guard his brows! just when
+she had bobbed him, and made an errand home, to come to me!
+
+_Brain._ It is unconscionably done of him. But you shall not adjourn
+your love for this: the Brainsick has an ascendant over him; I am your
+guarantee; he is doomed a cuckold, in disdain of destiny.
+
+_Wood._ What mean you?
+
+_Brain._ To stand before the door with my brandished blade, and defend
+the entrance: He dies upon the point, if he approaches.
+
+_Wood._ If I durst trust it, it is heroic.
+
+_Brain._ It is the office of a friend: I will do it.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Should he know hereafter his wife were here, he
+would think I had enjoyed her, though I had not; it is best venturing
+for something. He takes pains enough, on conscience, for his
+cuckoldom; and, by my troth, has earned it fairly.--But, may a man
+venture upon your promise?
+
+_Brain._ Bars of brass, and doors of adamant, could not more secure
+you.
+
+_Wood._ I know it; but still gentle means are best: You may come to
+force at last. Perhaps you may wheedle him away: it is but drawing a
+trope or two upon him.
+
+_Brain._ He shall have it, with all the artillery of eloquence.
+
+_Wood._ Ay, ay; your figure breaks no bones. With your good leave.--
+                                                           [_Goes in._
+
+_Brain._ Thou hast it, boy. Turn to him, madam; to her Woodall: and St
+George for merry England. _Tan ta ra ra ra, ra ra! Dub, a dub, dub;
+Tan ta ra ra ra._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ How now, bully Brainsick! What, upon the _Tan ta ra_, by
+yourself?
+
+_Brain._ Clangor, _taratantara,_ murmur.
+
+_Limb._ Commend me to honest _lingua Franca_. Why, this is enough to
+stun a Christian, with your Hebrew, and your Greek, and such like
+Latin.
+
+_Brain._ Out, ignorance!
+
+_Limb._ Then ignorance, by your leave; for I must enter.
+                                                  [_Attempts to pass._
+
+_Brain._ Why in such haste? the fortune of Greece depends not on it.
+
+_Limb._ But Pug's fortune does: that is dearer to me than Greece, and
+sweeter than ambergrease.
+
+_Brain._ You will not find her here. Come, you are jealous; you are
+haunted with a raging fiend, that robs you of your sweet repose.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, an you are in your perbole's again! Look you, it is Pug
+is jealous of her jewels: she has left the key of her cabinet behind,
+and has desired me to bring it back to her.
+
+_Brain._ Poor fool! he little thinks she is here before him!--Well,
+this pretence will never pass on me; for I dive deeper into your
+affairs; you are jealous. But, rather than my soul should be concerned
+for a sex so insignificant--Ha! the gods! If I thought my proper wife
+were now within, and prostituting all her treasures to the lawless
+love of an adulterer, I would stand as intrepid, as firm, and as
+unmoved, as the statue of a Roman gladiator.
+
+_Limb._ [_In the same tone._] Of a Roman gladiator!--Now are you as
+mad as a March hare; but I am in haste, to return to Pug: yet, by your
+favour, I will first secure the cabinet.
+
+_Brain._ No, you must not.
+
+_Limb._ Must not? What, may not a man come by you, to look upon his
+own goods and chattels, in his own chamber?
+
+_Brain._ No; with this sabre I defy the destinies, and dam up the
+passage with my person; like a rugged rock, opposed against the
+roaring of the boisterous billows. Your jealousy shall have no course
+through me, though potentates and princes--
+
+_Limb._ Pr'ythee, what have we to do with potentates and princes? Will
+you leave your troping, and let me pass?
+
+_Brain._ You have your utmost answer.
+
+_Limb._ If this maggot bite a little deeper, we shall have you a
+citizen of Bethlem yet, ere dog-days. Well, I say little; but I will
+tell Pug on it.                                               [_Exit._
+
+_Brain._ She knows it already, by your favour--           [_Knocking._
+Sound a retreat, you lusty lovers, or the enemy will charge you in the
+flank, with a fresh reserve: March off, march off upon the spur, ere
+he can reach you.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL.
+
+_Wood._ How now, baron Tell-clock[12], is the passage clear?
+
+_Brain._ Clear as a level, without hills or woods, and void of
+ambuscade.
+
+_Wood._ But Limberham will return immediately, when he finds not his
+mistress where he thought he left her.
+
+_Brain._ Friendship, which has done much, will yet do more. [_Shows a
+key._] With this _passe par tout_, I will instantly conduct her to my
+own chamber, that she may out-face the keeper, she has been there;
+and, when my wife returns, who is my slave, I will lay my conjugal
+commands upon her, to affirm, they have been all this time together.
+
+_Wood._ I shall never make you amends for this kindness, my dear
+Padron. But would it not be better, if you would take the pains to run
+after Limberham, and stop him in his way ere he reach the place where
+he thinks he left his mistress; then hold him in discourse as long as
+possibly you can, till you guess your wife may be returned, that so
+they may appear together?
+
+_Brain._ I warrant you: _laissez faire a Marc Antoine._       [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Now, madam, you may venture out in safety.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Entering._] Pray heaven I may.                [_Noise._
+
+_Wood._ Hark! I hear Judith's voice: it happens well that she's
+returned: slip into your chamber immediately, and send back the gown.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I will:--but are not you a wicked man, to put me into all
+this danger?                                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Let what can happen, my comfort is, at least, I have enjoyed.
+But this is no place for consideration. Be jogging, good Mr Woodall,
+out of this family, while you are well; and go plant in some other
+country, where your virtues are not so famous.               [_Going._
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _with a box of writings._
+
+_Trick._ What, wandering up and down, as if you wanted an owner? Do
+you know that I am lady of the manor; and that all wefts and strays
+belong to me?
+
+_Wood._ I have waited for you above an hour; but friar Bacon's head
+has been lately speaking to me,--that time is past. In a word, your
+keeper has been here, and will return immediately; we must defer our
+happiness till some more favourable time.
+
+_Trick._ I fear him not; he has this morning armed me against himself,
+by this settlement; the next time he rebels, he gives me a fair
+occasion of leaving him for ever.
+
+_Wood._ But is this conscience in you? not to let him have his
+bargain, when he has paid so dear for it?
+
+_Trick._ You do not know him: he must perpetually be used ill, or he
+insults. Besides, I have gained an absolute dominion over him: he must
+not see, when I bid him wink. If you argue after this, either you love
+me not, or dare not.
+
+_Wood._ Go in, madam: I was never dared before. I'll but scout a
+little, and follow you immediately. [TRICK. _goes in._] I find a
+mistress is only kept for other men: and the keeper is but her man in
+a green livery, bound to serve a warrant for the doe, whenever she
+pleases, or is in season.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH, _with the Night-gown._
+
+_Jud._ Still you're a lucky man! Mr Brainsick has been exceeding
+honourable: he ran, as if a legion of bailiffs had been at his heels,
+and overtook Limberham in the street. Here, take the gown; lay it
+where you found it, and the danger's over.
+
+_Wood._ Speak softly; Mrs Tricksy is returned. [_Looks in._] Oh, she's
+gone into her closet, to lay up her writings: I can throw it on the
+bed, ere she perceive it has been wanting.            [_Throws it in._
+
+_Jud._ Every woman would not have done this for you, which I have
+done.
+
+_Wood._ I am sensible of it, little Judith; there's a time to come
+shall pay for all. I hear her returning: not a word; away.
+                                                       [_Exit_ JUDITH.
+
+  _Re-enter_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Trick._ What, is a second summons needful? my favours have not been
+so cheap, that they should stick upon my hands. It seems, you slight
+your bill of fare, because you know it; or fear to be invited to your
+loss.
+
+_Wood._ I was willing to secure my happiness from interruption. A true
+soldier never falls upon the plunder, while the enemy is in the field.
+
+_Trick._ He has been so often baffled, that he grows contemptible.
+Were he here, should he see you enter into my closet; yet--
+
+_Wood._ You are like to be put upon the trial, for I hear his voice.
+
+_Trick._ 'Tis so: go in, and mark the event now: be but as
+unconcerned, as you are safe, and trust him to my management.
+
+_Wood._ I must venture it; because to be seen here would have the same
+effect, as to be taken within. Yet I doubt you are too confident.
+                                                        [_He goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Limb._ How now, Pug? returned so soon!
+
+_Trick._ When I saw you came not for me, I was loth to be long without
+you.
+
+_Limb._ But which way came you, that I saw you not?
+
+_Trick._ The back way; by the garden door.
+
+_Limb._ How long have you been here?
+
+_Trick._ Just come before you.
+
+_Limb._ O, then all's well. For, to tell you true, Pug, I had a kind
+of villainous apprehension that you had been here longer: but whatever
+thou sayest is an oracle, sweet Pug, and I am satisfied.
+
+_Brain._ [_Aside._] How infinitely she gulls him! and he so stupid not
+to find it! [_To her._] If he be still within, madam, (you know my
+meaning?) here's Bilbo ready to forbid your keeper entrance.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Woodall must have told him of our
+appointment.--What think you of walking down, Mr Limberham?
+
+_Limb._ I'll but visit the chamber a little first.
+
+_Trick._ What new maggot's this? you dare not, sure, be jealous!
+
+_Limb._ No, I protest, sweet Pug, I am not: only to satisfy my
+curiosity; that's but reasonable, you know.
+
+_Trick._ Come, what foolish curiosity?
+
+_Limb._ You must know, Pug, I was going but just now, in obedience to
+your commands, to enquire of the health and safety of your jewels, and
+my brother Brainsick most barbarously forbade me entrance:--nay, I
+dare accuse you, when Pug's by to back me;--but now I am resolved I
+will go see them, or somebody shall smoke for it.
+
+_Brain._ But I resolve you shall not. If she pleases to command my
+person, I can comply with the obligation of a cavalier.
+
+_Trick._ But what reason had you to forbid him, then, sir?
+
+_Limb._ Ay, what reason had you to forbid me, then, sir?
+
+_Brain._ 'Twas only my caprichio, madam.--Now must I seem ignorant of
+what she knows full well.                                    [_Aside._
+
+_Trick._ We'll enquire the cause at better leisure; come down, Mr
+Limberham.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if it were only his caprichio, I am satisfied; though I
+must tell you, I was in a kind of huff, to hear him _Tan ta ra, tan ta
+ra,_ a quarter of an hour together; for _Tan ta ra_ is but an odd kind
+of sound, you know, before a man's chamber.
+
+  _Enter_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] Judith has assured me, he must be there; and, I am
+resolved, I'll satisfy my revenge at any rate upon my rivals.
+
+_Trick._ Mrs Pleasance is come to call us: pray let us go.
+
+_Pleas._ Oh dear, Mr Limberham, I have had the dreadfullest dream
+to-night, and am come to tell it you: I dreamed you left your
+mistress's jewels in your chamber, and the door open.
+
+_Limb._ In good time be it spoken; and so I did, Mrs Pleasance.
+
+_Pleas._ And that a great swinging thief came in, and whipt them out.
+
+_Limb._ Marry, heaven forbid!
+
+_Trick._ This is ridiculous: I'll speak to your mother, madam, not to
+suffer you to eat such heavy suppers.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, that's very true; for, you may remember she fed very much
+upon larks and pigeons; and they are very heavy meat, as Pug says.
+
+_Trick._ The jewels are all safe; I looked on them.
+
+_Brain._ Will you never stand corrected, Mrs Pleasance?
+
+_Pleas._ Not by you; correct your matrimony.--And methought, of a
+sudden this thief was turned to Mr Woodall; and that, hearing Mr
+Limberham come, he slipt for fear into the closet.
+
+_Trick._ I looked all over it; I'm sure he is not there.--Come away,
+dear.
+
+_Brain._ What, I think you are in a dream too, brother Limberham.
+
+_Limb._ If her dream should come out now! 'tis good to be sure,
+however.
+
+_Trick._ You are sure; have not I said it?--You had best make Mr
+Woodall a thief, madam.
+
+_Pleas._ I make him nothing, madam: but the thief in my dream was like
+Mr Woodall; and that thief may have made Mr Limberham something.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, Mr Woodall is no thief, that's certain; but if a thief
+should be turned to Mr Woodall, that may be something.
+
+_Trick._ Then I'll fetch out the jewels: will that satisfy you?
+
+_Brain._ That shall satisfy him.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, that shall satisfy me.
+
+_Pleas._ Then you are a predestinated fool, and somewhat worse, that
+shall be nameless. Do you not see how grossly she abuses you? my life
+on't, there's somebody within, and she knows it; otherwise she would
+suffer you to bring out the jewels.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, I am no predestinated fool; and therefore, Pug, give way.
+
+_Trick._ I will not satisfy your humour.
+
+_Limb._ Then I will satisfy it myself: for my generous blood is up,
+and I'll force my entrance.
+
+_Brain._ Here's Bilbo, then, shall bar you; atoms are not so small, as
+I will slice the slave. Ha! fate and furies!
+
+_Limb._ Ay, for all your fate and furies, I charge you, in his
+majesty's name, to keep the peace: now, disobey authority, if you
+dare.
+
+_Trick._ Fear him not, sweet Mr Brainsick.
+
+_Pleas._ to _Brain._ But, if you should hinder him, he may trouble you
+at law, sir, and say you robbed him of his jewels.
+
+_Limb._ That is well thought on. I will accuse him heinously;
+there--and therefore fear and tremble.
+
+_Brain._ My allegiance charms me: I acquiesce. The occasion is
+plausible to let him pass.--Now let the burnished beams upon his brow
+blaze broad, for the brand he cast upon the Brainsick.       [_Aside._
+
+_Trick._ Dear Mr Limberham, come back, and hear me.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I will hear thee, Pug.
+
+_Pleas._ Go on; my life for yours, he is there.
+
+_Limb._ I am deaf as an adder; I will not hear thee, nor have no
+commiseration.                   [_Struggles from her, and rushes in._
+
+_Trick._ Then I know the worst, and care not.
+                                    [LIMBERHAM _comes running out with
+                                     the Jewels, followed by_ WOODALL,
+                                     _with his Sword drawn._
+
+_Limb._ O save me, Pug, save me!                   [_Gets behind her._
+
+_Wood._ A slave, to come and interrupt me at my devotions! but I
+will--
+
+_Limb._ Hold, hold, since you are so devout; for heaven's sake, hold!
+
+_Brain._ Nay, monsieur Woodall!
+
+_Trick._ For my sake, spare him.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, for Pug's sake, spare me.
+
+_Wood._ I did his chamber the honour, when my own was not open, to
+retire thither; and he to disturb me, like a profane rascal as he was.
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] I believe he had the devil for his chaplain, an' a
+man durst tell him so.
+
+_Wood._ What is that you mutter?
+
+_Limb._ Nay, nothing; but that I thought you had not been so well
+given. I was only afraid of Pug's jewels.
+
+_Wood._ What, does he take me for a thief? nay then--
+
+_Limb._ O mercy, mercy!
+
+_Pleas._ Hold, sir; it was a foolish dream of mine that set him on. I
+dreamt, a thief, who had been just reprieved for a former robbery, was
+venturing his neck a minute after in Mr Limberham's closet.
+
+_Wood._ Are you thereabouts, i'faith! A pox of Artemidorus[13].
+
+_Trick._ I have had a dream, too, concerning Mrs Brainsick, and
+perhaps--
+
+_Wood._ Mrs Tricksy, a word in private with you, by your keeper's
+leave.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, sir, you may speak your pleasure to her; and, if you have
+a mind to go to prayers together, the closet is open.
+
+_Wood._ [_To_ TRICK.] You but suspect it at most, and cannot prove it:
+if you value me, you will not engage me in a quarrel with her husband.
+
+_Trick._ Well, in hope you will love me, I will obey.
+
+_Brain._ Now, damsel Tricksy, your dream, your dream!
+
+_Trick._ It was something of a flagelet, that a shepherd played upon
+so sweetly, that three women followed him for his music, and still one
+of them snatched it from the other.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I understand her; but I find she is bribed to
+secrecy.
+
+_Limb._ That flagelet was, by interpretation,--but let that pass; and
+Mr Woodall, there, was the shepherd, that played the _tan ta ra_ upon
+it: but a generous heart, like mine, will endure the infamy no longer;
+therefore, Pug, I banish thee for ever.
+
+_Trick._ Then farewell.
+
+_Limb._ Is that all you make of me?
+
+_Trick._ I hate to be tormented with your jealous humours, and am glad
+to be rid of them.
+
+_Limb._ Bear witness, good people, of her ingratitude! Nothing vexes
+me, but that she calls me jealous; when I found him as close as a
+butterfly in her closet.
+
+_Trick._ No matter for that; I knew not he was there.
+
+_Limb._ Would I could believe thee!
+
+_Wood._ You have both our words for it.
+
+_Trick._ Why should you persuade him against his will?
+
+_Limb._ Since you won't persuade me, I care not much; here are the
+jewels in my possession, and I'll fetch out the settlement
+immediately.
+
+_Wood._ [_Shewing the Box._] Look you, sir, I'll spare your pains;
+four hundred a-year will serve to comfort a poor cast mistress.
+
+_Limb._ I thought what would come of your devil's _pater nosters_!
+
+_Brain._ Restore it to him for pity, Woodall.
+
+_Trick._ I make him my trustee; he shall not restore it.
+
+_Limb._ Here are jewels, that cost me above two thousand pounds; a
+queen might wear them. Behold this orient necklace, Pug! 'tis pity any
+neck should touch it, after thine, that pretty neck! but oh, 'tis the
+falsest neck that e'er was hanged in pearl.
+
+_Wood._ 'Twould become your bounty to give it her at parting.
+
+_Limb._ Never the sooner for your asking. But oh, that word parting!
+can I bear it? if she could find in her heart but so much grace, as to
+acknowledge what a traitress she has been, I think, in my conscience I
+could forgive her.
+
+_Trick._ I'll not wrong my innocence so much, nor this gentleman's;
+but, since you have accused us falsely, four hundred a-year betwixt us
+two will make us some part of reparation.
+
+_Wood._ I answer you not, but with my leg, madam.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] This mads me; but I cannot help it.
+
+_Limb._ What, wilt thou kill me, Pug, with thy unkindness, when thou
+knowest I cannot live without thee? It goes to my heart, that this
+wicked fellow--
+
+_Wood._ How's that, sir?
+
+_Limb._ Under the rose, good Mr Woodall; but, I speak it with all
+submission, in the bitterness of my spirit, that you, or any man,
+should have the disposing of my four hundred a-year _gratis_;
+therefore dear Pug, a word in private, with your permission, good Mr
+Woodall.
+
+_Trick._ Alas, I know, by experience, I may safely trust my person
+with you.                                 [_Exeunt_ LIMB. _and_ TRICK.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Pleas._ O, father Aldo, we have wanted you! Here has been made the
+rarest discovery!
+
+_Brain._ With the most comical catastrophe!
+
+_Wood._ Happily arrived, i'faith, my old sub-fornicator; I have been
+taken up on suspicion here with Mrs Tricksy.
+
+_Aldo._ To be taken, to be seen! Before George, that's a point next
+the worst, son Woodall.
+
+_Wood._ Truth is, I wanted thy assistance, old Methusalem; but, my
+comfort is, I fell greatly.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, young Phæton, that's somewhat yet, if you made a blaze
+at your departure.
+
+  _Enter_ GILES, _Mrs_ BRAINSICK, _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Giles._ By your leave, gentlemen, I have followed an old master of
+mine these two long hours, and had a fair course at him up the street;
+here he entered, I'm sure.
+
+_Aldo._ Whoop holyday! our trusty and well-beloved Giles, most
+welcome! Now for some news of my ungracious son.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Giles here! O rogue, rogue! Now, would I were safe
+stowed over head and ears in the chest again.
+
+_Aldo._ Look you now, son Woodall, I told you I was not mistaken; my
+rascal's in town, with a vengeance to him.
+
+_Giles._ Why, this is he, sir; I thought you had known him.
+
+_Aldo._ Known whom?
+
+_Giles._ Your son here, my young master.
+
+_Aldo._ Do I dote? or art thou drunk, Giles?
+
+_Giles._ Nay, I am sober enough, I'm sure; I have been kept fasting
+almost these two days.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, 'tis so! I read it in that leering look: What a
+Tartar have I caught!
+
+_Brain._ Woodall his son!
+
+_Pleas._ What, young father Aldo!
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I for shame hold up my head, to think
+what this young rogue is privy to!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ The most dumb interview I ever saw!
+
+_Brain._ What, have you beheld the Gorgon's head on either side?
+
+_Aldo._ Oh, my sins! my sins! and he keeps my book of conscience too!
+He can display them, with a witness! Oh, treacherous young devil!
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Well, the squib's run to the end of the line, and
+now for the cracker: I must bear up.
+
+_Aldo._ I must set a face of authority on the matter, for my
+credit.--Pray, who am I? do you know me, sir?
+
+_Wood._ Yes, I think I should partly know you, sir: You may remember
+some private passages betwixt us.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] I thought as much; he has me already!--But pray,
+sir, why this ceremony amongst friends? Put on, put on; and let us
+hear what news from France. Have you heard lately from my son? does he
+continue still the most hopeful and esteemed young gentleman in Paris?
+does he manage his allowance with the same discretion? and, lastly,
+has he still the same respect and duty for his good old father?
+
+_Wood._ Faith, sir, I have been too long from my catechism, to answer
+so many questions; but, suppose there be no news of your _quondam_
+son, you may comfort up your heart for such a loss; father Aldo has a
+numerous progeny about the town, heaven bless them.
+
+_Aldo._ It is very well, sir; I find you have been searching for your
+relations, then, in Whetstone's Park[14]!
+
+_Wood._ No, sir; I made some scruple of going to the foresaid place,
+for fear of meeting my own father there.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I could find in my heart to disinherit thee.
+
+_Pleas._ Sure you cannot be so unnatural.
+
+_Wood._ I am sure I am no bastard; witness one good quality I have. If
+any of your children have a stronger tang of the father in them, I am
+content to be disowned.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, from this time forward, I pronounce thee--no son of
+mine.
+
+_Wood._ Then you desire I should proceed to justify I am lawfully
+begotten? The evidence is ready, sir; and, if you please, I shall
+relate, before this honourable assembly, those excellent lessons of
+morality you gave me at our first acquaintance. As, in the first
+place--
+
+_Aldo._ Hold, hold; I charge thee hold, on thy obedience. I forgive
+thee heartily: I have proof enough thou art my son; but tame thee that
+can, thou art a mad one.
+
+_Pleas._ Why this is as it should be.
+
+_Aldo._ [_To him._] Not a word of any passages betwixt us; it is
+enough we know each other; hereafter we will banish all pomp and
+ceremony, and live familiarly together. I'll be Pylades, and thou mad
+Orestes, and we will divide the estate betwixt us, and have fresh
+wenches, and _ballum rankum_ every night.
+
+_Wood._ A match, i'faith: and let the world pass.
+
+_Aldo._ But hold a little; I had forgot one point: I hope you are not
+married, nor engaged?
+
+_Wood._ To nothing but my pleasures, I.
+
+_Aldo._ A mingle of profit would do well though. Come, here is a girl;
+look well upon her; it is a mettled toad, I can tell you that: She
+will make notable work betwixt two sheets, in a lawful way.
+
+_Wood._ What, my old enemy, Mrs Pleasance!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Marry Mrs Saintly's daughter!
+
+_Aldo._ The truth is, she has past for her daughter, by my
+appointment; but she has as good blood running in her veins, as the
+best of you. Her father, Mr Palms, on his death-bed, left her to my
+care and disposal, besides a fortune of twelve hundred a year; a
+pretty convenience, by my faith.
+
+_Wood._ Beyond my hopes, if she consent.
+
+_Aldo._ I have taken some care of her education, and placed her here
+with Mrs Saintly, as her daughter, to avoid her being blown upon by
+fops, and younger brothers. So now, son, I hope I have matched your
+concealment with my discovery; there is hit for hit, ere I cross the
+cudgels.
+
+_Pleas._ You will not take them up, sir?
+
+_Wood._ I dare not against you, madam: I am sure you will worst me at
+all weapons. All I can say is, I do not now begin to love you.
+
+_Aldo._ Let me speak for thee: Thou shalt be used, little Pleasance,
+like a sovereign princess: Thou shalt not touch a bit of butchers'
+meat in a twelve-month; and thou shall be treated--
+
+_Pleas._ Not with _ballum rankum_ every night, I hope!
+
+_Aldo._ Well, thou art a wag; no more of that. Thou shall want neither
+man's meat, nor woman's meat, as far as his provision will hold out.
+
+_Pleas._ But I fear he is so horribly given to go a house-warming
+abroad, that the least part of the provision will come to my share at
+home.
+
+_Wood._ You will find me so much employment in my own family, that I
+shall have little need to look out for journey-work.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, he shall do thee reason, ere thou sleepest.
+
+_Pleas._ No; he shall have an honourable truce for one day at least;
+for it is not fair to put a fresh enemy upon him.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_To_ PLEAS.] I beseech you, madam, discover nothing
+betwixt him and me.
+
+_Pleas._ [_To her._] I am contented to cancel the old score; but take
+heed of bringing me an after-reckoning.
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE, _leading_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Gerv._ Save you, gentlemen; and you, my _quondam_ master: You are
+welcome all, as I may say.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, sirrah? what is the matter?
+
+_Gerv._ Give good words, while you live, sir; your landlord, and Mr
+Saintly, if you please.
+
+_Wood._ Oh, I understand the business; he is married to the widow.
+
+_Saint._ Verily the good work is accomplished.
+
+_Brain._ But, why Mr Saintly?
+
+_Gerv._ When a man is married to his betters, it is but decency to
+take her name. A pretty house, a pretty situation, and prettily
+furnished! I have been unlawfully labouring at hard duty; but a parson
+has soldered up the matter: Thank your worship, Mr Woodall--How? Giles
+here!
+
+_Wood._ This business is out, and I am now Aldo. My father has
+forgiven me, and we are friends.
+
+_Gerv._ When will Giles, with his honesty, come to this?
+
+_Wood._ Nay, do not insult too much, good Mr Saintly: Thou wert but my
+deputy; thou knowest the widow intended it to me.
+
+_Gerv._ But I am satisfied she performed it with me, sir. Well, there
+is much good will in these precise old women; they are the most
+zealous bed-fellows! Look, an' she does not blush now! you see there
+is grace in her.
+
+_Wood._ Mr Limberham, where are you? Come, cheer up, man! How go
+matters on your side of the country? Cry him, Gervase.
+
+_Gerv._ Mr Limberham, Mr Limberham, make your appearance in the court,
+and save your recognizance.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Sir, I should now make a speech to you in my own defence; but
+the short of all is this: If you can forgive what is past, your hand,
+and I'll endeavour to make up the breach betwixt you and your
+mistress: If not, I am ready to give you the satisfaction of a
+gentleman.
+
+_Limb._ Sir, I am a peaceable man, and a good Christian, though I say
+it, and desire no satisfaction from any man. Pug and I are partly
+agreed upon the point already; and therefore lay thy hand upon thy
+heart, Pug, and, if thou canst, from the bottom of thy soul, defy
+mankind, naming no body, I'll forgive thy past enormities; and, to
+give good example to all Christian keepers, will take thee to be my
+wedded wife; and thy four hundred a-year shall be settled upon thee,
+for separate maintenance.
+
+_Trick._ Why, now I can consent with honour.
+
+_Aldo._ This is the first business that was ever made up without me.
+
+_Wood._ Give you joy, Mr Bridegroom.
+
+_Limb._ You may spare your breath, sir, if you please; I desire none
+from you. It is true, I am satisfied of her virtue, in spite of
+slander; but, to silence calumny, I shall civilly desire you
+henceforth, not to make a chapel-of-ease of Pug's closet.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I'll take care of false worship, I'll warrant him.
+He shall have no more to do with Bel and the Dragon.
+
+_Brain._ Come hither, wedlock, and let me seal my lasting love upon
+thy lips. Saintly has been seduced, and so has Tricksy; but thou alone
+art kind and constant. Hitherto I have not valued modesty, according
+to its merit; but hereafter, Memphis shall not boast a monument more
+firm than my affection.
+
+_Wood._ A most excellent reformation, and at a most seasonable time!
+The moral of it is pleasant, if well considered. Now, let us to
+dinner.--Mrs Saintly, lead the way, as becomes you, in your own house.
+                                                [_The rest going off._
+
+_Pleas._ Your hand, sweet moiety.
+
+_Wood._ And heart too, my comfortable importance.
+  Mistress and wife, by turns, I have possessed:
+  He, who enjoys them both in one, is blessed.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The Mahommedan doctrine of predestination is well known. They
+   reconcile themselves to all dispensations, by saying, "They are
+   written on the forehead" of him, to whose lot they have fallen.
+
+2. The custom of drinking _supernaculum_, consisted in turning down
+   the cup upon the thumb-nail of the drinker after his pledge, when,
+   if duly quaffed off, no drop of liquor ought to appear upon his
+   nail.
+
+     With that she set it to her nose,
+     And off at once the rumkin goes;
+     No drops beside her muzzle falling,
+     Until that she had supped it all in:
+     Then turning't topsey on her thumb,
+     Says--look, here's _supernaculum._
+                                   _Cotton's Virgil travestie._
+
+   This custom seems to have been derived from the Germans, who held,
+   that if a drop appeared on the thumb, it presaged grief and
+   misfortune to the person whose health was drunk.
+
+3. This piece of dirty gallantry seems to have been fashionable:
+
+     Come, Phyllis, thy finger, to begin the go round;
+     How the glass in thy hand with charms does abound!
+     You and the wine to each other lend arms,
+           And I find that my love
+           Does for either improve,
+     For that does redouble, as you double your charms.
+
+4. Dapper, a silly character in Jonson's Alchemist, tricked by an
+   astrologer, who persuades him the queen of fairies is his aunt.
+
+5. The mask, introduced in the first act of the Maid's Tragedy, ends
+   with the following dialogue betwixt Cinthia and Night:
+
+     _Cinthia_ Whip up thy team,
+     The day breaks here, and yon sun-flaring beam
+     Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go?
+
+     _Night._ I'll vanish into mists.
+
+     _Cinthia._ I into day.
+
+6. In spring 1677, whilst the treaty of Nimeguen was under discussion,
+   the French took the three important frontier towns, Valenciennes,
+   St Omer, and Cambray. The Spaniards seemed, with the most passive
+   infatuation, to have left the defence of Flanders to the Prince of
+   Orange and the Dutch.
+
+7. Alluding to the imaginary history of Pine, a merchant's clerk, who,
+   being wrecked on a desert island in the South Seas, bestowed on it
+   his own name, and peopled it by the assistance of his master's
+   daughter and her two maid servants, who had escaped from the wreck
+   by his aid.
+
+8. Sulli, the famous composer.
+
+9. It would seem that about this time the French were adopting their
+   present mode of pronunciation, so capriciously distinct from the
+   orthography.
+
+10. "Queen Dido, or the wandering Prince of Troy," an old ballad,
+   printed in the "Reliques of Ancient Poetry," in which the ghost of
+   queen Dido thus addresses the perfidious Æneas:
+
+     Therefore prepare thy flitting soul,
+       To wander with me in the air;
+     When deadly grief shall make it howl,
+       Because of me thou took'st no care.
+     Delay not time, thy glass is run,
+       Thy date is past, thy life is done.
+
+11. _Pricking_, in hare-hunting, is tracking the foot of the game by
+   the eye, when the scent is lost.]
+
+12. The facetious Tom Brown, in his 2d dialogue on Mr Bayes' changing
+   his religion, introduces our poet saying,
+
+   "Likewise he (Cleveland) having the misfortune to call that
+   domestic animal a cock,
+
+     The Baron Tell-clock of the night,
+
+   I could never, igad, as I came home from the tavern, meet a
+   watchman or so, but I presently asked him, 'Baron Tell-clock of the
+   night, pr'ythee how goes the time?"
+
+13. Artemidorus, the sophist of Cnidos, was the soothsayer who
+    prophesied the death of Cæsar. Shakespeare has introduced him in
+    his tragedy of "Julius Cæsar."
+
+14. A common rendezvous of the rakes and bullies of the time; "For
+   when they expected the most polished hero in Nemours, I gave them a
+   ruffian reeking from Whetstone's Park." Dedication to Lee's
+   "Princess of Cleves." In his translation of Ovid's "Love Elegies,"
+   Lib. II, Eleg. XIX. Dryden mentions, "an easy Whetstone whore."
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+                         SPOKEN BY LIMBERHAM.
+
+
+  I beg a boon, that, ere you all disband,
+  Some one would take my bargain off my hand:
+  To keep a punk is but a common evil;
+  To find her false, and marry,--that's the devil.
+  Well, I ne'er acted part in all my life,
+  But still I was fobbed off with some such wife.
+  I find the trick; these poets take no pity
+  Of one that is a member of the city.
+  We cheat you lawfully, and in our trades;
+  You cheat us basely with your common jades.
+  Now I am married, I must sit down by it;
+  But let me keep my dear-bought spouse in quiet.
+  Let none of you damned Woodalls of the pit,
+  Put in for shares to mend our breed in wit;
+  We know your bastards from our flesh and blood,
+  Not one in ten of yours e'er comes to good.
+  In all the boys, their fathers' virtues shine,
+  But all the female fry turn Pugs--like mine.
+  When these grow up, Lord, with what rampant gadders
+  Our counters will be thronged, and roads with padders!
+  This town two bargains has, not worth one farthing,--
+  A Smithfield horse, and wife of Covent-Garden[1].
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Alluding to an old proverb, that whoso goes to Westminster for a
+   wife, to St Paul's for a man, and to Smithfield for a horse, may
+   meet with a whore, a knave, and a jade. Falstaff, on being informed
+   that Bardolph is gone to Smithfield to buy him a horse, observes,
+   "I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield; an
+   I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and
+   wived." _Second Part of Henry IV._ Act I. Scene II.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+          _Hi proprium decus et partum indignantur honorem,
+          Ni teneant--_
+                                   VIRG.
+
+
+                 _Vos exemplaria Græca
+               Nocturnâ versate manu, versate diurnâ._
+                                   HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+The dreadful subject of this piece has been celebrated by several
+ancient and modern dramatists. Of seven tragedies of Sophocles which
+have reached our times, two are founded on the history of OEdipus. The
+first of these, called "OEdipus Tyrannus," has been extolled by every
+critic since the days of Aristotle, for the unparalleled art with
+which the story is managed. The dreadful secret, the existence of
+which is announced by the pestilence, and by the wrath of the offended
+deities, seems each moment on the verge of being explained, yet, till
+the last act, the reader is still held in horrible suspense. Every
+circumstance, resorted to for the purpose of evincing the falsehood of
+the oracle, tends gradually to confirm the guilt of OEdipus, and to
+accelerate the catastrophe; while his own supposed consciousness of
+innocence, at once interests us in his favour, and precipitates the
+horrible discovery. Dryden, who arranged the whole plan of the
+following tragedy, although assisted by Lee in the execution, was
+fully aware of the merit of the "OEdipus Tyrannus;" and, with the
+addition of the under-plot of Adrastus and Eurydice, has traced out
+the events of the drama, in close imitation of Sophocles. The Grecian
+bard, however, in concurrence with the history or tradition of Greece,
+has made OEdipus survive the discovery of his unintentional guilt, and
+reserved him, in blindness and banishment, for the subject of his
+second tragedy of "OEdipus Coloneus." This may have been well judged,
+considering that the audience were intimately acquainted with the
+important scenes which were to follow among the descendants of
+OEdipus, with the first and second wars against Thebes, and her final
+conquest by the ancestors of those Athenians, before whom the play was
+rehearsed, led on by their demi-god Theseus. They were also prepared
+to receive, with reverence and faith, the belief on which the whole
+interest turns, that if OEdipus should be restored to Thebes, the
+vengeance of the gods against the devoted city might be averted; and
+to applaud his determination to remain on Athenian ground, that the
+predestined curse might descend on his unnatural sons and ungrateful
+country. But while the modern reader admires the lofty tone of poetry
+and high strain of morality which pervades "OEdipus Coloneus," it must
+appear more natural to his feelings, that the life of the hero,
+stained with unintentional incest and parricide, should be terminated,
+as in Dryden's play, upon the discovery of his complicated guilt and
+wretchedness. Yet there is something awful in the idea of the monarch,
+blind and exiled, innocent in intention, though so horribly criminal
+in fact, devoted, as it were, to the infernal deities, and sacred from
+human power and violence by the very excess of his guilt and misery.
+The account of the death of OEdipus Coloneus reaches the highest tone
+of sublimity. While the lightning flashes around him, he expresses the
+feeling, that his hour is come; and the reader anticipates, that, like
+Malefort in the "Unnatural Combat," he is to perish by a thunder-bolt.
+Yet, for the awful catastrophe, which we are artfully led to expect,
+is substituted a mysterious termination, still more awful. OEdipus
+arrays himself in splendid apparel, and dismisses his daughters and
+the attending Athenians. Theseus alone remains with him. The storm
+subsides, and the attendants return to the place, but OEdipus is there
+no longer--he had not perished by water, by sword, nor by fire--no one
+but Theseus knew the manner of his death. With an impressive hint,
+that it was as strange and wonderful as his life had been dismally
+eventful, the poet drops a curtain over the fate of his hero. This
+last sublime scene Dryden has not ventured to imitate; and the rants
+of Lee are a poor substitute for the calm and determined despair of
+the "OEdipus Coloneus."
+
+Seneca, perhaps to check the seeds of vice in Nero, his pupil, to whom
+incest and blood were afterwards so familiar[1], composed the Latin
+tragedy on the subject of OEdipus, which is alluded to by Dryden in
+the following preface. The cold declamatory rhetorical stile of that
+philosopher was adapted precisely to counteract the effect, which a
+tale of terror produces on the feelings and imagination. His taste
+exerted itself in filling up and garnishing the more trifling
+passages, which Sophocles had passed over as unworthy of notice, and
+in adjusting incidents laid in the heroic age of Grecian simplicity,
+according to the taste and customs of the court of Nero[2]. Yet though
+devoid of dramatic effect, of fancy, and of genius, the OEdipus of
+Seneca displays the masculine eloquence and high moral sentiment of
+its author; and if it does not interest us in the scene of fiction, it
+often compels us to turn our thoughts inward, and to study our own
+hearts.
+
+The OEdipe of Corneille is in all respects unworthy of its great
+author. The poet considering, as he states in his introduction, that
+the subject of OEdipus tearing out his eyes was too horrible to be
+presented before ladies, qualifies its terrors by the introduction of
+a love intrigue betwixt Theseus and Dirce. The unhappy propensity of
+the French poets to introduce long discussions upon _la belle
+passion_, addressed merely to the understanding, without respect to
+feeling or propriety, is nowhere more ridiculously displayed than in
+"OEdipe." The play opens with the following polite speech of Theseus
+to Dirce:
+
+  _N'ecoutez plus, madame, une pitie cruelle,
+  Qui d'un fidel amant vous ferait un rebelle:
+  La gloire d'obeir n'a rien que me soit doux,
+  Lorsque vous m'ordonnez de m'eloigner de vous.
+  Quelque ravage affreux qu'etale ici la peste,
+  L'absence aux vrais amans est encore plus funeste;
+  Et d'un si grand peril l'image s'offre en vain,
+  Quand ce peril douteux epargne un mal certain._
+                                   Act premiere, Scene premiere.
+
+It is hardly possible more prettily to jingle upon the _peril
+douteux_, and the _mal certain_; but this is rather an awkward way of
+introducing the account of the pestilence, with which all the other
+dramatists have opened their scene. OEdipus, however, is at once
+sensible of the cause which detained Theseus at his melancholy court,
+amidst the horrors of the plague:
+
+  _Je l'avais bien juge qu'_ un interet d'amour
+  _Fermait ici vos yeux aux perils de ma cour._
+
+_OEdipo conjectere opus est_--it would have been difficult for any
+other person to have divined such a motive. The conduct of the drama
+is exactly suitable to its commencement; the fate of OEdipus and of
+Thebes, the ravages of the pestilence, and the avenging of the death
+of Laius, are all secondary and subordinate considerations to the
+loves of Theseus and Dirce, as flat and uninteresting a pair as ever
+spoke _platitudes_ in French hexameters. So much is this the
+engrossing subject of the drama, that OEdipus, at the very moment when
+Tiresias is supposed to be engaged in raising the ghost of Laius,
+occupies himself in a long scene of scolding about love and duty with
+Dirce; and it is not till he is almost bullied by her off the stage,
+that he suddenly recollects, as an apology for his retreat,
+
+  _Mais il faut aller voir ce qu'a fait Tiresias._
+
+Considering, however, the declamatory nature of the French dialogue,
+and the peremptory rule of their drama, that love, or rather
+gallantry, must be the moving principle of every performance, it is
+more astonishing that Corneille should have chosen so masculine and
+agitating a subject, than that he should have failed in treating it
+with propriety or success.
+
+In the following tragedy, Dryden has avowedly adopted the Greek model;
+qualified, however, by the under plot of Adrastus and Eurydice, which
+contributes little either to the effect or merit of the play. Creon,
+in his ambition and his deformity, is a poor copy of Richard III.,
+without his abilities; his plots and treasons are baffled by the
+single appearance of OEdipus; and as for the loves and woes of
+Eurydice, and the prince of Argos, they are lost in the horrors of the
+principal story, like the moonlight amid the glare of a conflagration.
+In other respects, the conduct of the piece closely follows the
+"OEdipus Tyrannus," and, in some respects, even improves on that
+excellent model. The Tiresias of Sophocles, for example, upon his
+first introduction, denounces OEdipus as the slayer of Laius, braves
+his resentment, and prophesies his miserable catastrophe. In Dryden's
+play, the first anathema of the prophet is levelled only against the
+unknown murderer; and it is not till the powers of hell have been
+invoked, that even the eye of the prophet can penetrate the horrible
+veil, and fix the guilt decisively upon OEdipus. By this means, the
+striking quarrel betwixt the monarch and Tiresias is, with great art,
+postponed to the third act; and the interest, of course, is more
+gradually heightened than in the Grecian tragedy.
+
+The first and third acts, which were wholly written by Dryden,
+maintain a decided superiority over the rest of the piece. Yet there
+are many excellent passages scattered through Lee's scenes; and as the
+whole was probably corrected by Dryden, the tragedy has the appearance
+of general consistence and uniformity. There are several scenes, in
+which Dryden seems to have indulged his newly adopted desire of
+imitating the stile of Shakespeare. Such are, in particular, the scene
+of OEdipus walking in his sleep, which bears marks of Dryden's pen;
+and such, also, is the incantation in the third act. Seneca and
+Corneille have thrown this last scene into narrative. Yet, by the
+present large size of our stages, and the complete management of light
+and shade, the incantation might be represented with striking effect;
+an advantage which, I fear, has been gained by the sacrifice of
+others, much more essential to the drama, considered as a dignified
+and rational amusement. The incantation itself is nobly written, and
+the ghost of Laius can only be paralleled in Shakespeare.
+
+The language of OEdipus is, in general, nervous, pure, and elegant;
+and the dialogue, though in so high a tone of passion, is natural and
+affecting. Some of Lee's extravagancies are lamentable exceptions to
+this observation. This may be instanced in the passage, where Jocasta
+threatens to fire Olympus, destroy the heavenly furniture, and smoke
+the deities _like bees out of their ambrosial hives_; and such is the
+still more noted wish of OEdipus;
+
+  Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,
+  May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,
+  But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark!
+
+These blemishes, however, are entitled to some indulgence from the
+reader, when they occur in a work of real genius. Those, who do not
+strive at excellence, will seldom fall into absurdity; as he, who is
+contented to walk, is little liable to stumble.
+
+Notwithstanding the admirable disposition of the parts of this play,
+the gradual increase of the interest, and the strong impassioned
+language of the dialogue, the disagreeable nature of the plot forms an
+objection to its success upon a British stage. Distress, which turns
+upon the involutions of unnatural or incestuous passion, carries with
+it something too disgusting for the sympathy of a refined age;
+whereas, in a simple state of society, the feelings require a more
+powerful stimulus; as we see the vulgar crowd round an object of real
+horror, with the same pleasure we reap from seeing it represented on a
+theatre. Besides, in ancient times, in those of the Roman empire at
+least, such abominations really occurred, as sanctioned the story of
+OEdipus. But the change of manners has introduced not only greater
+purity of moral feeling, but a sensibility, which retreats with
+abhorrence even from a fiction turning upon such circumstances. Hence,
+Garrick, who well knew the taste of an English audience, renounced his
+intention of reviving the excellent old play of "King and no King;"
+and hence Massinger's still more awful tragedy of "The Unnatural
+Combat," has been justly deemed unfit for a modern stage. Independent
+of this disgusting circumstance, it may be questioned Whether the
+horror of this tragedy is not too powerful for furnishing mere
+amusement? It is said in the "Companion to the Playhouse," that when
+the piece was performing at Dublin, a musician, in the orchestra, was
+so powerfully affected by the madness of OEdipus, as to become himself
+actually delirious: and though this may be exaggerated, it is certain,
+that, when the play was revived about thirty years ago, the audience
+were unable to support it to an end; the boxes being all emptied
+before the third act was concluded. Among all our English plays, there
+is none more determinedly bloody than "OEdipus," in its progress and
+conclusion. The entrance of the unfortunate king, with his eyes torn
+from their sockets, is too disgusting for representation[3]. Of all
+the persons of the drama, scarce one survives the fifth act. OEdipus
+dashes out his brains, Jocasta stabs herself, their children are
+strangled, Creon kills Eurydice, Adrastus kills Creon, and the
+insurgents kill Adrastus; when we add to this, that the conspirators
+are hanged, the reader will perceive, that the play, which began with
+a pestilence, concludes with a massacre,
+
+  And darkness is the burier of the dead.
+
+Another objection to OEdipus has been derived from the doctrine of
+fatalism, inculcated by the story. There is something of cant in
+talking much upon the influence of a theatre on public morals; yet, I
+fear, though the most moral plays are incapable of doing much good,
+the turn of others may make a mischievous impression, by embodying in
+verse, and rendering apt for the memory, maxims of an impious or
+profligate tendency. In this point of view, there is, at least, no
+edification in beholding the horrible crimes unto which OEdipus is
+unwillingly plunged, and in witnessing the dreadful punishment he
+sustains, though innocent of all moral or intentional guilt, Corneille
+has endeavoured to counterbalance the obvious conclusion, by a long
+tirade upon free-will, which I have subjoined, as it contains some
+striking ideas.[4] But the doctrine, which it expresses, is
+contradictory of the whole tenor of the story; and the correct
+deduction is much more justly summed up by Seneca, in the stoical
+maxim of necessity:
+
+  _Fatis agimur, cedite Fatis;
+  Non solicitæ possunt curæ,
+  Mutare rati stamina fusi;
+  Quicquid patimur mortale genus,
+  Quicquid facimus venit ex alto;
+  Servatque sua decreta colus,
+  Lachesis dura revoluta manu._
+
+Some degree of poetical justice might have been preserved, and a
+valuable moral inculcated, had the conduct of OEdipus, in his combat
+with Laius, been represented as atrocious, or, at least,
+unwarrantable; as the sequel would then have been a warning, how
+impossible it is to calculate the consequences or extent of a single
+act of guilt. But, after all, Dryden perhaps extracts the true moral,
+while stating our insufficiency to estimate the distribution of good
+and evil in human life, in a passage, which, in excellent poetry,
+expresses more sound truth, than a whole shelf of philosophers:
+
+  The Gods are just--
+  But how can finite measure infinite?
+  Reason! alas, it does not know itself!
+  Yet man, vain man, would, with this, short-lined plummet,
+  Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.
+  Whatever is, is in its causes just,
+  Since all things are by fate. But purblind man
+  Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;
+  His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,
+  That poises all above.--
+
+The prologue states, that the play, if damned, may be recorded as the
+"first buried since the Woollen Act." This enables us to fix the date
+of the performance. By the 30th Charles II. cap. 3. all persons were
+appointed to be buried in woollen after 1st August, 1678. The play
+must therefore have been represented early in the season 1678-9. It
+was not printed until 1679.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Nero is said to have represented the character of OEdipus, amongst
+   others of the same horrible cast.--_Suetonius,_ Lib. VI. Cap. 21.
+
+2. Thus Seneca is justly ridiculed by Dacier, for sending Laius forth
+   with a numerous party of guards, to avoid the indecorum of a king
+   going abroad too slenderly attended. The guards lose their way
+   within a league of their master's capital; and, by this awkward
+   contrivance, their absence is accounted for, when he is met by
+   OEdipus.
+
+3. Voltaire, however, held a different opinion. He thought a powerful
+   effect might be produced by the exhibition of the blind king,
+   indistinctly seen in the back ground, amid the shrieks of Jocasta,
+   and the exclamations of the Thebans; provided the actor was capable
+   of powerful gesture, and of expressing much passion, with little
+   declamation.
+
+4.   _Quoi! la necessite des vertus et des vices
+     D'un astre imperieux doit suivre les caprices?
+     Et Delphes malgré nous conduit nos actions
+     Au plus bizarre effet de ses predictions?
+     L'ame est donc toute esclave; une loi soveraine
+     Vers le bien ou le mal incessamment l'entraine;
+     Et nous recevons ni crainte ni desir,
+     De cette liberté qui n'a rien a choisir;
+     Attachés sans relache á cet ordre sublime,
+     Vertueux sans merite, et vicieux sans crime;
+     Qu'on massare les rois, qu'on brise les autels,
+     C'est la faute des dieux, et non pas des mortels;
+     De toute la vertu sur la terre epandue
+     Tout le prix ces dieux, toute la gloire est due;
+     Ils agissent en nous, quand nous pensons agir,
+     Alons qu'on delibere, on ne fait qu'obeir;
+     Et notre volonté n'aime, hait, cherche, evite,
+     Que suivant que d'en haut leur bras la precipite!
+       D'un tel aveuglement daignez me dispenser
+     Le ciel juste a punir, juste a recompenser,
+     Pour rendre aux actions leur peine ou leur salaire,
+     Doit nous offrir son aide et puis nous laisser faire._
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+Though it be dangerous to raise too great an expectation, especially
+in works of this nature, where we are to please an insatiable
+audience, yet it is reasonable to prepossess them in favour of an
+author; and therefore, both the prologue and epilogue informed you,
+that OEdipus was the most celebrated piece of all antiquity; that
+Sophocles, not only the greatest wit, but one of the greatest men in
+Athens, made it for the stage at the public cost; and that it had the
+reputation of being his masterpiece, not only among the seven of his
+which are still remaining, but of the greater number which are
+perished. Aristotle has more than once admired it, in his Book of
+Poetry; Horace has mentioned it: Lucullus, Julius Cæsar, and other
+noble Romans, have written on the same subject, though their poems are
+wholly lost; but Seneca's is still preserved. In our own age,
+Corneille has attempted it, and, it appears by his preface, with great
+success. But a judicious reader will easily observe, how much the copy
+is inferior to the original. He tells you himself, that he owes a
+great part of his success, to the happy episode of Theseus and Dirce;
+which is the same thing, as if we should acknowledge, that we were
+indebted for our good fortune to the under-plot of Adrastus, Eurydice,
+and Creon. The truth is, he miserably failed in the character of his
+hero: If he desired that OEdipus should be pitied, he should have made
+him a better man. He forgot, that Sophocles had taken care to show
+him, in his first entrance, a just, a merciful, a successful, a
+religious prince, and, in short, a father of his country. Instead of
+these, he has drawn him suspicious, designing, more anxious of keeping
+the Theban crown, than solicitous for the safety of his people;
+hectored by Theseus, condemned by Dirce, and scarce maintaining a
+second part in his own tragedy. This was an error in the first
+concoction; and therefore never to be mended in the second or the
+third. He introduced a greater hero than OEdipus himself; for when
+Theseus was once there, that companion of Hercules must yield to none.
+The poet was obliged to furnish him with business, to make him an
+equipage suitable to his dignity; and, by following him too close, to
+lose his other king of Brentford in the crowd. Seneca, on the other
+side, as if there were no such thing as nature to be minded in a play,
+is always running after pompous expression, pointed sentences, and
+philosophical notions, more proper for the study than the stage: the
+Frenchman followed a wrong scent; and the Roman was absolutely at cold
+hunting. All we could gather out of Corneille was, that an episode
+must be, but not his way: and Seneca supplied us with no new hint, but
+only a relation which he makes of his Tiresias raising the ghost of
+Laius; which is here performed in view of the audience,--the rites and
+ceremonies, so far his, as he agreed with antiquity, and the religion
+of the Greeks. But he himself was beholden to Homer's Tiresias, in the
+"Odysses," for some of them; and the rest have been collected from
+Heliodore's "Ethiopiques," and Lucan's Erictho[1]. Sophocles, indeed,
+is admirable everywhere; and therefore we have followed him as close
+as possibly we could. But the Athenian theatre, (whether more perfect
+than ours, is not now disputed,) had a perfection differing from ours.
+You see there in every act a single scene, (or two at most,) which
+manage the business of the play; and after that succeeds the chorus,
+which commonly takes up more time in singing, than there has been
+employed in speaking. The principal person appears almost constantly
+through the play; but the inferior parts seldom above once in the
+whole tragedy. The conduct of our stage is much more difficult, where
+we are obliged never to lose any considerable character, which we have
+once presented. Custom likewise has obtained, that we must form an
+under-plot of second persons, which must be depending on the first;
+and their by-walks must be like those in a labyrinth, which all of
+them lead into the great parterre; or like so many several lodging
+chambers, which have their outlets into the same gallery. Perhaps,
+after all, if we could think so, the ancient method, as it is the
+easiest, is also the most natural, and the best. For variety, as it is
+managed, is too often subject to breed distraction; and while we would
+please too many ways, for want of art in the conduct, we please in
+none[2]. But we have given you more already than was necessary for a
+preface; and, for aught we know, may gain no more by our instructions,
+than that politic nation is like to do, who have taught their enemies
+to fight so long, that at last they are in a condition to invade
+them[3].
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Heliodorus, bishop of Trica, wrote a romance in Greek, called the
+   "Ethiopiques," containing the amours of Theagenes and Chariclea. He
+   was so fond of this production, that, the option being proposed to
+   him by a synod, he rather chose to resign his bishopric than
+   destroy his work. There occurs a scene of incantation in this
+   romance. The story of Lucan's witch occurs in the sixth book of the
+   Pharsalia.
+
+   Dryden has judiciously imitated Seneca, in representing necromancy
+   as the last resort of Tiresias, after all milder modes of augury
+   had failed.
+
+2. It had been much to be wished, that our author had preferred his
+   own better judgment, and the simplicity of the Greek plot, to
+   compliance with this foolish custom.
+
+3. This seems to allude to the French, who, after having repeatedly
+   reduced the Dutch to extremity, were about this period defeated by
+   the Prince of Orange, in the battle of Mons. See the next note.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  When Athens all the Grecian slate did guide,
+  And Greece gave laws to all the world beside;
+  Then Sophocles with Socrates did sit,
+  Supreme in wisdom one, and one in wit:
+  And wit from wisdom differed not in those,
+  But as 'twas sung in verse, or said in prose.
+  Then, OEdipus, on crowded theatres,
+  Drew all admiring eyes and list'ning ears:
+  The pleased spectator shouted every line,
+  The noblest, manliest, and the best design!
+  And every critic of each learned age,
+  By this just model has reformed the stage.
+  Now, should it fail, (as heaven avert our fear!)
+  Damn it in silence, lest the world should hear.
+  For were it known this poem did not please,
+  You might set up for perfect savages:
+  Your neighbours would not look on you as men,
+  But think the nation all turned Picts again.
+  Faith, as you manage matters, 'tis not fit
+  You should suspect yourselves of too much wit:
+  Drive not the jest too far, but spare this piece;
+  And, for this once, be not more wise than Greece.
+  See twice! do not pell-mell to damning fall,
+  Like true-born Britons, who ne'er think at all:
+  Pray be advised; and though at Mons[1] you won,
+  On pointed cannon do not always run.
+  With some respect to ancient wit proceed;
+  You take the four first councils for your creed.
+  But, when you lay tradition wholly by,
+  And on the private spirit alone rely,
+  You turn fanatics in your poetry.
+  If, notwithstanding all that we can say,
+  You needs will have your penn'orths of the play,
+  And come resolved to damn, because you pay,
+  Record it, in memorial of the fact,
+  The first play buried since the woollen act.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. On the 17th of August, 1678, the Prince of Orange, afterwards
+   William III. marched to the attack of the French army, which
+   blockaded Mons, and lay secured by the most formidable
+   entrenchments. Notwithstanding a powerful and well-served
+   artillery, the duke of Luxemburgh was forced to abandon his
+   trenches, and retire with great loss. The English and Scottish
+   regiments, under the gallant earl of Ossory, had their full share
+   in the glory of the day. It is strongly suspected, that the Prince
+   of Orange, when he undertook this perilous atchievement, knew that
+   a peace had been signed betwixt France and the States, though the
+   intelligence was not made public till next day. Carleton says, that
+   the troops, when drawn up for the attack, supposed the purpose was
+   to fire a _feu-de-joie_ for the conclusion of the war. The
+   enterprize, therefore, though successful, was needless as well as
+   desperate, and merited Dryden's oblique censure.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  OEDIPUS, _King of Thebes._
+  ADRASTUS, _Prince of Argos._
+  CREON, _Brother to_ JOCASTA.
+  TIRESIAS, _a blind Prophet._
+  HÆMON, _Captain of the Guard._
+  ALCANDER, }
+  DIOCLES,  } _Lords of_ CREON'S _faction._
+  PYRACMON, }
+  PHORBAS, _an old Shepherd._
+  DYMAS, _the Messenger returned from Delphos._
+  ÆGEON, _the Corinthian Embassador._
+  _Ghost of_ LAIUS, _the late King of Thebes._
+
+  JOCASTA, _Queen of Thebes._
+  EURYDICE, _her Daughter, by_ LAIUS, _her first husband._
+  MANTO, _Daughter of_ TIRESIAS.
+
+  _Priests, Citizens, Attendants,_ &c.
+
+SCENE--_Thebes._
+
+
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Curtain rises to a plaintive Tune, representing the
+  present condition of Thebes; dead Bodies appear at a distance in the
+  Streets; some faintly go over the Stage, others drop._
+
+  _Enter_ ALCANDER, DIOCLES, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Alc._ Methinks we stand on ruins; nature shakes
+About us; and the universal frame
+So loose, that it but wants another push,
+To leap from off its hinges.
+
+_Dioc._ No sun to cheer us; but a bloody globe,
+That rolls above, a bald and beamless fire,
+His face o'er-grown with scurf: The sun's sick, too;
+Shortly he'll be an earth.
+
+_Pyr._ Therefore the seasons
+Lie all confused; and, by the heavens neglected,
+Forget themselves: Blind winter meets the summer
+In his mid-way, and, seeing not his livery,
+Has driven him headlong back; and the raw damps,
+With flaggy wings, fly heavily about,
+Scattering their pestilential colds and rheums
+Through all the lazy air.
+
+_Alc._ Hence murrains followed
+On bleating flocks, and on the lowing herds:
+At last, the malady
+Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog
+Died at his master's feet[1].
+
+_Dioc._ And next, his master:
+For all those plagues, which earth and air had brooded,
+First on inferior creatures tried their force,
+And last they seized on man.
+
+_Pyr._ And then a thousand deaths at once advanced,
+And every dart took place; all was so sudden,
+That scarce a first man fell; one but began
+To wonder, and straight fell a wonder too;
+A third, who stooped to raise his dying friend,
+Dropt in the pious act.--Heard you that groan?        [_Groan within._
+
+_Dioc._ A troop of ghosts took flight together there.
+Now death's grown riotous, and will play no more
+For single stakes, but families and tribes.
+How are we sure we breathe not now our last,
+And that, next minute,
+Our bodies, cast into some common pit,
+Shall not be built upon, and overlaid
+By half a people?
+
+_Alc._ There's a chain of causes
+Linked to effects; invincible necessity,
+That whate'er is, could not but so have been;
+That's my security.
+
+  _To them, enter_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ So had it need, when all our streets lie covered
+With dead and dying men;
+And earth exposes bodies on the pavements,
+More than she hides in graves.
+Betwixt the bride and bridegroom have I seen
+The nuptial torch do common offices
+Of marriage and of death.
+
+_Dioc._ Now OEdipus
+(If he return from war, our other plague)
+Will scarce find half he left, to grace his triumphs.
+
+_Pyr._ A feeble pæan will be sung before him.
+
+_Alc._ He would do well to bring the wives and children
+Of conquered Argians, to renew his Thebes.
+
+_Cre._ May funerals meet him at the city gates,
+With their detested omen!
+
+_Dioc._ Of his children.
+
+_Cre._ Nay, though she be my sister, of his wife.
+
+_Alc._ O that our Thebes might once again behold
+A monarch, Theban born!
+
+_Dioc._ We might have had one.
+
+_Pyr._ Yes, had the people pleased.
+
+_Cre._ Come, you are my friends:
+The queen my sister, after Laius' death,
+Feared to lie single; and supplied his place
+With a young successor.
+
+_Dioc._ He much resembles
+Her former husband too.
+
+_Alc._ I always thought so.
+
+_Pyr._ When twenty winters more have grizzled his black locks,
+He will be very Laius.
+
+_Cre._ So he will.
+Meantime, she stands provided of a Laius,
+More young, and vigorous too, by twenty springs.
+These women are such cunning purveyors!
+Mark, where their appetites have once been pleased,
+The same resemblance, in a younger lover,
+Lies brooding in their fancies the same pleasures,
+And urges their remembrance to desire.
+
+_Dioc._ Had merit, not her dotage, been considered;
+Then Creon had been king; but OEdipus,
+A stranger!
+
+_Cre._ That word, _stranger_, I confess,
+Sounds harshly in my ears.
+
+_Dioc._ We are your creatures.
+The people, prone, as in all general ills,
+To sudden change; the king, in wars abroad;
+The queen, a woman weak and unregarded;
+Eurydice, the daughter of dead Laius,
+A princess young and beauteous, and unmarried,--
+Methinks, from these disjointed propositions,
+Something might be produced.
+
+_Cre._ The gods have done
+Their part, by sending this commodious plague.
+But oh, the princess! her hard heart is shut
+By adamantine locks against my love.
+
+_Alc._ Your claim to her is strong; you are betrothed.
+
+_Pyr._ True, in her nonage.
+
+_Dioc._ I heard the prince of Argos, young Adrastus,
+When he was hostage here--
+
+_Cre._ Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes.
+That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms
+Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness,
+To please a woman yet more fool than he.
+That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form.
+And empty noise, and loves itself in man.
+
+_Alc._ But since the war broke out about our frontiers,
+He's now a foe to Thebes.
+
+_Cre._ But is not so to her. See, she appears;
+Once more I'll prove my fortune. You insinuate
+Kind thoughts of me into the multitude;
+Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom;
+And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad,
+As if the breeze had stung them.
+
+_Dioc._ We'll about it.                [_Exeunt_ ALC. DIOC. _and_ PYR.
+
+  _Enter_ EURYDICE.
+
+_Cre._ Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice,
+A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born,
+And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven,
+Thou seem'st more heaven's than ours.
+
+_Eur._ Cast round your eyes,
+Where late the streets were so thick sown with men,
+Like Cadmus' brood, they jostled for the passage;
+Now look for those erected heads, and see them,
+Like pebbles, paving all our public ways;
+When you have thought on this, then answer me,--
+If these be hours of courtship?
+
+_Cre._ Yes, they are;
+For when the gods destroy so fast, 'tis time
+We should renew the race.
+
+_Eur._ What, in the midst of horror?
+
+_Cre._ Why not then?
+There's the more need of comfort.
+
+_Eur._ Impious Creon!
+
+_Cre._ Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me
+Of love, which is heaven's precept, and not fear
+That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes,
+Should reach your perjuries?
+
+_Eur._ Still the old argument.
+I bade you cast your eyes on other men,
+Now cast them on yourself; think what you are.
+
+_Cre._ A man.
+
+_Eur._ A man!
+
+_Cre._ Why, doubt you I'm a man?
+
+_Eur._ 'Tis well you tell me so; I should mistake you
+For any other part o'the whole creation,
+Rather than think you man. Hence from my sight,
+Thou poison to my eyes!
+
+_Cre._ 'Twas you first poisoned mine; and yet, methinks,
+My face and person should not make you sport.
+
+_Eur._ You force me, by your importunities,
+To shew you what you are.
+
+_Cre._ A prince, who loves you;
+And, since your pride provokes me, worth your love.
+Even at its highest value.
+
+_Eur._ Love from thee!
+Why love renounced thee ere thou saw'st the light;
+Nature herself start back when thou wert born,
+And cried,--the work's not mine.
+The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw
+Thy mountain back, and thy distorted legs,
+Thy face itself;
+Half-minted with the royal stamp of man,
+And half o'ercome with beast, stood doubting long,
+Whose right in thee were more;
+And knew not, if to burn thee in the flames
+Were not the holier work.
+
+_Cre._ Am I to blame, if nature threw my body
+In so perverse a mould? yet when she cast
+Her envious hand upon my supple joints,
+Unable to resist, and rumpled them
+On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge
+Her bungled work, she stampt my mind more fair;
+And as from chaos, huddled and deformed,
+The god struck fire, and lighted up the lamps
+That beautify the sky, so he informed
+This ill-shaped body with a daring soul;
+And, making less than man, he made me more.
+
+_Eur._ No; thou art all one error, soul and body;
+The first young trial of some unskilled power,
+Rude in the making art, and ape of Jove.
+Thy crooked mind within hunched out thy back,
+And wandered in thy limbs. To thy own kind
+Make love, if thou canst find it in the world;
+And seek not from our sex to raise an offspring,
+Which, mingled with the rest, would tempt the gods,
+To cut off human kind.
+
+_Cre._ No; let them leave
+The Argian prince for you. That enemy
+Of Thebes has made you false, and break the vows
+You made to me.
+
+_Eur._ They were my mother's vows,
+Made when I was at nurse.
+
+_Cre._ But hear me, maid:
+This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon,
+Is master of a sword, to reach the blood
+Of your young minion, spoil the gods' fine work,
+And stab you in his heart.
+
+_Eur._ This when thou dost,
+Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me;
+And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed;
+And let his ghost--No, let his ghost have rest--
+But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury,
+Let Creon haunt himself.                                  [_Exit_ EUR.
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis true, I am
+What she has told me--an offence to sight:
+My body opens inward to my soul,
+And lets in day to make my vices seen
+By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar.
+I must make haste, ere OEdipus return,
+To snatch the crown and her--for I still love,
+But love with malice. As an angry cur
+Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch
+The hunger of my love on this proud beauty,
+And leave the scraps for slaves.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, and led by his Daughter_
+  MANTO.
+
+What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad?
+Would his Apollo had him! he's too holy
+For earth and me; I'll shun his walk, and seek
+My popular friends.                                     [_Exit_ CREON.
+
+_Tir._ A little farther; yet a little farther,
+Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man,
+Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest
+For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not,
+With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay;
+Methinks I draw more open, vital air.
+Where are we?
+
+_Man._ Under covert of a wall;
+The most frequented once, and noisy part
+Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here,
+And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet.
+
+_Tir._ If there be nigh this place a sunny bank,
+There let me rest awhile:--A sunny bank!
+Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines,
+But a dim winking taper in the skies,
+That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head,
+To glimmer through the damps!      [_A Noise within._ Follow, follow,
+                                    follow! A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon's name
+Thrice echoed.
+
+_Man._ Fly, the tempest drives this way.
+
+_Tir._ Whither can age and blindness take their flight?
+If I could fly, what could I suffer worse,
+Secure of greater ills?           [_Noise again,_ Creon, Creon, Creon!
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, DIOCLES, ALCANDER, PYRACMON; _followed by the Crowd._
+
+_Cre._ I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse
+The honours you intend me; they're too great,
+And I am too unworthy; think again,
+And make a better choice.
+
+_1 Cit._ Think twice! I ne'er thought twice in all my life;
+That's double work.
+
+_2 Cit._ My first word is always my second; and therefore I'll have no
+second word; and therefore, once again, I say, A Creon!
+
+_All._ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+
+_Cre._ Yet hear me, fellow-citizens.
+
+_Dioc._ Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness!
+
+_Alc._ When did OEdipus salute you by that familiar name?
+
+_1 Cit._ Never, never; he was too proud.
+
+_Cre._ Indeed he could not, for he was a stranger;
+But under him our Thebes is half destroyed.
+Forbid it, heaven, the residue should perish
+Under a Theban born!
+'Tis true, the gods might send this plague among you,
+Because a stranger ruled; but what of that?
+Can I redress it now?
+
+_3 Cit._ Yes, you or none.
+'Tis certain that the gods are angry with us,
+Because he reigns.
+
+_Cre._ OEdipus may return; you may be ruined.
+
+_1 Cit._ Nay, if that be the matter, we are ruined already.
+
+_2 Cit._ Half of us, that are here present, were living men but
+yesterday; and we, that are absent, do but drop and drop, and no man
+knows whether he be dead or living. And therefore, while we are sound
+and well, let us satisfy our consciences, and make a new king.
+
+_3 Cit._ Ha, if we were but worthy to see another coronation! and
+then, if we must die, we'll go merrily together.
+
+_All._ To the question, to the question.
+
+_Dioc._ Are you content, Creon should be your king?
+
+_All_ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+
+_Tir._ Hear me, ye Thebans, and thou Creon, hear me.
+
+_1 Cit._ Who's that would be heard? we'll hear no man; we can scarce
+hear one another.
+
+_Tir._ I charge you, by the gods, to hear me.
+
+_2 Cit._ Oh, it is Apollo's priest, we must hear him; it is the old
+blind prophet, that sees all things.
+
+_3 Cit._ He comes from the gods too, and they are our betters; and, in
+good manners, we must hear him:--Speak, prophet.
+
+_2 Cit._ For coming from the gods, that's no great matter, they can
+all say that: but he is a great scholar; he can make almanacks, an' he
+were put to it; and therefore I say, hear him.
+
+_Tir._ When angry heaven scatters its plagues among you,
+Is it for nought, ye Thebans? are the gods
+Unjust in punishing? are there no crimes,
+Which pull this vengeance down?
+
+_1 Cit._ Yes, yes; no doubt there are some sins stirring, that are the
+cause of all.
+
+_3 Cit._ Yes, there are sins, or we should have no taxes.
+
+_2 Cit._ For my part, I can speak it with a safe conscience, I never
+sinned in all my life.
+
+_1 Cit._ Nor I.
+
+_3 Cit._ Nor I.
+
+_2 Cit._ Then we are all justified; the sin lies not at our doors.
+
+_Tir._ All justified alike, and yet all guilty!
+Were every man's false dealing brought to light,
+His envy, malice, lying, perjuries,
+His weights and measures, the other man's extortions,
+With what face could you tell offended heaven,
+You had not sinned?
+
+_2 Cit._ Nay, if these be sins, the case is altered; for my part, I
+never thought any thing but murder had been a sin.
+
+_Tir._ And yet, as if all these were less than nothing,
+You add rebellion to them, impious Thebans!
+Have you not sworn before the gods to serve
+And to obey this OEdipus, your king
+By public voice elected? answer me,
+If this be true!
+
+_2 Cit._ This is true; but its a hard world, neighbours,
+If a man's oath must be his master.
+
+_Cre._ Speak, Diocles; all goes wrong.
+
+_Dioc._ How are you traitors, countrymen of Thebes?
+This holy sire, who presses you with oaths,
+Forgets your first; were you not sworn before
+To Laius and his blood?
+
+_All._ We were; we were.
+
+_Dioc._ While Laius has a lawful successor,
+Your first oath still must bind: Eurydice
+Is heir to Laius; let her marry Creon.
+Offended heaven will never be appeased,
+While OEdipus pollutes the throne of Laius,
+A stranger to his blood.
+
+_All._ We'll no OEdipus, no OEdipus.
+
+_1 Cit._ He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.
+
+_2 Cit._ I knew it would be so; the last man ever speaks the best
+reason.
+
+_Tir._ Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans!
+Remember yet, when, after Laius' death,
+The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste,
+Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew,
+Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls;
+She, taller than your gates, o'er-looked your town;
+But when she raised her bulk to sail above you,
+She drove the air around her like a whirlwind,
+And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down,
+She clap'd her leathern wing against your towers,
+And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors[2].
+
+_Dioc. Alc. Pyr._ We'll hear no more.
+
+_Tir._ You durst not meet in temples,
+To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he,
+Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared[3] lark:
+This Creon shook for fear,
+The blood of Laius curdled in his veins,
+'Till OEdipus arrived.
+Called by his own high courage and the gods,
+Himself to you a god, ye offered him
+Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!)
+And heaven authorized it by his success.
+Speak then, who is your lawful king?
+
+_All._ 'Tis OEdipus.
+
+_Tir._ 'Tis OEdipus indeed: Your king more lawful
+Than yet you dream; for something still there lies
+In heaven's dark volume, which I read through mists:
+'Tis great, prodigious; 'tis a dreadful birth,
+Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing.
+I see, I see! how terrible it dawns,
+And my soul sickens with it!
+
+_1 Cit._ How the god shakes him!
+
+_Tir._ He comes, he comes! Victory! conquest! triumph!
+But oh! guiltless and guilty: murder! parricide!
+Incest! discovery! punishment--'tis ended,
+And all your sufferings o'er.
+
+  _A Trumpet within: enter_ HÆMON.
+
+_Hæm._ Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your _Io Pæans_!
+Your king returns; the Argians are o'ercome;
+Their warlike prince in single combat taken,
+And led in bands by god-like OEdipus!
+
+_All._ OEdipus, OEdipus, OEdipus!
+
+_Creon._ Furies confound his fortune!--                      [_Aside._
+Haste, all haste,                                          [_To them._
+And meet with blessings our victorious king;
+Decree processions; bid new holidays;
+Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands;
+And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed,--
+_To OEdipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes._
+Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.
+
+_Tir._ Yes, heaven knows why thou weep'st.--Go, countrymen,
+And, as you use to supplicate your gods,
+So meet your king with bays, and olive branches;
+Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him
+An end of all your woes; for only he
+Can give it you.             [_Exit_ TIRESIAS, _the People following._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _in triumph;_ ADRASTUS _prisoner;_ DYMAS, _Train._
+
+_Cre._ All hail, great OEdipus!
+Thou mighty conqueror, hail; welcome to Thebes;
+To thy own Thebes; to all that's left of Thebes;
+For half thy citizens are swept away,
+And wanting for thy triumphs;
+And we, the happy remnant, only live
+To welcome thee, and die.
+
+_OEdip._ Thus pleasure never comes sincere to man,
+But lent by heaven upon hard usury;
+And while Jove holds us out the bowl of joy,
+Ere it can reach our lips, 'tis dashed with gall
+By some left-handed god. O mournful triumph!
+O conquest gained abroad, and lost at home!
+O Argos, now rejoice, for Thebes lies low!
+Thy slaughtered sons now smile, and think they won,
+When they can count more Theban ghosts than theirs.
+
+_Adr._ No; Argos mourns with Thebes; you tempered so
+Your courage while you fought, that mercy seemed
+The manlier virtue, and much more prevailed;
+While Argos is a people, think your Thebes
+Can never want for subjects. Every nation
+Will crowd to serve where OEdipus commands.
+
+_Cre._ [_To_ HÆM.]
+How mean it shews, to fawn upon the victor!
+
+_Hæm._ Had you beheld him fight, you had said otherwise.
+Come, 'tis brave bearing in him, not to envy
+Superior virtue.
+
+_OEdip._ This indeed is conquest,
+To gain a friend like you: Why were we foes?
+
+_Adr._ 'Cause we were kings, and each disdained an equal.
+I fought to have it in my power to do
+What thou hast done, and so to use my conquest.
+To shew thee, honour was my only motive,
+Know this, that were my army at thy gates,
+And Thebes thus waste, I would not take the gift,
+Which, like a toy dropt from the hands of fortune,
+Lay for the next chance-comer.
+
+_OEdip._ [_Embracing._] No more captive,
+But brother of the war. 'Tis much more pleasant,
+And safer, trust me, thus to meet thy love,
+Than when hard gauntlets clenched our warlike hands,
+And kept them from soft use.
+
+_Adr._ My conqueror!
+
+_OEdip._ My friend! that other name keeps enmity alive.
+But longer to detain thee were a crime;
+To love, and to Eurydice, go free.
+Such welcome, as a ruined town can give,
+Expect from me; the rest let her supply.
+
+_Adr._ I go without a blush, though conquered twice,
+By you, and by my princess.                          [_Exit_ ADRASTUS.
+
+_Cre._ [_Aside._] Then I am conquered thrice; by OEdipus,
+And her, and even by him, the slave of both.
+Gods, I'm beholden to you, for making me your image;
+Would I could make you mine!                            [_Exit_ CREON.
+
+  _Enter the People with branches in their hands, holding them up, and
+  kneeling: Two Priests before them._
+
+_OEdip._ Alas, my people!
+What means this speechless sorrow, downcast eyes,
+And lifted hands? If there be one among you,
+Whom grief has left a tongue, speak for the rest.
+
+_1 Pr._ O father of thy country!
+To thee these knees are bent, these eyes are lifted,
+As to a visible divinity;
+A prince, on whom heaven safely might repose
+The business of mankind; for Providence
+Might on thy careful bosom sleep secure,
+And leave her task to thee.
+But where's the glory of thy former acts?
+Even that's destroyed, when none shall live to speak it.
+Millions of subjects shalt thou have; but mute.
+A people of the dead; a crowded desert;
+A midnight silence at the noon of day.
+
+_OEdip._ O were our gods as ready with their pity,
+As I with mine, this presence should be thronged
+With all I left alive; and my sad eyes
+Not search in vain for friends, whose promised sight
+Flattered my toils of war.
+
+_1 Pr._ Twice our deliverer!
+
+_OEdip._ Nor are now your vows
+Addrest to one who sleeps.
+When this unwelcome news first reached my ears,
+Dymas was sent to Delphos, to enquire
+The cause and cure of this contagious ill,
+And is this day returned; but, since his message
+Concerns the public, I refused to hear it
+But in this general presence: Let him speak.
+
+_Dym._ A dreadful answer from the hallowed urn,
+And sacred tripos, did the priestess give,
+In these mysterious words.
+
+_The Oracle._ _Shed in a cursed hour, by cursed hand,
+Blood-royal unrevenged has cursed the land.
+When Laius' death is expiated well,
+Your plague shall cease. The rest let Laius tell._
+
+_OEdip._ Dreadful indeed! Blood, and a king's blood too!
+And such a king's, and by his subjects shed!
+(Else why this curse on Thebes?) No wonder then
+If monsters, wars, and plagues, revenge such crimes!
+If heaven be just, its whole artillery,
+All must be emptied on us: Not one bolt
+Shall err from Thebes; but more be called for, more;
+New-moulded thunder of a larger size,
+Driven by whole Jove. What, touch anointed power!
+Then, Gods, beware; Jove would himself be next,
+Could you but reach him too.
+
+_2 Pr._ We mourn the sad remembrance.
+
+_OEdip._ Well you may;
+Worse than a plague infects you: You're devoted
+To mother earth, and to the infernal powers;
+Hell has a right in you. I thank you, gods,
+That I'm no Theban born: How my blood curdles!
+As if this curse touched me, and touched me nearer
+Than all this presence!--Yes, 'tis a king's blood,
+And I, a king, am tied in deeper bonds
+To expiate this blood. But where, from whom,
+Or how must I atone it? Tell me, Thebans,
+How Laius fell; for a confused report
+Passed through my ears, when first I took the crown;
+But full of hurry, like a morning dream,
+It vanished in the business of the day.[4]
+
+_1 Pr._ He went in private forth, but thinly followed,
+And ne'er returned to Thebes.
+
+_OEdip._ Nor any from him? came there no attendant?
+None to bring news?
+
+_2 Pr._ But one; and he so wounded,
+He scarce drew breath to speak some few faint words.
+
+_OEdip._ What were they? something may be learnt from thence.
+
+_1 Pr._ He said, a band of robbers watched their passage,
+Who took advantage of a narrow way,
+To murder Laius and the rest; himself
+Left too for dead.
+
+_OEdip._ Made you no more enquiry,
+But took this bare relation?
+
+_2 Pr._ 'Twas neglected;
+For then the monster Sphinx began to rage,
+And present cares soon buried the remote:
+So was it hushed, and never since revived.
+
+_OEdip._ Mark, Thebans, mark!
+Just then, the Sphinx began to rage among you;
+The gods took hold even of the offending minute,
+And dated thence your woes: Thence will I trace them.
+
+_1 Pr._ 'Tis just thou should'st.
+
+_OEdip._ Hear then this dreadful imprecation; hear it;
+'Tis laid on all; not any one exempt:
+Bear witness, heaven, avenge it on the perjured!
+If any Theban born, if any stranger
+Reveal this murder, or produce its author,
+Ten attick talents be his just reward:
+But if, for fear, for favour, or for hire,
+The murderer he conceal, the curse of Thebes
+Fall heavy on his head: Unite our plagues,
+Ye gods, and place them there: From fire and water,
+Converse, and all things common, be he banished.
+But for the murderer's self, unfound by man,
+Find him, ye powers celestial and infernal!
+And the same fate, or worse than Laius met,
+Let be his lot: His children be accurst;
+His wife and kindred, all of his, be cursed!
+
+_Both Pr._ Confirm it, heaven!
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA, _attended by Women._
+
+_Joc._ At your devotions? Heaven succeed your wishes;
+And bring the effect of these your pious prayers
+On you, and me, and all.
+
+_Pr._ Avert this omen, heaven!
+
+_OEdip._ O fatal sound! unfortunate Jocasta!
+What hast thou said! an ill hour hast thou chosen
+For these fore-boding words! why, we were cursing!
+
+_Joc._ Then may that curse fall only where you laid it.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak no more!
+For all thou say'st is ominous: We were cursing;
+And that dire imprecation has thou fastened
+On Thebes, and thee, and me, and all of us.
+
+_Joc._ Are then my blessings turned into a curse?
+O unkind OEdipus! My former lord
+Thought me his blessing; be thou like my Laius.
+
+_OEdip._ What, yet again? the third time hast thou cursed me:
+This imprecation was for Laius' death,
+And thou hast wished me like him.
+
+_Joc._ Horror seizes me!
+
+_OEdip._ Why dost thou gaze upon me? pr'ythee, love,
+Take off thy eye; it burdens me too much.
+
+_Joc._ The more I look, the more I find of Laius:
+His speech, his garb, his action; nay, his frown,--
+For I have seen it,--but ne'er bent on me.
+
+_OEdip._ Are we so like?
+
+_Joc._ In all things but his love.
+
+_OEdip._ I love thee more: So well I love, words cannot speak how well.
+No pious son e'er loved his mother more,
+Than I my dear Jocasta.
+
+_Joc._ I love you too
+The self-same way; and when you chid, methought
+A mother's love start[5] up in your defence,
+And bade me not be angry. Be not you;
+For I love Laius still, as wives should love;
+But you more tenderly, as part of me:
+And when I have you in my arms, methinks
+I lull my child asleep.
+
+_OEdip._ Then we are blest;
+And all these curses sweep along the skies
+Like empty clouds, but drop not on our heads.
+
+_Joc._ I have not joyed an hour since you departed,
+For public miseries, and for private fears;
+But this blest meeting has o'er-paid them all.
+Good fortune, that comes seldom, comes more welcome.
+All I can wish for now, is your consent
+To make my brother happy.
+
+_OEdip._ How, Jocasta?
+
+_Joc._ By marriage with his niece, Eurydice.
+
+_OEdip._ Uncle and niece! they are too near, my love;
+'Tis too like incest; 'tis offence to kind:
+Had I not promised, were there no Adrastus,
+No choice but Creon left her of mankind,
+They should not marry: Speak no more of it;
+The thought disturbs me.
+
+_Joc._ Heaven can never bless
+A vow so broken, which I made to Creon;
+Remember, he is my brother.
+
+_OEdip._ That is the bar;
+And she thy daughter: Nature would abhor
+To be forced back again upon herself,
+And, like a whirlpool, swallow her own streams.
+
+_Joc._ Be not displeased: I'll move the suit no more.
+
+_OEdip._ No, do not; for, I know not why, it shakes me,
+When I but think on incest. Move we forward,
+  To thank the gods for my success, and pray
+  To wash the guilt of royal blood away.                    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_An open Gallery. A Royal Bed-chamber being supposed behind.
+
+The Time, Night. Thunder, &c._
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON, ALCANDER, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Hæm._ Sure 'tis the end of all things! fate has torn
+The lock of time off, and his head is now
+The ghastly ball of round eternity!
+Call you these peals of thunder, but the yawn
+Of bellowing clouds? By Jove, they seem to me
+The world's last groans; and those vast sheets of flame
+Are its last blaze. The tapers of the gods,
+The sun and moon, run down like waxen-globes;
+The shooting stars end all in purple jellies[6],
+And chaos is at hand.
+
+_Pyr._ 'Tis midnight, yet there's not a Theban sleeps,
+But such as ne'er must wake. All crowd about
+The palace, and implore, as from a god,
+Help of the king; who, from the battlement,
+By the red lightning's glare descried afar,
+Atones the angry powers.                               [_Thunder, &c._
+
+_Hæm._ Ha! Pyracmon, look;
+Behold, Alcander, from yon' west of heaven,
+The perfect figures of a man and woman;
+A sceptre, bright with gems, in each right hand,
+Their flowing robes of dazzling purple made:
+Distinctly yonder in that point they stand,
+Just west; a bloody red stains all the place;
+And see, their faces are quite hid in clouds.
+
+_Pyr._ Clusters of golden stars hang o'er their heads,
+And seem so crowded, that they burst upon them:
+All dart at once their baleful influence,
+In leaking fire.
+
+_Alc._ Long-bearded comets stick,
+Like flaming porcupines, to their left sides,
+As they would shoot their quills into their hearts.
+
+_Hæm._ But see! the king, and queen, and all the court!
+Did ever day or night shew aught like this?
+                                    [_Thunders again. The Scene draws,
+                                     and discovers the Prodigies._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, EURYDICE, ADRASTUS; _and all coming
+  forward with amazement._
+
+_OEdip._ Answer, you powers divine! spare all this noise,
+This rack of heaven, and speak your fatal pleasure.
+Why breaks yon dark and dusky orb away?
+Why from the bleeding womb of monstrous night,
+Burst forth such myriads of abortive stars?
+Ha! my Jocasta, look! the silver moon!
+A settling crimson stains her beauteous face!
+She's all o'er blood! and look, behold again,
+What mean the mystic heavens she journies on?
+A vast eclipse darkens the labouring planet:--
+Sound there, sound all our instruments of war;
+Clarions and trumpets, silver, brass, and iron,
+And beat a thousand drums, to help her labour.
+
+_Adr._ 'Tis vain; you see the prodigies continue;
+Let's gaze no more, the gods are humorous.
+
+_OEdip._ Forbear, rash man.--Once more I ask your pleasure!
+If that the glow-worm light of human reason
+Might dare to offer at immortal knowledge,
+And cope with gods, why all this storm of nature?
+Why do the rocks split, and why rolls the sea?
+Why those portents in heaven, and plagues on earth?
+Why yon gigantic forms, ethereal monsters?
+Alas! is all this but to fright the dwarfs,
+Which your own hands have made? Then be it so.
+Or if the fates resolve some expiation
+For murdered Laius; hear me, hear me, gods!
+Hear me thus prostrate: Spare this groaning land,
+Save innocent Thebes, stop the tyrant death;
+Do this, and lo, I stand up an oblation,
+To meet your swiftest and severest anger;
+Shoot all at once, and strike me to the centre.
+
+  _The Cloud draws, that veiled the Heads of the Figures in the Sky,
+  and shews them crowned, with the names of_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA,
+  _written above in great characters of gold._
+
+_Adr._ Either I dream, and all my cooler senses
+Are vanished with that cloud that fleets away,
+Or just above those two majestic heads,
+I see, I read distinctly, in large gold,
+_OEdipus and Jocasta._
+
+_Alc._ I read the same.
+
+_Adr._ 'Tis wonderful; yet ought not man to wade
+Too far in the vast deep of destiny.
+                                 [_Thunder; and the Prodigies vanish._
+
+_Joc._ My lord, my OEdipus, why gaze you now,
+When the whole heaven is clear, as if the gods
+Had some new monsters made? will you not turn,
+And bless your people, who devour each word
+You breathe?
+
+_OEdip._ It shall be so.
+Yes, I will die, O Thebes, to save thee!
+Draw from my heart my blood, with more content
+Than e'er I wore thy crown.--Yet, O Jocasta!
+By all the endearments of miraculous love,
+By all our languishings, our fears in pleasure,
+Which oft have made us wonder; here I swear,
+On thy fair hand, upon thy breast I swear,
+I cannot call to mind, from budding childhood
+To blooming youth, a crime by me committed,
+For which the awful gods should doom my death.
+
+_Joc._ 'Tis not you, my lord,
+But he who murdered Laius, frees the land.
+Were you, which is impossible, the man,
+Perhaps my poniard first should drink your blood;
+But you are innocent, as your Jocasta,
+From crimes like those. This made me violent
+To save your life, which you unjust would lose:
+Nor can you comprehend, with deepest thought,
+The horrid agony you cast me in,
+When you resolved to die.
+
+_OEdip._ Is't possible?
+
+_Joc._ Alas! why start you so? Her stiffening grief,
+Who saw her children slaughtered all at once,
+Was dull to mine: Methinks, I should have made
+My bosom bare against the armed god,
+To save my OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ I pray, no more.
+
+_Joc._ You've silenced me, my lord.
+
+_OEdip._ Pardon me, dear Jocasta!
+Pardon a heart that sinks with sufferings,
+And can but vent itself in sobs and murmurs:
+Yet, to restore my peace, I'll find him out.
+Yes, yes, you gods! you shall have ample vengeance
+On Laius' murderer. O, the traitor's name!
+I'll know't, I will; art shall be conjured for it,
+And nature all unravelled.
+
+_Joc._ Sacred sir--
+
+_OEdip._ Rage will have way, and 'tis but just; I'll fetch him,
+Though lodged in air upon a dragon's wing,
+Though rocks should hide him: Nay, he shall be dragged
+From hell, if charms can hurry him along:
+His ghost shall be, by sage Tiresias' power,--
+Tiresias, that rules all beneath the moon,--
+Confined to flesh, to suffer death once more;
+And then be plunged in his first fires again.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ My lord,
+Tiresias attends your pleasure.
+
+_OEdip._ Haste, and bring him in.--
+O, my Jocasta, Eurydice, Adrastus,
+Creon, and all ye Thebans, now the end
+Of plagues, of madness, murders, prodigies,
+Draws on: This battle of the heavens and earth
+Shall by his wisdom be reduced to peace.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, led by his Daughter_ MANTO,
+  _followed by other Thebans._
+
+O thou, whose most aspiring mind
+Knows all the business of the courts above,
+Opens the closets of the gods, and dares
+To mix with Jove himself and Fate at council;
+O prophet, answer me, declare aloud
+The traitor, who conspired the death of Laius;
+Or be they more, who from malignant stars
+Have drawn this plague, that blasts unhappy Thebes?
+
+_Tir._ We must no more than Fate commissions us
+To tell; yet something, and of moment, I'll unfold,
+If that the god would wake; I feel him now,
+Like a strong spirit charmed into a tree,
+That leaps, and moves the wood without a wind:
+The roused god, as all this while he lay
+Entombed alive, starts and dilates himself;
+He struggles, and he tears my aged trunk
+With holy fury; my old arteries burst;
+My rivell'd skin,
+Like parchment, crackles at the hallowed fire;
+I shall be young again:--Manto, my daughter,
+Thou hast a voice that might have saved the bard
+Of Thrace, and forced the raging bacchanals,
+With lifted prongs, to listen to thy airs.
+O charm this god, this fury in my bosom,
+Lull him with tuneful notes, and artful strings,
+With powerful strains; Manto, my lovely child,
+Sooth the unruly godhead to be mild.
+
+        SONG TO APOLLO.
+
+  _Phoebus, god beloved by men,
+  At thy dawn, every beast is roused in his den;
+  At thy setting, all the birds of thy absence complain,
+  And we die, all die, till the morning comes again.
+      Phoebus, god beloved by men!
+      Idol of the eastern kings,
+      Awful as the god who flings
+      His thunder round, and the lightning wings;
+      God of songs, and Orphean strings,
+      Who to this mortal bosom brings
+      All harmonious heavenly things!
+      Thy drowsy prophet to revive,
+  Ten thousand thousand forms before him drive:
+  With chariots and horses all o'fire awake him,
+  Convulsions, and furies, and prophesies shake him:
+  Let him tell it in groans, though he bend with the load,
+  Though he burst with the weight of the terrible god._
+
+_Tir._ The wretch, who shed the blood of old Labdacides,
+Lives, and is great;
+But cruel greatness ne'er was long.
+The first of Laius' blood his life did seize,
+And urged his fate,
+Which else had lasting been and strong.
+The wretch, who Laius killed, must bleed or fly;
+Or Thebes, consumed with plagues, in ruins lie.
+
+_OEdip._ The first of Laius' blood! pronounce the person;
+May the god roar from thy prophetic mouth,
+That even the dead may start up, to behold;
+Name him, I say, that most accursed wretch,
+For, by the stars, he dies!
+Speak, I command thee;
+By Phoebus, speak; for sudden death's his doom:
+Here shall he fall, bleed on this very spot;
+His name, I charge thee once more, speak.
+
+_Tir._ 'Tis lost,
+Like what we think can never shun remembrance;
+Yet of a sudden's gone beyond the clouds.
+
+_OEdip._ Fetch it from thence; I'll have't, wheree'er it be.
+
+_Cre._ Let me entreat you, sacred sir, be calm,
+And Creon shall point out the great offender.
+'Tis true, respect of nature might enjoin
+Me silence, at another time; but, oh,
+Much more the power of my eternal love!
+That, that should strike me dumb; yet Thebes, my country--
+I'll break through all, to succour thee, poor city!
+O, I must speak.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak then, if aught thou knowest,
+As much thou seem'st to know,--delay no longer.
+
+_Cre._ O beauty! O illustrious, royal maid!
+To whom my vows were ever paid, till now;
+And with such modest, chaste, and pure affection,
+The coldest nymph might read'em without blushing;
+Art thou the murdress, then, of wretched Laius?
+And I, must I accuse thee! O my tears!
+Why will you fall in so abhorred a cause?
+But that thy beauteous, barbarous hand destroyed
+Thy father, (O monstrous act!) both gods
+And men at once take notice.
+
+_OEdip._ Eurydice!
+
+_Eur._ Traitor, go on; I scorn thy little malice;
+And knowing more my perfect innocence,
+Than gods and men, then how much more than thee,
+Who art their opposite, and formed a liar,
+I thus disdain thee! Thou once didst talk of love;
+Because I hate thy love,
+Thou dost accuse me.
+
+_Adr._ Villain, inglorious villain,
+And traitor, doubly damned, who durst blaspheme
+The spotless virtue of the brightest beauty;
+Thou diest: Nor shall the sacred majesty,     [_Draws and wounds him._
+That guards this place, preserve thee from my rage.
+
+_OEdip._ Disarm them both!--Prince, I shall make you know,
+That, I can tame you twice. Guards, seize him.
+
+_Adr._ Sir,
+I must acknowledge, in another cause
+Repentance might abash me; but I glory
+In this, and smile to see the traitor's blood.
+
+_OEdip._ Creon, you shall be satisfied at full.
+
+_Cre._ My hurt is nothing, sir; but I appeal
+To wise Tiresias, if my accusation
+Be not most true. The first of Laius' blood
+Gave him his death. Is there a prince before her?
+Then she is faultless, and I ask her pardon.
+And may this blood ne'er cease to drop, O Thebes,
+If pity of thy sufferings did not move me,
+To shew the cure which heaven itself prescribed.
+
+_Eur._ Yes, Thebans, I will die to save your lives.
+More willingly than you can wish my fate;
+But let this good, this wise, this holy man,
+Pronounce my sentence: For to fall by him,
+By the vile breath of that prodigious villain,
+Would sink my soul, though I should die a martyr.
+
+_Adr._ Unhand me, slaves.--O mightiest of kings,
+See at your feet a prince not used to kneel;
+Touch not Eurydice, by all the gods,
+As you would save your Thebes, but take my life:
+For should she perish, heaven would heap plagues on plagues,
+Rain sulphur down, hurl kindled bolts
+Upon your guilty heads.
+
+_Cre._ You turn to gallantry, what is but justice;
+Proof will be easy made. Adrastus was
+The robber, who bereft the unhappy king
+Of life; because he flatly had denied
+To make so poor a prince his son-in-law;
+Therefore 'twere fit that both should perish.
+
+_1 Theb._ Both, let both die.
+
+_All Theb._ Both, both; let them die.
+
+_OEdip._ Hence, you wild herd! For your ringleader here,
+He shall be made example. Hæmon, take him.
+
+_1 Theb._ Mercy, O mercy!
+
+_OEdip._ Mutiny in my presence!
+Hence, let me see that busy face no more.
+
+_Tir._ Thebans, what madness makes you drunk with rage?
+Enough of guilty death's already acted:
+Fierce Creon has accused Eurydice,
+With prince Adrastus; which the god reproves
+By inward checks, and leaves their fates in doubt.
+
+_OEdip._ Therefore instruct us what remains to do,
+Or suffer; for I feel a sleep like death
+Upon me, and I sigh to be at rest.
+
+_Tir._ Since that the powers divine refuse to clear
+The mystic deed, I'll to the grove of furies;
+There I can force the infernal gods to shew
+Their horrid forms; each trembling ghost shall rise,
+And leave their grisly king without a waiter.
+For prince Adrastus and Eurydice,
+My life's engaged, I'll guard them in the fane,
+'Till the dark mysteries of hell are done.
+Follow me, princes; Thebans, all to rest.
+O, OEdipus, to-morrow--but no more.
+If that thy wakeful genius will permit,
+Indulge thy brain this night with softer slumbers:
+To-morrow, O to-morrow!--Sleep, my son;
+And in prophetic dreams thy fate be shown.
+                             [_Exeunt_ TIR. ADR. EUR. MAN. _and Theb._
+
+  _Manent_ OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CREON, PYRACMON, HÆMON, _and_ ALCANDER.
+
+_OEdip._ To bed, my fair, my dear, my best Jocasta.
+After the toils of war, 'tis wondrous strange
+Our loves should thus be dashed. One moment's thought,
+And I'll approach the arms of my beloved.
+
+_Joc._ Consume whole years in care, so now and then
+I may have leave to feed my famished eyes
+With one short passing glance, and sigh my vows:
+This, and no more, my lord, is all the passion
+Of languishing Jocasta.                                       [_Exit._
+
+_OEdip._ Thou softest, sweetest of the world! good night.--
+Nay, she is beauteous too; yet, mighty love!
+I never offered to obey thy laws,
+But an unusual chillness came upon me;
+An unknown hand still checked my forward joy,
+Dashed me with blushes, though no light was near;
+That even the act became a violation.
+
+_Pyr._ He's strangely thoughtful.
+
+_OEdip._ Hark! who was that? Ha! Creon, didst thou call me?
+
+_Cre._ Not I, my gracious lord, nor any here.
+
+_OEdip._ That's strange! methought I heard a doleful voice
+Cry, OEdipus.--The prophet bade me sleep.
+He talked of dreams, and visions, and to-morrow!
+I'll muse no more; come what will, or can,
+My thoughts are clearer than unclouded stars;
+And with those thoughts I'll rest. Creon, good-night.
+                                                     [_Exit with_ HÆM.
+
+_Cre._ Sleep seal your eyes up, sir,--eternal sleep!
+But if he sleep and wake again, O all
+Tormenting dreams, wild horrors of the night,
+And hags of fancy, wing him through the air:
+From precipices hurl him headlong down,
+Charybdis roar, and death be set before him!
+
+_Alc._ Your curses have already taken effect,
+For he looks very sad.
+
+_Cre._ May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever;
+His eye-balls never move, brows be unbent,
+His blood, his entrails, liver, heart, and bowels,
+Be blacker than the place I wish him, hell.
+
+_Pyr._ No more; you tear yourself, but vex not him.
+Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the temple,
+While blind Tiresias conjures up the fiends,
+And pass the time with nice Eurydice.
+
+_Alc._ Try promises and threats, and if all fail,
+Since hell's broke loose, why should not you be mad?
+Ravish, and leave her dead with her Adrastus.
+
+_Cre._ Were the globe mine, I'd give a province hourly
+For such another thought.--Lust and revenge!
+To stab at once the only man I hate,
+And to enjoy the woman whom I love!
+I ask no more of my auspicious stars,
+The rest as fortune please; so but this night
+She play me fair, why, let her turn for ever.
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON.
+
+_Hæm._ My lord, the troubled king is gone to rest;
+Yet, ere he slept, commanded me to clear
+The antichambers; none must dare be near him.
+
+_Cre._ Hæmon, you do your duty;                            [_Thunder._
+And we obey.--The night grows yet more dreadful!
+'Tis just that all retire to their devotions.
+The gods are angry; but to-morrow's dawn,
+If prophets do not lie, will make all clear.
+
+  _As they go off,_ OEDIPUS _enters, walking asleep in his shirt, with
+  a dagger in his right hand, and a taper in his left._
+
+_OEdip._ O, my Jocasta! 'tis for this, the wet
+Starved soldier lies on the cold ground;
+For this, he bears the storms
+Of winter camps, and freezes in his arms;
+To be thus circled, to be thus embraced.
+That I could hold thee ever!--Ha! where art thou?
+What means this melancholy light, that seems
+The gloom of glowing embers?
+The curtain's drawn; and see she's here again!
+Jocasta? Ha! what, fallen asleep so soon?
+How fares my love? this taper will inform me.--
+Ha! Lightning blast me, thunder
+Rivet me ever to Prometheus' rock,
+And vultures gnaw out my incestuous heart!--
+By all the gods, my mother Merope!
+My sword! a dagger! ha, who waits there? Slaves,
+My sword!--What, Hæmon, dar'st thou, villain, stop me?
+With thy own poniard perish.--Ha! who's this?
+Or is't a change of death? By all my honours,
+New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:
+Incest and parricide,--thy father's murderer!
+Out, thou infernal flame!--Now all is dark,
+All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!
+And now, while thus I stalk about the room,
+I challenge Fate to find another wretch
+Like OEdipus!                                          [_Thunder,_ &c.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA _attended, with Lights, in a Night-gown._
+
+_OEdip._ Night, horror, death, confusion, hell, and furies!
+Where am I?--O, Jocasta, let me hold thee,
+Thus to my bosom! ages let me grasp thee!
+All that the hardest-tempered weathered flesh,
+With fiercest human spirit inspired, can dare,
+Or do, I dare; but, oh you powers, this was,
+By infinite degrees, too much for man.
+Methinks my deafened ears
+Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knocked
+By some tempestuous hand, shoot flashing fire;--
+That sleep should do this!
+
+_Joc._ Then my fears were true.
+Methought I heard your voice,--and yet I doubted,--
+Now roaring like the ocean, when the winds
+Fight with the waves; now, in a still small tone
+Your dying accents fell, as wrecking ships,
+After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down,
+And bubble up a noise.
+
+_OEdip._ Trust me, thou fairest, best of all thy kind,
+None e'er in dreams was tortured so before.
+Yet what most shocks the niceness of my temper,
+Even far beyond the killing of my father,
+And my own death, is, that this horrid sleep
+Dashed my sick fancy with an act of incest:
+I dreamt, Jocasta, that thou wert my mother;
+Which, though impossible, so damps my spirits,
+That I could do a mischief on myself,
+Lest I should sleep, and dream the like again.
+
+_Joc._ O OEdipus, too well I understand you!
+I know the wrath of heaven, the care of Thebes,
+The cries of its inhabitants, war's toils,
+And thousand other labours of the state,
+Are all referred to you, and ought to take you
+For ever from Jocasta.
+
+_OEdip._ Life of my life, and treasure of my soul,
+Heaven knows I love thee.
+
+_Joc._ O, you think me vile,
+And of an inclination so ignoble,
+That I must hide me from your eyes for ever.
+Be witness, gods, and strike Jocasta dead,
+If an immodest thought, or low desire,
+Inflamed my breast, since first our loves were lighted.
+
+_OEdip._ O rise, and add not, by thy cruel kindness,
+A grief more sensible than all my torments.
+Thou thinkest my dreams are forged; but by thyself,
+The greatest oath, I swear, they are most true;
+But, be they what they will, I here dismiss them.
+Begone, chimeras, to your mother clouds!
+Is there a fault in us? Have we not searched
+The womb of heaven, examined all the entrails
+Of birds and beasts, and tired the prophet's art?
+Yet what avails? He, and the gods together,
+Seem, like physicians, at a loss to help us;
+Therefore, like wretches that have lingered long,
+We'll snatch the strongest cordial of our love;
+To bed, my fair.
+
+_Ghost._ [_Within._] OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! who calls?
+Didst thou not hear a voice?
+
+_Joc._ Alas! I did.
+
+_Ghost._ Jocasta!
+
+_Joc._ O my love, my lord, support me!
+
+_OEdip._ Call louder, till you burst your airy forms!--
+Rest on my hand. Thus, armed with innocence,
+I'll face these babbling dæmons of the air;
+In spite of ghosts, I'll on.
+Though round my bed the furies plant their charms,
+I'll break them, with Jocasta in my arms;
+Clasped in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;
+And act my joys, though thunder shake the room.             [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_A dark Grove._
+
+  _Enter_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.
+
+_Dioc._ What mean you by these words?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than to be Creon.
+A thinking soul is punishment enough;
+But when 'tis great, like mine, and wretched too,
+Then every thought draws blood.
+
+_Dioc._ You are not wretched.
+
+_Cre._ I am: my soul's ill married to my body.
+I would be young, be handsome, be beloved:
+Could I but breathe myself into Adrastus!--
+
+_Dioc._ You rave; call home your thoughts.
+
+_Cre._ I pr'ythee let my soul take air a while;
+Were she in OEdipus, I were a king;
+Then I had killed a monster, gained a battle,
+And had my rival prisoner; brave, brave actions!
+Why have not I done these?
+
+_Dioc._ Your fortune hindered.
+
+_Cre._ There's it; I have a soul to do them all:
+But fortune will have nothing done that's great,
+But by young handsome fools; body and brawn
+Do all her work: Hercules was a fool,
+And straight grew famous; a mad boist'rous fool,
+Nay worse, a woman's fool;
+Fool is the stuff, of which heaven makes a hero.
+
+_Dioc._ A serpent ne'er becomes a flying dragon,
+Till he has eat a serpent[7].
+
+_Cre._ Goes it there?
+I understand thee; I must kill Adrastus.
+
+_Dioc._ Or not enjoy your mistress:
+Eurydice and he are prisoners here,
+But will not long be so: This tell-tale ghost
+Perhaps will clear 'em both.
+
+_Cre._ Well: 'tis resolved.
+
+_Dioc._ The princess walks this way;
+You must not meet her,
+Till this be done.
+
+_Cre._ I must.
+
+_Dioc._ She hates your sight;
+And more, since you accused her.
+
+_Cre._ Urge it not.
+I cannot stay to tell thee my design;
+For she's too near.
+
+  _Enter_ EURYDICE.
+
+How, madam, were your thoughts employed?
+
+_Eur._ On death, and thee.
+
+_Cre._ Then were they not well sorted: Life and me
+Had been the better match.
+
+_Eur._ No, I was thinking
+On two the most detested things in nature:
+And they are death and thee.
+
+_Cre._ The thought of death to one near death is dreadful!
+O 'tis a fearful thing to be no more;
+Or, if to be, to wander after death;
+To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day;
+And when the darkness comes, to glide in paths
+That lead to graves; and in the silent vault,
+Where lies your own pale shroud, to hover o'er it,
+Striving to enter your forbidden corps,
+And often, often, vainly breathe your ghost
+Into your lifeless lips;
+Then, like a lone benighted traveller,
+Shut out from lodging, shall your groans be answered
+By whistling winds, whose every blast will shake
+Your tender form to atoms.
+
+_Eur._ Must I be this thin being? and thus wander?
+No quiet after death!
+
+_Cre._ None: You must leave
+This beauteous body; all this youth and freshness
+Must be no more the object of desire,
+But a cold lump of clay;
+Which then your discontented ghost will leave,
+And loath its former lodging.
+This is the best of what comes after death.
+Even to the best.
+
+_Eur._ What then shall be thy lot?--
+Eternal torments, baths of boiling sulphur,
+Vicissitudes of fires, and then of frosts;
+And an old guardian fiend, ugly as thou art,
+To hollow in thy ears at every lash,--
+This for Eurydice; these for her Adrastus!
+
+_Cre._ For her Adrastus!
+
+_Eur._ Yes; for her Adrastus:
+For death shall ne'er divide us: Death? what's death!
+
+_Dioc._ You seemed to fear it.
+
+_Eur._ But I more fear Creon:
+To take that hunch-backed monster in my arms!
+The excrescence of a man!
+
+_Dioc. to Cre._ See what you've gained.
+
+_Eur._ Death only can be dreadful to the bad:
+To innocence, 'tis like a bug-bear dressed
+To frighten children; pull but off his masque,
+And he'll appear a friend.
+
+_Cre._ You talk too slightly
+Of death and hell. Let me inform you better.
+
+_Eur._ You best can tell the news of your own country.
+
+_Dioc._ Nay, now you are too sharp.
+
+_Eur._ Can I be so to one, who has accused me
+Of murder and of parricide?
+
+_Cre._ You provoked me:
+And yet I only did thus far accuse you,
+As next of blood to Laius: Be advised,
+And you may live.
+
+_Eur._ The means?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis offered you.
+The fool Adrastus has accused himself.
+
+_Eur._ He has indeed, to take the guilt from me.
+
+_Cre._ He says he loves you; if he does, 'tis well:
+He ne'er could prove it in a better time.
+
+_Eur._ Then death must be his recompence for love?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis a fool's just reward;
+The wise can make a better use of life.
+But 'tis the young man's pleasure; his ambition:
+I grudge him not that favour.
+
+_Eur._ When he's dead,
+Where shall I find his equal!
+
+_Cre._ Every where.
+Fine empty things, like him, the court swarms with them.
+Fine fighting things; in camps they are so common,
+Crows feed on nothing else: plenty of fools;
+A glut of them in Thebes.
+And fortune still takes care they should be seen:
+She places 'em aloft, o'th' topmost spoke
+Of all her wheel. Fools are the daily work
+Of nature; her vocation; if she form
+A man, she loses by't, 'tis too expensive;
+'Twould make ten fools: A man's a prodigy.
+
+_Eur._ That is, a Creon: O thou black detractor,
+Who spit'st thy venom against gods and men!
+Thou enemy of eyes;
+Thou, who lov'st nothing but what nothing loves,
+And that's thyself; who hast conspired against
+My life and fame, to make me loathed by all,
+And only fit for thee.
+But for Adrastus' death,--good Gods, his death!--
+What curse shall I invent?
+
+_Dioc._ No more: he's here.
+
+_Eur._ He shall be ever here.
+He who would give his life, give up his fame--
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS.
+
+If all the excellence of woman-kind
+Were mine;--No, 'tis too little all for him:
+Were I made up of endless, endless joys!
+
+_Adr._ And so thou art:
+The man, who loves like me,
+Would think even infamy, the worst of ills,
+Were cheaply purchased, were thy love the price.
+Uncrowned, a captive, nothing left but honour,--
+'Tis the last thing a prince should throw away;
+But when the storm grows loud, and threatens love,
+Throw even that o'er-board; for love's the jewel,
+And last it must be kept.
+
+_Cre._ [_To_ DIOC.] Work him, be sure,
+To rage; he is passionate;
+Make him the aggressor.
+
+_Dioc._ O false love, false honour!
+
+_Cre._ Dissembled both, and false!
+
+_Adr._ Darest thou say this to me?
+
+_Cre._ To you! why what are you, that I should fear you?
+I am not Laius. Hear me, prince of Argos;
+You give what's nothing, when you give your honour:
+'Tis gone; 'tis lost in battle. For your love,
+Vows made in wine are not so false as that:
+You killed her father; you confessed you did:
+A mighty argument to prove your passion to the daughter!
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._]
+Gods, must I bear this brand, and not retort
+The lye to his foul throat!
+
+_Dioc._ Basely you killed him.
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._]
+O, I burn inward: my blood's all on fire!
+Alcides, when the poisoned shirt sate closest,
+Had but an ague-fit to this my fever.
+Yet, for Eurydice, even this I'll suffer,
+To free my love.--Well then, I killed him basely.
+
+_Cre._ Fairly, I'm sure, you could not.
+
+_Dioc._ Nor alone.
+
+_Cre._ You had your fellow thieves about you, prince;
+They conquered, and you killed.
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._] Down, swelling heart!
+'Tis for thy princess all:--O my Eurydice!--                [_To her._
+
+_Eur._ [_To him._]
+Reproach not thus the weakness of my sex,
+As if I could not bear a shameful death,
+Rather than see you burdened with a crime
+Of which I know you free.
+
+_Cre._ You do ill, madam,
+To let your head-long love triumph o'er nature:
+Dare you defend your father's murderer?
+
+_Eur._ You know he killed him not.
+
+_Cre._ Let him say so.
+
+_Dioc._ See, he stands mute.
+
+_Cre._ O power of conscience, even in wicked men!
+It works, it stings, it will not let him utter
+One syllable, one,--no, to clear himself
+From the most base, detested, horrid act
+That ere could stain a villain,--not a prince.
+
+_Adr._ Ha! villain!
+
+_Dioc._ Echo to him, groves: cry villain.
+
+_Adr._ Let me consider--did I murder Laius,
+Thus, like a villain?
+
+_Cre._ Best revoke your words,
+And say you killed him not.
+
+_Adr._ Not like a villain; pr'ythee, change me that
+For any other lye.
+
+_Dioc._ No, villain, villain.
+
+_Cre._ You killed him not! proclaim your innocence,
+Accuse the princess: So I knew 'twould be.
+
+_Adr._ I thank thee, thou instructest me:
+No matter how I killed him.
+
+_Cre._ [_Aside._] Cooled again!
+
+_Eur._ Thou, who usurp'st the sacred name of conscience,
+Did not thy own declare him innocent?
+To me declare him so? The king shall know it.
+
+_Cre._ You will not be believed, for I'll forswear it.
+
+_Eur._ What's now thy conscience?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis my slave, my drudge, my supple glove,
+My upper garment, to put on, throw off,
+As I think best: 'Tis my obedient conscience.
+
+_Adr._ Infamous wretch!
+
+_Cre._ My conscience shall not do me the ill office
+To save a rival's life; when thou art dead,
+(As dead thou shalt be, or be yet more base
+Than thou think'st me,
+By forfeiting her life, to save thy own,--)
+Know this,--and let it grate thy very soul,--
+She shall be mine: (she is, if vows were binding;)
+Mark me, the fruit of all thy faith and passion,
+Even of thy foolish death, shall all be mine.
+
+_Adr._ Thine, say'st thou, monster! shall my love be thine?
+O, I can bear no more!
+Thy cunning engines have with labour raised
+My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,
+To fall and pash thee dead.
+See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion,                 [_Draws._
+Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;
+And in her room avenging thunder rolls,
+To blast thee thus!--Come both!--                        [_Both draw._
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis what I wished.
+Now see whose arm can launch the surer bolt,
+And who's the better Jove!                                   [_Fight._
+
+_Eur._ Help; murther, help!
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON _and guards, run betwixt them, and
+  beat down their swords._
+
+_Hæm._ Hold, hold your impious hands! I think the furies,
+To whom this grove is hallowed, have inspired you:
+Now, by my soul, the holiest earth of Thebes
+You have profaned with war. Nor tree, nor plant
+Grows here, but what is fed with magick juice;
+All full of human souls, that cleave their barks
+To dance at midnight by the moon's pale beams:
+At least two hundred years these reverend shades
+Have known no blood, but of black sheep and oxen,
+Shed by the priest's own hand to Proserpine.
+
+_Adr._ Forgive a stranger's ignorance: I knew not
+The honours of the place.
+
+_Hæm._ Thou, Creon, didst.
+Not OEdipus, were all his foes here lodged,
+Durst violate the religion of these groves,
+To touch one single hair; but must, unarmed,
+Parle as in truce, or surlily avoid
+What most he longed to kill[8].
+
+_Cre._ I drew not first,
+But in my own defence.
+
+_Adr._ I was provoked
+Beyond man's patience; all reproach could urge
+Was used to kindle one, not apt to bear.
+
+_Hæm._ 'Tis OEdipus, not I, must judge this act.--
+Lord Creon, you and Diocles retire:
+Tiresias, and the brother-hood of priests,
+Approach the place: None at these rites assist,
+But you the accused, who by the mouth of Laius
+Must be absolved or doomed.
+
+_Adr._ I bear my fortune.
+
+_Eur._ And I provoke my trial.
+
+_Hæm._ 'Tis at hand.
+For see, the prophet comes, with vervain crowned;
+The priests with yew, a venerable band;
+We leave you to the gods.    [_Exit_ HÆMON _with_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _led by_ MANTO: _The Priests follow; all cloathed
+  in long black habits._
+
+_Tir._ Approach, ye lovers;
+Ill-fated pair! whom, seeing not, I know,
+This day your kindly stars in heaven were joined;
+When lo, an envious planet interposed,
+And threatened both with death: I fear, I fear!--
+
+_Eur._ Is there no God so much a friend to love,
+Who can controul the malice of our fate?
+Are they all deaf; or have the giants heaven?
+
+_Tir._ The gods are just;
+But how can finite measure infinite?
+Reason! alas, it does not know itself!
+Yet man, vain man, would with this short-lined plummet,
+Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.
+Whatever is, is in its causes just;
+Since all things are by fate. But purblind man
+Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;
+His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,
+That poises all above.
+
+_Eur._ Then we must die!
+
+_Tir._ The danger's imminent this day.
+
+_Adr._ Why then there's one day less for human ills;
+And who would moan himself, for suffering that,
+Which in a day must pass? something, or nothing;--
+I shall be what I was again, before
+I was Adrastus.--
+Penurious heaven, can'st thou not add a night
+To our one day? give me a night with her,
+And I'll give all the rest.
+
+_Tir._ She broke her vow,
+First made to Creon: But the time calls on;
+And Laius' death must now be made more plain.
+How loth I am to have recourse to rites
+So full of horror, that I once rejoice
+I want the use of sight!--
+
+_1 Pr._ The ceremonies stay.
+
+_Tir._ _Chuse the darkest part o'the grove:
+Such as ghosts at noon-day love.
+Dig a trench, and dig it nigh_
+_Where the bones of Laius lie;
+Altars, raised of turf or stone,
+Will the infernal powers have none.
+Answer me, if this be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _'Tis done._
+
+_Tir._ _Is the sacrifice made fit?
+Draw her backward to the pit:
+Draw the barren heifer back;
+Barren let her be, and black.
+Cut the curled hair, that grows
+Full betwixt her horns and brows:
+And turn your faces from the sun:
+Answer me, if this be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _'Tis done._
+
+_Tir._ _Pour in blood, and blood like wine,
+To mother Earth and Proserpine:
+Mingle milk into the stream;
+Feast the ghosts that love the steam;
+Snatch a brand from funeral pile;
+Toss it in to make them boil:
+And turn your faces from the sun:
+Answer me, if all be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _All is done._  [_Peal of Thunder; and flashes of Lightning;
+                           then groaning below the stage._
+
+_Man._ O, what laments are those?
+
+_Tir._ The groans of ghosts, that cleave the heart with pain,
+And heave it up: they pant and stick half-way.
+                                         [_The Stage wholly darkened._
+
+_Man._ And now a sudden darkness covers all,
+True genuine night, night added to the groves;
+The fogs are blown full in the face of heaven.
+
+_Tir._ Am I but half obeyed? infernal gods,
+Must you have musick too? then tune your voices,
+And let them have such sounds as hell ne'er heard,
+Since Orpheus bribed the shades.
+
+  _Musick First. Then Song._
+
+_1. Hear, ye sullen powers below:
+     Hear, ye taskers of the dead.
+2. You that boiling cauldrons blow,
+     You that scum the molten lead.
+3. You that pinch with red-hot tongs;
+1. You that drive the trembling hosts
+     Of poor, poor ghosts,
+   With your sharpened prongs;
+2. You that thrust them off the brim;
+3. You that plunge them when they swim:
+1. Till they drown;
+     Till they go
+     On a row,
+   Down, down, down:
+   Ten thousand, thousand, thousand fathoms low._
+
+_Chorus._ _Till they drown, &c._
+
+_1. Musick for awhile
+   Shall your cares beguile:
+   Wondering how your pains were eased;
+2. And disdaining to be pleas'd;
+1. Till Alecto free the dead
+     From their eternal bands;
+   Till the snakes drop from her head,
+     And whip from out her hands.
+1. Come away,
+     Do not stay,
+     But obey,
+     While we play,
+     For hell's broke up, and ghosts have holiday._
+
+_Chorus._ _Come away, &c._   [_A flash of Lightning: The Stage is made
+                              bright, and the Ghosts are seen passing
+                              betwixt the Trees._
+
+_1. Laius! 2. Laius! 3. Laius!_
+
+_1. Hear! 2. Hear! 3. Hear!_
+
+_Tir._ _Hear and appear!
+By the Fates that spun thy thread!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three._
+
+_Tir._ _By the furies fierce and dread!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three._
+
+_Tir._ _By the judges of the dead!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three.
+       Three times three!_
+
+_Tir._ _By hell's blue flame:
+       By the Stygian Lake:
+     And by Demogorgon's name,
+       At which ghosts quake,
+     Hear and appear!_
+                      [_The Ghost of Laius rises armed in his chariot,
+                       as he was slain. And behind his Chariot,
+                       sit the three who were murdered with him._
+
+_Ghost of Laius._ Why hast thou drawn me from my pain below,
+To suffer worse above? to see the day,
+And Thebes, more hated? Hell is heaven to Thebes.
+For pity send me back, where I may hide,
+In willing night, this ignominious head:
+In hell I shun the public scorn; and then
+They hunt me for their sport, and hoot me as I fly:
+Behold even now they grin at my gored side,
+And chatter at my wounds.
+
+_Tir._ I pity thee:
+Tell but why Thebes is for thy death accurst,
+And I'll unbind the charm.
+
+_Ghost._ O spare my shame!
+
+_Tir._ Are these two innocent?
+
+_Ghost._ Of my death they are.
+But he who holds my crown,--Oh, must I speak!--
+Was doomed to do what nature most abhors.
+The Gods foresaw it; and forbade his being,
+Before he yet was born. I broke their laws,
+And clothed with flesh his pre-existing soul.
+Some kinder power, too weak for destiny,
+Took pity, and endued his new-formed mass
+With temperance, justice, prudence, fortitude,
+And every kingly virtue: But in vain.
+For fate, that sent him hood-winked to the world,
+Performed its work by his mistaking hands.
+Ask'st thou who murdered me? 'twas OEdipus:
+Who stains my bed with incest? OEdipus:
+For whom then are you curst, but OEdipus!
+He comes, the parricide! I cannot bear him:
+My wounds ake at him: Oh, his murderous breath
+Venoms my airy substance! hence with him,
+Banish him; sweep him out; the plague he bears
+Will blast your fields, and mark his way with ruin.
+From Thebes, my throne, my bed, let him be driven:
+Do you forbid him earth, and I'll forbid him heaven.
+                                                    [_Ghost descends._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS, CREON, HÆMON, &c.
+
+_OEdip._ What's this! methought some pestilential blast
+Struck me, just entering; and some unseen hand
+Struggled to push me backward! tell me why
+My hair stands bristling up, why my flesh trembles?
+You stare at me! then hell has been among ye,
+And some lag fiend yet lingers in the grove.
+
+_Tir._ What omen sawest thou, entering?
+
+_OEdip._ A young stork,
+That bore his aged parent on his back;
+Till weary with the weight, he shook him off,
+And pecked out both his eyes.
+
+_Adr._ Oh, OEdipus!
+
+_Eur._ Oh, wretched OEdipus!
+
+_Tir._ Oh, fatal king!
+
+_OEdip._ What mean these exclamations on my name?
+I thank the gods, no secret thoughts reproach me:
+No: I dare challenge heaven to turn me outward,
+And shake my soul quite empty in your sight.
+Then wonder not that I can bear unmoved
+These fixed regards, and silent threats of eyes.
+A generous fierceness dwells with innocence;
+And conscious virtue is allowed some pride.
+
+_Tir._ Thou knowest not what thou sayest.
+
+_OEdip._ What mutters he? tell me, Eurydice:
+Thou shak'st: Thy soul's a woman;--speak, Adrastus,
+And boldly, as thou met'st my arms in fight:--
+Dar'st thou not speak? why then 'tis bad indeed.--
+Tiresias, thee I summon by thy priesthood,
+Tell me what news from hell; where Laius points,
+And whose the guilty head!
+
+_Tir._ Let me not answer.
+
+_OEdip._ Be dumb then, and betray thy native soil
+To farther plagues.
+
+_Tir._ I dare not name him to thee.
+
+_OEdip._ Dar'st thou converse with hell, and canst thou fear
+An human name?
+
+_Tir._ Urge me no more to tell a thing, which, known,
+Would make thee more unhappy: 'Twill be found,
+Though I am silent.
+
+_OEdip._ Old and obstinate! Then thou thyself
+Art author or accomplice of this murther,
+And shun'st the justice, which by public ban
+Thou hast incurred.
+
+_Tir._ O, if the guilt were mine,
+It were not half so great: Know, wretched man,
+Thou only, thou art guilty! thy own curse
+Falls heavy on thyself.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak this again:
+But speak it to the winds, when they are loudest,
+Or to the raging seas; they'll hear as soon,
+And sooner will believe.
+
+_Tir._ Then hear me, heaven!
+For, blushing, thou hast seen it; hear me, earth,
+Whose hollow womb could not contain this murder,
+But sent it back to light! And thou, hell, hear me!
+Whose own black seal has 'firmed this horrid truth,
+OEdipus murthered Laius!
+
+_OEdip._ Rot the tongue,
+And blasted be the mouth that spoke that lie!
+Thou blind of sight, but thou more blind of soul!
+
+_Tir._ Thy parents thought not so.
+
+_OEdip._ Who were my parents?
+
+_Tir._ Thou shalt know too soon.
+
+_OEdip._ Why seek I truth from thee?
+The smiles of courtiers, and the harlot's tears,
+The tradesman's oaths, and mourning of an heir,
+Are truths to what priests tell.
+O why has priest-hood privilege to lie,
+And yet to be believed!--thy age protects thee.
+
+_Tir._ Thou canst not kill me; 'tis not in thy fate,
+As 'twas to kill thy father, wed thy mother,
+And beget sons, thy brothers[9].
+
+_OEdip._ Riddles, riddles!
+
+_Tir._ Thou art thyself a riddle; a perplext
+Obscure enigma, which when thou unty'st,
+Thou shalt be found and lost.
+
+_OEdip._ Impossible!--
+Adrastus, speak; and, as thou art a king,
+Whose royal word is sacred, clear my fame.
+
+_Adr._ Would I could!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha, wilt thou not? Can that plebeian vice
+Of lying mount to kings? Can they be tainted?
+Then truth is lost on earth.
+
+_Cre._ The cheat's too gross.
+Adrastus is his oracle, and he,
+The pious juggler, but Adrastus' organ.
+
+_OEdip._ 'Tis plain, the priest's suborned to free the prisoner.
+
+_Cre._ And turn the guilt, on you.
+
+_OEdip._ O, honest Creon, how hast thou been belied!
+
+_Eur._ Hear me.
+
+_Cre._ She's bribed to save her lover's life.
+
+_Adr._ If, OEdipus, thou think'st--
+
+_Cre._ Hear him not speak.
+
+_Adr._ Then hear these holy men.
+
+_Cre._ Priests, priests; all bribed, all priests.
+
+_OEdip._ Adrastus, I have found thee:
+The malice of a vanquished man has seized thee!
+
+_Adr._ If envy and not truth--
+
+_OEdip._ I'll hear no more: Away with him.
+                          [HÆMON _takes him off by force:_ CREON _and_
+                           EURYDICE _follow._
+
+[_To_ TIR.] Why stand'st thou here, impostor?
+So old, and yet so wicked,--Lie for gain?
+And gain so short as age can promise thee!
+
+_Tir._ So short a time as I have yet to live,
+Exceeds thy 'pointed hour;--remember Laius!
+No more; if e'er we meet again, 'twill be
+In mutual darkness; we shall feel before us
+To reach each other's hand;--remember Laius!
+                                   [_Exit_ TIRESIAS: _Priests follow._
+
+  OEDIPUS _solus._
+
+Remember Laius! that's the burden still:
+Murther and incest! but to hear them named
+My soul starts in me: The good sentinel
+Stands to her weapons, takes the first alarm
+To guard me from such crimes.--Did I kill Laius?
+Then I walked sleeping, in some frightful dream;
+My soul then stole my body out by night;
+And brought me back to bed ere morning-wake
+It cannot be even this remotest way,
+But some dark hint would justle forward now,
+And goad my memory.--Oh my Jocasta!
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Why are you thus disturbed?
+
+_OEdip._ Why, would'st thou think it?
+No less than murder.
+
+_Joc._ Murder! what of murder?
+
+_OEdip._ Is murder then no more? add parricide,
+And incest; bear not these a frightful sound?
+
+_Joc._ Alas!
+
+_OEdip._ How poor a pity is alas,
+For two such crimes!--was Laius us'd to lie?
+
+_Joc._ Oh no: The most sincere, plain, honest man;
+One who abhorred a lie.
+
+_OEdip._ Then he has got that quality in hell.
+He charges me--but why accuse I him?
+I did not hear him speak it: They accuse me,--
+The priest, Adrastus and Eurydice,--
+Of murdering Laius!--Tell me, while I think on't,
+Has old Tiresias practised long this trade?
+
+_Joc._ What trade?
+
+_OEdip._ Why, this foretelling trade.
+
+_Joc._ For many years.
+
+_OEdip._ Has he before this day accused me?
+
+_Joc._ Never.
+
+_OEdip._ Have you ere this inquired who did this murder?
+
+_Joc._ Often; but still in vain.
+
+_OEdip._ I am satisfied.
+Then 'tis an infant-lye; but one day old.
+The oracle takes place before the priest;
+The blood of Laius was to murder Laius:
+I'm not of Laius' blood.
+
+_Joc._ Even oracles
+Are always doubtful, and are often forged:
+Laius had one, which never was fulfilled,
+Nor ever can be now.
+
+_OEdip._ And what foretold it?
+
+_Joc._ That he should have a son by me, foredoomed
+The murderer of his father: True, indeed,
+A son was born; but, to prevent that crime,
+The wretched infant of a guilty fate,
+Bored through his untried feet, and bound with cords,
+On a bleak mountain naked was exposed:
+The king himself lived many, many years,
+And found a different fate; by robbers murdered,
+Where three ways met: Yet these are oracles,
+And this the faith we owe them.
+
+_OEdip._ Sayest thou, woman?
+By heaven, thou hast awakened somewhat in me,
+That shakes my very soul!
+
+_Joc._ What new disturbance?
+
+_OEdip._ Methought thou said'st--(or do I dream thou said'st it!)
+This murder was on Laius' person done,
+Where three ways meet?
+
+_Joc._ So common fame reports.
+
+_OEdip._ Would it had lied!
+
+_Joc._ Why, good my lord?
+
+_OEdip._ No questions.
+'Tis busy time with me; despatch mine first;
+Say where, where was it done!
+
+_Joc._ Mean you the murder?
+
+_OEdip._ Could'st thou not answer without naming murder?
+
+_Joc._ They say in Phocide; on the verge that parts it
+From Daulia, and from Delphos.
+
+_OEdip._ So!--How long? when happened this?
+
+_Joc._ Some little time before you came to Thebes.
+
+_OEdip._ What will the gods do with me!
+
+_Joc._ What means that thought?
+
+_OEdip._ Something: But 'tis not yet your turn to ask:
+How old was Laius, what his shape, his stature,
+His action, and his mien? quick, quick, your answer!--
+
+_Joc._ Big made he was, and tall: His port was fierce,
+Erect his countenance: Manly majesty
+Sate in his front, and darted from his eyes,
+Commanding all he viewed: His hair just grizzled,
+As in a green old age: Bate but his years,
+You are his picture.
+
+_OEdip._ [_Aside._] Pray heaven he drew me not!--
+Am I his picture?
+
+_Joc._ So I have often told you.
+
+_OEdip._ True, you have;
+Add that unto the rest:--How was the king
+Attended, when he travelled?
+
+_Joc._ By four servants:
+He went out private.
+
+_OEdip._ Well counted still:--
+One 'scaped, I hear; what since became of him?
+
+_Joc._ When he beheld you first, as king in Thebes,
+He kneeled, and trembling begged I would dismiss him:
+He had my leave; and now he lives retired.
+
+_OEdip._ This man must be produced: he must, Jocasta.
+
+_Joc._ He shall--yet have I leave to ask you why?
+
+_OEdip._ Yes, you shall know: For where should I repose
+The anguish of my soul, but in your breast!
+I need not tell you Corinth claims my birth;
+My parents, Polybus and Merope,
+Two royal names; their only child am I.
+It happened once,--'twas at a bridal feast,--
+One, warm with wine, told me I was a foundling,
+Not the king's son; I, stung with this reproach,
+Struck him: My father heard of it: The man
+Was made ask pardon; and the business hushed.
+
+_Joc._ 'Twas somewhat odd.
+
+_OEdip._ And strangely it perplexed me.
+I stole away to Delphos, and implored
+The god, to tell my certain parentage.
+He bade me seek no farther:--'Twas my fate
+To kill my father, and pollute his bed,
+By marrying her who bore me.
+
+_Joc._ Vain, vain oracles!
+
+_OEdip._ But yet they frighted me;
+I looked on Corinth as a place accurst,
+Resolved my destiny should wait in vain,
+And never catch me there.
+
+_Joc._ Too nice a fear.
+
+_OEdip._ Suspend your thoughts; and flatter not too soon.
+Just in the place you named, where three ways met.
+And near that time, five persons I encountered;
+One was too like, (heaven grant it prove not him!)
+Whom you describe for Laius: insolent,
+And fierce they were, as men who lived on spoil.
+I judged them robbers, and by force repelled
+The force they used: In short, four men I slew:
+The fifth upon his knees demanding life,
+My mercy gave it;--Bring me comfort now.
+If I slew Laius, what can be more wretched!
+From Thebes, and you, my curse has banished me:
+From Corinth, fate.
+
+_Joc._ Perplex not thus your mind.
+My husband fell by multitudes opprest;
+So Phorbas said: This band you chanced to meet:
+And murdered not my Laius, but revenged him.
+
+_OEdip._ There's all my hope: Let Phorbas tell me this,
+And I shall live again.--
+To you, good gods, I make my last appeal;
+Or clear my virtue, or my crime reveal:
+If wandering in the maze of fate I run,
+And backward trod the paths I sought to shun,
+Impute my errors to your own decree;
+My hands are guilty, but my heart is free.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PYRACMON _and_ CREON.
+
+_Pyr._ Some business of import, that triumph wears,
+You seem to go with; nor is it hard to guess
+When you are pleased, by a malicious joy,
+Whose red and fiery beams cast through your visage
+A glowing pleasure. Sure you smile revenge,
+And I could gladly hear.
+
+_Cre._ Would'st thou believe!
+This giddy hair-brained king, whom old Tiresias
+Has thunder-struck with heavy accusation,
+Though conscious of no inward guilt, yet fears:
+He fears Jocasta, fears himself, his shadow;
+He fears the multitude; and,--which is worth
+An age of laughter,--out of all mankind,
+He chuses me to be his orator;
+Swears that Adrastus, and the lean-looked prophet[10],
+Are joint conspirators; and wished me to
+Appease the raving Thebans; which I swore
+To do.
+
+_Pyr._ A dangerous undertaking;
+Directly opposite to your own interest.
+
+_Cre._ No, dull Pyracmon; when I left his presence
+With all the wings, with which revenge could aid
+My flight, I gained the midst o'the city;
+There, standing on a pile of dead and dying,
+I to the mad and sickly multitude,
+With interrupting sobs, cry'd out,--O Thebes!
+O wretched Thebes, thy king, thy OEdipus,
+This barbarous stranger, this usurper, monster,
+Is by the oracle, the wise Tiresias,
+Proclaimed the murderer of thy royal Laius:
+Jocasta too, no longer now my sister,
+Is found complotter in the horrid deed.
+Here I renounce all tie of blood and nature,
+For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes!--
+And there I wept, and then the rabble howled.
+And roared, and with a thousand antic mouths
+Gabbled revenge! revenge was all the cry.
+
+_Pyr._ This cannot fail: I see you on the throne:
+And OEdipus cast out.
+
+_Cre._ Then strait came on
+Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd,
+Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join.
+And head the forces while the heat was in them.
+So to the palace I returned, to meet
+The king, and greet him with another story.--
+But see, he enters.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA, _attended._
+
+_OEdip._ Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet
+Intreats he may return, without being asked
+Of aught concerning what we have discovered?
+
+_Joc._ He started when I told him your intent,
+Replying, what he knew of that affair
+Would give no satisfaction to the king;
+Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life,
+To be dismissed from court: He trembled too,
+As if convulsive death had seized upon him,
+And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly,
+That had he been the murderer of Laius,
+Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more.
+
+_OEdip._ By your description, sure as plagues and death
+Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light
+Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace,
+Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius
+Shrinks at his name.
+
+_Joc._ Rather let him go:
+So my poor boding heart would have it be,
+Without a reason.
+
+_OEdip._ Hark, the Thebans come!
+Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me,
+Let Phorbas be retained.
+
+_Joc._ You shall, while I
+Have life, be still obeyed.
+In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments,
+And set the fairest countenance to view;
+Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness
+And inward languishing: That oracle
+Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way,
+Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core,
+Howe'er the beauteous out-side shews so lovely.
+
+_OEdip._ O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess!
+All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come.               [_Exit_ JOC.
+
+_Ghost._ OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! again that scream of woe!
+Thrice have I heard, thrice, since the morning dawned,
+It hollowed loud, as if my guardian spirit
+Called from some vaulted mansion, OEdipus!
+Or is it but the work of melancholy?
+When the sun sets, shadows, that shewed at noon
+But small, appear most long and terrible;
+So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,
+Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds;
+Owls, ravens, crickets seem the watch of death;
+Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons;
+Echoes, the very leavings of a voice,
+Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves;
+Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus;
+While we fantastic dreamers heave and puff,
+And sweat with an imagination's weight;
+As if, like Atlas, with these mortal shoulders
+We could sustain the burden of the world.      [CREON _comes forward._
+
+_Cre._ O, sacred sir, my royal lord--
+
+_OEdip._ What now?
+Thou seem'st affrighted at some dreadful action;
+Thy breath comes short, thy darted eyes are fixt
+On me for aid, as if thou wert pursued:
+I sent thee to the Thebans; speak thy wonder:
+Fear not; this palace is a sanctuary,
+The king himself's thy guard.
+
+_Cre._ For me, alas,
+My life's not worth a thought, when weighed with yours!
+But fly, my lord; fly as your life is sacred.
+Your fate is precious to your faithful Creon,
+Who therefore, on his knees, thus prostrate begs
+You would remove from Thebes, that vows your ruin.
+When I but offered at your innocence,
+They gathered stones, and menaced me with death,
+And drove me through the streets, with imprecations
+Against your sacred person, and those traitors
+Who justified your guilt, which cursed Tiresias
+Told, as from heaven, was cause of their destruction.
+
+_OEdip._ Rise, worthy Creon; haste and take our guard,
+Rank them in equal part upon the square,
+Then open every gate of this our palace,
+And let the torrent in. Hark, it comes.                      [_Shout._
+I hear them roar: Begone, and break down all
+The dams, that would oppose their furious passage.
+                                          [_Exit_ CREON _with Guards._
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS, _his sword drawn._
+
+_Adr._ Your city
+Is all in arms, all bent to your destruction:
+I heard but now, where I was close confined,
+A thundering shout, which made my jailors vanish,
+Cry,--fire the palace! where is the cruel king?
+Yet, by the infernal Gods, those awful powers
+That have accused you, which these ears have heard,
+And these eyes seen, I must believe you guiltless;
+For, since I knew the royal OEdipus,
+I have observed in all his acts such truth,
+And god-like clearness, that, to the last gush
+Of blood and spirits, I'll defend his life,
+And here have sworn to perish by his side.
+
+_OEdip._ Be witness, Gods, how near this touches me. [_Embracing him._
+O what, what recompence can glory make?
+
+_Adr._ Defend your innocence, speak like yourself,
+And awe the rebels with your dauntless virtue.
+But hark! the storm comes nearer.
+
+_OEdip._ Let it come.
+The force of majesty is never known
+But in a general wreck: Then, then is seen
+The difference 'twixt a threshold and a throne.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, PYRACMON, ALCANDER, TIRESIAS, _Thebans._
+
+_Alc._ Where, where's this cruel king?--Thebans, behold,
+There stands your plague, the ruin, desolation
+Of this unhappy--speak; shall I kill him?
+Or shall he be cast out to banishment?
+
+_All Theb._ To banishment, away with him!
+
+_OEdip._ Hence, you barbarians, to your slavish distance!
+Fix to the earth your sordid looks; for he,
+Who stirs, dares more than madmen, fiends, or furies.
+Who dares to face me, by the Gods, as well
+May brave the majesty of thundering Jove.
+Did I for this relieve you, when besieged
+By this fierce prince, when cooped within your walls,
+And to the very brink of fate reduced;
+When lean-jawed famine made more havock of you,
+Than does the plague? But I rejoice I know you,
+Know the base stuff that tempered your vile souls:
+The Gods be praised, I needed not your empire,
+Born to a greater, nobler, of my own;
+Nor shall the sceptre of the earth now win me
+To rule such brutes, so barbarous a people.
+
+_Adr._ Methinks, my lord, I see a sad repentance,
+A general consternation spread among them.
+
+_OEdip._ My reign is at an end; yet, ere I finish,
+I'll do a justice that becomes a monarch;
+A monarch, who, in the midst of swords and javelins,
+Dares act as on his throne, encompast round
+With nations for his guard. Alcander, you
+Are nobly born, therefore shall lose your head:         [_Seizes him._
+Here, Hæmon, take him: but for this, and this,
+Let cords dispatch them. Hence, away with them!
+
+_Tir._ O sacred prince, pardon distracted Thebes,
+Pardon her, if she acts by heaven's award;
+If that the infernal spirits have declared
+The depth of fate; and if our oracles
+May speak, O do not too severely deal!
+But let thy wretched Thebes at least complain.
+If thou art guilty, heaven will make it known;
+If innocent, then let Tiresias die.
+
+_OEdip._ I take thee at thy word.--Run, haste, and save Alcander:
+I swear, the prophet, or the king shall die.
+Be witness, all you Thebans, of my oath;
+And Phorbas be the umpire.
+
+_Tir._ I submit.                                    [_Trumpet sounds._
+
+_OEdip._ What mean those trumpets?
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON _with_ ALCANDER, _&c._
+
+_Hæm._ From your native country,
+Great sir, the famed Ægeon is arrived,
+That renowned favourite of the king your father:
+He comes as an ambassador from Corinth,
+And sues for audience.
+
+_OEdip._ Haste, Hæmon, fly, and tell him that I burn
+To embrace him.
+
+_Hæm._ The queen, my lord, at present holds him
+In private conference; but behold her here.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA, EURYDICE, _&c._
+
+_Joc._ Hail, happy OEdipus, happiest of kings!
+Henceforth be blest, blest as thou canst desire;
+Sleep without fears the blackest nights away;
+Let furies haunt thy palace, thou shalt sleep
+Secure, thy slumbers shall be soft and gentle
+As infants' dreams.
+
+_OEdip._ What does the soul of all my joys intend?
+And whither would this rapture?
+
+_Joc._ O, I could rave,
+Pull down those lying fanes, and burn that vault,
+From whence resounded those false oracles,
+That robbed my love of rest: If we must pray,
+Rear in the streets bright altars to the Gods,
+Let virgins' hands adorn the sacrifice;
+And not a grey-beard forging priest come near,
+To pry into the bowels of the victim,
+And with his dotage mad the gaping world.
+But see, the oracle that I will trust,
+True as the Gods, and affable as men.
+
+  _Enter_ ÆGEON. _Kneels._
+
+_OEdip._ O, to my arms, welcome, my dear Ægeon;
+Ten thousand welcomes! O, my foster-father,
+Welcome as mercy to a man condemned!
+Welcome to me, as, to a sinking mariner,
+The lucky plank that bears him to the shore!
+But speak, O tell me what so mighty joy
+Is this thou bring'st, which so transports Jocasta?
+
+_Joc._ Peace, peace, Ægeon, let Jocasta tell him!--
+O that I could for ever charm, as now,
+My dearest OEdipus! Thy royal father,
+Polybus, king of Corinth, is no more.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! can it be? Ægeon, answer me;
+And speak in short, what my Jocasta's transport
+May over-do.
+
+_Æge._ Since in few words, my royal lord, you ask
+To know the truth,--king Polybus is dead.
+
+_OEdip._ O all you powers, is't possible? what, dead!
+But that the tempest of my joy may rise
+By just degrees, and hit at last the stars,
+Say, how, how died he? ha! by sword, by fire,
+Or water? by assassinates, or poison? speak:
+Or did he languish under some disease?
+
+_Æge._ Of no distemper, of no blast he died,
+But fell like autumn-fruit that mellowed long;
+Even wondered at, because he dropt no sooner.
+Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years;
+Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more:
+Till, like a clock worn out with eating time,
+The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
+
+_OEdip._ O, let me press thee in my youthful arms,
+And smother thy old age in my embraces.
+Yes, Thebans, yes, Jocasta, yes, Adrastus,
+Old Polybus, the king my father's dead!
+Fires shall be kindled in the midst of Thebes;
+In the midst of tumult, wars, and pestilence,
+I will rejoice for Polybus's death.
+Know, be it known to the limits of the world;
+Yet farther, let it pass yon dazzling roof,
+The mansion of the Gods, and strike them deaf
+With everlasting peals of thundering joy.
+
+_Tir._ Fate! Nature! Fortune! what is all this world?
+
+_OEdip._ Now, dotard; now, thou blind old wizard prophet,
+Where are your boding ghosts, your altars now;
+Your birds of knowledge, that in dusky air
+Chatter futurity? And where are now
+Your oracles, that called me parricide?
+Is he not dead? deep laid in his monument?
+And was not I in Thebes when fate attacked him?
+Avaunt, begone, you vizors of the Gods!
+Were I as other sons, now I should weep;
+But, as I am, I have reason to rejoice:
+And will, though his cold shade should rise and blast me.
+O, for this death, let waters break their bounds;
+Rocks, valleys, hills, with splitting Io's ring:
+Io, Jocasta, Io pæan sing!
+
+_Tir._ Who would not now conclude a happy end!
+But all fate's turns are swift and unexpected.
+
+_Æge._ Your royal mother Merope, as if
+She had no soul since you forsook the land,
+Waves all the neighbouring princes that adore her.
+
+_OEdip._ Waves all the princes! poor heart! for what?
+O speak.
+
+_Æge._ She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,
+Grows cold, even in the summer of her age,
+And, for your sake, has sworn to die unmarried.
+
+_OEdip._ How! for my sake, die and not marry! O
+My fit returns.
+
+_Æge._ This diamond, with a thousand kisses blest,
+With thousand sighs and wishes for your safety,
+She charged me give you, with the general homage
+Of our Corinthian lords.
+
+_OEdip._ There's magic in it, take it from my sight;
+There's not a beam it darts, but carries hell,
+Hot flashing lust, and necromantic incest:
+Take it from these sick eyes, oh hide it from me!--
+No, my Jocasta, though Thebes cast me out,
+While Merope's alive, I'll ne'er return.
+O, rather let me walk round the wide world
+A beggar, than accept a diadem
+On such abhorred conditions.
+
+_Joc._ You make, my lord, your own unhappiness,
+By these extravagant and needless fears.
+
+_OEdip._ Needless! O, all you Gods! By heaven, I would rather
+Embrue my arms, up to my very shoulders,
+In the dear entrails of the best of fathers,
+Than offer at the execrable act
+Of damned incest: therefore no more of her.
+
+_Æge._ And why, O sacred sir, if subjects may
+Presume to look into their monarch's breast,
+Why should the chaste and spotless Merope
+Infuse such thoughts, as I must blush to name?
+
+_OEdip._ Because the god of Delphos did forewarn me,
+With thundering oracles.
+
+_Æge._ May I entreat to know them?
+
+_OEdip._ Yes, my Ægeon; but the sad remembrance
+Quite blasts my soul: See then the swelling priest!
+Methinks, I have his image now in view!--
+He mounts the tripos in a minute's space,
+His clouded head knocks at the temple-roof;
+While from his mouth,
+These dismal words are heard:
+"Fly, wretch, whom fate has doomed thy father's blood to spill,
+And with preposterous births thy mother's womb to fill!"
+
+_Æge._ Is this the cause,
+Why you refuse the diadem of Corinth?
+
+_OEdip._ The cause! why, is it not a monstrous one!
+
+_Æge._ Great sir, you may return; and though you should
+Enjoy the queen, (which all the Gods forbid!)
+The act would prove no incest.
+
+_OEdip._ How, Ægeon?
+Though I enjoy my mother, not incestuous!
+Thou ravest, and so do I; and these all catch
+My madness; look, they're dead with deep distraction:
+Not incest! what, not incest with my mother?
+
+_Æge._ My lord, queen Merope is not your mother.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! did I hear thee right? not Merope
+My mother!
+
+_Æge._ Nor was Polybus your father.
+
+_OEdip._ Then all my days and nights must now be spent
+In curious search, to find out those dark parents
+Who gave me to the world; speak then, Ægeon.
+By all the Gods celestial and infernal,
+By all the ties of nature, blood and friendship,
+Conceal not from this racked despairing king,
+A point or smallest grain of what thou knowest:
+Speak then, O answer to my doubts directly,
+If royal Polybus was not my father,
+Why was I called his son?
+_Æge._ He from my arms
+Received you, as the fairest gift of nature.
+Not but you were adorned with all the riches
+That empire could bestow, in costly mantles,
+Upon its infant heir.
+
+_OEdip._ But was I made the heir of Corinth's crown,
+Because Ægeon's hands presented me?
+
+_Æge._ By my advice,
+Being past all hope of children,
+He took, embraced, and owned you for his son.
+
+_OEdip._ Perhaps I then am yours; instruct me, sir;
+If it be so, I'll kneel and weep before you.
+With all the obedience of a penitent child,
+Imploring pardon.
+Kill me, if you please;
+I will not writhe my body at the wound,
+But sink upon your feet with a last sigh,
+And ask forgiveness with my dying hands.
+
+_Æge._ O rise, and call not to this aged cheek
+The little blood which should keep warm my heart;
+You are not mine, nor ought I to be blest
+With such a god-like offspring. Sir, I found you
+Upon the mount Cithæron.
+
+_OEdip._ O speak, go on, the air grows sensible
+Of the great things you utter, and is calm:
+The hurried orbs, with storms so racked of late,
+Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking.
+Cithæron! speak, the valley of Cithæron!
+
+_Æge._ Oft-times before, I thither did resort,
+Charmed with the conversation of a man,
+Who led a rural life, and had command
+O'er all the shepherds, who about those vales
+Tended their numerous flocks: in this man's arms,
+I saw you smiling at a fatal dagger,
+Whose point he often offered at your throat;
+But then you smiled, and then he drew it back,
+Then lifted it again,--you smiled again:
+'Till he at last in fury threw it from him,
+And cried aloud,--The Gods forbid thy death.
+Then I rushed in, and, after some discourse,
+To me he did bequeath your innocent life;
+And I, the welcome care to Polybus.
+
+_OEdip._ To whom belongs the master of the shepherds?
+
+_Æge._ His name I knew not, or I have forgot:
+That he was of the family of Laius,
+I well remember.
+
+_OEdip._ And is your friend alive? for if he be,
+I'll buy his presence, though it cost my crown.
+
+_Æge._ Your menial attendants best can tell
+Whether he lives, or not; and who has now
+His place.
+
+_Joc._ Winds, bear me to some barren island,
+Where print of human feet was never seen;
+O'er-grown with weeds of such a monstrous height,
+Their baleful tops are washed with bellying clouds;
+Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent
+For horrors, that would blast the barbarous world!
+
+_OEdip._ If there be any here that knows the person
+Whom he described, I charge him on his life
+To speak; concealment shall be sudden death:
+But he, who brings him forth, shall have reward
+Beyond ambition's lust.
+
+_Tir._ His name is Phorbas:
+Jocasta knows him well; but, if I may
+Advise, rest where you are, and seek no farther.
+
+_OEdip._ Then all goes well, since Phorbas is secured
+By my Jocasta.--Haste, and bring him forth:
+My love, my queen, give orders, Ha! what mean
+These tears, and groans, and strugglings? speak, my fair,
+What are thy troubles?
+
+_Joc._ Yours; and yours are mine:
+Let me conjure you, take the prophet's counsel,
+And let this Phorbas go.
+
+_OEdip._ Not for the world.
+By all the Gods, I'll know my birth, though death
+Attends the search. I have already past
+The middle of the stream; and to return,
+Seems greater labour than to venture over:
+Therefore produce him.
+
+_Joc._ Once more, by the Gods,
+I beg, my OEdipus, my lord, my life,
+My love, my all, my only, utmost hope!
+I beg you, banish Phorbas: O, the Gods,
+I kneel, that you may grant this first request.
+Deny me all things else; but for my sake,
+And as you prize your own eternal quiet,
+Never let Phorbas come into your presence.
+
+_OEdip._ You must be raised, and Phorbas shall appear,
+Though his dread eyes were basilisks. Guards, haste,
+Search the queen's lodgings; find, and force him hither.
+                                                     [_Exeunt Guards._
+
+_Joc._ O, OEdipus, yet send,
+And stop their entrance, ere it be too late;
+Unless you wish to see Jocasta rent
+With furies,--slain out-right with mere distraction!
+Keep from your eyes and mine the dreadful Phorbas.
+Forbear this search, I'll think you more than mortal;
+Will you yet hear me?
+
+_OEdip._ Tempests will be heard,
+And waves will dash, though rocks their basis keep.
+But see, they enter. If thou truly lovest me,
+Either forbear this subject, or retire.
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON, _Guards, with_ PHORBAS.
+
+_Joc._ Prepare then, wretched prince, prepare to hear
+A story, that shall turn thee into stone.
+Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in nature,
+A flaw made through the centre, by some God,
+Through which the groans of ghosts may strike thy ears,
+They would not wound thee, as this story will.
+Hark, hark! a hollow voice calls out aloud,
+Jocasta! Yes, I'll to the royal bed,
+Where first the mysteries of our loves were acted,
+And double-dye it with imperial crimson;
+Tear off this curling hair,
+Be gorged with fire, stab every vital part,
+And, when at last I'm slain, to crown the horror,
+My poor tormented ghost shall cleave the ground,
+To try if hell can yet more deeply wound.                     [_Exit._
+
+_OEdip._ She's gone; and, as she went, methought her eyes
+Grew larger, while a thousand frantic spirits,
+Seething like rising bubbles on the brim,
+Peeped from the watry brink, and glowed upon me.
+I'll seek no more; but hush my genius up,
+That throws me on my fate.--Impossible!
+O wretched man, whose too too busy thoughts
+Hide swifter than the gallopping heaven's round,
+With an eternal hurry of the soul.
+Nay, there's a time when even the rolling year
+Seems to stand still, dead calms are in the ocean,
+When not a breath disturbs the drowzy waves:
+But man, the very monster of the world,
+Is ne'er at rest; the soul for ever wakes.
+Come then, since destiny thus drives us on,
+Let us know the bottom.--Hæmon, you I sent;
+Where is that Phorbas?
+
+_Hæm._ Here, my royal lord.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak first, Ægeon, say, is this the man?
+
+_Æge._ My lord, it is; Though time has ploughed that face
+With many furrows since I saw it first,
+Yet I'm too well acquainted with the ground,
+Quite to forget it.
+
+_OEdip._ Peace; stand back a while.--
+Come hither, friend; I hear thy name is Phorbas.
+Why dost thou turn thy face? I charge thee answer
+To what I shall enquire: Wert thou not once
+The servant to king Laius here in Thebes?
+
+_Phor._ I was, great sir, his true and faithful servant;
+Born and bred up in court, no foreign slave.
+
+_OEdip._ What office hadst thou? what was thy employment?
+
+_Phor._ He made me lord of all his rural pleasures;
+For much he loved them: oft I entertained him
+With sporting swains, o'er whom I had command.
+
+_OEdip._ Where was thy residence? to what part of the country
+Didst thou most frequently resort?
+
+_Phor._ To mount Cithæron, and the pleasant vallies
+Which all about lie shadowing its large feet.
+
+_OEdip._ Come forth, Ægeon.--Ha! why start'st thou, Phorbas?
+Forward, I say, and face to face confront him:
+Look wistly on him,--through him, if thou canst!
+And tell me on thy life, say, dost thou know him?
+Didst thou e'er see him? e'er converse with him
+Near mount Cithæron?
+
+_Phor._ Who, my lord, this man?
+
+_OEdip._ This man, this old, this venerable man:
+Speak, did'st thou ever meet him there?
+
+_Phor._ Where, sacred sir?
+
+_OEdip._ Near mount Cithæron; answer to the purpose,
+'Tis a king speaks; and royal minutes are
+Of much more worth than thousand vulgar years:
+Did'st thou e'er see this man near mount Cithæron?
+
+_Phor._ Most sure, my lord, I have seen lines like those
+His visage bears; but know not where, nor when.
+
+_Æge._ Is't possible you should forget your ancient friend?
+There are, perhaps,
+Particulars, which may excite your dead remembrance.
+Have you forgot I took an infant from you,
+Doomed to be murdered in that gloomy vale?
+The swaddling-bands were purple, wrought with gold.
+Have you forgot, too, how you wept, and begged
+That I should breed him up, and ask no more?
+
+_Phor._ Whate'er I begged, thou, like a dotard, speak'st
+More than is requisite; and what of this?
+Why is it mentioned now? And why, O why
+Dost thou betray the secrets of thy friend?
+
+_Æge._ Be not too rash. That infant grew at last
+A king; and here the happy monarch stands.
+
+_Phor._ Ha! whither would'st thou? O what hast thou uttered!
+For what thou hast said, death strike thee dumb for ever!
+
+_OEdip._ Forbear to curse the innocent; and be
+Accurst thyself, thou shifting traitor, villain,
+Damned hypocrite, equivocating slave!
+
+_Phor._ O heavens! wherein, my lord, have I offended?
+
+_OEdip._ Why speak you not according to my charge?
+Bring forth the rack: since mildness cannot win you,
+Torments shall force.
+
+_Phor._ Hold, hold, O dreadful sir!
+You will not rack an innocent old man?
+
+_OEdip._ Speak then.
+
+_Phor._ Alas! What would you have me say?
+
+_OEdip._ Did this old man take from your arms an infant?
+
+_Phor._ He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the gods,
+Phorbas had perished in that very moment.
+
+_OEdip._ Moment! Thou shalt be hours, days, years, a dying.--
+Here, bind his hands; he dallies with my fury:
+But I shall find a way--
+
+_Phor._ My lord, I said
+I gave the infant to him.
+
+_OEdip._ Was he thy own, or given thee by another?
+
+_Phor._ He was not mine, but given me by another.
+
+_OEdip._ Whence? and from whom? what city? of what house?
+
+_Phor._ O, royal sir, I bow me to the ground;
+Would I could sink beneath it! by the gods,
+I do conjure you to inquire no more.
+
+_OEdip._ Furies and hell! Hæmon, bring forth the rack,
+Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames:
+He shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off,
+And burnt alive.
+
+_Phor._ O spare my age.
+
+_OEdip._ Rise then, and speak.
+
+_Phor._ Dread sir, I will.
+
+_OEdip._ Who gave that infant to thee?
+
+_Phor._ One of king Laius' family.
+
+_OEdip._ O, you immortal gods!--But say, who was't?
+Which of the family of Laius gave it?
+A servant, or one of the royal blood?
+
+_Phor._ O wretched state! I die, unless I speak;
+And if I speak, most certain death attends me!
+
+_OEdip._ Thou shalt not die. Speak, then, who was it? speak,
+While I have sense to understand the horror;
+For I grow cold.
+
+_Phor._ The queen Jocasta told me,
+It was her son by Laius.
+
+_OEdip._ O you gods!--But did she give it thee?
+
+_Phor._ My lord, she did.
+
+_OEdip._ Wherefore? for what?--O break not yet, my heart;
+Though my eyes burst, no matter:--wilt thou tell me,
+Or must I ask for ever? for what end,
+Why gave she thee her child?
+
+_Phor._ To murder it.
+
+_OEdip._ O more than savage! murder her own bowels,
+Without a cause!
+
+_Phor._ There was a dreadful one,
+Which had foretold, that most unhappy son
+Should kill his father, and enjoy his mother.
+
+_OEdip._ But one thing more.
+Jocasta told me, thou wert by the chariot
+When the old king was slain: Speak, I conjure thee,
+For I shall never ask thee aught again,--
+What was the number of the assassinates?
+
+_Phor._ The dreadful deed was acted but by one;
+And sure that one had much of your resemblance.
+
+_OEdip._ 'Tis well! I thank you, gods! 'tis wondrous well!
+Daggers, and poison! O there is no need
+For my dispatch: And you, you merciless powers,
+Hoard up your thunder-stones; keep, keep your bolts,
+For crimes of little note.                                   [_Falls._
+
+_Adr._ Help, Hæmon, help, and bow him gently forward;
+Chafe, chafe his temples: How the mighty spirits,
+Half-strangled with the damp his sorrows raised,
+Struggle for vent! But see, he breathes again,
+And vigorous nature breaks through opposition.--
+How fares my royal friend?
+
+_OEdip._ The worse for you.
+O barbarous men, and oh the hated light,
+Why did you force me back, to curse the day;
+To curse my friends; to blast with this dark breath
+The yet untainted earth and circling air?
+To raise new plagues, and call new vengeance down,
+Why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me?
+Methinks there's not a hand that grasps this hell,
+But should run up like flax all blazing fire.
+Stand from this spot, I wish you as my friends,
+And come not near me, lest the gaping earth
+Swallow you too.--Lo, I am gone already.
+                                   [_Draws, and claps his Sword to his
+                                    Breast, which_ ADRASTUS _strikes
+                                    away with his Foot._
+
+_Adr._ You shall no more be trusted with your life:--
+Creon, Alcander, Hæmon, help to hold him.
+
+_OEdip._ Cruel Adrastus! wilt thou, Hæmon, too?
+Are these the obligations of my friends?
+O worse than worst of my most barbarous foes!
+Dear, dear Adrastus, look with half an eye
+On my unheard of woes, and judge thyself,
+If it be fit that such a wretch should live!
+O, by these melting eyes, unused to weep,
+With all the low submissions of a slave,
+I do conjure thee, give my horrors way!
+Talk not of life, for that will make me rave:
+As well thou may'st advise a tortured wretch,
+All mangled o'er from head to foot with wounds,
+And his bones broke, to wait a better day.
+
+_Adr._ My lord, you ask me things impossible;
+And I with justice should be thought your foe,
+To leave you in this tempest of your soul.
+
+_Tir._ Though banished Thebes, in Corinth you may reign;
+The infernal powers themselves exact no more:
+Calm then your rage, and once more seek the gods.
+
+_OEdip._ I'll have no more to do with gods, nor men;
+Hence, from my arms, avaunt. Enjoy thy mother!
+What, violate, with bestial appetite,
+The sacred veils that wrapt thee yet unborn!
+This is not to be borne! Hence; off, I say!
+For they, who let my vengeance, make themselves
+Accomplices in my most horrid guilt.
+
+_Adr._ Let it be so; we'll fence heav'n's fury from you,
+And suffer all together. This, perhaps,
+When ruin comes, may help to break your fall.
+
+_OEdip._ O that, as oft I have at Athens seen
+The stage arise, and the big clouds descend;
+So now, in very deed I might behold
+The pond'rous earth, and all yon marble roof
+Meet, like the hand of Jove, and crush mankind!
+For all the elements, and all the powers
+Celestial, nay, terrestrial, and infernal,
+Conspire the wreck of out-cast OEdipus!
+Fall darkness then, and everlasting night
+Shadow the globe; may the sun never dawn;
+The silver moon be blotted from her orb;
+And for an universal rout of nature
+Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,
+May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,
+But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark;
+That jars may rise, and wrath divine be hurled,
+Which may to atoms shake the solid world!                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, ALCANDER, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Creon._ Thebes is at length my own; and all my wishes,
+Which sure were great as royalty e'er formed,
+Fortune and my auspicious stars have crowned.
+O diadem, thou centre of ambition,
+Where all its different lines are reconciled,
+As if thou wert the burning glass of glory!
+
+_Pyr._ Might I be counsellor, I would intreat you
+To cool a little, sir; find out Eurydice;
+And, with the resolution of a man
+Marked out for greatness, give the fatal choice
+Of death or marriage.
+
+_Alc._ Survey cursed OEdipus,
+As one who, though unfortunate, beloved,
+Thought innocent, and therefore much lamented
+By all the Thebans: you must mark him dead,
+Since nothing but his death, not banishment,
+Can give assurance to your doubtful reign.
+
+_Cre._ Well have you done, to snatch me from the storm
+Of racking transport, where the little streams
+Of love, revenge, and all the under passions,
+As waters are by sucking whirlpools drawn,
+Were quite devoured in the vast gulph of empire.
+Therefore, Pyracmon, as you boldly urged,
+Eurydice shall die, or be my bride.
+Alcander, summon to their master's aid
+My menial servants, and all those whom change
+Of state, and hope of the new monarch's favour,
+Can win to take our part: Away.--What now?           [_Exit_ ALCANDER.
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON.
+
+When Hæmon weeps, without the help of ghosts
+I may foretel there is a fatal cause.
+
+_Hæm._ Is't possible you should be ignorant
+Of what has happened to the desperate king?
+
+_Cre._ I know no more but that he was conducted
+Into his closet, where I saw him fling
+His trembling body on the royal bed;
+All left him there, at his desire, alone;
+But sure no ill, unless he died with grief,
+Could happen, for you bore his sword away.
+
+_Hæm._ I did; and, having locked the door, I stood;
+And through a chink I found, not only heard,
+But saw him, when he thought no eye beheld him.
+At first, deep sighs heaved from his woful heart
+Murmurs, and groans that shook the outward rooms.
+And art thou still alive, O wretch! he cried;
+Then groaned again, as if his sorrowful soul
+Had cracked the strings of life, and burst away.
+
+_Cre._ I weep to hear; how then should I have grieved,
+Had I beheld this wondrous heap of sorrow!
+But, to the fatal period.
+
+_Hæm._ Thrice he struck,
+With all his force, his hollow groaning breast,
+And thus, with outcries, to himself complained:--
+But thou canst weep then, and thou think'st 'tis well,
+These bubbles of the shallowest emptiest sorrow,
+Which children vent for toys, and women rain
+For any trifle their fond hearts are set on;
+Yet these thou think'st are ample satisfaction
+For bloodiest murder, and for burning lust:
+No, parricide! if thou must weep, weep blood;
+Weep eyes, instead of tears:--O, by the gods!
+'Tis greatly thought, he cried, and fits my woes.
+Which said, he smiled revengefully, and leapt
+Upon the floor; thence gazing at the skies,
+His eye-balls fiery red, and glowing vengeance,--
+Gods I accuse you not, though I no more
+Will view your heaven, till, with more durable glasses,
+The mighty soul's immortal perspectives,
+I find your dazzling beings: Take, he cried,
+Take, eyes, your last, your fatal farewel-view.
+Then with a groan, that seemed the call of death,
+With horrid force lifting his impious hands,
+He snatched, he tore, from forth their bloody orbs,
+The balls of sight, and dashed them on the ground.
+
+_Cre._ A master-piece of horror; new and dreadful!
+
+_Hæm._ I ran to succour him; but, oh! too late;
+For he had plucked the remnant strings away.
+What then remains, but that I find Tiresias,
+Who, with his wisdom, may allay those furies,
+That haunt his gloomy soul?                                   [_Exit._
+
+_Cre._ Heaven will reward
+Thy care, most honest, faithful,--foolish Hæmon!
+But see, Alcander enters, well attended.
+
+  _Enter_ ALCANDER, _attended._
+
+I see thou hast been diligent.
+
+_Alc._ Nothing these,
+For number, to the crowds that soon will follow;
+Be resolute,
+And call your utmost fury to revenge.
+
+_Cre._ Ha! thou hast given
+The alarm to cruelty; and never may
+These eyes be closed, till they behold Adrastus
+Stretched at the feet of false Eurydice.
+But see, they are here! retire a while, and mark.
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS, _and_ EURYDICE, _attended._
+
+_Adr._ Alas, Eurydice, what fond rash man,
+What inconsiderate and ambitious fool,
+That shall hereafter read the fate of OEdipus,
+Will dare, with his frail hand, to grasp a sceptre?
+
+_Eur._ 'Tis true, a crown seems dreadful, and I wish
+That you and I, more lowly placed, might pass
+Our softer hours in humble cells away:
+Not but I love you to that infinite height,
+I could (O wondrous proof of fiercest love!)
+Be greatly wretched in a court with you.
+
+_Adr._ Take then this most loved innocence away;
+Fly from tumultuous Thebes, from blood and murder,
+Fly from the author of all villainies,
+Rapes, death, and treason, from that fury Creon:
+Vouchsafe that I, o'er-joyed, may bear you hence,
+And at your feet present the crown of Argos.
+                               [CREON _and attendants come up to him._
+
+_Cre._ I have o'er-heard thy black design, Adrastus,
+And therefore, as a traitor to this state,
+Death ought to be thy lot: Let it suffice
+That Thebes surveys thee as a prince; abuse not
+Her proffered mercy, but retire betimes,
+Lest she repent, and hasten on thy doom.
+
+_Adr._ Think not, most abject, most abhorred of men,
+Adrastus will vouchsafe to answer thee;--
+Thebans to you I justify my love:
+I have addrest my prayer to this fair princess;
+But, if I ever meant a violence,
+Or thought to ravish, as that traitor did,
+What humblest adorations could not win,
+Brand me, you gods, blot me with foul dishonour,
+And let men curse me by the name of Creon!
+
+_Eur._ Hear me, O Thebans, if you dread the wrath
+Of her whom fate ordained to be your queen;
+Hear me, and dare not, as you prize your lives,
+To take the part of that rebellious traitor.
+By the decree of royal OEdipus,
+By queen Jocasta's order, by what's more,
+My own dear vows of everlasting love,
+I here resign, to prince Adrastus' arms,
+All that the world can make me mistress of.
+
+_Cre._ O perjured woman!
+Draw all; and when I give the word, fall on.--
+Traitor, resign the princess, or this moment
+Expect, with all those most unfortunate wretches,
+Upon this spot straight to be hewn in pieces.
+
+_Adr._ No, villain, no;
+With twice those odds of men,
+I doubt not in this cause to vanquish thee.--
+Captain remember to your care I give
+My love; ten thousand, thousand times more clear,
+Than life or liberty.
+
+_Cre._ Fall on, Alcander.--
+Pyracmon you and I must wheel about
+For nobler game, the princess.
+
+_Adr._ Ah, traitor, dost thou shun me?
+Follow, follow,
+My brave companions! see, the cowards fly!
+                                    [_Exeunt fighting:_ CREON'S _Party
+                                     beaten off by_ ADRASTUS.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS.
+
+_OEdip._ O, 'tis too little this; thy loss of sight,
+What has it done? I shall be gazed at now
+The more; be pointed at, There goes the monster!
+Nor have I hid my horrors from myself;
+For, though corporeal light be lost for ever,
+The bright reflecting soul, through glaring optics,
+Presents in larger size her black ideas,
+Doubling the bloody prospect of my crimes;
+Holds fancy down, and makes her act again,
+With wife and mother:--Tortures, hell and furies!
+Ha! now the baleful offspring's brought to light!
+In horrid form, they rank themselves before me;--
+What shall I call this medley of creation?
+Here one, with all the obedience of a son,
+Borrowing Jocasta's look, kneels at my feet,
+And calls me father; there, a sturdy boy,
+Resembling Laius just as when I killed him,
+Bears up, and with his cold hand grasping mine,
+Cries out, how fares my brother OEdipus?
+What, sons and brothers! Sisters and daughters too!
+Fly all, begone, fly from my whirling brain!
+Hence, incest, murder! hence, you ghastly figures!
+O Gods! Gods, answer; is there any mean?
+Let me go mad, or die.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Where, where is this most wretched of mankind,
+This stately image of imperial sorrow,
+Whose story told, whose very name but mentioned,
+Would cool the rage of fevers, and unlock
+The hand of lust from the pale virgin's hair,
+And throw the ravisher before her feet?
+
+_OEdip._ By all my fears, I think Jocasta's voice!--
+Hence fly; begone! O thou far worse than worst
+Of damning charmers! O abhorred, loathed creature!
+Fly, by the gods, or by the fiends, I charge thee,
+Far as the East, West, North, or South of heaven,
+But think not thou shalt ever enter there;
+The golden gates are barred with adamant,
+'Gainst thee, and me; and the celestial guards,
+Still as we rise, will dash our spirits down.
+
+_Joc._ O wretched pair! O greatly wretched we!
+Two worlds of woe!
+
+_OEdip._ Art thou not gone then? ha!
+How darest thou stand the fury of the gods?
+Or comest thou in the grave to reap new pleasures?
+
+_Joc._ Talk on, till thou mak'st mad my rolling brain;
+Groan still more death; and may those dismal sources
+Still bubble on, and pour forth blood and tears.
+Methinks, at such a meeting, heaven stands still;
+The sea, nor ebbs, nor flows; this mole-hill earth
+Is heaved no more; the busy emmets cease:
+Yet hear me on--
+
+_OEdip._ Speak, then, and blast my soul.
+
+_Joc._ O, my loved lord, though I resolve a ruin,
+To match my crimes; by all my miseries,
+'Tis horror, worse than thousand thousand deaths,
+To send me hence without a kind farewell.
+
+_OEdip._ Gods, how she shakes me!--stay thee, O Jocasta!
+Speak something ere thou goest for ever from me!
+
+_Joc._ 'Tis woman's weakness, that I would be pitied;
+Pardon me then, O greatest, though most wretched.
+Of all thy kind! My soul is on the brink,
+And sees the boiling furnace just beneath:
+Do not thou push me off, and I will go,
+With such a willingness, as if that heaven
+With all its glory glowed for my reception.
+
+_OEdip._ O, in my heart I feel the pangs of nature;
+It works with kindness o'er: give, give me way!
+I feel a melting here, a tenderness,
+Too mighty for the anger of the gods!
+Direct me to thy knees: yet, oh forbear,
+Lest the dead embers should revive.
+Stand off, and at just distance
+Let me groan my horrors!--here
+On the earth, here blow my utmost gale;
+Here sob my sorrows, till I burst with sighing;
+Here gasp and languish out my wounded soul.
+
+_Joc._ In spite of all those crimes the cruel gods
+Can charge me with, I know my innocence;
+Know yours. 'Tis fate alone that makes us wretched,
+For you are still my husband.
+
+_OEdip._ Swear I am,
+And I'll believe thee; steal into thy arms,
+Renew endearments, think them no pollutions,
+But chaste as spirits' joys. Gently I'll come,
+Thus weeping blind, like dewy night, upon thee,
+And fold thee softly in my arms to slumber.
+                                     [_The Ghost of_ LAIUS _ascends by
+                                      degrees, pointing at_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Begone, my lord! Alas, what are we doing?
+Fly from my arms! Whirlwinds, seas, continents,
+And worlds, divide us! O, thrice happy thou,
+Who hast no use of eyes; for here's a sight
+Would turn the melting face of mercy's self
+To a wild fury.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! what seest thou there?
+
+_Joc._ The spirit of my husband! O, the gods!
+How wan he looks!
+
+_OEdip._ Thou ravest; thy husband's here.
+
+_Joc._ There, there he mounts
+In circling fire among the blushing clouds!
+And see, he waves Jocasta from the world!
+
+_Ghost._ Jocasta, OEdipus.                     [_Vanish with thunder._
+
+_OEdip._ What wouldst thou have?
+Thou knowest I cannot come to thee, detained
+In darkness here, and kept from means of death.
+I've heard a spirit's force is wonderful;
+At whose approach, when starting from his dungeon,
+The earth does shake, and the old ocean groans,
+Rocks are removed, and towers are thundered down;
+And walls of brass, and gates of adamant
+Are passable as air, and fleet like winds.
+
+_Joc._ Was that a raven's croak, or my son's voice?
+No matter which; I'll to the grave and hide me.
+Earth open, or I'll tear thy bowels up.
+Hark! he goes on, and blabs the deed of incest.
+
+_OEdip._ Strike then, imperial ghost; dash all at once
+This house of clay into a thousand pieces;
+That my poor lingering soul may take her flight
+To your immortal dwellings.
+
+_Joc._ Haste thee, then,
+Or I shall be before thee. See,--thou canst not see!
+Then I will tell thee that my wings are on.
+I'll mount, I'll fly, and with a port divine
+Glide all along the gaudy milky soil,
+To find my Laius out; ask every god
+In his bright palace, if he knows my Laius,
+My murdered Laius!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! how's this, Jocasta?
+Nay, if thy brain be sick, then thou art happy.
+_Joc._ Ha! will you not? shall I not find him out?
+Will you not show him? are my tears despised?
+Why, then I'll thunder, yes, I will be mad,
+And fright you with my cries. Yes, cruel gods,
+Though vultures, eagles, dragons tear my heart,
+I'll snatch celestial flames, fire all your dwellings,
+Melt down your golden roofs, and make your doors
+Of crystal fly from off their diamond hinges;
+Drive you all out from your ambrosial hives,
+To swarm like bees about the field of heaven.
+This will I do, unless you show me Laius,
+My dear, my murdered lord. O Laius! Laius! Laius!     [_Exit_ JOCASTA.
+
+_OEdip._ Excellent grief! why, this is as it should be!
+No mourning can be suitable to crimes
+Like ours, but what death makes, or madness forms.
+I could have wished, methought, for sight again,
+To mark the gallantry of her distraction;
+Her blazing eyes darting the wandering stars,
+To have seen her mouth the heavens, and mate the gods,
+While with her thundering voice she menaced high,
+And every accent twanged with smarting sorrow;
+But what's all this to thee? thou, coward, yet
+Art living, canst not, wilt not find the road
+To the great palace of magnificent Death;
+Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors,
+Which, day and night, are still unbarred for all.
+                    [_Clashing of Swords. Drums and Trumpets without._
+Hark! 'tis the noise of clashing swords! the sound
+Comes near;--O, that a battle would come o'er me!
+If I but grasp a sword, or wrest a dagger,
+I'll make a ruin with the first that falls.
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON, _with Guards._
+
+_Hæm._ Seize him, and bear him to the western tower.--
+Pardon me, sacred sir; I am informed
+That Creon has designs upon your life:
+Forgive me, then, if, to preserve you from him,
+I order your confinement.
+
+_OEdip._ Slaves, unhand me!--
+I think thou hast a sword;--'twas the wrong side.
+Yet, cruel Hæmon, think not I will live;
+He, that could tear his eyes out, sure can find
+Some desperate way to stifle this cursed breath:
+Or if I starve!--but that's a lingering fate;
+Or if I leave my brains upon the wall!--
+The airy soul can easily o'er-shoot
+Those bounds, with which thou striv'st to pale her in.
+Yes, I will perish in despite of thee;
+And, by the rage that stirs me, if I meet thee
+In the other world, I'll curse thee for this usage.      [_Exit._
+
+_Hæm._ Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,
+Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,
+These feuds within; while I without extinguish,
+Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;
+That brand which sets our city in a flame.
+
+_Tir._ Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period
+To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,
+Shall straight be done.--Lead, Manto, to the tower.
+                                       [_Exeunt_ TIRESIAS _and_ MANTO.
+
+_Hæm._ Follow me all, and help to part this fray,   [_Trumpets again._
+Or fall together in the bloody broil.                       [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ CREON _with_ EURYDICE; PYRACMON, _and his party, giving
+  Ground to_ ADRASTUS.
+
+_Cre._ Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!
+Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.
+
+_Adr._ What would'st thou, hell-hound?
+
+_Cre._ See this brandished dagger;
+Forego the advantage which thy arms have won.
+Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart
+Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest,
+I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast,
+This instrument of my revenge.
+
+_Adr._ Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!
+
+_Cre._ Give order, then, that on this instant, now,
+This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.
+
+_Adr._ Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;
+Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.
+
+_Eur._ Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!
+Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!
+Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,
+After so bravely having fought his cause,
+To perish by the hand of this base villain?
+Why rather rush you not at once together
+All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,
+Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;
+Nor let my death affright you.
+
+_Cre._ Die first thyself, then.
+
+_Adr._ O, I charge thee hold!--
+Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend
+That disobeys.--See, art thou now appeased?      [_Exeunt Attendants._
+Or is there aught else yet remains to do,
+That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood
+With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!
+
+_Cre._ Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.
+
+_Eur._ Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save
+Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,
+Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;
+With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.
+For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;
+His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword;
+Lest I be ravished after thou art slain.
+
+_Adr._ Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do?
+
+_Cre._ Do what thou wilt, when she is dead; my soldiers
+With numbers will o'erpower thee. Is't thy wish
+Eurydice should fall before thee?
+
+_Adr._ Traitor, no;
+Better that thou, and I, and all mankind,
+Should be no more.
+
+_Cre._ Then cast thy sword away,
+And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike.
+
+_Adr._ Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause.
+My father, when he blest me, gave me this:
+My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge;
+If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee.--
+Yet love now charms it from me; which in all
+The hazards of my life I never lost.
+'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust;
+Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal.          [_Gives it._
+
+_Cre._ Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall:
+Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance.
+Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee.--
+Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch
+The king; hang Hæmon up, for he is loyal,
+And will oppose me.--Come, sir, are you ready?
+
+_Adr._ Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare.
+
+_Eur._ Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.
+
+_Adr._ Off, madam, or we perish both; behold
+I'm not unarmed, my poniard's in my hand;
+Therefore, away.
+
+_Eur._ I'll guard your life with mine.
+
+_Cre._ Die both, then; there is now no time for dallying.
+                                                    [_Kills_ EURYDICE.
+
+_Eur._ Ah, prince, farewell! farewell, my dear Adrastus!      [_Dies._
+
+_Adr._ Unheard-of monster! eldest-born of hell!
+Down, to thy primitive flame.                          [_Stabs_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ Help, soldiers, help;
+Revenge me.
+
+_Adr._ More; yet more; a thousand wounds!
+I'll stamp thee still, thus, to the gaping furies.
+                            [ADRASTUS _falls, killed by the soldiers._
+
+  _Enter_ HÆMON, _Guards, with_ ALCANDER _and_ PYRACMON _bound; the
+   Assassins are driven off._
+
+O Hæmon, I am slain; nor need I name
+The inhuman author of all villainies;
+There he lies gasping.
+
+_Cre._ If I must plunge in flames,
+Burn first my arm; base instrument, unfit
+To act the dictates of my daring mind;
+Burn, burn for ever, O weak substitute
+Of that, the god, ambition.                                   [_Dies._
+
+_Adr._ She's gone;--O deadly marksman, in the heart!
+Yet in the pangs of death she grasps my hand;
+Her lips too tremble, as if she would speak
+Her last farewell.--O, OEdipus, thy fall
+Is great; and nobly now thou goest attended!
+They talk of heroes, and celestial beauties,
+And wondrous pleasures in the other world;
+Let me but find her there, I ask no more.                     [_Dies._
+
+  _Enter a Captain to_ HÆMON; _with_ TERESIAS _and_ MANTO.
+
+_Cap._ O, sir, the queen Jocasta, swift and wild,
+As a robbed tygress bounding o'er the woods,
+Has acted murders that amaze mankind;
+In twisted gold I saw her daughters hang
+On the bed-royal, and her little sons
+Stabbed through the breasts upon the bloody pillows.
+
+_Hæm._ Relentless heavens! is then the fate of Laius
+Never to be atoned? How sacred ought
+Kings' lives be held, when but the death of one
+Demands an empire's blood for expiation!
+But see! the furious mad Jocasta's here.
+
+  _Scene draws, and discovers_ JOCASTA _held by her women and stabbed
+  in many places of her Bosom, her Hair dishevelled, her Children
+  slain upon the Bed._
+
+Was ever yet a sight of so much horror
+And pity brought to view!
+
+_Joc._ Ah, cruel women!
+Will you not let me take my last farewell
+Of those dear babes? O let me run, and seal
+My melting soul upon their bubbling wounds!
+I'll print upon their coral mouths such kisses,
+As shall recal their wandering spirits home.
+Let me go, let me go, or I will tear you piece-meal.
+Help, Hæmon, help;
+Help, OEdipus; help, Gods; Jocasta dies.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _above._
+
+_OEdip._ I've found a window, and I thank the gods
+'Tis quite unbarred; sure, by the distant noise,
+The height will fit my fatal purpose well.
+
+_Joc._ What hoa, my OEdipus! see where he stands!
+His groping ghost is lodged upon a tower,
+Nor can it find the road. Mount, mount, my soul;
+I'll wrap thy shivering spirit in lambent flames; and so we'll sail.--
+But see! we're landed on the happy coast;
+And all the golden strands are covered o'er
+With glorious gods, that come to try our cause.
+Jove, Jove, whose majesty now sinks me down,
+He, who himself burns in unlawful fires,
+Shall judge, and shall acquit us. O, 'tis done;
+'Tis fixt by fate, upon record divine;
+And OEdipus shall now be ever mine.                           [_Dies._
+
+_OEdip._ Speak, Hæmon; what has fate been doing there?
+What dreadful deed has mad Jocasta done?
+
+_Hæm._ The queen herself, and all your wretched offspring,
+Are by her fury slain.
+
+_OEdip._ By all my woes,
+She has outdone me in revenge and murder,
+And I should envy her the sad applause:
+But oh, my children! oh, what have they done?
+This was not like the mercy of the heavens,
+To set her madness on such cruelty:
+This stirs me more than all my sufferings,
+And with my last breath I must call you tyrants.
+
+_Hæm._ What mean you, sir?
+
+_OEdip._ Jocasta! lo, I come.
+O Laius, Labdacus, and all you spirits
+Of the Cadmean race, prepare to meet me,
+All weeping ranged along the gloomy shore;
+Extend your arms to embrace me, for I come.
+May all the gods, too, from their battlements,
+Behold and wonder at a mortal's daring;
+And, when I knock the goal of dreadful death,
+Shout and applaud me with a clap of thunder.
+Once more, thus winged by horrid fate, I come,
+Swift as a falling meteor; lo, I fly,
+And thus go downwards to the darker sky.
+                         [_Thunder. He flings himself from the Window:
+                          The Thebans gather about his Body._
+
+_Hæm._ O prophet, OEdipus is now no more!
+O cursed effect of the most deep despair!
+
+_Tir._ Cease your complaints, and bear his body hence;
+The dreadful sight will daunt the drooping Thebans,
+Whom heaven decrees to raise with peace and glory.
+Yet, by these terrible examples warned,
+The sacred Fury thus alarms the world:--
+Let none, though ne'er so virtuous, great, and high,
+Be judged entirely blest before they die.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Imitated from the commencement of the plague in the first book of
+   the _Iliad_.
+
+2. The story of the Sphinx is generally known: She was a monster, who
+   delighted in putting a riddle to the Thebans, and slaying each poor
+   dull Boeotian, who could not interpret it. OEdipus guessed the
+   enigma, on which the monster destroyed herself for shame. Thus he
+   attained the throne of Thebes, and the bed of Jocasta.
+
+3. To _dare a lark_, is to fly a hawk, or present some other object of
+   fear, to engage the bird's attention, and prevent it from taking
+   wing, while the fowler draws his net:
+
+     Farewell, nobility; let his grace go forward,
+     And dare us with his cap, like larks.
+                                   _Henry VIII._ Act III. Scene II.
+
+4. The carelessness of OEdipus about the fate of his predecessor is
+   very unnatural; but to such expedients dramatists are often
+   reduced, to communicate to their audience what must have been known
+   to the persons of the drama.
+
+5. _Start_ is here, and in p. 136, used for _started_, being borrowed
+   from _sterte_, the old perfect of the verb.
+
+6. It is a common idea, that falling stars, as they are called, are
+   converted into a sort of jelly. "Among the rest, I had often the
+   opportunity to see the seeming shooting of the stars from place to
+   place, and sometimes they appeared as if falling to the ground,
+   where I once or twice found a white jelly-like matter among the
+   grass, which I imagined to be distilled from them; and hence
+   foolishly conjectured, that the stars themselves must certainly
+   consist of a like substance."
+
+7. Serpens, serpentem vorans, fit draco. Peccata, peccatis
+   superaddita, monstra fiunt. _Hieroglyphica animalium, per
+   Archibaldum Simsonum Dalkethensis Ecclesiæ pastorem, p. 95._
+
+8. The idea of this sacred grove seems to be taken from that of
+   Colonus near Athens, dedicated to the Eumenides, which gives name
+   to Sophocles's second tragedy. Seneca describes the scene of the
+   incantation in the following lines:
+
+       _Est procul ab urbe lucus illicibus niger
+     Dircæa circa vallis irriguæ loca.
+     Cupressus altis exerens silvis caput
+     Virente semper alligat trunco nemus;
+     Curvosque tendit quercus et putres situ
+     Annosa ramos: hujus abrupit latus
+     Edax vetustas: illa jam fessa cadens
+     Radice, fulta pendet aliena trabe.
+     Amara baccas laurus; et tiliæ leves
+     Et Paphia myrtus; et per immensum mare
+     Motura remos alnus; et Phoebo obvia
+     Enode Zephyris pinus opponens latus.
+     Medio stat ingens arbor, atque umbra gravi
+     Silvas minores urget; et magno ambitu
+     Diffusa ramos, una defendit nemus.
+     Tristis sub illa, lucis et Phoebi inscius
+     Restagnat humor, frigore æterno rigens.
+     Limosa pigrum circuit fontem palus.
+                                   Actus Tertius. Scena prima._
+
+   This diffuse account of the different kinds of forest trees, which
+   composed the enchanted grove, is very inartificially put into the
+   mouth of Creon, who, notwithstanding the horrible message which he
+   has to deliver to OEdipus from the ghost, finds time to solace the
+   king with this long description of a place, which he doubtless knew
+   as well as Creon himself. Dryden, on the contrary, has, with great
+   address, rendered the description necessary, by the violence
+   committed within the sacred precinct, and turned it, not upon
+   minute and rhetorical detail, but upon the general awful properties
+   of this consecrated ground. Lucan's fine description of the
+   Massyllian forest, and that of the enchanted grove in Tasso, have
+   been both consulted by our author.]
+
+9. The quarrel betwixt OEdipus and the prophet, who announces his
+   guilt, is imitated from a similar scene in the OEdipus Tyrannus.
+
+10. Borrowed from Shakespeare;
+
+     And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.
+                                   _Richard II._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  What Sophocles could undertake alone,
+  Our poets found a work for more than one;
+  And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,
+  With all their force, to draw the ponderous mass from Greece;
+  A weight that bent even Seneca's strong muse,
+  And which Corneille's shoulders did refuse.
+  So hard it is the Athenian harp to string!
+  So much two consuls yield to one just king.
+  Terror and pity this whole poem sway;
+  The mightiest machines that can mount a play.
+  How heavy will those vulgar souls be found,
+  Whom two such engines cannot move from ground!
+  When Greece and Rome have smiled upon this birth,
+  You can but damn for one poor spot of earth;
+  And when your children find your judgment such,
+  They'll scorn their sires, and wish themselves born Dutch;
+  Each haughty poet will infer with ease,
+  How much his wit must under-write to please.
+  As some strong churl would, brandishing, advance
+  The monumental sword that conquered France;
+  So you, by judging this, your judgment teach,
+  Thus far you like, that is, thus far you reach.
+  Since then the vote of full two thousand years
+  Has crowned this plot, and all the dead are theirs,
+  Think it a debt you pay, not alms you give,
+  And, in your own defence, let this play live.
+  Think them not vain, when Sophocles is shown,
+  To praise his worth they humbly doubt their own.
+  Yet as weak states each other's power assure,
+  Weak poets by conjunction are secure.
+  Their treat is what your palates relish most,
+  Charm! song! and show! a murder and a ghost!
+  We know not what you can desire or hope,
+  To please you more, but burning of a Pope.[1]
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The burning a Pope in effigy, was a ceremony performed upon the
+   anniversary of queen Elizabeth's coronation. When parties ran high
+   betwixt the courtiers and opposition, in the latter part of Charles
+   the II. reign, these anti-papal solemnities were conducted by the
+   latter, with great state and expence, and employed as engines to
+   excite the popular resentment against the duke of York, and his
+   religion. The following curious description of one of these
+   tumultuary processions, in 1679, was extracted by Ralph, from a
+   very scarce pamphlet; it is the ceremony referred to in the
+   epilogue; and it shall be given at length, as the subject is
+   frequently alluded to by Dryden.
+
+   [Illustration:
+    The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinals, Jesuits,
+      Friars, &c.
+    Through the CITY OF LONDON November 17.th 1679.
+
+    London Published January 1808 by William Miller, Albemarle Street.
+    Dryden Works to face Vol 6th page 223]
+
+   "On the said 17th of November, 1679, the bells, generally, about
+   the town, began to ring at three o'clock in the morning. At the
+   approach of the evening, (all things being in readiness) the solemn
+   procession began, setting forth from Moregate, and so passed, first
+   to Aldgate, and thence through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal
+   Exchange, through Cheapside, and so to Temple-bar in the ensuing
+   order, viz.
+
+   "1. Came six whifflers, to clear the way, in pioneer caps, and red
+       waistcoats.
+
+   "2. A bellman ringing, and with a loud (but doleful) voice, crying
+       out all the way, remember Justice Godfrey.
+
+   "3. A dead body, representing justice Godfrey, in a decent black
+       habit, carried before a jesuit, in black, on horse-back, in
+       like manner as he was carried by the assassins to Primrose
+       Hill.
+
+   "4. Next after Sir Edmonbury, so mounted, came a priest in a
+       surplice, with a cope embroidered with dead bones, skeletons,
+       skulls, and the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all
+       those who should murder protestants; and proclaiming it
+       meritorious.
+
+   "5. Then a priest in black alone, with a great silver cross.
+
+   "6. Four carmelites, in white and black habits.
+
+   "7. Four grey-friars, in the proper habits of their order.
+
+   "8. Six jesuits, with bloody daggers.
+
+   "9. A concert of wind music.
+
+   "10. Four bishops, in purple, and lawn sleeves, with a golden
+       crosier on their breast, and crosier-staves in their hands.
+
+   "11. Four other bishops, in _Pontificalibus_, with surplices, and
+       rich embroidered copes, and golden mitres on their heads.
+
+   "12. Six cardinals, in scarlet robes and caps.
+
+   "13. The Pope's doctor, _i.e._ Wakeman,[a] with jesuits-powder in
+       one hand, and an urinal in the other.
+
+   "14. Two priests in surplices, with two golden crosses.
+
+   "Lastly, The Pope, in a lofty, glorious pageant, representing a
+   chair of state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and
+   fringed, and bedecked with golden balls and crosses: At his feet a
+   cushion of state, and two boys in surplices with white silk
+   banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers with an incense pot
+   before them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed in a splendid
+   scarlet gown, lined through with ermin, and richly daubed with gold
+   and silver lace; on his head a triple crown of gold, and a glorious
+   collar of gold and precious stones, St Peter's keys, a number of
+   beads, agnus deis, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his
+   holiness's privy counsellor, the degraded Seraphim, (_anglice_ the
+   devil,) frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and oft
+   times instructing him aloud to destroy his majesty, to forge a
+   protestant plot, and to fire the city again, to which purpose he
+   held an infernal torch in his hand.
+
+   "The whole procession was attended with 150 flambeaux and lights,
+   by order; but so many more came in volunteers, as made up some
+   thousands.
+
+   "Never were the balconies, windows, and houses more numerously
+   lined, or the streets closer throng'd with multitudes of people,
+   all expressing their abhorrence of Popery, with continual shouts
+   and exclamations; so that 'tis modestly computed, that, in the
+   whole progress, there could not be fewer than two hundred thousand
+   spectators.
+
+   "Thus with a slow, and solemn state, they proceeded to Temple Bar;
+   where with innumerable swarms, the houses seemed to be converted
+   into heaps of men, and women, and children, for whose diversion
+   there were provided great variety of excellent fireworks.
+
+   "Temple Bar being, since its rebuilding, adorned with four stately
+   statues, viz. those of Queen Elizabeth and King James, on the
+   inward, or eastern side, fronting the city; and those of King
+   Charles the I. of blessed memory, and our present gracious
+   sovereign, (whom God, in mercy to these nations, long preserve!) on
+   the outside, facing towards Westminster; and the statue of Queen
+   Elizabeth in regard to the day, having on a crown of gilded laurel,
+   and in her hand a golden shield, with this motto inscribed: _The
+   Protestant Religion, and Magna Charta_, and flambeaux placed before
+   it. The Pope being brought up near thereunto, the following song,
+   alluding to the posture of those statues, was sung in parts,
+   between one representing the English Cardinal (_Howard_)[b] and
+   others acting the people:
+
+           CARDINAL NORFOLK.
+
+     From York to London town we come,
+       To talk of Popish ire,
+     To reconcile you all to Rome,
+       And prevent Smithfield fire.
+
+           PLEBEIANS.
+
+     Cease, cease, thou Norfolk Cardinal,
+       See yonder stands Queen Bess;
+     Who sav'd our souls from Popish thrall:
+       O Queen Bess, Queen Bess, Queen Bess!
+
+     Your Popish plot, and Smithfield threat,
+       We do not fear at all;
+     For lo! beneath Queen Bess's feet,
+       You fall, you fall, you fall.
+
+     "'Tis true, our King's on t'other side,
+       A looking tow'rds Whitehall:
+     But could we bring him round about;
+       He'd counterplot you all.
+
+     "Then down with James, and set up Charles,
+       On good Queen Bess's side;
+     That all true Commons, Lords, and Earls,
+       May wish him a fruitfull bride."
+
+     Now God preserve great Charles our King,
+       And eke all honest men;
+     And traitors all to justice bring:
+       Amen, Amen, Amen.
+
+   "Then having entertained the thronging spectators for some time,
+   with the ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared, just
+   over against the inner temple gate, his holiness, after some
+   compliments and reluctancies, was decently toppled from all his
+   grandeur, into the impartial flames; the crafty devil leaving his
+   infallibilityship in the lurch, and laughing as heartily at his
+   deserved ignominious end, as subtle jesuits do at the ruin of
+   bigotted Lay Catholics, whom themselves have drawn in; or, as
+   credulous Coleman's abettors did, when, with pretences of a
+   reprieve at last gasp, they had made him vomit up his soul with a
+   lye, and sealed his dangerous chops with a halter. This justice was
+   attended with a prodigious shout, that might be heard far beyond
+   Somerset-house; and 'twas believed the echo, by continued
+   reverberations, before it ceased, reached _Scotland_, (the Duke was
+   then there;) France, and even Rome, itself, damping them all with a
+   dreadfull astonishment."
+
+   From a very rare broadside, in the collection made by Narcissus
+   Luttrell.
+
+   Footnotes:
+   a. Sir George Wakeman was physician to the queen, and a catholic.
+      He was tried for the memorable Popish plot and acquitted, the
+      credit of the witnesses being now blasted, by the dying
+      declarations of those who suffered.
+
+   b. Philip, the 3d son of Henry Earl of Arundel, and brother to the
+      Duke of Norfolk, created a Cardinal in 1675. He was a second
+      cousin of Lady Elizabeth Howard, afterwards the wife of our
+      poet.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA:
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                        TRUTH FOUND TOO LATE.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+             _Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,
+             Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus._
+                                   HOR.
+
+
+
+
+                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
+
+
+The story of Troilus and Cressida was one of the more modern fables,
+engrafted, during the dark ages, on "the tale of Troy divine."
+Chaucer, who made it the subject of a long and somewhat dull poem,
+professes to have derived his facts from an author of the middle ages,
+called Lollius, to whom he often refers, and who he states to have
+written in Latin. Tyrwhitt disputes the existence of this personage,
+and supposes Chaucer's original to have been the _Philostrato dell'
+amorose fatiche de Troilo,_ a work of Boccacio. But Chaucer was never
+reluctant in acknowledging obligations to his contemporaries, when
+such really existed; and Mr Tyrwhitt's opinion seems to be
+successfully combated by Mr Godwin, in his "Life of Chaucer." The
+subject, whencesoever derived, was deemed by Shakespeare worthy of the
+stage; and his tragedy, of Troilus and Cressida, contains so many
+scenes of distinguished excellence, that it could have been wished our
+author had mentioned it with more veneration. In truth, even the
+partiality of an editor must admit, that on this occasion, the modern
+improvements of Dryden shew to very little advantage beside the
+venerable structure to which they have been attached. The arrangement
+of the plot is, indeed, more artificially modelled; but the preceding
+age, during which the infidelity of Cressida was proverbially current,
+could as little have endured a catastrophe turning upon the discovery
+of her innocence, as one which should have exhibited Helen chaste, or
+Hector a coward. In Dryden's time, the prejudice against this
+unfortunate female was probably forgotten, as her history had become
+less popular. There appears, however, something too nice and
+fastidious in the critical rule, which exacts that the hero and
+heroine of the drama shall be models of virtuous perfection. In the
+most interesting of the ancient plays we find this limitation
+neglected, with great success; and it would have been more natural to
+have brought about the catastrophe on the plan of Shakespeare and
+Chaucer, than by the forced mistake in which Dryden's lovers are
+involved, and the stale expedient of Cressida's killing herself, to
+evince her innocence. For the superior order, and regard to the unity
+of place, with which Dryden has new-modelled the scenes and entries,
+he must be allowed the full praise which he claims in the preface.
+
+In the dialogue, considered as distinct from the plot, Dryden appears
+not to have availed himself fully of the treasures of his predecessor.
+He has pitilessly retrenched the whole scene, in the 3d act, between
+Ulysses and Achilles, full of the purest and most admirable moral
+precept, expressed in the most poetical and dignified language[1].
+Probably this omission arose from Dryden's desire to simplify the
+plot, by leaving out the intrigues of the Grecian chiefs, and limiting
+the interest to the amours of Troilus and Cressida. But he could not
+be insensible to the merit of this scene, though he has supplied it by
+one far inferior, in which Ulysses is introduced, using gross flattery
+to the buffoon Thersites. In the latter part of the play, Dryden has
+successfully exerted his own inventive powers. The quarrelling scene
+between Hector and Troilus is very impressive, and no bad imitation of
+that betwixt Brutus and Cassius, with which Dryden seems to have been
+so much charmed, and which he has repeatedly striven to emulate. The
+parting of Hector and Andromache contains some affecting passages,
+some of which may be traced back to Homer; although the pathos, upon
+the whole, is far inferior to that of the noted scene in the Iliad,
+and destitute of the noble simplicity of the Grecian bard.
+
+Mr Godwin has justly remarked, that the delicacy of Chaucer's ancient
+tale has suffered even in the hands of Shakespeare; but in those of
+Dryden it has undergone a far deeper deterioration. Whatever is coarse
+and naked in Shakespeare, has been dilated into ribaldry by the poet
+laureat of Charles the second; and the character of Pandarus, in
+particular, is so grossly heightened, as to disgrace even the obliging
+class to whom that unfortunate procurer has bequeathed his name. So
+far as this play is to be considered as an alteration of Shakespeare,
+I fear it must be allowed, that our author has suppressed some of his
+finest poetry, and exaggerated some of his worst faults.
+
+Troilus and Cressida was published in 1679.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. I need only recall to the reader's remembrance the following
+   beautiful passage, inculcating the unabating energy necessary to
+   maintain, in the race of life, the ground which has been already
+   gained.
+
+     _Ulys._ Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
+     Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
+     A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
+     These scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
+     As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
+     As done: Perséverance, dear my lord,
+     Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang
+     Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
+     In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
+     For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
+     Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
+     For emulation hath a thousand sons,
+     That one by one pursue: If you give way,
+     Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
+     Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
+     And leave you hindmost.--
+     Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
+     Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
+     O'er run and trampled on: Then what they do in present,
+     Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:
+     For time is like a fashionable host,
+     That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
+     And with his arms out stretch'd, as he would fly,
+     Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
+     And Farewel goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
+     Remuneration for the thing it was;
+     For beauty, wit,
+     High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
+     Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
+     To envious and calumniating time.
+     One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,--
+     That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
+     Though they are made and moulded of things past;
+     And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
+     More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
+     The present eye praises the present object:
+     Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
+     That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
+     Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
+     Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
+     And still it might, and yet it may again,
+     If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
+     And case thy reputation in thy tent;
+     Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
+     Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
+     And drave great Mars to faction.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                               ROBERT,
+
+                        EARL OF SUNDERLAND[1],
+
+          PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE, ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S
+                  MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY-COUNCIL, &C.
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+Since I cannot promise you much of poetry in my play, it is but
+reasonable that I should secure you from any part of it in my
+dedication. And indeed I cannot better distinguish the exactness of
+your taste from that of other men, than by the plainness and sincerity
+of my address. I must keep my hyperboles in reserve for men of other
+understandings. An hungry appetite after praise, and a strong
+digestion of it, will bear the grossness of that diet; but one of so
+critical a judgment as your lordship, who can set the bounds of just
+and proper in every subject, would give me small encouragement for so
+bold an undertaking. I more than suspect, my lord, that you would not
+do common justice to yourself; and, therefore, were I to give that
+character of you, which I think you truly merit, I would make my
+appeal from your lordship to the reader, and would justify myself from
+flattery by the public voice, whatever protestation you might enter to
+the contrary. But I find I am to take other measures with your
+lordship; I am to stand upon my guard with you, and to approach you as
+warily as Horace did Augustus:
+
+  _Cui malè si palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus._
+
+An ill-timed, or an extravagant commendation, would not pass upon you;
+but you would keep off such a dedicator at arms-end, and send him back
+with his encomiums to this lord, or that lady, who stood in need of
+such trifling merchandise. You see, my lord, what an awe you have upon
+me, when I dare not offer you that incense which would be acceptable
+to other patrons; but am forced to curb myself from ascribing to you
+those honours, which even an enemy could not deny you. Yet I must
+confess, I never practised that virtue of moderation (which is
+properly your character) with so much reluctancy as now: for it
+hinders me from being true to my own knowledge, in not witnessing your
+worth, and deprives me of the only means which I had left, to shew the
+world that true honour and uninterested respect which I have always
+paid you. I would say somewhat, if it were possible which might
+distinguish that veneration I have for you, from the flatteries of
+those who adore your fortune. But the eminence of your condition, in
+this particular, is my unhappiness; for it renders whatever I would
+say suspected. Professions of service, submissions, and attendance,
+are the practice of all men to the great; and commonly they, who have
+the least sincerity, perform them best; as they, who are least engaged
+in love, have their tongues the freest to counterfeit a passion. For
+my own part, I never could shake off the rustic bashfulness which
+hangs upon my nature; but, valuing myself at as little as I am worth,
+have been afraid to render even the common duties of respect to those
+who are in power. The ceremonious visits, which are generally paid on
+such occasions, are not my talent. They may be real even in courtiers,
+but they appear with such a face of interest, that a modest man would
+think himself in danger of having his sincerity mistaken for his
+design. My congratulations keep their distance, and pass no farther
+than my heart. There it is that I have all the joy imaginable, when I
+see true worth rewarded, and virtue uppermost in the world.
+
+If, therefore, there were one to whom I had the honour to be known;
+and to know him so perfectly, that I could say, without flattery, he
+had all the depth of understanding that was requisite in an able
+statesman, and all that honesty which commonly is wanting; that he was
+brave without vanity, and knowing without positiveness; that he was
+loyal to his prince, and a lover of his country; that his principles
+were full of moderation, and all his counsels such as tended to heal,
+and not to widen, the breaches of the nation: that in all his
+conversation there appeared a native candour, and a desire of doing
+good in all his actions: if such an one, whom I have described, were
+at the helm; if he had risen by his merits, and were chosen out in the
+necessity and pressures of affairs, to remedy our confusions by the
+seasonableness of his advice, and to put a stop to our ruin, when we
+were just rolling downward to the precipice; I should then
+congratulate the age in which I live, for the common safety; I should
+not despair of the republic, though Hannibal were at the gates; I
+should send up my vows for the success of such an action, as Virgil
+did, on the like occasion, for his patron, when he was raising up his
+country from the desolations of a civil war:
+
+  _Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo
+  Ne, superi, prohibete._
+
+I know not whither I am running, in this extacy which is now upon me:
+I am almost ready to re-assume the ancient rights of poetry; to point
+out, and prophecy the man, who was born for no less an undertaking,
+and whom posterity shall bless for its accomplishment. Methinks, I am
+already taking fire from such a character, and making room for him,
+under a borrowed name, amongst the heroes of an epic poem. Neither
+could mine, or some more happy genius, want encouragement under such a
+patron:
+
+  _Pollio amat nostram, quamvis sit rustica, musam._
+
+But these are considerations afar off, my lord: the former part of the
+prophecy must be first accomplished; the quiet of the nation must be
+secured; and a mutual trust, betwixt prince and people, be renewed;
+and then this great and good man will have leisure for the ornaments
+of peace; and make our language as much indebted to his care, as the
+French is to the memory of their famous Richelieu[2]. You know, my
+lord, how low he laid the foundations of so great a work; that he
+began it with a grammar and a dictionary; without which all those
+remarks and observations, which have since been made, had been
+performed to as little purpose, as it would be to consider the
+furniture of the rooms, before the contrivance of the house. Propriety
+must first be stated, ere any measures of elegance can be taken.
+Neither is one Vaugelas sufficient for such a work[3]. It was the
+employment of the whole academy for many years; for the perfect
+knowledge of a tongue was never attained by any single person. The
+court, the college, and the town, must be joined in it. And as our
+English is a composition of the dead and living tongues, there is
+required a perfect knowledge, not only of the Greek and Latin, but of
+the old German, the French, and the Italian; and, to help all these, a
+conversation with those authors of our own, who have written with the
+fewest faults in prose and verse. But how barbarously we yet write and
+speak, your lordship knows, and I am sufficiently sensible in my own
+English. For I am often put to a stand, in considering whether what I
+write be the idiom of the tongue, or false grammar, and nonsense
+couched beneath that specious name of Anglicism; and have no other way
+to clear my doubts, but by translating my English into Latin, and
+thereby trying what sense the words will bear in a more stable
+language. I am desirous, if it were possible, that we might all write
+with the same certainty of words, and purity of phrase, to which the
+Italians first arrived, and after them the French; at least that we
+might advance so far, as our tongue is capable of such a standard. It
+would mortify an Englishman to consider, that from the time of Boccace
+and of Petrarch, the Italian has varied very little; and that the
+English of Chaucer, their contemporary, is not to be understood
+without the help of an old dictionary. But their Goth and Vandal had
+the fortune to be grafted on a Roman stock; ours has the disadvantage
+to be founded on the Dutch[4]. We are full of monosyllables, and those
+clogged with consonants, and our pronunciation is effeminate; all
+which are enemies to a sounding language. It is true, that to supply
+our poverty, we have trafficked with our neighbour nations; by which
+means we abound as much in words, as Amsterdam does in religions; but
+to order them, and make them useful after their admission, is the
+difficulty. A greater progress has been made in this, since his
+majesty's return, than, perhaps, since the conquest to his time. But
+the better part of the work remains unfinished; and that which has
+been done already, since it has only been in the practice of some few
+writers, must be digested into rules and method, before it can be
+profitable to the general. Will your lordship give me leave to speak
+out at last? and to acquaint the world, that from your encouragement
+and patronage, we may one day expect to speak and write a language,
+worthy of the English wit, and which foreigners may not disdain to
+learn? Your birth, your education, your natural endowments, the former
+employments which you have had abroad, and that which, to the joy of
+good men you now exercise at home, seem all to conspire to this
+design: the genius of the nation seems to call you out as it were by
+name, to polish and adorn your native language, and to take from it
+the reproach of its barbarity. It is upon this encouragement that I
+have adventured on the following critique, which I humbly present you,
+together with the play; in which, though I have not had the leisure,
+nor indeed the encouragement, to proceed to the principal subject of
+it, which is the words and thoughts that are suitable to tragedy; yet
+the whole discourse has a tendency that way, and is preliminary to it.
+In what I have already done, I doubt not but I have contradicted some
+of my former opinions, in my loose essays of the like nature; but of
+this, I dare affirm, that it is the fruit of my riper age and
+experience, and that self-love, or envy have no part in it. The
+application to English authors is my own, and therein, perhaps, I may
+have erred unknowingly; but the foundation of the rules is reason, and
+the authority of those living critics who have had the honour to be
+known to you abroad, as well as of the ancients, who are not less of
+your acquaintance. Whatsoever it be, I submit it to your lordship's
+judgment, from which I never will appeal, unless it be to your good
+nature, and your candour. If you can allow an hour of leisure to the
+perusal of it, I shall be fortunate that I could so long entertain
+you; if not, I shall at least have the satisfaction to know, that your
+time was more usefully employed upon the public. I am,
+
+  MY LORD,
+
+    Your Lordship's most Obedient,
+      Humble Servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. This was the famous Earl of Sunderland, who, being a Tory under the
+   reign of Charles, a Papist in that of his successor, and a Whig in
+   that of William, was a favourite minister of all these monarchs. He
+   was a man of eminent abilities; and our author shews a high opinion
+   of his taste, by abstaining from the gross flattery, which was then
+   the fashionable stile of dedication.
+
+2. Alluding to the institution of an academy for fixing the language,
+   often proposed about this period.
+
+3. Author of a treatise on the French language.
+
+4. Dutch is here used generally for the High Dutch or German.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+The poet Æschylus was held in the same veneration by the Athenians of
+after-ages, as Shakespeare is by us; and Longinus has judged, in
+favour of him, that he had a noble boldness of expression, and that
+his imaginations were lofty and heroic; but, on the other side,
+Quintilian affirms, that he was daring to extravagance. It is certain,
+that he affected pompous words, and that his sense was obscured by
+figures; notwithstanding these imperfections, the value of his
+writings after his decease was such, that his countrymen ordained an
+equal reward to those poets, who could alter his plays to be acted on
+the theatre, with those whose productions were wholly new, and of
+their own. The case is not the same in England; though the
+difficulties of altering are greater, and our reverence for
+Shakespeare much more just, than that of the Grecians for Æschylus. In
+the age of that poet, the Greek tongue was arrived to its full
+perfection; they had then amongst them an exact standard of writing
+and of speaking: the English language is not capable of such a
+certainty; and we are at present so far from it, that we are wanting
+in the very foundation of it, a perfect grammar. Yet it must be
+allowed to the present age, that the tongue in general is so much
+refined since Shakespeare's time, that many of his words, and more of
+his phrases, are scarce intelligible. And of those which we
+understand, some are ungrammatical, others coarse; and his whole style
+is so pestered with figurative expressions, that it is as affected as
+it is obscure. It is true, that in his latter plays he had worn off
+somewhat of the rust; but the tragedy, which I have undertaken to
+correct, was in all probability one of his first endeavours on the
+stage.
+
+The original story was written by one Lollius a Lombard, in Latin
+verse, and translated by Chaucer into English; intended, I suppose, a
+satire on the inconstancy of women: I find nothing of it among the
+ancients; not so much as the name Cressida once mentioned.
+Shakespeare, (as I hinted) in the apprenticeship of his writing,
+modelled it into that play, which is now called by the name of
+"Troilus and Cressida," but so lamely is it left to us, that it is not
+divided into acts; which fault I ascribe to the actors who printed it
+after Shakespeare's death; and that too so carelessly, that a more
+uncorrected copy I never saw. For the play itself, the author seems to
+have begun it with some fire; the characters of Pandarus and
+Thersites, are promising enough; but as if he grew weary of his task,
+after an entrance or two, he lets them fall: and the latter part of
+the tragedy is nothing but a confusion of drums and trumpets,
+excursions and alarms. The chief persons, who give name to the
+tragedy, are left alive; Cressida is false, and is not punished. Yet,
+after all, because the play was Shakespeare's, and that there appeared
+in some places of it the admirable genius of the author, I undertook
+to remove that heap of rubbish under which many excellent thoughts lay
+wholly buried. Accordingly, I new modelled the plot, threw out many
+unnecessary persons, improved those characters which were begun and
+left unfinished, as Hector, Troilus, Pandarus, and Thersites, and
+added that of Andromache. After this, I made, with no small trouble,
+an order and connection of all the scenes; removing them from the
+places where they were inartificially set; and, though it was
+impossible to keep them all unbroken, because the scene must be
+sometimes in the city and sometimes in the camp, yet I have so ordered
+them, that there is a coherence of them with one another, and a
+dependence on the main design; no leaping from Troy to the Grecian
+tents, and thence back again, in the same act, but a due proportion of
+time allowed for every motion. I need not say that I have refined his
+language, which before was obsolete; but I am willing to acknowledge,
+that as I have often drawn his English nearer to our times, so I have
+sometimes conformed my own to his; and consequently, the language is
+not altogether so pure as it is significant. The scenes of Pandarus
+and Cressida, of Troilus and Pandarus, of Andromache with Hector and
+the Trojans, in the second act, are wholly new; together with that of
+Nestor and Ulysses with Thersites, and that of Thersites with Ajax and
+Achilles.  I will not weary my reader with the scenes which are added
+of Pandarus and the lovers, in the third, and those of Thersites,
+which are wholly altered; but I cannot omit the last scene in it,
+which is almost half the act, betwixt Troilus and Hector. The occasion
+of raising it was hinted to me by Mr Betterton; the contrivance and
+working of it was my own. They who think to do me an injury, by
+saying, that it is an imitation of the scene betwixt Brutus and
+Cassius, do me an honour, by supposing I could imitate the
+incomparable Shakespeare; but let me add, that if Shakespeare's scene,
+or that faulty copy of it in "Amintor and Melantius," had never been,
+yet Euripides had furnished me with an excellent example in his
+"Iphigenia," between Agamemnon and Menelaus; and from thence, indeed,
+the last turn of it is borrowed. The occasion which Shakespeare,
+Euripides, and Fletcher, have all taken, is the same,--grounded upon
+friendship; and the quarrel of two virtuous men, raised by natural
+degrees to the extremity of passion, is conducted in all three, to the
+declination of the same passion, and concludes with a warm renewing of
+their friendship. But the particular ground-work which Shakespeare has
+taken, is incomparably the best; because he has not only chosen two of
+the greatest heroes of their age, but has likewise interested the
+liberty of Rome, and their own honours, who were the redeemers of it,
+in this debate. And if he has made Brutus, who was naturally a patient
+man, to fly into excess at first, let it be remembered in his defence,
+that, just before, he has received the news of Portia's death; whom
+the poet, on purpose neglecting a little chronology, supposes to have
+died before Brutus, only to give him an occasion of being more easily
+exasperated. Add to this, that the injury he had received from
+Cassius, had long been brooding in his mind; and that a melancholy
+man, upon consideration of an affront, especially from a friend, would
+be more eager in his passion, than he who had given it, though
+naturally more choleric. Euripides, whom I have followed, has raised
+the quarrel betwixt two brothers, who were friends. The foundation of
+the scene was this: The Grecians were wind-bound at the port of Aulis,
+and the oracle had said, that they could not sail, unless Agamemnon
+delivered up his daughter to be sacrificed: he refuses; his brother
+Menelaus urges the public safety; the father defends himself by
+arguments of natural affection, and hereupon they quarrel. Agamemnon
+is at last convinced, and promises to deliver up Iphigenia, but so
+passionately laments his loss, that Menelaus is grieved to have been
+the occasion of it, and, by a return of kindness, offers to intercede
+for him with the Grecians, that his daughter might not be sacrificed.
+But my friend Mr Rymer has so largely, and with so much judgment,
+described this scene, in comparing it with that of Melantius and
+Amintor, that it is superfluous to say more of it; I only named the
+heads of it, that any reasonable man might judge it was from thence I
+modelled my scene betwixt Troilus and Hector. I will conclude my
+reflections on it, with a passage of Longinus, concerning Plato's
+imitation of Homer: "We ought not to regard a good imitation as a
+theft, but as a beautiful idea of him who undertakes to imitate, by
+forming himself on the invention and the work of another man; for he
+enters into the lists like a new wrestler, to dispute the prize with
+the former champion. This sort of emulation, says Hesiod, is
+honourable, [Greek: Agathê d' eris esti Brotoisin]--when we combat for
+victory with a hero, and are not without glory even in our overthrow.
+Those great men, whom we propose to ourselves as patterns of our
+imitation, serve us as a torch, which is lifted up before us, to
+enlighten our passage, and often elevate our thoughts as high as the
+conception we have of our author's genius."
+
+I have been so tedious in three acts, that I shall contract myself in
+the two last. The beginning scenes of the fourth act are either added
+or changed wholly by me; the middle of it is Shakespeare altered, and
+mingled with my own; three or four of the last scenes are altogether
+new. And the whole fifth act, both the plot and the writing, are my
+own additions.
+
+But having written so much for imitation of what is excellent, in that
+part of the preface which related only to myself, methinks it would
+neither be unprofitable nor unpleasant to inquire how far we ought to
+imitate our own poets, Shakespeare and Fletcher, in their tragedies;
+and this will occasion another inquiry, how those two writers differ
+between themselves: but since neither of these questions can be
+solved, unless some measures be first taken, by which we may be
+enabled to judge truly of their writings, I shall endeavour, as
+briefly as I can, to discover the grounds and reason of all criticism,
+applying them in this place only to Tragedy. Aristotle with his
+interpreters, and Horace, and Longinus, are the authors to whom I owe
+my lights; and what part soever of my own plays, or of this, which no
+mending could make regular, shall fall under the condemnation of such
+judges, it would be impudence in me to defend. I think it no shame to
+retract my errors, and am well pleased to suffer in the cause, if the
+art may be improved at my expence: I therefore proceed to
+
+                 THE GROUNDS OF CRITICISM IN TRAGEDY.
+
+Tragedy is thus defined by Aristotle (omitting what I thought
+unnecessary in his definition). It is an imitation of one entire,
+great, and probable action; not told, but represented; which, by
+moving in us fear and pity, is conducive to the purging of those two
+passions in our minds. More largely thus: Tragedy describes or paints
+an action, which action must have all the properties above named.
+First, it must be one or single; that is, it must not be a history of
+one man's life, suppose of Alexander the Great, or Julius Cæsar, but
+one single action of theirs. This condemns all Shakespeare's
+historical plays, which are rather chronicles represented, than
+tragedies; and all double action of plays. As, to avoid a satire upon
+others, I will make bold with my own "Marriage A-la-mode," where there
+are manifestly two actions, not depending on one another; but in
+"OEdipus" there cannot properly be said to be two actions, because the
+love of Adrastus and Eurydice has a necessary dependence on the
+principal design into which it is woven. The natural reason of this
+rule is plain; for two different independent actions distract the
+attention and concernment of the audience, and consequently destroy
+the intention of the poet; if his business be to move terror and pity,
+and one of his actions he comical, the other tragical, the former will
+divert the people, and utterly make void his greater purpose.
+Therefore, as in perspective, so in tragedy, there must be a point of
+sight in which all the lines terminate; otherwise the eye wanders, and
+the work is false. This was the practice of the Grecian stage. But
+Terence made an innovation in the Roman: all his plays have double
+actions; for it was his custom to translate two Greek comedies, and to
+weave them into one of his, yet so, that both their actions were
+comical, and one was principal, the other but secondary or
+subservient. And this has obtained on the English stage, to give us
+the pleasure of variety.
+
+As the action ought to be one, it ought, as such, to have order in it;
+that is, to have a natural beginning, a middle, and an end. A natural
+beginning, says Aristotle, is that which could not necessarily have
+been placed after another thing; and so of the rest. This
+consideration will arraign all plays after the new model of Spanish
+plots, where accident is heaped upon accident, and that which is first
+might as reasonably be last; an inconvenience not to be remedied, but
+by making one accident naturally produce another, otherwise it is a
+farce and not a play. Of this nature is the "Slighted Maid;" where
+there is no scene in the first act, which might not by as good reason
+be in the fifth. And if the action ought to be one, the tragedy ought
+likewise to conclude with the action of it. Thus in "Mustapha," the
+play should naturally have ended with the death of Zanger, and not
+have given us the grace-cup after dinner, of Solyman's divorce from
+Roxolana.
+
+The following properties of the action are so easy, that they need not
+my explaining. It ought to be great, and to consist of great persons,
+to distinguish it from comedy, where the action is trivial, and the
+persons of inferior rank. The last quality of the action is, that it
+ought to be probable, as well as admirable and great. It is not
+necessary that there should be historical truth in it; but always
+necessary that there should be a likeness of truth, something that is
+more than barely possible; _probable_ being that which succeeds, or
+happens, oftener than it misses. To invent therefore a probability and
+to make it wonderful, is the most difficult undertaking in the art of
+poetry; for that, which is not wonderful, is not great; and that,
+which is not probable, will not delight a reasonable audience. This
+action, thus described, must be represented and not told, to
+distinguish dramatic poetry from epic: but I hasten to the end or
+scope of tragedy, which is, to rectify or purge our passions, fear and
+pity.
+
+To instruct delightfully is the general end of all poetry. Philosophy
+instructs, but it performs its work by precept; which is not
+delightful, or not so delightful as example. To purge the passions by
+example, is therefore the particular instruction which belongs to
+tragedy. Rapin, a judicious critic, has observed from Aristotle, that
+pride and want of commiseration are the most predominant vices in
+mankind; therefore, to cure us of these two, the inventors of tragedy
+have chosen to work upon two other passions, which are, fear and pity.
+We are wrought to fear, by their setting before our eyes some terrible
+example of misfortune, which happened to persons of the highest
+quality; for such an action demonstrates to us, that no condition is
+privileged from the turns of fortune; this must of necessity cause
+terror in us, and consequently abate our pride. But when we see that
+the most virtuous, as well as the greatest, are not exempt from such
+misfortunes, that consideration moves pity in us, and insensibly works
+us to be helpful to, and tender over, the distressed; which is the
+noblest and most godlike of moral virtues, Here it is observable, that
+it is absolutely necessary to make a man virtuous, if we desire he
+should be pitied: we lament not, but detest, a wicked man; we are glad
+when we behold his crimes are punished, and that poetical justice is
+done upon him. Euripides was censured by the critics of his time, for
+making his chief characters too wicked; for example, Phædra, though
+she loved her son-in-law with reluctancy, and that it was a curse upon
+her family for offending Venus, yet was thought too ill a pattern for
+the stage. Shall we therefore banish all characters of villainy? I
+confess I am not of that opinion; but it is necessary that the hero of
+the play be not a villain; that is, the characters, which should move
+our pity, ought to have virtuous inclinations, and degrees of moral
+goodness in them. As for a perfect character of virtue, it never was
+in nature, and therefore there can be no imitation of it; but there
+are allays of frailty to be allowed for the chief persons, yet so that
+the good which is in them shall outweigh the bad, and consequently
+leave room for punishment on the one side, and pity on the other.
+
+After all, if any one will ask me, whether a tragedy cannot be made
+upon any other grounds than those of exciting pity and terror in
+us;--Bossu, the best of modern critics, answers thus in general: That
+all excellent arts, and particularly that of poetry, have been
+invented and brought to perfection by men of a transcendent genius;
+and that, therefore, they, who practise afterwards the same arts, are
+obliged to tread in their footsteps, and to search in their writings
+the foundation of them; for it is not just that new rules should
+destroy the authority of the old. But Rapin writes more particularly
+thus, that no passions in a story are so proper to move our
+concernment, as fear and pity; and that it is from our concernment we
+receive our pleasure, is undoubted. When the soul becomes agitated
+with fear for one character, or hope for another; then it is that we
+are pleased in tragedy, by the interest which we take in their
+adventures.
+
+Here, therefore, the general answer may be given to the first
+question, how far we ought to imitate Shakespeare and Fletcher in
+their plots; namely, that we ought to follow them so far only, as they
+have copied the excellencies of those who invented and brought to
+perfection dramatic poetry; those things only excepted, which
+religion, custom of countries, idioms of languages, &c. have altered
+in the superstructures, but not in the foundation of the design.
+
+How defective Shakespeare and Fletcher have been in all their plots,
+Mr Rymer has discovered in his criticisms. Neither can we, who follow
+them, be excused from the same, or greater errors; which are the more
+unpardonable in us, because we want their beauties to countervail our
+faults. The best of their designs, the most approaching to antiquity,
+and the most conducing to move pity, is the "King and no King;" which,
+if the farce of Bessus were thrown away, is of that inferior sort of
+tragedies, which end with a prosperous event. It is probably derived
+from the story of OEdipus, with the character of Alexander the Great,
+in his extravagances, given to Arbaces. The taking of this play,
+amongst many others, I cannot wholly ascribe to the excellency of the
+action; for I find it moving when it is read. It is true, the faults
+of the plot are so evidently proved, that they can no longer be
+denied. The beauties of it must therefore lie either in the lively
+touches of the passion; or we must conclude, as I think we may, that
+even in imperfect plots there are less degrees of nature, by which
+some faint emotions of pity and terror are raised in us; as a less
+engine will raise a less proportion of weight, though not so much as
+one of Archimedes's making; for nothing can move our nature, but by
+some natural reason, which works upon passions. And, since we
+acknowledge the effect, there must be something in the cause.
+
+The difference between Shakespeare and Fletcher, in their plottings,
+seems to be this; that Shakespeare generally moves more terror, and
+Fletcher more compassion: for the first had a more masculine, a
+bolder, and more fiery genius; the second, a more soft and womanish.
+In the mechanic beauties of the plot, which are the observation of the
+three unities, time, place, and action, they are both deficient; but
+Shakespeare most. Ben Jonson reformed those errors in his comedies,
+yet one of Shakespeare's was regular before him; which is, "The Merry
+Wives of Windsor." For what remains concerning the design, you are to
+be referred to our English critic. That method which he has prescribed
+to raise it, from mistake, or ignorance of the crime, is certainly the
+best, though it is not the only; for amongst all the tragedies of
+Sophocles, there is but one, OEdipus, which is wholly built after that
+model.
+
+After the plot, which is the foundation of the play, the next thing to
+which we ought to apply our judgment, is the manners; for now the poet
+comes to work above ground. The ground-work, indeed, is that which is
+most necessary, as that upon which depends the firmness of the whole
+fabric; yet it strikes not the eye so much, as the beauties or
+imperfections of the manners, the thoughts, and the expressions.
+
+The first rule which Bossu prescribes to the writer of an heroic poem,
+and which holds too by the same reason in all dramatic poetry, is to
+make the moral of the work; that is, to lay down to yourself what that
+precept of morality shall be, which you would insinuate into the
+people; as, namely, Homer's (which I have copied in my "Conquest of
+Granada,") was, that union preserves a commonwealth and discord
+destroys it. Sophocles, in his OEdipus, that no man is to be accounted
+happy before his death. It is the moral that directs the whole action
+of the play to one centre; and that action or fable is the example
+built upon the moral, which confirms the truth of it to our
+experience. When the fable is designed, then, and not before, the
+persons are to be introduced, with their manners, characters, and
+passions.
+
+The manners, in a poem, are understood to be those inclinations,
+whether natural or acquired, which move and carry us to actions, good,
+bad, or indifferent, in a play; or which incline the persons to such
+or such actions. I have anticipated part of this discourse already, in
+declaring that a poet ought not to make the manners perfectly good in
+his best persons; but neither are they to be more wicked in any of his
+characters, than necessity requires. To produce a villain, without
+other reason than a natural inclination to villainy, is, in poetry, to
+produce an effect without a cause; and to make him more a villain than
+he has just reason to be, is to make an effect which is stronger than
+the cause.
+
+The manners arise from many causes; and are either distinguished by
+complexion, as choleric and phlegmatic, or by the differences of age
+or sex, of climates, or quality of the persons, or their present
+condition. They are likewise to be gathered from the several virtues,
+vices, or passions, and many other common-places, which a poet must be
+supposed to have learned from natural philosophy, ethics, and history;
+of all which, whosoever is ignorant, does not deserve the name of
+poet.
+
+But as the manners are useful in this art, they may be all comprised
+under these general heads: First, they must be apparent; that is, in
+every character of the play, some inclinations of the person must
+appear; and these are shown in the actions and discourse. Secondly,
+the manners must be suitable, or agreeing to the persons; that is, to
+the age, sex, dignity, and the other general heads of manners: thus,
+when a poet has given the dignity of a king to one of his persons, in
+all his actions and speeches, that person must discover majesty,
+magnanimity, and jealousy of power, because these are suitable to the
+general manners of a king[1]. The third property of manners is
+resemblance; and this is founded upon the particular characters of
+men, as we have them delivered to us by relation or history; that is,
+when a poet has the known character of this or that man before him, he
+is bound to represent him such, at least not contrary to that which
+fame has reported him to have been. Thus, it is not a poet's choice to
+make Ulysses choleric, or Achilles patient, because Homer has
+described them quite otherwise. Yet this is a rock, on which ignorant
+writers daily split; and the absurdity is as monstrous, as if a
+painter should draw a coward running from a battle, and tell us it was
+the picture of Alexander the Great.
+
+The last property of manners is, that they be constant and equal, that
+is, maintained the same through the whole design: thus, when Virgil
+had once given the name of _pious_ to Æneas, he was bound to show him
+such, in all his words and actions through the whole poem. All these
+properties Horace has hinted to a judicious observer.--1. _Notandi
+sunt tibi mores;_ 2. _Aut famam sequere,_ 3. _aut sibi concenientia
+finge;_ 4. _Sercetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi
+constet._
+
+From the manners, the characters of persons are derived; for, indeed,
+the characters are no other than the inclinations, as they appear in
+the several persons of the poem; a character being thus defined,--that
+which distinguishes one man from another. Not to repeat the same
+things over again, which have been said of the manners, I will only
+add what is necessary here. A character, or that which distinguishes
+one man from all others, cannot be supposed to consist of one
+particular virtue, or vice, or passion only; but it is a composition
+of qualities which are not contrary to one another in the same person.
+Thus, the same man may be liberal and valiant, but not liberal and
+covetous; so in a comical character, or humour, (which is an
+inclination to this or that particular folly) Falstaff is a liar, and
+a coward, a glutton, and a buffoon, because all these qualities may
+agree in the same man; yet it is still to be observed, that one
+virtue, vice, and passion, ought to be shown in every man, as
+predominant over all the rest; as covetousness in Crassus, love of his
+country in Brutus; and the same in characters which are feigned.
+
+The chief character or hero in a tragedy, as I have already shown,
+ought in prudence to be such a man, who has so much more of virtue in
+him than of vice, that he may be left amiable to the audience, which
+otherwise cannot have any concernment for his sufferings; and it is on
+this one character, that the pity and terror must be principally, if
+not wholly, founded: a rule which is extremely necessary, and which
+none of the critics, that I know, have fully enough discovered to us.
+For terror and compassion work but weakly when they are divided into
+many persons. If Creon had been the chief character in "OEdipus,"
+there had neither been terror nor compassion moved; but only
+detestation of the man, and joy for his punishment; if Adrastus and
+Eurydice had been made more appearing characters, then the pity had
+been divided, and lessened on the part of OEdipus. But making OEdipus
+the best and bravest person, and even Jocasta but an underpart to him,
+his virtues, and the punishment of his fatal crime, drew both the
+pity, and the terror to himself.
+
+By what has been said of the manners, it will be easy for a reasonable
+man to judge, whether the characters be truly or falsely drawn in a
+tragedy; for if there be no manners appearing in the characters, no
+concernment for the persons can be raised; no pity or horror can be
+moved, but by vice or virtue; therefore, without them, no person can
+have any business in the play. If the inclinations be obscure, it is a
+sign the poet is in the dark, and knows not what manner of man he
+presents to you; and consequently you can have no idea, or very
+imperfect, of that man; nor can judge what resolutions he ought to
+take; or what words or actions are proper for him. Most comedies, made
+up of accidents or adventures, are liable to fall into this error; and
+tragedies with many turns are subject to it; for the manners can never
+be evident, where the surprises of fortune take up all the business of
+the stage; and where the poet is more in pain, to tell you what
+happened to such a man, than what he was. It is one of the
+excellencies of Shakespeare, that the manners of his persons are
+generally apparent; and you see their bent and inclinations. Fletcher
+comes far short of him in this, as indeed he does almost in every
+thing. There are but glimmerings of manners in most of his comedies,
+which run upon adventures; and in his tragedies, Rollo, Otto, the King
+and no King, Melantius, and many others of his best, are but pictures
+shown you in the twilight; you know not whether they resemble vice or
+virtue, and they are either good, bad, or indifferent, as the present
+scene requires it. But of all poets, this commendation is to be given
+to Ben Jonson, that the manners even of the most inconsiderable
+persons in his plays, are every where apparent.
+
+By considering the second quality of manners, which is, that they be
+suitable to the age, quality, country, dignity, &c. of the character,
+we may likewise judge whether a poet has followed nature. In this
+kind, Sophocles and Euripides have more excelled among the Greeks than
+Æschylus; and Terence more than Plautus, among the Romans. Thus,
+Sophocles gives to OEdipus the true qualities of a king, in both those
+plays which bear his name; but in the latter, which is the "OEdipus
+Coloneus," he lets fall on purpose his tragic style; his hero speaks
+not in the arbitrary tone; but remembers, in the softness of his
+complaints, that he is an unfortunate blind old man; that he is
+banished from his country, and persecuted by his next relations. The
+present French poets are generally accused, that wheresoever they lay
+the scene, or in whatsoever age, the manners of their heroes are
+wholly French. Racine's Bajazet is bred at Constantinople; but his
+civilities are conveyed to him, by some secret passage, from
+Versailles into the seraglio. But our Shakespeare, having ascribed to
+Henry the Fourth the character of a king and of a father, gives him
+the perfect manners of each relation, when either he transacts with
+his son or with his subjects. Fletcher, on the other side, gives
+neither to Arbaces, nor to his king, in "The Maid's Tragedy," the
+qualities which are suitable to a monarch; though he may be excused a
+little in the latter, for the king there is not uppermost in the
+character; it is the lover of Evadne, who is king only in a second
+consideration; and though he be unjust, and has other faults which
+shall be nameless, yet he is not the hero of the play. It is true, we
+find him a lawful prince, (though I never heard of any king that was
+in Rhodes) and therefore Mr Rymer's criticism stands good,--that he
+should not be shown in so vicious a character. Sophocles has been more
+judicious in his "Antigona;" for, though he represents in Creon a
+bloody prince, yet he makes him not a lawful king, but an usurper, and
+Antigona herself is the heroine of the tragedy: but when Philaster
+wounds Arethusa and the boy; and Perigot his mistress, in the
+"Faithful Shepherdess," both these are contrary to the character of
+manhood. Nor is Valentinian managed much better; for, though Fletcher
+has taken his picture truly, and shown him as he was, an effeminate,
+voluptuous man, yet he has forgotten that he was an emperor, and has
+given him none of those royal marks, which ought to appear in a lawful
+successor of the throne. If it be enquired, what Fletcher should have
+done on this occasion; ought he not to have represented Valentinian as
+he was;--Bossu shall answer this question for me, by an instance of
+the like nature: Mauritius, the Greek emperor, was a prince far
+surpassing Valentinian, for he was endued with many kingly virtues; he
+was religious, merciful, and valiant, but withal he was noted of
+extreme covetousness, a vice which is contrary to the character of a
+hero, or a prince: therefore, says the critic, that emperor was no fit
+person to be represented in a tragedy, unless his good qualities were
+only to be shown, and his covetousness (which sullied them all) were
+slurred over by the artifice of the poet. To return once more to
+Shakespeare; no man ever drew so many characters, or generally
+distinguished them better from one another, excepting only Jonson. I
+will instance but in one, to show the copiousness of his invention; it
+is that of Caliban, or the monster, in "The Tempest." He seems there
+to have created a person which was not in nature, a boldness which, at
+first sight, would appear intolerable; for he makes him a species of
+himself, begotten by an incubus on a witch; but this, as I have
+elsewhere proved, is not wholly beyond the bounds of credibility, at
+least the vulgar still believe it. We have the separated notions of a
+spirit, and of a witch; (and spirits, according to Plato, are vested
+with a subtle body; according to some of his followers, have different
+sexes;) therefore, as from the distinct apprehensions of a horse, and
+of a man, imagination has formed a centaur; so, from those of an
+incubus and a sorceress, Shakespeare has produced his monster. Whether
+or no his generation can be defended, I leave to philosophy; but of
+this I am certain, that the poet has most judiciously furnished him
+with a person, a language, and a character, which will suit him, both
+by father's and mother's side: he has all the discontents, and malice
+of a witch, and of a devil, besides a convenient proportion of the
+deadly sins; gluttony, sloth, and lust, are manifest; the dejectedness
+of a slave is likewise given him, and the ignorance of one bred up in
+a desert island. His person is monstrous, and he is the product of
+unnatural lust; and his language is as hobgoblin as his person; in all
+things he is distinguished from other mortals. The characters of
+Fletcher are poor and narrow, in comparison of Shakspeare's; I
+remember not one which is not borrowed from him; unless you will
+except that strange mixture of a man in the "King and no King;" so
+that in this part Shakespeare is generally worth our imitation; and to
+imitate Fletcher is but to copy after him who was a copyer.
+
+Under this general head of manners, the passions are naturally
+included, as belonging to the characters. I speak not of pity and of
+terror, which are to be moved in the audience by the plot; but of
+anger, hatred, love, ambition, jealousy, revenge, &c. as they are
+shown in this or that person of the play. To describe these naturally,
+and to move them artfully, is one of the greatest commendations which
+can be given to a poet: to write pathetically, says Longinus, cannot
+proceed but from a lofty genius. A poet must be born with this
+quality: yet, unless he help himself by an acquired knowledge of the
+passions, what they are in their own nature, and by what springs they
+are to be moved, he will be subject either to raise them where they
+ought not to be raised, or not to raise them by the just degrees of
+nature, or to amplify them beyond the natural bounds, or not to
+observe the crisis and turns of them, in their cooling and decay; all
+which errors proceed from want of judgment in the poet, and from being
+unskilled in the principles of moral philosophy. Nothing is more
+frequent in a fanciful writer, than to foil himself by not managing
+his strength; therefore, as, in a wrestler, there is first required
+some measure of force, a well-knit body and active limbs, without
+which all instruction would be vain; yet, these being granted, if he
+want the skill which is necessary to a wrestler, he shall make but
+small advantage of his natural robustuousness: so, in a poet, his
+inborn vehemence and force of spirit will only run him out of breath
+the sooner, if it be not supported by the help of art. The roar of
+passion, indeed, may please an audience, three parts of which are
+ignorant enough to think all is moving which is noisy, and it may
+stretch the lungs of an ambitious actor, who will die upon the spot
+for a thundering clap; but it will move no other passion than
+indignation and contempt from judicious men. Longinus, whom I have
+hitherto followed, continues thus:--If the passions be artfully
+employed, the discourse becomes vehement and lofty: if otherwise,
+there is nothing more ridiculous than a great passion out of season:
+and to this purpose he animadverts severely upon Æschylus, who writ
+nothing in cold blood, but was always in a rapture, and in fury with
+his audience: the inspiration was still upon him, he was ever tearing
+it upon the tripos; or (to run off as madly as he does, from one
+similitude to another) he was always at high-flood of passion, even in
+the dead ebb, and lowest water-mark of the scene. He who would raise
+the passion of a judicious audience, says a learned critic, must be
+sure to take his hearers along with him; if they be in a calm, 'tis in
+vain for him to be in a huff: he must move them by degrees, and kindle
+with them; otherwise he will be in danger of setting his own heap of
+stubble on fire, and of burning out by himself, without warming the
+company that stand about him. They who would justify the madness of
+poetry from the authority of Aristotle, have mistaken the text, and
+consequently the interpretation: I imagine it to be false read, where
+he says of poetry, that it is [Greek: Euphuous ê manikou], that it had
+always somewhat in it either of a genius, or of a madman. 'Tis more
+probable that the original ran thus, that poetry was [Greek: Euphuous
+ou manikou], That it belongs to a witty man, but not to a madman. Thus
+then the passions, as they are considered simply and in themselves,
+suffer violence when they are perpetually maintained at the same
+height; for what melody can be made on that instrument, all whose
+strings are screwed up at first to their utmost stretch, and to the
+same sound? But this is not the worst: for the characters likewise
+bear a part in the general calamity, if you consider the passions as
+embodied in them; for it follows of necessity, that no man can be
+distinguished from another by his discourse, when every man is
+ranting, swaggering, and exclaiming with the same excess: as if it
+were the only business of all the characters to contend with each
+other for the prize at Billingsgate; or that the scene of the tragedy
+lay in Bethlem. Suppose the poet should intend this man to be
+choleric, and that man to be patient; yet when they are confounded in
+the writing, you cannot distinguish them from one another: for the man
+who was called patient and tame, is only so before he speaks; but let
+his clack be set a-going, and he shall tongue it as impetuously and as
+loudly, as the arrantest hero in the play. By this means, the
+characters are only distinct in name; but, in reality, all the men and
+women in the play are the same person. No man should pretend to write,
+who cannot temper his fancy with his judgment: nothing is more
+dangerous to a raw horseman, than a hot-mouthed jade without a curb.
+
+It is necessary therefore for a poet, who would concern an audience by
+describing of a passion, first to prepare it, and not to rush upon it
+all at once. Ovid has judiciously shown the difference of these two
+ways, in the speeches of Ajax and Ulysses: Ajax, from the very
+beginning, breaks out into his exclamations, and is swearing by his
+Maker,--_Agimus, proh Jupiter, inquit._ Ulysses, on the contrary,
+prepares his audience with all the submissiveness he can practise, and
+all the calmness of a reasonable man; he found his judges in a
+tranquillity of spirit, and therefore set out leisurely and softly
+with them, till he had warmed them by degrees; and then he began to
+mend his pace, and to draw them along with his own impetuousness: yet
+so managing his breath, that it might not fail him at his need, and
+reserving his utmost proofs of ability even to the last. The success,
+you see, was answerable; for the crowd only applauded the speech of
+Ajax;--
+
+  _Vulgique secutum ultima murmur erat:--_
+
+But the judges awarded the prize, for which they contended, to
+Ulysses;
+
+  _Mota manus procerum est; et quid facundia posset
+  Tum patuit, fortisque viri tulit arma disertus._
+
+The next necessary rule is, to put nothing into the discourse, which
+may hinder your moving of the passions. Too many accidents, as I have
+said, incumber the poet, as much as the arms of Saul did David; for
+the variety of passions, which they produce, are ever crossing and
+justling each other out of the way. He, who treats of joy and grief
+together, is in a fair way of causing neither of those effects. There
+is yet another obstacle to be removed, which is,--pointed wit, and
+sentences affected out of season; these are nothing of kin to the
+violence of passion: no man is at leisure to make sentences and
+similes, when his soul is in an agony. I the rather name this fault,
+that it may serve to mind me of my former errors; neither will I spare
+myself, but give an example of this kind from my "Indian Emperor."
+Montezuma, pursued by his enemies, and seeking sanctuary, stands
+parleying without the fort, and describing his danger to Cydaria, in a
+simile of six lines;
+
+  As on the sands the frighted traveller
+  Sees the high seas come rolling from afar, &c.
+
+My Indian potentate was well skilled in the sea for an inland prince,
+and well improved since the first act, when he sent his son to
+discover it. The image had not been amiss from another man, at another
+time: _Sed nunc non erat his locus:_ he destroyed the concernment
+which the audience might otherwise have had for him; for they could
+not think the danger near, when he had the leisure to invent a simile.
+
+If Shakespeare be allowed, as I think he must, to have made his
+characters distinct, it will easily be inferred, that he understood
+the nature of the passions: because it has been proved already, that
+confused passions make distinguishable characters: yet I cannot deny
+that he has his failings; but they are not so much in the passions
+themselves, as in his manner of expression: he often obscures his
+meaning by his words, and sometimes makes it unintelligible. I will
+not say of so great a poet, that he distinguished not the blown puffy
+stile, from true sublimity; but I may venture to maintain, that the
+fury of his fancy often transported him beyond the bounds of judgment,
+either in coining of new words and phrases, or racking words which
+were in use, into the violence of a catachresis. It is not that I
+would explode the use of metaphors from passion, for Longinus thinks
+them necessary to raise it: but to use them at every word, to say
+nothing without a metaphor, a simile, an image, or description; is, I
+doubt, to smell a little too strongly of the buskin. I must be forced
+to give an example of expressing passion figuratively; but that I may
+do it with respect to Shakespeare, it shall not be taken from any
+thing of his: it is an exclamation against Fortune, quoted in his
+Hamlet, but written by some other poet:
+
+  Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! all you gods,
+  In general synod, take away her power;
+  Break all the spokes and felleys from her wheel,
+  And bowl the round nave down the hill of heav'n,
+  As low as to the fiends.
+
+And immediately after, speaking of Hecuba, when Priam was killed
+before her eyes:
+
+  But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled queen
+  Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flame
+  With bisson rheum; a clout about that head,
+  Where late the diadem stood; and, for a rob
+  About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
+  A blanket in th' alarm of fear caught up.
+  Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd
+  'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd;
+  But if the gods themselves did see her then,
+  When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
+  In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
+  The instant burst of clamour that she made
+  (Unless things mortal move them not at all)
+  Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
+  And passion in the gods.
+
+What a pudder is here kept in raising the expression of trifling
+thoughts! would not a man have thought that the poet had been bound
+prentice to a wheel-wright, for his first rant? and had followed a
+rag-man, for the clout and blanket, in the second? Fortune is painted
+on a wheel, and therefore the writer, in a rage, will have poetical
+justice done upon every member of that engine: after this execution,
+he bowls the nave down-hill, from heaven, to the fiends: (an
+unreasonable long mark, a man would think;) 'tis well there are no
+solid orbs to stop it in the way, or no element of fire to consume it:
+but when it came to the earth, it must be monstrous heavy, to break
+ground as low as the center. His making milch the burning eyes of
+heaven, was a pretty tolerable flight too: and I think no man ever
+drew milk out of eyes before him: yet, to make the wonder greater,
+these eyes were burning. Such a sight indeed were enough to have
+raised passion in the gods; but to excuse the effects of it, he tells
+you, perhaps they did not see it. Wise men would be glad to find a
+little sense couched under all these pompous words; for bombast is
+commonly the delight of that audience, which loves poetry, but
+understands it not: and as commonly has been the practice of those
+writers, who, not being able to infuse a natural passion into the
+mind, have made it their business to ply the ears, and to stun their
+judges by the noise. But Shakespeare does not often thus; for the
+passions in his scene between Brutus and Cassius are extremely
+natural, the thoughts are such as arise from the matter, the
+expression of them not viciously figurative. I cannot leave this
+subject, before I do justice to that divine poet, by giving you one of
+his passionate descriptions: 'tis of Richard the Second when he was
+deposed, and led in triumph through the streets of London by Henry of
+Bolingbroke: the painting of it is so lively, and the words so moving
+that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it, in any other
+language. Suppose you have seen already the fortunate usurper passing
+through the crowd, and followed by the shouts and acclamations of the
+people; and now behold King Richard entering upon the scene: consider
+the wretchedness of his condition, and his carriage in it; and refrain
+from pity, if you can:
+
+  As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
+  After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
+  Are idly bent on him that enters next,
+  Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
+  Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
+  Did scowl on Richard: no man cry'd, God save him:
+  No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,
+  But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
+  Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
+  His face still combating with tears and smiles,
+  (The badges of his grief and patience)
+  That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd
+  The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
+  And barbarism itself have pitied him.
+
+To speak justly of this whole matter: it is neither height of thought
+that is discommended, nor pathetic vehemence, nor any nobleness of
+expression in its proper place; but it is a false measure of all
+these, something which is like them, and is not them: it is the
+Bristol-stone, which appears like a diamond; it is an extravagant
+thought, instead of a sublime one; it is roaring madness, instead of
+vehemence; and a sound of words, instead of sense. If Shakespeare were
+stripped of all the bombasts in his passions, and dressed in the most
+vulgar words, we should find the beauties of his thoughts remaining;
+if his embroideries were burnt down, there would still be silver at
+the bottom of the melting-pot: but I fear (at least let me fear it for
+myself) that we, who ape his sounding words, have nothing of his
+thought, but are all outside; there is not so much as a dwarf within
+our giant's clothes. Therefore, let not Shakespeare suffer for our
+sakes; it is our fault, who succeed him in an age which is more
+refined, if we imitate him so ill, that we copy his failings only, and
+make a virtue of that in our writings, which in his was an
+imperfection.
+
+For what remains, the excellency of that poet was, as I have said, in
+the more manly passions; Fletcher's in the softer: Shakespeare writ
+better betwixt man and man; Fletcher, betwixt man and woman:
+consequently, the one described friendship better; the other love: yet
+Shakespeare taught Fletcher to write love: and Juliet and Desdemona
+are originals. It is true, the scholar had the softer soul; but the
+master had the kinder. Friendship is both a virtue and a passion
+essentially; love is a passion only in its nature, and is not a virtue
+but by accident: good nature makes friendship; but effeminacy love.
+Shakespeare had an universal mind, which comprehended all characters
+and passions; Fletcher a more confined and limited: for though he
+treated love in perfection, yet honour, ambition, revenge, and
+generally all the stronger, passions, he either touched not, or not
+masterly. To conclude all, he was a limb of Shakespeare.
+
+I had intended to have proceeded to the last property of manners,
+which is, that they must be constant, and the characters maintained
+the same from the beginning to the end; and from thence to have
+proceeded to the thoughts and expressions suitable to a tragedy: but I
+will first see how this will relish with the age. It is, I confess,
+but cursorily written; yet the judgment, which is given here, is
+generally founded upon experience: but because many men are shocked at
+the name of rules, as if they were a kind of magisterial prescription
+upon poets, I will conclude with the words of Rapin, in his
+Reflections on Aristotle's Work of Poetry: "If the rules be well
+considered, we shall find them to be made only to reduce nature into
+method, to trace her step by step, and not to suffer the least mark of
+her to escape us: it is only by these, that probability in fiction is
+maintained, which is the soul of poetry. They are founded upon good
+sense, and sound reason, rather than on authority; for though
+Aristotle and Horace are produced, yet no man must argue, that what
+they write is true, because they writ it; but 'tis evident, by the
+ridiculous mistakes and gross absurdities, which have been made by
+those poets who have taken their fancy only for their guide, that if
+this fancy be not regulated, it is a mere caprice, and utterly
+incapable to produce a reasonable and judicious poem."
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The _dictum_ of Rymer, concerning the royal prerogative in poetry,
+   is thus expressed: "We are to presume the highest virtues, where we
+   find the highest of rewards; and though it is not necessary that
+   all heroes should be kings, yet, undoubtedly, all crowned heads, by
+   poetical right, are heroes. This character is a flower; a
+   prerogative so certain, so inseparably annexed to the crown, as by
+   no parliament of poets ever to be invaded." _The Tragedies of the
+   last Age considered,_ p. 61. Dryden has elsewhere given his assent
+   to this maxim, that a king, in poetry, as in our constitution, can
+   do no wrong. The only apology for introducing a tyrant upon the
+   stage, was to make him at the same time an usurper.
+
+
+
+
+                               PROLOGUE
+
+                       SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON,
+                REPRESENTING THE GHOST OF SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+  See, my loved Britons, see your Shakespeare rise,
+  An awful ghost confessed to human eyes!
+  Unnamed, methinks, distinguished I had been
+  From other shades, by this eternal green,
+  About whose wreaths the vulgar poets strive,
+  And with a touch, their withered bays revive.
+  Untaught, unpractised, in a barbarous age,
+  I found not, but created first the stage.
+  And, if I drained no Greek or Latin store,
+  'Twas, that my own abundance gave me more.
+  On foreign trade I needed not rely,
+  Like fruitful Britain, rich without supply.
+  In this my rough-drawn play, you shall behold
+  Some master-strokes, so manly and so bold,
+  That he who meant to alter, found 'em such,
+  He shook, and thought it sacrilege to touch.
+  Now, where are the successors to my name?
+  What bring they to fill out a poet's fame?
+  Weak, short-lived issues of a feeble age;
+  Scarce living to be christened on the stage!
+  For humour farce, for love they rhyme dispense,
+  That tolls the knell for their departed sense.
+  Dulness might thrive in any trade but this:
+  'Twould recommend to some fat benefice.
+  Dulness, that in a playhouse meets disgrace,
+  Might meet with reverence, in its proper place.
+  The fulsome clench, that nauseates the town,
+  Would from a judge or alderman go down,
+  Such virtue is there in a robe and gown!
+  And that insipid stuff which here you hate,
+  Might somewhere else be called a grave debate;
+  Dulness is decent in the church and state.
+  But I forget that still 'tis understood,
+  Bad plays are best decried by showing good.
+  Sit silent then, that my pleased soul may see
+  A judging audience once, and worthy me;
+  My faithful scene from true records shall tell,
+  How Trojan valour did the Greek excell;
+  Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,
+  And Homer's angry ghost repine in vain[1].
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The conceit, which our ancestors had adopted, of their descent from
+   Brutus, a fugitive Trojan, induced their poets to load the Grecian
+   chiefs with every accusation of cowardice and treachery, and to
+   extol the character of the Trojans in the same proportion. Hector
+   is always represented as having been treacherously slain.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  HECTOR,  } _Sons of_ PRIAM.
+  TROILUS, }
+  PRIAM, _King of Troy._
+  ÆNEAS, _a Trojan Warrior._
+  PANDARUS, _Uncle to_ CRESSIDA.
+  CALCHAS, _a Trojan Priest, and Father to_ CRESSIDA, _a fugitive to
+           the Grecian camp._
+  AGAMEMNON, }
+  ULYSSES,   }
+  ACHILLES,  }
+  AJAX,      } _Grecian Warriors, engaged in the_
+  NESTOR,    } _siege of Troy._
+  DIOMEDES,  }
+  PATROCLUS, }
+  MENELAUS,  }
+  THERSITES, _a slanderous Buffoon._
+
+  CRESSIDA, _Daughter to_ CALCHAS.
+  ANDROMACHE, _Wife to_ HECTOR.
+
+
+
+
+                         TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Camp._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, _and_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Princes, it seems not strange to us, nor new,
+That, after nine years siege, Troy makes defence,
+Since every action of recorded fame
+Has with long difficulties been involved,
+Not answering that idea of the thought,
+Which gave it birth; why then, you Grecian chiefs,
+With sickly eyes do you behold our labours,
+And think them our dishonour, which indeed
+Are the protractive trials of the gods,
+To prove heroic constancy in men?
+
+_Nest._ With due observance of thy sovereign seat,
+Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
+Thy well-weighed words. In struggling with misfortunes
+Lies the true proof of virtue: On smooth seas,
+How many bauble-boats dare set their sails,
+And make an equal way with firmer vessels!
+But let the tempest once enrage that sea,
+And then behold the strong-ribbed argosie,
+Bounding between the ocean and the air,
+Like Perseus mounted on his Pegasus.
+Then where are those weak rivals of the main?
+Or, to avoid the tempest, fled to port,
+Or made a prey to Neptune. Even thus
+Do empty show, and true-prized worth, divide
+In storms of fortune.
+
+_Ulys._ Mighty Agamemnon!
+Heart of our body, soul of our designs,
+In whom the tempers, and the minds of all
+Should be inclosed,--hear what Ulysses speaks.
+
+_Agam._ You have free leave.
+
+_Ulys._ Troy had been down ere this, and Hector's sword
+Wanted a master, but for our disorders:
+The observance due to rule has been neglected,
+Observe how many Grecian tents stand void
+Upon this plain, so many hollow factions:
+For, when the general is not like the hive,
+To whom the foragers should all repair,
+What honey can our empty combs expect?
+Or when supremacy of kings is shaken,
+What can succeed? How could communities,
+Or peaceful traffic from divided shores,
+Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
+But by degree, stand on their solid base?
+Then every thing resolves to brutal force,
+And headlong force is led by hoodwinked will.
+For wild ambition, like a ravenous wolf,
+Spurred on by will, and seconded by power,
+Must make an universal prey of all,
+And last devour itself.
+
+_Nest._ Most prudently Ulysses has discovered
+The malady, whereof our state is sick.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis truth he speaks; the general's disdained
+By him one step beneath, he by the next;
+That next by him below: So each degree
+Spurns upward at superior eminence.
+Thus our distempers are their sole support;
+Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.
+
+_Agam._ The nature of this sickness found, inform us
+From whence it draws its birth?
+
+_Ulys._ The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
+The chief of all our host,
+Having his ears buzzed with his noisy fame,
+Disdains thy sovereign charge, and in his tent
+Lies, mocking our designs; with him Patroclus,
+Upon a lazy bed, breaks scurril jests,
+And with ridiculous and aukward action,
+Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,
+Mimics the Grecian chiefs.
+
+_Agam._ As how, Ulysses?
+
+_Ulys._ Even thee, the king of men, he does not spare,
+(The monkey author) but thy greatness pageants,
+And makes of it rehearsals: like a player,
+Bellowing his passion till he break the spring,
+And his racked voice jar to his audience;
+So represents he thee, though more unlike
+Than Vulcan is to Venus.
+And at this fulsome stuff,--the wit of apes,--
+The large Achilles, on his prest bed lolling,
+From his deep chest roars out a loud applause,
+Tickling his spleen, and laughing till he wheeze.
+
+_Nest._ Nor are you spared, Ulysses; but, as you speak in council,
+He hems ere he begins, then strokes his beard,
+Casts down his looks, and winks with half an eye;
+Has every action, cadence, motion, tone,
+All of you but the sense.
+
+_Agam._ Fortune was merry
+When he was born, and played a trick on nature,
+To make a mimic prince; he ne'er acts ill,
+But when he would seem wise:
+For all he says or does, from serious thought,
+Appears so wretched, that he mocks his title,
+And is his own buffoon.
+
+_Ulys._ In imitation of this scurril fool,
+Ajax is grown self-willed as broad Achilles.
+He keeps a table too, makes factious feasts,
+Rails on our state of war, and sets Thersites
+(A slanderous slave of an o'erflowing gall)
+To level us with low comparisons.
+They tax our policy with cowardice,
+Count wisdom of no moment in the war,
+In brief, esteem no act, but that of hand;
+The still and thoughtful parts, which move those hands,
+With them are but the tasks cut out by fear,
+To be performed by valour.
+
+_Agam._ Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
+Is more of use than he; but you, grave pair,
+Like Time and Wisdom marching hand in hand,
+Must put a stop to these encroaching ills:
+To you we leave the care;
+You, who could show whence the distemper springs,
+Must vindicate the dignity of kings.                        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Troy._
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Why should I fight without the Trojan walls,
+Who, without fighting, am o'erthrown within?
+The Trojan who is master of a soul,
+Let him to battle; Troilus has none.
+
+_Pand._ Will this never be at an end with you?
+
+_Troil._ The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
+Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness wary;
+But I am weaker than a woman's tears,
+Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
+And artless as unpractised infancy.
+
+_Pand_ Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part I'll not
+meddle nor make any further in your love; he, that will eat of the
+roastmeat, must stay for the kindling of the fire.
+
+_Troil._ Have I not staid?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, the kindling; but you must stay the spitting of the meat.
+
+_Troil._ Have I not staid?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, the spitting; but there's two words to a bargain; you must
+stay the roasting too.
+
+_Troil._ Still have I staid; and still the farther off.
+
+_Pand._ That's but the roasting, but there's more in this word stay;
+there's the taking off the spit, the making of the sauce, the dishing,
+the setting on the table, and saying grace; nay, you must stay the
+cooling too, or you may chance to burn your chaps.
+
+_Troil._ At Priam's table pensive do I sit,
+And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts--
+(Can she be said to come, who ne'er was absent!)
+
+_Pand._ Well, she's a most ravishing creature; and she looked
+yesterday most killingly; she had such a stroke with her eyes, she cut
+to the quick with every glance of them.
+
+_Troil._ I was about to tell thee, when my heart
+Was ready with a sigh to cleave in two,
+Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
+I have, with mighty anguish of my soul,
+Just at the birth, stifled this still-born sigh,
+And forced my face into a painful smile.
+
+_Pand._ I measured her with my girdle yesterday; she's not half a yard
+about the waist, but so taper a shape did I never see; but when I had
+her in my arms, Lord, thought I,--and by my troth I could not forbear
+sighing,--If prince Troilus had her at this advantage and I were
+holding of the door!--An she were a thought taller,--but as she is,
+she wants not an inch of Helen neither; but there's no more comparison
+between the women--there was wit, there was a sweet tongue! How her
+words melted in her mouth! Mercury would have been glad to have such a
+tongue in his mouth, I warrant him. I would somebody had heard her
+talk yesterday, as I did.
+
+_Troil._ Oh Pandarus, when I tell thee I am mad
+In Cressid's love, thou answer'st she is fair;
+Praisest her eyes, her stature, and her wit;
+But praising thus, instead of oil and balm,
+Thou lay'st, in every wound her love has given me,
+The sword that made it.
+
+_Pand._ I give her but her due.
+
+_Troil._ Thou giv'st her not so much.
+
+_Pand._ Faith, I'll speak no more of her, let her be as she is; if she
+be a beauty, 'tis the better for her; an' she be not, she has the
+mends in her own hands, for Pandarus.
+
+_Troil._ In spite of me, thou wilt mistake my meaning.
+
+_Pand._ I have had but my labour for my pains; ill thought on of her,
+and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, and am ground in
+the mill-stones for my labour.
+
+_Troil._ What, art thou angry, Pandarus, with thy friend?
+
+_Pand._ Because she's my niece, therefore she's not so fair as Helen;
+an' she were not my niece, show me such another piece of woman's
+flesh: take her limb by limb: I say no more, but if Paris had seen her
+first, Menelaus had been no cuckold: but what care I if she were a
+blackamoor? what am I the better for her face?
+
+_Troil._ Said I she was not beautiful?
+
+_Pand._ I care not if you did; she's a fool to stay behind her father
+Calchas: let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her. For my part, I
+am resolute, I'll meddle no more in your affairs.
+
+_Troil._ But hear me!
+
+_Pand._ Not I.
+
+_Troil._ Dear Pandarus--
+
+_Pand._ Pray speak no more on't; I'll not burn my fingers in another
+body's business; I'll leave it as I found it, and there's an end.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Troil._ O gods, how do you torture me!
+I cannot come to Cressida but by him,
+And he's as peevish to be wooed to woo,
+As she is to be won.
+
+  _Enter_ ÆNEAS.
+
+_Æneas._ How now, prince Troilus; why not in the battle?
+
+_Troil._ Because not there. This woman's answer suits me,
+For womanish it is to be from thence.
+What news, Æneas, from the field to-day?
+
+_Æn._ Paris is hurt.
+
+_Troil._ By whom?
+
+_Æn._ By Menelaus. Hark what good sport               [_Alarm within._
+Is out of town to-day! When I hear such music,
+I cannot hold from dancing.
+
+_Troil._ I'll make one,
+And try to lose an anxious thought or two
+In heat of action.
+Thus, coward-like, from love to war I run,
+Seek the less dangers, and the greater shun.            [_Exit_ TROIL.
+
+  _Enter_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Cres._ My lord Æneas, who were those went by?
+I mean the ladies.
+
+_Æn._ Queen Hecuba and Helen.
+
+_Cres._ And whither go they?
+
+_Æn._ Up to the western tower,
+Whose height commands, as subject, all the vale,
+To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
+Is fixed like that of heaven, to-day was moved;
+He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer,
+And, as there were good husbandry in war.
+Before the sun was up he went to field;
+Your pardon, lady, that's my business too.              [_Exit_ ÆNEAS.
+
+_Cres._ Hector's a gallant warrior.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ What's that, what's that?
+
+_Cres._ Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.
+
+_Pand._ Good-morrow, cousin Cressida. When were you at court?
+
+_Cres._ This morning, uncle.
+
+_Pand._ What were you a talking, when I came? Was Hector armed, and
+gone ere ye came? Hector was stirring early.
+
+_Cres._ That I was talking of, and of his anger.
+
+_Pand._ Was he angry, say you? true, he was so, and I know the cause.
+He was struck down yesterday in the battle, but he'll lay about him;
+he'll cry quittance with them to-day. I'll answer for him. And there's
+Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take heed of Troilus, I
+can tell them that too.
+
+_Cres._ What, was he struck down too?
+
+_Pand._ Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
+
+_Cres._ Oh Jupiter! there's no comparison! Troilus the better man.
+
+_Pand._ What, no comparison between Hector and Troilus? do you know a
+man if you see him?
+
+_Cres._ No: for he may look like a man, and not be one.
+
+_Pand._ Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.
+
+_Cres._ That's what I say; for I am sure he is not Hector.
+
+_Pand._ No, nor Hector is not Troilus: make your best of that, niece!
+
+_Cres._ 'Tis true, for each of them is himself.
+
+_Pand._ Himself! alas, poor Troilus! I would he were himself: well,
+the gods are all-sufficient, and time must mend or end. I would he
+were himself, and would I were a lady for his sake. I would not answer
+for my maidenhead.--No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
+
+_Cres._ Excuse me.
+
+_Pand._ Pardon me; Troilus is in the bud, 'tis early day with him; you
+shall tell me another tale when Troilus is come to bearing; and yet he
+will not bear neither, in some sense. No, Hector shall never have his
+virtues.
+
+_Cres._ No matter.
+
+_Pand._ Nor his beauty, nor his fashion, nor his wit; he shall have
+nothing of him.
+
+_Cres._ They would not become him, his own are better.
+
+_Pand._ How, his own better! you have no judgment, niece; Helen
+herself swore, the other day, that Troilus, for a manly brown
+complexion,--for so it is, I must confess--not brown neither.
+
+_Cres._ No, but very brown.
+
+_Pand._ Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Come, I swear to
+you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris: nay, I'm sure she
+does. She comes me to him the other day, into the bow-window,--and you
+know Troilus has not above three or four hairs on his chin,--
+
+_Cres._ That's but a bare commendation.
+
+_Pand._ But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she comes, and puts
+me her white hand to his cloven chin.
+
+_Cres._ Has he been fighting then? how came it cloven?
+
+_Pand._ Why, you know it is dimpled. I cannot chuse but laugh, to
+think how she tickled his cloven chin. She has a marvellous white
+hand, I must needs confess. But let that pass, for I know who has a
+whiter. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on it, think
+on it.
+
+_Cres._ So I do, uncle.
+
+_Pand._ I'll be sworn it is true; he will weep ye, an' it were a man
+born in April.                                   [_A retreat sounded._
+Hark, they are returning from the field; shall we stay and see them as
+they come by, sweet niece? do, sweet niece Cressida.
+
+_Cres._ For once you shall command me.
+
+_Pand._ Here, here, here is an excellent place; we may see them here
+most bravely, and I'll tell you all their names as they pass by; but
+mark Troilus above the rest; mark Troilus, he's worth your marking.
+
+  ÆNEAS _passes over the Stage._
+
+_Cres._ Speak not so loud then.
+
+_Pand._ That's Æneas. Is it not a brave man that? he's a swinger, many
+a Grecian he has laid with his face upward; but mark Troilus: you
+shall see anon.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTENOR _passing._
+
+That's Antenor; he has a notable head-piece I can tell you, and he's
+the ablest man for judgment in all Troy; you may turn him loose,
+i'faith, and by my troth a proper person. When comes Troilus? I'll
+shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
+
+  HECTOR _passes over._
+
+That's Hector, that, that, look you that; there's a fellow! go thy
+way, Hector; there's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector, look how he
+looks! there's a countenance. Is it not a brave man, niece?
+
+_Cres._ I always told you so.
+
+_Pand._ Is he not? it does a man's heart good to look on him; look
+you, look you there, what hacks are on his helmet! this was no boy's
+play, i'faith; he laid it on with a vengeance, take it off who will,
+as they say! there are hacks, niece!
+
+_Cres._ Were those with swords?
+
+_Pand._ Swords, or bucklers, faulchions, darts, and lances! any thing,
+he cares not! an' the devil come, it is all one to him: by Jupiter he
+looks so terribly, that I am half afraid to praise him.
+
+  _Enter_ PARIS.
+
+Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris! look ye yonder, niece; is it
+not a brave young prince too? He draws the best bow in all Troy; he
+hits you to a span twelve-score level:--who said he came home hurt
+to-day? why, this will do Helen's heart good now! ha! that I could see
+Troilus now!
+
+  _Enter_ HELENUS.
+
+_Cres._ Who's that black man, uncle?
+
+_Pand._ That is Helenus.--I marvel where Troilus is all this
+while;--that is Helenus.--I think Troilus went not forth
+to-day;--that's Helenus.
+
+_Cres._ Can Helenus fight, uncle?
+
+_Pand._ Helenus! No, yes; he'll fight indifferently well.--I marvel in
+my heart what's become of Troilus:--Hark! do you not hear the people
+cry, Troilus?--Helenus is a priest, and keeps a whore; he'll fight for
+his whore, or he's no true priest, I warrant him.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS _passing over._
+
+_Cres._ What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
+
+_Pand._ Where, yonder? that's Deiphobus: No, I lie. I lie, that's
+Troilus! there's a man, niece! hem! O brave Troilus! the prince of
+chivalry, and flower of fidelity!
+
+_Cres._ Peace, for shame, peace!
+
+_Pand._ Nay, but mark him then! O brave Troilus! there's a man of men,
+niece! look you how his sword is bloody, and his helmet more hacked
+than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth!
+he never saw two-and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! had I a
+sister were a grace, and a daughter a goddess, he should take his
+choice of them. O admirable man! Paris, Paris is dirt to him, and I
+warrant, Helen, to change, would give all the shoes in her shop to
+boot.
+
+  _Enter common Soldiers passing over._
+
+_Cres._ Here come more.
+
+_Pand._ Asses, fools, dolts, dirt, and dung, stuff, and lumber,
+porridge after meat; but I could live and die with Troilus. Ne'er
+look, niece, ne'er look, the lions are gone: apes and monkeys, the fag
+end of the creation. I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than
+Agamemnon and all Greece.
+
+_Cres._ There's Achilles among the Greeks, he's a brave man.
+
+_Pand._ Achilles! a carman, a beast of burden; a very camel: have you
+any eyes, niece? do you know a man? is he to be compared with Troilus?
+
+  _Enter Page._
+
+_Page._ Sir, my lord Troilus would instantly speak with you.
+
+_Pand._ Where boy, where?
+
+_Page._ At his own house, if you think convenient.
+
+_Pand._ Good boy, tell him I come instantly: I doubt he's wounded.
+Farewell, good niece. But I'll be with you by and by.
+
+_Cres._ To bring me, uncle!
+
+_Pand._ Ay, a token from prince Troilus.               [_Exit_ PANDAR.
+
+_Cres_. By the same token, you are a procurer, uncle.
+
+  CRESSIDA _alone._
+
+A strange dissembling sex we women are:
+Well may we men, when we ourselves deceive.
+Long has my secret soul loved Troilus;
+I drunk his praises from my uncle's mouth,
+As if my ears could ne'er be satisfied:
+Why then, why said I not, I love this prince?
+How could my tongue conspire against my heart,
+To say I loved him not? O childish love!
+'Tis like an infant, froward in his play,
+And what he most desires, he throws away.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_Troy._
+
+  _Enter_ PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, _and_ ÆNEAS.
+
+_Priam._ After the expence of so much time and blood,
+Thus once again the Grecians send to Troy;--
+Deliver Helen, and all other loss
+Shall be forgotten.--Hector, what say you to it?
+
+_Hect._ Though no man less can fear the Greeks than I,
+Yet there's no virgin of more tender heart,
+More ready to cry out,--who knows the consequence?
+Than Hector is; for modest doubt is mixed
+With manly courage best: let Helen go.
+If we have lost so many lives of ours,
+To keep a thing not ours, not worth to us
+The value of a man, what reason is there
+Still to retain the cause of so much ill?
+
+_Troil._ Fye, fye, my noble brother!
+Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
+So great as Asia's monarch, in a scale
+Of common ounces thus?
+Are fears and reasons fit to be considered,
+When a king's fame is questioned?
+
+_Hect._ Brother, she's not worth
+What her defence has cost us.
+
+_Troil._ What's aught, but as 'tis valued?
+
+_Hect._ But value dwells not in opinion only:
+It holds the dignity and estimation,
+As well, wherein 'tis precious of itself,
+As in the prizer: 'tis idolatry,
+To make the service greater than the god.
+
+_Troil._ We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
+When we have worn them; the remaining food
+Throw not away, because we now are full.
+If you confess, 'twas wisdom Paris went;--
+As you must needs, for you all cried, _Go, go:--_
+If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize;--
+As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands,
+And cried, _Inestimable!_--Why do you now
+So under-rate the value of your purchase?
+For, let me tell you, 'tis unmanly theft,
+When we have taken what we fear to keep.
+
+_Æne._ There's not the meanest spirit in our party,
+Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
+When Helen is defended: None so noble,
+Whose life were ill bestowed, or death unfamed,
+When Helen is the subject.
+
+_Priam._ So says Paris,
+Like one besotted on effeminate joys;
+He has the honey still, but these the gall.
+
+_Æne._ He not proposes merely to himself
+The pleasures such a beauty brings with it;
+But he would have the stain of Helen's rape
+Wiped off, in honourable keeping her.
+
+_Hect._ Troilus and Æneas, you have said;
+If saying superficial things be reason.
+But if this Helen be another's wife,
+The moral laws of nature and of nations
+Speak loud she be restored. Thus to persist
+In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
+But makes it much more so. Hector's opinion
+Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,
+My sprightly brother, I incline to you
+In resolution to defend her still:
+For 'tis a cause on which our Trojan honour
+And common reputation will depend.
+
+_Troil._ Why there you touched the life of our design:
+Were it not glory that we covet more
+Than war and vengeance, (beasts' and women's pleasure)
+I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
+Spent more in her defence; but oh! my brother,
+She is a subject of renown and honour;
+And I presume brave Hector would not lose
+The rich advantage of his future fame
+For the wide world's revenue:--I have business;
+But glad I am to leave you thus resolved.
+When such arms strike, ne'er doubt of the success.
+
+_Æn._ May we not guess?
+
+_Troil._ You may, and be deceived.                      [_Exit_ TROIL.
+
+_Hect._ A woman, on my life: even so it happens,
+Religion, state-affairs, whate'er's the theme,
+It ends in woman still.
+
+  _Enter_ ANDROMACHE.
+
+_Priam._ See, here's your wife,
+To make that maxim good.
+
+_Hect._ Welcome, Andromache: your looks are chearful,
+You bring some pleasing news.
+
+_Andro._ Nothing that's serious.
+Your little son Astyanax has employed me
+As his ambassadress.
+
+_Hect._ Upon what errand?
+
+_Andro._ No less than that his grandfather this day
+Would make him knight: he longs to kill a Grecian:
+For should he stay to be a man, he thinks
+You'll kill them all; and leave no work for him.
+
+_Priam._ Your own blood, Hector.
+
+_Andro._ And therefore he designs to send a challenge
+To Agamemnon, Ajax, or Achilles,
+To prove they do not well to burn our fields,
+And keep us cooped like prisoners in a town,
+To lead this lazy life.
+
+_Hect._ What sparks of honour
+Fly from this child! the gods speak in him sure:
+--It shall be so--I'll do't.
+
+_Priam._ What means my son?
+
+_Hect._ To send a challenge to the boldest Greek.
+Is not that country ours? those fruitful fields
+Washed by yon silver flood, are they not ours?
+Those teeming vines that tempt our longing eyes,
+Shall we behold them? shall we call them ours,
+And dare not make them so? by heavens I'll know
+Which of these haughty Grecians dares to think
+He can keep Hector prisoner here in Troy.
+
+_Priam._ If Hector only were a private man,
+This would be courage; but in him 'tis madness.
+The general safety on your life depends;
+And, should you perish in this rash attempt,
+Troy with a groan would feel her soul go out,
+And breathe her last in you.
+
+_Æn._ The task you undertake is hazardous:
+Suppose you win, what would the profit be?
+If Ajax or Achilles fell beneath
+Your thundering arm, would all the rest depart?
+Would Agamemnon, or his injured brother,
+Set sail for this? then it were worth your danger.
+But, as it is, we throw our utmost stake
+Against whole heaps of theirs.
+
+_Priam._ He tells you true.
+
+_Æn._ Suppose one Ajax, or Achilles lost,
+They can repair with more that single loss:
+Troy has but one, one Hector.
+
+_Hect._ No, Æneas!
+What then art thou; and what is Troilus?
+What will Astyanax be?
+
+_Priam._ An Hector one day,
+But you must let him live to be a Hector;
+And who shall make him such, when you are gone?
+Who shall instruct his tenderness in arms,
+Or give his childhood lessons of the war?
+Who shall defend the promise of his youth,
+And make it bear in manhood? the young sapling
+Is shrouded long beneath the mother-tree,
+Before it be transplanted from its earth,
+And trust itself for growth.
+
+_Hect._ Alas, my father!
+You have not drawn one reason from yourself,
+But public safety, and my son's green years:
+In this neglecting that main argument,
+Trust me you chide my filial piety;
+As if I could be won from my resolves
+By Troy, or by my son, or any name
+More dear to me than yours.
+
+_Priam._ I did not name myself, because I know
+When thou art gone, I need no Grecian sword
+To help me die, but only Hector's loss.--
+Daughter, why speak not you? why stand you silent?
+Have you no right in Hector, as a wife?
+
+_Andro._ I would be worthy to be Hector's wife:
+And had I been a man, as my soul's one,
+I had aspired a nobler name,--his friend.
+How I love Hector,--need I say I love him?--
+I am not but in him:
+But when I see him arming for his honour,
+His country and his gods, that martial fire,
+That mounts his courage, kindles even to me:
+And when the Trojan matrons wait him out
+With prayers, and meet with blessings his return,
+The pride of virtue beats within my breast,
+To wipe away the sweat and dust of war,
+And dress my hero glorious in his wounds.
+
+_Hect._ Come to my arms, thou manlier virtue, come!
+Thou better name than wife! would'st thou not blush
+To hug a coward thus?                                      [_Embrace._
+
+_Priam._ Yet still I fear!
+
+_Andro._ There spoke a woman; pardon, royal sir;
+Has he not met a thousand lifted swords
+Of thick-ranked Grecians, and shall one affright him?
+There's not a day but he encounters armies;
+And yet as safe, as if the broad-brimmed shield,
+That Pallas wears, were held 'twixt him and death.
+
+_Hect._ Thou know'st me well, and thou shalt praise me more;
+Gods make me worthy of thee!
+
+_Andro._ You shall be
+My knight this day; you shall not wear a cause
+So black as Helen's rape upon your breast.
+Let Paris fight for Helen; guilt for guilt:
+But when you fight for honour and for me,
+Then let our equal gods behold an act,
+They may not blush to crown.
+
+_Hect._ Æneas, go,
+And bear my challenge to the Grecian camp.
+If there be one amongst the best of Greece,
+Who holds his honour higher than his ease,
+Who knows his valour, and knows not his fear;
+Who loves his mistress more than in confession,
+And dares avow her beauty and her worth,
+In other arms than hers,--to him this challenge.
+I have a lady of more truth and beauty,
+Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
+And will to-morrow, with the trumpet's call,
+Mid-way between their tents and these our walls,
+Maintain what I have said. If any come,
+My sword shall honour him; if none shall dare,
+Then shall I say, at my return to Troy,
+The Grecian dames are sun-burnt, and not worth
+The splinter of a lance.
+
+_Æn._ It shall be told them,
+As boldly as you gave it.
+
+_Priam._ Heaven protect thee!                               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Pand._ Yonder he stands, poor wretch! there stands he with such a
+look, and such a face, and such begging eyes! there he stands, poor
+prisoner!
+
+_Cress._ What a deluge of words do you pour out, uncle, to say just
+nothing?
+
+_Pand._ Nothing, do you call it! is that nothing, do you call that
+nothing? why he looks, for all the world, like one of your rascally
+malefactors, just thrown off the gibbet, with his cap down, his arms
+tied down, his feet sprunting, his body swinging. Nothing do you call
+it? this is nothing, with a vengeance!
+
+_Cress._ Or, what think you of a hurt bird, that flutters about with a
+broken wing?
+
+_Pand._ Why go to then, he cannot fly away then; then, that's certain,
+that's undoubted: there he lies to be taken up: but if you had seen
+him, when I said to him,--Take a good heart, man, and follow me; and
+fear no colours, and speak your mind, man: she can never stand you;
+she will fall, an' 'twere a leaf in autumn,--
+
+_Cress._ Did you tell him all this, without my consent?
+
+_Pand._ Why you did consent, your eyes consented; they blabbed, they
+leered, their very corners blabbed. But you'll say, your tongue said
+nothing. No, I warrant it: your tongue was wiser; your tongue was
+better bred; your tongue kept its own counsel: nay, I'll say that for
+you, your tongue said nothing.--Well, such a shamefaced couple did I
+never see, days o'my life! so 'fraid of one another; such ado to bring
+you to the business! Well, if this job were well over, if ever I lose
+my pains again with an aukward couple, let me be painted in the
+sign-post for the _labour in vain_: Fye upon't, fye upon't! there's no
+conscience in't: all honest people will cry shame on't.
+
+_Cress._ Where is this monster to be shown? what's to be given for a
+sight of him?
+
+_Pand._ Why, ready money, ready money; you carry it about you: give
+and take is square-dealing; for in my conscience he's as arrant a maid
+as you are. I was fain to use violence to him, to pull him hither: and
+he pulled, and I pulled: for you must know he's absolutely the
+strongest youth in Troy. T'other day he took Helen in one hand, and
+Paris in t'other, and danc'd 'em at one another at arms-end an' 'twere
+two moppets:--there was a back! there were bone and sinews! there was
+a back for you!
+
+_Cress._ For these good procuring offices you'll be damned one day,
+uncle.
+
+_Pand._ Who, I damned? Faith, I doubt I shall; by my troth I think I
+shall: nay if a man be damned for doing good, as thou say'st, it may
+go hard with me.
+
+_Cress._ Then I'll not see prince Troilus; I'll not be accessary to
+your damnation.
+
+_Pand._ How, not see prince Troilus? why I have engaged, I have
+promised, I have past my word. I care not for damning, let me alone
+for damning; I value not damning in comparison with my word. If I am
+damned, it shall be a good damning to thee, girl, thou shalt be my
+heir; come, 'tis a virtuous girl; thou shalt help me to keep my word,
+thou shalt see prince Troilus.
+
+_Cress._ The venture's great.
+
+_Pand._ No venture in the world; thy mother ventured it for thee, and
+thou shalt venture it for my little cousin, that must be.
+
+_Cress._ Weigh but my fears: Prince Troilus is young.--
+
+_Pand._ Marry is he; there's no fear in that, I hope: the fear were,
+if he were old and feeble.
+
+_Cress._ And I a woman.
+
+_Pand._ No fear yet; thou art a woman, and he's a man; put them
+together, put them together.
+
+_Cress._ And if I should be frail--
+
+_Pand._ There's all my fear, that thou art not frail: thou should'st
+be frail, all flesh is frail.
+
+_Cress._ Are you my uncle, and can give this counsel to your own
+brother's daughter?
+
+_Pand._ If thou wert my own daughter a thousand times over, I could do
+no better for thee; what wouldst thou have, girl? he's a prince, and a
+young prince and a loving young prince! an uncle, dost thou call me?
+by Cupid, I am a father to thee; get thee in, get thee in, girl, I
+hear him coming. And do you hear, niece! I give you leave to deny a
+little, 'twill be decent; but take heed of obstinacy, that's a vice;
+no obstinacy, my dear niece.                         [_Exit_ CRESSIDA.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Now, Pandarus.
+
+_Pand._ Now, my sweet prince! have you seen my niece? no, I know you
+have not.
+
+_Troil._ No, Pandarus; I stalk about your doors.
+Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks,
+Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
+And give me swift transportance to Elysium,
+And fly with me to Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Walk here a moment more: I'll bring her strait.
+
+_Troil._ I fear she will not come; most sure she will not.
+
+_Pand._ How, not come, and I her uncle! why, I tell you, prince, she
+twitters at you. Ah poor sweet rogue! ah, little rogue, now does she
+think, and think, and think again of what must be betwixt you two. Oh
+sweet,--oh sweet--O--what, not come, and I her uncle?
+
+_Troil._ Still thou flatter'st me; but pr'ythee flatter still; for I
+would hope; I would not wake out of my pleasing dream. Oh hope, how
+sweet thou art! but to hope always, and have no effect of what we
+hope!
+
+_Pand._ Oh faint heart, faint heart! well, there's much good matter in
+these old proverbs! No, she'll not come, I warrant her; she has no
+blood of mine in her, not so much as will fill a flea. But if she does
+not come, and come, and come with a swing into your arms--I say no
+more, but she has renounced all grace, and there's an end.
+
+_Troil._ I will believe thee: go then, but be sure.
+
+_Pand._ No, you would not have me go; you are indifferent--shall I go,
+say you? speak the word then:--yet I care not: you may stand in your
+own light, and lose a sweet young lady's heart--well, I shall not go
+then.
+
+_Troil._ Fly, fly, thou torturest me.
+
+_Pand._ Do I so, do I so? do I torture you indeed? well, I will go.
+
+_Troil._ But yet thou dost not go.
+
+_Pand._ I go immediately, directly, in a twinkling, with a thought:
+yet you think a man never does enough for you; I have been labouring
+in your business like any moyle. I was with prince Paris this morning,
+to make your excuse at night for not supping at court; and I found
+him--faith, how do you think I found him? it does my heart good to
+think how I found him: yet you think a man never does enough for you.
+
+_Troil._ Will you go then?--What's this to Cressida?
+
+_Pand._ Why, you will not hear a man! what's this to Cressida? Why, I
+found him a-bed, a-bed with Helena, by my troth: 'Tis a sweet queen, a
+sweet queen; a very sweet queen,--but she's nothing to my cousin
+Cressida; she's a blowse, a gipsy, a tawny moor to my cousin Cressida;
+and she lay with one white arm underneath the whoreson's neck: Oh such
+a white, lilly-white, round, plump arm as it was--and you must know it
+was stripped up to the elbows; and she did so kiss him, and so huggle
+him!--as who should say--
+
+_Troil._ But still thou stayest:--what's this to Cressida?
+
+_Pand._ Why, I made your excuse to your brother Paris; that I think's
+to Cressida:--but such an arm, such a hand, such taper fingers!
+t'other hand was under the bed-cloaths; that I saw not, I confess;
+that hand I saw not.
+
+_Troil._ Again thou torturest me.
+
+_Pand._ Nay, I was tortured too; old as I am, I was tortured too: but
+for all that, I could make a shift, to make him, to make your excuse,
+to make your father--by Jove, when I think of that hand, I am so
+ravished, that I know not what I say: I was tortured too.
+                                   [TROILUS _turns away discontented._
+Well, I go, I go; I fetch her, I bring her, I conduct her; not come
+quotha, and I her uncle!                             [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Troil._ I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round:
+The imaginary relish is so sweet,
+That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
+When I shall taste that nectar?
+It must be either death, or joy too fine
+For the capacity of human powers.
+I fear it much: and I do fear beside,
+That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
+As does a battle, when they charge on heaps
+A flying enemy.
+
+  _Re-enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ She's making her ready; she'll come strait: you must be witty
+now!--she does so blush, and fetches her breath so short, as if she
+were frighted with a sprite; 'tis the prettiest villain! she fetches
+her breath so short, as 'twere a new-ta'en sparrow.
+
+_Troil._ Just such a passion does heave up my breast!
+My heart beats thicker than a feverish pulse:
+I know not where I am, nor what I do;
+Just like a slave, at unawares encountering
+The eye of majesty.--Lead on, I'll follow.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_The Camp._
+
+  _Enter_ NESTOR, _and_ ULYSSES.
+
+_Ulys._ I have conceived an embryo in my brain:
+Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
+
+_Nest._ What is't, Ulysses?
+
+_Ulys._ The seeded pride,
+That has to this maturity blown up
+In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped,
+Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like ill,
+To overtop us all.
+
+_Nest._ That's my opinion.
+
+_Ulys._ This challenge which Æneas brings from Hector,
+However it be spread in general terms,
+Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
+And will it wake him to the answer, think you?
+
+_Nest._ It ought to do: whom can we else oppose,
+Who could from Hector bring his honour off,
+If not Achilles? the success of this,
+Although particular, will give an omen
+Of good or bad, even to the general cause.
+
+_Ulys._ Pardon me, Nestor, if I contradict you:
+Therefore 'tis fit Achilles meet not Hector.
+Let us, like merchants, show our coarsest wares,
+And think, perchance they'll sell; but, if they do not,
+The lustre of our better, yet unshown,
+Will show the better: let us not consent,
+Our greatest warrior should be matched with Hector;
+For both our honour and our shame in this
+Shall be attended with strange followers.
+
+_Nest._ I see them not with my old eyes; what are they?
+
+_Ulys._ What glory our Achilles gains from Hector,
+Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
+But he already is too insolent:
+And we had better parch in Afric sun,
+Than in his pride, should he 'scape Hector fair.
+But grant he should be foiled;
+Why then our common reputation suffers
+In that of our best man. No, make a lottery;
+And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
+The chance to fight with Hector: among ourselves,
+Give him allowance as the braver man;
+For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
+Who swells with loud applause; and make him fall
+His crest, if brainless Ajax come safe off:
+If not, we yet preserve a fair opinion,
+That we have better men.
+
+_Nest._ Now I begin to relish thy advice:
+Come, let us go to Agamemnon strait,
+To inform him of our project.
+
+_Ulys._ 'Tis not ripe.
+The skilful surgeon will not lance a sore,
+Till nature has digested and prepared
+The growing humours to her healing purpose;
+Else must he often grieve the patient's sense,
+When one incision, once well-timed, would serve.
+Are not Achilles and dull Ajax friends?
+
+_Nest._ As much as fools can be.
+
+_Ulys._ That knot of friendship first must be untied,
+Ere we can reach our ends; for, while they love each other,
+Both hating us, will draw too strong a bias,
+And all the camp will lean that way they draw;
+For brutal courage is the soldier's idol:
+So, if one prove contemptuous, backed by t'other,
+'Twill give the law to cool and sober sense,
+And place the power of war in madmen's hands.
+
+_Nest._ Now I conceive you; were they once divided,
+And one of them made ours, that one would check
+The other's towering growth, and keep both low,
+As instruments, and not as lords of war.
+And this must be by secret coals of envy
+Blown in their breast; comparisons of worth;
+Great actions weighed of each; and each the best,
+As we shall give him voice.
+
+_Ulys._ Here comes Thersites,
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+Who feeds on Ajax, yet loves him not, because he cannot love;
+But, as a species differing from mankind,
+Hates all he sees, and rails at all he knows;
+But hates them most from whom he most receives,
+Disdaining that his lot should be so low,
+That he should want the kindness which he takes.
+
+_Nest._ There's none so fit an engine:--Save ye, Thersites.
+
+_Ulys._ Hail, noble Grecian! thou relief of toils,
+Soul of our mirth, and joy of sullen war,
+In whose converse our winter nights are short,
+And summer days not tedious.
+
+_Thers._ Hang you both.
+
+_Nest._ How, hang us both!
+
+_Thers._ But hang thee first, thou very reverend fool!
+Thou sapless oak, that liv'st by wanting thought,
+And now, in thy three hundredth year, repin'st
+Thou shouldst be felled: hanging's a civil death,
+The death of men; thou canst not hang; thy trunk
+Is only fit for gallows to hang others.
+
+_Nest._ A fine greeting.
+
+_Thers._ A fine old dotard, to repine at hanging
+At such an age! what saw the Gods in thee,
+That a cock-sparrow should but live three years,
+And thou shouldst last three ages? he's thy better;
+He uses life; he treads himself to death.
+Thou hast forgot thy use some hundred years.
+Thou stump of man, thou worn-out broom, thou lumber!
+
+_Nest._ I'll hear no more of him, his poison works;
+What, curse me for my age!
+
+_Ulys._ Hold, you mistake him, Nestor; 'tis his custom:
+What malice is there in a mirthful scene?
+'Tis but a keen-edged sword, spread o'er with balm,
+To heal the wound it makes.
+
+_Thers._ Thou beg'st a curse?
+May'st thou quit scores then, and be hanged on Nestor,
+Who hangs on thee! thou lead'st him by the nose;
+Thou play'st him like a puppet; speak'st within him;
+And when thou hast contrived some dark design,
+To lose a thousand Greeks, make dogs-meat of us,
+Thou lay'st thy cuckoo's egg within his nest,
+And mak'st him hatch it; teachest his remembrance
+To lie, and say, the like of it was practised
+Two hundred years ago; thou bring'st the brain,
+And he brings only beard to vouch thy plots.
+
+_Nest._ I'm no man's fool.
+
+_Thers._ Then be thy own, that's worse.
+
+_Nest._ He'll rail all day.
+
+_Ulys._ Then we shall learn all day.
+Who forms the body to a graceful carriage,
+Must imitate our aukward motions first;
+The same prescription does the wise Thersites
+Apply, to mend our minds. The same he uses
+To Ajax, to Achilles, to the rest;
+His satires are the physic of the camp.
+
+_Thers._ Would they were poison to't, ratsbane and hemlock!
+Nothing else can mend you, and those two brawny fools.
+
+_Ulys._ He hits 'em right;
+Are they not such, my Nestor?
+
+_Thers._ Dolt-heads, asses,
+And beasts of burden; Ajax and Achilles!
+The pillars, no, the porters of the war.
+Hard-headed rogues! engines, mere wooden engines
+Pushed on to do your work.
+
+_Nest._ They are indeed.
+
+_Thers._ But what a rogue art thou,
+To say they are indeed! Heaven made them horses,
+And thou put'st on their harness, rid'st and spurr'st them;
+Usurp'st upon heaven's fools, and mak'st them thine.
+
+_Nest._ No; they are headstrong fools, to be corrected
+By none but by Thersites; thou alone
+Canst tame and train them to their proper use;
+And, doing this, may'st claim a just reward
+From Greece and royal Agamemnon's hands.
+
+_Thers._ Ay, when you need a man, you talk of giving,
+For wit's a dear commodity among you;
+But when you do not want him, then stale porridge,
+A starved dog would not lap, and furrow water,
+Is all the wine we taste: give drabs and pimps;
+I'll have no gifts with hooks at end of them.
+
+_Ulys._ Is this a man, O Nestor, to be bought?
+Asia's not price enough! bid the world for him.
+And shall this man, this Hermes, this Apollo,
+Sit lag of Ajax' table, almost minstrel,
+And with his presence grace a brainless feast?
+Why they con sense from him, grow wits by rote,
+And yet, by ill repeating, libel him,
+Making his wit their nonsense: nay, they scorn him;
+Call him bought railer, mercenary tongue!
+Play him for sport at meals, and kick him off.
+
+_Thers._ Yes, they can kick; my buttocks feel they can;
+They have their asses tricks; but I'll eat pebbles,
+I'll starve,--'tis brave to starve, 'tis like a soldier,--
+Before I'll feed those wit-starved rogues with sense.
+They shall eat dry, and choak for want of wit,
+Ere they be moistened with one drop of mine.
+Ajax and Achilles! two mud-walls of fool,
+That only differ in degrees of thickness.
+
+_Ulys._ I'd be revenged of both. When wine fumes high,
+Set them to prate, to boast their brutal strength,
+To vie their stupid courage, till they quarrel,
+And play at hard head with their empty skulls.
+
+_Thers._ Yes; they shall butt and kick, and all the while
+I'll think they kick for me; they shall fell timber
+On both sides, and then logwood will be cheap.
+
+_Nest._ And Agamemnon--
+
+_Thers._ Pox of Agamemnon!
+Cannot I do a mischief for myself,
+But he must thank me for't?
+
+_Ulys._ to _Nest._ Away; our work is done. [_Exeunt_ ULYS. _and_ NEST.
+
+_Thers._ This Agamemnon is a king of clouts,
+A chip in porridge,--
+
+  _Enter_ AJAX.
+
+_Ajax._ Thersites.
+
+_Thers._ Set up to frighten daws from cherry-trees,--
+
+_Ajax._ Dog!
+
+_Thers._ A standard to march under.
+
+_Ajax._ Thou bitch-wolf! can'st thou not hear? feel then.
+                                                       [_Strikes him._
+
+_Thers._ The plague of Greece, and Helen's pox light on thee,
+Thou mongrel mastiff, thou beef-witted lord!
+
+_Ajax._ Speak then, thou mouldy leaven of the camp;
+Speak, or I'll beat thee into handsomeness.
+
+_Thers._ I shall sooner rail thee into wit; thou canst kick, canst
+thou? A red murrain on thy jades tricks!
+
+_Ajax._ Tell me the proclamation.
+
+_Thers._ Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
+
+_Ajax._ You whorson cur, take that.                    [_Strikes him._
+
+_Thers._ Thou scurvy valiant ass!
+
+_Ajax._ Thou slave!
+
+_Thers._ Thou lord!--Ay, do, do,--would my buttocks were iron, for thy
+sake!
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Achil._ Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you this?
+How now, Thersites, what's the matter, man?
+
+_Thers._ I say this Ajax wears his wit in's belly, and his guts in's
+brains.
+
+_Achil._ Peace, fool.
+
+_Thers._ I would have peace, but the fool will not.
+
+_Patro._ But what's the quarrel?
+
+_Ajax._ I bade him tell me the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
+
+_Thers._ I serve thee not.
+
+_Ajax._ I shall cut out your tongue.
+
+_Thers._ 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much sense as thou
+afterwards. I'll see you hanged ere I come any more to your tent; I'll
+keep where there's wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
+                                                             [_Going._
+
+_Achil._ Nay, thou shalt not go, Thersites, till we have squeezed the
+venom out of thee: pr'ythee, inform us of this proclamation.
+
+_Thers._ Why, you empty fuz-balls, your heads are full of nothing else
+but proclamations.
+
+_Ajax._ Tell us the news, I say.
+
+_Thers._ You say! why you never said any thing in all your life. But,
+since you will know, it is proclaimed through the army, that Hector is
+to cudgel you to-morrow.
+
+_Achil._ How, cudgel him, Thersites!
+
+_Thers._ Nay, you may take a child's part on't if you have so much
+courage, for Hector has challenged the toughest of the Greeks; and it
+is in dispute which of your two heads is the soundest timber. A knotty
+piece of work he'll have betwixt your noddles.
+
+_Achil._ If Hector be to fight with any Greek,
+He knows his man.
+
+_Ajax._ Yes; he may know his man without art magic.
+
+_Thers._ So he had need; for, to my certain knowledge, neither of you
+two are conjurers to inform him.
+
+_Achil._ to _Ajax._ You do not mean yourself, sure?
+
+_Ajax._ I mean nothing.
+
+_Thers._ Thou mean'st so always.
+
+_Achil._ Umh! mean nothing!
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Jove, if it be thy will, let these two fools
+quarrel about nothing! 'tis a cause that's worthy of them.
+
+_Ajax._ You said he knew his man; is there but one?
+One man amongst the Greeks?
+
+_Achil._ Since you will have it,
+But one to fight with Hector.
+
+_Ajax._ Then I am he.
+
+_Achil._ Weak Ajax!
+
+_Ajax._ Weak Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ Weak indeed; God help you both!
+
+_Patro._ Come, this must be no quarrel.
+
+_Thers._ There's no cause for't
+
+_Patro._ He tells you true, you are both equal.
+
+_Thers._ Fools.
+
+_Achil._ I can brook no comparisons.
+
+_Ajax._ Nor I.
+
+_Achil._ Well, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ Well, Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ So, now they quarrel in monosyllables; a word and a blow,
+an't be thy will.
+
+_Achil._ You may hear more.
+
+_Ajax._ I would.
+
+_Achil._ Expect.
+
+_Ajax._ Farewell.                                 [_Exeunt severally._
+
+_Thers._ Curse on them, they want wine; your true fool will never
+fight without it. Or a drab, a drab; Oh for a commodious drab betwixt
+them! would Helen had been here! then it had come to something.
+  Dogs, lions, bulls, for females tear and gore;
+  And the beast, man, is valiant for his whore.     [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ Shall the idiot Ajax use me thus? he beats me, and I rail at
+him. O worthy satisfaction! would I could but beat him, and he railed
+at me! Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer; if Troy be not taken
+till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of
+themselves. Now the plague on the whole camp, or rather the pox; for
+that's a curse dependent on those that fight, as we do, for a
+cuckold's quean.--What, ho, my lord Achilles!
+
+  _Enter_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Patro._ Who's there, Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail.
+
+_Thers._ If I could have remembered an ass with gilt trappings, thou
+hadst not slipped out of my contemplation. But it is no matter:
+thyself upon thyself! the common curse of mankind, folly and
+ignorance, be thine in great abundance! Heavens bless thee from a
+tutor, and discipline come not near thee!--I have said my prayers; and
+the devil, Envy, say Amen. Where's Achilles?
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES.
+
+_Achil._ Who's there, Thersites? Why, my digestion, why hast thou not
+served thyself to my table so many meals? Come, begin; what's
+Agamemnon?
+
+_Thers._ Thy commander, Achilles.--Then tell me, Patroclus, what's
+Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ Thy benefactor, Thersites. Then tell me, pr'ythee, what's
+thyself?
+
+_Thers._ Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art
+thou?
+
+_Patro._ Thou mayest tell, that knowest.
+
+_Achil._ O, tell, tell.--This must be very foolish; and I die to have
+my spleen tickled.
+
+_Thers._ I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles;
+Achilles is my benefactor; I am Patroclus's knower; and Patroclus is a
+fool.
+
+_Patro._ You rascal!
+
+_Achil,_ He is a privileged man; proceed, Thersites. Ha, ha, ha!
+pr'ythee, proceed, while I am in the vein of laughing.
+
+_Thers._ And all these foresaid men are fools. Agamemnon's a fool, to
+offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool, to be commanded by him;
+I am a fool, to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.
+
+_Patro._ Why am I a fool?
+
+_Thers._ Make that demand to heaven; it suffices me, thou art one.
+
+_Acini._ Ha, ha, ha! O give me ribs of steel, or I shall split with
+pleasure.--Now play me Nestor at a night alarm: mimick him rarely;
+make him cough and spit, and fumble with his gorget, and shake the
+rivets with his palsy hand, in and out, in and out; gad, that's
+exceeding foolish.
+
+_Patro._ Nestor shall not escape so; he has told us what we are. Come,
+what's Nestor?
+
+_Thers._ Why, he is an old wooden top, set up by father Time three
+hundred years ago, that hums to Agamemnon and Ulysses, and sleeps to
+all the world besides.
+
+_Achil._ So let him sleep, for I'll no more of him.--O, my Patroclus,
+I but force a smile; Ajax has drawn the lot, and all the praise of
+Hector must be his.
+
+_Thers._ I hope to see his praise upon his shoulders, in blows and
+bruises; his arms, thighs, and body, all full of fame, such fame as he
+gave me; and a wide hole at last full in his bosom, to let in day upon
+him, and discover the inside of a fool.
+
+_Patro._ How he struts in expectation of honour! he knows not what he
+does.
+
+_Thers._ Nay, that's no wonder, for he never did.
+
+_Achil._ Pr'ythee, say how he behaves himself?
+
+_Thers._ O, you would be learning to practise against such another
+time?--Why, he tosses up his head as he had built castles in the air;
+and he treads upward to them, stalks into the element; he surveys
+himself, as it were to look for Ajax: he would be cried, for he has
+lost himself; nay, he knows nobody; I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax," and
+he replied, "Thanks, Agamemnon."
+
+_Achil._ Thou shalt be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
+
+_Thers._ No, I'll put on his person; let Patroclus make his demands to
+me, and you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
+
+_Achil._ To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax
+to invite the noble Hector to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for
+him from our captain general Agamemnon.
+
+_Patro._ Jove bless the mighty Ajax!
+
+_Thers._ Humh!
+
+_Patro._ I come from the great Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ Ha!
+
+_Patro._ Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent.
+
+_Thers._ Humh!
+
+_Patro._ And to procure him safe conduct from Agamemnon.
+
+_Thers._ Agamemnon?
+
+_Patro._ Ay, my lord.
+
+_Thers._ Ha!
+
+_Patro._ What say you to it?
+
+_Thers._ Farewell, with all my heart.
+
+_Patro._ Your answer, sir?
+
+_Thers._ If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one
+way or the other; however, he shall buy me dearly. Fare you well, with
+all my heart.
+
+_Achil._ Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
+
+_Thers._ No; but he's thus out of tune. What music will be in him when
+Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not, nor I care not; but if
+emptiness makes noise, his head will make melody.
+
+_Achil._ My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; And I myself
+see not the bottom on't.
+
+_Thers._ Would the fountain of his mind were clear, that he might see
+an ass in it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant
+ignorance.                                                   [_Aside._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, AJAX, DIOMEDES, _and_ MENELAUS.
+
+_Patro._ Look, who comes here.
+
+_Achil._ Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody;--come in after me,
+Thersites.                         [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ THERSITES.
+
+_Again._ Where's Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ Within, but ill disposed, my lord.
+
+_Men._ We saw him at the opening of his tent.
+
+_Again._ Let it be known to him, that we are here.
+
+_Patro._ I shall say so to him.                        [_Exit_ PATROC.
+
+_Diom._ I know he is not sick.
+
+_Ajax._ Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it
+melancholy, if you will humour him; but, on my honour, it is no more
+than pride; and why should he be proud?
+
+_Men._ Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles with him.
+
+  _Enter_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Patro._ Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry
+If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
+Did move you to this visit: He's not well,
+And begs you would excuse him, as unfit
+For present business.
+
+_Agam._ How! how's this, Patroclus?
+We are too well acquainted with these answers.
+Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues
+Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss.
+We came to speak with him; you shall not err,
+If you return, we think him over-proud,
+And under-honest. Tell him this; and add,
+That if he overhold his price so much,
+We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
+Not portable, lie lag of all the camp.
+A stirring dwarf is of more use to us,
+Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.
+
+_Patro._ I shall, and bring his answer presently.
+
+_Agam._ I'll not be satisfied, but by himself:
+So tell him, Menelaus.             [_Exeunt_ MENELAUS _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Ajax._ What's he more than another?
+
+_Agam._ No more than what he thinks himself.
+
+_Ajax._ Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better
+man than me?
+
+_Diom._ No doubt he does.
+
+_Ajax._ Do you think so?
+
+_Agam._ No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant but much more
+courteous.
+
+_Ajax._ Why should a man be proud? I know not what pride is; I hate a
+proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
+
+_Diom._ [_Aside._] 'Tis strange he should, and love himself so well.
+
+  _Re-enter_ MENELAUS.
+
+_Men._ Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
+
+_Agam._ What's his excuse?
+
+_Men._ Why, he relies on none
+But his own will; possessed he is with vanity.
+What should I say? he is so plaguy proud,
+That the death-tokens of it are upon him,
+And bode there's no recovery.
+
+  _Enter_ ULYSSES _and_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Let Ajax go to him.
+
+_Ulys._ O Agamemnon, let it not be so.
+We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
+When they go from Achilles. Shall that proud man
+Be worshipped by a greater than himself,
+One, whom we hold our idol?
+Shall Ajax go to him? No, Jove forbid,
+And say in thunder, go to him, Achilles.
+
+_Nest._ [_Aside._] O, this is well; he rubs him where it itches.
+
+_Ajax._ If I go to him, with my gauntlet clenched I'll pash him o'er
+the face.
+
+_Agam._ O no, you shall not go.
+
+_Ajax._ An he be proud with me, I'll cure his pride; a paultry
+insolent fellow!
+
+_Nest._ How he describes himself!                            [_Aside._
+
+_Ulys._ The crow chides blackness: [_Aside._]--Here is a man,--but
+'tis before his face, and therefore I am silent.
+
+_Nest._ Wherefore are you? He is not envious, as Achilles is.
+
+_Ulys._ Know all the world, he is as valiant.
+
+_Ajax._ A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would a were a
+Trojan!
+
+_Ulys._ Thank heaven, my lord, you're of a gentle nature;
+Praise him that got you, her that brought you forth;
+But he, who taught you first the use of arms,
+Let Mars divide eternity in two,
+And give him half. I will not praise your wisdom,
+Nestor shall do't; but, pardon, father Nestor,--
+Were you as green as Ajax, and your brain
+Tempered like his, you never should excel him,
+But be as Ajax is.
+
+_Ajax._ Shall I call you father?
+
+_Ulys._ Ay, my good son.
+
+_Diom._ Be ruled by him, lord Ajax.
+
+_Ulys._ There is no staying here; the hart Achilles
+Keeps thicket;--please it our great general,
+I shall impart a counsel, which, observed,
+May cure the madman's pride.
+
+_Agam._ In my own tent our talk will be more private.
+
+_Ulys._ But nothing without Ajax;
+He is the soul and substance of my counsels,
+And I am but his shadow.
+
+_Ajax._ You shall see
+I am not like Achilles.
+Let us confer, and I'll give counsel too.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS, TROILUS, _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Pand._ Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby; swear the
+oaths now to her, that you swore to me: What, are you gone again? you
+must be watched ere you are made tame, must you? Why don't you speak
+to her first?--Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture;
+alas-a-day, how loth you are to offend day-light! [_They kiss._]
+That's well, that's well; nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I
+part you. So so--so so--
+
+_Troil._ You have bereft me of all words, fair Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Words pay no debts; give her deeds.--What billing again!
+Here's, in witness whereof the parties interchangeably--come in, come
+in, you lose time both.
+
+_Troil._ O Cressida, how often have I wished me here!
+
+_Cres._ Wished, my lord!--The gods grant!--O, my lord--
+
+_Troil._ What should they grant? what makes this pretty interruption
+in thy words?
+
+_Cres._ I speak I know not what!
+
+_Troil._ Speak ever so; and if I answer you
+I know not what--it shows the more of love.
+Love is a child that talks in broken language,
+Yet then he speaks most plain.
+
+_Cres._ I find it true, that to be wise, and love,
+Are inconsistent things.
+
+_Pand._ What, blushing still! have you not done talking yet?
+
+_Cres._ Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
+
+_Pand._ I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give
+him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, I'll be hanged for him.--Now
+am I in my kingdom!                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ You know your pledges now; your uncle's word, and my firm
+faith.
+
+_Pand._ Nay, I'll give my word for her too: Our kindred are constant;
+they are burs, I can assure you; they'll stick where they are thrown.
+
+_Cres._ Boldness comes to me now, and I can speak:
+Prince Troilus, I have loved you long.
+
+_Troil._ Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?
+
+_Cres._ Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord--
+What have I blabbed? who will be true to us,
+When we are so unfaithful to ourselves!
+O bid me hold my tongue; for, in this rapture,
+Sure I shall speak what I should soon repent.
+But stop my mouth.
+
+_Troil._ A sweet command, and willingly obeyed.             [_Kisses._
+
+_Pand._ Pretty, i'faith!
+
+_Cres._ My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
+'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.
+I am ashamed;--O heavens, what have I done!
+For this time let me take my leave, my lord.
+
+_Pand._ Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning, call me Cut.
+
+_Cres._ Pray, let me go.
+
+_Troil._ Why, what offends you, madam?
+
+_Cres._ My own company.
+
+_Troil._ You cannot shun yourself.
+
+_Cres._ Let me go try;
+I have a kind of self resides in you.
+
+_Troil._ Oh that I thought truth could be in a woman,
+(As if it can, I will presume in you,)
+That my integrity and faith might meet
+The same return from her, who has my heart,
+How should I be exalted! but, alas,
+I am more plain than dull simplicity,
+And artless as the infancy of truth!
+
+_Cres._ In that I must not yield to you, my lord.
+
+_Troil._ All constant lovers shall, in future ages,
+Approve their truth by Troilus. When their verse
+Wants similes,--as turtles to their mates,
+Or true as flowing tides are to the moon,
+Earth to the centre, iron to adamant,--
+At last, when truth is tired with repetition,
+As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse,
+And sanctify the numbers.
+
+_Cres._ Prophet may you be!
+If I am false, or swerve from truth of love,
+When Time is old, and has forgot itself
+In all things else, let it remember me;
+And, after all comparisons of falsehood,
+To stab the heart of perjury in maids,
+Let it be said--as false as Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Go to, little ones; a bargain made. Here I hold your hand, and
+here my cousin's: if ever you prove false to one another, after I have
+taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between
+be called to the world's end after my name, _Pandars._
+
+_Cres._ And will you promise, that the holy priest
+Shall make us one for ever?
+
+_Pand._ Priests! marry hang them, they make you one! Go in, go in, and
+make yourselves one without a priest; I'll have no priest's work in my
+house.
+
+_Cres._ I'll not consent, unless you swear.
+
+_Pand._ Ay, do, do swear; a pretty woman's worth an oath at any time.
+Keep or break, as time shall try; but it is good to swear, for the
+saving of her credit. Hang them, sweet rogues, they never expect a man
+should keep it. Let him but swear, and that's all they care for.
+
+_Troil._ Heavens prosper me, as I devoutly swear,
+Never to be but yours!
+
+_Pand._ Whereupon I will lead you into a chamber; and suppose there be
+a bed in it, as, ifack, I know not, but you'll forgive me if there
+be--away, away, you naughty hildings; get you together, get you
+together. Ah you wags, do you leer indeed at one another! do the neyes
+twinkle at him! get you together, get you together. [_Leads them out._
+
+  _Enter at one Door_ ÆNEAS, _with a Torch; at another,_ HECTOR _and_
+  DIOMEDE, _with Torches._
+
+_Hect._ So ho, who goes there? Æneas!
+
+_Æn._ Prince Hector!
+
+_Diom._ Good-morrow, lord Æneas.
+
+_Hect._ A valiant Greek, Æneas; take his hand;
+Witness the process of your speech within;
+You told how Diomede a whole week by days
+Did haunt you in the field.
+
+_Æn._ Health to you, valiant sir,
+During all business of the gentle truce;
+But, when I meet you armed, as black defiance,
+As heart can think, or courage execute.
+
+_Diom._ Both one and t'other Diomede embraces.
+Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health;
+But when contention and occasion meet,
+By Jove I'll play the hunter for thy life.
+
+_Æn._ And thou shall hunt a lion, that will fly
+With his face backward. Welcome, Diomede,
+Welcome to Troy. Now, by Anchises' soul,
+No man alive can love in such a sort
+The thing he means to kill more excellently.
+
+_Diom._ We know each other well.
+
+_Æn._ We do; and long to know each other worse.--
+My lord, the king has sent for me in haste;
+Know you the reason?
+
+_Hect._ Yes; his purpose meets you.
+It was to bring this Greek to Calchas' house,
+Where Pandarus his brother, and his daughter
+Fair Cressida reside; and there to render
+For our Antenor, now redeemed from prison,
+The lady Cressida.
+
+_Æn._ What! Has the king resolved to gratify
+That traitor Calchas, who forsook his country,
+And turned to them, by giving up this pledge?
+
+_Hect._ The bitter disposition of the time
+Is such, though Calchas, as a fugitive,
+Deserve it not, that we must free Antenor,
+On whose wise counsels we can most rely;
+And therefore Cressida must be returned.
+
+_Æn._ A word, my lord--Your pardon, Diomede--
+Your brother Troilus, to my certain knowledge,
+Does lodge this night in Pandarus's house.
+
+_Hect._ Go you before. Tell him of our approach,
+Which will, I fear, be much unwelcome to him.
+
+_Æn._ I assure you,
+Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
+Than Cressida from Troy.
+
+_Hect._ I know it well; and how he is, beside,
+Of hasty blood.
+
+_Æn._ He will not hear me speak;
+But I have noted long betwixt you two
+A more than brother's love; an awful homage
+The fiery youth pays to your elder virtue.
+
+_Hect._ Leave it to me; I'll manage him alone;
+Attend you Diomede.--My lord, good-morrow;                 [_To_ DIOM.
+An urgent business takes me from the pleasure
+Your company affords me; but Æneas,
+With joy, will undertake to serve you here,
+And to supply my room.
+
+_Æn._ [_To_ DIOM.] My lord, I wait you.
+                            [_Exeunt severally;_ DIOMEDE _with_ ÆNEAS,
+                             HECTOR _at another Door._
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS, _a Servant, Music._
+
+_Pand._ Softly, villain, softly; I would not for half Troy the lovers
+should be disturbed under my roof: listen, rogue, listen; do they
+breathe?
+
+_Serv._ Yes, sir; I hear, by some certain signs, they are both awake.
+
+_Pand._ That's as it should be; that's well o' both sides.
+[_Listens._]--Yes, 'faith, they are both alive:--There was a creak!
+there was a creak! they are both alive, and alive like;--there was a
+creak! a ha, boys!--Is the music ready?
+
+_Serv._ Shall they strike up, sir?
+
+_Pand._ Art thou sure they do not know the parties?
+
+_Serv._ They play to the man in the moon, for aught they know.
+
+_Pand._ To the man in the moon? ah rogue! do they so indeed, rogue! I
+understand thee; thou art a wag; thou art a wag. Come, towze rowze! in
+the name of love, strike up, boys.
+
+  _Music, and then a Song; during which_ PANDARUS _listens._
+
+          I.
+
+      _Can life be a blessing,
+      Or worth the possessing,
+  Can life be a blessing, if love were away?
+    Ah, no! though our love all night keep us waking,
+  And though he torment us with cares all the day,
+    Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking;
+  There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay._
+
+          II.
+
+      _In every possessing,
+      The ravishing blessing,
+  In every possessing, the fruit of our pain,
+    Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
+  Whate'er they have suffered and done to obtain;
+    'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
+  When we hope, when we hope to be happy again._
+
+_Pand._ Put up, and vanish; they are coming out: What a ferrup, will
+you play when the dance is done? I say, vanish.         [_Exit music._
+[_Peeping._] Good, i'faith! good, i'faith! what, hand in hand--a fair
+quarrel, well ended! Do, do, walk him, walk him;--a good girl, a
+discreet girl: I see she will make the most of him.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Troil._ Farewell, my life! leave me, and back to bed:
+Sleep seal those pretty eyes,
+And tie thy senses in as soft a band,
+As infants void of thought.
+
+_Pand._ [_Shewing himself._] How now, how now; how go matters? Hear
+you, maid, hear you; where's my cousin Cressida?
+
+_Cres._ Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle:
+You bring me to do ill, and then you jeer me!
+
+_Pand._ What ill have I brought you to do? Say what, if you dare
+now?--My lord, have I brought her to do ill?
+
+_Cres._ Come, come,--beshrew your heart, you'll neither be good
+yourself, nor suffer others.
+
+_Pand._ Alas, poor wench! alas, poor devil! Has not slept to-night?
+would a'not, a naughty man, let it sleep one twinkle? A bugbear take
+him!
+
+_Cres._ [_Knock within._]
+Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see:--
+My lord, come you again into my chamber.--
+You smile and mock, as if I meant naughtily!
+
+_Troil._ Indeed, indeed!
+
+_Cres._ Come, you're deceived; I think of no such thing.--
+                                                       [_Knock again._
+How earnestly they knock! Pray, come in: I would
+not for all Troy you were seen here.      [_Exeunt_ TROIL. _and_ CRES.
+
+_Pand._ Who's there? What's the matter?
+Will you beat down the house there!
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR.
+
+_Hect._ Good morrow, my lord Pandarus; good morrow!
+
+_Pand._ Who's there? prince Hector! What news with you so early?
+
+_Hect._ Is not my brother Troilus here?
+
+_Pand._ Here! what should he do here?
+
+_Hect._ Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him:
+It does import him much to speak with me.
+
+_Pand._ Is he here, say you? It is more than I know, I'll be sworn!
+For my part, I came in late.--What should he do here?
+
+_Hect._ Come, come, you do him wrong ere you're aware; you'll be so
+true to him, that you'll be false to him: You shall not know he's
+here; but yet go fetch him hither; go.                   [_Exit_ PAND.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+I bring you, brother, most unwelcome news;
+But since of force you are to hear it told,
+I thought a friend and brother best might tell it:
+Therefore, before I speak, arm well your mind,
+And think you're to be touched even to the quick;
+That so, prepared for ill, you may be less
+Surprised to hear the worst.
+
+_Troil._ See, Hector, what it is to be your brother!
+I stand prepared already.
+
+_Hect._ Come, you are hot;
+I know you, Troilus, you are hot and fiery:
+You kindle at a wrong, and catch it quick,
+As stubble does the flame.
+
+_Troil._ 'Tis heat of blood,
+And rashness of my youth; I'll mend that error:
+Begin, and try my temper.
+
+_Hect._ Can you think
+Of that one thing, which most could urge your anger,
+Drive you to madness, plunge you in despair,
+And make you hate even me?
+
+_Troil._ There can be nothing.
+I love you, brother, with that awful love
+I bear to heaven, and to superior virtue:
+And when I quit this love, you must be that,
+Which Hector ne'er can be.
+
+_Hect._ Remember well
+What you have said; for, when I claim your promise,
+I shall expect performance.
+
+_Troil._ I am taught:
+I will not rage.
+
+_Hect._ Nor grieve beyond a man?
+
+_Troil._ I will not be a woman.
+
+_Hect._ Do not, brother:
+And I will tell my news in terms so mild,
+So tender, and so fearful to offend,
+As mothers use to sooth their froward babes;
+Nay, I will swear, as you have sworn to me,
+That, if some gust of passion swell your soul
+To words intemperate, I will bear with you.
+
+_Troil._ What would this pomp of preparation mean?
+Come you to bring me news of Priam's death,
+Or Hecuba's?
+
+_Hect._ The gods forbid I should!
+But what I bring is nearer you, more close,
+An ill more yours.
+
+_Troil._ There is but one that can be.
+
+_Hect._ Perhaps, 'tis that.
+
+_Troil._ I'll not suspect my fate
+So far; I know I stand possessed of that.
+
+_Hect._ 'Tis well: consider at whose house I find you.
+
+_Troil._ Ha!
+
+_Hect._ Does it start you? I must wake you more;
+Antenor is exchanged.
+
+_Troil._ For whom?
+
+_Hect._ Imagine.
+
+_Troil._ It comes, like thunder grumbling in a cloud,
+Before the dreadful break: If here it fall,
+The subtle flame will lick up all my blood,
+And, in a moment, turn my heart to ashes.
+
+_Hect._ That Cressida for Antenor is exchanged,
+Because I knew 'twas harsh, I would not tell;
+Not all at once; but by degrees and glimpses
+I let it in, lest it might rush upon you,
+And quite o'erpower your soul: In this, I think,
+I showed a friend: your part must follow next;
+Which is, to curb your choler, tame your grief,
+And bear it like a man.
+
+_Troil._ I think I do,
+That I yet live to hear you. But no more;
+Hope for no more; for, should some goddess offer
+To give herself and all her heaven in change,
+I would not part with Cressida: So return
+This answer as my last.
+
+_Hect._ 'Twill not be taken:
+Nor will I bear such news.
+
+_Troil._ You bore me worse.
+
+_Hect._ Worse for yourself; not for the general state,
+And all our common safety, which depends
+On freed Antenor's wisdom.
+
+_Troil._ You would say,
+That I'm the man marked out to be unhappy,
+And made the public sacrifice for Troy.
+
+_Hect._ I would say so indeed; for, can you find
+A fate more glorious than to be that victim?
+If parting from a mistress can procure
+A nation's happiness, show me that prince
+Who dares to trust his future fame so far,
+To stand the shock of annals, blotted thus,--
+He sold his country for a woman's love!
+
+_Troil._ O, she's my life, my being, and my soul!
+
+_Hect._ Suppose she were,--which yet I will not grant,--
+You ought to give her up.
+
+_Troil._ For whom?
+
+_Hect._ The public.
+
+_Troil._ And what are they, that I should give up her,
+To make them happy? Let me tell you, brother,
+The public is the lees of vulgar slaves;
+Slaves, with the minds of slaves; so born, so bred.
+Yet such as these, united in a herd,
+Are called, the public! Millions of such cyphers
+Make up the public sum. An eagle's life
+Is worth a world of crows. Are princes made
+For such as these; who, were one soul extracted
+From all their beings, could not raise a man?--
+
+_Hect._ And what are we, but for such men as these?
+'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god:
+And who should pay it, where would be their altars,
+Were no inferior creatures here on earth?
+Even those, who serve, have their expectancies,
+Degrees of happiness, which they must share,
+Or they'll refuse to serve us.
+
+_Troil._ Let them have it;
+Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use
+They have of life.
+
+_Hect._ You take all these away,
+Unless you give up Cressida.
+
+_Troil._ Forbear:
+Let Paris give up Helen; she's the cause,
+And root, of all this mischief.
+
+_Hect._ Your own suffrage
+Condemns you there: you voted for her stay.
+
+_Troil._ If one must stay, the other shall not go.
+
+_Hect._ She shall not?
+
+_Troil._ Once again I say, she shall not.
+
+_Hect._ Our father has decreed it otherwise.
+
+_Troil._ No matter.
+
+_Hect._ How! no matter, Troilus?
+A king, a father's will!
+
+_Troil._ When 'tis unjust.
+
+_Hect._ Come, she shall go.
+
+_Troil._ She shall? then I am dared.
+
+_Hect._ If nothing else will do.
+
+_Troil._ Answer me first,
+And then I'll answer that,--be sure I will,--
+Whose hand sealed this exchange?
+
+_Hect._ My father's first;
+Then all the council's after.
+
+_Troil._ Was yours there?
+
+_Hect._ Mine was there too.
+
+_Troil._ Then you're no more my friend:
+And for your sake,--now mark me what I say,--
+She shall not go.
+
+_Hect._ Go to; you are a boy.
+
+_Troil._ A boy! I'm glad I am not such a man,
+Not such as thou, a traitor to thy brother;
+Nay, more, thy friend: But friend's a sacred name,
+Which none but brave and honest men should wear:
+In thee 'tis vile; 'tis prostitute; 'tis air;
+And thus, I puff it from me.
+
+_Hect._ Well, young man,
+Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was,
+To one so far unworthy!) bring her out;
+Or, by our father's soul, of which no part
+Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.
+
+_Troil._ I laugh at thee.
+
+_Hect._ Thou dar'st not.
+
+_Troil._ I dare more,
+If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring,
+And see which of us has the larger share
+Of our great father's soul.
+
+_Hect._ No more!--thou know'st me.
+
+_Troil._ I do; and know myself.
+
+_Hect._ All this, ye gods!
+And for the daughter of a fugitive,
+A traitor to his country!
+
+_Troil._ 'Tis too much.
+
+_Hect._ By heaven, too little; for I think her common.
+
+_Troil._ How, common!
+
+_Hect._ Common as the tainted shambles,
+Or as the dust we tread.
+
+_Troil._ By heaven, as chaste as thy Andromache.
+                           [HECTOR _lays his hand on_ TROILUS'S _arm,_
+                            TROILUS _does the same to him._
+
+_Hect._ What, namest thou them together!
+
+_Troil._ No, I do not:
+Fair Cressida is first; as chaste as she,
+But much more fair.
+
+_Hect._ O, patience, patience, heaven!
+Thou tempt'st me strangely: should I kill thee now,
+I know not if the gods can he offended,
+Or think I slew a brother: But, begone!
+Begone, or I shall shake thee into atoms;
+Thou know'st I can.
+
+_Troil._ I care not if you could.
+
+_Hect._ [_walking off._]
+I thank the gods, for calling to my mind
+My promise, that no words of thine should urge me
+Beyond the bounds of reason: But in thee
+'Twas brutal baseness, so forewarned, to fall
+Beneath the name of man; to spurn my kindness;
+And when I offered thee (thou know'st how loth!)
+The wholesome bitter cup of friendly counsel,
+To dash it in my face. Farewell, farewell,
+Ungrateful as thou art: hereafter use
+The name of brother; but of friend no more.              [_Going out._
+
+_Troil._ Wilt thou not break yet, heart?--stay, brother, stay;
+I promised too, but I have broke my vow,
+And you keep yours too well.
+
+_Hect._ What would'st thou more?
+Take heed, young man, how you too far provoke me!
+For heaven can witness, 'tis with much constraint
+That I preserve my faith.
+
+_Troil._ Else you would kill me?
+
+_Hect._ By all the gods I would.
+
+_Troil._ I'm satisfied.
+You have condemned me, and I'll do't myself.
+What's life to him, who has no use of life?
+A barren purchase, held upon hard terms!
+For I have lost (oh, what have I not lost!)
+The fairest, dearest, kindest, of her sex;
+And lost her even by him, by him, ye gods!
+Who only could, and only should protect me!
+And if I had a joy beyond that love,
+A friend, have lost him too!
+
+_Hect._ Speak that again,--
+For I could hear it ever,--saidst thou not,
+That if thou hadst a joy beyond that love,
+It was a friend? O, saidst thou not, a friend!
+That doubting _if_ was kind: then thou'rt divided;
+And I have still some part.
+
+_Troil._ If still you have,
+You do not care to have it.
+
+_Hect._ How, not care!
+
+_Troil._ No, brother, care not.
+
+_Hect._ Am I but thy brother?
+
+_Troil._ You told me, I must call you friend no more.
+
+_Hect._ How far my words were distant from my heart!
+Know, when I told thee so, I loved thee most.
+Alas! it is the use of human frailty,
+To fly to worst extremities with those,
+To whom we are most kind.
+
+_Troil._ Is't possible!
+Then you are still my friend.
+
+_Hect._ Heaven knows I am!
+
+_Troil._ And can forgive the sallies of my passion?
+For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame;
+Have said such words, nay, done such actions too,
+(Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul
+Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye
+On him I have offended.
+
+_Hect._ Peace be to thee,
+And calmness ever there. I blame thee not:
+I know thou lov'st; and what can love not do!
+I cast the wild disorderly account,
+Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion:
+I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.
+
+_Troil._ Do, for I need it: Let me lean my head
+Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there;
+Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!
+
+_Hect._ Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth,
+One who deserved thy love!
+
+_Troil._ Did she deserve?
+
+_Hect._ She did.
+
+_Troil._ Then sure she was no common creature?
+
+_Hect._ I said it in my rage; I thought not so.
+
+_Troil._ That thought has blessed me! But to lose this love,
+After long pains, and after short possession!
+
+_Hect._ I feel it for thee: Let me go to Priam,
+I'll break this treaty off; or let me fight:
+I'll be thy champion, and secure both her,
+And thee, and Troy.
+
+_Troil._ It must not be, my brother;
+For then your error would be more than mine:
+I'll bring her forth, and you shall bear her hence;
+That you have pitied me is my reward.
+
+_Hect._ Go, then; and the good gods restore her to thee,
+And, with her, all the quiet of thy mind!
+The triumph of this kindness be thy own;
+  And heaven and earth this testimony yield,
+  That friendship never gained a nobler field.    [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ CRESSIDA _meeting._
+
+_Pand._ Is't possible? no sooner got but lost?
+The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad:
+A plague upon Antenor! would they had broke his neck!
+
+_Cres._ How now? what's the matter? Who was here?
+
+_Pand._ Oh, oh!
+
+_Cres._ Why sigh you so? O, where's my Troilus?
+Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
+
+_Pand._ Would I were as deep under the earth, as
+I am above it!
+
+_Cres._ O, the gods! What's the matter?
+
+_Pand._ Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou hadst never been born!
+I knew thou wouldst be his death; oh, poor gentleman!
+A plague upon Antenor!
+
+_Cres._ Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, tell me what's the
+matter?
+
+_Pand._ Thou must be gone, girl; thou must be gone, to the fugitive
+rogue-priest, thy father: (and he's my brother too; but that's all one
+at this time:) A pox upon Antenor!
+
+_Cres._ O, ye immortal gods! I will not go.
+
+_Pand._ Thou must, thou must.
+
+_Cres._ I will not: I have quite forgot my father.
+I have no touch of birth, no spark of nature,
+No kin, no blood, no life; nothing so near me,
+As my dear Troilus!
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Pand._ Here, here, here he comes, sweet duck!
+
+_Cres._ O, Troilus, Troilus!         [_They both weep over each other;
+                                      she running into his arms._
+
+_Pand._ What a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too. _Oh,
+heart,_--as the saying is,--
+    _--o heart, o heavy heart,
+    Why sigh'st thou without breaking!_
+Where he answers again,
+  _Because thou can'st not ease thy smart,
+    By friendship nor by speaking._
+There was never a truer rhyme: let us cast away nothing, for we may
+live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.--How now,
+lambs?
+
+_Troil._ Cressid, I love thee with so strange a purity,
+That the blest gods, angry with my devotions,
+More bright in zeal than that I pay their altars,
+Will take thee from my sight.
+
+_Cres._ Have the gods envy?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case!
+
+_Cres._ And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
+
+_Troil._ A hateful truth.
+
+_Cres._ What, and from Troilus too?
+
+_Troil._ From Troy and Troilus,--and suddenly;
+So suddenly, 'tis counted out by minutes.
+
+_Cres._ What, not an hour allowed for taking leave?
+
+_Troil._ Even that's bereft us too: Our envious fates
+Jostle betwixt, and part the dear adieus
+Of meeting lips, clasped hands, and locked embraces.
+
+_Æneas._ [_Within._] My lord, is the lady ready yet?
+
+_Troil._ Hark, you are called!--Some say, the genius so
+Cries,--Come, to him who instantly must die.
+
+_Pand._ Where are my tears? some rain to lay this wind,
+Or my heart will be blown up by the roots!
+
+_Troil._ Hear me, my love! be thou but true, like me.
+
+_Cres._ I true! how now, what wicked thought is this?
+
+_Troil._ Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
+For it is parting from us.
+I spoke not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
+But be thou true, I said, to introduce
+My following protestation,--be thou true,
+And I will see thee.
+
+_Cres._ You'll be exposed to dangers.
+
+_Troil._ I care not; but be true.
+
+_Cres._ Be true, again?
+
+_Troil._ Hear why I speak it, love.
+The Grecian youths are full of Grecian arts:
+Alas! a kind of holy jealousy,
+Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
+Makes me afraid how far you may be tempted.
+
+_Cres._ O heavens, you love me not!
+
+_Troil._ Die I a villain then!
+In this I do not call your faith in question,
+But my own merit.
+
+_Cres._ Fear not; I'll be true.
+
+_Troil._ Then, fate, thy worst! for I will see thee, love;
+Not all the Grecian host shall keep me out,
+Nor Troy, though walled with fire, should hold me in.
+
+_Æneas._ [_Within._] My lord, my lord Troilus! I must call you.
+
+_Pand._ A mischief call him! nothing but screech-owls? do, do, call
+again; you had best part them now in the sweetness of their
+love!--I'll be hanged if this Æneas be the son of Venus, for all his
+bragging. Honest Venus was a punk; would she have parted lovers? no,
+he has not a drop of Venus' blood in him--honest Venus was a punk.
+
+_Troil._ [_To Pand._] Pr'ythee, go out, and gain one minute more.
+
+_Pand._ Marry and I will: follow you your business; lose no time, 'tis
+very precious; go, bill again: I'll tell the rogue his own, I warrant
+him.                                                 [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Cres._ What have we gained by this one minute more?
+
+_Troil._ Only to wish another, and another,
+A longer struggling with the pangs of death.
+
+_Cres._ O, those, who do not know what parting is,
+Can never learn to die!
+
+_Troil._ When I but think this sight may be our last,
+If Jove could set me in the place of Atlas,
+And lay the weight of heaven and gods upon me,
+He could not press me more.
+
+_Cres._ Oh let me go, that I may know my grief;
+Grief is but guessed, while thou art standing by:
+But I too soon shall know what absence is.
+
+_Troil._ Why, 'tis to be no more; another name for death:
+'Tis the sun parting from the frozen north;
+And I, methinks, stand on some icy cliff,
+To watch the last low circles that he makes,
+'Till he sink down from heaven! O only Cressida,
+If thou depart from me, I cannot live:
+I have not soul enough to last for grief,
+But thou shalt hear what grief has done with me.
+
+_Cres._ If I could live to hear it, I were false.
+But, as a careful traveller, who, fearing
+Assaults of robbers, leaves his wealth behind,
+I trust my heart with thee; and to the Greeks
+Bear but an empty casket.
+
+_Troil._ Then I will live, that I may keep that treasure;
+And, armed with this assurance, let thee go,
+Loose, yet secure as is the gentle hawk,
+When, whistled off, she mounts into the wind.
+Our love's like mountains high above the clouds;
+Though winds and tempests beat their aged feet,
+Their peaceful heads nor storm nor thunder know,
+But scorn the threatening rack that rolls below.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS _standing in their tent._--ULYSSES
+  AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, NESTOR, _and_ AJAX, _passing over the stage._
+
+_Ulys._ Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:
+Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
+As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
+Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn:
+Pride must be cured by pride.
+
+_Agam._ We'll execute your purpose, and put on
+A form of strangeness as we pass along;
+So do each prince; either salute him not,
+Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more
+Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.
+
+_Achil._ What, comes the general to speak with me?
+You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.
+
+_Agam._ What says Achilles? would he aught with us?
+
+_Nest._ Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
+
+_Achil._ No.
+
+_Nest._ Nothing, my lord.
+
+_Agam._ The better.
+
+_Menel._ How do you, how do you?
+
+_Achil._ What, does the cuckold scorn me!
+
+_Ajax._ How now, Patroclus?
+
+_Achil._ Good morrow, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ Ha!
+
+_Achil._ Good morrow.
+
+_Ajax._ Ay; and good next day too.
+                           [_Exeunt all but_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Achil._ What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ They pass by strangely; they were used to bow,
+And send their smiles before them to Achilles;
+To come as humbly as they used to creep
+To holy altars.
+
+_Achil._ Am I poor of late?
+'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
+Must fall out with men too: what the declined is,
+He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
+As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
+Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.
+
+_Patro._ 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister,
+And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting
+Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you,
+A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
+Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,
+In time of action: I am condemned for this:
+They think my little appetite to war
+Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,
+And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;
+Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane,
+Be shaken into air.
+
+_Achil._ Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
+
+_Patro._ Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.
+
+_Achil._ I see my reputation is at stake.
+
+_Patro._ O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men
+Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.
+
+_Achil._ I'll do something;
+But what I know not yet.--No more; our champion.
+
+  _Re-enter_ AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE,
+  _Trumpet._
+
+_Agam._ Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax.
+Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,
+Thou noble champion, that the sounding air
+May pierce the ears of the great challenger,
+And call him hither.
+
+_Ajax._ Trumpet, take that purse:
+Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass;
+Thou blow'st for Hector.
+                       [_Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within._
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR, ÆNEAS, _and other Trojans._
+
+_Agam._ Yonder comes the troop.
+
+_Æn._ [_Coming to the Greeks._]
+Health to the Grecian lords:--What shall be done
+To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose
+A victor should be known? will you, the knights
+Shall to the edge of all extremity
+Pursue each other, or shall be divided
+By any voice or order of the field?
+Hector bade ask.
+
+_Agam._ Which way would Hector have it?
+
+_Æn._ He cares not, he'll obey conditions.
+
+_Achil._ 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done;
+A little proudly, and too much despising
+The knight opposed; he might have found his match.
+
+_Æn._ If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?
+
+_Achil._ If not Achilles, nothing.
+
+_Æn._ Therefore Achilles; but whoe'er, know this;
+Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but well,
+And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.
+This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,
+In love whereof half Hector stays at home.
+
+_Achil._ A maiden battle? I perceive you then.
+
+_Agam._ Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax;
+As you and lord Æneas shall consent,
+So let the fight proceed, or terminate.
+                      [_The trumpets sound on both sides, while_ ÆNEAS
+                       _and_ DIOMEDE _take their places, as Judges of
+                       the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank
+                       themselves on either side._
+
+_Ulys._ They are opposed already.
+                       [_Fight equal at first, then_ AJAX _has_ HECTOR
+                        _at disadvantage; at last_ HECTOR _closes,_
+                        AJAX _falls on one knee,_ HECTOR _stands over
+                        him, but strikes not, and_ AJAX _rises._
+
+_Æn._ [_Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them._]
+Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.
+
+_Diom._ And we, as judges of the field, declare,
+The combat here shall cease.
+
+_Ajax,_ I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
+
+_Æn._ Then let it be as Hector shall determine.
+
+_Hect._ If it be left to me, I will no more.--
+Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione's son;
+The obligation of our blood forbids us.
+But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so,
+That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all,
+And this is Trojan,--hence thou shouldst not bear
+One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword
+Had not impression made. But heaven forbid
+That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother,
+Should e'er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin.
+By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms:
+Hector would have them fall upon him thus:--               [_Embrace._
+Thine be the honour, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ I thank thee, Hector;
+Thou art too gentle, and too free a man.
+I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain
+A great addition from that glorious act:
+But thou hast quite disarmed me.
+
+_Hect._ I am glad;
+For 'tis the only way I could disarm thee.
+
+_Ajax._ If I might in intreaty find success,
+I would desire to see thee at my tent.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles;
+Both long to see the valiant Hector there.
+
+_Hect._ Æneas, call my brother Troilus to me;
+And you two sign this friendly interview.
+                                    [AGAMEMNON, _and the chief of both
+                                     sides approach._
+
+_Agam._ [_To HECT._]
+Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one,
+Who would be rid of such an enemy.--
+[_To_ TROIL.] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
+
+_Nest._ I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often,
+Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
+Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee
+As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed,
+And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives,
+When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,
+Not letting it decline on prostrate foes;
+That I have said to all the standers-by,
+Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.
+
+_Hect._ Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
+Who hast so long walked hand in hand with time:
+Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
+
+_Ulys._ I wonder now, how yonder city stands,
+When we have here her base and pillar by us.
+
+_Hect._ I know your count'nance, lord Ulysses, well.
+Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
+Since first I saw yourself and Diomede
+In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
+
+_Achil._ Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
+I have with exact view perused thee, Hector,
+And quoted joint by joint.
+
+_Hect._ Is this Achilles?
+
+_Achil._ I am Achilles.
+
+_Hect._ Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.
+
+_Achil._ Behold thy fill.
+
+_Hect._ Nay, I have done already.
+
+_Achil._ Thou art too brief. I will, the second time,
+As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
+
+_Hect._ O, like a book of sport, thou read'st me o'er;
+But there's more in me than thou understand'st.
+
+_Achil._ Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body
+Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there?
+That I may give the imagined wound a name,
+And make distinct the very breach, whereout
+Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!
+
+_Hect._ Wert thou an oracle to tell me this,
+I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well,
+I'll kill thee every where.
+Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast;
+His insolence draws folly from my lips;
+But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
+Else may I never--
+
+_Ajax._ Do not chafe thee, cousin;--
+And you, Achilles, let these threats alone;
+You may have every day enough of Hector,
+If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
+Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.
+
+_Hect._ I pray you, let us see you in the field;
+We have had pelting wars, since you refused
+The Grecian cause.
+
+_Achil._ Do'st thou entreat me, Hector?
+To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death;
+To-night, all peace.
+
+_Hect._ Thy hand upon that match.
+
+_Agam._ First, all you Grecian princes, go with me,
+And entertain great Hector; afterwards,
+As his own leisure shall concur with yours,
+You may invite him to your several tents.
+                              [_Exeunt_ AGAM. HECT. MENEL. NEST. DIOM.
+                               _together._
+
+_Troil._ My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
+In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?
+
+_Ulys._ At Menelaus' tent:
+There Diomede does feast with him to-night;
+Who neither looks on heaven or on earth,
+But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
+On Cressida alone.
+
+_Troil._ Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much,
+After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
+To bring me thither?
+
+_Ulys._ I shall wait on you.
+As freely tell me, of what honour was
+This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,
+Who mourn her absence?
+
+_Troil._ O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,
+Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;
+That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord.
+                                      [_Exeunt_ ULYSSES _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Achil._ [_To_ PATRO.]
+I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
+Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.
+Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Patro._ Here comes Thersites.
+
+_Achil._ How now, thou core of envy,
+Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot
+worshippers, there's a letter for thee.
+
+_Achil._ From whence, fragment?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
+
+_Patro._ Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?
+
+_Thers._ Because a fool's my whetstone.
+
+_Patro._ Meaning me?
+
+_Thers._ Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee, be silent, boy, I
+profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south,
+gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back,
+lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee
+again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a
+prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such
+water-flies, such diminutives of nature!
+
+_Achil._ My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented
+From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life.
+Here is a letter from my love Polyxena,
+Both taxing and engaging me to keep
+An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it
+To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay,
+There's more religion in my love than fame.
+                                   [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Thers._ With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are
+running mad before the dog-days. There's Agamemnon, too, an honest
+fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much
+brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there's a fellow!
+the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the
+primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother's
+tail,--to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring
+without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
+against destiny.--Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!
+
+  HECTOR, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, DIOMEDE, ULYSSES, TROILUS, _going with
+  Torches over the Stage._
+
+_Agam._ We go wrong, we go wrong.
+
+_Ajax._ No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the light.
+
+_Hect._ I trouble you.
+
+_Ajax._ Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES.
+
+_Achil._ Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.
+
+_Agam._ So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands
+the guard to wait on you.
+
+_Men._ Good night, my lord.
+
+_Hect._ Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet
+jakes!
+
+_Achil._ Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede,
+Keep Hector company an hour or two.
+
+_Diom._ I cannot, sir; I have important business.
+
+_Achil._ Enter, my lords.
+
+_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas's tent.
+                       [_Exeunt_ ACHIL. HECT. AJAX, _one way;_ DIOMEDE
+                        _another; and after him_ ULYSSES
+                        _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Thers._ This Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will
+no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent
+when he hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler
+the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a
+prodigy: though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him.
+They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas's tent, that
+fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side. I'll after
+him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals!
+                                                    [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+  _Enter_ CALCHAS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Calch._ O, what a blessing is a virtuous child!
+Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions
+Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy
+Revives within me, and my lost tiara
+No more disturbs my mind.
+
+_Cres._ A virtuous conquest!
+
+_Calch._ I have a woman's longing to return;
+But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.
+
+_Cres._ Time must instruct us how.
+
+_Calch._ You must dissemble love to Diomede still:
+False Diomede, bred in Ulysses' school,
+Can never be deceived,
+But by strong arts and blandishments of love.
+Put them in practice all; seem lost and won,
+And draw him on, and give him line again.
+This Argus then may close his hundred eyes,
+And leave our flight more easy.
+
+_Cres._ How can I answer this to love and Troilus?
+
+_Calch._ Why, 'tis for him you do it; promise largely;
+That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects
+Was given you by a lover; let him have it.
+
+_Diom._ [_Within._] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!
+
+_Calch._ Hark! I hear his voice.
+Pursue your project; doubt not the success.
+
+_Cres._ Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes,
+This night to meet my Troilus, while 'tis truce,
+Afford my mind some ease.
+
+_Calch._ No more: retire.                            [_Exit_ CRESSIDA.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE: TROILUS _and_ ULYSSES _appear listening at one
+  Door, and_ THERSITES _watching at another._
+
+_Diom._ I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.
+
+_Calch._ My lord, I'll call her to you.               [_Exit_ CALCHAS.
+
+_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Stand where the torch may not discover us.
+
+  _Enter_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Troil._ Cressida comes forth to him!
+
+_Diom._ How now, my charge?
+
+_Cres._ Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you.     [_Whisper._
+
+_Troil._ Ay, so familiar!
+
+_Diom._ Will you remember?
+
+_Cres._ Remember? yes.
+
+_Troil._ Heavens, what should she remember! Plague and madness!
+
+_Ulys._ Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time,
+Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
+To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
+The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.
+
+_Troil._ I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments, I will not
+speak a word.
+
+_Diom._ I'll hear no more: good night.
+
+_Cres._ Nay, but you part in anger!
+
+_Troil._ Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!
+
+_Diom._ Farewell, cozener.
+
+_Cres._ Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.
+
+_Ulys._ You shake, my lord, at something: will you go?
+You will break out.
+
+_Troil._ By all the gods I will not.
+There is, between my will and all my actions,
+A guard of patience: stay a little while.
+
+_Thers._ [_aside._] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and
+potato-finger, tickles these together!--Put him off a little, you
+foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen him the more.
+
+_Diom._ But will you then?
+
+_Cres._ I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded.
+
+_Diom_ Give me some token, for the surety of it;
+The ring I saw you wear.
+
+_Cres._ [_Giving it._] If you must have it.
+
+_Troil._ The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty, where's thy faith!
+
+_Ulys._ You have sworn patience.
+
+_Thers._ That's well, that's well, the pledge is given; hold her to
+her word, good devil, and her soul's thine, I warrant thee.
+
+_Diom._ Whose was't?
+
+_Cres._ By all Diana's waiting train of stars,
+And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
+
+_Diom._ Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever:
+Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.
+
+_Cres._ You shall not go: one cannot speak a word,
+But straight it starts you.
+
+_Diom._ I do not like this fooling.
+
+_Thers._ Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not you, pleases me
+best.
+
+_Diom._ I shall expect your promise.
+
+_Cres._ I'll perform it.
+Not a word more, good night--I hope for ever:
+Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud.                       [_Aside._
+                         [_Exeunt_ DIOMEDE _and_ CRESSIDA _severally._
+
+_Ulys._ All's done, my lord.
+
+_Troil_ Is it?
+
+_Ulys._ Pray let us go.
+
+_Troil._ Was Cressida here?
+
+_Ulys._ I cannot conjure, Trojan.
+
+_Troil._ She was not, sure! she was not;
+Let it not be believed, for womanhood:
+Think we had mothers, do not give advantage
+To biting satire, apt without a theme
+For defamation, to square all the sex
+By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida.
+
+_Thers._ Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?
+
+_Troil._ This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida.
+If beauty have a soul, this is not she:--
+I cannot speak for rage;--that ring was mine:--
+By heaven I gave it, in that point of time,
+When both our joys were fullest!--If he keeps it,
+Let dogs eat Troilus.
+
+_Thers._ He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will be sport to see!
+Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore; a
+parrot will not do more for an almond, than he will for a commodious
+drab:--I would I could meet with this rogue Diomede too: I would croak
+like a raven to him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find him
+out.                                                [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+  _Enter_ ÆNEAS.
+
+_Æn._ I have been seeking you this hour, my lord:
+Hector by this is arming him in Troy.
+
+_Ulys._ Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother:
+Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm;
+The fair Polyxena has, by a letter,
+Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage.
+
+_Troil._ This I shall say to Hector.
+
+_Ulys._ So I hope.
+Pray heaven Thersites have informed me true!--               [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ Good night, my lord; accept distracted thanks!
+                                                      [_Exit_ ULYSSES.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ Hear ye, my lord, hear ye; I have been seeing yon poor girl.
+There have been old doings there, i'faith.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._]
+Hold yet, my spirits: let him pour it in:
+The poison's kind: the more I drink of it,
+The sooner 'twill dispatch me.
+
+_Æn._ to _Pand._ Peace, thou babbler!
+
+_Pand._ She has been mightily made on by the Greeks: she takes most
+wonderfully among 'em. Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her:
+nay, and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed her with his
+whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon with his general's staff, diving
+with a low bow even to the ground, and rising again, just at her lips:
+and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and Menelaus: and they so pelted
+her, i'faith, pitter patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones.
+And after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman in Phrygia
+better kissed.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hector said true: I find, I find it now!
+
+_Pand._ And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely: that's a
+notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on
+upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among
+the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word.
+I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!
+
+_Pand._ And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated
+for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by
+the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and
+his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were
+a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little
+god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then
+was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed
+betwixt you two.
+
+_Troil._ O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all:
+False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk
+She sucked the infusion of her father's soul.
+She only wants an opportunity;
+Her soul's a whore already.
+
+_Pand._ What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little
+consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's
+absence.
+
+_Troil._ Hence from my sight!
+Let ignominy brand thy hated name;
+Let modest matrons at thy mention start;
+And blushing virgins, when they read our annals,
+Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend,
+And blots the noble work.
+
+_Pand._ O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus
+the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and
+trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's
+too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut
+up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage!
+                                                     [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE _and_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy
+part, jealousy, and twinge 'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and
+grind the rogues together.
+
+_Diom._ My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you,
+This hour must end the truce.
+
+_Æn._ to _Troil._ Contain yourself:
+Think where we are.
+
+_Diom._ Your stay will be unsafe.
+
+_Troil._ It may, for those I hate.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said, Trojan: there's the first hit.
+
+_Diom._ Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs call me another
+way.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] What affairs? what affairs? demand that,
+dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel, for want of wit to ask that
+question.
+
+_Troil._ May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said again; I beg thy pardon.
+
+_Diom._ Oh, it concerns you not.
+
+_Troil._ Perhaps it does.
+
+_Diom._ You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound
+To satisfy an enemy's request.
+
+_Troil._ You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede,
+And given you by a lady.
+
+_Diom._ If it were,
+'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle at one another:
+set up your bristles now, a'both sides: whet and foam, rogues.
+
+_Troil._ You must restore it, Greek, by heaven you must;
+No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand:
+And, with it, give me back the broken vows
+Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is,
+I never will resign, but with my soul.
+
+_Diom._ Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool,
+Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart,
+Repines in vain to see it better placed;
+But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee)
+Thou art so lost a thing in her esteem,
+I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed:
+Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals;
+Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks,
+And intermissive hours of cooler love,
+When hand in hand we went.
+
+_Troil._ Hell and furies!
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] O well stung, scorpion!
+Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors, there's a new cuckold
+starts up on the Trojan side.
+
+_Troil._ Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she,
+Who in my arms lay melting all the night;
+Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again,
+As if her soul flew upward to her lips,
+To meet mine there, and panted at the passage;
+Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out,
+And shrunk into my bosom, there to make
+A little longer darkness.
+
+_Diom._ Plagues and tortures!
+
+_Thers._ Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot;
+and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace
+now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore
+sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the foolish curs; they
+think they never can have enough of carrion.
+
+_Æn._ My lords, this fury is not proper here
+In time of truce; if either side be injured,
+To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then--
+
+_Troil._ And then! but why should I defer till then?
+My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors;
+My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must,
+It will have vent,--                                         [_Draws._
+
+_Diom._ Hinder us not, Æneas,
+My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour,
+And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.--             [_Draws._
+
+_Thers._ Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light
+enough to make their passes; and not enough to ward them.
+
+_Æn._ [_Drawing too._]
+By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first.
+You both are mad; is this like gallant men,
+To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour;
+When only guilt and rapine draw a sword?
+Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose;
+But let the sun behold the brave man's courage.
+And this I dare engage for Diomede,--
+For though I am,--he shall not hide his head,
+But meet you in the very face of danger.
+
+_Diom._ [_Putting up._]
+Be't so; and were it on some precipice,
+High as Olympus, and a sea beneath,
+Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point
+I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.
+
+_Troil._ A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men,
+As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this;
+Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge,
+I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames,
+To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.
+
+_Diom._ Where shall we meet?
+
+_Troil._ Before the tent of Calchas.
+Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way;
+And in the sight of perjured Cressida,
+Give death to her through thee.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis largely promised;
+But I disdain to answer with a boast.
+Be sure thou shalt be met.
+
+_Troil._ And thou be found.   [_Exeunt_ TROILUS _and_ ÆNEAS _one way;_
+                               DIOMEDE _the other._
+
+_Thers._ Now the furies take Æneas, for letting them sleep upon their
+quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise
+maukish to mischief upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees
+his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their
+sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake: let them be
+punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be
+first at the place of execution; let neither of them have cogitation
+enough, to consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them value
+their lives at as little as they are worth: and lastly, let no
+succeeding fools take warning by them; but, in imitation of them, when
+a strumpet is in question,
+  Let them beneath their feet all reason trample,
+  And think it great to perish by example.                    [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  HECTOR, _Trojans,_ ANDROMACHE.
+
+_Hect._ The blue mists rise from off the nether grounds,
+And the sun mounts apace. To arms, to arms!
+I am resolved to put to the utmost proof
+The fate of Troy this day.
+
+_Andr._ [_Aside._] Oh wretched woman, oh!
+
+_Hect._ Methought I heard you sigh, Andromache.
+
+_Andr._ Did you, my lord?
+
+_Hect._ Did you, my lord? you answer indirectly;
+Just when I said, that I would put our fate
+Upon the extremest proof, you fetched a groan;
+And, as you checked yourself for what you did,
+You stifled it and stopt. Come, you are sad.
+
+_Andr._ The gods forbid!
+
+_Hect._ What should the gods forbid?
+
+_Andr._ That I should give you cause of just offence.
+
+_Hect._ You say well; but you look not chearfully.
+I mean this day to waste the stock of war,
+And lay it prodigally out in blows.
+Come, gird my sword, and smile upon me, love;
+Like victory, come flying to my arms,
+And give me earnest of desired success.
+
+_Andr._ The gods protect you, and restore you to me!
+
+_Hect._ What, grown a coward! Thou wert used, Andromache,
+To give my courage courage; thou would'st cry,--
+Go Hector, day grows old, and part of fame
+Is ravished from thee by thy slothful stay.
+
+_Andr._ [_Aside._]
+What shall I do to seem the same I was?--
+Come, let me gird thy fortune to thy side,
+And conquest sit as close and sure as this.
+                          [_She goes to gird his sword, and it falls._
+Now mercy, heaven! the gods avert this omen!
+
+_Hect._ A foolish omen! take it up again,
+And mend thy error.
+
+_Andr._ I cannot, for my hand obeys me not;
+But, as in slumbers, when we fain would run
+From our imagined fears, our idle feet
+Grow to the ground, our struggling voice dies inward;
+So now, when I would force myself to chear you,
+My faltering tongue can give no glad presage:
+Alas, I am no more Andromache.
+
+_Hect._ Why then thy former soul is flown to me;
+For I, methinks, am lifted into air,
+As if my mind, mastering my mortal part,
+Would bear my exalted body to the gods.
+Last night I dreamt Jove sat on Ida's top,
+And, beckoning with his hand divine from far,
+He pointed to a choir of demi-gods,
+Bacchus and Hercules, and all the rest,
+Who, free from human toils, had gained the pitch
+Of blest eternity;--Lo there, he said,
+Lo there's a place for Hector.
+
+_Andr._ Be to thy enemies this boding dream!
+
+_Hect._ Why, it portends me honour and renown.
+
+_Andr._ Such honour as the brave gain after death;
+For I have dreamt all night of horrid slaughters,
+Of trampling horses, and of chariot wheels
+Wading in blood up to their axle-trees;
+Of fiery demons gliding down the skies,
+And Ilium brightened with a midnight blaze:
+O therefore, if thou lovest me, go not forth.
+
+_Hect._ Go to thy bed again, and there dream better.--
+Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
+
+_Andr._ No notes of sally, for the heaven's sweet sake!
+'Tis not for nothing when my spirits droop;
+This is a day when thy ill stars are strong,
+When they have driven thy helpless genius down
+The steep of heaven, to some obscure retreat.
+
+_Hect._ No more; even as thou lovest my fame, no more;
+My honour stands engaged to meet Achilles.
+What will the Grecians think, or what will he,
+Or what will Troy, or what wilt thou thyself,
+When once this ague fit of fear is o'er,
+If I should lose my honour for a dream?
+
+_Andr._ Your enemies too well your courage know,
+And heaven abhors the forfeit of rash vows,
+Like spotted livers in a sacrifice.
+I cannot, O I dare not let you go;
+For, when you leave me, my presaging mind
+Says, I shall never, never see you more.
+
+_Hect._ Thou excellently good, but oh too soft,
+Let me not 'scape the danger of this day;
+But I have struggling in my manly soul,
+To see those modest tears, ashamed to fall,
+And witness any part of woman in thee!
+And now I fear, lest thou shouldst think it fear,
+If, thus dissuaded, I refuse to fight,
+And stay inglorious in thy arms at home.
+
+_Andr._ Oh, could I have that thought, I should not love thee;
+Thy soul is proof to all things but to kindness;
+And therefore 'twas that I forbore to tell thee,
+How mad Cassandra, full of prophecy,
+Ran round the streets, and, like a Bacchanal,
+Cried,--Hold him, Priam, 'tis an ominous day;
+Let him not go, for Hector is no more.
+
+_Hect._ Our life is short, but to extend that span
+To vast eternity, is virtue's work;
+Therefore to thee, and not to fear of fate,
+Which once must come to all, give I this day.
+But see thou move no more the like request;
+For rest assured, that, to regain this hour,
+To-morrow will I tempt a double danger.
+Mean time, let destiny attend thy leisure;
+I reckon this one day a blank of life.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Where are you, brother? now, in honour's name,
+What do you mean to be thus long unarmed?
+The embattled soldiers throng about the gates;
+The matrons to the turrets' tops ascend,
+Holding their helpless children in their arms,
+To make you early known to their young eyes,
+And Hector is the universal shout.
+
+_Hect._ Bid all unarm; I will not fight to-day.
+
+_Troil._ Employ some coward to bear back this news,
+And let the children hoot him for his pains.
+By all the gods, and by my just revenge,
+This sun shall shine the last for them or us;
+These noisy streets, or yonder echoing plains,
+Shall be to-morrow silent as the grave.
+
+_Andr._ O brother, do not urge a brother's fate,
+But, let this wreck of heaven and earth roll o'er,
+And, when the storm is past, put out to sea.
+
+_Troil._ O now I know from whence his change proceeds;
+Some frantic augur has observed the skies;
+Some victim wants a heart, or crow flies wrong.
+By heaven, 'twas never well, since saucy priests
+Grew to be masters of the listening herd,
+And into mitres cleft the regal crown;
+Then, as the earth were scanty for their power,
+They drew the pomp of heaven to wait on them.
+Shall I go publish, Hector dares not fight,
+Because a madman dreamt he talked with Jove?
+What could the god see in a brain-sick priest,
+That he should sooner talk to him than me?
+
+_Hect._ You know my name's not liable to fear.
+
+_Troil._ Yes, to the worst of fear,--to superstition.
+But whether that, or fondness of a wife,
+(The more unpardonable ill) has seized you,
+Know this, the Grecians think you fear Achilles,
+And that Polyxena has begged your life.
+
+_Hect._ How! that my life is begged, and by my sister?
+
+_Troil._ Ulysses so informed me at our parting,
+With a malicious and disdainful smile:
+'Tis true, he said not, in broad words, you feared;
+But in well-mannered terms 'twas so agreed,
+Achilles should avoid to meet with Hector.
+
+_Hect._ He thinks my sister's treason my petition;
+That, largely vaunting, in my heat of blood,
+More than I could, it seems, or durst perform,
+I sought evasion.
+
+_Troil._ And in private prayed--
+
+_Hect._ O yes, Polyxena to beg my life.
+
+_Andr._ He cannot think so;--do not urge him thus.
+
+_Hect._ Not urge me! then thou think'st I need his urging.
+By all the gods, should Jove himself descend,
+And tell me,--Hector, thou deservest not life,
+But take it as a boon,--I would not live.
+But that a mortal man, and he, of all men,
+Should think my life were in his power to give,
+I will not rest, till, prostrate on the ground,
+I make him, atheist-like, implore his breath
+Of me, and not of heaven.
+
+_Troil._ Then you'll refuse no more to fight?
+
+_Hect._ Refuse! I'll not be hindered, brother.
+I'll through and through them, even their hindmost ranks,
+Till I have found that large-sized boasting fool,
+Who dares presume my life is in his gift.
+
+_Andr._ Farewell, farewell; 'tis vain to strive with fate!
+Cassandra's raging god inspires my breast
+With truths that must be told, and not believed.
+Look how he dies! look how his eyes turn pale!
+Look how his blood bursts out at many vents!
+Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out,
+And widowed I fill all the streets with screams!
+Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement,
+Like antiques meet, and tumble upon heaps!
+And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! Oh Hector!                [_Exit._
+
+_Hect._ What sport will be, when we return at evening,
+To laugh her out of countenance for her dreams!
+
+_Troil._ I have not quenched my eyes with dewy sleep this night;
+But fiery fumes mount upward to my brains,
+And, when I breathe, methinks my nostrils hiss!
+I shall turn basilisk, and with my sight
+Do my hands' work on Diomede this day.
+
+_Hect._ To arms, to arms! the vanguards are engaged
+Let us not leave one man to guard the walls;
+Both old and young, the coward and the brave,
+Be summoned all, our utmost fate to try,
+And as one body move, whose soul am I.                      [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II--_The Camp._
+
+  _Alarm within. Enter_ AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, _Soldiers._
+
+_Agam._ Thus far the promise of the day is fair.
+Æneas rather loses ground than gains.
+I saw him over-laboured, taking breath,
+And leaning on his spear, behold our trenches,
+Like a fierce lion looking up to toils,
+Which yet he durst not leap.
+
+_Ulys._ And therefore distant death does all the work;
+The flights of whistling darts make brown the sky,
+Whose clashing points strike fire, and gild the dusk;
+Those, that reach home, from neither host are vain,
+So thick the prease; so lusty are their arms,
+That death seemed never sent with better will.
+Nor was with less concernment entertained.
+
+  _Enter_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Now, Nestor, what's the news?
+
+_Nest._ I have descried
+A cloud of dust, that mounts in pillars upwards,
+Expanding as it travels to our camp;
+And from the midst I heard a bursting shout,
+That rent the heaven; as if all Troy were swarmed.
+And on the wing this way.
+
+_Menel._ Let them come, let them come.
+
+_Agam._ Where's great Achilles?
+
+_Ulys._ Think not on Achilles,
+Till Hector drag him from his tent to fight;
+Which sure he will, for I have laid the train.
+
+_Nest._ But young Patroclus leads his Myrmidons,
+And in their front, even in the face of Hector,
+Resolves to dare the Trojans.
+
+_Agam._ Haste, Ulysses, bid Ajax issue forth and second him.
+
+_Ulys._ Oh noble general, let it not be so.
+Oppose not rage, while rage is in its force,
+But give it way awhile, and let it waste.
+The rising deluge is not stopt with dams;
+Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hopes of harvest;
+But, wisely managed, its divided strength
+Is sluiced in channels, and securely drained.
+First, let small parties dally with their fury;
+But when their force is spent and unsupplied,
+The residue with mounds may be restrained,
+And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ Ho, ho, ho!
+
+_Menel._ Why dost thou laugh, unseasonable fool?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou fool in season, cannot a man laugh, but thou
+thinkest he makes horns at thee? Thou prince of the herd, what hast
+thou to do with laughing? 'Tis the prerogative of a man, to laugh.
+Thou risibility without reason, thou subject of laughter, thou fool
+royal!
+
+_Ulys._ But tell us the occasion of thy mirth?
+
+_Thers._ Now a man asks me, I care not if I answer to my own
+kind.--Why, the enemies are broken into our trenches; fools like
+Menelaus fall by thousands yet not a human soul departs on either
+side. Troilus and Ajax have almost beaten one another's heads off, but
+are both immortal for want of brains. Patroclus has killed Sarpedon,
+and Hector Patroclus, so there is a towardly springing fop gone off;
+he might have made a prince one day, but now he's nipt in the very bud
+and promise of a most prodigious coxcomb.
+
+_Agam._ Bear off Patroclus' body to Achilles;
+Revenge will arm him now, and bring us aid.
+The alarm sounds near, and shouts are driven upon us,
+As of a crowd confused in their retreat.
+
+_Ulys._ Open your ranks, and make these madmen way,
+Then close again to charge upon their backs,
+And quite consume the relics of the war.  [_Exeunt all but_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ What shoals of fools one battle sweeps away! How it purges
+families of younger brothers, highways of robbers, and cities of
+cuckold-makers! There is nothing like a pitched battle for these brisk
+addle-heads! Your physician is a pretty fellow, but his fees make him
+tedious, he rides not fast enough; the fools grow upon him, and their
+horse bodies are poison proof. Your pestilence is a quicker remedy,
+but it has not the grace to make distinction; it huddles up honest men
+and rogues together. But your battle has discretion; it picks out all
+the forward fools, and sowses them together into immortality. [_Shouts
+and alarms within_] Plague upon these drums and trumpets! these sharp
+sauces of the war, to get fools an appetite to fighting! What do I
+among them? I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass, and die a martyr
+in a wrong religion.     [_Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by
+                          Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon_
+                          THERSITES _who is flying too._
+
+_Troj._ Turn, slave, and fight.
+
+_Thers._ [_turning._] What art thou?
+
+_Troj._ A bastard son of Priam's.
+
+_Thers._ I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am bastard in body,
+bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. A
+bear will not fasten upon a bear; why should one bastard offend
+another! Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and have the fear
+of our mothers before our eyes.
+
+_Troj._ The devil take thee, coward.                     [_Exit Troj._
+
+_Thers._ Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable! These
+gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never
+feel it.            [_Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each
+                     way, and meets the noise._
+A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now would I were that blockhead
+Ajax for a minute. Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long
+pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have
+nobody left to laugh at them. Now destruction! now destruction!
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR _and_ TROILUS _driving in the Greeks._
+
+_Hect._ to _Thers._ Speak what part thou fightest on!
+
+_Thers._ I fight not at all; I am for neither side.
+
+_Hect._ Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?
+Art thou of blood and honour?
+
+_Thers._ No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy
+rogue.
+
+_Hect._ I do believe thee; live.
+
+_Thers._ God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but the devil break
+thy neck for frighting me.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ (_returning._) What prisoner have you there?
+
+_Hect._ A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.
+
+_Troil._ Dispatch him, and away.                 [_Going to kill him._
+
+_Thers._ Hold, hold!--what, is it no more but dispatch a man and away!
+I am in no such haste: I will not die for Greece; I hate Greece, and
+by my good will would never have been born there; I was mistaken into
+that country, and betrayed by my parents to be born there. And
+besides, I have a mortal enemy among the Grecians, one Diomede, a
+damned villain, and cannot die with a safe conscience till I have
+first murdered him.
+
+_Troil._ Shew me that Diomede, and thou shalt live.
+
+_Thers._ Come along with me, and I will conduct thee to Calchas's
+tent, where I believe he is now, making war with the priest's
+daughter.
+
+_Hect._ Here we must part, our destinies divide us;
+Brother and friend, farewell.
+
+_Troil._ When shall we meet?
+
+_Hect._ When the gods please; if not, we once must part.
+Look; on yon hill their squandered troops unite.
+
+_Troil._ If I mistake not, 'tis their last reserve:
+The storm's blown o'er, and those but after-drops.
+
+_Hect._ I wish our men be not too far engaged;
+For few we are and spent, as having born
+The burthen of the day: But, hap what can,
+They shall be charged; Achilles must be there,
+And him I seek, or death.
+Divide our troops, and take the fresher half.
+
+_Troil._ O brother!
+
+_Hect._ No dispute of ceremony:
+These are enow for me, in faith enow.
+Their bodies shall not flag while I can lead;
+Nor wearied limbs confess mortality,
+Before those ants, that blacken all yon hill,
+Are crept into the earth. Farewell.                      [_Exit_ HECT.
+
+_Troil._ Farewell.--Come, Greek.
+
+_Thers._ Now these rival rogues will clapperclaw one another, and I
+shall have the sport of it.               [_Exit_ TROIL. _with_ THERS.
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES _and Myrmidons._
+
+_Achill._ Which way went Hector?
+
+_Myrmid._ Up yon sandy hill;
+You may discern them by their smoking track:
+A wavering body working with bent hams
+Against the rising, spent with painful march,
+And by loose footing cast on heaps together.
+
+_Achil._ O thou art gone, thou sweetest, best of friends!
+Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war,
+Ere yet the tender nerves had strung thy limbs,
+And knotted into strength! Yet, though too late,
+I will, I will revenge thee, my Patroclus!
+Nor shall thy ghost thy murderers long attend,
+But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back,
+Ere thou art wafted to the farther shore.--
+Make haste, my soldiers; give me this day's pains
+For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine,
+Till Hector breathless on the ground we lay!
+Revenge is honour, the securest way.                [_Exit with Myrm._
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES, TROILUS, _Trojans._
+
+_Thers._ That's Calchas's tent.
+
+_Troil._ Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood,
+Than all the sun sees in his race beside.
+That I should trust the daughter of a priest!
+Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven!
+Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings
+And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!
+
+_Thers._ Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals;
+Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice,
+And keeps the best for private luxury.
+
+_Troil._ Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests.
+Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful:
+That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful:
+Live; thou art honest, for thou hat'st a priest.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with life, as I
+hope, and thou art knocked on the head, as I hope too, I shall be the
+first that ever escaped the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and
+thou wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will bring to
+ruin.                                                    [_Exit_ THER.
+
+_Troil._ Methinks, my soul is roused to her last work;
+Has much to do, and little time to spare.
+She starts within me, like a traveller,
+Who sluggishly outslept his morning hour,
+And mends his pace to reach his inn betimes.
+                                      [_Noise within,_ Follow, follow!
+A noise of arms! the traitor may be there;
+Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of love,
+The tent, may hold him; yet I dare not search,
+For oh, I fear to find him in that place.             [_Exit_ TROILUS.
+
+  _Enter_ CALCHAS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Cres._ Where is he? I'll be justified, or die.
+
+_Calch._ So quickly vanished! he was here but now.
+He must be gone to search for Diomede;
+For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.
+
+_Cres._ Alas!
+
+_Calch._ You must prevent, and not complain.
+
+_Cres._ If Troilus die, I have no share in life.
+
+_Calch._ If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus
+We lose not only a protector here,
+But are debarred all future means of flight.
+
+_Cres._ What then remains?
+
+_Calch._ To interpose betimes
+Betwixt their swords; or, if that cannot be,
+To intercede for him, who shall be vanquished.
+Fate leaves no middle course.                         [_Exit_ CALCHAS.
+
+  _Clashing within._
+
+_Cres._ Ah me! I hear them,
+And fear 'tis past prevention.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE, _retiring before_ TROILUS, _and falling as he
+  enters._
+
+_Troil._ Now beg thy life, or die.
+
+_Diom._ No; use thy fortune:
+I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.
+
+_Troil._ Scorn'st thou my mercy, villain!--Take thy wish.--
+
+_Cres._ Hold, hold your hand, my lord, and hear me speak.
+                  [TROILUS _turns back; in which time_ DIOMEDE _rises,
+                   Trojans and Greeks enter, and rank themselves on
+                   both sides of their Captains._
+
+_Troil._ Did I not hear the voice of perjured Cressida?
+Com'st thou to give the last stab to my heart?
+As if the proofs of all thy former falsehood
+Were not enough convincing, com'st thou now
+To beg my rival's life?
+Whom, oh, if any spark of truth remained,
+Thou couldst not thus, even to my face, prefer.
+
+_Cres._ What shall I say!--that you suspect me false,
+Has struck me dumb! but let him live, my Troilus;
+By all our loves, by all our past endearments,
+I do adjure thee, spare him.
+
+_Troil._ Hell and death!
+
+_Cres._ If ever I had power to bend your mind,
+Believe me still your faithful Cressida;
+And though my innocence appear like guilt,
+Because I make his forfeit life my suit,
+'Tis but for this, that my return to you
+Would be cut off for ever by his death;
+My father, treated like a slave, and scorned;
+Myself in hated bonds a captive held.
+
+_Troil._ Could I believe thee, could I think thee true,
+In triumph would I bear thee back to Troy,
+Though Greece could rally all her shattered troops,
+And stand embattled to oppose my way.
+But, oh, thou syren, I will stop my ears
+To thy enchanting notes; the winds shall bear
+Upon their wings thy words, more light than they.
+
+_Cres._ Alas! I but dissembled love to him.
+If ever he had any proof, beyond
+What modesty might give--
+
+_Diom._ No! witness this.--                         [_The Ring shewn._
+There, take her, Trojan, thou deserv'st her best;
+You good, kind-natured, well-believing fools,
+Are treasures to a woman.
+I was a jealous, hard, vexatious lover,
+And doubted even this pledge,--till full possession;
+But she was honourable to her word,
+And I have no just reason to complain.
+
+_Cres._ O unexampled, frontless impudence!
+
+_Troil._ Hell, show me such another tortured wretch as Troilus!
+
+_Diom._ Nay, grieve not; I resign her freely up;
+I'm satisfied; and dare engage for Cressida,
+That, if you have a promise of her person,
+She shall be willing to come out of debt.
+
+_Cres._ [_Kneeling._]
+My only lord, by all those holy vows,
+Which, if there be a Power above, are binding,
+Or, if there be a hell below, are fearful,
+May every imprecation, which your rage
+Can wish on me, take place, if I am false!
+
+_Diom._ Nay, since you're so concerned to be believed,
+I'm sorry I have pressed my charge so far:
+Be what you would be thought; I can be grateful.
+
+_Troil._ Grateful! Oh torment! now hell's bluest flames
+Receive her quick, with all her crimes upon her!
+Let her sink spotted down! let the dark host
+Make room, and point, and hiss her as she goes!
+Let the most branded ghosts of all her sex
+Rejoice, and cry,--"Here comes a blacker fiend!"
+Let her--
+
+_Cres._ Enough, my lord; you've said enough.
+This faithless, perjured, hated Cressida,
+Shall be no more the subject of your curses:
+Some few hours hence, and grief had done your work;
+But then your eyes had missed the satisfaction,
+Which thus I give you,--thus--
+                           [_She stabs herself; they both run to her._
+
+_Diom._ Help! save her, help!
+
+_Cres._ Stand off, and touch me not, thou traitor Diomede;--
+But you, my only Troilus, come near:
+Trust me, the wound, which I have given this breast,
+Is far less painful than the wound you gave it.
+Oh, can you yet believe, that I am true?
+
+_Troil._ This were too much, even if thou hadst been false!
+But oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,--
+For such I know thee now, too late I know it!--
+May all my curses, and ten thousand more,
+Heavier than they, fall back upon my head;
+Pelion and Ossa, from the giants' graves
+Be torn by some avenging deity,
+And hurled at me, a bolder wretch than they,
+Who durst invade the skies!
+
+_Cres._ Hear him not, heavens;
+But hear me bless him with my latest breath!
+And, since I question not your hard decree,
+That doomed my days unfortunate and few,
+Add all to him you take away from me;
+And I die happy, that he thinks me true.                      [_Dies._
+
+_Troil._ She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying!
+Could she have cursed me worse! she died for me,
+And, like a woman, I lament for her.
+Distraction pulls me several ways at once:
+Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes,
+Despair then turns me back upon myself,
+And bids me seek no more, but finish here.
+                                    [_Points his Sword to his Breast._
+Ha, smilest thou, traitor! thou instruct'st me best,
+And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.
+
+_Diom._ Thy worst, for mine has been beforehand with thee;
+I triumph in thy vain credulity,
+Which levels thy despairing state to mine;
+But yet thy folly, to believe a foe,
+Makes thine the sharper and more shameful loss.
+
+_Troil._ By my few moments of remaining life,
+I did not hope for any future joy;
+But thou hast given me pleasure ere I die,
+To punish such a villain.--Fight apart;            [_To his Soldiers._
+For heaven and hell have marked him out for me,
+And I should grudge even his least drop of blood
+To any other hand.    [TROILUS _and_ DIOMEDE _fight, and both Parties
+                       engage at the same time. The Trojans make
+                       the Greeks retire, and_ TROILUS _makes_ DIOMEDE
+                       _give ground, and hurts him. Trumpets
+                       sound._ ACHILLES _enters with his Myrmidons,
+                       on the backs of the Trojans, who fight in a
+                       ring, encompassed round._ TROILUS, _singling_
+                       DIOMEDE, _gets him down, and kills him; and_
+                       ACHILLES _kills_ TROILUS _upon him. All the
+                       Trojans die upon the place,_ TROILUS _last._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, AJAX, _and
+  Attendants._
+
+_Achil._ Our toils are done, and those aspiring walls,
+The work of gods, and almost mating heaven,
+Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.
+
+_Agam._ When mighty Hector fell beneath thy sword,
+Their old foundations shook; their nodding towers
+Threatened from high the amazed inhabitants;
+And guardian-gods, for fear, forsook their fanes.
+
+_Achil._ Patroclus, now be quiet; Hector's dead;
+And, as a second offering to thy ghost,
+Lies Troilus high upon a heap of slain;
+And noble Diomede beneath, whose death
+This hand of mine revenged.
+
+_Ajax._ Revenged it basely:
+For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest,
+And so fell Hector; but 'tis vain to talk.
+
+_Ulys._ Hail, Agamemnon! truly victor now!
+While secret envy, and while open pride,
+Among thy factious nobles discord threw;
+While public good was urged for private ends,
+And those thought patriots, who disturbed it most;
+Then, like the headstrong horses of the sun,
+That light, which should have cheered the world, consumed it:
+Now peaceful order has resumed the reins,
+Old Time looks young, and Nature seems renewed.
+  Then, since from home-bred factions ruin springs,
+  Let subjects learn obedience to their kings.              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE,
+
+                         SPOKEN BY THERSITES.
+
+
+  These cruel critics put me into passion;
+  For, in their lowering looks I read damnation:
+  You expect a satire, and I seldom fail;
+  When I'm first beaten, 'tis my part to rail.
+  You British fools, of the old Trojan stock,
+  That stand so thick, one cannot miss the flock,
+  Poets have cause to dread a keeping pit,
+  When women's cullies come to judge of wit.
+  As we strew rat's-bane when we vermin fear,
+  'Twere worth our cost to scatter fool-bane here;
+  And, after all our judging fops were served,
+  Dull poets, too, should have a dose reserved;
+  Such reprobates, as, past all sense of shaming,
+  Write on, and ne'er are satisfied with damning:
+  Next, those, to whom the stage does not belong,
+  Such whose vocation only is--to song;
+  At most to prologue, when, for want of time,
+  Poets take in for journey-work in rhime.
+  But I want curses for those mighty shoals
+  Of scribbling Chloris's, and Phyllis' fools:
+  Those oafs should be restrained, during their lives,
+  From pen and ink, as madmen are from knives.
+  I could rail on, but 'twere a task as vain,
+  As preaching truth at Rome, or wit in Spain:
+  Yet, to huff out our play was worth my trying;
+  John Lilburn 'scaped his judges by defying:[1]
+  If guilty, yet I'm sure o' the church's blessing,
+  By suffering for the plot, without confessing.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Lilburn, the most turbulent, but the boldest and most upright of
+   men, had the merit of defying and resisting the tyranny of the
+   king, of the parliament, and of the protector. He was convicted in
+   the star-chamber, but liberated by the parliament; he was tried on
+   the parliamentary statute for treasons in 1651, and before
+   Cromwell's high court of justice in 1654; and notwithstanding an
+   audacious defence,--which to some has been more perilous than a
+   feeble cause,--he was, in both cases, triumphantly acquitted.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            SPANISH FRIAR;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                        THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY.
+
+
+               _Ut melius possis fallere, sume togam._
+                                   --MART.
+
+
+             _--Alterna revisens
+             Lasit, et in solido rursus fortuna locavit._
+                                   --VIRG.
+
+
+
+
+                          THE SPANISH FRIAR.
+
+
+The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery, is one of the best and
+most popular of our poet's dramatic efforts. The plot is, as Johnson
+remarks, particularly happy, for the coincidence and coalition of the
+tragic and comic plots. The grounds for this eminent critic's encomium
+will be found to lie more deep than appears at first sight. It was,
+indeed, a sufficiently obvious connection, to make the gay Lorenzo an
+officer of the conquering army, and attached to the person of
+Torrismond. This expedient could hardly have escaped the invention of
+the most vulgar playwright, that ever dovetailed tragedy and comedy
+together. The felicity of Dryden's plot, therefore, does not consist
+in the ingenuity of his original conception, but in the minutely
+artificial strokes, by which the reader is perpetually reminded of the
+dependence of the one part of the play on the other. These are so
+frequent, and appear so very natural, that the comic plot, instead of
+diverting our attention from the tragic business, recals it to our
+mind by constant and unaffected allusion. No great event happens in
+the higher region of the camp or court, that has not some indirect
+influence upon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and the part which
+the gallant is called upon to act in the revolution that winds up the
+tragic interest, while it is highly in character, serves to bring the
+catastrophe of both parts of the play under the eye of the spectator,
+at one and the same time. Thus much seemed necessary to explain the
+felicity of combination, upon which Dryden justly valued himself, and
+which Johnson sanctioned by his high commendation. But, although
+artfully conjoined, the different departments of this tragi-comedy are
+separate subjects of critical remark.
+
+The comic part of the Spanish Friar, as it gives the first title to
+the play, seems to claim our first attention. Indeed, some precedence
+is due to it in another point of view; for, though the tragic scenes
+may be matched in All for Love, Don Sebastian, and else where, the
+Spanish Friar contains by far the most happy of Dryden's comic
+effusions. It has, comparatively speaking, this high claim to
+commendation, that, although the intrigue is licentious, according to
+the invariable licence of the age, the language is, in general, free
+from the extreme and disgusting coarseness, which our author too
+frequently mistook for wit, or was contented to substitute in its
+stead. The liveliness and even brilliancy of the dialogue, shows that
+Dryden, from the stores of his imagination, could, when he pleased,
+command that essential requisite of comedy; and that, if he has seldom
+succeeded, it was only because he mistook the road, or felt difficulty
+in travelling it. The character of Dominic is of that broadly
+ludicrous nature, which was proper to the old comedy. It would be
+difficult to show an ordinary conception more fully brought out. He
+is, like Falstaff, a compound of sensuality and talent, finely varied
+by the professional traits with which it suited the author's purpose
+to adorn his character. Such an addition was, it is true, more comic
+than liberal; but Dryden, whose constant dislike to the clerical order
+glances out in many of his performances, was not likely to be
+scrupulous, when called upon to pourtray one of their members in his
+very worst colours. To counterbalance the Friar's scandalous
+propensities of every sort, and to render him an object of laughter,
+rather than abhorrence, the author has gifted this reprobate churchman
+with a large portion of wit; by means of which, and by a ready
+presence of mind, always indicative of energy, he preserves an
+ascendence over the other characters, and escapes detection and
+disgrace, until poetical justice, and the conclusion of the play,
+called for his punishment. We have a natural indulgence for an amusing
+libertine; and, I believe, that, as most readers commiserate the
+disgrace of Falstaff, a few may be found to wish that Dominic's
+penance had been of a nature more decent and more theatrical than the
+poet has assigned him[1]. From the dedication, as well as the
+prologue, it appears that Dryden, however contrary to his sentiments
+at a future period, was, at present, among those who held up to
+contempt and execration the character of the Roman catholic
+priesthood. By one anonymous lampoon, this is ascribed to a temporary
+desertion of the court party, in resentment for the loss, or
+discontinuance of his pension. This allowance, during the pressure
+upon the Exchequer, was, at least, irregularly paid, of which Dryden
+repeatedly complains, and particularly in a letter to the Earl of
+Rochester. But the hardship was owing entirely to the poverty of the
+public purse; and, when the anonymous libeller affirms, that Dryden's
+pension was withdrawn, on account of his share in the Essay on Satire,
+he only shows that his veracity is on a level with his poverty[2]. The
+truth seems to be, that Dryden partook in some degree of the general
+ferment which the discovery of the Popish Plot had excited; and we may
+easily suppose him to have done so without any impeachment to his
+monarchial tenets, since North himself admits, that at the first
+opening of the plot, the chiefs of the loyal party joined in the cry.
+Indeed, that mysterious transaction had been investigated by none more
+warmly than by Danby, the king's favourite minister, and a high
+favourer of the prerogative. Even when writing Absalom and Achitophel,
+our author by no means avows an absolute disbelief of the whole plot,
+while condemning the extraordinary exaggerations, by which it had been
+rendered the means of much bloodshed and persecution[3]. It seems,
+therefore, fair to believe, that, without either betraying or
+disguising his own principles, he chose, as a popular subject for the
+drama, an attack upon an obnoxious priesthood, whom he, in common with
+all the nation, believed to have been engaged in the darkest intrigues
+against the king and government. I am afraid that this task was the
+more pleasing, from that prejudice against the clergy, of all
+countries and religions, which, as already noticed, our author
+displays, in common with other wits of that licentious age[4]. The
+character of the Spanish Friar was not, however, forgotten, when
+Dryden became a convert to the Roman Catholic persuasion; and, in many
+instances, as well as in that just quoted, it was assumed as the means
+of fixing upon him a charge of inconsistency in politics, and
+versatility in religion[5].
+
+The tragic part of the "Spanish Friar" has uncommon merit. The opening
+of the Drama, and the picture of a besieged town in the last
+extremity, is deeply impressive, while the description of the noise of
+the night attack, and the gradual manner in which the intelligence of
+its success is communicated, arrests the attention, and prepares
+expectation for the appearance of the hero, with all the splendour
+which ought to attend the principal character in tragedy. The
+subsequent progress of the plot is liable to a capital objection, from
+the facility with which the queen, amiable and virtuous, as we are
+bound to suppose her, consents to the murder of the old dethroned
+monarch. We question if the operation of any motive, however powerful,
+could have been pleaded with propriety, in apology for a breach of
+theatrical decorum, so gross, and so unnatural. But, in fact, the
+queen is only actuated by a sort of reflected ambition, a desire to
+secure to her lover a crown, which she thought in danger; but which,
+according to her own statement, she only valued on his account. This
+is surely too remote and indirect a motive, to urge a female to so
+horrid a crime. There is also something vilely cold-hearted, in her
+attempt to turn the guilt and consequences of her own crime upon
+Bertran, who, whatever faults he might have to others, was to the
+queen no otherwise obnoxious, than because the victim of her own
+inconstancy. The gallant, virtuous, and enthusiastic character of
+Torrismond, must be allowed, in some measure, to counterbalance that
+of his mistress, however unhappily he has placed his affections. But
+the real excellence of these scenes consists less in peculiarity of
+character, than in the vivacity and power of the language, which,
+seldom sinking into vulgarity, or rising into bombast, maintains the
+mixture of force and dignity, best adapted to the expression of tragic
+passion. Upon the whole, as the comic part of this play is our
+author's master-piece in comedy, the tragic plot may be ranked with
+his very best efforts of that kind, whether in "Don Sebastian," or
+"All for Love."
+
+The "Spanish Friar" appears to have been brought out shortly after Mr
+Thynne's murder, which is alluded to in the Prologue, probably early
+in 1681-2. The whimsical caricature, which it presented to the public,
+in Father Dominic, was received with rapture by the prejudiced
+spectators, who thought nothing could be exaggerated in the character
+of a Roman Catholic priest. Yet, the satire was still more severe in
+the first edition, and afterwards considerably softened[6]. It was, as
+Dryden himself calls it, a Protestant play; and certainly, as Jeremy
+Collier somewhere says, was rare Protestant diversion, and much for
+the credit of the Reformation. Accordingly, the "Spanish Friar" was
+the only play prohibited by James II. after his accession; an
+interdict, which may be easily believed no way disagreeable to the
+author, now a convert to the Roman church. It is very remarkable,
+that, after the Revolution, it was the first play represented by order
+of queen Mary, and honoured with her presence; a choice, of which she
+had abundant reason to repent, as the serious part of the piece gave
+as much scope for malicious application against herself, as the comic
+against the religion of her father[7].
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Collier remarks the injustice of punishing the agent of Lorenzo's
+   vice, while he was himself brought off with flying colours. He
+   observes, "'Tis not the fault which is corrected, but the priest.
+   The author's discipline is seldom without a bias. He commonly gives
+   the laity the pleasure of an ill action, and the clergy the
+   punishment." _View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the Stage_,
+   p. 100.
+
+
+2.   To satire next thy talent was addressed,
+     Fell foul on all thy friends among the rest;
+     Nay, even thy royal patron was not spared,
+     But an obscene, a sauntering wretch declared.
+     Thy loyal libel we can still produce,
+     Beyond example, and beyond excuse.
+     O strange return, to a forgiving king,
+     (But the warmed viper wears the greatest sting,)
+     For pension lost, and justly without doubt;
+     When servants snarl we ought to kick them out.
+     They that disdain their benefactor's bread.
+     No longer ought by bounty to be fed.
+     That lost, the visor changed, you turn about,
+     And straight a true-blue protestant crept out.
+     The Friar now was writ, and some will say,
+     They smell a malcontent through all the play.
+     The papist too was damned, unfit for trust,
+     Called treacherous, shameless, profligate, unjust,
+     And kingly power thought arbitrary lust.
+     This lasted till thou didst thy pension gain,
+     And that changed both thy morals and thy strain.
+                                   _The Laureat, 24th October, 1678._
+
+3.   From hence began that plot, the nation's curse,
+     Bad in itself, but represented worse.
+     Raised in extremes, and in extremes decryed,
+     With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied;
+     Nor weighed nor winnowed by the multitude,
+     But swallowed in the mass unchewed and crude.
+     Some truth there was, but dashed and bruised with lies,
+     To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
+     Succeeding times did equal folly call.
+     Believing nothing, or believing all.
+
+4. "Thus we see," says Collier, "how hearty these people are in their
+   ill-will; how they attack religion under every form, and pursue the
+   priesthood through all the subdivisions of opinion. Neither Jews
+   nor Heathens, Turk nor Christians, Rome nor Geneva, church nor
+   conventicle, can escape them. They are afraid lest virtue should
+   have any quarters, undisturbed conscience any corner to retire to,
+   or God worshipped in any place." _Short View, &c._ p. 110.
+
+5. "I have read somewhere in Mons. Rapin's _Reflections sur la
+   Poetique_, that a certain Venetian nobleman, Andrea Naugeria by
+   name, was wont every year to sacrifice a Martial to the manes of
+   Catullus: In imitation of this, a celebrated poet, in the preface
+   before the Spanish Friar, is pleased to acquaint the world, that he
+   has indignation enough to burn a Bussy D'Amboys, annually, to the
+   memory of Ben Jonson. Since the modern ceremony, of offering up one
+   author at the altar of another, is likely to advance into a
+   fashion; and having already the authority of two such great men to
+   recommend it, the courteous reader may be pleased to take notice,
+   that the author of the following dialogue is resolved, (God
+   willing) on the festival of the Seven Sleepers, as long as he
+   lives, to sacrifice the Hind and Panther to the memory of Mr
+   Quarels and John Bunyan: Or, if a writer that has notoriously
+   contradicted himself, and espoused the quarrel of two different
+   parties, may be considered under two distinct characters, he
+   designs to deliver up the author of the Hind and Panther, to be
+   lashed severely by, and to beg pardon of, the worthy gentleman that
+   wrote the Spanish Friar, and the Religion Laici." _The reason of Mr
+   Bayes' changing his religion._ Preface.
+
+6. "The Revolter," a tragi-comedy, 1687, p. 29.
+
+7. It is impossible to avoid transcribing the whole account of this
+   representation, with some other curious particulars, contained in a
+   letter from the earl of Nottingham, published by Sir John
+   Dalrymple, from a copy given him by the bishop of Dromore; and also
+   inserted by Mr Malone in his third volume of Dryden's prose works.
+
+   "I am loth to send blank paper by a carrier, but am rather willing
+   to send some of the tattle of the town, than nothing at all; which
+   will at least serve for an hour's chat,--and then convert the
+   scrawl to its proper use.
+
+   "The only day her Majesty gave herself the diversion of a play, and
+   that on which she designed to see another, has furnished the town
+   with discourse for near a month. The choice of the play was THE
+   SPANISH FRIAR, the only play forbid by the late K[ing], Some
+   unhappy expressions, among which those that follow, put her in some
+   disorder, and forced her to hold up her fan, and often look behind
+   her, and call for her palatine and hood, and any thing she could
+   next think of; while those who were in the pit before her, turned
+   their heads over their shoulders, and all in general directed their
+   looks towards her, whenever their fancy led them to make any
+   application of what was said. In one place, where the queen of
+   Arragon is going to church in procession, 'tis said by a spectator,
+   'Very good; she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison,
+   and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing on her army;'--And
+   when said, 'That 'tis observed at Court, who weeps, and who wears
+   black for good king Sancho's death,' 'tis said, 'Who is that, that
+   can flatter a Court like this? Can I sooth tyranny? seem pleas'd to
+   see my Royal Master murthered; his crown usurped; a distaff in the
+   throne?'--And 'What title has this queen, but lawless force; and
+   force must pull her down'--Twenty more things are said, which may
+   be wrested to what they were never designed: but however, the
+   observations then made furnished the town with talk, till something
+   else happened, which gave it much occasion for discourse; for
+   another play being ordered to be acted, the queen came not, being
+   taken up with other diversion. She dined with Mrs Gradens, the
+   famous woman in the hall, that sells fine laces and head-dresses;
+   from thence she went to the Jew's, that sells Indian things; to Mrs
+   Ferguson's, De Vett's, Mrs Harrison's, and other Indian houses; but
+   not to Mrs Potter's, though in her way; which caused Mrs Potter to
+   say, that she might as well have hoped for that honour as others,
+   considering that the whole design of bringing the queen and king
+   was managed at her house, and the consultations held there; so that
+   she might as well have thrown away a little money in raffling
+   there, as well as at the other houses: but it seems that my lord
+   Devonshire has got Mrs Potter to be laundress: she has not much
+   countenance of the queen, her daughter still keeping the Indian
+   house her mother had. The same day the queen went to one Mrs
+   Wise's, a famous woman for telling fortunes, but could not prevail
+   with her to tell anything; though to others she has been very true,
+   and has foretold that king James shall came in again, and the duke
+   of Norfolk shall lose his head: the last, I suppose, will naturally
+   be the consequence of the first. These things, however innocent,
+   have passed the censure of the town: and, besides a private
+   reprimand given, the king gave one in _public_; saying to the
+   queen, that he heard she dined at a bawdy-house, and desired the
+   next time she went, he might go. She said, she had done nothing but
+   what the late queen had done. He asked her, if she meant to make
+   her, her example. More was said on this occasion than ever was
+   known before; but it was borne with all the submission of a good
+   wife, who leaves all to the direction of the k----, and diverts
+   herself with walking six or seven miles a-day, and looking after
+   her buildings, making of fringes, and such like innocent things;
+   and does not meddle in government, though she has better title to
+   do it than the late queen had."
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                          LORD HAUGHTON[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+When I first designed this play, I found, or thought I found, somewhat
+so moving in the serious part of it, and so pleasant in the comic, as
+might deserve a more than ordinary care in both; accordingly, I used
+the best of my endeavour, in the management of two plots, so very
+different from each other, that it was not perhaps the talent of every
+writer to have made them of a piece. Neither have I attempted other
+plays of the same nature, in my opinion, with the same judgment,
+though with like success. And though many poets may suspect themselves
+for the fondness and partiality of parents to their youngest children,
+yet I hope I may stand exempted from this rule, because I know myself
+too well to be ever satisfied with my own conceptions, which have
+seldom reached to those ideas that I had within me; and consequently,
+I may presume to have liberty to judge when I write more or less
+pardonably, as an ordinary marksman may know certainly when he shoots
+less wide at what he aims. Besides, the care and pains I have bestowed
+on this, beyond my other tragi-comedies, may reasonably make the world
+conclude, that either I can do nothing tolerably, or that this poem is
+not much amiss. Few good pictures have been finished at one sitting;
+neither can a true just play, which is to bear the test of ages, be
+produced at a heat, or by the force of fancy, without the maturity of
+judgment. For my own part, I have both so just a diffidence of myself,
+and so great a reverence for my audience, that I dare venture nothing
+without a strict examination; and am as much ashamed to put a loose
+indigested play upon the public, as I should be to offer brass money
+in a payment; for though it should be taken, (as it is too often on
+the stage) yet it would be found in the second telling; and a
+judicious reader will discover, in his closet, that trashy stuff,
+whose glittering deceived him in the action. I have often heard the
+stationer sighing in his shop, and wishing for those hands to take off
+his melancholy bargain, which clapped its performance on the stage. In
+a playhouse, every thing contributes to impose upon the judgment; the
+lights, the scenes, the habits, and, above all, the grace of action,
+which is commonly the best where there is the most need of it,
+surprise the audience, and cast a mist upon their understandings; not
+unlike the cunning of a juggler, who is always staring us in the face,
+and over-whelming us with gibberish, only that he may gain the
+opportunity of making the cleaner conveyance of his trick. But these
+false beauties of the stage are no more lasting than a rainbow; when
+the actor ceases to shine upon them, when he gilds them no longer with
+his reflection, they vanish in a twinkling. I have sometimes wondered,
+in the reading, what was become of those glaring colours which amazed
+me in "Bussy D'Amboys" upon the theatre; but when I had taken up what
+I supposed a fallen star, I found I had been cozened with a jelly[2];
+nothing but a cold, dull mass, which glittered no longer than it was
+shooting; a dwarfish thought, dressed up in gigantic words, repetition
+in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross hyperboles; the sense
+of one line expanded prodigiously into ten; and, to sum up all,
+uncorrect English, and a hideous mingle of false poetry, and true
+nonsense; or, at best, a scantling of wit, which lay gasping for life,
+and groaning beneath a heap of rubbish. A famous modern poet used to
+sacrifice every year a Statius to Virgil's manes[3]; and I have
+indignation enough to burn a D'AMBOIS annually, to the memory of
+Jonson[4]. But now, my lord, I am sensible, perhaps too late, that I
+have gone too far: for, I remember some verses of my own Maximin and
+Almanzor, which cry vengeance upon me for their extravagance, and
+which I wish heartily in the same fire with Statius and Chapman. All I
+can say for those passages, which are, I hope, not many, is, that I
+knew they were bad enough to please, even when I wrote them; but I
+repent of them amongst my sins; and, if any of their fellows intrude
+by chance into my present writings, I draw a stroke over all those
+Dalilah's of the theatre; and am resolved I will settle myself no
+reputation by the applause of fools. It is not that I am mortified to
+all ambition, but I scorn as much to take it from half-witted judges,
+as I should to raise an estate by cheating of bubbles. Neither do I
+discommend the lofty style in tragedy, which is naturally pompous and
+magnificent; but nothing is truly sublime, that is not just and
+proper. If the antients had judged by the same measure, which a common
+reader takes, they had concluded Statius to have written higher than
+Virgil, for,
+
+  _Quæ super-imposito moles geminata Colosso_
+
+carries a more thundering kind of sound, than
+
+  _Tityre, tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi:_
+
+yet Virgil had all the majesty of a lawful prince, and Statius only
+the blustering of a tyrant. But when men affect a virtue which they
+cannot easily reach, they fall into a vice, which bears the nearest
+resemblance to it. Thus, an injudicious poet, who aims at loftiness,
+runs easily into the swelling puffy style, because it looks like
+greatness. I remember, when I was a boy, I thought inimitable Spencer
+a mean poet, in comparison of Sylvester's "Dubartas," and was wrapt
+into an ecstasy when I read these lines:
+
+  Now, when the winter's keener breath began
+  To crystalize the Baltic ocean;
+  To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods,
+  And periwig with snow the bald-pate woods:--[5]
+
+I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian, that is,
+thoughts and words ill-sorted, and without the least relation to each
+other; yet I dare not answer for an audience, that they would not clap
+it on the stage: so little value there is to be given to the common
+cry, that nothing but madness can please madmen, and the poet must be
+of a piece with the spectators, to gain a reputation with them. But,
+as in a room, contrived for state, the height of the roof should bear
+a proportion to the area; so, in the heightenings of poetry, the
+strength and vehemence of figures should be suited to the occasion,
+the subject, and the persons. All beyond this is monstrous: it is out
+of nature, it is an excrescence, and not a living part of poetry. I
+had not said thus much, if some young gallants, who pretend to
+criticism, had not told me, that this tragi-comedy wanted the dignity
+of style; but, as a man, who is charged with a crime of which he
+thinks himself innocent, is apt to be too eager in his own defence;
+so, perhaps, I have vindicated my play with more partiality than I
+ought, or than such a trifle can deserve. Yet, whatever beauties it
+may want, it is free at least from the grossness of those faults I
+mentioned: what credit it has gained upon the stage, I value no
+farther than in reference to my profit, and the satisfaction I had, in
+seeing it represented with all the justness and gracefulness of
+action. But, as it is my interest to please my audience, so it is my
+ambition to be read: that I am sure is the more lasting and the nobler
+design: for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden
+beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of
+action: all things are there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the
+objects only glide before the eye, and disappear. The most discerning
+critic can judge no more of these silent graces in the action, than he
+who rides post through an unknown country can distinguish the
+situation of places, and the nature of the soil. The purity of phrase,
+the clearness of conception and expression, the boldness maintained to
+majesty, the significancy and sound of words, not strained into
+bombast, but justly elevated; in short, those very words and thoughts,
+which cannot be changed, but for the worse, must of necessity escape
+our transient view upon the theatre; and yet, without all these, a
+play may take. For, if either the story move us, or the actor help the
+lameness of it with his performance, or now and then a glittering beam
+of wit or passion strike through the obscurity of the poem, any of
+these are sufficient to effect a present liking, but not to fix a
+lasting admiration; for nothing but truth can long continue; and time
+is the surest judge of truth. I am not vain enough to think that I
+have left no faults in this, which that touchstone will not discover;
+neither, indeed, is it possible to avoid them in a play of this
+nature. There are evidently two actions in it; but it will be clear to
+any judicious man, that with half the pains I could have raised a play
+from either of them; for this time I satisfied my humour, which was to
+tack two plays together; and to break a rule for the pleasure of
+variety. The truth is, the audience are grown weary of continued
+melancholy scenes; and I dare venture to prophecy, that few tragedies,
+except those in verse, shall succeed in this age, if they are not
+lightened with a course of mirth; for the feast is too dull and solemn
+without the fiddles. But how difficult a task this is, will soon be
+tried; for a several genius is required to either way; and, without
+both of them, a man, in my opinion, is but half a poet for the stage.
+Neither is it so trivial an undertaking, to make a tragedy end
+happily; for it is more difficult to save, than it is to kill. The
+dagger and the cup of poison are always in a readiness; but to bring
+the action to the last extremity, and then by probable means to
+recover all, will require the art and judgement of a writer; and cost
+him many a pang in the performance.
+
+And now, my lord, I must confess, that what I have written, looks more
+like a Preface, than a Dedication; and, truly, it was thus far my
+design, that I might entertain you with somewhat in my own art, which
+might be more worthy of a noble mind, than the stale exploded trick of
+fulsome panegyrics. It is difficult to write justly on any thing, but
+almost impossible in praise. I shall therefore wave so nice a subject;
+and only tell you, that, in recommending a protestant play to a
+protestant patron, as I do myself an honour, so I do your noble family
+a right, who have been always eminent in the support and favour of our
+religion and liberties. And if the promises of your youth, your
+education at home, and your experience abroad, deceive me not, the
+principles you have embraced are such, as will no way degenerate from
+your ancestors, but refresh their memory in the minds of all true
+Englishmen, and renew their lustre in your person; which, my lord, is
+not more the wish, than it is the constant expectation, of
+
+  Your lordship's
+    Most obedient, faithful servant,
+      JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John, Lord Haughton, eldest son of the Earl of Clare. succeeded to
+   his father, was created Marquis of Clare, and died 1711, leaving an
+   only daughter, who married the eldest son of the famous Robert
+   Harley, Earl of Oxford.
+
+2. See note on OEdipus, p. 151.
+
+3. Dryden appears to have alluded to the following passage in Strada,
+   though without a very accurate recollection of its contents: _"Sane
+   Andreas Naugerius Valerio Martiali acriter infensus, solemne jam
+   habebat in illum aliquanto petulantius jocari. Etenim natali suo,
+   accitis ad geniale epulum amicis, postquam prolixe de poeticæ
+   laudibus super mensam disputaverat; ostensurum se aiebat a cæna,
+   quo tandem modo laudari poesim deceret: Mox aferri jubebat
+   Martialis volumen, (hæc erat mensæ appendix) atque igni proprior
+   factus, illustri conflagratione absumendum flammis imponebat:
+   addebatque eo incendio litare se Musis, Manibusque Virgilij, cujus
+   imitatorem cultoremque prestare se melius haud posset, quam si
+   vilia poetarum capita per undas insecutus ac flammas perpetuo
+   perdidisset. Nec se eo loco tenuit, sed cum Silvas aliquot ab se
+   conscriptas legisset, audissetque Statianu characteri similes
+   videri, iratus sibi, quod a Martiale fugiens alio declinasset a
+   Virgilio, cum primum se recessit domum, in Silvas conjecit ignem."_
+   _Stradæ Prolusiones_, Lib. II. Pro. 5. From this passage, it is
+   obvious, that it was Martial, not Statius, whom Andreas Navagero
+   sacrificed to Virgil, although he burned his own verses when they
+   were accused of a resemblance to the style of the author of the
+   Thebaid. In the same prolusion, Strada quotes the "blustering"
+   line, afterwards censured by Dryden; but erroneously reads,
+
+     Super imposito moles _gemmata_ colosso.
+
+4. "Bussy D'Ambois," a tragedy, once much applauded, was the favourite
+   production of George Chapman. If Dryden could have exhausted every
+   copy of this bombast performance in one holocaust, the public would
+   have been no great losers, as may be apparent from the following
+   quotations:
+
+     _Bussy._ I'll sooth his plots, and strew my hate with smiles,
+     Till, all at once, the close mines of my heart
+     Rise at full state, and rush into his blood.
+     I'll bind his arm in silk, and rub his flesh,
+     To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush
+     Into some kennel, where it loves to lie;
+     And policy be flanked with policy.
+     Yet shall the feeling centre, where we meet.
+     Groan with the weight of my approaching feet.
+     I'll make the inspired threshold of his court
+     Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps,
+     Before I enter; yet, I will appear
+     Like calm securitie, befor a ruin.
+     A politician must, like lightning, melt
+     The very marrow, and not taint the skin;
+     His wayes must not be seen through, the superficies
+     Of the green centre must not taste his feet,
+     When hell is plowed up with the wounding tracts,
+     And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.
+
+   Montsurry, when he discovers that the Friar had acted as confident
+   in the intrigue betwixt his lady and d'Ambois, thus elegantly
+   expresses the common idea of the world being turned _upside down._
+
+       Now, is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;
+     Even heaven itself must see and suffer ill.
+     The too huge bias of the world hath swayed
+     Her back-part upwards, and with _that_ she braves
+     This hemisphere, that long her month hath mocked.
+     The gravity of her religious face,
+     Now grown too weighty with her sacrilege,
+     And here discerned sophisticate enough,
+     Turns to the antipodes, and all the forms
+     That here allusions have impressed in her,
+     Have eaten through her back, and now all see
+     How she is riveted with hypocrisie.
+
+   Yet, I observe, from the prologue to the edition of 1641, that the
+   part of D'Ambois was considered as a high test of a players'
+   talents:
+
+       --Field is gone,
+     Whose action first did give it name; and one
+     Who came the neatest to him, is denied,
+     By his grey beard, to shew the height and pride
+     Of d'Ambois' youth and braverie. Yet to hold
+     Our title still a-foot, and not grow cold,
+     By giving't o'er, a third man with his best
+     Of care and paines defends our interest.
+     As Richard he was liked, nor do we fear,
+     In personating d'Ambois, heile appear
+     To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent,
+     As heretofore, give him encouragement.
+
+   I believe the successor of Field, in this once favourite character,
+   was Hart. The piece was revived after the Restoration with great
+   success.
+
+5. Dryden has elsewhere ridiculed this absurd passage. The original
+   has "periwig with _wool_."
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Now, luck for us, and a kind hearty pit;
+  For he, who pleases, never fails of wit:
+  Honour is yours;
+  And you, like kings at city-treats, bestow it;
+  The writer kneels, and is bid rise a poet;
+  But you are fickle sovereigns, to our sorrow;
+  You dub to-day, and hang a man to-morrow:
+  You cry the same sense up, and down again,
+  Just like brass-money once a year in Spain:
+  Take you in the mood, whate'er base metal come,
+  You coin as fast as groats at Birmingham:
+  Though 'tis no more like sense, in antient plays,
+  Than Rome's religion like St Peter's days.
+  In short, so swift your judgments turn and wind,
+  You cast our fleetest wits a mile behind.
+  'Twere well your judgments but in plays did range,
+  But e'en your follies and debauches change
+  With such a whirl, the poets of our age
+  Are tired, and cannot score them on the stage;
+  Unless each vice in short-hand they indict,
+  Even as notch'd prentices whole sermons write[1].
+  The heavy Hollanders no vices know,
+  But what they used a hundred years ago;
+  Like honest plants, where they were stuck, they grow.
+  They cheat, but still from cheating sires they come;
+  They drink, but they were christened first in mum.
+  Their patrimonial sloth the Spaniards keep,
+  And Philip first taught Philip how to sleep.
+  The French and we still change; but here's the curse,
+  They change for better, and we change for worse;
+  They take up our old trade of conquering,
+  And we are taking theirs, to dance and sing:
+  Our fathers did, for change, to France repair,
+  And they, for change, will try our English air;
+  As children, when they throw one toy away,
+  Strait a more foolish gewgaw comes in play:
+  So we, grown penitent, on serious thinking,
+  Leave whoring, and devoutly fall to drinking.
+  Scowering the watch grows out-of-fashion wit:
+  Now we set up for tilting in the pit,
+  Where 'tis agreed by bullies chicken-hearted,
+  To fright the ladies first, and then be parted.
+  A fair attempt has twice or thrice been made,
+  To hire night murderers, and make death a trade[2].
+  When murder's out, what vice can we advance?
+  Unless the new-found poisoning trick of France:
+  And, when their art of rats-bane we have got,
+  By way of thanks, we'll send them o'er our plot.
+
+
+Footnotes
+1. It was anciently a part of the apprentice's duty, not only to carry
+   the family bible to church, but to take notes of the sermon for the
+   edification of his master or mistress.
+
+2. Alluding apparently to the assassination of Thomas Thynne, esq. in
+   Pall-Mall, by the hired bravoes of count Coningsmark.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  TORRISMOND, _Son of_ SANCHO, _the deposed King, believing
+              himself Son of_ RAYMOND.
+  BERTRAN, _a Prince of the blood._
+  ALPHONSO, _a general Officer, Brother to_ RAYMOND.
+  LORENZO, _his Son._
+  RAYMOND, _a Nobleman, supposed Father of_ TORRISMOND.
+  PEDRO, _an Officer._
+  GOMEZ, _an old Usurer._
+  DOMINICK, _the Spanish Friar._
+
+  LEONORA, _Queen of Arragon._
+  TERESA, _Woman to_ LEONORA.
+  ELVIRA, _Wife to_ GOMEZ.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            SPANISH FRIAR:
+
+                                OR THE
+
+                          DOUBLE DISCOVERY.
+
+
+ACT I.--SCENE I.
+
+  ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO _meet, with Soldiers on each Side, Drums, &c._
+
+_Alph._ Stand: give the word.
+
+_Ped._ The queen of Arragon.
+
+_Alph._ Pedro?--how goes the night?
+
+_Ped._ She wears apace.
+
+_Alph._ Then welcome day-light; we shall have warm work on't.
+The Moor will 'gage
+His utmost forces on this next assault,
+To win a queen and kingdom.
+
+_Ped._ Pox on this lion-way of wooing, though.
+Is the queen stirring yet?
+
+_Alph._ She has not been abed, but in her chapel
+All night devoutly watched, and bribed the saints
+With vows for her deliverance.
+
+_Ped._ O, Alphonso!
+I fear they come too late. Her father's crimes
+Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers.
+A crown usurped; a lawful king deposed,
+In bondage held, debarred the common light;
+His children murdered, and his friends destroyed,--
+What can we less expect than what we feel,
+And what we fear will follow?
+
+_Alph._ Heaven avert it!
+
+_Ped._ Then heaven must not be heaven. Judge the event
+By what has passed. The usurper joyed not long
+His ill-got crown:--'tis true, he died in peace,--
+Unriddle that, ye powers!--but left his daughter,
+Our present queen, engaged upon his death-bed,
+To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed father
+Had helped to make him great.
+Hence, you well know, this fatal war arose;
+Because the Moor Abdalla, with whose troops
+The usurper gained the kingdom, was refused;
+And, as an infidel, his love despised.
+
+_Alph._ Well, we are soldiers, Pedro; and, like lawyers,
+Plead for our pay.
+
+_Ped._ A good cause would do well though:
+It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran
+Has now three times been beaten by the Moors:
+What hope we have, is in young Torrismond,
+Your brother's son.
+
+_Alph._ He's a successful warrior,
+And has the soldiers' hearts: upon the skirts
+Of Arragon our squandered troops he rallies.
+Our watchmen from the towers with longing eyes
+Expect his swift arrival.
+
+_Ped._ It must be swift, or it will come too late.
+
+_Alph._ No more.--Duke Bertran.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN _attended._
+
+_Bert._ Relieve the sentries that have watched all night.
+[_To Ped._] Now, colonel, have you disposed your men,
+That you stand idle here?
+
+_Ped._ Mine are drawn off
+To take a short repose.
+
+_Bert._ Short let it be:
+For, from the Moorish camp, this hour and more,
+There has been heard a distant humming noise,
+Like bees disturbed, and arming in their hives.
+What courage in our soldiers? Speak! What hope?
+
+_Ped._ As much as when physicians shake their heads,
+And bid their dying patient think of heaven.
+Our walls are thinly manned; our best men slain;
+The rest, an heartless number, spent with watching,
+And harassed out with duty.
+
+_Bert._ Good-night all, then.
+
+_Ped._ Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life
+I have to lose. I'll plant my colours down
+In the mid-breach, and by them fix my foot;
+Say a short soldier's prayer, to spare the trouble
+Of my new friends above; and then expect
+The next fair bullet.
+
+_Alph._ Never was known a night of such distraction;
+Noise so confused and dreadful; jostling crowds.
+That run, and know not whither; torches gliding,
+Like meteors, by each other in the streets.
+
+_Ped._ I met a reverend, fat, old gouty friar,--
+With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin
+Might rest upon it; a true son of the church;
+Fresh-coloured, well thriven on his trade,--
+Come puffing with his greasy bald-pate choir,
+And fumbling o'er his beads in such an agony,
+He told them false, for fear. About his neck
+There hung a wench, the label of his function,
+Whom he shook off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.
+It seems the holy stallion durst not score
+Another sin, before he left the world.
+
+  _Enter a Captain._
+
+_Capt._ To arms, my lord, to arms!
+From the Moors' camp the noise grows louder still:
+Rattling of armour, trumpets, drums, and ataballes;
+And sometimes peals of shouts that rend the heavens,
+Like victory: then groans again, and howlings,
+Like those of vanquished men; but every echo
+Goes fainter off, and dies in distant sounds.
+
+_Bert._ Some false attack: expect on t'other side.
+One to the gunners on St Jago's tower; bid them, for shame,
+Level their cannon lower: On my soul
+They are all corrupted with the gold of Barbary,
+To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.
+
+  _Enter a second Captain._
+
+_2 Capt._ My lord, here's fresh intelligence arrived.
+Our army, led by valiant Torrismond,
+Is now in hot engagement with the Moors;
+'Tis said, within their trenches.
+
+_Bert._ I think all fortune is reserved for him!--
+He might have sent us word though;
+And then we could have favoured his attempt
+With sallies from the town.
+
+_Alph._ It could not be:
+We were so close blocked up, that none could peep
+Upon the walls and live. But yet 'tis time.
+
+_Bert._ No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:
+On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.
+
+_Ped._ Oh envy, envy, how it works within him!               [_Aside._
+How now? what means this show?
+
+_Alph._ 'Tis a procession.
+The queen is going to the great cathedral,
+To pray for our success against the Moors.
+
+_Ped._ Very good: she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison,
+and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing. Oh religion and
+roguery, how they go together!
+                    [_A Procession of Priests and Choristers in White,
+                     with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies,
+                     goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing,_
+
+  _Look down, ye blessed above, look down,
+    Behold our weeping matrons' tears,
+    Behold our tender virgins' fears,
+  And with success our armies crown.
+
+  Look down, ye blessed above, look down:
+    Oh! save us, save as, and our state restore;
+    For pity, pity, pity, we implore:
+  For pity, pity, pity, we implore._
+                   [_The Procession goes off; and shout within.  Then_
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, _who kneels to_ ALPHONSO.
+
+_Bert._ [_To Alph._] A joyful cry; and see your son
+Lorenzo. Good news, kind heaven!
+
+_Alph._ [_To Lor._]
+O welcome, welcome! is the general safe?
+How near our army? when shall we be succoured?
+Or, are we succoured? are the Moors removed?
+Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more;
+Answer them all together.
+
+_Lor._ Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.
+The general's well; his army too is safe,
+As victory can make them. The Moors' king
+Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.
+At dawn of day our general cleft his pate,
+Spite of his woollen night-cap: a slight wound;
+Perhaps he may recover.
+
+_Alph._ Thou reviv'st me.
+
+_Ped._ By my computation now, the victory was gained before the
+procession was made for it; and yet it will go hard but the priests
+will make a miracle of it.
+
+_Lor._ Yes, faith; we came like bold intruding guests,
+And took them unprepared to give us welcome.
+Their scouts we killed, then found their body sleeping;
+And as they lay confused, we stumbled o'er them,
+And took what joint came next, arms, heads, or legs,
+Somewhat indecently. But when men want light,
+They make but bungling work.
+
+_Bert._ I'll to the queen,
+And bear the news.
+
+_Ped._ That's young Lorenzo's duty.
+
+_Bert._ I'll spare his trouble.--
+This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;
+He must be mine, or ruined.                        [_Aside, and Exit._
+
+_Lor._ Pedro a word:--[_whisper._]
+
+_Alph._ How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,
+In spite of his dissembling.
+[_To Lorenzo._] How many of the enemy are slain?
+
+_Lor._ Troth, sir, we were in haste, and could not stay
+To score the men we killed; but there they lie:
+Best send our women out to take the tale;
+There's circumcision in abundance for them. [_Turns to_ PEDRO _again._
+
+_Alph._ How far did you pursue them?
+
+_Lor._ Some few miles.--
+[_To Pedro_] Good store of harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?
+Pedro, they must be had, and speedily;
+I've kept a tedious fast.                            [_Whisper again._
+
+_Alph._ When will he make his entry? he deserves
+Such triumphs as were given by ancient Rome:
+Ha, boy, what say'st thou?
+
+_Lor._ As you say, sir, that Rome was very ancient.
+[_To Pedro._] I leave the choice to you; fair, black, tall, low,
+Let her but have a nose; and you may tell her,
+I am rich in jewels, rings, and bobbing pearls,
+Plucked from Moors' ears.
+
+_Alph._ Lorenzo.
+
+_Lor._ Somewhat busy
+About affairs relating to the public.--
+A seasonable girl, just in the nick now--                 [_To Pedro._
+                                                   [_Trumpets within._
+
+_Ped._ I hear the general's trumpet. Stand and mark
+How he will be received; I fear, but coldly.
+There hung a cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.
+
+_Lor._ Then look to see a storm on Torrismond's;
+Looks fright not men. The general has seen Moors
+With as bad faces; no dispraise to Bertran's.
+
+_Ped._ 'Twas rumoured in the camp, he loves the queen.
+
+_Lor._ He drinks her health devoutly.
+
+_Alph._ That may breed bad blood betwixt him and Bertran.
+
+_Ped._ Yes, in private.
+But Bertran has been taught the arts of court,
+To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin,
+O here they come.--
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND _and Officers on one Side,_ BERTRAN _attended on
+  the other; they embrace,_ BERTRAN _bowing low._
+
+Just as I prophesied.--
+
+_Lor._ Death and hell, he laughs at him!--in his face too.
+
+_Ped._ O you mistake him; 'twas an humble grin,
+The fawning joy of courtiers and of dogs.
+
+_Lor._ Here are nothing but lies to be expected: I'll even go lose
+myself in some blind alley, and try if any courteous damsel will think
+me worth the finding.                              [_Aside, and Exit._
+
+_Alph._ Now he begins to open.
+
+_Bert._ Your country rescued, and your queen relieved,--
+A glorious conquest, noble Torrismond!
+The people rend the skies with loud applause,
+And heaven can hear no other name but yours.
+The thronging crowds press on you as you pass,
+And with their eager joy make triumph slow.
+
+_Torr._ My lord, I have no taste
+Of popular applause; the noisy praise
+Of giddy crowds, as changeable as winds;
+Still vehement, and still without a cause;
+Servant to chance, and blowing in the tide
+Of swoln success; but veering with its ebb,
+It leaves the channel dry.
+
+_Bert._ So young a stoick!
+
+_Torr._ You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop
+Within these veins for pageants; but, let honour
+Call for my blood, and sluice it into streams:
+Turn fortune loose again to my pursuit,
+And let me hunt her through embattled foes,
+In dusty plains, amidst the cannons' roar,
+There will I be the first.
+
+_Bert._ I'll try him farther.--                              [_Aside._
+Suppose the assembled states of Arragon
+Decree a statue to you, thus inscribed:
+"To Torrismond, who freed his native land."
+
+_Alph._ [_To Ped._]
+Mark how he sounds and fathoms him,
+To find the shallows of his soul!
+
+_Bert._ The just applause
+Of god-like senates, is the stamp of virtue,
+Which makes it pass unquestioned through the world.
+These honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage
+Be last to fix them on you. If refused,
+You brand us all with black ingratitude:
+For times to come shall say,--Our Spain, like Rome,
+Neglects her champions after noble acts,
+And lets their laurels wither on their heads.
+
+_Torr._ A statue, for a battle blindly fought,
+Where darkness and surprise made conquest cheap!
+Where virtue borrowed but the arms of chance,
+And struck a random blow!--'Twas fortune's work,
+And fortune take the praise.
+
+_Bert._ Yet happiness
+Is the first fame. Virtue without success
+Is a fair picture shewn by an ill light;
+But lucky men are favourites of heaven:
+And whom should kings esteem above heaven's darlings?
+The praises of a young and beauteous queen
+Shall crown your glorious acts.
+
+_Ped._ [_To Alph._] There sprung the mine.
+
+_Torr._ The queen! that were a happiness too great!
+Named you the queen, my lord?
+
+_Bert._ Yes: you have seen her, and you must confess,
+A praise, a smile, a look from her is worth
+The shouts of thousand amphitheatres.
+She, she shall praise you, for I can oblige her:
+To-morrow will deliver all her charms
+Into my arms, and make her mine for ever.--
+Why stand you mute?
+
+_Torr._ Alas! I cannot speak.
+
+_Bert._ Not speak, my lord! How were your thoughts employed?
+
+_Torr._ Nor can I think, or I am lost in thought.
+
+_Bert._ Thought of the queen, perhaps?
+
+_Torr._ Why, if it were,
+Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.
+
+_Bert._ O, now I find where your ambition drives!
+You ought not to think of her.
+
+_Torr._ So I say too,
+I ought not; madmen ought not to be mad;
+But who can help his frenzy?
+
+_Bert._ Fond young man!
+The wings of your ambition must be clipt:
+Your shame-faced virtue shunned the people's praise,
+And senate's honours: But 'tis well we know
+What price you hold yourself at. You have fought
+With some success, and that has sealed your pardon.
+
+_Torr._ Pardon from thee!--O, give me patience, heaven!--
+Thrice vanquished Bertran, if thou dar'st, look out
+Upon yon slaughtered host, that field of blood;
+There seal my pardon, where thy fame was lost.
+
+_Ped._ He's ruined, past redemption!
+
+_Alph._ [_To_ TORR.] Learn respect
+To the first prince of the blood.
+
+_Bert._ O, let him rave!
+I'll not contend with madmen.
+
+_Torr._ I have done:
+I know, 'twas madness to declare this truth:
+And yet, 'twere baseness to deny my love.
+'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;
+Lighter than children's bubbles blown by winds:
+My merit's but the rash result of chance;
+My birth unequal; all the stars against me:
+Power, promise, choice, the living and the dead;
+Mankind my foes; and only love to friend:
+But such a love, kept at such awful distance,
+As, what it loudly dares to tell a rival,
+Shall fear to whisper there. Queens may be loved,
+And so may gods; else why are altars raised?
+Why shines the sun, but that he may be viewed?
+But, oh! when he's too bright, if then we gaze,
+'Tis but to weep, and close our eyes in darkness.             [_Exit._
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis well; the goddess shall be told, she shall,
+Of her new worshipper.                                        [_Exit._
+
+_Ped._ So, here's fine work!
+He has supplied his only foe with arms
+For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale
+Inverted; he has unravelled all by day,
+That he has done by night. What, planet struck!
+
+_Alph._ I wish I were; to be past sense of this!
+
+_Ped._ Would I had but a lease of life so long,
+As 'till my flesh and blood rebelled this way,
+Against our sovereign lady;--mad for a queen?
+With a globe in one hand, and a sceptre in t'other?
+A very pretty moppet!
+
+_Alph._ Then to declare his madness to his rival!
+His father absent on an embassy;
+Himself a stranger almost; wholly friendless!
+A torrent, rolling down a precipice,
+Is easier to be stopt, than is his ruin.
+
+_Ped._ 'Tis fruitless to complain; haste to the court;
+Improve your interest there for pardon from the queen.
+
+_Alph._ Weak remedies;
+But all must be attempted.                                    [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have been ranging over
+half the town; but have sprung no game. Our women are worse infidels
+than the Moors: I told them I was one of the knight-errants, that
+delivered them from ravishment; and I think in my conscience, that is
+their quarrel to me.
+
+_Ped._ Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is run honourably mad
+in love with her majesty; he is split upon a rock, and you, who are in
+chase of harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think, the devil's
+in the family.                                                [_Exit._
+
+_Lor._ [_Solus._] My cousin ruined, says he! hum, not that I wish my
+kinsman's ruin; that were unchristian: but, if the general is ruined,
+I am heir; there's comfort for a Christian! Money I have; I thank the
+honest Moors for it; but I want a mistress. I am willing to be lewd;
+but the tempter is wanting on his part.
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA, _veiled._
+
+_Elv._ Stranger! Cavalier!--will you not hear me? you Moor-killer, you
+Matador!--
+
+_Lor._ Meaning me, madam?
+
+_Elv._ Face about, man! you a soldier, and afraid of the enemy!
+
+_Lor._ I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first: I
+see souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this devil's
+reign. [_Aside._] Now, Madam Cynthia, behind a cloud, your will and
+pleasure with me?
+
+_Elv._ You have the appearance of a cavalier; and if you are as
+deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your adventure.
+If a lady like you well enough to hold discourse with you at first
+sight; you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an
+apology, and to lay the blame on stars, or destiny, or what you
+please, to excuse the frailty of a woman?
+
+_Lor._ O, I love an easy woman! there's such ado, to crack a
+thick-shelled mistress; we break our teeth, and find no kernel. 'Tis
+generous in you, to take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to
+fall into ill hands at his first arrival.
+
+_Elv._ You may have a better opinion of me than I deserve; you have
+not seen me yet; and, therefore, I am confident you are heart-whole.
+
+_Lor._ Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I am drawing on
+apace: you have a dangerous tongue in your head, I can tell you that;
+and if your eyes prove of as killing metal, there is but one way with
+me. Let me see you, for the safeguard of my honour; 'tis but decent
+the cannon should be drawn down upon me before I yield.
+
+_Elv._ What a terrible similitude have you made, colonel, to shew that
+you are inclining to the wars? I could answer you with another in my
+profession: Suppose you were in want of money, would you not be glad
+to take a sum upon content in a sealed bag, without peeping?--but,
+however, I will not stand with you for a sample. [_Lifts up her veil._
+
+_Lor._ What eyes were there! how keen their glances! you do well to
+keep them veiled; they are too sharp to be trusted out of the
+scabbard.
+
+_Elv._ Perhaps now, you may accuse my forwardness; but this day of
+jubilee is the only time of freedom I have had; and there is nothing
+so extravagant as a prisoner, when he gets loose a little, and is
+immediately to return into his fetters.
+
+_Lor._ To confess freely to you, madam, I was never in love with less
+than your whole sex before; but now I have seen you, I am in the
+direct road of languishing and sighing; and, if love goes on as it
+begins, for aught I know, by to-morrow morning you may hear of me in
+rhyme and sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not like these symptoms in
+myself. Perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I was never before
+walked in trammels; yet, I shall drudge and moil at constancy, till I
+have worn off the hitching in my pace.
+
+_Elv._ Oh, sir, there are arts to reclaim the wildest men, as there
+are to make spaniels fetch and carry: chide them often, and feed them
+seldom. Now I know your temper, you may thank yourself, if you are
+kept to hard meat. You are in for years, if you make love to me.
+
+_Lor._ I hate a formal obligation with an _Anno Domini_ at end on't;
+there may be an evil meaning in the word years, called matrimony.
+
+_Elv._ I can easily rid you of that fear: I wish I could rid myself as
+easily of the bondage.
+
+_Lor._ Then you are married?
+
+_Elv._ If a covetous, and a jealous, and an old man be a husband.
+
+_Lor._ Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish: now
+love be praised!
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA'S _Duenna, and whispers to her._
+
+_Elv._ [_Aside._] If I get not home before my husband, I shall be
+ruined. [_To him._] I dare not stay to tell you where.
+Farewell!--Could I once more--                                [_Exit._
+
+_Lor._ This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a slave, and know
+not whose livery I wear. Who have we yonder?
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ.
+
+By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old banker, Gomez,
+whom I knew at Barcelona: As I live 'tis he!--What, old Mammon here!
+                                                          [_To_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Gom._ How! young Beelzebub?
+
+_Lor._ What devil has set his claws in thy haunches, and brought thee
+hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther journey with thee.
+
+_Gom._ I always remove before the enemy: When the Moors are ready to
+besiege one town, I shift quarters to the next; I keep as far from the
+infidels as I can.
+
+_Lor._ That's but a hair's breadth at farthest.
+
+_Gom._ Well, you have got a famous victory; all true subjects are
+overjoyed at it: There are bonfires decreed; an the times had not been
+hard, my billet should have burnt too.
+
+_Lor._ I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single
+billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it; thou
+art for saving every thing but thy soul.
+
+_Gom._ Well, well, you'll not believe me generous, 'till I carry you
+to the tavern, and crack half a pint with you at my own charges.
+
+_Lor._ No; I'll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an
+extravagance; and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal
+courtesy. I have just now seen a most incomparable young lady.
+
+_Gom._ Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young lady?--My
+mind misgives me plaguily.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Lor._ Here, man, just before this corner-house: Pray heaven, it prove
+no bawdy-house.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] Pray heaven, he does not make it one!
+
+_Lor._ What dost thou mutter to thyself? Hast thou any thing to say
+against the honesty of that house?
+
+_Gom._ Not I, colonel; the walls are very honest stone, and the timber
+very honest wood, for aught I know; but for the woman, I cannot say,
+till I know her better: Describe her person, and, if she live in this
+quarter, I may give you tidings of her.
+
+_Lor._ She is of a middle stature, dark-coloured hair, the most
+bewitching leer with her eyes, the most roguish cast! her cheeks are
+dimpled when she smiles, and her smiles would tempt an hermit.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] I am dead, I am buried, I am damned.--Go on,
+colonel; have you no other marks of her?
+
+_Lor._ Thou hast all her marks; but she has a husband, a jealous,
+covetous, old hunks: Speak! canst thou tell me news of her?
+
+_Gom._ Yes; this news, colonel, that you have seen your last of her.
+
+_Lor._ If thou help'st me not to the knowledge of her, thou art a
+circumcised Jew.
+
+_Gom._ Circumcise me no more than I circumcise you, colonel Hernando:
+Once more, you have seen your last of her.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] I am glad he knows me only by that name of Hernando,
+by which I went at Barcelona; now he can tell no tales of me to my
+father.--[_To him._] Come, thou wer't ever good-natured, when thou
+couldst get by it--Look here, rogue; 'tis of the right damning colour:
+Thou art not proof against gold, sure!--Do not I know thee for a
+covetous--
+
+_Gom._ Jealous old hunks? those were the marks of your mistress's
+husband, as I remember, colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Oh the devil! What a rogue in understanding was I, not to find
+him out sooner!                                              [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Do, do, look sillily, good colonel; 'tis a decent melancholy
+after an absolute defeat.
+
+_Lor._ Faith, not for that, clear Gomez; but--
+
+_Gom._ But--no pumping, my dear colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Hang pumping! I was thinking a little upon a point of
+gratitude. We two have been long acquaintance; I know thy merits, and
+can make some interest;--Go to; thou wert born to authority; I'll make
+thee Alcaide, Mayor of Saragossa.
+
+_Gom._ Satisfy yourself; you shall not make me what you think,
+colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Faith, but I will; thou hast the face of a magistrate already.
+
+_Gom._ And you would provide me with a magistrate's head to my
+magistrate's face; I thank you, colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle story! That woman I
+saw, I mean that little, crooked, ugly woman,--for t'other was a
+lie,--is no more thy wife,--As I'll go home with thee, and satisfy
+thee immediately, my dear friend.
+
+_Gom._ I shall not put you to that trouble; no, not so much as a
+single visit; not so much as an embassy by a civil old woman, nor a
+serenade of _twinkledum twinkledum_ under my windows; nay, I will
+advise you, out of my tenderness to your person, that you walk not
+near yon corner-house by night; for, to my certain knowledge, there
+are blunderbusses planted in every loop-hole, that go off constantly
+of their own accord, at the squeaking of a fiddle, and the thrumming
+of a guitar.
+
+_Lor._ Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open war against thee;
+I'll demolish thy citadel by force; or, at least, I'll bring my whole
+regiment upon thee; my thousand red locusts, that shall devour thee in
+free quarters. Farewell, wrought night-cap.           [_Exit_ LORENZO.
+
+_Gom._ Farewell, Buff. Free quarters for a regiment of red-coat
+locusts? I hope to see them all in the Red-Sea first! But oh, this
+Jezabel of mine! I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her an
+ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
+incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not to church for
+confession; and, for never going, she shall be condemned for a
+heretic. She shall have stripes by Troy weight, and sustenance by
+drachms and scruples: Nay, I'll have a fasting almanack, printed on
+purpose for her use, in which
+  No Carnival nor Christmas shall appear,
+  But lents and ember-weeks shall fill the year.              [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Queen's Antechamber._
+
+  _Enter_ ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Alph._ When saw you my Lorenzo?
+
+_Ped._ I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me,
+Like a young hound upon a burning scent;
+He's gone a harlot-hunting.
+
+_Alph._ His foreign breeding might have taught him better.
+
+_Ped._ 'Tis that has taught him this.
+What learn our youth abroad, but to refine
+The homely vices of their native land?
+Give me an honest home-spun country clown
+Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain,
+But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools,
+But come back fops.
+
+_Alph._ You know what reasons urged me;
+But now, I have accomplished my designs,
+I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots
+Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close,
+Did not the threatened downfal of our house,
+In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN, _attended, and whispering with a Courtier, aside._
+
+_Bert._ I would not have her think, he dared to love her;
+If he presume to own it, she's so proud,
+He tempts his certain ruin.
+
+_Alph._ [_To_ PED.]
+Mark how disdainfully he throws his eyes on us.
+Our old imprisoned king wore no such looks.
+
+_Ped._ O! would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,
+And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho,
+I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his trumpets,
+And Torrismond but whistle through his fingers,
+He draws his army off.
+
+_Alph._ I told him so;
+But had an answer louder than a storm.
+
+_Ped._ Now, plague and pox on his smock-loyalty!
+I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted,
+Made sour and senseless, turned to whey by love;
+A drivelling hero, fit for a romance.--
+O, here he comes! what will their greetings be?
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, _attended;_ BERTRAN _and he meet and jostle._
+
+_Bert._ Make way, my lords, and let the pageant pass.
+
+_Tor._ I make my way, where'er I see my foe;
+But you, my lord, are good at a retreat.
+I have no Moors behind me.
+
+_Bert._ Death and hell!
+Dare to speak thus when you come out again.
+
+_Tor._ Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man!
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA.
+
+_Ter._ My lords, you are too loud so near the queen;
+You, Torrismond, have much offended her.
+'Tis her command you instantly appear,
+To answer your demeanour to the prince.
+                           [_Exit_ TERESA; BERTRAN, _with his company,
+                            follow her._
+
+_Tor._ O, Pedro, O, Alphonso, pity me!
+A grove of pikes,
+Whose polished steel from far severely shines,
+Are not so dreadful as this beauteous queen.
+
+_Alph._ Call up your courage timely to your aid,
+And, like a lion, pressed upon the toils,
+Leap on your hunters. Speak your actions boldly;
+There is a time when modest virtue is
+Allowed to praise itself.
+
+_Ped._ Heart! you were hot enough, too hot, but now;
+Your fury then boiled upward to a foam;
+But since this message came, you sink and settle,
+As if cold water had been poured upon you.
+
+_Tor._ Alas! thou know'st not what it is to love!
+When we behold an angel, not to fear,
+Is to be impudent: No, I am resolved,
+Like a led victim, to my death I'll go,
+And, dying, bless the hand, that gave the blow.             [_Exeunt._
+
+  _The_ SCENE _draws, and shews the Queen sitting in state;_ BERTRAN
+  _standing next to her; then_ TERESA, _&c. She rises, and comes to
+  the front._
+
+_Leonora._ [_To_ BERT.]
+I blame not you, my lord; my father's will,
+Your own deserts, and all my people's voice,
+Have placed you in the view of sovereign power.
+But I would learn the cause, why Torrismond,
+Within my palace-walls, within my hearing,
+Almost within my sight,--affronts a prince,
+Who shortly shall command him.
+
+_Bert._ He thinks you owe him more than you can pay;
+And looks as he were lord of human kind.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, ALPHONSO, PEDRO. TORRISMOND _bows low, then
+  looks earnestly on the Queen, and keeps at Distance._
+
+_Teresa._ Madam, the general.--
+
+_Leo._ Let me view him well.
+My father sent him early to the frontiers;
+I have not often seen him; if I did,
+He passed unmarked by my unheeding eyes:--
+But where's the fierceness, the disdainful pride,
+The haughty port, the fiery arrogance?--
+By all these marks, this is not, sure, the man.
+
+_Bert._ Yet this is he, who filled your court with tumult,
+Whose fierce demeanour, and whose insolence,
+The patience of a god could not support.
+
+_Leo._ Name his offence, my lord, and he shall have
+Immediate punishment.
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it,
+That my presumption then would equal his.
+
+_Leo._ Some one among you speak.
+
+_Ped._ Now my tongue itches.                                 [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ All dumb! On your allegiance, Torrismond,
+By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.
+
+_Tor._ [_Kneeling._]
+O seek not to convince me of a crime,
+Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon;
+Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,
+That he who, thus commanded, dares to speak,
+Unless commanded, would have died in silence.
+But you adjured me, madam, by my hopes!
+Hopes I have none, for I am all despair;
+Friends I have none, for friendship follows favour;
+Desert I've none, for what I did was duty:--
+Oh that it were!--that it were duty all!
+
+_Leo._ Why do you pause? proceed.
+
+_Tor._ As one, condemned to leap a precipice,
+Who sees before his eyes the depth below,
+Stops short, and looks about for some kind shrub
+To break his dreadful fall.--so I--
+But whither am I going? If to death,
+He looks so lovely sweet in beauty's pomp,
+He draws me to his dart.--I dare no more.
+
+_Bert._ He's mad, beyond the cure of hellebore.
+Whips, darkness, dungeons, for this insolence.
+
+_Tor._ Mad as I am, yet I know when to bear.
+
+_Leo._ You're both too bold.--You, Torrismond, withdraw,
+I'll teach you all what's owing to your queen.--
+For you, my lord,--
+The priest to-morrow was to join our hands;
+I'll try if I can live a day without you.--
+So both of you depart, and live in peace.
+
+_Alph._ Who knows which way she points?
+Doubling and turning like an hunted hare;--
+Find out the meaning of her mind who can.
+
+_Pedr._ Who ever found a woman's? backward and forward,
+The whole sex in every word.
+In my conscience, when she was getting, her mother was thinking of a
+riddle.                        [_Exeunt all but the Queen and_ TERESA.
+
+_Leo._ Haste, my Teresa, haste, and call him back.
+
+_Ter._ Whom, madam?
+
+_Leo._ Him.
+
+_Ter._ Prince Bertran?
+
+_Leo._ Torrismond;
+There is no other he.
+
+_Ter._ [_Aside._] A rising sun,
+Or I am much deceived.                                 [_Exit_ TERESA.
+
+_Leo._ A change so swift what heart did ever feel!
+It rushed upon me like a mighty stream,
+And bore me, in a moment, far from shore.
+I loved away myself; in one short hour
+Already am I gone an age of passion.
+Was it his youth, his valour, or success?
+These might, perhaps, be found in other men:
+'Twas that respect, that awful homage, paid me;
+That fearful love, which trembled in his eyes,
+And with a silent earthquake shook his soul.
+But, when he spoke, what tender words he said!
+So softly, that, like flakes of feathered snow,
+They melted as they fell.--
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA _with_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Ter._ He waits your pleasure.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis well; retire.--Oh heavens, that I must speak
+So distant from my heart!--                                  [_Aside._
+[_To_ TOR.] How now! What boldness brings you back again?
+
+_Tor._ I heard 'twas your command.
+
+_Leo._ A fond mistake,
+To credit so unlikely a command;
+And you return, full of the same presumption,
+To affront me with your love!
+
+_Tor._ If 'tis presumption, for a wretch condemned,
+To throw himself beneath his judge's feet:
+A boldness more than this I never knew;
+Or, if I did, 'twas only to your foes.
+
+_Leo._ You would insinuate your past services,
+And those, I grant, were great; but you confess
+A fault committed since, that cancels all.
+
+_Tor._ And who could dare to disavow his crime,
+When that, for which he is accused and seized,
+He bears about him still! My eyes confess it;
+My every action speaks my heart aloud:
+But, oh, the madness of my high attempt
+Speaks louder yet! and all together cry,--
+I love and I despair.
+
+_Leo._ Have you not heard,
+My father, with his dying voice, bequeathed
+My crown and me to Bertran? And dare you,
+A private man, presume to love a queen?
+
+_Tor._ That, that's the wound! I see you set so high,
+As no desert or services can reach.--
+Good heavens, why gave you me a monarch's soul,
+And crusted it with base plebeian clay?
+Why gave you me desires of such extent,
+And such a span to grasp them? Sure, my lot
+By some o'er-hasty angel was misplaced
+In fate's eternal volume!--But I rave,
+And, like a giddy bird in dead of night,
+Fly round the fire that scorches me to death.
+
+_Leo._ Yet, Torrismond, you've not so ill deserved,
+But I may give you counsel for your cure.
+
+_Tor._ I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cured.
+
+_Leo._ [_Aside._] Nor I, heaven knows!
+
+_Tor._ There is a pleasure, sure,
+In being mad, which none but madmen know!
+Let me indulge it; let me gaze for ever!
+And, since you are too great to be beloved,
+Be greater, greater yet, and be adored.
+
+_Leo._ These are the words which I must only hear
+From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you:
+I say they should; but women are so vain,
+To like the love, though they despise the lover.
+Yet, that I may not send you from my sight
+In absolute despair,--I pity you.
+
+_Tor._ Am I then pitied! I have lived enough!--
+Death, take me in this moment of my joy;
+But, when my soul is plunged in long oblivion,
+Spare this one thought! let me remember pity,
+And, so deceived, think all my life was blessed.
+
+_Leo._ What if I add a little to my alms?
+If that would help, I could cast in a tear
+To your misfortunes.
+
+_Tor._ A tear! You have o'erbid all my past sufferings,
+And all my future too!
+
+_Leo._ Were I no queen--
+Or you of royal blood--
+
+_Tor._ What have I lost by my forefathers' fault!
+Why was not I the twentieth by descent
+From a long restive race of droning kings?
+Love! what a poor omnipotence hast thou,
+When gold and titles buy thee?
+
+_Leo._ [_Sighs._] Oh, my torture!--
+
+_Tor._ Might I presume,--but, oh, I dare not hope
+That sigh was added to your alms for me!
+
+_Leo._ I give you leave to guess, and not forbid you
+To make the best construction for your love:
+Be secret and discreet; these fairy favours
+Are lost, when not concealed[1].--provoke not Bertran.--
+Retire: I must no more but this,--Hope, Torrismond.           [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ She bids me hope; oh heavens, she pities me!
+And pity still foreruns approaching love,
+As lightning does the thunder! Tune your harps,
+Ye angels, to that sound; and thou, my heart,
+Make room to entertain thy flowing joy.
+Hence, all my griefs and every anxious care;
+One word, and one kind glance, can cure despair.              [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_A Chamber. A Table and Wine set out._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ This may hit; 'tis more than barely possible; for friars have
+free admittance into every house. This jacobin, whom I have sent to,
+is her confessor; and who can suspect a man of such reverence for a
+pimp? I'll try for once; I'll bribe him high; for commonly none love
+money better than they, who have made a vow of poverty.
+
+  _Enter Servant._
+
+_Serv._ There's a huge, fat, religious gentleman coming up, sir. He
+says he's but a friar, but he's big enough to be a pope; his gills are
+as rosy as a turkey cock's; his great belly walks in state before him,
+like an harbinger; and his gouty legs come limping after it: Never was
+such a ton of devotion seen.
+
+_Lor._ Bring him in, and vanish.                      [_Exit Servant._
+
+  _Enter Father_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Lor._ Welcome, father.
+
+_Dom._ Peace be here: I thought I had been sent for to a dying man; to
+have fitted him for another world.
+
+_Lor._ No, faith, father, I was never for taking such long journeys.
+Repose yourself, I beseech you, sir, if those spindle legs of yours
+will carry you to the next chair.
+
+_Dom._ I am old, I am infirm, I must confess, with fasting.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis a sign by your wan complexion, and your thin jowls,
+father. Come, to our better acquaintance:--here's a sovereign remedy
+for old age and sorrow.                                     [_Drinks._
+
+_Dom._ The looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do you reason.
+                                                            [_Drinks._
+
+_Lor._ Is it to your palate, father?
+
+_Dom._ Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll consider of it once
+again. [_Drinks._] It has a most delicious flavour with it. Gad
+forgive me, I have forgotten to drink your health, Son, I am not used
+to be so unmannerly.                                  [_Drinks again._
+
+_Lor._ No, I'll be sworn, by what I see of you, you are not:--To the
+bottom;--I warrant him a true church-man.--Now, father, to our
+business: 'tis agreeable to your calling; I do intend to do an act of
+charity.
+
+_Dom._ And I love to hear of charity; 'tis a comfortable subject.
+
+_Lor._ Being in the late battle, in great hazard of my life, I
+recommended my person to good Saint Dominick.
+
+_Dom._ You could not have pitched upon a better; he's a sure card; I
+never knew him fail his votaries.
+
+_Lor._ Troth, I also made bold to strike up a bargain with him, that,
+if I escaped with life and plunder, I would present some brother of
+his order with part of the booty taken from the infidels, to be
+employed in charitable uses.
+
+_Dom._ There you hit him; Saint Dominick loves charity exceedingly;
+that argument never fails with him.
+
+_Lor._ The spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of a farthing.
+To make short my story; I inquired among the jacobins for an almoner,
+and the general fame has pointed out your reverence as the worthiest
+man:--here are fifty good pieces in this purse.
+
+_Dom._ How, fifty pieces? 'tis too much, too much in conscience.
+
+_Lor._ Here, take them, father.
+
+_Dom._ No, in troth, I dare not; do not tempt me to break my vow of
+poverty.
+
+_Lor._ If you are modest, I must force you; for I am strongest.
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but, will you set
+your strength against a decrepit, poor, old man? [_Takes the Purse._]
+As I said, 'tis too great a bounty; but Saint Dominick shall owe you
+another scape: I'll put him in mind of you.
+
+_Lor._ If you please, father, we will not trouble him 'till the next
+battle. But you may do me a greater kindness, by conveying my prayers
+to a female saint.
+
+_Dom._ A female saint! good now, good now, how your devotions jump
+with mine! I always loved the female saints.
+
+_Lor._ I mean, a female, mortal, married-woman-saint: Look upon the
+superscription of this note; you know Don Gomez's wife.
+                                                [_Gives him a Letter._
+
+_Dom._ Who? Donna Elvira? I think I have some reason; I am her ghostly
+father.
+
+_Lor._ I have some business of importance with her, which I have
+communicated in this paper; but her husband is so horribly given to be
+jealous,--
+
+_Dom._ Ho, jealous? he's the very quintessence of jealousy; he keeps
+no male creature in his house; and from abroad he lets no man come
+near her.
+
+_Lor._ Excepting you, father.
+
+_Dom._ Me, I grant you; I am her director and her guide in spiritual
+affairs: But he has his humours with me too; for t'other day he called
+me false apostle.
+
+_Lor._ Did he so? that reflects upon you all; on my word, father, that
+touches your copy-hold. If you would do a meritorious action, you
+might revenge the church's quarrel.--My letter, father,--
+
+_Dom._ Well, so far as a letter, I will take upon me; for what can I
+refuse to a man so charitably given?
+
+_Lor._ If you bring an answer back, that purse in your hand has a
+twin-brother, as like him as ever he can look; there are fifty pieces
+lie dormant in it, for more charities.
+
+_Dom._ That must not be; not a farthing more, upon my priesthood.--But
+what may be the purport and meaning of this letter? that, I confess, a
+little troubles me.
+
+_Lor._ No harm, I warrant you.
+
+_Dom._ Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll take your word: my
+comfort is, I know not the contents; and so far I am blameless. But an
+answer you shall have; though not for the sake of your fifty pieces
+more: I have sworn not to take them; they shall not be altogether
+fifty. Your mistress--forgive me, that I should call her your
+mistress, I meant Elvira,--lives but at next door: I'll visit her
+immediately; but not a word more of the nine-and-forty pieces.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, I'll wait on you down stairs.--Fifty pounds for the
+postage of a letter! to send by the church is certainly the dearest
+road in Christendom.                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ _and_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Gom._ Henceforth I banish flesh and wine: I'll have none stirring
+within these walls these twelve months.
+
+_Elv._ I care not; the sooner I am starved, the sooner I am rid of
+wedlock. I shall learn the knack to fast o' days; you have used me to
+fasting nights already.
+
+_Gom._ How the gipsey answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious hilding.
+
+_Elv._ [_Crying._] But was ever poor innocent creature so hardly dealt
+with, for a little harmless chat?
+
+_Gom._ Oh, the impudence of this wicked sex! Lascivious dialogues are
+innocent with you!
+
+_Elv._ Was it such a crime to inquire how the battle passed?
+
+_Gom._ But that was not the business, gentlewoman: you were not asking
+news of a battle passed; you were engaging for a skirmish that was to
+come.
+
+_Elv._ An honest woman would be glad to hear, that her honour was
+safe, and her enemies were slain.
+
+_Gom._ [_In her tone._] And to ask, if he were wounded in your
+defence; and, in case he were, to offer yourself to be his
+chirurgeon;--then, you did not describe your husband to him, for a
+covetous, jealous, rich, old hunks.
+
+_Elv._ No, I need not; he describes himself sufficiently: but, in what
+dream did I do this?
+
+_Gom._ You walked in your sleep, with your eyes broad open, at
+noon-day; and dreamt you were talking to the foresaid purpose with one
+Colonel Hernando--
+
+_Elv._ Who, dear husband, who?
+
+_Gom._ What the devil have I said?--You would have farther
+information, would you?
+
+_Elv._ No; but my dear, little, old man, tell me now, that I may avoid
+him for your sake.
+
+_Gom._ Get you up into your chamber, cockatrice; and there immure
+yourself; be confined, I say, during our royal pleasure. But, first,
+down on your marrowbones, upon your allegiance, and make an
+acknowledgement of your offences; for I will have ample satisfaction.
+                                                    [_Pulls her down._
+
+_Elv._ I have done you no injury, and therefore I'll make you no
+submission: but I'll complain to my ghostly father.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, there's your remedy; when you receive condign punishment,
+you run with open mouth to your confessor; that parcel of holy guts
+and garbadge: he must chuckle you and moan you; but I'll rid my hands
+of his ghostly authority one day, [_Enter_ DOMINICK.] and make him
+know he's the son of a--[_Sees him._] So;--no sooner conjure, but the
+devil's in the circle.
+
+_Dom._ Son of a what, Don Gomez?
+
+_Gom._ Why, a son of a church; I hope there's no harm in that, father?
+
+_Dom._ I will lay up your words for you, till time shall serve; and
+to-morrow I enjoin you to fast, for penance.
+
+_Gom._ There's no harm in that; she shall fast too: fasting saves
+money.                                                       [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ [_To_ ELVIRA.] What was the reason that I found you upon your
+knees, in that unseemly posture?
+
+_Gom._ O horrible! to find a woman upon her knees, he says, is an
+unseemly posture; there's a priest for you!                  [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ [_To_ DOM.] I wish, father, you would give me an opportunity of
+entertaining you in private: I have somewhat upon my spirits that
+presses me exceedingly.
+
+_Dom._ This goes well: [_Aside._] Gomez, stand you at a
+distance,--farther yet,--stand out of ear shot;--I have somewhat to
+say to your wife in private.
+
+_Gom._ Was ever man thus priest-ridden? would the steeple of his
+church were in his belly: I am sure there's room for it.     [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ I am ashamed to acknowledge my infirmities; but you have been
+always an indulgent father, and therefore I will venture to--and yet I
+dare not!--
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you are bashful;--if you keep your wound from the
+knowledge of your surgeon,--
+
+_Elv._ You know my husband is a man in years; but he's my husband, and
+therefore I shall be silent; but his humours are more intolerable than
+his age: he's grown so froward, so covetous, and so jealous, that he
+has turned my heart quite from him; and, if I durst confess it, has
+forced me to cast my affections on another man.
+
+_Dom._ Good:--hold, hold; I meant abominable.--Pray heaven this may be
+my colonel!                                                  [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ I have seen this man, father, and have encouraged his
+addresses; he's a young gentleman, a soldier, of a most winning
+carriage: and what his courtship may produce at last, I know not; but
+I am afraid of my own frailty.
+
+_Dom._ 'Tis he, for certain;--she has saved the credit of my function,
+by speaking first; now must I take gravity upon me.          [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ This whispering bodes me no good, for certain; but he has me so
+plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt him.      [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ Daughter, daughter, do you remember your matrimonial vow?
+
+_Elv._ Yes, to my sorrow, father, I do remember it; a miserable woman
+it has made me: but you know, father, a marriage-vow is but a thing of
+course, which all women take when they would get a husband.
+
+_Dom._ A vow is a very solemn thing; and 'tis good to keep it: but,
+notwithstanding, it may be broken upon some occasions. Have you
+striven with all your might against this frailty?
+
+_Elv._ Yes, I have striven; but I found it was against the stream.
+Love, you know, father, is a great vow-maker; but he's a greater
+vow-breaker.
+
+_Dom._ 'Tis your duty to strive always; but, notwithstanding, when we
+have done our utmost, it extenuates the sin.
+
+_Gom._ I can hold no longer.--Now, gentlewoman, you are confessing
+your enormities; I know it, by that hypocritical downcast
+look:--enjoin her to sit bare upon a bed of nettles, father; you can
+do no less, in conscience.
+
+_Dom._ Hold your peace; are you growing malapert? will you force me to
+make use of my authority? your wife's a well disposed and a virtuous
+lady; I say it, _In verbo sacerdotis._
+
+_Elv._ I know not what to do, father; I find myself in a most
+desperate condition; and so is the colonel, for love of me.
+
+_Dom._ The colonel, say you! I wish it be not the same young gentleman
+I know. 'Tis a gallant young man, I must confess, worthy of any lady's
+love in Christendom,--in a lawful way, I mean: of such a charming
+behaviour, so bewitching to a woman's eye, and, furthermore, so
+charitably given; by all good tokens, this must be my colonel
+Hernando.
+
+_Elv._ Ay, and my colonel too, father:--I am overjoyed!--and are you
+then acquainted with him?
+
+_Dom._ Acquainted with him! why, he haunts me up and down; and, I am
+afraid, it is for love of you; for he pressed a letter upon me, within
+this hour, to deliver to you. I confess I received it, lest he should
+send it by some other; but with full resolution never to put it into
+your hands.
+
+_Elv._ Oh, dear father, let me have it, or I shall die!
+
+_Gom._ Whispering still! A pox of your close committee! I'll listen,
+I'm resolved.                                        [_Steals nearer._
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you are obstinately bent to see it, use your
+discretion; but, for my part, I wash my hands of it.--What makes you
+listening there? get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked
+eaves dropper.
+
+_Elv._ I'll kneel down, father, as if I were taking absolution, if
+you'll but please to stand before me.
+
+_Dom._ At your peril be it then. I have told you the ill consequences;
+_et liberavi animam meam._ Your reputation is in danger, to say
+nothing of your soul. Notwithstanding, when the spiritual means have
+been applied, and fail, in that case the carnal may be used. You are a
+tender child, you are, and must not be put into despair; your heart is
+as soft and melting as your hand.  [_He strokes her face, takes her by
+                                    the hand, and gives the letter._
+
+_Gom._ Hold, hold, father, you go beyond your commission; palming is
+always held foul play amongst gamesters.
+
+_Dom._ Thus good intentions are misconstrued by wicked men; you will
+never be warned till you are excommunicated.
+
+_Gom._ Ah, devil on him; there's his hold! If there were no more in
+excommunication than the church's censure, a wise man would lick his
+conscience whole with a wet finger; but, if I am excommunicated, I am
+outlawed, and then there is no calling in my money.          [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ [_Rising._] I have read the note, father, and will send him an
+answer immediately; for I know his lodgings by his letter.
+
+_Dom._ I understand it not, for my part; but I wish your intentions be
+honest. Remember, that adultery, though it be a silent sin, yet it is
+a crying sin also. Nevertheless, if you believe absolutely he will
+die, unless you pity him; to save a man's life is a point of charity;
+and actions of charity do alleviate, as I may say, and take off from
+the mortality of the sin. Farewell, daughter.--Gomez, cherish your
+virtuous wife; and thereupon I give you my benediction.      [_Going._
+
+_Gom._ Stay; I'll conduct you to the door,--that I may be sure you
+steal nothing by the way. Friars wear not their long sleeves for
+nothing.--Oh, 'tis a Judas Iscariot.          [_Exit after the Friar._
+
+_Elv._ This friar is a comfortable man! He will understand nothing of
+the business, and yet does it all.
+  Pray, wives and virgins, at your time of need,
+  For a true guide, of my good father's breed.                [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Street._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO _in a Friars Habit, meeting_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Lor._ Father Dominick, father Dominick; why in such haste, man?
+
+_Dom._ It should seem, a brother of our order.
+
+_Lor._ No, faith, I am only your brother in iniquity; my holiness,
+like yours, is mere outside.
+
+_Dom._ What! my noble colonel in metamorphosis! On what occasion are
+you transformed?
+
+_Lor._ Love, almighty love; that, which turned Jupiter into a
+town-bull, has transformed me into a friar. I have had a letter from
+Elvira, in answer to that I sent by you.
+
+_Dom._ You see I have delivered my message faithfully; I am a friar of
+honour, where I am engaged.
+
+_Lor._ O, I understand your hint; the other fifty pieces are ready to
+be condemned to charity.
+
+_Dom._ But this habit, son! this habit!
+
+_Lor._ It is a habit, that, in all ages, has been friendly to
+fornication: you have begun the design in this clothing, and I'll try
+to accomplish it. The husband is absent, that evil counsellor is
+removed and the sovereign is graciously disposed to hear my
+grievances.
+
+_Dom._ Go to, go to; I find good counsel is but thrown away upon you.
+Fare you well, fare you well, son! Ah--
+
+_Lor._ How! will you turn recreant at the last cast? You must along to
+countenance my undertaking: we are at the door, man.
+
+_Dom._ Well, I have thought on't, and I will not go.
+
+_Lor._ You may stay, father, but no fifty pounds without it; that was
+only promised in the bond: "But the condition of this obligation is
+such, that if the above-named father, father Dominick, do not well and
+faithfully perform--"
+
+_Dom._ Now I better think on't, I will bear you company; for the
+reverence of my presence may be a curb to your exorbitancies.
+
+_Lor._ Lead up your myrmidons, and enter.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--ELVIRA'S _Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Elv._ He'll come, that's certain; young appetites are sharp, and
+seldom need twice bidding to such a banquet. Well, if I prove
+frail,--as I hope I shall not till I have compassed my design,--never
+woman had such a husband to provoke her, such a lover to allure her,
+or such a confessor to absolve her. Of what am I afraid, then? not my
+conscience, that's safe enough; my ghostly father has given it a dose
+of church-opium, to lull it. Well, for soothing sin, I'll say that for
+him, he's a chaplain for any court in Christendom.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO _and_ DOMINICK.
+
+O, father Dominick, what news?--How, a companion with you! What game
+have you in hand, that you hunt in couples?
+
+_Lor._ [_Lifting up his Hood._] I'll shew you that immediately.
+
+_Elv._ O, my love!
+
+_Lor._ My life!
+
+_Elv._ My soul!                                       [_They embrace._
+
+_Dom._ I am taken on the sudden with a grievous swimming in my head,
+and such a mist before my eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.
+
+_Elv._ Stay, and I'll fetch you some comfortable water.
+
+_Dom._ No, no; nothing but the open air will do me good. I'll take a
+turn in your garden; but remember that I trust you both, and do not
+wrong my good opinion of you.                        [_Exit_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Elv._ This is certainly the dust of gold which you have thrown in the
+good man's eyes, that on the sudden he cannot see; for my mind
+misgives me, this sickness of his is but apocryphal.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis no qualm of conscience, I'll be sworn. You see, madam, it
+is interest governs all the world. He preaches against sin; why?
+because he gets by it: He holds his tongue; why? because so much more
+is bidden for his silence.
+
+_Elv._ And so much for the friar.
+
+_Lor._ Oh, those eyes of yours reproach me justly, that I neglect the
+subject which brought me hither.
+
+_Elv._ Do you consider the hazard I have run to see you here? if you
+do, methinks it should inform you, that I love not at a common rate.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, if you talk of considering, let us consider why we are
+alone. Do you think the friar left us together to tell beads? Love is
+a kind of penurious god, very niggardly of his opportunities: he must
+be watched like a hard-hearted treasurer; for he bolts out on the
+sudden, and, if you take him not in the nick, he vanishes in a
+twinkling.
+
+_Elv._ Why do you make such haste to have done loving me? You men are
+all like watches, wound up for striking twelve immediately; but after
+you are satisfied, the very next that follows, is the solitary sound
+of a single--one!
+
+_Lor._ How, madam! do you invite me to a feast, and then preach
+abstinence?
+
+_Elv._ No, I invite you to a feast where the dishes are served up in
+order: you are for making a hasty meal, and for chopping up your
+entertainment, like a hungry clown. Trust my management, good colonel,
+and call not for your desert too soon: believe me, that which comes
+last, as it is the sweetest, so it cloys the soonest.
+
+_Lor._ I perceive, madam, by your holding me at this distance, that
+there is somewhat you expect from me: what am I to undertake, or
+suffer, ere I can be happy?
+
+_Elv._ I must first be satisfied, that you love me.
+
+_Lor._ By all that's holy! by these dear eyes!--
+
+_Elv._ Spare your oaths and protestations; I know you gallants of the
+time have a mint at your tongue's end to coin them.
+
+_Lor._ You know you cannot marry me; but, by heavens, if you were in a
+condition--
+
+_Elv._ Then you would not be so prodigal of your promises, but have
+the fear of matrimony before your eyes. In few words, if you love me,
+as you profess, deliver me from this bondage, take me out of Egypt,
+and I'll wander with you as far as earth, and seas, and love, can
+carry us.
+
+_Lor._ I never was out at a mad frolic, though this is the maddest I
+ever undertook. Have with you, lady mine; I take you at your word; and
+if you are for a merry jaunt, I'll try for once who can foot it
+farthest. There are hedges in summer, and barns in winter, to be
+found; I with my knapsack, and you with your bottle at your back: we
+will leave honour to madmen, and riches to knaves; and travel till we
+come to' the ridge of the world, and then drop together into the next.
+
+_Elv._ Give me your hand, and strike a bargain.
+                                  [_He takes her hand, and kisses it._
+
+_Lor._ In sign and token whereof, the parties interchangeably, and so
+forth.--When should I be weary of sealing upon this soft wax?
+
+_Elv._ O heavens! I hear my husband's voice.
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Gom._ Where are you, gentlewoman? there's something in the wind, I'm
+sure, because your woman would have run up stairs before me; but I
+have secured her below, with a gag in her chaps.--Now, in the devil's
+name, what makes this friar here again? I do not like these frequent
+conjunctions of the flesh and spirit; they are boding.
+
+_Elv._ Go hence, good father; my husband, you see, is in an ill
+humour, and I would not have you witness of his folly.
+                                                     [LORENZO _going._
+
+_Gom._ [_Running to the door._] By your reverence's favour, hold a
+little; I must examine you something better, before you go.--Heyday!
+who have we here? Father Dominick is shrunk in the wetting two yards
+and a half about the belly. What are become of those two timber logs,
+that he used to wear for legs, that stood strutting like the two black
+posts before a door? I am afraid some bad body has been setting him
+over a fire in a great cauldron, and boiled him down half the
+quantity, for a recipe. This is no father Dominick, no huge overgrown
+abbey-lubber; this is but a diminutive sucking friar. As sure as a
+gun, now, father Dominick has been spawning this young slender
+anti-christ.
+
+_Elv._ He will be found, there's no prevention.              [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Why does he not speak? What! is the friar possessed with a dumb
+devil? if he be, I shall make bold to conjure him.
+
+_Elv._ He is but a novice in his order, and is enjoined silence for a
+penance.
+
+_Gom._ A novice, quotha! you would make a novice of me, too, if you
+could. But what was his business here? answer me that, gentlewoman,
+answer me that.
+
+_Elv._ What should it be, but to give me some spiritual instructions.
+
+_Gom._ Very good; and you are like to edify much from a dumb preacher.
+This will not pass, I must examine the contents of him a little
+closer.--O thou confessor, confess who thou art, or thou art no friar
+of this world!--[_He comes to_ LORENZO, _who struggles with him; his
+Habit flies open, and discovers a Sword;_ GOMEZ _starts back._]--As I
+live, this is a manifest member of the church militant.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] I am discovered; now, impudence be my refuge.--Yes,
+faith, 'tis I, honest Gomez; thou seest I use thee like a friend; this
+is a familiar visit.
+
+_Gom._ What! colonel Hernando turned a friar! who could have suspected
+you of so much godliness?
+
+_Lor._ Even as thou seest, I make bold here.
+
+_Gom._ A very frank manner of proceeding; but I do not wonder at your
+visit, after so friendly an invitation as I made you. Marry, I hope
+you will excuse the blunderbusses for not being in readiness to salute
+you; but let me know your hour, and all shall be mended another time.
+
+_Lor._ Hang it, I hate such ripping up of old unkindness: I was upon
+the frolic this evening, and came to visit thee in masquerade.
+
+_Gom._ Very likely; and not finding me at home, you were forced to toy
+away an hour with my wife, or so.
+
+_Lor._ Right; thou speak'st my very soul.
+
+_Gom._ Why, am not I a friend, then, to help thee out? you would have
+been fumbling half an hour for this excuse. But, as I remember, you
+promised to storm my citadel, and bring your regiment of red locusts
+upon me for free quarters: I find, colonel, by your habit, there are
+black locusts in the world, as well as red.
+
+_Elv._ When comes my share of the reckoning to be called for?
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Lor._ Give me thy hand; thou art the honestest, kind man!--I was
+resolved I would not out of thy house till I had seen thee.
+
+_Gom._ No, in my conscience, if I had staid abroad till midnight. But,
+colonel, you and I shall talk in another tone hereafter; I mean, in
+cold friendship, at a bar before a judge, by the way of plaintiff and
+defendant. Your excuses want some grains to make them current: Hum,
+and ha, will not do the business.--There's a modest lady of your
+acquaintance, she has so much grace to make none at all, but silently
+to confess the power of dame Nature working in her body to youthful
+appetite.
+
+_Elv._ How he got in I know not, unless it were by virtue of his
+habit.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, ay, the virtues of that habit are known abundantly.
+
+_Elv._ I could not hinder his entrance, for he took me unprovided.
+
+_Gom._ To resist him.
+
+_Elv._ I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter of an hour.
+
+_Gom._ And a quarter of that time would have served the turn. O thou
+epitome of thy virtuous sex! Madam Messalina the second, retire to thy
+apartment: I have an assignation there to make with thee.
+
+_Elv._ I am all obedience.                             [_Exit_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Lor._ I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought you. We may meet
+before we come to the bar, we may; and our differences may be decided
+by other weapons than by lawyers' tongues. In the mean time, no ill
+treatment of your wife, as you hope to die a natural death, and go to
+hell in your bed. Bilbo is the word, remember that and tremble.--
+                                                    [_He's going out._
+
+  _Enter_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Dom._ Where is this naughty couple? where are you, in the name of
+goodness? My mind misgave me, and I durst trust you no longer with
+yourselves: Here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your next
+confession.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] The devil is punctual, I see; he has paid me the
+shame he owed me; and now the friar is coming in for his part too.
+
+_Dom._ [_Seeing_ GOM.] Bless my eyes! what do I see?
+
+_Gom._ Why, you see a cuckold of this honest gentleman's making; I
+thank him for his pains.
+
+_Dom._ I confess, I am astonished!
+
+_Gom._ What, at a cuckoldom of your own contrivance! your head-piece,
+and his limbs, have done my business. Nay, do not look so strangely;
+remember your own words,--Here will be fine work at your next
+confession. What naughty couple were they whom you durst not trust
+together any longer?--when the hypocritical rogue had trusted them a
+full quarter of an hour;--and, by the way, horns will sprout in less
+time than mushrooms.
+
+_Dom._ Beware how you accuse one of my order upon light suspicions.
+The naughty couple, that I meant, were your wife and you, whom I left
+together with great animosities on both sides. Now, that was the
+occasion,--mark me, Gomez,--that I thought it convenient to return
+again, and not to trust your enraged spirits too long together. You
+might have broken out into revilings and matrimonial warfare, which
+are sins; and new sins make work for new confessions.
+
+_Lor._ Well said, i'faith, friar; thou art come off thyself, but poor
+I am left in limbo.                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Angle in some other ford, good father, you shall catch no
+gudgeons here. Look upon the prisoner at the bar, friar, and inform
+the court what you know concerning him; he is arraigned here by the
+name of colonel Hernando.
+
+_Dom._ What colonel do you mean, Gomez? I see no man but a reverend
+brother of our order, whose profession I honour, but whose person I
+know not, as I hope for paradise.
+
+_Gom._ No, you are not acquainted with him, the more's the pity; you
+do not know him, under this disguise, for the greatest cuckold-maker
+in all Spain.
+
+_Dom._ O impudence! O rogue! O villain! Nay, if he be such a man, my
+righteous spirit rises at him! Does he put on holy garments, for a
+cover-shame of lewdness?
+
+_Gom._ Yes, and he's in the right on't, father: when a swinging sin is
+to be committed, nothing will cover it so close as a friar's hood; for
+there the devil plays at bo-peep,--puts out his horns to do a
+mischief, and then shrinks them back for safety, like a snail into her
+shell.
+
+_Lor._ It's best marching off, while I can retreat with honour.
+There's no trusting this friar's conscience; he has renounced me
+already more heartily than e'er he did the devil, and is in a fair way
+to prosecute me for putting on these holy robes. This is the old
+church-trick; the clergy is ever at the bottom of the plot, but they
+are wise enough to slip their own necks out of the collar, and leave
+the laity to be fairly hanged for it.               [_Aside and exit._
+
+_Gom._ Follow your leader, friar; your colonel is trooped off, but he
+had not gone so easily, if I durst have trusted you in the house
+behind me. Gather up your gouty legs, I say, and rid my house of that
+huge body of divinity.
+
+_Dom._ I expect some judgment should fall upon you, for your want of
+reverence to your spiritual director: Slander, covetousness, and
+jealousy, will weigh thee down.
+
+_Gom._ Put pride, hypocrisy, and gluttony into your scale, father, and
+you shall weigh against me: Nay, an sins come to be divided once, the
+clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.
+
+_Dom._ How dar'st thou reproach the tribe of Levi?
+
+_Gom._ Marry, because you make us laymen of the tribe of Issachar. You
+make asses of us, to bear your burthens. When we are young, you put
+panniers upon us with your church-discipline; and when we are grown
+up, you load us with a wife: after that, you procure for other men,
+and then you load our wives too. A fine phrase you have amongst you to
+draw us into marriage, you call it--_settling of a man;_ just as when
+a fellow has got a sound knock upon the head, they say--_he's
+settled:_ Marriage is a settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in
+the world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up the venom of
+the earth; but I never knew what a friar was good for, till your
+pimping shewed me.
+
+_Dom._ Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer; thy offences be
+upon thy head.
+
+_Gom._ I believe there are some offences there of your planting.
+[_Exit_ DOM.] Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set
+snares in their warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet--
+  Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,
+  For holy vermin that in houses prey.                    [_Exit_ GOM.
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A Bed Chamber._
+
+  LEONORA, _and_ TERESA.
+
+_Ter._ You are not what you were, since yesterday;
+Your food forsakes you, and your needful rest;
+You pine, you languish, love to be alone;
+Think much, speak little, and, in speaking, sigh:
+When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet;
+But, when you see him not, you are in pain.
+
+_Leo._ O let them never love, who never tried!
+They brought a paper to me to be signed;
+Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name,
+And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.
+I went to bed, and to myself I thought
+That I would think on Torrismond no more;
+Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him.
+I turned, and tried each corner of my bed,
+To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost.
+Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked,
+And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went;
+There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts,
+I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,
+And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,--
+There fought my Torrismond.
+
+_Ter._ What hinders you to take the man you love?
+The people will be glad, the soldiers shout,
+And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.
+
+_Leo._ I fear to try new love,
+As boys to venture on the unknown ice,
+That crackles underneath them while they slide.
+Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!
+Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I stand
+Altering, like one that waits an ague fit;
+And yet, would this were all!
+
+_Ter._ What fear you more?
+
+_Leo._ I am ashamed to say, 'tis but a fancy.
+At break of day, when dreams, they say, are true,
+A drowzy slumber, rather than a sleep,
+Seized on my senses, with long watching worn:
+Methought I stood on a wide river's bank,
+Which I must needs o'erpass, but knew not how;
+When, on a sudden, Torrismond appeared,
+Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er,
+Leaping and bounding on the billows' heads,
+'Till safely we had reached the farther shore.
+
+_Ter._ This dream portends some ill which you shall 'scape.
+Would you see fairer visions, take this night
+Your Torrismond within your arms to sleep;
+And, to that end, invent some apt pretence
+To break with Bertran: 'twould be better yet,
+Could you provoke him to give you the occasion,
+And then, to throw him off.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN _at a distance._
+
+_Leo._ My stars have sent him;
+For, see, he comes. How gloomily he looks!
+If he, as I suspect, have found my love,
+His jealousy will furnish him with fury,
+And me with means, to part.
+
+_Bert._ [_Aside._]
+Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her false?
+If she be false, 'tis what she most desires.
+My genius whispers me,--Be cautious, Bertran!
+Thou walkest as on a narrow mountain's neck,
+A dreadful height, with scanty room to tread.
+
+_Leo._ What business have you at the court, my lord?
+
+_Bert._ What business, madam?
+
+_Leo._ Yes, my lord, what business?
+'Tis somewhat, sure, of weighty consequence,
+That brings you here so often, and unsent for.
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis what I feared; her words are cold enough,
+To freeze a man to death. [_Aside._]--May I presume
+To speak, and to complain?
+
+_Leo._ They, who complain to princes, think them tame:
+What bull dares bellow, or what sheep dares bleat,
+Within the lion's den?
+
+_Bert._ Yet men are suffered to put heaven in mind
+Of promised blessings; for they then are debts.
+
+_Leo._ My lord, heaven knows its own time when to give;
+But you, it seems, charge me with breach of faith!
+
+_Bert._ I hope I need not, madam;
+But as, when men in sickness lingering lie,
+They count the tedious hours by months and years,--
+So, every day deferred, to dying lovers,
+Is a whole age of pain!
+
+_Leo._ What if I ne'er consent to make you mine?
+My father's promise ties me not to time;
+And bonds, without a date, they say, are void.
+
+_Bert._ Far be it from me to believe you bound;
+Love is the freest motion of our minds:
+O could you see into my secret soul,
+There might you read your own dominion doubled,
+Both as a queen and mistress. If you leave me,
+Know I can die, but dare not be displeased.
+
+_Leo._ Sure you affect stupidity, my lord;
+Or give me cause to think, that, when you lost
+Three battles to the Moors, you coldly stood
+As unconcerned as now.
+
+_Bert._ I did my best;
+Fate was not in my power.
+
+_Leo._ And, with the like tame gravity, you saw
+A raw young warrior take your baffled work,
+And end it at a blow.
+
+_Bert._ I humbly take my leave; but they, who blast
+Your good opinion of me, may have cause
+To know, I am no coward.                               [_He is going._
+
+_Leo._ Bertran, stay.
+[_Aside._] This may produce some dismal consequence
+To him, whom dearer than my life I love.
+[_To him._] Have I not managed my contrivance well,
+To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?
+
+_Bert._ Then, was it but a trial?
+Methinks I start as from some dreadful dream,
+And often ask myself if yet I wake.--
+This turn's too quick to be without design;
+I'll sound the bottom of't, ere I believe.                   [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ I find your love, and would reward it too,
+But anxious fears solicit my weak breast.
+I fear my people's faith;
+That hot-mouthed beast, that bears against the curb,
+Hard to be broken even by lawful kings,
+But harder by usurpers.
+Judge then, my lord, with all these cares opprest,
+If I can think of love.
+
+_Bert._ Believe me, madam,
+These jealousies, however large they spread,
+Have but one root, the old imprisoned king;
+Whose lenity first pleased the gaping crowd;
+But when long tried, and found supinely good,
+Like Æsop's Log, they leapt upon his back.
+Your father knew them well; and, when he mounted,
+He reined them strongly, and he spurred them hard:
+And, but he durst not do it all at once,
+He had not left alive this patient saint,
+This anvil of affronts, but sent him hence
+To hold a peaceful branch of palm above,
+And hymn it in the quire.
+
+_Leo._ You've hit upon the very string, which, touched.
+Echoes the sound, and jars within my soul;--
+There lies my grief.
+
+_Bert._ So long as there's a head,
+Thither will all the mounting spirits fly;
+Lop that but off, and then--
+
+_Leo._ My virtue shrinks from such an horrid act.
+
+_Bert._ This 'tis to have a virtue out of season.
+Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue;
+But kings mistake its timing, and are mild,
+When manly courage bids them be severe:
+Better be cruel once, than anxious ever.
+Remove this threatening danger from your crown,
+And then securely take the man you love.
+
+_Leo._ [_Walking aside._]
+Ha! let me think of that:--The man I love?
+'Tis true, this murder is the only means,
+That can secure my throne to Torrismond:
+Nay, more, this execution, done by Bertran,
+Makes him the object of the people's hate.
+
+_Bert._ The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ How eloquent is mischief to persuade!
+Few are so wicked, as to take delight
+In crimes unprofitable, nor do I:
+If then I break divine and human laws,
+No bribe but love could gain so bad a cause.                 [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ You answer nothing.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis of deep concernment,
+And I a woman, ignorant and weak:
+I leave it all to you; think, what you do,
+You do for him I love.
+
+_Bert._ For him she loves?
+She named not me; that may be Torrismond,
+Whom she has thrice in private seen this day;
+Then I am fairly caught in my own snare.
+I'll think again. [_Aside._]--Madam, it shall be done;
+And mine be all the blame.                                    [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ O, that it were! I would not do this crime,
+And yet, like heaven, permit it to be done.
+The priesthood grossly cheat us with free-will:
+Will to do what--but what heaven first decreed?
+Our actions then are neither good nor ill,
+Since from eternal causes they proceed;
+Our passions,--fear and anger, love and hate,--
+Mere senseless engines that are moved by fate;
+Like ships on stormy seas, without a guide,
+Tost by the winds, and driven by the tide.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Am I not rudely bold, and press too often
+Into your presence, madam? If I am--
+
+_Leo._ No more, lest I should chide you for your stay:
+Where have you been? and how could you suppose,
+That I could live these two long hours without you?
+
+_Tor._ O words, to charm an angel from his orb!
+Welcome, as kindly showers to long-parched earth!
+But I have been in such a dismal place,
+Where joy ne'er enters, which the sun ne'er cheers,
+Bound in with darkness, overspread with damps;
+Where I have seen (if I could say I saw)
+The good old king, majestic in his bonds,
+And, 'midst his griefs, most venerably great:
+By a dim winking lamp, which feebly broke
+The gloomy vapours, he lay stretched along
+Upon the unwholesome earth, his eyes fixed upward;
+And ever and anon a silent tear
+Stole down, and trickled from his hoary beard.
+
+_Leo._ O heaven, what have I done!--my gentle love,
+Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake,
+Cast off these fearful melancholy thoughts.
+
+_Tor._ My heart is withered at that piteous sight,
+As early blossoms are with eastern blasts:
+He sent for me, and, while I raised his head,
+He threw his aged arms about my neck;
+And, seeing that I wept, he pressed me close:
+So, leaning cheek to cheek, and eyes to eyes,
+We mingled tears in a dumb scene of sorrow.
+
+_Leo._ Forbear; you know not how you wound my soul.
+
+_Tor._ Can you have grief, and not have pity too?
+He told me,--when my father did return,
+He had a wond'rous secret to disclose:
+He kissed me, blessed me, nay--he called me son;
+He praised my courage; prayed for my success:
+He was so true a father of his country,
+To thank me, for defending even his foes,
+Because they were his subjects.
+
+_Leo._ If they be,--then what am I?
+
+_Tor._ The sovereign of my soul, my earthly heaven.
+
+_Leo._ And not your queen?
+
+_Tor._ You are so beautiful,
+So wond'rous fair, you justify rebellion;
+As if that faultless face could make no sin,
+But heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.
+
+_Leo._ The king must die,--he must, my Torrismond,
+Though pity softly plead within my soul;
+Yet he must die, that I may make you great,
+And give a crown in dowry with my love.
+
+_Tor._ Perish that crown--on any head but yours!
+O, recollect your thoughts!
+Shake not his hour-glass, when his hasty sand
+Is ebbing to the last:
+A little longer, yet a little longer,
+And nature drops him down, without your sin;
+Like mellow fruit, without a winter storm.
+
+_Leo._ Let me but do this one injustice more.
+His doom is past, and, for your sake, he dies.
+
+_Tor._ Would you, for me, have done so ill an act,
+And will not do a good one!
+Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven,
+O spare this great, this good, this aged king;
+And spare your soul the crime!
+
+_Leo._ The crime's not mine;
+'Twas first proposed, and must be done, by Bertran,
+Fed with false hopes to gain my crown and me;
+I, to enhance his ruin, gave no leave,
+But barely bade him think, and then resolve.
+
+_Tor._ In not forbidding, you command the crime:
+Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day;
+How will you tremble, there to stand exposed,
+And foremost, in the rank of guilty ghosts,
+That must be doomed for murder! think on murder:
+That troop is placed apart from common crimes;
+The damned themselves start wide, and shun that band,
+As far more black, and more forlorn than they.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis terrible! it shakes, it staggers me;
+I knew this truth, but I repelled that thought.
+Sure there is none, but fears a future state;
+And, when the most obdurate swear they do not,
+Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA.
+
+Send speedily to Bertran; charge him strictly
+Not to proceed, but wait my farther pleasure.
+
+_Ter._ Madam, he sends to tell you, 'tis performed.           [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ Ten thousand plagues consume him! furies drag him,
+Fiends tear him! blasted be the arm that struck,
+The tongue that ordered!--only she be spared,
+That hindered not the deed! O, where was then
+The power, that guards the sacred lives of kings?
+Why slept the lightning and the thunder-bolts,
+Or bent their idle rage on fields and trees,
+When vengeance called them here?
+
+_Leo._ Sleep that thought too;
+'Tis done, and, since 'tis done, 'tis past recal;
+And, since 'tis past recal, must be forgotten.
+
+_Tor._ O, never, never, shall it be forgotten!
+High heaven will not forget it; after-ages
+Shall with a fearful curse remember ours;
+And blood shall never leave the nation more!
+
+_Leo._ His body shall be royally interred,
+And the last funeral-pomps adorn his hearse;
+I will myself (as I have cause too just,)
+Be the chief mourner at his obsequies;
+And yearly fix on the revolving day
+The solemn marks of mourning, to atone,
+And expiate my offence.
+
+_Tor._ Nothing can,
+But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head,--
+Which, dear departed spirit, here I vow.
+
+_Leo._ Here end our sorrows, and begin our joys:
+Love calls, my Torrismond; though hate has raged,
+And ruled the day, yet love will rule the night.
+The spiteful stars have shed their venom down,
+And now the peaceful planets take their turn.
+This deed of Bertran's has removed all fears,
+And given me just occasion to refuse him.
+What hinders now, but that the holy priest
+In secret join our mutual vows? and then
+This night, this happy night, is yours and mine.
+
+_Tor._ Be still my sorrows, and be loud my joys.
+Fly to the utmost circles of the sea,
+Thou furious tempest, that hast tossed my mind,
+And leave no thought, but Leonora there.--
+What's this I feel, a boding in my soul,
+As if this day were fatal? be it so;
+Fate shall but have the leavings of my love:
+My joys are gloomy, but withal are great.
+The lion, though he sees the toils are set,
+Yet, pinched with raging hunger, scowers away,
+Hunts in the face of danger all the day;
+At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his prey.     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_Before Gomez's Door._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, DOMINICK, _and two Soldiers at a distance._
+
+_Dom._ I'll not wag an ace farther: the whole world shall not bribe me
+to it; for my conscience will digest these gross enormities no longer.
+
+_Lor._ How, thy conscience not digest them! There is ne'er a friar in
+Spain can shew a conscience, that comes near it for digestion. It
+digested pimping, when I sent thee with my letter; and it digested
+perjury, when thou swor'st thou didst not know me: I am sure it has
+digested me fifty pounds, of as hard gold as is in all Barbary.
+Pr'ythee, why shouldest thou discourage fornication, when thou knowest
+thou lovest a sweet young girl?
+
+_Dom._ Away, away; I do not love them;--pah; no,--[_spits._] I do not
+love a pretty girl--you are so waggish!--              [_Spits again._
+
+_Lor._ Why thy mouth waters at the very mention of them.
+
+_Dom._ You take a mighty pleasure in defamation, colonel; but I wonder
+what you find in running restless up and down, breaking your brains,
+emptying your purse, and wearing out your body, with hunting after
+unlawful game.
+
+_Lor._ Why there's the satisfaction on't.
+
+_Dom._ This incontinency may proceed to adultery, and adultery to
+murder, and murder to hanging; and there's the satisfaction on't.
+
+_Lor._ I'll not hang alone, friar; I'm resolved to peach thee before
+thy superiors, for what thou hast done already.
+
+_Dom._ I'm resolved to forswear it, if you do. Let me advise you
+better, colonel, than to accuse a church-man to a church-man; in the
+common cause we are all of a piece; we hang together.
+
+_Lor._ If you don't, it were no matter if you did.           [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you talk of peaching, I'll peach first, and see whose
+oath will be believed; I'll trounce you for offering to corrupt my
+honesty, and bribe my conscience: you shall be summoned by an host of
+parators; you shall be sentenced in the spiritual court; you shall be
+excommunicated; you shall be outlawed;--and--
+                    [_Here_ LORENZO _takes a purse, and plays with it,
+                     and at last lets the purse fall chinking on the
+                     ground, which the Friar eyes._
+[_In another tone._] I say, a man might do this now, if he were
+maliciously disposed, and had a mind to bring matters to extremity:
+but, considering that you are my friend, a person of honour, and a
+worthy good charitable man, I would rather die a thousand deaths than
+disoblige you.         [LORENZO _takes up the purse, and pours it into
+                        the Friar's sleeve._
+Nay, good sir;--nay, dear colonel;--O lord, sir, what are you doing
+now! I profess this must not be: without this I would have served you
+to the utter-most; pray command me.--A jealous, foul-mouthed rogue
+this Gomez is; I saw how he used you, and you marked how he used me
+too. O he's a bitter man; but we'll join our forces; ah, shall we,
+colonel? we'll be revenged on him with a witness.
+
+_Lor._ But how shall I send her word to be ready at the door? for I
+must reveal it in confession to you, that I mean to carry her away
+this evening, by the help of these two soldiers. I know Gomez suspects
+you, and you will hardly gain admittance.
+
+_Dom._ Let me alone; I fear him not. I am armed with the authority of
+my clothing: yonder I see him keeping sentry at his door:--have you
+never seen a citizen, in a cold morning, clapping his sides, and
+walking forward and backward, a mighty pace before his shop? but I'll
+gain the pass, in spite of his suspicion; stand you aside, and do but
+mark how I accost him.
+
+_Lor._ If he meet with a repulse, we must throw off the fox's skin,
+and put on the lion's.--Come, gentlemen, you'll stand by me?
+
+_Sol._ Do not doubt us, colonel.
+                    [_They retire all three to a corner of the stage;_
+                     DOMINICK _goes to the door where_ GOMEZ _stands._
+
+_Dom._ Good even, Gomez; how does your wife?
+
+_Gom._ Just as you'd have her; thinking on nothing but her dear
+colonel, and conspiring cuckoldom against me.
+
+_Dom._ I dare say, you wrong her; she is employing her thoughts how to
+cure you of your jealousy.
+
+_Gom._ Yes, by certainty.
+
+_Dom._ By your leave, Gomez; I have some spiritual advice to impart to
+her on that subject.
+
+_Gom._ You may spare your instructions, if you please, father; she has
+no farther need of them.
+
+_Dom._ How, no need of them! do you speak in riddles?
+
+_Gom._ Since you will have me speak plainer,--she has profited so well
+already by your counsel, that she can say her lesson without your
+teaching: Do you understand me now?
+
+_Dom._ I must not neglect my duty, for all that; once again, Gomez, by
+your leave.
+
+_Gom._ She's a little indisposed at present, and it will not be
+convenient to disturb her.         [DOMINICK _offers to go by him, but
+                                    t'other stands before him._
+
+_Dom._ Indisposed, say you? O, it is upon those occasions that a
+confessor is most necessary; I think, it was my good angel that sent
+me hither so opportunely.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, whose good angels sent you hither, that you best know,
+father.
+
+_Dom._ A word or two of devotion will do her no harm, I'm sure.
+
+_Gom._ A little sleep will do her more good, I'm sure: You know, she
+disburthened her conscience but this morning to you.
+
+_Dom._ But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may have new occasion to
+confess.
+
+_Gom._ Indeed, as you order matters with the colonel, she may have
+occasion of confessing herself every hour.
+
+_Dom._ Pray, how long has she been sick?
+
+_Gom._ Lord, you will force a man to speak;--why, ever since your last
+defeat.
+
+_Dom._ This can be but some slight indisposition; it will not last,
+and I may see her.
+
+_Gom._ How, not last! I say, it will last, and it shall last; she
+shall be sick these seven or eight days, and perhaps longer, as I see
+occasion. What? I know the mind of her sickness a little better than
+you do.
+
+_Dom._ I find, then, I must bring a doctor.
+
+_Gom._ And he'll bring an apothecary, with a chargeable long bill of
+_ana's_: those of my family have the grace to die cheaper. In a word,
+Sir Dominick, we understand one another's business here: I am resolved
+to stand like the Swiss of my own family, to defend the entrance; you
+may mumble over your _pater nosters_, if you please, and try if you
+can make my doors fly open, and batter down my walls with bell, book,
+and candle; but I am not of opinion, that you are holy enough to
+commit miracles.
+
+_Dom._ Men of my order are not to be treated after this manner.
+
+_Gom._ I would treat the pope and all his cardinals in the same
+manner, if they offered to see my wife, without my leave.
+
+_Dom._ I excommunicate thee from the church, if thou dost not open;
+there's promulgation coming out.
+
+_Gom._ And I excommunicate you from my wife, if you go to that:
+there's promulgation for promulgation, and bull for bull; and so I
+leave you to recreate yourself with the end of an old song--
+_And sorrow came to the old friar._                           [_Exit._
+
+  LORENZO _comes to him._
+
+_Lor._ I will not ask you your success; for I overheard part of it,
+and saw the conclusion. I find we are now put upon our last trump; the
+fox is earthed, but I shall send my two terriers in after him.
+
+_Sold._ I warrant you, colonel, we'll unkennel him.
+
+_Lor._ And make what haste you can, to bring out the lady.--What say
+you, father? Burglary is but a venial sin among soldiers.
+
+_Dom._ I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy of the
+church.--There is a proverb, I confess, which says, that dead men tell
+no tales; but let your soldiers apply it at their own perils.
+
+_Lor._ What, take away a man's wife, and kill him too! The wickedness
+of this old villain startles me, and gives me a twinge for my own sin,
+though it comes far short of his.--Hark you, soldiers, be sure you use
+as little violence to him as is possible.
+
+_Dom._ Hold a little; I have thought better how to secure him, with
+less danger to us.
+
+_Lor._ O miracle, the friar is grown conscientious!
+
+_Dom._ The old king, you know, is just murdered, and the persons that
+did it are unknown; let the soldiers seize him for one of the
+assassinates, and let me alone to accuse him afterwards.
+
+_Lor._ I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for suspecting a friar of
+the least good nature; what, would you accuse him wrongfully?
+
+_Dom._ I must confess, 'tis wrongful, _quoad hoc_, as to the fact
+itself; but 'tis rightful, _quoad hunc_, as to this heretical rogue,
+whom we must dispatch. He has railed against the church, which is a
+fouler crime than the murder of a thousand kings. _Omne majus continet
+in se minus:_ He, that is an enemy to the church, is an enemy unto
+heaven; and he, that is an enemy to heaven, would have killed the king
+if he had been in the circumstances of doing it; so it is not wrongful
+to accuse him.
+
+_Lor._ I never knew a churchman, if he were personally offended, but
+he would bring in heaven by hook or crook into his quarrel.--Soldiers,
+do as you were first ordered.                      [_Exeunt Soldiers._
+
+_Dom._ What was't you ordered them? Are you sure it's safe, and not
+scandalous?
+
+_Lor._ Somewhat near your own design, but not altogether so
+mischievous. The people are infinitely discontented, as they have
+reason; and mutinies there are, or will be, against the queen: now I
+am content to put him thus far into the plot, that he should be
+secured as a traitor; but he shall only be prisoner at the soldiers'
+quarters; and when I am out of reach, he shall be released.
+
+_Dom._ And what will become of me then? for when he is free, he will
+infallibly accuse me.
+
+_Lor._ Why then, father, you must have recourse to your infallible
+church-remedies; lie impudently, and swear devoutly, and, as you told
+me but now, let him try whose oath will be first believed. Retire, I
+hear them coming.                                    [_They withdraw._
+
+  _Enter the Soldiers with_ GOMEZ _struggling on their backs._
+
+_Gom._ Help, good Christians! help, neighbours! my house is broken
+open by force, and I am ravished, and like to be assassinated!--What
+do you mean, villains? will you carry me away, like a pedlar's pack,
+upon your backs? will you murder a man in plain day-light?
+
+_1 Soldier._ No; but we'll secure you for a traitor, and for being in
+a plot against the state.
+
+_Gom,_ Who, I in a plot! O Lord! O Lord! I never durst be in a plot:
+Why, how can you in conscience suspect a rich citizen of so much wit
+as to make a plotter? There are none but poor rogues, and those that
+can't live without it, that are in plots.
+
+_2 Soldier._ Away with him, away with him.
+
+_Gom._ O my gold! my wife! my wife! my gold! As I hope to be saved
+now, I know no more of the plot than they that made it.
+                                    [_They carry him off, and exeunt._
+
+_Lor._ Thus far we have sailed with a merry gale, and now we have the
+Cape of Good Hope in sight; the trade-wind is our own, if we can but
+double it.                                            [_He looks out._
+[_Aside._] Ah, my father and Pedro stand at the corner of the street
+with company; there's no stirring till they are past.
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA _with a casket._
+
+_Elv._ Am I come at last into your arms?
+
+_Lor._ Fear nothing; the adventure's ended, and the knight may carry
+off the lady safely.
+
+_Elv._ I'm so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am at liberty; but
+stand panting, like a bird that has often beaten her wings in vain
+against her cage, and at last dares hardly venture out, though she
+sees it open.
+
+_Dom._ Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for you; and
+thereupon I give you my benediction.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's an old gentleman
+of my acquaintance, that blocks up the passage at the corner of the
+street.
+
+_Dom._ What have you gotten there under your arm, daughter? somewhat,
+I hope, that will bear your charges in your pilgrimage.
+
+_Lor._ The friar has an hawk's eye to gold and jewels.
+
+_Elv._ Here's that will make you dance without a fiddle, and provide
+better entertainment for us, than hedges in summer, and barns in
+winter. Here's the very heart, and soul, and life-blood of Gomez;
+pawns in abundance, old gold of widows, and new gold of prodigals, and
+pearls and diamonds of court ladies, till the next bribe helps their
+husbands to redeem them.
+
+_Dom._ They are the spoils of the wicked, and the church endows you
+with them.
+
+_Lor._ And, faith, we'll drink the church's health out of them. But
+all this while I stand on thorns. Pr'ythee, dear, look out, and see if
+the coast be free for our escape; for I dare not peep, for fear of
+being known.                  [ELVIRA _goes to look, and_ GOMEZ _comes
+                               running in upon her: She shrieks out._
+
+_Gom._ Thanks to my stars, I have recovered my own territories.--What
+do I see? I'm ruined! I'm undone! I'm betrayed!
+
+_Dom._ [_Aside._] What a hopeful enterprise is here spoiled!
+
+_Gom._ O, colonel are you there?--and you, friar? nay, then I find how
+the world goes.
+
+_Lor._ Cheer up, man, thou art out of jeopardy; I heard thee crying
+out just now, and came running in full speed, with the wings of an
+eagle, and the feet of a tiger, to thy rescue.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, you are always at hand to do me a courtesy, with your
+eagle's feet, and your tiger's wings.--And what were you here for,
+friar?
+
+_Dom._ To interpose my spiritual authority in your behalf.
+
+_Gom._ And why did you shriek out, gentlewoman?
+
+_Elv._ 'Twas for joy at your return.
+
+_Gom._ And that casket under your arm, for what end and purpose?
+
+_Elv._ Only to preserve it from the thieves.
+
+_Gom._ And you came running out of doors--
+
+_Elv._ Only to meet you, sweet husband.
+
+_Gom._ A fine evidence summed up among you; thank you heartily, you
+are all my friends. The colonel was walking by accidentally, and
+hearing my voice, came in to save me; the friar, who was hobbling the
+same way too, accidentally again, and not knowing of the colonel, I
+warrant you, he comes in to pray for me; and my faithful wife runs out
+of doors to meet me, with all my jewels under her arm, and shrieks out
+for joy at my return. But if my father-in-law had not met your
+soldiers, colonel, and delivered me in the nick, I should neither have
+found a friend nor a friar here, and might have shrieked out for joy
+myself, for the loss of my jewels and my wife.
+
+_Dom._ Art thou an infidel? Wilt thou not believe us?
+
+_Gom._ Such churchmen as you would make any man an infidel.--Get you
+into your kennel, gentlewoman; I shall thank you within doors for your
+safe custody of my jewels and your own.
+                                 [_He thrusts his wife off the stage._
+As for you, colonel Huffcap, we shall try before a civil magistrate,
+who's the greater plotter of us two, I against the state, or you
+against the petticoat.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, if you will complain, you shall for something.
+                                                         [_Beats him._
+
+_Gom._ Murder, murder! I give up the ghost! I am destroyed! help,
+murder, murder!
+
+_Dom._ Away, colonel; let us fly for our lives: the neighbours are
+coming out with forks, and fire-shovels, and spits, and other domestic
+weapons; the militia of a whole alley is raised against us.
+
+_Lor._ This is but the interest of my debt, master usurer; the
+principal shall be paid you at our next meeting.
+
+_Dom._ Ah, if your soldiers had but dispatched him, his tongue had
+been laid asleep, colonel; but this comes of not following good
+counsel; ah--                    [_Exeunt_ LOR. _and Friar severally._
+
+_Gom._ I'll be revenged of him, if I dare; but he's such a terrible
+fellow, that my mind misgives me; I shall tremble when I have him
+before the judge. All my misfortunes come together. I have been
+robbed, and cuckolded, and ravished, and beaten, in one quarter of an
+hour; my poor limbs smart, and my poor head aches: ay, do, do, smart
+limb, ache head, and sprout horns; but I'll be hanged before I'll pity
+you:--you must needs be married, must ye? there's for that; [_Beats
+his own head._] and to a fine, young, modish lady, must ye? there's
+for that too; and, at threescore, you old, doting cuckold! take that
+remembrance;--a fine time of day for a man to be bound prentice, when
+he is past using of his trade; to set up an equipage of noise, when he
+has most need of quiet; instead of her being under covert-baron, to be
+under covert-femme myself; to have my body disabled, and my head
+fortified; and, lastly, to be crowded into a narrow box with a shrill
+treble,
+  That with one blast through the whole house does bound,
+  And first taught speaking-trumpets how to sound.            [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The Court._
+
+  _Enter_ RAYMOND, ALPHONSO, _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Raym._ Are these, are these, ye powers, the promised joys,
+With which I flattered my long, tedious absence,
+To find, at my return, my master murdered?
+O, that I could but weep, to vent my passion!
+But this dry sorrow burns up all my tears.
+
+_Alph._ Mourn inward, brother; 'tis observed at court,
+Who weeps, and who wears black; and your return
+Will fix all eyes on every act of yours,
+To see how you resent King Sancho's death.
+
+_Raym._ What generous man can live with that constraint
+Upon his soul, to bear, much less to flatter,
+A court like this! Can I sooth tyranny?
+Seem pleased to see my royal master murdered,
+His crown usurped, a distaff in the throne,
+A council made of such as dare not speak,
+And could not, if they durst; whence honest men
+Banish themselves, for shame of being there:
+A government, that, knowing not true wisdom,
+Is scorned abroad, and lives on tricks at home?
+
+_Alph._ Virtue must be thrown off; 'tis a coarse garment,
+Too heavy for the sun-shine of a court.
+
+_Raym._ Well then, I will dissemble, for an end
+So great, so pious, as a just revenge:
+You'll join with me?
+
+_Alph._ No honest man but must.
+
+_Ped._ What title has this queen, but lawless force?
+And force must pull her down.
+
+_Alph._ Truth is, I pity Leonora's case;
+Forced, for her safety, to commit a crime,
+Which most her soul abhors.
+
+_Raym._ All she has done, or e'er can do, of good,
+This one black deed has damned.
+
+_Ped,_ You'll hardly gain your son to our design.
+
+_Raym._ Your reason for't?
+
+_Ped._ I want time to unriddle it:
+Put on your t'other face, the queen approaches.
+
+  _Enter_ LEONORA, BERTRAN, _and Attendants._
+
+_Raym._ And that accursed Bertran
+Stalks close behind her, like a witch's fiend,
+Pressing to be employed; stand, and observe them.
+
+_Leo._ to _Bert._ Buried in private, and so suddenly!
+It crosses my design, which was to allow
+The rites of funeral fitting his degree,
+With all the pomp of mourning.
+
+_Bert._ It was not safe:
+Objects of pity, when the cause is new,
+Would work too fiercely on the giddy crowd:
+Had Cæsar's body never been exposed,
+Brutus had gained his cause.
+
+_Leo._ Then, was he loved?
+
+_Bert._ O, never man so much, for saint-like goodness.
+
+_Ped._ Had bad men feared him, but as good men loved him,
+He had not yet been sainted.                                 [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ I wonder how the people bear his death.
+
+_Bert._ Some discontents there are; some idle murmurs.
+
+_Ped._ How, idle murmurs! Let me plainly speak:
+The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,
+With arms across, and hats upon their eyes,
+Walk to and fro before their silent shops;
+Whole droves of lenders crowd the bankers' doors,
+To call in money; those, who have none, mark
+Where money goes; for when they rise, 'tis plunder:
+The rabble gather round the man of news,
+And listen with their mouths;
+Some tell, some hear, some judge of news, some make it;
+And he, who lies most loud, is most believed.
+
+_Leo._ This may be dangerous.
+
+_Raym._ Pray heaven it may!                                  [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ If one of you must fall,
+Self-preservation is the first of laws;
+And if, when subjects are oppressed by kings,
+They justify rebellion by that law,
+As well may monarchs turn the edge of right
+To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.
+
+_Leo._ You place such arbitrary power in kings,
+That I much fear, if I should make you one,
+You'll make yourself a tyrant; let these know
+By what authority you did this act.
+
+_Bert._ You much surprise me, to demand that question:
+But, since truth must be told, 'twas by your own.
+
+_Leo._ Produce it; or, by heaven, your head shall answer
+The forfeit of your tongue.
+
+_Raym._ Brave mischief towards.                              [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ You bade me.
+
+_Leo._ When, and where?
+
+_Bert._ No, I confess, you bade me not in words;
+The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs,
+And pointed full upon the stroke of murder:
+Yet this you said,
+You were a woman, ignorant and weak,
+So left it to my care.
+
+_Leo._ What, if I said,
+I was a woman, ignorant and weak,
+Were you to take the advantage of my sex,
+And play the devil to tempt me? You contrived,
+You urged, you drove me headlong to your toils;
+And if, much tired, and frighted more, I paused,
+Were you to make my doubts your own commission?
+
+_Bert._ This 'tis, to serve a prince too faithfully;
+Who, free from laws himself, will have that done,
+Which, not performed, brings us to sure disgrace;
+And, if performed, to ruin.
+
+_Leo._ This 'tis, to counsel things that are unjust;
+First, to debauch a king to break his laws,
+Which are his safety, and then seek protection
+From him you have endangered; but, just heaven,
+When sins are judged, will damn the tempting devil,
+More deep than those he tempted.
+
+_Bert._ If princes not protect their ministers,
+What man will dare to serve them?
+
+_Leo._ None will dare
+To serve them ill, when they are left to laws;
+But, when a counsellor, to save himself,
+Would lay miscarriages upon his prince,
+Exposing him to public rage and hate;
+O, 'tis an act as infamously base,
+As, should a common soldier sculk behind,
+And thrust his general in the front of war:
+It shews, he only served himself before,
+And had no sense of honour, country, king,
+But centered on himself, and used his master,
+As guardians do their wards, with shews of care,
+But with intent to sell the public safety,
+And pocket up his prince.
+
+_Ped._ Well said, i'faith;
+This speech is e'en too good for an usurper.                 [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ I see for whom I must be sacrificed;
+And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,
+I might have found it sooner.
+
+_Leo._ From my sight!
+The prince, who bears an insolence like this,
+Is such an image of the powers above,
+As is the statue of the thundering god,
+Whose bolts the boys may play with.
+
+_Bert._ Unrevenged
+I will not fall, nor single.                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ Welcome, welcome!            [_To_ RAYM. _who kisses her hand._
+I saw you not before: One honest lord
+Is hid with ease among a crowd of courtiers.
+How can I be too grateful to the father
+Of such a son as Torrismond?
+
+_Raym._ His actions were but duty.
+
+_Leo._ Yet, my lord,
+All have not paid that debt, like noble Torrismond.
+You hear, how Bertran brands me with a crime,
+Of which, your son can witness, I am free.
+I sent to stop the murder, but too late;
+For crimes are swift, but penitence is slow:
+The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,
+Flew to prevent the soft returns of pity.
+
+_Raym._ O cursed haste, of making sure of sin!--
+Can you forgive the traitor?
+
+_Leo._ Never, never:
+'Tis written here in characters so deep,
+That seven years hence, ('till then should I not meet him,)
+And in the temple then, I'll drag him thence,
+Even from the holy altar to the block.
+
+_Raym._ She's fired, as I would wish her; aid me, justice,   [_Aside._
+As all my ends are thine, to gain this point,
+And ruin both at once.--It wounds, indeed,                  [_To her._
+To bear affronts, too great to be forgiven,
+And not have power to punish; yet one way
+There is to ruin Bertran.
+
+_Leo._ O, there's none;
+Except an host from heaven can make such haste
+To save my crown, as he will do to seize it.
+You saw, he came surrounded with his friends,
+And knew, besides, our army was removed
+To quarters too remote for sudden use.
+
+_Raym._ Yet you may give commission
+To some bold man, whose loyalty you trust,
+And let him raise the train-bands of the city.
+
+_Leo._ Gross feeders, lion talkers, lamb-like fighters.
+
+_Raym._ You do not know the virtues of your city,
+What pushing force they have; some popular chief,
+More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo,
+And, in a trice, the bellowing herd come out;
+The gates are barred, the ways are barricadoed,
+And _One and all's_ the word; true cocks o'the game,
+That never ask, for what, or whom, they fight;
+But turn them out, and shew them but a foe,
+Cry--_Liberty!_ and that's a cause of quarrel.
+
+_Leo._ There may be danger in that boisterous rout:
+Who knows, when fires are kindled for my foes,
+But some new blast of wind may turn those flames
+Against my palace-walls?
+
+_Raym._ But still their chief
+Must be some one, whose loyalty you trust.
+
+_Leo._ And who more proper for that trust than you,
+Whose interests, though unknown to you, are mine?
+Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the rabble;
+He shall appear to head them.
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside to_ ALPH. _and_ PED.]
+First sieze Bertran,
+And then insinuate to them, that I bring
+Their lawful prince to place upon the throne.
+
+_Alph._ Our lawful prince!
+
+_Raym._ Fear not; I can produce him.
+
+_Ped._ [_To_ ALPH.]
+Now we want your son Lorenzo:  what a mighty faction
+Would he make for us of the city-wives,
+With,--Oh, dear husband, my sweet honey husband,
+Wont you be for the colonel? if you love me,
+Be for the colonel; Oh, he's the finest man!
+                                            [_Exeunt_ ALPH. _and_ PED.
+
+_Raym._ So, now we have a plot behind the plot.
+She thinks, she's in the depth of my design,
+And that 'tis all for her; but time shall show,
+She only lives to help me ruin others,
+And last, to fall herself.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ Now, to you, Raymond: can you guess no reason
+Why I repose such confidence in you?
+You needs must think,
+There's some more powerful cause than loyalty:
+Will you not speak, to save a lady's blush?
+Need I inform you, 'tis for Torrismond,
+That all this grace is shown?
+
+_Raym._ By all the powers, worse, worse than what I feared!  [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ And yet, what need I blush at such a choice?
+I love a man whom I am proud to love,
+And am well pleased my inclination gives
+What gratitude would force. O pardon me;
+I ne'er was covetous of wealth before;
+Yet think so vast a treasure as your son,
+Too great for any private man's possession;
+And him too rich a jewel, to be set
+In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.
+
+_Raym._ Arm me with patience, heaven!
+
+_Leo._ How, patience, Raymond?
+What exercise of patience have you here?
+What find you in my crown to be contemned;
+Or in my person loathed? Have I, a queen,
+Past by my fellow-rulers of the world,
+Whose vying crowns lay glittering in my way,
+As if the world were paved with diadems?
+Have I refused their blood, to mix with yours,
+And raise new kings from so obscure a race,
+Fate scarce knew where to find them, when I called?
+Have I heaped on my person, crown, and state,
+To load the scale, and weighed myself with earth,
+For you to spurn the balance?
+
+_Raym._ Bate the last, and 'tis what I would say:
+Can I, can any loyal subject, see
+With patience, such a stoop from sovereignty,
+An ocean poured upon a narrow brook?
+My zeal for you must lay the father by,
+And plead my country's cause against my son.
+What though his heart be great, his actions gallant,
+He wants a crown to poise against a crown,
+Birth to match birth, and power to balance power.
+
+_Leo._ All these I have, and these I can bestow;
+But he brings worth and virtue to my bed;
+And virtue is the wealth which tyrants want:
+I stand in need of one, whose glories may
+Redeem my crimes, ally me to his fame,
+Dispel the factions of my foes on earth,
+Disarm the justice of the powers above.
+
+_Raym._ The people never will endure this choice.
+
+_Leo._ If I endure it, what imports it you?
+Go, raise the ministers of my revenge,
+Guide with your breath this whirling tempest round,
+And see its fury fall where I design.
+At last a time for just revenge is given;
+Revenge, the darling attribute of heaven:
+But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;
+Still more exposed, the more he pardons wrong;
+Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;
+To be a saint, he makes himself a slave.                [_Exit Queen._
+
+_Raym._ [_Solus._]
+Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be,
+By heaven, it must not be! or, if it be,
+Law, justice, honour, bid farewell to earth,
+For heaven leaves all to tyrants.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, _who kneels to him._
+
+_Tor._ O, very welcome, sir!
+But doubly now! You come in such a time,
+As if propitious fortune took a care,
+To swell my tide of joys to their full height,
+And leave me nothing farther to desire.
+
+_Raym._ I hope, I come in time, if not to make,
+At least to save your fortune and your honour.
+Take heed you steer your vessel right, my son;
+This calm of heaven, this mermaid's melody,
+Into an unseen whirlpool draws you fast,
+And, in a moment, sinks you.
+
+_Tor._ Fortune cannot,
+And fate can scarce; I've made the port already,
+And laugh securely at the lazy storm,
+That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.
+Your pardon, sir; my duty calls me hence;
+I go to find my queen, my earthly goddess,
+To whom I owe my hopes, my life, my love.
+
+_Raym._ You owe her more, perhaps, than you imagine;
+Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first.
+This hour's the very crisis of your fate,
+Your good or ill, your infamy or fame,
+And all the colour of your life, depends
+On this important now.
+
+_Tor._ I see no danger;
+The city, army, court, espouse my cause,
+And, more than all, the queen, with public favour,
+Indulges my pretensions to her love.
+
+_Raym._ Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,
+'Tis granted, nothing hinders your design.
+
+_Tor._ If she can make me blest? she only can;
+Empire, and wealth, and all she brings beside,
+Are but the train and trappings of her love:
+The sweetest, kindest, truest of her sex,
+In whose possession years roll round on years,
+And joys, in circles, meet new joys again;
+Kisses, embraces, languishing, and death,
+Still from each other to each other move,
+To crown the various seasons of our love;
+And doubt you if such love can make me happy?
+
+_Raym._ Yes; for, I think, you love your honour more.
+
+_Tor._ And what can shock my honour in a queen?
+
+_Raym._ A tyrant, an usurper?
+
+_Tor._ Grant she be;
+When from the conqueror we hold our lives,
+We yield ourselves his subjects from that hour;
+For mutual benefits make mutual ties.
+
+_Raym._ Why, can you think I owe a thief my life,
+Because he took it not by lawless force?
+What, if he did not all the ill he could?
+Am I obliged by that to assist his rapines,
+And to maintain his murders?
+
+_Tor._ Not to maintain, but bear them unrevenged.
+Kings' titles commonly begin by force,
+Which time wears off, and mellows into right;
+So power, which, in one age, is tyranny,
+Is ripened, in the next, to true succession:
+She's in possession.
+
+_Raym._ So diseases are:
+Should not a lingering fever be removed,
+Because it long has raged within my blood?
+Do I rebel, when I would thrust it out?
+What, shall I think the world was made for one,
+And men are born for kings, as beasts for men,
+Not for protection, but to be devoured?
+Mark those, who dote on arbitrary power,
+And you shall find them either hot-brained youth,
+Or needy bankrupts, servile in their greatness,
+And slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest.
+O baseness, to support a tyrant throne,
+And crush your freeborn brethren of the world!
+Nay, to become a part of usurpation;
+To espouse the tyrant's person and her crimes,
+And, on a tyrant, get a race of tyrants,
+To be your country's curse in after ages.
+
+_Tor._ I see no crime in her whom I adore,
+Or, if I do, her beauty makes it none:
+Look on me as a man abandoned o'er
+To an eternal lethargy of love;
+To pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,
+And but disturb the quiet of my death.
+
+_Raym._ O virtue, virtue! what art thou become,
+That man should leave thee for that toy, a woman,
+Made from the dross and refuse of a man!
+Heaven took him, sleeping, when he made her too;
+Had man been waking, he had ne'er consented.
+Now, son, suppose
+Some brave conspiracy were ready formed,
+To punish tyrants, and redeem the land,
+Could you so far belie your country's hope,
+As not to head the party?
+
+_Tor._ How could my hand rebel against my heart?
+
+_Raym._ How could your heart rebel against your reason?
+
+_Tor._ No honour bids me fight against myself;
+The royal family is all extinct,
+And she, who reigns, bestows her crown on me:
+So must I be ungrateful to the living,
+To be but vainly pious to the dead,
+While you defraud your offspring of their fate.
+
+_Raym._ Mark who defraud their offspring, you or I?
+For know, there yet survives the lawful heir
+Of Sancho's blood, whom when I shall produce,
+I rest assured to see you pale with fear,
+And trembling at his name.
+
+_Tor._ He must be more than man, who makes me tremble.
+I dare him to the field, with all the odds
+Of justice on his side, against my tyrant:
+Produce your lawful prince, and you shall see
+How brave a rebel love has made your son.
+
+_Raym._ Read that; 'tis with the royal signet signed,
+And given me, by the king, when time should serve,
+To be perused by you.
+
+_Tor._ [_Reads._] _I, the king.
+My youngest and alone surviving son,
+Reported dead, to escape rebellious rage,
+Till happier times shall call his courage forth,
+To break my fetters, or revenge my fate,
+I will that Raymond educate as his,
+And call him Torrismond--_
+If I am he, that son, that Torrismond,
+The world contains not so forlorn a wretch!
+Let never man believe he can be happy!
+For, when I thought my fortune most secure,
+One fatal moment tears me from my joys;
+And when two hearts were joined by mutual love,
+The sword of justice cuts upon the knot,
+And severs them for ever.
+
+_Raym._ True, it must.
+
+_Tor._ O, cruel man, to tell me that it must!
+If you have any pity in your breast,
+Redeem me from this labyrinth of fate,
+And plunge me in my first obscurity.
+The secret is alone between us two;
+And, though you would not hide me from myself,
+O, yet be kind, conceal me from the world,
+And be my father still!
+
+_Raym._ Your lot's too glorious, and the proof's too plain.
+Now, in the name of honour, sir, I beg you,--
+Since I must use authority no more,--
+On these old knees, I beg you, ere I die,
+That I may see your father's death revenged.
+
+_Tor._ Why, 'tis the only business of my life;
+My order's issued to recall the army,
+And Bertran's death's resolved.
+
+_Raym._ And not the queen's? O, she's the chief offender!
+Shall justice turn her edge within your hand?
+No, if she 'scape, you are yourself the tyrant,
+And murderer of your father.
+
+_Tor._ Cruel fates!
+To what have you reserved me?
+
+_Raym._ Why that sigh?
+
+_Tor._ Since you must know,--but break, O break, my heart,
+Before I tell my fatal story out!--
+The usurper of my throne, my house's ruin!
+The murderer of my father,--is my wife!
+
+_Raym._ O horror, horror!--After this alliance,
+Let tigers match with hinds, and wolves with sheep,
+And every creature couple with his foe.
+How vainly man designs, when heaven opposes!
+I bred you up to arms, raised you to power,
+Permitted you to fight for this usurper,
+Indeed to save a crown, not hers, but yours,
+All to make sure the vengeance of this day,
+Which even this day has ruined. One more question
+Let me but ask, and I have done for ever;--
+Do you yet love the cause of all your woes,
+Or is she grown, as sure she ought to be,
+More odious to your sight than toads and adders?
+
+_Tor._ O there's the utmost malice of my fate,
+That I am bound to hate, and born to love!
+
+_Raym._ No more!--Farewell, my much lamented king!--
+I dare not trust him with himself so far,
+To own him to the people as their king,
+Before their rage has finished my designs
+On Bertran and the queen; but in despite,
+Even of himself, I'll save him.                     [_Aside and exit._
+
+_Tor._ 'Tis but a moment since I have been king,
+And weary on't already; I'm a lover,
+And loved, possess,--yet all these make me wretched;
+And heaven has given me blessings for a curse.
+With what a load of vengeance am I prest,
+Yet, never, never, can I hope for rest;
+For when my heavy burden I remove,
+The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.                [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Bed-Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Love, justice, nature, pity, and revenge,
+Have kindled up a wildfire in my breast,
+And I am all a civil war within!
+
+  _Enter Queen and_ TERESA, _at a distance._
+
+My Leonora there!--
+Mine! is she mine? my father's murderer mine?
+O! that I could, with honour, love her more,
+Or hate her less, with reason!--See, she weeps!
+Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why
+I thus estrange my person from her bed!
+Shall I not tell her?--no; 'twill break her heart;
+She'll know too soon her own and my misfortunes.              [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ He's gone, and I am lost; did'st thou not see
+His sullen eyes? how gloomily they glanced?
+He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.
+
+_Ter._ Can you not guess from whence this change proceeds?
+
+_Leo._ No: there's the grief, Teresa: Oh, Teresa!
+Fain would I tell thee what I feel within,
+But shame and modesty have tied my tongue!
+Yet, I will tell, that thou may'st weep with me.--
+How dear, how sweet his first embraces were!
+With what a zeal he joined his lips to mine!
+And sucked my breath at every word I spoke,
+As if he drew his inspiration hence:
+While both our souls came upward to our mouths,
+As neighbouring monarchs at their borders meet;
+I thought--Oh, no; 'tis false! I could not think;
+'Twas neither life nor death, but both in one.
+
+_Ter._ Then, sure his transports were not less than yours.
+
+_Leo._ More, more! for, by the high-hung tapers' light,
+I could discern his cheeks were glowing red,
+His very eyeballs trembled with his love,
+And sparkled through their casements humid fires;
+He sighed, and kissed; breathed short, and would have spoke,
+But was too fierce to throw away the time;
+All he could say was--love and Leonora.
+
+_Ter._ How then can you suspect him lost so soon?
+
+_Leo._ Last night he flew not with a bridegroom's haste,
+Which eagerly prevents the appointed hour:
+I told the clocks, and watched the wasting light,
+And listened to each softly-treading step,
+In hope 'twas he; but still it was not he.
+At last he came, but with such altered looks,
+So wild, so ghastly, as if some ghost had met him:
+All pale, and speechless, he surveyed me round;
+Then, with a groan, he threw himself a-bed,
+But, far from me, as far as he could move,
+And sighed and tossed, and turned, but still from me.
+
+_Ter._ What, all the night?
+
+_Leo._ Even all the livelong night.
+At last, (for, blushing, I must tell thee all,)
+I pressed his hand, and laid me by his side;
+He pulled it back, as if he touched a serpent.
+With that I burst into a flood of tears,
+And asked him how I had offended him?
+He answered nothing, but with sighs and groans;
+So, restless, past the night; and, at the dawn,
+Leapt from the bed, and vanished.
+
+_Ter._ Sighs and groans,
+Paleness and trembling, all are signs of love;
+He only fears to make you share his sorrows.
+
+_Leo._ I wish 'twere so; but love still doubts the worst;
+My heavy heart, the prophetess of woes,
+Forebodes some ill at hand: to sooth my sadness,
+Sing me the song, which poor Olympia made,
+When false Bireno left her.
+
+          SONG.
+
+  _Farewell, ungrateful traitor!
+    Farewell, my perjured swain!
+  Let never injured creature
+    Believe a man again.
+  The pleasure of possessing
+  Surpasses all expressing,
+  But 'tis too short a blessing,
+    And love too long a pain._
+
+  _'Tis easy to deceive us,
+    In pity of your pain;
+  But when we love, you leave us,
+    To rail at you in vain.
+  Before we have descried it,
+  There is no bliss beside it;
+  But she, that once has tried it,
+    Will never love again._
+
+  _The passion you pretended,
+    Was only to obtain;
+  But when the charm is ended,
+    The charmer you disdain.
+  Your love by ours we measure,
+  Till we have lost our treasure;
+  But dying is a pleasure,
+    When living is a pain._
+
+  _Re-enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Still she is here, and still I cannot speak;
+But wander, like some discontented ghost,
+That oft appears, but is forbid to talk.               [_Going again._
+
+_Leo._ O, Torrismond, if you resolve my death,
+You need no more, but to go hence again;
+Will you not speak?
+
+_Tor._ I cannot.
+
+_Leo._ Speak! oh, speak!
+Your anger would be kinder than your silence.
+
+_Tor._ Oh!--
+
+_Leo._ Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh.
+
+_Tor._ Why do I live, ye powers!
+
+_Leo._ Why do I live to hear you speak that word?
+Some black-mouthed villain has defamed my virtue.
+
+_Tor._ No, no! Pray, let me go.
+
+_Leo._ [_Kneeling._] You shall not go!
+By all the pleasures of our nuptial bed,
+If ever I was loved, though now I'm not,
+By these true tears, which, from my wounded heart,
+Bleed at my eyes--
+
+_Tor._ Rise.
+
+_Leo._ I will never rise;
+I cannot chuse a better place to die.
+
+_Tor._ Oh! I would speak, but cannot.
+
+_Leo._ [_Rising._]
+Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not:
+What have I done, ye powers, what have I done,
+To see my youth, my beauty, and my love,
+No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed;
+And, like a rose, just gathered from the stalk,
+But only smelt, and cheaply thrown aside,
+To wither on the ground.
+
+_Ter._ For heaven's sake, madam, moderate your passion!
+
+_Leo._ Why namest thou heaven? there is no heaven for me.
+Despair, death, hell, have seized my tortured soul!
+When I had raised his grovelling fate from ground,
+To power and love, to empire, and to me;
+When each embrace was dearer than the first;
+Then, then to be contemned; then, then thrown off!
+It calls me old, and withered, and deformed,
+And loathsome! Oh! what woman can bear loathsome?
+The turtle flies not from his billing mate,
+He bills the closer; but, ungrateful man,
+Base, barbarous man! the more we raise our love,
+The more we pall, and kill, and cool his ardour.
+Racks, poison, daggers, rid me of my life;
+And any death is welcome.
+
+_Tor._ Be witness all ye powers, that know my heart,
+I would have kept the fatal secret hid;
+But she has conquered, to her ruin conquered:
+Here, take this paper, read our destinies;--
+Yet do not; but, in kindness to yourself,
+Be ignorantly safe.
+
+_Leo._ No! give it me,
+Even though it be the sentence of my death.
+
+_Tor._ Then see how much unhappy love has made us.
+O Leonora! Oh!
+We two were born when sullen planets reigned;
+When each the other's influence opposed,
+And drew the stars to factions at our birth.
+Oh! better, better had it been for us,
+That we had never seen, or never loved.
+
+_Leo._ There is no faith in heaven, if heaven says so;
+You dare not give it.
+
+_Tor._ As unwillingly,
+As I would reach out opium to a friend,
+Who lay in torture, and desired to die.            [_Gives the Paper._
+But now you have it, spare my sight the pain
+Of seeing what a world of tears it costs you.
+Go, silently, enjoy your part of grief,
+And share the sad inheritance with me.
+
+_Leo._ I have a thirsty fever in my soul;
+Give me but present ease, and let me die.  [_Exeunt Queen and_ TERESA.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ Arm, arm, my lord! the city bands are up;
+Drums beating, colours flying, shouts confused;
+All clustering in a heap, like swarming hives,
+And rising in a moment.
+
+_Tor._ With design to punish Bertran, and revenge the king;
+'Twas ordered so.
+
+_Lor._ Then you're betrayed, my lord.
+'Tis true, they block the castle kept by Bertran,
+But now they cry, "Down with the palace, fire it,
+Pull out the usurping queen!"
+
+_Tor._ The queen, Lorenzo! durst they name the queen?
+
+_Lor._ If railing and reproaching be to name her.
+
+_Tor._ O sacrilege! say quickly, who commands
+This vile blaspheming rout?
+
+_Lor._ I'm loth to tell you;
+But both our fathers thrust them headlong on,
+And bear down all before them.
+
+_Tor._ Death and hell!
+Somewhat must be resolved, and speedily.
+How say'st thou, my Lorenzo? dar'st thou be
+A friend, and once forget thou art a son,
+To help me save the queen?
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] Let me consider:--
+Bear arms against my father? he begat me;--
+That's true; but for whose sake did he beget me?
+For his own, sure enough: for me he knew not.
+Oh! but says conscience,--Fly in nature's face?--
+But how, if nature fly in my face first?
+Then nature's the aggressor; let her look to't.--
+He gave me life, and he may take it back:
+No, that's boys' play, say I.
+'Tis policy for a son and father to take different sides:
+For then, lands and tenements commit no treason.
+[_To_ TOR.] Sir, upon mature consideration, I have found my father to
+be little better than a rebel, and therefore, I'll do my best to
+secure him, for your sake; in hope, you may secure him hereafter for
+my sake.
+
+_Tor._ Put on thy utmost speed to head the troops,
+Which every moment I expect to arrive;
+Proclaim me, as I am, the lawful king:
+I need not caution thee for Raymond's life,
+Though I no more must call him father now.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] How! not call him father? I see preferment alters a
+man strangely; this may serve me for a use of instruction, to cast off
+my father when I am great. Methought too, he called himself the lawful
+king; intimating sweetly, that he knows what's what with our sovereign
+lady:--Well if I rout my father, as I hope in heaven I shall, I am in
+a fair way to be the prince of the blood.--Farewell, general; I will
+bring up those that shall try what mettle there is in orange tawny.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ [_At the Door._]
+Haste there; command the guards be all drawn up
+Before the palace-gate.--By heaven, I'll face
+This tempest, and deserve the name of king!
+O Leonora, beauteous in thy crimes,
+Never were hell and heaven so matched before!
+Look upward, fair, but as thou look'st on me;
+  Then all the blest will beg, that thou may'st live,
+  And even my father's ghost his death forgive.               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The Palace-Yard. Drums and Trumpets within._
+
+  _Enter_ RAYMOND, ALPHONSO, PEDRO, _and their Party._
+
+_Raym._ Now, valiant citizens, the time is come,
+To show your courage, and your loyalty.
+You have a prince of Sancho's royal blood,
+The darling of the heavens, and joy of earth;
+When he's produced, as soon he shall, among you,
+Speak, what will you adventure to reseat him
+Upon his father's throne?
+
+_Omn._ Our lives and fortunes.
+
+_Raym._ What then remains to perfect our success;
+But o'er the tyrant's guards to force our way?
+
+_Omn._ Lead on, lead on.      [_Drums and Trumpets on the other side._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND _and his Party: As they are going to fight, he
+  speaks._
+
+_Tor._ [_To his._] Hold, hold your arms.
+
+_Raym._ [_To his._] Retire.
+
+_Alph._ What means this pause?
+
+_Ped._ Peace; nature works within them.  [ALPH. _and_ PED. _go apart._
+
+_Tor._ How comes it, good old man, that we two meet
+On these harsh terms? thou very reverend rebel;
+Thou venerable traitor, in whose face
+And hoary hairs treason is sanctified,
+And sin's black dye seems blanched by age to virtue.
+
+_Raym._ What treason is it to redeem my king,
+And to reform the state?
+
+_Tor._ That's a stale cheat;
+The primitive rebel, Lucifer, first used it,
+And was the first reformer of the skies.
+
+_Raym._ What, if I see my prince mistake a poison,
+Call it a cordial,--am I then a traitor,
+Because I hold his hand, or break the glass?
+
+_Tor._ How darest thou serve thy king against his will?
+
+_Raym._ Because 'tis then the only time to serve him.
+
+_Tor._ I take the blame of all upon myself;
+Discharge thy weight on me.
+
+_Raym._ O never, never!
+Why, 'tis to leave a ship, tossed in a tempest,
+Without the pilot's care.
+
+_Tor._ I'll punish thee;
+By heaven, I will, as I would punish rebels,
+Thou stubborn loyal man!
+
+_Raym._ First let me see
+Her punished, who misleads you from your fame;
+Then burn me, hack me, hew me into pieces,
+And I shall die well pleased.
+
+_Tor._ Proclaim my title,
+To save the effusion of my subjects' blood; and thou shalt still
+Be as my foster-father near my breast,
+And next my Leonora.
+
+_Raym._ That word stabs me.
+You shall be still plain Torrismond with me;
+The abettor, partner, (if you like that name,)
+The husband of a tyrant; but no king,
+Till you deserve that title by your justice.
+
+_Tor._ Then farewell, pity; I will be obeyed.--
+[_To the People._] Hear, you mistaken men, whose loyalty
+Runs headlong into treason: See your prince!
+In me behold your murdered Sancho's son;
+Dismiss your arms, and I forgive your crimes.
+
+_Raym._ Believe him not; he raves; his words are loose
+As heaps of sand, and scattering wide from sense.
+You see he knows not me, his natural father;
+But, aiming to possess the usurping queen,
+So high he's mounted in his airy hopes,
+That now the wind is got into his head,
+And turns his brains to frenzy.
+
+_Tor._ Hear me yet; I am--
+
+_Raym._ Fall on, fall on, and hear him not;
+But spare his person, for his father's sake.
+
+_Ped._ Let me come; if he be mad, I have that shall cure him. There's
+no surgeon in all Arragon has so much dexterity as I have at breathing
+of the temple-vein.
+
+_Tor._ My right for me!
+
+_Raym._ Our liberty for us!
+
+_Omn._ Liberty, liberty!
+
+  _As they are ready to Fight, enter_ LORENZO _and his Party._
+
+_Lor._ On forfeit of your lives, lay down your arms.
+
+_Alph._ How, rebel, art thou there?
+
+_Lor._ Take your rebel back again, father mine: The beaten party are
+rebels to the conquerors. I have been at hard-head with your butting
+citizens; I have routed your herd; I have dispersed them; and now they
+are retreated quietly, from their extraordinary vocation of fighting
+in the streets, to their ordinary vocation of cozening in their shops.
+
+_Tor._ [_To_ RAYM.]
+You see 'tis vain contending with the truth;
+Acknowledge what I am.
+
+_Raym._ You are my king;--would you would be your own!
+But, by a fatal fondness, you betray
+Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed.
+Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide,
+Take your own crown from Leonora's gift,
+And hug your father's murderer in your arms!
+
+  _Enter Queen,_ TERESA, _and Women._
+
+_Alph._ No more; behold the queen.
+
+_Raym._ Behold the basilisk of Torrismond,
+That kills him with her eyes--I will speak on;
+My life is of no farther use to me:
+I would have chaffered it before for vengeance;
+Now let it go for failing.
+
+_Tor._ My heart sinks in me while I hear him speak,
+And every slackened fibre drops its hold,
+Like nature letting down the springs of life;
+So much the name of father awes me still--                   [_Aside._
+Send off the crowd; for you, now I have conquered,
+I can hear with honour your demands.
+
+_Lor._ [_To_ ALPH.] Now, sir, who proves the traitor? My conscience is
+true to me; it always whispers right, when I have my regiment to back
+it.                                      [_Exeunt_ LOR. ALPH. PED. &c.
+
+_Tor._ O Leonora, what can love do more?
+I have opposed your ill fate to the utmost;
+Combated heaven and earth to keep you mine;
+And yet at last that tyrant justice! Oh--
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis past, 'tis past, and love is ours no more;
+Yet I complain not of the powers above;
+They made me a miser's feast of happiness,
+And could not furnish out another meal.
+Now, by yon stars, by heaven, and earth, and men,
+By all my foes at once, I swear, my Torrismond,
+That to have had you mine for one short day,
+Has cancelled half my mighty sum of woes!
+Say but you hate me not.
+
+_Tor._ I cannot hate you.
+
+_Raym._ Can you not? say that once more,
+That all the saints may witness it against you.
+
+_Leo._ Cruel Raymond!
+Can he not punish me, but he must hate?
+O, 'tis not justice, but a brutal rage,
+Which hates the offender's person with his crimes!
+I have enough to overwhelm one woman,
+To lose a crown and lover in a day:
+Let pity lend a tear, when rigour strikes.
+
+_Raym._ Then, then you should have thought of tears and pity,
+When virtue, majesty, and hoary age,
+Pleaded for Sancho's life.
+
+_Leo._ My future days shall be one whole contrition:
+A chapel will I build, with large endowment,
+Where every day an hundred aged men
+Shall all hold up their withered hands to heaven,
+To pardon Sancho's death.
+
+_Tor._ See, Raymond, see; she makes a large amends:
+Sancho is dead; no punishment of her
+Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark grave;
+Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
+Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest,
+To see, with joy, her miseries on earth.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven may forgive a crime to penitence,
+For heaven can judge if penitence be true;
+But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples
+Which, like a warning piece, must be shot off,
+To fright the rest from crimes.
+
+_Leo._ Had I but known that Sancho was his father,
+I would have poured a deluge of my blood,
+To save one drop of his.
+
+_Tor._ Mark that, inexorable Raymond, mark!
+'Twas fatal ignorance, that caused his death.
+
+_Raym._ What! if she did not know he was your father,
+She knew he was a man, the best of men;
+Heaven's image double-stamped, as man and king.
+
+_Leo._ He was, he was, even more than you can say;
+But yet--
+
+_Raym._ But yet you barbarously murdered him.
+
+_Leo._ He will not hear me out!
+
+_Tor._ Was ever criminal forbid to plead?
+Curb your ill-mannered zeal.
+
+_Raym._ Sing to him, syren;
+For I shall stop my ears: Now mince the sin,
+And mollify damnation with a phrase;
+Say, you consented not to Sancho's death,
+But barely not forbade it.
+
+_Leo._ Hard-hearted man, I yield my guilty cause;
+But all my guilt was caused by too much love.
+Had I, for jealousy of empire, sought
+Good Sancho's death, Sancho had died before.
+'Twas always in my power to take his life;
+But interest never could my conscience blind,
+Till love had cast a mist before my eyes,
+And made me think his death the only means
+Which could secure my throne to Torrismond.
+
+_Tor._ Never was fatal mischief meant so kind,
+For all she gave has taken all away.
+Malicious powers! is this to be restored?
+'Tis to be worse deposed than Sancho was.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven has restored you, you depose yourself.
+Oh, when young kings begin with scorn of justice,
+They make an omen to their after reign,
+And blot their annals in the foremost page.
+
+_Tor._ No more; lest you be made the first example,
+To show how I can punish.
+
+_Raym._ Once again:
+Let her be made your father's sacrifice,
+And after make me hers.
+
+_Tor._ Condemn a wife!
+That were to atone for parricide with murder.
+
+_Raym._ Then let her be divorced: we'll be content
+With that poor scanty justice; let her part.
+
+_Tor._ Divorce! that's worse than death, 'tis death of love.
+
+_Leo._ The soul and body part not with such pain,
+As I from you; but yet 'tis just, my lord:
+I am the accurst of heaven, the hate of earth,
+Your subjects' detestation, and your ruin;
+And therefore fix this doom upon myself.
+
+_Tor._ Heaven! Can you wish it, to be mine no more?
+
+_Leo._ Yes, I can wish it, as the dearest proof,
+And last, that I can make you of my love.
+To leave you blest, I would be more accurst
+Than death can make me; for death ends our woes,
+And the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene:
+But I would live without you, to be wretched long;
+And hoard up every moment of my life,
+To lengthen out the payment of my tears,
+Till even fierce Raymond, at the last, shall say,--
+Now let her die, for she has grieved enough.
+
+_Tor._ Hear this, hear this, thou tribune of the people!
+Thou zealous, public blood-hound, hear, and melt!
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside._]
+I could cry now; my eyes grow womanish,
+But yet my heart holds out.
+
+_Leo._ Some solitary cloister will I chuse,
+And there with holy virgins live immured:
+Coarse my attire, and short shall be my sleep,
+Broke by the melancholy midnight bell.
+Now, Raymond, now be satisfied at last:
+Fasting and tears, and penitence and prayer,
+Shall do dead Sancho justice every hour.
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside._] By your leave, manhood!          [_Wipes his eyes._
+
+_Tor._ He weeps! now he is vanquished.
+
+_Raym._ No: 'tis a salt rheum, that scalds my eyes.
+
+_Leo._ If he were vanquished, I am still unconquered.
+I'll leave you in the height of all my love,
+Even when my heart is beating out its way,
+And struggles to you most.
+Farewell, a last farewell, my dear, dear lord!
+Remember me!--speak, Raymond, will you let him?
+Shall he remember Leonora's love,
+And shed a parting tear to her misfortunes?
+
+_Raym._ [_Almost crying._] Yes, yes, he shall; pray go.
+
+_Tor._ Now, by my soul, she shall not go: why, Raymond,
+Her every tear is worth a father's life.
+Come to my arms, come, my fair penitent!
+Let us not think what future ills may fall.
+But drink deep draughts of love, and lose them all.
+                                      [_Exeunt_ TOR. _with the Queen._
+
+_Raym._ No matter yet, he has my hook within him.
+Now let him frisk and flounce, and run and roll,
+And think to break his hold; he toils in vain.
+This love, the bait he gorged so greedily,
+Will make him sick, and then I have him sure.
+
+  _Enter_ ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Alph._ Brother, there's news from Bertran; he desires
+Admittance to the king, and cries aloud,--
+This day shall end our fears of civil war!--
+For his safe conduct he entreats your presence,
+And begs you would be speedy.
+
+_Raym._ Though I loath
+The traitor's sight, I'll go. Attend us here.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ, ELVIRA, DOMINICK, _with Officers, to make the Stage
+  as full as possible._
+
+_Ped._ Why, how now, Gomez? what mak'st thou here, with a whole
+brotherhood of city-bailiffs? Why, thou look'st like Adam in Paradise,
+with his guard of beasts about him.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, and a man had need of them, Don Pedro; for here are the two
+old seducers, a wife and priest,--that's Eve and the serpent,--at my
+elbow.
+
+_Dom._ Take notice how uncharitably he talks of churchmen.
+
+_Gom._ Indeed, you are a charitable belswagger! My wife cried out,--
+"Fire, fire!" and you brought out your church-buckets, and called for
+engines to play against it.
+
+_Alph._ I am sorry you are come hither to accuse your wife; her
+education has been virtuous, her nature mild and easy.
+
+_Gom._ Yes! she's easy, with a vengeance; there's a certain colonel
+has found her so.
+
+_Alph._ She came a spotless virgin to your bed.
+
+_Gom._ And she's a spotless virgin still for me--she's never the worse
+for my wearing, I'll take my oath on't. I have lived with her with all
+the innocence of a man of threescore, like a peaceable bed-fellow as I
+am.
+
+_Elv._ Indeed, sir, I have no reason to complain of him for disturbing
+of my sleep.
+
+_Dom._ A fine commendation you have given yourself; the church did not
+marry you for that.
+
+_Ped._ Come, come, your grievances, your grievances.
+
+_Dom._ Why, noble sir, I'll tell you.
+
+_Gom._ Peace, friar! and let me speak first. I am the plaintiff. Sure
+you think you are in the pulpit, where you preach by hours.
+
+_Dom._ And you edify by minutes.
+
+_Gom._ Where you make doctrines for the people, and uses and
+applications for yourselves.
+
+_Ped._ Gomez, give way to the old gentleman in black.
+
+_Gom._ No! the t'other old gentleman in black shall take me if I do; I
+will speak first!--Nay, I will, friar, for all your _verbum
+sacerdotis_. I'll speak truth in few words, and then you may come
+afterwards and lie by the clock as you use to do.--For, let me tell
+you, gentlemen, he shall lie and forswear himself with any friar in
+all Spain; that's a bold word now.--
+
+_Dom._ Let him alone; let him alone; I shall fetch him back with a
+_circum-bendibus_, I warrant him.
+
+_Alph._ Well, what have you to say against your wife, Gomez?
+
+_Gom._ Why, I say, in the first place, that I and all men are married
+for our sins, and that our wives are a judgment; that a
+batchelor-cobler is a happier man than a prince in wedlock; that we
+are all visited with a household plague, and, _Lord have mercy upon
+us_ should be written on all our doors[2].
+
+_Dom._ Now he reviles marriage, which is one of the seven blessed
+sacraments.
+
+_Gom._ 'Tis liker one of the seven deadly sins: but make your best
+on't, I care not; 'tis but binding a man neck and heels, for all that.
+But, as for my wife, that crocodile of Nilus, she has wickedly and
+traitorously conspired the cuckoldom of me, her anointed sovereign
+lord; and, with the help of the aforesaid friar, whom heaven confound,
+and with the limbs of one colonel Hernando, cuckold-maker of this
+city, devilishly contrived to steal herself away, and under her arm
+feloniously to bear one casket of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels,
+to the value of 30,000 pistoles.--Guilty, or not guilty? how sayest
+thou, culprit?
+
+_Dom._ False and scandalous! Give me the book. I'll take my corporal
+oath point-blank against every particular of this charge.
+
+_Elv._ And so will I.
+
+_Dom._ As I was walking in the streets, telling my beads, and praying
+to myself, according to my usual custom, I heard a foul out-cry before
+Gomez' portal; and his wife, my penitent, making doleful lamentations:
+thereupon, making what haste my limbs would suffer me, that are
+crippled with often kneeling, I saw him spurning and listing her most
+unmercifully; whereupon, using Christian arguments with him to desist,
+he fell violently upon me, without respect to my sacerdotal orders,
+pushed me from him, and turned me about with a finger and a thumb,
+just as a man would set up a top. Mercy! quoth I.--Damme! quoth
+he;--and still continued labouring me, until a good-minded colonel
+came by, whom, as heaven shall save me, I had never seen before.
+
+_Gom._ O Lord! O Lord!
+
+_Dom._ Ay, and O lady! O lady too!--I redouble my oath, I had never
+seen him. Well, this noble colonel, like a true gentleman, was for
+taking the weaker part, you may be sure; whereupon this Gomez flew
+upon him like a dragon, got him down, the devil being strong in him,
+and gave him bastinado upon bastinado, and buffet upon buffet, which
+the poor meek colonel, being prostrate, suffered with a most Christian
+patience.
+
+_Gom._ Who? he meek? I'm sure I quake at the very thought of him; why,
+he's as fierce as Rhodomont; he made assault and battery upon my
+person, beat me into all the colours of the rainbow; and every word
+this abominable priest has uttered is as false as the Alcoran. But if
+you want a thorough-paced liar, that will swear through thick and
+thin, commend me to a friar.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, _who comes behind the Company, and stands at his
+  Fathers back unseen, over-against_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Lor._ How now! What's here to do? my cause a trying, as I live, and
+that before my own father.--Now fourscore take him for an old bawdy
+magistrate, that stands like the picture of madam Justice, with a pair
+of scales in his hand, to weigh lechery by ounces!           [_Aside._
+
+_Alph._ Well--but all this while, who is this colonel Hernando?
+
+_Gom._ He's the first begotten of Beelzebub, with a face as terrible
+as Demogorgon.                 [LORENZO _peeps over_ ALPHONSO'S _Head,
+                                and stares at_ GOMEZ.
+No! I lie, I lie. He's a very proper handsome fellow! well
+proportioned, and clean shaped, with a face like a cherubin.
+
+_Ped._ What, backward and forward, Gomez! dost thou hunt counter?
+
+_Alph._ Had this colonel any former design upon your wife? for, if
+that be proved, you shall have justice.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] Now I dare speak,--let him look as dreadfully as he
+will.--I say, sir, and I will prove it, that he had a lewd design upon
+her body, and attempted to corrupt her honesty.
+                         [LORENZO _lifts up his fist clenched at him._
+I confess my wife was as willing--as himself; and, I believe, 'twas
+she corrupted him; for I have known him formerly a very civil and
+modest person.
+
+_Elv._ You see, sir, he contradicts himself at every word; he's
+plainly mad.
+
+_Alph._ Speak boldly, man! and say what thou wilt stand by: did he
+strike thee?
+
+_Gom._ I will speak boldly; he struck me on the face before my own
+threshold, that the very walls cried shame to him.
+                                            [LORENZO _holds up again._
+'Tis true, I gave him provocation, for the man's as peaceable a
+gentleman as any is in all Spain.
+
+_Dom._ Now the truth comes out, in spite of him.
+
+_Ped._ I believe the friar has bewitched him.
+
+_Alph._ For my part, I see no wrong that has been offered him.
+
+_Gom._ How? no wrong? why, he ravished me, with the help of two
+soldiers, carried me away _vi et armis,_ and would put me into a
+plot against government.                    [LORENZO _holds up again._
+I confess, I never could endure the government, because it was
+tyrannical; but my sides and shoulders are black and blue, as I can
+strip and show the marks of them.                    [LORENZO _again._
+But that might happen, too, by a fall that I got yesterday upon the
+pebbles.                                                 [_All laugh._
+
+_Dom._ Fresh straw, and a dark chamber; a most manifest judgment!
+there never comes better of railing against the church.
+
+_Gom._ Why, what will you have me say? I think you'll make me mad:
+truth has been at my tongue's end this half hour, and I have not power
+to bring it out, for fear of this bloody-minded colonel.
+
+_Alph._ What colonel?
+
+_Gom._ Why, my colonel--I mean my wife's colonel, that appears there
+to me like my _malus genius_, terrifies me.
+
+_Alph._ [_Turning._] Now you are mad indeed, Gomez; this is my son
+Lorenzo.
+
+_Gom._ How? your son Lorenzo! it is impossible.
+
+_Alph._ As true as your wife Elvira is my daughter.
+
+_Lor._ What, have I taken all this pains about a sister?
+
+_Gom._ No, you have taken some about me; I am sure, if you are her
+brother, my sides can show the tokens of our alliance.
+
+_Alph._ to _Lor._ You know I put your sister into a nunnery, with a
+strict command not to see you, for fear you should have wrought upon
+her to have taken the habit, which was never my intention; and
+consequently, I married her without your knowledge, that it might not
+be in your power to prevent it.
+
+_Elv._ You see, brother, I had a natural affection to you.
+
+_Lor._ What a delicious harlot have I lost! Now, pox upon me, for
+being so near a-kin to thee!
+
+_Elv._ However, we are both beholden to friar Dominick; the church is
+an indulgent mother, she never fails to do her part.
+
+_Dom._ Heavens! what will become of me?
+
+_Gom._ Why, you are not like to trouble heaven; those fat guts were
+never made for mounting.
+
+_Lor._ I shall make bold to disburden him of my hundred pistoles, to
+make him the lighter for his journey: indeed, 'tis partly out of
+conscience, that I may not be accessory to his breaking his vow of
+poverty.
+
+_Alph._ I have no secular power to reward the pains you have taken
+with my daughter; but I shall do it by proxy, friar: your bishop's my
+friend, and is too honest to let such as you infect a cloister.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, do, father-in-law, let him be stript of his habit, and
+disordered.--I would fain see him walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit,
+without his holy fur upon his back, that the world may once behold the
+inside of a friar.
+
+_Dom._ Farewell, kind gentlemen; I give you all my blessing before I
+go.--May your sisters, wives, and daughters, be so naturally lewd,
+that they may have no occasion for a devil to tempt, or a friar to
+pimp for them.                   [_Exeunt, with a rabble pushing him._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, LEONORA, BERTRAN, RAYMOND, TERESA, &c.
+
+_Tor._ He lives! he lives! my royal father lives!
+Let every one partake the general joy.
+Some angel with a golden trumpet sound,
+King Sancho lives! and let the echoing skies
+From pole to pole resound, king Sancho lives!--
+Bertran, oh! no more my foe, but brother;
+One act like this blots out a thousand crimes.
+
+_Bert._ Bad men, when 'tis their interest, may do good.
+I must confess, I counselled Sancho's murder;
+And urged the queen by specious arguments:
+But, still suspecting that her love was changed,
+I spread abroad the rumour of his death,
+To sound the very soul of her designs.
+The event, you know, was answering to my fears;
+She threw the odium of the fact on me,
+And publicly avowed her love to you.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven guided all, to save the innocent.
+
+_Bert._ I plead no merit, but a bare forgiveness.
+
+_Tor._ Not only that, but favour. Sancho's life,
+Whether by virtue or design preserved,
+Claims all within my power.
+
+_Leo._ My prayers are heard;
+And I have nothing farther to desire,
+But Sancho's leave to authorise our marriage.
+
+_Tor._ Oh! fear not him! pity and he are one;
+So merciful a king did never live;
+Loth to revenge, and easy to forgive.
+  But let the bold conspirator beware,
+  For heaven makes princes its peculiar care.               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Alluding to the common superstition, that the continuance of the
+   favours of fairies depends upon the receiver's secrecy:--"This is
+   fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it close;
+   home, home, the nearest way. We are lucky, boy, and, to be so
+   still, requires nothing but secrecy;" _Winter's Tale._
+
+2. A red cross, with the words, "Lord have mercy upon us," was placed,
+   during the great plague, upon the houses visited by the disease.
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+                     BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S.
+
+
+  There's none, I'm sure, who is a friend to love,
+  But will our Friar's character approve:
+  The ablest spark among you sometimes needs
+  Such pious help, for charitable deeds.
+  Our church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want
+  These ghostly comforts for the falling saint:
+  This gains them their whore-converts, and may be
+  One reason of the growth of popery.
+  So Mahomet's religion came in fashion,
+  By the large leave it gave to fornication.
+  Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well;
+  There is no Dives in the Roman Hell:
+  Gold opens the strait gate, and lets him in;
+  But want of money is a mortal sin.
+  For all besides you may discount to heaven,
+  And drop a bead to keep the tallies even.
+  How are men cozened still with shows of good!
+  The bawd's best mask is the grave friar's hood;
+  Though vice no more a clergyman displeases,
+  Than doctors can be thought to hate diseases.
+  'Tis by your living ill, that they live well,
+  By your debauches, their fat paunches swell.
+  'Tis a mock-war between the priest and devil;
+  When they think fit, they can be very civil.
+  As some, who did French counsels most advance,
+  To blind the world, have railed in print at France,
+  Thus do the clergy at your vices bawl,
+  That with more ease they may engross them all.
+  By damning yours, they do their own maintain;
+  A churchman's godliness is always gain:
+  Hence to their prince they will superior be;
+  And civil treason grows church loyalty.
+  They boast the gift of heaven is in their power;
+  Well may they give the god, they can devour!
+  Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay;
+  For 'tis on carrion that the vermin prey.
+  Nor have they less dominion on our life,
+  They trot the husband, and they pace the wife.
+  Rouse up, you cuckolds of the northern climes,
+  And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes.
+  Unman the Friar, and leave the holy drone
+  To hum in his forsaken hive alone;
+  He'll work no honey, when his sting is gone.
+  Your wives and daughters soon will leave the cells,
+  When they have lost the sound of Aaron's bells.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                       END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.
+
+
+                              Edinburgh,
+
+                    Printed by J. Ballantyne & Co.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of
+18), by John Dryden
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18), by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18)
+       Limberham; Oedipus; Troilus and Cressida; The Spanish Friar
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2005 [EBook #16456]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE</p>
+<h1 class="nomarg">WORKS</h1>
+<p class="ctr">OF</p>
+<h2 class="nomarg">JOHN DRYDEN,</h2>
+<p class="ctr">NOW FIRST COLLECTED</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg"><i>IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES.</i></h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />ILLUSTRATED</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">WITH NOTES,</h3>
+<p class="ctr">HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,</p>
+<p class="ctr">AND</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,</h3>
+<p class="ctr">BY</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">WALTER SCOTT, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span></h3>
+
+<h3>VOL. VI.</h3>
+<h3>LONDON:</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr">PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,<br />
+BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.</p>
+
+<h3>1808.</h3>
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OF</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">VOLUME SIXTH.</h3>
+
+<div><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_001">Limberham, or the Kind Keeper, a Comedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc"><li><a href="#page_006">Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Vaughan</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_012">[Text of the play]</a></li></ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_115">&OElig;dipus, a Tragedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc"><li><a href="#page_124">Preface</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_128">[Text of the play]</a></li></ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_227">Troilus and Cressida, or Truth found too late, a Tragedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc"><li><a href="#page_231">Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Sunderland</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_238">Preface</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_267">[Text of the play]</a></li></ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_365">The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc"><li><a href="#page_373">Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Haughton</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_382">[Text of the play]</a></li></ul></li>
+</ul></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><span class="pgnm">001</span><a id="page_001" name="page_001"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">LIMBERHAM;</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OR,</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">THE KIND KEEPER.</h3>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+COMEDY.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram"><span class="Greek" title="K&ecirc;n me phag&ecirc;s epi rhizan, homôs eti karpophor&ecirc;sô.">
+&Kappa;&eta;&nu;
+&mu;&epsilon;
+&phi;&alpha;&gamma;&eta;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&pi;&iota;
+&rho;&iota;&zeta;&alpha;&nu;,
+&omicron;&mu;&omega;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&tau;&iota;
+&kappa;&alpha;&rho;&pi;&omicron;&phi;&omicron;&rho;&eta;&sigma;&omega;.
+</span></p>
+<p class="citation"><span class="Greek" title="Anthologia Dentera.">
+&Alpha;&nu;&theta;&omicron;&lambda;&omicron;&gamma;&iota;&alpha;
+&Delta;&epsilon;&nu;&tau;&iota;&rho;&alpha;.
+</span></p></td></tr>
+</table>
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram"><i>Hic nuptarum insanit amoribus; hic meretricum:<br />
+<span class="i1">Omnes hi metuunt versus; odere poetas.</span></i></p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Horat.</p></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">003</span><a id="page_003" name="page_003"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">LIMBERHAM.</h3>
+
+<p>The extreme indelicacy of this play would, in the present times
+furnish ample and most just grounds for the unfavourable reception
+it met with from the public. But in the reign of Charles II. many
+plays were applauded, in which the painting is, at least, as coarse as
+that of Dryden. "Bellamira, or the Mistress," a gross translation by
+Sir Charles Sedley of Terence's "Eunuchus," had been often represented
+with the highest approbation. But the satire of Dryden was
+rather accounted too personal, than too loose. The character of Limberham
+has been supposed to represent Lauderdale, whose age
+and uncouth figure rendered ridiculous his ungainly affectation of
+fashionable vices. Mr Malone intimates a suspicion, that Shaftesbury
+was the person levelled at, whose lameness and infirmities made the
+satire equally poignant. In either supposition, a powerful and
+leading nobleman was offended, to whose party all seem to have
+drawn, whose loose conduct, in that loose age, exposed them to be
+duped like the hero of the play. It is a singular mark of the
+dissolute manners of those times, that an audience, to whom matrimonial
+infidelity was nightly held out, not only as the most venial
+of trespasses, but as a matter of triumphant applause, were
+unable to brook any ridicule, upon the mere transitory connection
+formed betwixt the keeper and his mistress. Dryden had spared
+neither kind of union; and accordingly his opponents exclaimed,
+"That he lampooned the court, to oblige his friends in the city, and
+ridiculed the city, to secure a promising lord at court; exposed
+the kind keepers of Covent Garden, to please the cuckolds of
+Cheapside; and drolled on the city Do-littles, to tickle the Covent-Garden
+Limberhams<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_1-1">[1]</a>." Even Langbaine, relentless as he is in criticism,
+seems to have considered the condemnation of Limberham
+as the vengeance of the faction ridiculed.</p>
+
+<p>"In this play, (which I take to be the best comedy of his) he
+so much exposed the keeping part of the town, that the play was
+stopt when it had but thrice appeared on the stage; but the
+<span class="pgnm">004</span><a id="page_004" name="page_004"></a>
+author took a becoming care, that the things that offended on
+the stage, were either altered or omitted in the press. One of
+our modern writers, in a short satire against keeping, concludes
+thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>"Dryden, good man, thought keepers to reclaim,</p>
+<p>Writ a kind satire, call'd it Limberham.</p>
+<p>This all the herd of letchers straight alarms;</p>
+<p>From Charing-Cross to Bow was up in arms:</p>
+<p>They damn'd the play all at one fatal blow,</p>
+<p>And broke the glass, that did their picture show."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr Malone mentions his having seen a MS. copy of this play,
+found by Lord Bolingbroke among the sweepings of Pope's study,
+in which there occur several indecent passages, not to be found
+in the printed copy. These, doubtless, constituted the castrations,
+which, in obedience to the public voice, our author expunged from
+his play, after its condemnation. It is difficult to guess what could
+be the nature of the indecencies struck out, when we consider those
+which the poet deemed himself at liberty to retain.</p>
+
+<p>The reader will probably easily excuse any remarks upon this
+comedy. It is not absolutely without humour, but is so disgustingly
+coarse, as entirely to destroy that merit. Langbaine, with his
+usual anxiety of research, traces back a few of the incidents to the
+novels of Cinthio Giraldi, and to those of some forgotten French
+authors.</p>
+
+<p>Plays, even of this nature, being worth preservation, as containing
+genuine traces of the manners of the age in which they
+appear, I cannot but remark the promiscuous intercourse, which,
+in this comedy and others, is represented as taking place betwixt
+women of character, and those who made no pretensions to it. Bellamira
+in Sir Charles Sedley's play, and Mrs Tricksy in the following
+pages, are admitted into company with the modest female
+characters, without the least hint of exception or impropriety.
+Such were actually the manners of Charles the II.d's time, where
+we find the mistresses of the king, and his brothers, familiar
+in the highest circles. It appears, from the evidence in the case
+of the duchess of Norfolk for adultery, that Nell Gwyn was living
+with her Grace in familiar habits; her society, doubtless, paving
+the way for the intrigue, by which the unfortunate lady lost her
+rank and reputation<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_1-2">[2]</a>. It is always symptomatic of a total decay
+of morals, where female reputation neither confers dignity,
+<span class="pgnm">005</span><a id="page_005" name="page_005"></a>
+nor excites pride, in its possessor; but is consistent with her
+mingling in the society of the libertine and the profligate.</p>
+
+<p>Some of Dryden's libellers draw an invidious comparison betwixt
+his own private life and this satire; and exhort him to</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Be to vices, which he practised, kind.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">But of the injustice of this charge on Dryden's character, we
+have spoken fully elsewhere. Undoubtedly he had the licence
+of this, and his other dramatic writings, in his mind, when he wrote
+the following verses; where the impurity of the stage is traced to
+its radical source, the debauchery of the court:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Then courts of kings were held in high renown,</p>
+<p>Ere made the common brothels of the town.</p>
+<p>There virgins honourable vows received,</p>
+<p>But chaste, as maids in monasteries, lived.</p>
+<p>The king himself, to nuptial rites a slave,</p>
+<p>No bad example to his poets gave;</p>
+<p>And they, not bad, but in a vicious age,</p>
+<p>Had not, to please the prince, debauched the stage.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Wife of Bath's Tale.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Limberham" was acted at the Duke's Theatre in Dorset-Garden;
+for, being a satire upon a court vice, it was deemed peculiarly
+calculated for that play-house. The concourse of the citizens thither
+is alluded to in the prologue to "Marriage-a-la-Mode." Ravenscroft
+also, in his epilogue to the "Citizen turned Gentleman,"
+acted at the same theatre, disowns the patronage of the courtiers
+who kept mistresses, probably because they Constituted the minor
+part of his audience:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>From the court party we hope no success;</p>
+<p>Our author is not one of the noblesse,</p>
+<p>That bravely does maintain his miss in town,</p>
+<p>Whilst my great lady is with speed sent down,</p>
+<p>And forced in country mansion-house to fix.</p>
+<p>That miss may rattle here in coach-and-six.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The stage for introducing "Limberham" was therefore judiciously
+chosen, although the piece was ill received, and withdrawn after
+being only thrice represented. It was printed in 1678.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Limbe_1-1" name="Limbe_1-1"></a>Reasons for Mr Bayes changing his Religion, p. 24.</li>
+<li><a id="Limbe_1-2" name="Limbe_1-2"></a>See State Trials, vol. viii. pp. 17, 18.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">006</span><a id="page_006" name="page_006"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+JOHN,
+LORD VAUGHAN, &amp;c<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind smcap">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>I cannot easily excuse the printing of a play at so
+unseasonable a time<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_2-2">[2]</a>, when the great plot of the
+nation, like one of Pharaoh's lean kine, has devoured
+<span class="pgnm">007</span><a id="page_007" name="page_007"></a>
+its younger brethren of the stage. But however
+weak my defence might be for this, I am sure I
+should not need any to the world for my dedication
+to your lordship; and if you can pardon my presumption
+in it, that a bad poet should address himself
+to so great a judge of wit, I may hope at least
+to escape with the excuse of Catullus, when he writ
+to Cicero:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Gratias tibi maximas Catullus</p>
+<p>Agit, pessimus omnium, poeta;</p>
+<p>Tanto pessimus omnium poeta,</p>
+<p>Quanto tu optimns omnium patronus.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I have seen an epistle of Flecknoe's to a nobleman,
+who was by some extraordinary chance a scholar;
+(and you may please to take notice by the way, how
+natural the connection of thought is betwixt a bad
+poet and Flecknoe) where he begins thus: <i>Quatuordecim
+jam elapsi sunt anni,</i> &amp;c.; his Latin, it seems,
+not holding out to the end of the sentence: but he
+endeavoured to tell his patron, betwixt two languages
+which he understood alike, that it was fourteen
+years since he had the happiness to know him.
+It is just so long, (and as happy be the omen of dulness
+to me, as it is to some clergymen and statesmen!)
+since your lordship has known, that there is a
+worse poet remaining in the world, than he of scandalous
+memory, who left it last<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_2-3">[3]</a>. I might enlarge
+<span class="pgnm">008</span><a id="page_008" name="page_008"></a>
+upon the subject with my author, and assure you,
+that I have served as long for you, as one of the
+patriarchs did for his Old-Testament mistress; but I
+leave those flourishes, when occasion shall serve, for
+a greater orator to use, and dare only tell you, that
+I never passed any part of my life with greater
+satisfaction or improvement to myself, than those
+years which I have lived in the honour of your
+lordship's acquaintance; if I may have only the
+time abated when the public service called you to
+another part of the world, which, in imitation of
+our florid speakers, I might (if I durst presume upon
+the expression) call the <i>parenthesis of my life</i>.</p>
+
+<p>That I have always honoured you, I suppose I
+need not tell you at this time of day; for you know
+I staid not to date my respects to you from that
+title which now you have, and to which you bring
+a greater addition by your merit, than you receive
+from it by the name; but I am proud to let others
+know, how long it is that I have been made happy
+by my knowledge of you; because I am sure it will
+give me a reputation with the present age, and with
+posterity. And now, my lord, I know you are
+afraid, lest I should take this occasion, which lies
+<span class="pgnm">009</span><a id="page_009" name="page_009"></a>
+so fair for me, to acquaint the world with some of
+those excellencies which I have admired in you;
+but I have reasonably considered, that to acquaint
+the world, is a phrase of a malicious meaning; for
+it would imply, that the world were not already
+acquainted with them. You are so generally known
+to be above the meanness of my praises, that you
+have spared my evidence, and spoiled my compliment:
+Should I take for my common places, your
+knowledge both of the old and the new philosophy;
+should I add to these your skill in mathematics
+and history; and yet farther, your being conversant
+with all the ancient authors of the Greek and Latin
+tongues, as well as with the modern&mdash;I should tell
+nothing new to mankind; for when I have once
+but named you, the world will anticipate all my
+commendations, and go faster before me than I can
+follow. Be therefore secure, my lord, that your own
+fame has freed itself from the danger of a panegyric;
+and only give me leave to tell you, that I value the
+candour of your nature, and that one character of
+friendliness, and, if I may have leave to call it, kindness
+in you, before all those other which make you
+considerable in the nation<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_2-4">[4]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Some few of our nobility are learned, and therefore
+I will not conclude an absolute contradiction
+in the terms of nobleman and scholar; but as the
+<span class="pgnm">010</span><a id="page_010" name="page_010"></a>
+world goes now, 'tis very hard to predicate one upon
+the other; and 'tis yet more difficult to prove, that
+a nobleman can be a friend to poetry. Were it not
+for two or three instances in Whitehall, and in the
+town, the poets of this age would find so little encouragement
+for their labours, and so few understanders,
+that they might have leisure to turn pamphleteers,
+and augment the number of those abominable
+scribblers, who, in this time of licence, abuse the
+press, almost every day, with nonsense, and railing
+against the government.</p>
+
+<p>It remains, my lord, that I should give you some
+account of this comedy, which you have never seen;
+because it was written and acted in your absence,
+at your government of Jamaica. It was intended
+for an honest satire against our crying sin of <i>keeping</i>;
+how it would have succeeded, I can but guess,
+for it was permitted to be acted only thrice. The
+crime, for which it suffered, was that which is objected
+against the satires of Juvenal, and the epigrams
+of Catullus, that it expressed too much of the vice
+which it decried. Your lordship knows what answer
+was returned by the elder of those poets, whom
+I last mentioned, to his accusers:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;castum esse decet pium poetam</p>
+<p>Ipsum. Versiculos nihil necesse est:</p>
+<p>Qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem</p>
+<p>Si sint molliculi et parum pudici.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">But I dare not make that apology for myself; and
+therefore have taken a becoming care, that those
+things which offended on the stage, might be either
+altered, or omitted in the press; for their authority
+is, and shall be, ever sacred to me, as much absent
+as present, and in all alterations of their fortune,
+who for those reasons have stopped its farther appearance
+on the theatre. And whatsoever hindrance
+it has been to me in point of profit, many of my
+<span class="pgnm">011</span><a id="page_011" name="page_011"></a>
+friends can bear me witness, that I have not once
+murmured against that decree. The same fortune
+once happened to Moliere, on the occasion of his
+"Tartuffe;" which, notwithstanding, afterwards has
+seen the light, in a country more bigot than ours,
+and is accounted amongst the best pieces of that
+poet. I will be bold enough to say, that this comedy
+is of the first rank of those which I have written,
+and that posterity will be of my opinion. It
+has nothing of particular satire in it; for whatsoever
+may have been pretended by some critics in
+the town, I may safely and solemnly affirm, that
+no one character has been drawn from any single
+man; and that I have known so many of the same
+humour, in every folly which is here exposed, as
+may serve to warrant it from a particular reflection.
+It was printed in my absence from the town, this
+summer, much against my expectation; otherwise
+I had over-looked the press, and been yet more careful,
+that neither my friends should have had the
+least occasion of unkindness against me, nor my
+enemies of upbraiding me; but if it live to a second
+impression, I will faithfully perform what has been
+wanting in this. In the mean time, my lord, I recommend
+it to your protection, and beg I may keep
+still that place in your favour which I have hitherto
+enjoyed; and which I shall reckon as one of the
+greatest blessings which can befall,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1">My Lord,</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Your Lordship's most obedient,</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Faithful servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i4 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Limbe_2-1" name="Limbe_2-1"></a>John, Lord Vaughan, was the eldest surviving son of Richard,
+Earl of Carbery, to which title he afterwards succeeded. He was
+a man of literature, and president of the Royal Society from 1686
+to 1689. Dryden was distinguished by his patronage as far back
+as 1664, being fourteen years before the acting of this play. Lord
+Vaughan had thus the honour of discovering and admiring the
+poet's genius, before the public applause had fixed his fame; and,
+probably better deserved the panegyric here bestowed, than was
+Usual among Dryden's patrons. He wrote a recommendatory
+copy of verses, which are prefixed to "The Conquest of Granada."
+Mr Malone informs us, that this accomplished nobleman died at
+Chelsea, on 16th January, 1712-13.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_2-2" name="Limbe_2-2"></a>The great popish plot, that scene of mystery and blood, broke
+out in August 1678.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_2-3" name="Limbe_2-3"></a>Flecknoe was a Roman Catholic priest, very much addicted to
+scribbling verses. His name has been chiefly preserved by our
+author's satire of "Mack-Flecknoe;" in which he has depicted
+Shadwell, as the literary son and heir of this wretched poetaster. A
+few farther particulars concerning him may be found prefixed to
+that poem. Flecknoe, from this dedication, appears to have been
+just deceased. The particular passage referred to has not been
+discovered; even Langbaine had never seen it: but Mr Malone points
+out a letter of Flecknoe to the Cardinal Barberini, whereof the
+first sentence is in Latin, and the next in English. Our author, in
+an uncommon strain of self-depreciation, or rather to give a neat
+turn to his sentence, has avouched himself to be a worse poet than
+Flecknoe. But expressions of modesty in a dedication, like those
+of panegyric, are not to be understood literally. As in the latter,
+Dryden often strains a note beyond <i>Ela</i>, so, on the present occasion,
+he has certainly sounded the very base string of humility. Poor
+Flecknoe, indeed, seems to have become proverbial, as the worst
+of poets. The Earl of Dorset thus begins a satire on Edward
+Howard:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Those damned antipodes to common sense,</p>
+<p>Those toils to Flecknoe, pr'ythee, tell me whence</p>
+<p>Does all this mighty mass of dulness spring,</p>
+<p>Which in such loads thou to the stage dost bring?</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_2-4" name="Limbe_2-4"></a>There is a very flat and prosaic imitation of this sentiment in
+the Duke of Buckingham's lines to Pope:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>And yet so wondrous, so sublime a thing</p>
+<p>As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing;</p>
+<p>Except I justly could at once commend</p>
+<p>A good companion, and as firm a friend;</p>
+<p>One moral, or a mere well-natured deed,</p>
+<p>Does all desert in sciences exceed.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Thus prose may be humbled, as well as exalted; into poetry.</p></li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">012</span><a id="page_012" name="page_012"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>True wit has seen its best days long ago;</p>
+<p>It ne'er looked up, since we were dipt in show;</p>
+<p>When sense in doggrel rhimes and clouds was lost,</p>
+<p>And dulness flourished at the actor's cost.</p>
+<p>Nor stopt it here; when tragedy was done,</p>
+<p>Satire and humour the same fate have run,</p>
+<p>And comedy is sunk to trick and pun.</p>
+<p>Now our machining lumber will not sell,</p>
+<p>And you no longer care for heaven or hell;</p>
+<p>What stuff will please you next, the Lord can tell.</p>
+<p>Let them, who the rebellion first began</p>
+<p>To wit, restore the monarch, if they can;</p>
+<p>Our author dares not be the first bold man.</p>
+<p>He, like the prudent citizen, takes care,</p>
+<p>To keep for better marts his staple ware;</p>
+<p>His toys are good enough for Sturbridge fair.</p>
+<p>Tricks were the fashion; if it now be spent,</p>
+<p>'Tis time enough at Easter, to invent;</p>
+<p>No man will make up a new suit for Lent.</p>
+<p>If now and then he takes a small pretence,</p>
+<p>To forage for a little wit and sense,</p>
+<p>Pray pardon him, he meant you no offence.</p>
+<p>Next summer, Nostradamus tells, they say,</p>
+<p>That all the critics shall be shipped away,</p>
+<p>And not enow be left to damn a play.</p>
+<p>To every sail beside, good heaven, be kind;</p>
+<p>But drive away that swarm with such a wind,</p>
+<p>That not one locust may be left behind!</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">014</span><a id="page_014" name="page_014"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;</h3>
+
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Aldo,</span> <i>an honest, good-natured, free-hearted old gentleman
+of the town.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Woodall,</span> <i>his son, under a false name; bred abroad,
+and now returned from travel.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Limberham,</span> <i>a tame, foolish keeper, persuaded by
+what is last said to him, and changing next word.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Brainsick,</span> <i>a husband, who, being well conceited of
+himself, despises his wife: vehement and eloquent, as
+he thinks; but indeed a talker of nonsense.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Gervase, Woodall's</span> <i>man: formal, and apt to
+give good counsel.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Giles, Woodall's</span> <i>cast servant.</i><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Mrs Saintly,</span> <i>an hypocritical fanatic, landlady of the
+boarding-house.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Mrs Tricksy,</span> <i>a termagant kept mistress.</i></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Mrs Pleasance,</span> <i>supposed daughter to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs Saintly:</span><i>
+Spiteful and satirical; but secretly in love
+with</i> <span class="smcap">Woodall.</span></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Mrs Brainsick.</span></p>
+<p class="dpl"><span class="smcap">Judith,</span> <i>a maid of the house.</i></p>
+
+<p>SCENE&mdash;<i>A Boarding-house in Town.</i></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">015</span><a id="page_015" name="page_015"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">LIMBERHAM;</h3>
+<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">KIND KEEPER.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>An open Garden-House; a table in it,
+and chairs.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> and <span class="cnm">Gervase.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Bid the footman receive the trunks and
+portmantua; and see them placed in the lodgings
+you have taken for me, while I walk a turn here in
+the garden.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> It is already ordered, sir. But they are
+like to stay in the outer-room, till the mistress of
+the house return from morning exercise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What, she's gone to the parish church, it
+seems, to her devotions!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> No, sir; the servants have informed me,
+that she rises every morning, and goes to a private
+meeting-house; where they pray for the government,
+and practise against the authority of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> And hast thou trepanned me into a tabernacle
+of the godly? Is this pious boarding-house a
+place for me, thou wicked varlet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> According to human appearance, I must
+confess, it is neither fit for you, nor you for it; but
+<span class="pgnm">016</span><a id="page_016" name="page_016"></a>
+have patience, sir; matters are not so bad as they
+may seem. There are pious bawdy-houses in the
+world, or conventicles would not be so much frequented.
+Neither is it impossible, but a devout
+fanatic landlady of a boarding-house may be a bawd.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Ay, to those of her own church, I grant
+you, Gervase; but I am none of those.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> If I were worthy to read you a lecture in
+the mystery of wickedness, I would instruct you
+first in the art of seeming holiness: But, heaven be
+thanked, you have a toward and pregnant genius
+to vice, and need not any man's instruction; and I
+am too good, I thank my stars, for the vile employment
+of a pimp.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then thou art even too good for me; a
+worse man will serve my turn.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> I call your conscience to witness, how
+often I have given you wholesome counsel; how often
+I have said to you, with tears in my eyes, master,
+or master Aldo&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mr Woodall, you rogue! that is my <i>nomme
+de guerre.</i> You know I have laid by Aldo, for fear
+that name should bring me to the notice of my father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Cry you mercy, good Mr Woodall. How
+often have I said,&mdash;Into what courses do you run!
+Your father sent you into France at twelve years
+old; bred you up at Paris, first in a college, and
+then at an academy: At the first, instead of running
+through a course of philosophy, you ran through
+all the bawdy-houses in town: At the latter, instead
+of managing the great horse, you exercised on
+your master's wife. What you did in Germany, I
+know not; but that you beat them all at their own
+weapon, drinking, and have brought home a goblet
+of plate from Munster, for the prize of swallowing a
+gallon of Rhenish more than the bishop.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">017</span><a id="page_017" name="page_017"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Gervase, thou shalt be my chronicler; thou
+losest none of my heroic actions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> What a comfort are you like to prove to your
+good old father! You have run a campaigning among
+the French these last three years, without his leave;
+and now he sends for you back, to settle you in
+the world, and marry you to the heiress of a rich
+gentleman, of whom he had the guardianship, yet
+you do not make your application to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Pr'ythee, no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> You are come over, have been in town
+above a week <i>incognito</i>, haunting play-houses, and
+other places, which for modesty I name not; and
+have changed your name from Aldo to Woodall, for
+fear of being discovered to him: You have not so
+much as inquired where he is lodged, though you
+know he is most commonly in London: And lastly,
+you have discharged my honest fellow-servant Giles,
+because&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Because he was too saucy, and was ever
+offering to give me counsel: Mark that, and tremble
+at his destiny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> I know the reason why I am kept;
+because you cannot be discovered by my means; for
+you took me up in France, and your father knows
+me not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I must have a ramble in the town: When
+I have spent my money, I will grow dutiful, see
+my father, and ask for more. In the mean time, I
+have beheld a handsome woman at a play, I am
+fallen in love with her, and have found her easy:
+Thou, I thank thee, hast traced her to her lodging
+in this boarding-house, and hither I am come, to
+accomplish my design.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Well, heaven mend all. I hear our landlady's
+voice without; [<span class="sdm">Noise.</span>] and therefore shall defer
+my counsel to a fitter season.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">018</span><a id="page_018" name="page_018"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Not a syllable of counsel: The next grave
+sentence, thou marchest after Giles. Woodall's my
+name; remember that.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Is this the lady of the house?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Yes, Mr Woodall, for want of a better, as
+she will tell you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> She has a notable smack with her! I believe
+zeal first taught the art of kissing close.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Saluting her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> You are welcome, gentleman. Woodall
+is your name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I call myself so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> You look like a sober discreet gentleman;
+there is grace in your countenance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Some sprinklings of it, madam: We must
+not boast.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, boasting is of an evil principle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Faith, madam&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> No swearing, I beseech you. Of what
+church are you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Why, of Covent-Garden church, I think.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> How lewdly and ignorantly he answers!
+[<span class="sdm">Aside</span>] She means, of what religion are you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> O, does she so?&mdash;Why, I am of your religion,
+be it what it will; I warrant it a right one:
+I'll not stand with you for a trifle; presbyterian,
+independent, anabaptist, they are all of them too
+good for us, unless we had the grace to follow them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I see you are ignorant; but verily, you
+are a new vessel, and I may season you. I hope
+you do not use the parish-church.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Faith, madam&mdash;cry you mercy; (I forgot
+again) I have been in England but five days.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I find a certain motion within me to this
+young man, and must secure him to myself, ere he
+<span class="pgnm">019</span><a id="page_019" name="page_019"></a>
+see my lodgers. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;O, seriously, I had forgotten;
+your trunk and portmantua are standing in the
+hall; your lodgings are ready, and your man may
+place them, if he please, while you and I confer together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Go, Gervase, and do as you are directed.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ger.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> In the first place, you must know, we are
+a company of ourselves, and expect you should live
+conformably and lovingly amongst us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> There you have hit me. I am the most
+loving soul, and shall be conformable to all of you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> And to me especially. Then, I hope, you
+are no keeper of late hours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> No, no, my hours are very early; betwixt
+three and four in the morning, commonly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> That must be amended; but, to remedy
+the inconvenience, I will myself sit up for you. I
+hope, you would not offer violence to me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I think I should not, if I were sober.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Then, if you were overtaken, and should
+offer violence, and I consent not, you may do your
+filthy part, and I am blameless.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I think the devil's in her; she has
+given me the hint again.&mdash;Well, it shall go hard,
+but I will offer violence sometimes; will that content
+you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I have a cup of cordial water in my closet,
+which will help to strengthen nature, and to carry
+off a debauch: I do not invite you thither; but the
+house will be safe a-bed, and scandal will be avoided.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Hang scandal; I am above it at those times.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> But scandal is the greatest part of the offence;
+you must be secret. And I must warn you
+of another thing; there are, besides myself, two
+more young women in my house.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">020</span><a id="page_020" name="page_020"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] That, besides herself, is a cooling
+card.&mdash;Pray, how young are they?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> About my age: some eighteen, or twenty,
+or thereabouts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Oh, very good! Two more young women
+besides yourself, and both handsome?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> No, verily, they are painted outsides; you
+must not cast your eyes upon them, nor listen to
+their conversation: You are already chosen for a
+better work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I warrant you, let me alone: I am chosen, I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> They are a couple of alluring wanton minxes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Are they very alluring, say you? very wanton?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> You appear exalted, when I mention those
+pit-falls of iniquity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Who, I exalted? Good faith, I am as sober,
+a melancholy poor soul!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I see this abominable sin of swearing is
+rooted in you. Tear it out; oh, tear it out! it will
+destroy your precious soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I find we two shall scarce agree: I must
+not come to your closet when I have got a bottle;
+for, at such a time, I am horribly given to it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, a little swearing may be then allowable:
+You may swear you love me, it is a lawful
+oath; but then, you must not look on harlots.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I must wheedle her, and whet my courage
+first on her; as a good musician always preludes before
+a tune. Come, here is my first oath.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Embracing her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> How now, Mrs Saintly! what work have
+we here towards?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Aldo, my own natural father, as I
+live! I remember the lines of that hide-bound face:
+<span class="pgnm">021</span><a id="page_021" name="page_021"></a>
+Does he lodge here? If he should know me, I am
+ruined.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Curse on his coming! he has disturbed us.
+[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well, young gentleman, I shall take a time
+to instruct you better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You shall find me an apt scholar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I must go abroad upon some business; but
+remember your promise, to carry yourself soberly,
+and without scandal in my family; and so I leave
+you to this gentleman, who is a member of it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Saint.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Before George, a proper fellow,
+and a swinger he should be, by his make! the rogue
+would humble a whore, I warrant him.&mdash;You are
+welcome, sir, amongst us; most heartily welcome,
+as I may say.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> All's well: he knows me not.&mdash;Sir, your
+civility is obliging to a stranger, and may befriend
+me, in the acquaintance of our fellow-lodgers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Hold you there, sir: I must first understand
+you a little better; and yet, methinks, you
+should be true to love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Drinking and wenching are but slips of
+youth: I had those two good qualities from my father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Thou, boy! Aha, boy! a true Trojan, I
+warrant thee! [<span class="sdm">Hugging him.</span>] Well, I say no more;
+but you are lighted into such a family, such food
+for concupiscence, such <i>bona roba's</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> One I know, indeed; a wife: But <i>bona
+roba's</i>, say you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I say, <i>bona roba's</i>, in the plural number.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Why, what a Turk Mahomet shall I be!
+No, I will not make myself drunk with the conceit
+of so much joy: The fortune's too great for mortal
+man; and I a poor unworthy sinner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Would I lie to my friend? Am I a man?
+Am I a christian? There is that wife you mentioned,
+<span class="pgnm">022</span><a id="page_022" name="page_022"></a>
+a delicate little wheedling devil, with such an appearance
+of simplicity; and with that, she does so
+undermine, so fool her conceited husband, that he
+despises her!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Just ripe for horns: His destiny, like a
+Turk's, is written in his forehead.<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-1">[1]</a></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Peace, peace! thou art yet ordained for
+greater things. There is another, too, a kept mistress,
+a brave strapping jade, a two-handed whore!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A kept mistress, too! my bowels yearn to
+her already: she is certain prize.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> But this lady is so termagant an empress!
+and he is so submissive, so tame, so led a keeper, and as
+proud of his slavery as a Frenchman. I am confident
+he dares not find her false, for fear of a quarrel
+with her; because he is sure to be at the charges
+of the war. She knows he cannot live without her,
+and therefore seeks occasions of falling out, to make
+him purchase peace. I believe she is now aiming
+at a settlement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Might not I ask you one civil question?
+How pass you your time in this noble family? For
+I find you are a lover of the game, and I should be
+loth to hunt in your purlieus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I must first tell you something of my condition.
+I am here a friend to all of them; I am their
+<i>factotum</i>, do all their business; for, not to boast,
+sir, I am a man of general acquaintance: There is
+no news in town, either foreign or domestic, but I
+have it first; no mortgage of lands, no sale of houses,
+but I have a finger in them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">023</span><a id="page_023" name="page_023"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then, I suppose, you are a gainer by your
+pains.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> No, I do all <i>gratis</i>, and am most commonly
+a loser; only a buck sometimes from this good
+lord, or that good lady in the country: and I eat
+it not alone, I must have company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Pray, what company do you invite?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Peace, peace, I am coming to you: Why,
+you must know I am tender-natured; and if any
+unhappy difference have arisen betwixt a mistress
+and her gallant, then I strike in, to do good offices
+betwixt them; and, at my own proper charges,
+conclude the quarrel with a reconciling supper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I find the ladies of pleasure are beholden
+to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, I love the poor little devils.
+I am indeed a father to them, and so they call me:
+I give them my counsel, and assist them with my
+purse. I cannot see a pretty sinner hurried to prison
+by the land-pirates, but nature works, and I
+must bail her; or want a supper, but I have a couple
+of crammed chickens, a cream tart, and a bottle
+of wine to offer her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sure you expect some kindness in return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Faith, not much: Nature in me is at low
+water-mark; my body's a jade, and tires under me;
+yet I love to smuggle still in a corner; pat them
+down, and pur over them; but, after that, I can do
+them little harm.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then I'm acquainted with your business:
+You would be a kind of deputy-fumbler under me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> You have me right. Be you the lion, to
+devour the prey; I am your jackall, to provide it
+for you: There will be a bone for me to pick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Your humility becomes your age. For my
+part, I am vigorous, and throw at all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">024</span><a id="page_024" name="page_024"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> As right as if I had begot thee! Wilt thou
+give me leave to call thee son?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> With all my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Ha, mad son!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mad daddy!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Your man told me, you were just returned
+from travel: What parts have you last visited?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I came from France.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Then, perhaps, you may have known an
+ungracious boy of mine there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Like enough: Pray, what's his name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> George Aldo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I must confess I do know the gentleman;
+satisfy yourself, he's in health, and upon his return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> That's some comfort: But, I hear, a very
+rogue, a lewd young fellow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The worst I know of him is, that he loves
+a wench; and that good quality he has not stolen.
+[<span class="sdm">Music at the Balcony over head: Mrs <span class="cnm">Tricksy</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Judith</span> appear.</span>]&mdash;Hark! There's music above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> 'Tis at my daughter Tricksy's lodging; the
+kept mistress I told you of, the lass of mettle. But
+for all she carries it so high, I know her pedigree;
+her mother's a sempstress in Dog-and-Bitch yard, and
+was, in her youth, as right as she is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then she's a two-piled punk, a punk of
+two descents.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> And her father, the famous cobler, who
+taught Walsingham to the black-birds. How stand
+thy affections to her, thou lusty rogue?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> All on fire: A most urging creature!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Peace! they are beginning.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="pgnm">025</span><a id="page_025" name="page_025"></a>
+<h4>A SONG.</h4>
+
+<h5>I.</h5>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>'Gainst keepers we petition,</p>
+<p class="i1">Who would inclose the common:</p>
+<p>'Tis enough to raise sedition</p>
+<p class="i1">In the free-born subject, woman.</p>
+<p>Because for his gold,</p>
+<p class="i1">I my body have sold,</p>
+<p>He thinks I'm a slave for my life;</p>
+<p class="i1">He rants, domineers,</p>
+<p>He swaggers and swears,</p>
+<p class="i1">And would keep me as bare as his wife.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>'Gainst keepers we petition, &amp;c.</p>
+<p class="i1">'Tis honest and fair,</p>
+<p>That a feast I prepare;</p>
+<p class="i1">But when his dull appetite's o'er,</p>
+<p>I'll treat with the rest</p>
+<p class="i1">Some welcomer guest,</p>
+<p>For the reckoning was paid me before.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A song against keepers! this makes well
+for us lusty lovers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Above.</span>] Father, father Aldo!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Daughter Tricksy, are you there, child?
+your friends at Barnet are all well, and your dear
+master Limberham, that noble Hephestion, is returning
+with them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> And you are come upon the spur before, to
+acquaint me with the news.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well, thou art the happiest rogue in a
+kind keeper! He drank thy health five times, <i>supernaculum</i>,<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-2">[2]</a>
+to my son Brain-sick; and dipt my daughter
+<span class="pgnm">026</span><a id="page_026" name="page_026"></a>
+Pleasance's little finger, to make it go down
+more glibly:<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-3">[3]</a> And, before George, I grew tory
+rory, as they say, and strained a brimmer through
+the lily-white smock, i'faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You will never leave these fumbling tricks,
+father, till you are taken up on suspicion of manhood,
+and have a bastard laid at your door: I am
+sure you would own it, for your credit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, I should not see it starve,
+for the mother's sake: For, if she were a punk, she
+was good-natured, I warrant her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well, if ever son was blest with a
+hopeful father, I am.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Who is that gentleman with you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A young <i>monsieur</i> returned from travel; a
+lusty young rogue; a true-milled whoremaster, with
+the right stamp. He is a fellow-lodger, incorporate
+in our society: For whose sake he came hither, let
+him tell you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">027</span><a id="page_027" name="page_027"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Are you gloating already? then
+there's hopes, i'faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You seem to know him, father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Know him! from his cradle&mdash;What's your
+name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Woodall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ald.</span> Woodall of Woodall; I knew his father;
+we were contemporaries, and fellow-wenchers in
+our youth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] My honest father stumbles into
+truth, in spite of lying.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I was just coming down to the garden-house,
+before you came.<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Tricksy</span> descends.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I am sorry I cannot stay to present my son,
+Woodall, to you; but I have set you together, that's
+enough for me.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Alone.</span>] 'Twas my study to avoid my father,
+and I have run full into his mouth: and yet I
+have a strong hank upon him too; for I am privy
+to as many of his virtues, as he is of mine. After
+all, if I had an ounce of discretion left, I should
+pursue this business no farther: but two fine women
+in a house! well, it is resolved, come what will on
+it, thou art answerable for all my sins, old Aldo&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy,</span> with a box of essences.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Here she comes, this heir-apparent of a sempstress,
+and a cobler! and yet, as she's adorned, she looks
+like any princess of the blood.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Salutes her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] What a difference there is between
+this gentleman, and my feeble keeper, Mr Limberham!
+he's to my wish, if he would but make the
+least advances to me.&mdash;Father Aldo tells me, sir, you
+are a traveller: What adventures have you had in
+foreign countries?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I have no adventures of my own, can deserve
+your curiosity; but, now I think on it, I can
+<span class="pgnm">028</span><a id="page_028" name="page_028"></a>
+tell you one that happened to a French cavalier, a
+friend of mine, at Tripoli.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No wars, I beseech you: I am so weary of
+father Aldo's Loraine and Crequi.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then this is as you would desire it, a
+love-adventure. This French gentleman was made a slave
+to the Dey of Tripoli; by his good qualities, gained
+his master's favour; and after, by corrupting an
+eunuch, was brought into the seraglio privately,
+to see the Dey's mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> This is somewhat; proceed, sweet sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> He was so much amazed, when he first beheld
+her leaning over a balcony, that he scarcely
+dared to lift his eyes, or speak to her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I find him now.&mdash;But what followed
+of this dumb interview?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The nymph was gracious, and came down
+to him; but with so goddess-like a presence, that
+the poor gentleman was thunder-struck again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> That savoured little of the monsieur's gallantry,
+especially when the lady gave him encouragement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood</span> The gentleman was not so dull, but he
+understood the favour, and was presuming enough
+to try if she were mortal. He advanced with more
+assurance, and took her fair hands: was he not too
+bold, madam? and would not you have drawn back
+yours, had you been in the sultana's place?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> If the sultana liked him well enough to
+come down into the garden to him, I suppose she
+came not thither to gather nosegays.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Give me leave, madam, to thank you, in
+my friend's behalf, for your favourable judgment.
+[<span class="sdm">Kisses her hand.</span>] He kissed her hand with an exceeding
+transport; and finding that she prest his at
+the same instant, he proceeded with a greater eagerness
+to her lips&mdash;but, madam, the story would be
+<span class="pgnm">029</span><a id="page_029" name="page_029"></a>
+without life, unless you give me leave to act the
+circumstances.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Kisses her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Well, I'll swear you are the most natural
+historian!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But now, madam, my heart beats with joy,
+when I come to tell you the sweetest part of his
+adventure: opportunity was favourable, and love
+was on his side; he told her, the chamber was more
+private, and a fitter scene for pleasure. Then, looking
+on her eyes, he found them languishing; he saw
+her cheeks blushing, and heard her voice faultering
+in a half-denial: he seized her hand with an amorous
+ecstacy, and&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Takes her hand.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your
+friend was unconscionable, if he desired more favours
+at the first interview.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> He both desired and obtained them, madam,
+and so will&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">A noise within.</span>] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham's
+voice: he's returned from Barnet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I'll avoid him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> That's impossible; he'll meet you. Let me
+think a moment:&mdash;Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot
+discover you: have any of the servants seen you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> None.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant
+of essences: here's a little box of them just
+ready.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But I speak no Italian; only a few broken
+scraps, which I picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin
+at Paris.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You must venture that: When we are rid
+of Limberham, 'tis but slipping into your chamber,
+throwing off your black perriwig, and riding suit,
+and you come out an Englishman. No more; he's
+here.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">030</span><a id="page_030" name="page_030"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay
+you over the lips, to take hansel of them, for my
+welcome.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Putting him back.</span>] Foh! how you smell
+of sweat, dear!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I have put myself into this same unsavoury
+heat, out of my violent affection to see thee, Pug.
+Before George, as father Aldo says, I could not live
+without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow, though
+I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all
+night; and then I was so troublesome to father Aldo,
+(for you must know he and I were lodged together)
+that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him,
+and so hug him in my sleep!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I dare be sworn 'twas in your sleep; for,
+when you are waking, you are the most honest,
+quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by woman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am
+come home on purpose to pay old debts. But who
+is that same fellow there? What makes he in our
+territories?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You oaf you, do you not perceive it is
+the Italian seignior, who is come to sell me essences?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is
+he the lampoon was made on.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,<br /><span style="font-style: normal;">Ho, ho.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Pr'ythee leave thy foppery, that we may
+have done with him. He asks an unreasonable
+price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior, take
+your trinkets, and be gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking the box.</span>] <i>A dio, seigniora.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing
+is come into my head of the sudden.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> What would you have, you eternal sot?
+the man's in haste.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">031</span><a id="page_031" name="page_031"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But why should you be in your frumps,
+Pug, when I design only to oblige you? I must
+present you with this box of essences; nothing can
+be too dear for thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Pray let him go, he understands no English.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Then how could you drive a bargain with
+him, Pug?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Why, by signs, you coxcomb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Very good! then I'll first pull him by the
+sleeve, that's a sign to stay. Look you, Mr Seignior,
+I would make a present of your essences to
+this lady; for I find I cannot speak too plain to
+you, because you understand no English. Be not
+you refractory now, but take ready money: that's
+a rule.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Seignioro, non intendo Inglese.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> This is a very dull fellow! he says, he
+does not intend English. How much shall I offer
+him, Pug?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> If you will present me, I have bidden him
+ten guineas.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> And, before George, you bid him fair.
+Look you, Mr Seignior, I will give you all these.
+1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Do you see, Seignior?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Seignior, si.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Lo' you there, Pug, he does see. Here,
+will you take me at my word?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shrugging up</span>] <i>Troppo poco, troppo poco.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> <i>A poco, a poco!</i> why a pox on you too,
+an' you go to that. Stay, now I think on't, I can
+tickle him up with French; he'll understand that
+sure. <i>Monsieur, voulez vous prendre ces dix guinees,
+pour ces essences? mon foy c'est assez.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Chi vala, amici: Ho di casa! taratapa, taratapa,
+eus, matou, meau!</i>&mdash;[<span class="sdm">To her.</span>] I am at the
+end of my Italian; what will become of me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">032</span><a id="page_032" name="page_032"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">To him.</span>] Speak any thing, and make it
+pass for Italian; but be sure you take his money.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Seignior, io non canno takare ten guinneo
+possibilmentè; 'tis to my losso.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That is, Pug, he cannot possibly take ten
+guineas, 'tis to his loss: Now I understand him;
+this is almost English.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> English! away, you fop: 'tis a kind of
+<i>lingua Franca</i>, as I have heard the merchants call
+it; a certain compound language, made up of all
+tongues, that passes through the Levant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> This <i>lingua</i>, what you call it, is the most
+rarest language! I understand it as well as if it were
+English; you shall see me answer him: <i>Seignioro,
+stay a littlo, and consider wello, ten guinnio is monyo,
+a very considerablo summo.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Come, you shall make it twelve, and he
+shall take it for my sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Then, <i>Seignioro,</i> for <i>Pugsakio, addo two
+moro: je vous donne bon advise: prenez vitement:
+prenez me &agrave; mon mot.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Io losero multo; ma pergagnare il vestro
+costumo, datemi hansello.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> There is both <i>hansello</i> and <i>guinnio; tako,
+tako,</i> and so good-morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Good-morrow, seignior; I like your spirits
+very well; pray let me have all your essence you
+can spare.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Come, <i>Puggio,</i> and let us retire in <i>secreto</i>,
+like lovers, into our <i>chambro</i>; for I grow <i>impatiento
+&mdash;bon matin, monsieur, bon matin et bon jour.</i><br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> and <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Well, get thee gone, 'squire Limberhamo,
+for the easiest fool I ever knew, next my naunt of
+fairies in the Alchemist<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-4">[4]</a>. I have escaped, thanks
+<span class="pgnm">033</span><a id="page_033" name="page_033"></a>
+to my mistress's <i>lingua Fran&ccedil;a</i>: I'll steal to my
+chamber, shift my perriwig and clothes; and then,
+with the help of resty Gervase, concert the business
+of the next campaign. My father sticks in my
+stomach still; but I am resolved to be Woodall with
+him, and Aldo with the women.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> and <span class="cnm">Gervase.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Hitherto, sweet Gervase, we have carried
+matters swimmingly. I have danced in a net before
+my father, almost check-mated the keeper, retired
+to my chamber undiscovered, shifted my habit,
+and am come out an absolute monsieur, to allure
+the ladies. How sits my <i>chedreux</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> O very finely! with the locks combed
+down, like a mermaid's on a sign-post. Well, you
+think now your father may live in the same house
+with you till doomsday, and never find you; or,
+when he has found you, he will be kind enough not
+to consider what a property you have made of him.
+My employment is at an end; you have got a better
+pimp, thanks to your filial reverence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Pr'ythee, what should a man do with such
+a father, but use him thus? besides, he does journey-work
+under me; 'tis his humour to fumble, and
+my duty to provide for his old age.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Take my advice yet; down o' your marrow
+bones, and ask forgiveness; espouse the wife
+he has provided for you; lie by the side of a wholesome
+woman, and procreate your own progeny in
+the fear of heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I have no vocation to it, Gervase: A man
+of sense is not made for marriage; 'tis a game,
+<span class="pgnm">034</span><a id="page_034" name="page_034"></a>
+which none but dull plodding fellows can play at
+well; and 'tis as natural to them, as crimp is to a
+Dutchman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Think on't, however, sir; debauchery is
+upon its last legs in England: Witty men began the
+fashion, and now the fops are got into it, 'tis time
+to leave it.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Son Woodall, thou vigorous young rogue,
+I congratulate thy good fortune; thy man has told
+me the adventure of the Italian merchant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Well, they are now retired together, like
+Rinaldo and Armida, to private dalliance; but
+we shall find a time to separate their loves, and
+strike in betwixt them, daddy. But I hear there's
+another lady in the house, my landlady's fair daughter;
+how came you to leave her out of your catalogue?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> She's pretty, I confess, but most damnably
+honest; have a care of her, I warn you, for she's
+prying and malicious.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A twang of the mother; but I love to
+graff on such a crab-tree; she may bear good fruit
+another year.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> No, no, avoid her; I warrant thee, young
+Alexander, I will provide thee more worlds to conquer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] My old master would fain pass
+for Philip of Macedon, when he is little better than
+Sir Pandarus of Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> If you get this keeper out of doors, father,
+and give me but an opportunity&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Trust my diligence; I will smoke him
+out, as they do bees, but I will make him leave his
+honey-comb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] If I had a thousand sons, none of
+<span class="pgnm">035</span><a id="page_035" name="page_035"></a>
+the race of the Gervases should ever be educated by
+thee, thou vile old Satan!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Away, boy! Fix thy arms, and whet, like
+the lusty German boys, before a charge: He shall
+bolt immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> O, fear not the vigorous five-and-twenty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Hold, a word first: Thou saidst my son
+was shortly to come over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> So he told me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Thou art my bosom friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Of an hour's acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Be sure thou dost not discover my frailties
+to the young scoundrel: 'Twere enough to make
+the boy my master. I must keep up the dignity
+of old age with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Keep but your own counsel, father; for
+whatever he knows, must come from you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> The truth on't is, I sent for him over;
+partly to have married him, and partly because his
+villainous bills came so thick upon me, that I grew
+weary of the charge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> He spared for nothing; he laid it on, sir,
+as I have heard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Peace, you lying rogue!&mdash;Believe me, sir,
+bating his necessary expences of women, which I
+know you would not have him want, in all things
+else, he was the best manager of your allowance;
+and, though I say it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] That should not say it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The most hopeful young gentleman in
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Report speaks otherwise; and, before
+George, I shall read him a wormwood lecture,
+when I see him. But, hark, I hear the door unlock;
+the lovers are coming out: I'll stay here, to
+wheedle him abroad; but you must vanish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">036</span><a id="page_036" name="page_036"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Like night and the moon, in the Maid's
+Tragedy: I into mist; you into day<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-5">[5]</a>.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Wood.</span> and <span class="cnm">Ger.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE changes to <span class="cnm">Limberham's</span> apartment.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> and <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, but dear sweet honey Pug, forgive
+me but this once: It may be any man's case, when
+his desires are too vehement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Let me alone; I care not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But then thou wilt not love me, Pug.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> How now, son Limberham? There's no
+quarrel towards, I hope.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You had best tell now, and make yourself
+ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> She's in passion: Pray do you moderate
+this matter, father Aldo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Father Aldo! I wonder you are not ashamed
+to call him so; you may be his father, if the
+truth were known.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, I smell a rat, son Limberham.
+I doubt, I doubt, here has been some great
+omission in love affairs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I think all the stars in heaven have conspired
+my ruin. I'll look in my almanack.&mdash;As I
+hope for mercy, 'tis cross day now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Hang your pitiful excuses. 'Tis well known
+what offers I have had, and what fortunes I might
+have made with others, like a fool as I was, to throw
+<span class="pgnm">037</span><a id="page_037" name="page_037"></a>
+away my youth and beauty upon you. I could
+have had a young handsome lord, that offered me
+my coach and six; besides many a good knight and
+gentleman, that would have parted with their own
+ladies, and have settled half they had upon me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Ay, you said so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I said so, sir! Who am I? Is not my word
+as good as yours?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> As mine gentlewoman? though I say it,
+my word will go for thousands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> The more shame for you, that you have
+done no more for me: But I am resolved I'll not
+lose my time with you; I'll part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Do, who cares? Go to Dog-and-Bitch yard,
+and help your mother to make footmen's shirts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I defy you, slanderer; I defy you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Nay, dear daughter!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I defy her too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Nay, good son!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Let me alone: I'll have him cudgelled by
+my footman.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Bless us! what's here to do? My neighbours
+will think I keep a nest of unclean birds here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You had best peach now, and make her
+house be thought a bawdy-house!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, no: While you are in it, you will secure
+it from that scandal.&mdash;Hark hither, Mrs Saintly.
+[<span class="sdm">Whispers.</span>]</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Who would have imagined you had been
+such a kind of man, Mr Limberham! O heaven, O
+heaven!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> So, now you have spit your venom, and
+the storm's over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">038</span><a id="page_038" name="page_038"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Crying.</span>] That I should ever live to see
+this day!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> To show I can live honest, in spite of all
+mankind, I'll go into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I
+am sure she will come back from France, before she
+gets half way over to Calais.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Nay, but son Limberham, this must not
+be. A word in private;&mdash;you will never get such
+another woman, for love nor money. Do but look
+upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a
+whore of Babylon, as she is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Would I were worthy to be a young man,
+for her sake! She should eat pearls, if she would have
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> She can digest them, and gold too. Let
+me tell you, father Aldo, she has the stomach of an
+ostrich.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Daughter Tricksy, a word with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I'll hear nothing: I am for a nunnery.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I never saw a woman, before you, but first
+or last she would be brought to reason. Hark you,
+child, you will scarcely find so kind a keeper. What
+if he has some impediment one way? Every body
+is not a Hercules. You shall have my son Woodall,
+to supply his wants; but, as long as he maintains
+you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>LIMBERHAM SINGING.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>I my own jailor was; my only foe,</p>
+<p class="i1">Who did my liberty forego;</p>
+<p>I was a prisoner, because I would be so.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Why, look you now, son Limberham, is
+this a song to be sung at such a time, when I am
+<span class="pgnm">039</span><a id="page_039" name="page_039"></a>
+labouring your reconcilement? Come, daughter Tricksy,
+you must be ruled; I'll be the peace-maker.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, I'm just going.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> The devil take me, if I call you back.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> And his dam take me, if I return, except
+you do.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio!
+Turn to him, daughter: Speak to her, son: Why
+should you be so refractory both, to bring my gray
+hairs with sorrow to the grave?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I'll not be forsworn, I swore first;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Thou art a forsworn man, however; for
+thou sworest to love me eternally.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, I was such a fool, to swear so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> And will you have that dreadful oath lie
+gnawing on your conscience?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Let him be damned; and so farewell for
+ever.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Going.</span>]</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Pug!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Did you call, Mr Limberham?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> It may be, ay; it may be, no.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Well, I am going to the nunnery; but, to
+shew I am in charity, I'll pray for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Pray for him! fy, daughter, fy; is that an
+answer for a Christian?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> What did Pug say? will she pray for me?
+Well, to shew I am in charity, she shall not pray
+for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever think
+thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted
+with me?<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Cries.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Look you, daughter, see how nature works
+in him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I'll settle two hundred a-year upon thee,
+because thou said'st thou would'st pray for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, son Limberham, you will
+spoil all, if you underbid so.  Come, down with
+your dust, man: What, shew a base mind, when a
+fair lady's in question!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">040</span><a id="page_040" name="page_040"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Well, if I must give three hundred&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on
+a better place.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Come, there is no better place than little
+London. You shall not part for a trifle. What,
+son Limberham! four hundred a year is a square
+sum, and you shall give it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> It is a round sum indeed; I wish a three-cornered
+sum would have served her turn.&mdash;Why
+should you be so pervicacious now, Pug? Pray take
+three hundred. Nay, rather than part, Pug, it shall
+be so.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">She frowns.</span>]</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> It shall be so, it shall be so: Come, now
+buss, and seal the bargain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kissing him.</span>] You see what a good natured
+fool I am, Mr Limberham, to come back into
+a wicked world, for love of you.&mdash;You will see the
+writings drawn, father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Ay; and pay the lawyer too. Why, this
+is as it should be! I'll be at the charge of the reconciling
+supper.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">To her aside.</span>] Daughter, my son
+Woodall is waiting for you.&mdash;Come away, son Limberham
+to the temple.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> With all my heart, while she is in a good
+humour: It would cost me another hundred, if I
+should stay till Pug were in wrath again. Adieu,
+sweet Pug.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Exeunt <span class="cnm">Aldo,</span> and <span class="cnm">Limb.</span></span>]</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> That he should be so silly to imagine I
+would go into a nunnery! it is likely; I have much
+nun's flesh about me. But here comes my gentleman.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall,</span> not seeing her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Now the wife's returned, and the daughter
+too, and I have seen them both, and am more
+distracted than before: I would enjoy all, and have
+not yet determined with which I should begin. It
+is but a kind of clergy-covetousness in me, to desire
+so many; if I stand gaping after pluralities, one of
+<span class="pgnm">041</span><a id="page_041" name="page_041"></a>
+them is in danger to be made a <i>sine cure</i>&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Sees her.</span>]
+O, fortune has determined for me. It is just here,
+as it is in the world; the mistress will be served
+before the wife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> How now, sir, are you rehearsing your
+<i>lingua Franca</i> by yourself, that you walk so pensively?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> No faith, madam, I was thinking of the
+fair lady, who, at parting, bespoke so cunningly of
+me all my essences.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But there are other beauties in the house;
+and I should be impatient of a rival: for I am apt
+to be partial to myself, and think I deserve to be
+preferred before them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Your beauty will allow of no competition;
+and I am sure my love could make none.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Yes, you have seen Mrs Brainsick; she's a
+beauty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You mean, I suppose, the peaking creature,
+the married woman, with a sideling look, as
+if one cheek carried more bias than the other?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Yes, and with a high nose, as visible as a
+land-mark.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> With one cheek blue, the other red; just
+like the covering of Lambeth Palace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Nay, but her legs, if you could see them&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> She was so foolish to wear short petticoats,
+and show them. They are pillars, gross enough to
+support a larger building; of the Tuscan order, by
+my troth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> And her little head, upon that long neck,
+shows like a traitor's skull upon a pole. Then, for
+her wit&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> She can have none: There's not room
+enough for a thought to play in.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I think indeed I may safely trust you with
+<span class="pgnm">042</span><a id="page_042" name="page_042"></a>
+such charms; and you have pleased me with your
+description of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I wish you would give me leave to please
+you better. But you transact as gravely with me as
+a Spaniard; and are losing love, as he does Flanders:
+you consider and demur, when the monarch
+is up in arms, and at your gates<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-6">[6]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But to yield upon the first summons, ere
+you have laid a formal siege&mdash;To-morrow may
+prove a luckier day to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Believe me, madam, lovers are not to trust
+to-morrow. Love may die upon our hands, or opportunity
+be wanting; 'tis best securing the present
+hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, love's like fruit; it must have time to
+ripen on the tree; if it be green gathered, 'twill but
+wither afterwards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Rather 'tis like gun powder; that which
+fires quickest, is commonly the strongest.&mdash;By this
+burning kiss&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You lovers are such froward children, ever
+crying for the breast; and, when you have once
+had it, fall fast asleep in the nurse's arms. And
+with what face should I look upon my keeper after
+it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> With the same face that all mistresses look
+upon theirs. Come, come.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But my reputation!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, that's no argument, if I should be so
+base to tell; for women get good fortunes now-a-days,
+by losing their credit, as a cunning citizen
+does by breaking.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">043</span><a id="page_043" name="page_043"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But, I'm so shame-faced! Well, I'll go in,
+and hide my blushes.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I'll not be long after you; for I think I
+have hidden my blushes where I shall never find
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> As I live, Mr Limberham and father Aldo
+are just returned; I saw them entering. My settlement
+will miscarry, if you are found here: What
+shall we do?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Go you into your bed-chamber, and leave
+me to my fortune.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> That you should be so dull! their suspicion
+will be as strong still: for what should make
+you here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The curse on't is too, I bid my man tell
+the family I was gone abroad; so that, if I am seen,
+you are infallibly discovered.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Noise.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Hark, I hear them! Here's a chest which
+I borrowed of Mrs Pleasance; get quickly into it,
+and I will lock you up: there's nothing in't but
+clothes of Limberham's, and a box of writings.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I shall be smothered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Make haste, for heaven's sake; they'll
+quickly be gone, and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> That <i>then</i> will make a man venture any
+thing.
+<span class="sdr">[He goes in, and she locks the chest.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> and <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Dost thou not wonder to see me come
+again so quickly, Pug?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, I am prepared for any foolish freak of
+yours: I knew you would have a qualm, when you
+came to settlement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Your settlement depends most absolutely
+on that chest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">044</span><a id="page_044" name="page_044"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Father Aldo, a word with you, for heaven's
+sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> No, no, I'll not whisper. Do not stand in
+your own light, but produce the keys, daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Be not musty, my pretty St Peter, but
+produce the keys. I must have the writings out,
+that concern thy settlement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Now I see you are so reasonable, I'll show
+you I dare trust your honesty; the settlement shall
+be deferred till another day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> No deferring in these cases, daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But I have lost the keys.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That's a jest! let me feel in thy pocket,
+for I must oblige thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You shall feel no where: I have felt already
+and am sure they are lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> But feel again, the lawyer stays.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Well, to satisfy you, I will feel.&mdash;They are
+not here&mdash;nor here neither.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[She pulls out her handkerchief, and the keys drop
+after it: <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> takes them up.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Look you now, Pug! who's in the right?
+Well, thou art born to be a lucky Pug, in spite of
+thyself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] O, I am ruined!&mdash;One word, I
+beseech you, father Aldo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Not a syllable. What the devil's in you,
+daughter? Open, son, open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aloud.</span>] It shall not be opened; I will
+have my will, though I lose my settlement. Would
+I were within the chest! I would hold it down, to
+spite you. I say again, would I were within the
+chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open
+it.&mdash;The best on't is, there's good inkle on the
+top of the inside, if he have the wit to lay hold
+on't.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">045</span><a id="page_045" name="page_045"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">Going to open it.</span>] Before George, I think
+you have the devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open
+it, for the guts of me. <i>Hictius doctius!</i> what's here
+to do? I believe, in my conscience, Pug can conjure:
+Marry, God bless us all good Christians!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Push hard, son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I cannot push; I was never good at pushing.
+When I push, I think the devil pushes too.
+Well, I must let it alone, for I am a fumbler. Here,
+take the keys, Pug.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Then all's safe again.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Judith</span> and <span class="cnm">Gervase.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the
+chest you borrowed of her. She has present occasion
+for it; and has desired us to carry it away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Well, that's but reason: If she must have
+it, she must have it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick</span> Tell her, it shall be returned some time
+to-day; at present we must crave her pardon, because
+we have some writings in it, which must first
+be taken out, when we can open it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, that's but reason too: Then she must
+not have it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Let me come to't; I'll break it open, and
+you may take out your writings.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That's true: 'Tis but reasonable it should
+be broken open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Then I may be bound to make good the
+loss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> 'Tis unreasonable it should be broken open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, Gervase and I will carry it
+away; and a smith shall be sent for to my daughter
+Pleasance's chamber, to open it without damage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Why, who says against it? Let it be carried;
+I'm all for reason.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Hold; I say it shall not stir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">046</span><a id="page_046" name="page_046"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> What? every one must have their own; <i>Fiat
+justitia, aut ruat mundus.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Ay, <i>fiat justitia,</i> Pug: She must have her
+own; for <i>justitia</i> is Latin for justice.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Aldo</span> and <span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> lift at it.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I think the devil's in't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> There's somewhat bounces, like him, in't.
+'Tis plaguy heavy; but we'll take t'other heave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking hold of the chest.</span>] Then you shall
+carry me too. Help, murder, murder!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[A confused gabbling among them.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, I think all hell's broke loose among
+you. What, a schism in my family! Does this become
+the purity of my house? What will the ungodly
+say?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> No matter for the ungodly; this is all
+among ourselves: For, look you, the business is
+this. Mrs Pleasance has sent for this same business
+here, which she lent to Pug; now Pug has
+some private businesses within this business, which
+she would take out first, and the business will not
+be opened: and this makes all the business.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, I am raised up for a judge amongst
+you; and I say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I'll have no judge: it shall not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Why son, why daughter, why Mrs Saintly;
+are you all mad? Hear me, I am sober, I am discreet;
+let a smith be sent for hither, let him break
+open the chest; let the things contained be taken
+out, and the thing containing be restored.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Now hear me too, for I am sober and discreet;
+father Aldo is an oracle: It shall be so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Well, to show I am reasonable, I am content.
+Mr Gervase and I will fetch an instrument
+from the next smith; in the mean time, let the
+<span class="pgnm">047</span><a id="page_047" name="page_047"></a>
+chest remain where it now stands, and let every
+one depart the chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That no violence be offered to the person
+of the chest, in Pug's absence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Then this matter is composed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now I shall have leisure to instruct
+his man, and set him free, without discovery.
+Come, Mr Gervase.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> There is a certain motion put into my
+mind, and it is of good. I have keys here, which a
+precious brother, a devout blacksmith, made me, and
+which will open any lock of the same bore. Verily,
+it can be no sin to unlock this chest therewith, and
+take from thence the spoils of the ungodly. I will
+satisfy my conscience, by giving part thereof to the
+hungry and the needy; some to our pastor, that he
+may prove it lawful; and some I will sanctify to
+my own use.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[She unlocks the chest, and <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> starts up.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Let me embrace you, my dear deliverer!
+Bless us! is it you, Mrs Saintly?
+<span class="sdr">[She shrieks.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shrieking.</span>] Heaven of his mercy! Stop
+thief, stop thief!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What will become of me now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> According to thy wickedness, shall it be
+done unto thee. Have I discovered thy backslidings,
+thou unfaithful man! thy treachery to me
+shall be rewarded, verily; for I will testify against
+thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, since you are so revengeful, you
+shall suffer your part of the disgrace; if you testify
+against me for adultery, I shall testify against you
+for theft: There's an eighth for your seventh.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Noise.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, they are approaching: Return to
+my embraces, and it shall be forgiven thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Thank you, for your own sake. Hark!
+<span class="pgnm">048</span><a id="page_048" name="page_048"></a>
+they are coming! cry thief again, and help to save
+all yet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Stop thief, stop thief!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Thank you for your own sake; but I fear
+'tis too late.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy</span> and <span class="cnm">Limberham.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Entering.</span>] The chest open, and Woodall
+discovered! I am ruined.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Why all this shrieking, Mrs Saintly?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Rushing him down.</span>] Stop thief, stop thief!
+cry you mercy, gentleman, if I have hurt you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">Rising.</span>] 'Tis a fine time to cry a man
+mercy, when you have beaten his wind out of his
+body.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> As I watched the chest, behold a vision
+rushed out of it, on the sudden; and I lifted up
+my voice, and shrieked.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> A vision, landlady! what, have we Gog
+and Magog in our chamber?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> A thief, I warrant you, who had gotten
+into the chest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Most certainly a thief; for, hearing my
+landlady cry out, I flew from my chamber to her
+help, and met him running down stairs, and then
+he turned back to the balcony, and leapt into the
+street.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I thought, indeed, that something held
+down the chest, when I would have opened it:&mdash;But
+my writings are there still, that's one comfort.&mdash;Oh
+seignioro, are you here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Do you speak to me, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> This is Mr Woodall, your new fellow-lodger.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Cry you mercy, sir; I durst have sworn
+you could have spoken <i>lingua Franca</i>&mdash;I thought,
+<span class="pgnm">049</span><a id="page_049" name="page_049"></a>
+in my conscience, Pug, this had been thy Italian
+<i>merchanto</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sir, I see you mistake me for some other:
+I should be happy to be better known to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Sir, I beg your pardon, with all my <i>hearto</i>.
+Before George, I was caught again there! But you
+are so very like a paltry fellow, who came to sell
+Pug essences this morning, that one would swear
+those eyes, and that nose and mouth, belonged to
+that rascal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You must pardon me, sir, if I do not
+much relish the close of your compliment.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Their eyes are nothing like:&mdash;you'll have a
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Not very like, I confess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Their nose and mouth are quite different.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> As Pug says, they are quite different, indeed;
+but I durst have sworn it had been he; and,
+therefore, once again, I demand your <i>pardono</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Come, let us go down; by this time Gervase
+has brought the smith, and then Mrs Pleasance
+may have her chest. Please you, sir, to bear
+us company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> At your service, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Pray lead the way, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> 'Tis against my will, sir; but I must leave
+you in possession.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III.&mdash;SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly</span> and <span class="cnm">Pleasance.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Never fear it, I'll be a spy upon his actions;
+he shall neither whisper nor gloat on either
+of them, but I'll ring him such a peal!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Above all things, have a care of him yourself;
+for surely there is witchcraft betwixt his lips:
+<span class="pgnm">050</span><a id="page_050" name="page_050"></a>
+He is a wolf within the sheepfold; and therefore I
+will be earnest, that you may not fall.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Why should my mother be so inquisitive
+about this lodger? I half suspect old Eve herself
+has a mind to be nibbling at the pippin. He makes
+love to one of them, I am confident; it may be to
+both; for, methinks, I should have done so, if I had
+been a man; but the damned petticoats have perverted
+me to honesty, and therefore I have a grudge
+to him for the privilege of his sex. He shuns me,
+too, and that vexes me; for, though I would deny
+him, I scorn he should not think me worth a civil
+question.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Woodall,</span> with <span class="cnm">Tricksy, Mrs Brainsick,
+Judith,</span> and Music.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Come, your works, your works;
+they shall have the approbation of Mrs Pleasance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No more apologies; give Judith the words,
+she sings at sight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> I'll try my skill.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>A SONG FROM THE ITALIAN.</h4>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>By a dismal cypress lying,</p>
+<p>Damon cried, all pale and dying,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Kind is death, that ends my pain,</p>
+<p>But cruel she I loved in vain.</p>
+<p>The mossy fountains</p>
+<p>Murmur my trouble,</p>
+<p>And hollow mountains</p>
+<p>My groans redouble:</p>
+<p>Every nymph mourns me,</p>
+<p>Thus while I languish;</p>
+<p>She only scorns me,</p>
+<p>Who caused my anguish.</p>
+<p>No love returning me, but all hope denying;</p>
+<p>By a dismal cypress lying,</p>
+<p>Like a swan, so sung he dying,&mdash;</p>
+<p><span class="pgnm">051</span><a id="page_051" name="page_051"></a>
+Kind is death, that ends my pain,</p>
+<p>But cruel she I loved in vain.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> By these languishing eyes, and those <i>simagres</i>
+of yours, we are given to understand, sir,
+you have a mistress in this company; come, make
+a free discovery which of them your poetry is to
+charm, and put the other out of pain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No doubt 'twas meant to Mrs Brainsick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> We wives are despicable creatures;
+we know it, madam, when a mistress is in presence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Why this ceremony betwixt you? 'Tis a
+likely proper fellow, and looks as he could people a
+new isle of Pines<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-7">[7]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> 'Twere a work of charity to convert
+a fair young schismatick, like you, if 'twere but to
+gain you to a better opinion of the government.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> If I am not mistaken in you, too, he has
+works of charity enough upon his hands already;
+but 'tis a willing soul, I'll warrant him, eager upon
+the quarry, and as sharp as a governor of Covent-Garden.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sure this is not the phrase of your family!
+I thought to have found a sanctified sister; but I
+suspect now, madam, that if your mother kept a
+pension in your father's time, there might be some
+gentleman-lodger in the house; for I humbly conceive
+you are of the half-strain at least.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> For all the rudeness of your language, I
+am resolved to know upon what voyage you are
+bound; your privateer of love, you Argier's man,
+that cruize up and down for prize in the Straitsmouth;
+<span class="pgnm">052</span><a id="page_052" name="page_052"></a>
+which of the vessels would you snap now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> We are both under safe convoy, madam;
+a lover and a husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Nay, for your part, you are notably
+guarded, I confess; but keepers have their rooks,
+as well as gamesters; but they only venture under
+them till they pick up a sum, and then push for
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] A plague of her suspicions; they'll
+ruin me on that side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> So; let but little minx go proud, and the
+dogs in Covent-Garden have her in the wind immediately;
+all pursue the scent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Not to a boarding-house, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> If they were wise, they would rather go
+to a brothel-house; for there most mistresses have
+left behind them their maiden-heads, of blessed memory:
+and those, which would not go off in that
+market, are carried about by bawds, and sold at
+doors, like stale flesh in baskets. Then, for your
+honesty, or justness, as you call it, to your keepers,
+your kept-mistress is originally a punk; and let
+the cat be changed into a lady never so formally,
+she still retains her natural property of mousing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs. Brain.</span> You are very sharp upon the mistresses;
+but I hope you'll spare the wives.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Yes, as much as your husbands do after
+the first month of marriage; but you requite their
+negligence in household-duties, by making them
+husbands of the first head, ere the year be over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] She has me there, too!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> And as for you, young gallant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Hold, I beseech you! a truce for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> In troth, I pity you; for you have undertaken
+a most difficult task,&mdash;to cozen two women,
+who are no babies in their art: if you bring it about,
+you perform as much as he that cheated the very
+lottery.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">053</span><a id="page_053" name="page_053"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Ladies, I am sorry this should happen to
+you for my sake: She is in a raging fit, you see;
+'tis best withdrawing, till the spirit of prophecy has
+left her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I'll take shelter in my chamber,&mdash;whither,
+I hope, he'll have the grace to follow me.
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> And now I think on't, I have some
+letters to dispatch.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Trick.</span> and <span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> severally.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Now, good John among the maids, how
+mean you to bestow your time? Away to your
+study, I advise you; invoke your muses, and make
+madrigals upon absence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I would go to China, or Japan, to be rid of
+that impetuous clack of yours. Farewell, thou legion
+of tongues in one woman!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Will you not stay, sir? it may be I have
+a little business with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Yes, the second part of the same tune!
+Strike by yourself, sweet larum; you're true bell-metal
+I warrant you.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> This spitefulness of mine will be my
+ruin: To rail them off, was well enough; but to talk
+him away, too! O tongue, tongue, thou wert given
+for a curse to all our sex!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Madam, your mother would speak with
+you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> I will not come; I'm mad, I think; I
+come immediately. Well, I'll go in, and vent my
+passion, by railing at them, and him too.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> You may enter in safety, sir; the enemy's
+marched off.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Woodall.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nothing, but the love I bear thy mistress,
+<span class="pgnm">054</span><a id="page_054" name="page_054"></a>
+could keep me in the house with such a fury. When
+will the bright nymph appear?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Immediately; I hear her coming.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> That I could find her coming, Mrs Judith!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Mrs Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">You have made me languish in expectation, madam.
+Was it nothing, do you think, to be so near a happiness,
+with violent desires, and to be delayed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Is it nothing, do you think, for a
+woman of honour, to overcome the ties of virtue
+and reputation; to do that for you, which I thought
+I should never have ventured for the sake of any
+man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But my comfort is, that love has overcome.
+Your honour is, in other words, but your good repute;
+and 'tis my part to take care of that: for the
+fountain of a woman's honour is in the lover, as that
+of the subject is in the king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> You had concluded well, if you had
+been my husband: you know where our subjection
+lies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But cannot I be yours without a priest?
+They were cunning people, doubtless, who began
+that trade; to have a double hank upon us, for two
+worlds: that no pleasure here, or hereafter, should
+be had, without a bribe to them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Well, I'm resolved, I'll read, against
+the next time I see you; for the truth is, I am not
+very well prepared with arguments for marriage;
+meanwhile, farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I stand corrected; you have reason indeed
+to go, if I can use my time no better: We'll withdraw
+if you please, and dispute the rest within.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Perhaps, I meant not so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood,</span> I understand your meaning at your eyes.
+You'll watch, Judith?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">055</span><a id="page_055" name="page_055"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Nay, if that were all, I expect not
+my husband till to-morrow. The truth is, he is so
+oddly humoured, that, if I were ill inclined, it would
+half justify a woman; he's such a kind of man!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Or, if he be not, well make him such a
+kind of man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> So fantastical, so musical, his talk all
+rapture, and half nonsense: like a clock out of order,
+set him a-going, and he strikes eternally. Besides,
+he thinks me such a fool, that I could half
+resolve to revenge myself, in justification of my wit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Come, come, no half resolutions among
+lovers; I'll hear no more of him, till I have revenged
+you fully. Go out and watch, Judith.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Yet, I could say, in my defence,
+that my friends married me to him against my will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then let us put your friends, too, into the
+quarrel: it shall go hard, but I'll give you a revenge
+for them.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Judith</span> again, hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">How now? what's the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Can'st thou not speak? hast thou
+seen a ghost?&mdash;As I live, she signs horns! that
+must be for my husband: he's returned.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Judith</span> looks ghastly, and signs horns.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> I would have told you so, if I could have
+spoken for fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Hark, a knocking! What shall we do?
+<span class="sdr">[<i>Knocking.</i></span><br />
+There's no dallying in this case: here you must not
+be found, that's certain; but Judith hath a chamber
+within mine; haste quickly thither; I'll secure
+the rest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Follow me, sir.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Woodall, Judith.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">056</span><a id="page_056" name="page_056"></a>
+Knocking again. She opens: Enter <span class="cnm">Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What's the matter, gentlewoman? Am I
+excluded from my own fortress; and by the way
+of barricado? Am I to dance attendance at the door,
+as if I were some base plebeian groom? I'll have
+you know, that, when my foot assaults, the lightning
+and the thunder are not so terrible as the
+strokes: brazen gates shall tremble, and bolts of
+adamant dismount from off their hinges, to admit
+me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Who would have thought, that 'nown
+dear would have come so soon? I was even lying
+down on my bed, and dreaming of him. Tum a' me,
+and buss, poor dear; piddee buss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I nauseate these foolish feats of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Nay, but why should he be so fretful
+now? and knows I dote on him? to leave a
+poor dear so long without him, and then come home
+in an angry humour! indeed I'll ky.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Pr'ythee, leave thy fulsome fondness; I
+have surfeited on conjugal embraces.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I thought so: some light huswife
+has bewitched him from me: I was a little fool, so
+I was, to leave a dear behind at Barnet, when I
+knew the women would run mad for him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I have a luscious air forming, like a Pallas,
+in my brain-pain: and now thou com'st across
+my fancy, to disturb the rich ideas, with the yellow
+jaundice of thy jealousy.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Noise within.</span><br />
+Hark, what noise is that within, about Judith's bed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I believe, dear, she's making it.&mdash;Would
+the fool would go!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Hark, again!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside</span>] I have a dismal apprehension
+in my head, that he's giving my maid a cast of his
+office, in my stead. O, how it stings me!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Woodall</span> sneezes.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">057</span><a id="page_057" name="page_057"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I'll enter, and find the reason of this tumult.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Holding him.</span>] Not for the world:
+there may be a thief there; and should I put 'nown
+dear in danger of his life?&mdash;What shall I do? betwixt
+the jealousy of my love, and fear of this fool,
+I am distracted: I must not venture them together,
+whatever comes on it. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Why Judith, I say!
+come forth, damsel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood</span>. [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] The danger's over; I may come
+out safely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Are you mad? you shall not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] So, now I'm ruined unavoidably.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Whoever thou art, I have pronounced thy
+doom; the dreadful Brainsick bares his brawny arm
+in tearing terror; kneeling queens in vain should
+beg thy being.&mdash;Sa, sa, there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Though I believe he dares
+not venture in, yet I must not put it to the trial.
+Why Judith, come out, come out, huswife.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Judith,</span> trembling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">What villain have you hid within?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> O Lord, madam, what shall I say?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> How should I know what you should
+say? Mr Brainsick has heard a man's voice within;
+if you know what he makes there, confess the truth;
+I am almost dead with fear, and he stands shaking.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Terror, I! 'tis indignation shakes me.
+With this sabre I'll slice him as small as atoms; he
+shall be doomed by the judge, and damned upon the
+gibbet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>] My master's so outrageous! sweet
+madam, do you intercede for me, and I'll tell you
+all in private.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Whispers.</span><br />
+<span class="pgnm">058</span><a id="page_058" name="page_058"></a>
+If I say it is a thief, he'll call up help; I know not
+what of the sudden to invent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Let me alone.&mdash;And is this all? Why
+would you not confess it before, Judith? when you
+know I am an indulgent mistress.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Laughs.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What has she confessed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> A venial love-trespass, dear: 'tis a
+sweetheart of hers; one that is to marry her; and
+she was unwilling I should know it, so she hid him
+in her chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> What's the matter trow? what, in martial
+posture, son Brainsick?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Pray, father Aldo, do you beg my pardon
+of my master. I have committed a fault; I have
+hidden a gentleman in my chamber, who is to marry
+me without his friends' consent, and therefore came
+in private to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> That thou should'st think to keep this secret!
+why, I know it as well as he that made thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Heaven be praised, for this
+knower of all things! Now will he lie three or four
+rapping volunteers, rather than be thought ignorant
+in any thing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Do you know his friends, father Aldo?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Know them! I think I do. His mother
+was an arch-deacon's daughter; as honest a woman
+as ever broke bread: she and I have been cater-cousins
+in our youth; we have tumbled together
+between a pair of sheets, i'faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> An honest woman, and yet you two have
+tumbled together! those are inconsistent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> No matter for that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> He blunders; I must help him. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]
+I warrant 'twas before marriage, that you were so
+great.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">059</span><a id="page_059" name="page_059"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, and so it was: for she had
+the prettiest black mole upon her left ancle, it does
+me good to think on't! His father was squire What-d'ye-call-him,
+of what-d'ye-call-em shire. What
+think you, little Judith? do I know him now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> I suppose you may be mistaken: my servant's
+father is a knight of Hampshire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I meant of Hampshire. But that I should
+forget he was a knight, when I got him knighted,
+at the king's coming in! Two fat bucks, I am sure
+he sent me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> And what's his name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Nay, for that, you must excuse me; I must
+not disclose little Judith's secrets.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> All this while the poor gentleman is
+left in pain: we must let him out in secret; for I
+believe the young fellow is so bashful, he would
+not willingly be seen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> The best way will be, for father Aldo to lend
+me the key of his door, which opens into my chamber;
+and so I can convey him out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Giving her a key.</span>] Do so, daughter. Not
+a word of my familiarity with his mother, to prevent
+bloodshed betwixt us: but I have her name
+down in my almanack, I warrant her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> What, kiss and tell, father Aldo? kiss and
+tell!<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I'll go and pass an hour with Mrs
+Tricksy.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What, the lusty lover Limberham!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall,</span> at another door.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> O here's a monsieur, new come over, and
+a fellow-lodger; I must endear you two to one another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Sir, 'tis my extreme ambition to be better
+<span class="pgnm">060</span><a id="page_060" name="page_060"></a>
+known to you; you come out of the country I
+adore. And how does the dear Battist<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-8">[8]</a>? I long for
+some of his new compositions in the last opera. <i>A
+propos!</i> I have had the most happy invention this
+morning, and a tune trouling in my head; I rise
+immediately in my night-gown and slippers, down
+I put the notes slap-dash, made words to them like
+lightning; and I warrant you have them at the
+circle in the evening.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> All were complete, sir, if S. Andre would
+make steps to them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Nay, thanks to my genius, that care's over:
+you shall see, you shall see. But first the air. [<i>Sings.</i>]
+Is it not very fine? Ha, messieurs!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> The close of it is the most ravishing I ever
+heard!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I dwell not on your commendations.
+What say you, sir? [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Wood.</span></span>] Is it not admirable?
+Do you enter into it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Most delicate cadence!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Gad, I think so, without vanity. Battist
+and I have but one soul. But the close, the close!
+[<span class="sdm">Sings it thrice over.</span>] I have words too upon the
+air; but I am naturally so bashful!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Will you oblige me, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> You might command me, sir; for I sing
+too <i>en cavalier:</i> but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But you would be entreated, and say, <i>Nolo,
+nolo, nolo,</i> three times, like any bishop, when your
+mouth waters at the diocese.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I have no voice; but since this gentleman
+commands me, let the words commend themselves.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Sings.</span><br />
+<span class="i1"><i>My Phillis is charming&mdash;</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But why, of all names, would you chuse a
+Phillis? There have been so many Phillises in songs,
+<span class="pgnm">061</span><a id="page_061" name="page_061"></a>
+I thought there had not been another left, for love
+or money.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> If a man should listen to a fop!<span class="sdr">[Sings.</span><br />
+<span class="i1"><i>My Phillis&mdash;</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, I am on t'other side: I think,
+as good no song, as no Phillis.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Yet again!&mdash;<i>My Phillis&mdash;</i><span class="sdr">[Sings.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Looking scornfully at him.</span>] <i>My Phillis&mdash;</i>
+<span class="sdr">[Sings.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You had as good call her your Succuba.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> <i>Morbleu!</i> will you not give me leave? I
+am full of Phillis. [<span class="sdm">Sings.</span>] <i>My Phillis&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty
+name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> <i>Diable!</i> Now I will not sing, to spite
+you. By the world, you are not worthy of it.
+Well, I have a gentleman's fortune; I have courage,
+and make no inconsiderable figure in the world:
+yet I would quit my pretensions to all these, rather
+than not be author of this sonnet, which your rudeness
+has irrevocably lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Some foolish French <i>quelque chose</i>, I warrant
+you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> <i>Quelque chose!</i> O ignorance, in supreme
+perfection! he means a <i>kek shose</i><a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-9">[9]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Why a <i>kek shoes</i> let it be then! and a <i>kek
+shoes</i> for your song.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I give to the devil such a judge. Well,
+were I to be born again, I would as soon be the
+elephant, as a wit; he's less a monster in this age
+of malice. I could burn my sonnet, out of rage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">062</span><a id="page_062" name="page_062"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You may use your pleasure with your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> His friends would not suffer him: Virgil
+was not permitted to burn his &AElig;neids.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Dear sir, I'll not die ungrateful for your approbation.
+[<span class="sdm">Aside to <span class="cnm">Wood.</span></span>] You see this fellow?
+he is an ass already; he has a handsome mistress,
+and you shall make an ox of him ere long.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Say no more, it shall be done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Hark you, Mr Woodall; this fool Brainsick
+grows insupportable; he's a public nuisance;
+but I scorn to set my wit against him: he has a
+pretty wife: I say no more; but if you do not graff
+him&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A word to the wise: I shall consider him,
+for your sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Pray do, sir: consider him much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Much is the word.&mdash;This feud makes well
+for me.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Wood.</span></span>] I'll give you the opportunity,
+and rid you of him.&mdash;Come away, little Limberham;
+you, and I, and father Aldo, will take a turn together
+in the square.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> We will follow you immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, we will come after you, bully Brainsick:
+but I hope you will not draw upon us there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> If you fear that, Bilbo shall be left behind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, nay, leave but your madrigal behind:
+draw not that upon us, and it is no matter for your
+sword.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Brain.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy,</span> and <span class="cnm">Mrs Brainsick,</span> with a note
+for each.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Both together! either of them, apart,
+had been my business: but I shall never play well
+at this three-hand game.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> O Pug, how have you been passing your
+time?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">063</span><a id="page_063" name="page_063"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I have been looking over the last present
+of orange gloves you made me; and methinks I
+do not like the scent.&mdash;O Lord, Mr Woodall, did
+you bring those you wear from Paris?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mine are Roman, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> The scent I love, of all the world. Pray
+let me see them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Nay, not both, good Mrs Tricksy;
+for I love that scent as well as you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Pulling them off, and giving each one.</span>] I
+shall find two dozen more of women's gloves among
+my trifles, if you please to accept them, ladies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Look to it; we shall expect them.&mdash;Now
+to put in my <i>billet-doux!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> So, now, I have the opportunity to
+thrust in my note.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Here, sir, take your glove again; the perfume's
+too strong for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Pray take the other to it; though
+I should have kept it for a pawn.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Mrs <span class="cnm">Brainsick's</span> note falls out, <span class="cnm">Limb.</span> takes it up.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> What have we here? [<span class="sdm">Reads.</span>] for Mr
+Woodall!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Both Women.</span> Hold, hold, Mr Limberham!
+<span class="sdr">[They snatch it.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, son Limberham, you shall
+read it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> By your favour, sir, but he must not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> He'll know my hand, and I am ruined!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Oh, my misfortune! Mr Woodall,
+will you suffer your secrets to be discovered!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> It belongs to one of them, that's certain.&mdash;Mr
+Limberham, I must desire you to restore this
+letter; it is from my mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> The devil's in him; will he confess?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> This paper was sent me from her this
+morning; and I was so fond of it, that I left it in
+<span class="pgnm">064</span><a id="page_064" name="page_064"></a>
+my glove: If one of the ladies had found it there,
+I should have been laughed at most unmercifully.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> That's well come off!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> My heart was at my mouth, for fear it had
+been Pug's. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;There 'tis again&mdash;Hold, hold;
+pray let me see it once more: a mistress, said you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Yes, a mistress, sir. I'll be his voucher,
+he has a mistress, and a fair one too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Do you know it, father Aldo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Know it! I know the match is as good as
+made already: old Woodall and I are all one. You,
+son, were sent for over on purpose; the articles for
+her jointure are all concluded, and a friend of mine
+drew them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, if father Aldo knows it, I am satisfied.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> But how came you by this letter, son Woodall?
+let me examine you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Came by it! (pox, he has <i>non-plus'd</i> me!)
+How do you say I came by it, father Aldo?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Why, there's it, now. This morning I met
+your mistress's father, Mr you know who&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mr who, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Nay, you shall excuse me for that; but we
+are intimate: his name begins with some vowel or
+consonant, no matter which: Well, her father gave
+me this very numerical letter, subscribed, for Mr.
+Woodall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Before George, and so it is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Carry me this letter, quoth he, to your son
+Woodall; 'tis from my daughter such a one, and
+then whispered me her name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Let me see; I'll read it once again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> What, are you not acquainted with the
+contents of it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> O, your true lover will read you over a
+letter from his mistress, a thousand times.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">065</span><a id="page_065" name="page_065"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Ay, two thousand, if he be in the humour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Two thousand! then it must be hers.
+[<span class="sdm">Reads to himself.</span>] "Away to your chamber immediately,
+and I'll give my fool the slip."&mdash;The
+fool! that may be either the keeper, or the husband;
+but commonly the keeper is the greater. Humh!
+without subscription! it must be Tricksy.&mdash;Father
+Aldo, pr'ythee rid me of this coxcomb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Come, son Limberham, we let our friend
+Brainsick walk too long alone: Shall we follow him?
+we must make haste; for I expect a whole bevy
+of whores, a chamber-full of temptation this afternoon:
+'tis my day of audience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Mr Woodall, we leave you here&mdash;you remember?
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Limb.</span> and <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Let me alone.&mdash;Ladies, your servant; I
+have a little private business with a friend of mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Meaning me.&mdash;Well, sir, your servant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Your servant, till we meet again.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>Mr</i> <span class="cnm">Woodall's</span> <i>Chamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Mrs <span class="cnm">Brainsick</span> alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> My note has taken, as I wished: he
+will be here immediately. If I could but resolve
+to lose no time, out of modesty; but it is his part
+to be violent, for both our credits. Never so little
+force and ruffling, and a poor weak woman is excused.
+[<span class="sdm">Noise.</span>] Hark, I hear him coming.&mdash;Ah
+me! the steps beat double: He comes not alone.
+If it should be my husband with him! where shall
+I hide myself? I see no other place, but under his
+bed: I must lie as silently as my fear will suffer
+me. Heaven send me safe again to my own chamber!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Creeps under the Bed.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">066</span><a id="page_066" name="page_066"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> and <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Well, fortune at the last is favourable, and
+now you are my prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> After a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I
+shall have my liberty upon easy terms. But pray
+let us parley a little first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Let it be upon the bed then. Please you
+to sit?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No matter where; I am never the nearer
+to your wicked purpose. But you men are commonly
+great comedians in love-matters; therefore
+you must swear, in the first place&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, no conditions: The fortress is reduced
+to extremity; and you must yield upon discretion,
+or I storm.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Never to love any other woman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I kiss the book upon it. [<span class="sdm">Kisses her. Mrs
+<span class="cnm">Brain.</span> pinches him from underneath the Bed.</span>] Oh,
+are you at your love-tricks already? If you pinch
+me thus, I shall bite your lip.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I did not pinch you: But you are apt, I
+see, to take any occasion of gathering up more
+close to me.&mdash;Next, you shall not so much as look
+on Mrs Brainsick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Have you done? these covenants are so
+tedious!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Nay, but swear then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing.
+[<span class="sdm">Mrs <span class="cnm">Brain.</span> runs a pin into him.</span>] Oh, the devil!
+what do you mean to run pins into me? this is
+perfect caterwauling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You fancy all this; I would not hurt you
+for the world. Come, you shall see how well I love
+you. [<span class="sdm">Kisses him: Mrs <span class="cnm">Brain.</span> pricks her.</span>] Oh!
+I think you have needles growing in your bed.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Both rise up.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">067</span><a id="page_067" name="page_067"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I will see what is the matter in it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Mr Woodall, where are you,
+verily?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Pox verily her! it is my landlady: Here,
+hide yourself behind the curtains, while I run to
+the door, to stop her entry.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Necessity has no law; I must be patient.
+<span class="sdr">[She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> In sadness, gentleman, I can hold no longer:
+I will not keep your wicked counsel, how you were
+locked up in the chest; for it lies heavy upon my
+conscience, and out it must, and shall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You may tell, but who will believe you?
+where's your witness?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, heaven is my witness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> That's your witness too, that you would
+have allured me to lewdness, have seduced a hopeful
+young man, as I am; you would have enticed
+youth: Mark that, beldam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I care not; my single evidence is enough
+to Mr Limberham; he will believe me, that thou
+burnest in unlawful lust to his beloved: So thou
+shalt be an outcast from my family.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then will I go to the elders of thy church,
+and lay thee open before them, that thou didst feloniously
+unlock that chest, with wicked intentions
+of purloining: So thou shalt be excommunicated
+from the congregation, thou Jezebel, and delivered
+over to Satan.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, our teacher will not excommunicate
+me, for taking the spoils of the ungodly, to
+clothe him; for it is a judged case amongst us, that
+a married woman may steal from her husband, to
+<span class="pgnm">068</span><a id="page_068" name="page_068"></a>
+relieve a brother. But yet them mayest atone this
+difference betwixt us; verily, thou mayest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Now thou art tempting me again. Well,
+if I had not the gift of continency, what might become
+of me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> The means have been offered thee, and
+thou hast kicked with the heel. I will go immediately
+to the tabernacle of Mr Limberham, and
+discover thee, O thou serpent, in thy crooked paths.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Hold, good landlady, not so fast; let me
+have time to consider on't; I may mollify, for
+flesh is frail. An hour or two hence we will confer
+together upon the premises.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Oh, on the sudden, I feel myself exceeding
+sick! Oh! oh!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Get you quickly to your closet, and fall
+to your <i>mirabilis</i>; this is no place for sick people.
+Begone, begone!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, I can go no farther.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But you shall, verily. I will thrust you
+down, out of pure pity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops,
+and my back acheth! here I will lay me down, and
+rest me.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed;
+<span class="cnm">Tricksy</span> shrieks, and rises; Mrs <span class="cnm">Brain.</span>
+rises from under the Bed in a fright.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> So! here's a fine business! my whole
+seraglio up in arms!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> So, so; if Providence had not sent me
+hither, what folly had been this day committed!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Oh the old woman in the oven! we both
+overheard your pious documents: Did we not, Mrs
+Brainsick?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Yes, we did overhear her; and we
+will both testify against her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">069</span><a id="page_069" name="page_069"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I have nothing to say for her. Nay, I
+told her her own; you can both bear me witness.
+If a sober man cannot be quiet in his own chamber
+for her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> For, you know, sir, when Mrs Brainsick
+and I over-heard her coming, having been before
+acquainted with her wicked purpose, we both agreed
+to trap her in it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> And now she would 'scape herself, by
+accusing us! but let us both conclude to cast an
+infamy upon her house, and leave it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Sweet Mr Woodall, intercede for me, or I
+shall be ruined.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Well, for once I'll be good-natured, and
+try my interest.&mdash;Pray, ladies, for my sake, let this
+business go no farther.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick. and Mrs Brain.</span> You may command us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> For, look you, the offence was properly to
+my person; and charity has taught me to forgive
+my enemies. I hope, Mrs Saintly, this will be a
+warning to you, to amend your life: I speak
+like a Christian, as one that tenders the welfare of
+your soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, I will consider.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Why, that is well said.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Gad, and
+so must I too; for my people is dissatisfied, and
+my government in danger: But this is no place
+for meditation.&mdash;Ladies, I wait on you.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV.&mdash;SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aldo</span> and <span class="cnm">Geoffery.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Despatch, Geoffery, despatch: The outlying
+punks will be upon us, ere I am in a readiness
+to give audience. Is the office well provided?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Geoff.</span> The stores are very low, sir: Some dolly
+petticoats, and manteaus we have; and half a
+<span class="pgnm">070</span><a id="page_070" name="page_070"></a>
+dozen pair of laced shoes, bought from court at
+second hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, there is not enough to rig
+out a mournival of whores: They'll think me grown
+a mere curmudgeon. Mercy on me, how will this
+glorious trade be carried on, with such a miserable
+stock!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Geoff.</span> I hear a coach already stopping at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well, somewhat in ornament for the body,
+somewhat in counsel for the mind; one thing must
+help out another, in this bad world: Whoring must
+go on.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Overdon,</span> and her Daughter <span class="cnm">Prue.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Over.</span> Ask blessing, Prue: He is the best
+father you ever had.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Bless thee, and make thee a substantial,
+thriving whore. Have your mother in your eye,
+Prue; it is good to follow good example. How old
+are you, Prue? Hold up your head, child.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pru.</span> Going o'my sixteen, father Aldo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> And you have been initiated but these two
+years: Loss of time, loss of precious time! Mrs
+Overdon, how much have you made of Prue, since
+she has been man's meat?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Over.</span> A very small matter, by my troth;
+considering the charges I have been at in her education:
+Poor Prue was born under an unlucky
+planet; I despair of a coach for her. Her first
+maiden-head brought me in but little, the weather-beaten
+old knight, that bought her of me, beat down
+the price so low. I held her at an hundred guineas,
+and he bid ten; and higher than thirty would not
+rise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A pox of his unlucky handsel! He can but
+fumble, and will not pay neither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pru.</span> Hang him; I could never endure him, father:
+<span class="pgnm">071</span><a id="page_071" name="page_071"></a>
+He is the filthiest old goat; and then he
+comes every day to our house, and eats out his
+thirty guineas; and at three months end, he threw
+me off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Over.</span> And since then, the poor child has
+dwindled, and dwindled away. Her next maiden-head
+brought me but ten; and from ten she fell to
+five; and at last to a single guinea: She has no
+luck to keeping; they all leave her, the more my
+sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> We must get her a husband then in the
+city; they bite rarely at a stale whore at this
+end of the town, new furbished up in a tawdry
+manteau.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Over.</span> No: Pray let her try her fortune a
+little longer in the world first: By my troth, I
+should be loth to be at all this cost, in her French,
+and her singing, to have her thrown away upon a
+husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, there can come no good of
+your swearing, Mrs Overdon: Say your prayers,
+Prue, and go duly to church o'Sundays, you'll thrive
+the better all the week. Come, have a good heart,
+child; I will keep thee myself: Thou shalt do my
+little business; and I'll find thee an able young
+fellow to do thine.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">PAD.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Daughter Pad, you are welcome: What, you
+have performed the last Christian office to your
+keeper; I saw you follow him up the heavy hill to
+Tyburn. Have you had never a business since his
+death?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Pad.</span> No indeed, father; never since execution-day.
+The night before, we lay together most
+lovingly in Newgate; and the next morning he
+lift up his eyes, and prepared his soul with a prayer,
+<span class="pgnm">072</span><a id="page_072" name="page_072"></a>
+while one might tell twenty; and then mounted
+the cart as merrily, as if he had been going for a
+purse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> You are a sorrowful widow, daughter Pad;
+but I'll take care of you.&mdash;Geoffery, see her rigged
+out immediately for a new voyage: Look in figure
+9, in the upper drawer, and give her out the flowered
+justacorps, with the petticoat belonging to it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Pad.</span> Could you not help to prefer me, father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Let me see&mdash;let me see:&mdash;Before George, I
+have it, and it comes as pat too! Go me to the very
+judge that sate upon him; it is an amorous, impotent
+old magistrate, and keeps admirably. I saw
+him leer upon you from the bench: He will tell
+you what is sweeter than strawberries and cream, before
+you part.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Termagant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Term.</span> O father, I think I shall go mad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> You are of the violentest temper, daughter
+Termagant! When had you a business last?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Term.</span> The last I had was with young Caster,
+that son-of-a-whore gamester: he brought me
+to taverns, to draw in young cullies, while he bubbled
+them at play; and, when he had picked up a
+considerable sum, and should divide, the cheating
+dog would sink my share, and swear,&mdash;Damn him, he
+won nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Unconscionable villain, to cozen you in
+your own calling!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Term.</span> When he loses upon the square, he
+comes home zoundsing and blooding; first beats me
+unmercifully, and then squeezes me to the last penny.
+He has used me so, that, Gad forgive me, I could
+almost forswear my trade. The rogue starves me
+too: He made me keep Lent last year till Whitsuntide,
+<span class="pgnm">073</span><a id="page_073" name="page_073"></a>
+and out-faced me with oaths it was but Easter.
+And what mads me most, I carry a bastard of the
+rogue's in my belly; and now he turns me off, and
+will not own it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Over.</span> Lord, how it quops! you are half a
+year gone, madam.&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Laying her hand on her belly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Term.</span> I feel the young rascal kicking already,
+like his father.&mdash;Oh, there is an elbow thrusting
+out: I think, in my conscience, he is palming
+and topping in my belly; and practising for a livelihood,
+before he comes into the world.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Geoffery, set her down in the register, that I
+may provide her a mid-wife, and a dry and wet nurse:
+When you are up again, as heaven send you a good
+hour, we will pay him off at law, i'faith. You have
+him under black and white, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Term.</span> Yes, I have a note under his hand
+for two hundred pounds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A note under his hand! that is a chip in
+porridge; it is just nothing.&mdash;Look, Geoffery, to
+the figure 12, for old half-shirts for childbed linen.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Hackney.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hack.</span> O, madam Termagant, are you here? Justice,
+father Aldo, justice!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Why, what is the matter, daughter Hackney?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hack.</span> She has violated the law of nations; for
+yesterday she inveigled my own natural cully from
+me, a married lord, and made him false to my bed,
+father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Term.</span> Come, you are an illiterate whore. He is
+my lord now; and, though you call him fool, it is
+well known he is a critic, gentlewoman. You never
+read a play in all your life; and I gained him
+by my wit, and so I'll keep him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hack.</span> My comfort is, I have had the best of him;
+<span class="pgnm">074</span><a id="page_074" name="page_074"></a>
+he can take up no more, till his father dies: And
+so, much good may do you with my cully, and my
+clap into the bargain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Then there is a father for your child, my
+lord's son and heir by Mr Caster. But henceforward,
+to preserve peace betwixt you, I ordain, that
+you shall ply no more in my daughter Hackney's
+quarters: You shall have the city, from White-Chapel
+to Temple-Bar, and she shall have to Covent-Garden
+downwards: At the play-houses, she shall
+ply the boxes, because she has the better face; and
+you shall have the pit, because you can prattle best
+out of a vizor mask.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Pad.</span> Then all friends, and confederates.
+Now let us have father Aldo's delight, and so adjourn
+the house.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well said, daughter.&mdash;Lift up your voices,
+and sing like nightingales, you tory rory jades. Courage,
+I say; as long as the merry pence hold out,
+you shall none of you die in Shoreditch.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">A hey, boys, a hey! here he comes, that will
+swinge you all! down, you little jades, and worship
+him; it is the genius of whoring.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> And down went chairs and table, and
+out went every candle. Ho, brave old patriarch in
+the middle of the church militant! whores of all
+sorts; forkers and ruin-tailed: Now come I gingling
+in with my bells, and fly at the whole covey.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A hey, a hey, boys! the town's thy own;
+burn, ravish, and destroy!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> We will have a night of it, like Alexander,
+when he burnt Persepolis: <i>tuez, tuez, tuez!
+point de quartier.</i><br />
+<span class="sdr">[He runs in amongst them, and they scuttle about
+the room.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">075</span><a id="page_075" name="page_075"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly, Pleasance, Judith,</span> with
+Broom-sticks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> What, in the midst of Sodom! O thou
+lewd young man! my indignation boils over against
+these harlots; and thus I sweep them from out my
+family.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Down with the Suburbians, down with
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> O spare my daughters, Mrs Saintly! Sweet
+Mrs Pleasance, spare my flesh and blood!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Keep the door open, and help to secure
+the retreat, father: There is no pity to be expected.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[The Whores run out, followed by <span class="cnm">Saintly,
+Pleasance,</span> and <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Welladay, welladay! one of my daughters is
+big with bastard, and she laid at her gascoins most
+unmercifully! every stripe she had, I felt it: The
+first fruit of whoredom is irrecoverably lost!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Make haste, and comfort her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I will, I will; and yet I have a vexatious
+business, which calls me first another way. The
+rogue, my son, is certainly come over; he has been
+seen in town four days ago.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> It is impossible: I'll not believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A friend of mine met his old man, Giles,
+this very morning, in quest of me; and Giles assured
+him, his master is lodged in this very street.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> In this very street! how knows he that?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> He dogged him to the corner of it; and
+then my son turned back, and threatened him.
+But I'll find out Giles, and then I'll make such an
+example of my reprobate!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> If Giles be discovered, I am undone!&mdash;Why,
+Gervase, where are you, sirrah! Hey, hey!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">076</span><a id="page_076" name="page_076"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Gervase.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Run quickly to that betraying rascal Giles, a
+rogue, who would take Judas's bargain out of his
+hands, and undersell him. Command him strictly
+to mew himself up in his lodgings, till farther orders:
+and in case he be refractory, let him know, I
+have not forgot to kick and cudgel. That <i>memento</i>
+would do well for you too, sirrah.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Thank your worship; you have always been
+liberal of your hands to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> And you have richly deserved it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> I will not say, who has better deserved it
+of my old master.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Away, old Epictetus, about your business,
+and leave your musty morals, or I shall&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Nay, I won't forfeit my own wisdom so
+far as to suffer for it. Rest you merry: I'll do my
+best, and heaven mend all.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, I have waited till you were alone,
+and am come to rebuke you, out of the zeal of my
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> It is the spirit of persecution. Dioclesian,
+and Julian the apostate, were but types of thee.
+Get thee hence, thou old Geneva testament: thou
+art a part of the ceremonial law, and hast been abolished
+these twenty years.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> All this is nothing, sir. I am privy to your
+plots: I'll discover them to Mr Limberham, and
+make the house too hot for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What, you can talk in the language of the
+world, I see!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> I can, I can, sir; and in the language of
+the flesh and devil too, if you provoke me to despair:
+You must, and shall be mine, this night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">077</span><a id="page_077" name="page_077"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The very ghost of queen Dido in the ballad.<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-10">[10]</a></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Delay no longer, or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Or! you will not swear, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Uds-niggers but I will; and that so loud,
+that Mr Limberham shall hear me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Uds-niggers, I confess, is a very dreadful
+oath. You could lie naturally before, as you are a
+fanatic; if you can swear such rappers too, there
+is hope of you; you may be a woman of the world
+in time. Well, you shall be satisfied, to the utmost
+farthing, to-night, and in your own chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Or, expect to-morrow&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> All shall be atoned ere then. Go, provide
+the bottle of clary, the Westphalia ham, and other
+fortifications of nature; we shall see what may be
+done. What! an old woman must not be cast away.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Chucks her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Then, verily, I am appeased.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, no relapsing into verily; that is in
+our bargain. Look how she weeps for joy! It is a
+good old soul, I warrant her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> You will not fail?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Dost thou think I have no compassion
+for thy gray hairs? Away, away; our love may be
+discovered: We must avoid scandal; it is thy own
+maxim.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></span><br />
+They are all now at ombre; and Brainsick's maid
+has promised to send her mistress up.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">078</span><a id="page_078" name="page_078"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Pleasance.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">That fury here again!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I'll conquer my proud spirit, I am
+resolved on it, and speak kindly to him.&mdash;What,
+alone, sir! If my company be not troublesome; or
+a tender young creature, as I am, may safely trust
+herself with a man of such prowess, in love affairs&mdash;It
+wonnot be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> So! there is one broadside already: I
+must sheer off.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> What, you have been pricking up and
+down here upon a cold scent<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-11">[11]</a>; but, at last, you have
+hit it off, it seems! Now for a fair view at the wife
+or mistress: up the wind, and away with it: Hey,
+Jowler!&mdash;I think I am bewitched, I cannot hold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Your servant, your servant, madam: I am
+in a little haste at present.<span class="sdr">[Going.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Pray resolve me first, for which of them
+you lie in ambush; for, methinks, you have the
+mien of a spider in her den. Come, I know the
+web is spread, and whoever comes, Sir Cranion stands
+ready to dart out, hale her in, and shed his venom.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] But such a terrible wasp, as she,
+will spoil the snare, if I durst tell her so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> It is unconscionably done of me, to debar
+you the freedom and civilities of the house. Alas,
+poor gentleman! to take a lodging at so dear a rate,
+and not to have the benefit of his bargain!&mdash;Mischief
+on me, what needed I have said that?<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The dialogue will go no farther. Farewell,
+gentle, quiet lady.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Pray stay a little; I'll not leave you thus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I know it; and therefore mean to leave
+you first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> O, I find it now! you are going to set up
+<span class="pgnm">079</span><a id="page_079" name="page_079"></a>
+your bills, like a love-mountebank, for the speedy
+cure of distressed widows, old ladies, and languishing
+maids in the green-sickness: a sovereign remedy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> That last, for maids, would be thrown
+away: Few of your age are qualified for the medicine.
+What the devil would you be at, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> I am in the humour of giving you good
+counsel. The wife can afford you but the leavings
+of a fop; and to a witty man, as you think yourself,
+that is nauseous: The mistress has fed upon a fool
+so long, she is carrion too, and common into the
+bargain. Would you beat a ground for game in the
+afternoon, when my lord mayor's pack had been
+before you in the morning?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I had rather sit five hours at one of his
+greasy feasts, then hear you talk.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Your two mistresses keep both shop and
+warehouse; and what they cannot put off in gross,
+to the keeper and the husband, they sell by retail
+to the next chance-customer. Come, are you edified?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I am considering how to thank you for
+your homily; and, to make a sober application of it,
+you may have some laudable design yourself in this
+advice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Meaning, some secret inclination to that
+amiable person of yours?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I confess, I am vain enough to hope it;
+for why should you remove the two dishes, but to
+make me fall more hungrily on the third?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Perhaps, indeed, in the way of honour&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Paw, paw! that word honour has almost
+turned my stomach: it carries a villainous interpretation
+of matrimony along with it. But, in a civil
+way, I could be content to deal with you, as the
+church does with the heads of your fanatics, offer
+you a lusty benefice to stop your mouth; if fifty
+<span class="pgnm">080</span><a id="page_080" name="page_080"></a>
+guineas, and a courtesy more worth, will win you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Out upon thee! fifty guineas! Dost thou
+think I'll sell myself? And at a playhouse price
+too? Whenever I go, I go all together: No cutting
+from the whole piece; he who has me shall
+have the fag-end with the rest, I warrant him. Be
+satisfied, thy sheers shall never enter into my cloth.
+But, look to thyself, thou impudent belswagger:
+I will he revenged; I will.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> The maid will give warning, that is my
+comfort; for she is bribed on my side. I have another
+kind of love to this girl, than to either of the
+other two; but a fanatic's daughter, and the noose
+of matrimony, are such intolerable terms! O, here
+she comes, who will sell me better cheap.</p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE <i>opens to</i> <span class="cnm">Brainsick's</span> <i>Apartment.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> How now, sir? what impudence is
+this of yours, to approach my lodgings?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You lately honoured mine; and it is the
+part of a well-bred man, to return your visit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> If I could have imagined how base
+a fellow you had been, you should not then have
+been troubled with my company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> How could I guess, that you intended me
+the favour, without first acquainting me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Could I do it, ungrateful as you
+are, with more obligation to you, or more hazard
+to myself, than by putting my note into your glove?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Was it yours, then? I believed it came
+from Mrs Tricksy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> You wished it so; which made you
+so easily believe it. I heard the pleasant dialogue
+betwixt you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I am glad you did; for you could not but
+observe, with how much care I avoided all occasions
+<span class="pgnm">081</span><a id="page_081" name="page_081"></a>
+of railing at you; to which she urged me, like a
+malicious woman, as she was.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> By the same token, you vowed and
+swore never to look on Mrs Brainsick!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But I had my mental reservations in a
+readiness. I had vowed fidelity to you before; and
+there went my second oath, i'faith: it vanished in
+a twinkling, and never gnawed my conscience in
+the least.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Well, I shall never heartily forgive
+you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Mr Brainsick, Mr Brainsick, what
+do you mean, to make my lady lose her game thus?
+Pray, come back, and take up her cards again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> My husband, as I live! Well, for all
+my quarrel to you, step immediately into that little
+dark closet: it is for my private occasions; there is
+no lock, but he will not stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Thus am I ever tantalized!<span class="sdr">[Goes in.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What, am I become your drudge? your
+slave? the property of all your pleasures? Shall I,
+the lord and master of your life, become subservient;
+and the noble name of husband be dishonoured?
+No, though all the cards were kings and queens,
+and Indies to be gained by every deal&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> My dear, I am coming to do my
+duty. I did but go up a little, (I whispered you for
+what) and am returning immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Your sex is but one universal ordure, a
+nuisance, and incumbrance of that majestic creature,
+man: yet I myself am mortal too. Nature's necessities
+have called me up; produce your utensil
+of urine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> It is not in the way, child: You
+may go down into the garden.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">082</span><a id="page_082" name="page_082"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Brain.</span> The voyage is too far: though the way
+were paved with pearls and diamonds, every step of
+mine is precious, as the march of monarchs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Then my steps, which are not so
+precious, shall be employed for you: I will call up
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I will not dance attendance. At the present,
+your closet shall be honoured.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> O lord, dear, it is not worthy to receive
+such a man as you are.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Nature presses; I am in haste.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> He must be discovered, and I unavoidably
+undone!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Brainsick</span> goes to the door, and <span class="cnm">Woodall</span>
+meets him: She shrieks out.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Monsieur Woodall!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sir, begone, and make no noise, or you
+will spoil all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Spoil all, quotha! what does he mean,
+in the name of wonder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking him aside.</span>] Hark you, Mr Brainsick,
+is the devil in you, that you and your wife
+come hither, to disturb my intrigue, which you
+yourself engaged me in, with Mrs Tricksy, to revenge
+you on Limberham? Why, I had made an
+appointment with her here; but, hearing somebody
+come up, I retired into the closet, till I was satisfied
+it was not the keeper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> But why this intrigue in my wife's chamber?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Why, you turn my brains, with talking to
+me of your wife's chamber! do you lie in common?
+the wife and husband, the keeper and the mistress?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I am afraid they are quarrelling;
+pray heaven I get off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Once again, I am the sultan of this place:
+Mr Limberham is the mogul of the next mansion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Though I am a stranger in the house, it
+<span class="pgnm">083</span><a id="page_083" name="page_083"></a>
+is impossible I should be so much mistaken: I say,
+this is Limberham's lodging.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> You would not venture a wager of ten
+pounds, that you are not mistaken?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> It is done: I will lay you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Who shall be judge?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Who better than your wife? She cannot
+be partial, because she knows not on which side
+you have laid.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Content.&mdash;Come hither, lady mine: Whose
+lodgings are these? who is lord, and grand seignior
+of them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Oh, goes it there?&mdash;Why
+should you ask me such a question, when every
+body in the house can tell they are 'nown dear's?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Now are you satisfied? Children and fools,
+you know the proverb&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Pox on me! nothing but such a positive
+coxcomb as I am, would have laid his money upon
+such odds; as if you did not know your own lodgings
+better than I, at half a day's warning! And
+that which vexes me more than the loss of my money,
+is the loss of my adventure!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> It shall be spent: We will have a treat
+with it. This is a fool of the first magnitude.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Let my own dear alone, to find a
+fool out.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Bully Brainsick, Pug has sent me to you
+on an embassy, to bring you down to cards again;
+she is in her mulligrubs already; she will never forgive
+you the last <i>vol</i> you won. It is but losing a
+little to her, out of complaisance, as they say, to a
+fair lady; and whatever she wins, I will make up
+to you again in private.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I would not be that slave you are, to enjoy
+<span class="pgnm">084</span><a id="page_084" name="page_084"></a>
+the treasures of the east. The possession of
+Peru, and of Potosi, should not buy me to the bargain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Will you leave your perboles, and come
+then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> No; for I have won a wager, to be spent
+luxuriously at Long's; with Pleasance of the party,
+and Termagant Tricksy; and I will pass, in person,
+to the preparation: Come, matrimony.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Brainsick,</span> Mrs <span class="cnm">Brain.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Saintly,</span> and <span class="cnm">Pleasance.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> To him: I'll second you: now for mischief!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Arise, Mr Limberham, arise; for conspiracies
+are hatched against you, and a new Faux is
+preparing to blow up your happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> What is the matter, landlady? Pr'ythee,
+speak good honest English, and leave thy canting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, thy beloved is led astray, by the
+young man Woodall, that vessel of uncleanness:
+I beheld them communing together; she feigned
+herself sick, and retired to her tent in the garden-house;
+and I watched her out-going, and behold he
+followed her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Do you stand unmoved, and hear all this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Before George, I am thunder-struck!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Take to thee thy resolution, and avenge
+thyself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But give me leave to consider first: A
+man must do nothing rashly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> I could tear out the villain's eyes, for dishonouring
+you, while you stand considering, as you
+call it. Are you a man, and suffer this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, I am a man; but a man's but a man,
+you know: I am recollecting myself, how these
+things can be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">085</span><a id="page_085" name="page_085"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Saint.</span> How they can be! I have heard them; I
+have seen them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Heard them, and seen them! It may be
+so; but yet I cannot enter into this same business:
+I am amazed, I must confess; but the best is, I do
+not believe one word of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Make haste, and thine own eyes shall testify
+against her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, if my own eyes testify, it may be so:&mdash;but
+it is impossible, however; for I am making
+a settlement upon her, this very day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Look, and satisfy yourself, ere you make
+that settlement on so false a creature.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But yet, if I should look, and not find her
+false, then I must cast in another hundred, to make
+her satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Was there ever such a meek, hen-hearted
+creature!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily, thou has not the spirit of a cock-chicken.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Before George, but I have the spirit of a
+lion, and I will tear her limb from limb&mdash;if I could
+believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Love, jealousy, and disdain, how they
+torture me at once! and this insensible creature&mdash;were
+I but in his place&mdash;[<span class="sdm">To him.</span>] Think, that this
+very instant she is yours no more: Now, now she
+is giving up herself, with so much violence of
+love, that if thunder roared, she could not hear it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I have been whetting all this while: They
+shall be so taken in the manner, that Mars and
+Venus shall be nothing to them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Make haste; go on then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, I will go on;&mdash;and yet my mind
+misgives me plaguily.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Again backsliding!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Have you no sense of honour in you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">086</span><a id="page_086" name="page_086"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Well, honour is honour, and I must
+go: But I shall never get me such another Pug
+again! O, my heart! my poor tender heart! it is
+just breaking with Pug's unkindness!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[They drag him out.</span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<span class="cnm">Woodall</span> <i>and</i> <span class="cnm">Tricksy</span> <i>discovered in
+the Garden-house.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gervase</span> to them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Make haste, and save yourself, sir; the
+enemy's at hand: I have discovered him from the
+corner, where you set me sentry.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Who is it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Who should it be, but Limberham? armed
+with a two-hand fox. O Lord, O Lord!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Enter quickly into the still-house, both of
+you, and leave me to him: There is a spring-lock
+within, to open it when we are gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Well, I have won the party and revenge,
+however: A minute longer, and I had won the tout.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[They go in: She locks the Door.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham,</span> with a great Sword.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Disloyal Pug!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> What humour is this? you are drunk, it
+seems: Go sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Thou hast robbed me of my repose for
+ever: I am like Macbeth, after the death of good
+king Duncan; methinks a voice says to me,&mdash;Sleep
+no more; Tricksy has murdered sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Now I find it: You are willing to save
+your settlement, and are sent by some of your wise
+counsellors, to pick a quarrel with me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I have been your cully above these seven
+years; but, at last, my eyes are opened to your
+witchcraft; and indulgent heaven has taken care
+<span class="pgnm">087</span><a id="page_087" name="page_087"></a>
+of my preservation. In short, madam, I have found
+you out; and, to cut off preambles, produce your
+adulterer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> If I have any, you know him best: You
+are the only ruin of my reputation. But if I have
+dishonoured my family, for the love of you, methinks
+you should be the last man to upbraid me
+with it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I am sure you are of the family of your
+abominable great grandam Eve; but produce the
+man, or, by my father's soul&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Still I am in the dark.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, you have been in the dark; I know
+it: But I shall bring you to light immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You are not jealous?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> No; I am too certain to be jealous: But
+you have a man here, that shall be nameless; let
+me see him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Oh, if that be your business, you had best
+search: And when you have wearied yourself, and
+spent your idle humour, you may find me above, in
+my chamber, and come to ask my pardon.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You may go, madam; but I shall beseech
+your ladyship to leave the key of the still-house
+door behind you: I have a mind to some of the
+sweet-meats you have locked up there; you understand
+me. Now, for the old dog-trick! you have
+lost the key, I know already, but I am prepared
+for that; you shall know you have no fool to deal
+with.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No; here is the key: Take it, and satisfy
+your foolish curiosity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] This confidence amazes me! If
+those two gipsies have abused me, and I should
+not find him there now, this would make an immortal
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I have put him to a stand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">088</span><a id="page_088" name="page_088"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Hang it, it is no matter; I will be satisfied:
+If it comes to a rupture, I know the way to
+buy my peace. Pug, produce the key.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Takes him about the neck.</span>] My dear, I have
+it for you: come, and kiss me. Why would you
+be so unkind to suspect my faith now! when I
+have forsaken all the world for you.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Kiss again.</span>]
+But I am not in the mood of quarrelling to-night;
+I take this jealousy the best way, as the effect of
+your passion. Come up, and we will go to bed together,
+and be friends.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Kiss again.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Pug is in a pure humour to-night,
+and it would vex a man to lose it; but yet I must
+be satisfied:&mdash;and therefore, upon mature consideration,
+give me the key.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You are resolved, then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, I am resolved; for I have sworn to
+myself by Styx; and that is an irrevocable oath.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Now, see your folly: There's the key.
+<span class="sdr">[Gives it him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Why, that is a loving Pug; I will prove
+thee innocent immediately: And that will put an
+end to all controversies betwixt us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Yes, it shall put an end to all our quarrels:
+Farewell for the last time, sir. Look well upon my
+face, that you may remember it; for, from this
+time forward, I have sworn it irrevocably too, that
+you shall never see it more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, but hold a little, Pug. What's the
+meaning of this new commotion?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No more; but satisfy your foolish fancy,
+for you are master: and, besides, I am willing to be
+justified.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Then you shall be justified.
+<span class="sdr">[Puts the Key in the Door.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I know I shall: Farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But, are you sure you shall?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">089</span><a id="page_089" name="page_089"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, no, he is there: You'll find him up
+in the chimney, or behind the door; or, it may be,
+crowded into some little galley-pot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But you will not leave me, if I should
+look?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You are not worthy my answer: I am gone.
+<span class="sdr">[Going out.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Hold, hold, divine Pug, and let me recollect
+a little.&mdash;This is no time for meditation neither:
+while I deliberate, she may be gone. She must be
+innocent, or she could never be so confident and
+careless.&mdash;Sweet Pug, forgive me.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Kneels.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I am provoked too far.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> It is the property of a goddess to forgive.
+Accept of this oblation; with this humble kiss, I
+here present it to thy fair hand: I conclude thee
+innocent without looking, and depend wholly upon
+thy mercy.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Offers the Key.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No, keep it, keep it: the lodgings are
+your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> If I should keep it, I were unworthy of
+forgiveness: I will no longer hold this fatal instrument
+of our separation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Taking it.</span>] Rise, sir: I will endeavour to
+overcome my nature, and forgive you; for I am so
+scrupulously nice in love, that it grates my very
+soul to be suspected: Yet, take my counsel, and
+satisfy yourself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I would not be satisfied, to be possessor of
+Potosi, as my brother Brainsick says. Come to bed,
+dear Pug.&mdash;Now would not I change my condition,
+to be an eastern monarch!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> and <span class="cnm">Gervase.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> O lord, sir, are we alive!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Alive! why, we were never in any danger:
+Well, she is a rare manager of a fool!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">090</span><a id="page_090" name="page_090"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Are you disposed yet to receive good
+counsel? Has affliction wrought upon you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Yes, I must ask thy advice in a most important
+business. I have promised a charity to
+Mrs Saintly, and she expects it with a beating
+heart a-bed: Now, I have at present no running
+cash to throw away; my ready money is all paid to
+Mrs Tricksy, and the bill is drawn upon me for
+to-night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Take advice of your pillow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> No, sirrah; since you have not the grace
+to offer yours, I will for once make use of my authority
+and command you to perform the foresaid
+drudgery in my place.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Zookers, I cannot answer it to my conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, an your conscience can suffer you
+to swear, it shall suffer you to lie too: I mean in
+this sense. Come, no denial, you must do it; she
+is rich, and there is a provision for your life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> I beseech you, sir, have pity on my soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Have you pity of your body: There is all
+the wages you must expect.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Well, sir, you have persuaded me: I will
+arm my conscience with a resolution of making
+her an honourable amends by marriage; for to-morrow
+morning a parson shall authorise my labours,
+and turn fornication into duty. And, moreover, I
+will enjoin myself, by way of penance, not to touch
+her for seven nights after.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Thou wert predestinated for a husband, I
+see, by that natural instinct: As we walk, I will
+instruct thee how to behave thyself, with secrecy
+and silence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> I have a key of the garden, to let us out
+the back-way into the street, and so privately to our
+lodging.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> 'Tis well: I will plot the rest of my affairs
+<span class="pgnm">091</span><a id="page_091" name="page_091"></a>
+a-bed; for it is resolved that Limberham shall not
+wear horns alone: and I am impatient till I add
+to my trophy the spoils of Brainsick.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V.&mdash;SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall</span> and <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Well, you are a lucky man! Mrs Brainsick
+is fool enough to believe you wholly innocent; and
+that the adventure of the garden-house, last night,
+was only a vision of Mrs Saintly's.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I knew, if I could once speak with her,
+all would be set right immediately; for, had I been
+there, look you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> As you were, most certainly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Limberham must have found me out;
+that <i>fe-fa-fum</i> of a keeper would have smelt the
+blood of a cuckold-maker: They say, he was peeping
+and butting about in every cranny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> But one. You must excuse my unbelief,
+though Mrs Brainsick is better satisfied. She and
+her husband, you know, went out this morning to
+the New Exchange: There she has given him the
+slip; and pretending to call at her tailor's to try
+her stays for a new gown&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I understand thee;&mdash;she fetched me a
+short turn, like a hare before her muse, and will
+immediately run hither to covert?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Yes; but because your chamber will be least
+suspicious, she appoints to meet you there; that,
+if her husband should come back, he may think
+her still abroad, and you may have time&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> To take in the horn-work. It happens as
+I wish; for Mrs Tricksy, and her keeper, are gone
+out with father Aldo, to complete her settlement;
+my landlady is safe at her morning exercise with
+<span class="pgnm">092</span><a id="page_092" name="page_092"></a>
+my man Gervase, and her daughter not stirring:
+the house is our own, and iniquity may walk bare-faced.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> And, to make all sure, I am ordered to be
+from home. When I come back again, I shall
+knock at your door, with,<br />
+<span class="i1"><i>Speak, brother, speak;</i></span><span class="sdr">[Singing.</span><br />
+<span class="i1"><i>Is the deed done?</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> <i>Long ago, long ago;</i>&mdash;and then we come
+panting out together. Oh, I am ravished with the
+imagination on't!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Well, I must retire; good-morrow to you,
+sir.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Now do I humbly conceive, that this
+mistress in matrimony will give me more pleasure
+than the former; for your coupled spaniels,
+when they are once let loose, are afterwards the
+highest rangers.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mrs <span class="cnm">Brainsick,</span> running.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Oh dear Mr Woodall, what shall I do?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Recover breath, and I'll instruct you in
+the next chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> But my husband follows me at heels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Has he seen you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I hope not: I thought I had left him
+sure enough at the Exchange; but, looking behind
+me, as I entered into the house, I saw him walking
+a round rate this way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Since he has not seen you, there is no
+danger; you need but step into my chamber, and
+there we will lock ourselves up, and transform him
+in a twinkling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I had rather have got into my own;
+but Judith is gone out with the key, I doubt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Yes, by your appointment. But so much
+<span class="pgnm">093</span><a id="page_093" name="page_093"></a>
+the better; for when the cuckold finds no company,
+he will certainly go a sauntering again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Make haste, then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Immediately.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Goes to open the Door hastily,
+and breaks his Key.</span>] What is the matter here? the
+key turns round, and will not open! As I live, we
+are undone! with too much haste it is broken!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Then I am lost; for I cannot enter
+into my own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> This next room is Limberham's. See!
+the door's open; and he and his mistress are both
+abroad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> There is no remedy, I must venture
+in; for his knowing I am come back so soon,
+must be cause of jealousy enough, if the fool should
+find me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Looking in.</span>] See there! Mrs Tricksy has
+left her Indian gown upon the bed; clap it on, and
+turn your back: he will easily mistake you for her,
+if he should look in upon you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I will put on my vizor-mask, however,
+for more security. [<span class="sdm">Noise.</span>] Hark! I hear him.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Goes in.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What, in a musty musing, monsieur
+Woodall! Let me enter into the affair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You may guess it, by the post I have
+taken up.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> O, at the door of the damsel Tricksy!
+your business is known by your abode; as the posture
+of a porter before a gate, denotes to what family
+he belongs. [<span class="sdm">Looks in.</span>] It is an assignation, I
+see; for yonder she stands, with her back toward
+me, drest up for the duel, with all the ornaments
+of the east. Now for the judges of the field, to
+<span class="pgnm">094</span><a id="page_094" name="page_094"></a>
+divide the sun and wind betwixt the combatants,
+and a tearing trumpeter to sound the charge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> It is a private quarrel, to be decided without
+seconds; and therefore you would do me a
+favour to withdraw.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Your Limberham is nearer than you imagine:
+I left him almost entering at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Plague of all impertinent cuckolds! they
+are ever troublesome to us honest lovers: so intruding!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> They are indeed, where their company is
+not desired.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sure he has some tutelar devil to guard
+his brows! just when she had bobbed him, and
+made an errand home, to come to me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> It is unconscionably done of him. But
+you shall not adjourn your love for this: the Brainsick
+has an ascendant over him; I am your guarantee;
+he is doomed a cuckold, in disdain of destiny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What mean you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> To stand before the door with my brandished
+blade, and defend the entrance: He dies
+upon the point, if he approaches.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> If I durst trust it, it is heroic.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> It is the office of a friend: I will do it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Should he know hereafter his
+wife were here, he would think I had enjoyed her,
+though I had not; it is best venturing for something.
+He takes pains enough, on conscience, for
+his cuckoldom; and, by my troth, has earned it
+fairly.&mdash;But, may a man venture upon your promise?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Bars of brass, and doors of adamant, could
+not more secure you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I know it; but still gentle means are best:
+<span class="pgnm">095</span><a id="page_095" name="page_095"></a>
+You may come to force at last. Perhaps you may
+wheedle him away: it is but drawing a trope or
+two upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> He shall have it, with all the artillery of
+eloquence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Ay, ay; your figure breaks no bones.
+With your good leave.&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Goes in.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Thou hast it, boy. Turn to him, madam;
+to her Woodall: and St George for merry England.
+<i>Tan ta ra ra ra, ra ra! Dub, a dub, dub; Tan ta ra
+ra ra.</i></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> How now, bully Brainsick! What, upon
+the <i>Tan ta ra</i>, by yourself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Clangor, <i>taratantara,</i> murmur.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Commend me to honest <i>lingua Franca</i>.
+Why, this is enough to stun a Christian, with your
+Hebrew, and your Greek, and such like Latin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Out, ignorance!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Then ignorance, by your leave; for I must
+enter.
+<span class="sdr">[Attempts to pass.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Why in such haste? the fortune of Greece
+depends not on it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But Pug's fortune does: that is dearer to
+me than Greece, and sweeter than ambergrease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> You will not find her here. Come, you
+are jealous; you are haunted with a raging fiend,
+that robs you of your sweet repose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, an you are in your perbole's again!
+Look you, it is Pug is jealous of her jewels: she
+has left the key of her cabinet behind, and has desired
+me to bring it back to her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Poor fool! he little thinks she is here before
+him!&mdash;Well, this pretence will never pass on
+me; for I dive deeper into your affairs; you are
+<span class="pgnm">096</span><a id="page_096" name="page_096"></a>
+jealous. But, rather than my soul should be concerned
+for a sex so insignificant&mdash;Ha! the gods!
+If I thought my proper wife were now within, and
+prostituting all her treasures to the lawless love of
+an adulterer, I would stand as intrepid, as firm, and
+as unmoved, as the statue of a Roman gladiator.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">In the same tone.</span>] Of a Roman
+gladiator!&mdash;Now are you as mad as a March hare; but
+I am in haste, to return to Pug: yet, by your favour,
+I will first secure the cabinet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> No, you must not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Must not? What, may not a man come
+by you, to look upon his own goods and chattels,
+in his own chamber?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> No; with this sabre I defy the destinies,
+and dam up the passage with my person; like a
+rugged rock, opposed against the roaring of the
+boisterous billows. Your jealousy shall have no
+course through me, though potentates and princes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Pr'ythee, what have we to do with potentates
+and princes? Will you leave your troping,
+and let me pass?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> You have your utmost answer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> If this maggot bite a little deeper, we
+shall have you a citizen of Bethlem yet, ere dog-days.
+Well, I say little; but I will tell Pug on it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> She knows it already, by your favour&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Knocking.</span><br />
+Sound a retreat, you lusty lovers, or the enemy
+will charge you in the flank, with a fresh reserve:
+March off, march off upon the spur, ere he can
+reach you.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">097</span><a id="page_097" name="page_097"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Woodall.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> How now, baron Tell-clock<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-12">[12]</a>, is the passage
+clear?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Clear as a level, without hills or woods,
+and void of ambuscade.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But Limberham will return immediately,
+when he finds not his mistress where he thought he
+left her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Friendship, which has done much, will
+yet do more. [<span class="sdm">Shows a key.</span>] With this <i>passe par tout</i>,
+I will instantly conduct her to my own chamber,
+that she may out-face the keeper, she has been there;
+and, when my wife returns, who is my slave, I will
+lay my conjugal commands upon her, to affirm,
+they have been all this time together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I shall never make you amends for this
+kindness, my dear Padron. But would it not be
+better, if you would take the pains to run after
+Limberham, and stop him in his way ere he reach
+the place where he thinks he left his mistress; then
+hold him in discourse as long as possibly you can,
+till you guess your wife may be returned, that so
+they may appear together?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> I warrant you: <i>laissez faire a Marc
+Antoine.</i><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Now, madam, you may venture out in
+safety.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">098</span><a id="page_098" name="page_098"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Entering.</span>] Pray heaven I may.
+<span class="sdr">[Noise.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Hark! I hear Judith's voice: it happens
+well that she's returned: slip into your chamber
+immediately, and send back the gown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> I will:&mdash;but are not you a wicked
+man, to put me into all this danger?
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Let what can happen, my comfort is, at
+least, I have enjoyed. But this is no place for consideration.
+Be jogging, good Mr Woodall, out of
+this family, while you are well; and go plant in
+some other country, where your virtues are not so
+famous.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy,</span> with a box of writings.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> What, wandering up and down, as if you
+wanted an owner? Do you know that I am lady of
+the manor; and that all wefts and strays belong to
+me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I have waited for you above an hour; but
+friar Bacon's head has been lately speaking to me,&mdash;that
+time is past. In a word, your keeper has been
+here, and will return immediately; we must defer
+our happiness till some more favourable time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I fear him not; he has this morning armed
+me against himself, by this settlement; the next
+time he rebels, he gives me a fair occasion of leaving
+him for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> But is this conscience in you? not to let
+him have his bargain, when he has paid so dear for
+it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You do not know him: he must perpetually
+be used ill, or he insults. Besides, I have
+gained an absolute dominion over him: he must
+not see, when I bid him wink. If you argue after
+this, either you love me not, or dare not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Go in, madam: I was never dared before.
+<span class="pgnm">099</span><a id="page_099" name="page_099"></a>
+I'll but scout a little, and follow you immediately.
+[<span class="sdm"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> goes in.</span>] I find a mistress is only kept for
+other men: and the keeper is but her man in a green
+livery, bound to serve a warrant for the doe, whenever
+she pleases, or is in season.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Judith,</span> with the Night-gown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Still you're a lucky man! Mr Brainsick has
+been exceeding honourable: he ran, as if a legion
+of bailiffs had been at his heels, and overtook Limberham
+in the street. Here, take the gown; lay
+it where you found it, and the danger's over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Speak softly; Mrs Tricksy is returned.
+[<i>Looks in.</i>] Oh, she's gone into her closet, to lay
+up her writings: I can throw it on the bed, ere she
+perceive it has been wanting.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Throws it in.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jud.</span> Every woman would not have done this for
+you, which I have done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I am sensible of it, little Judith; there's
+a time to come shall pay for all. I hear her returning:
+not a word; away.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> What, is a second summons needful? my
+favours have not been so cheap, that they should
+stick upon my hands. It seems, you slight your
+bill of fare, because you know it; or fear to be invited
+to your loss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I was willing to secure my happiness from
+interruption. A true soldier never falls upon the
+plunder, while the enemy is in the field.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> He has been so often baffled, that he grows
+contemptible. Were he here, should he see you
+enter into my closet; yet&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You are like to be put upon the trial, for
+I hear his voice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> 'Tis so: go in, and mark the event now:
+<span class="pgnm">100</span><a id="page_100" name="page_100"></a>
+be but as unconcerned, as you are safe, and trust
+him to my management.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I must venture it; because to be seen here
+would have the same effect, as to be taken within.
+Yet I doubt you are too confident.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[He goes in.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> and <span class="cnm">Brainsick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> How now, Pug? returned so soon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> When I saw you came not for me, I was
+loth to be long without you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> But which way came you, that I saw you
+not?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> The back way; by the garden door.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> How long have you been here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Just come before you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> O, then all's well. For, to tell you true,
+Pug, I had a kind of villainous apprehension that
+you had been here longer: but whatever thou sayest
+is an oracle, sweet Pug, and I am satisfied.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] How infinitely she gulls him! and
+he so stupid not to find it! [<span class="sdm">To her.</span>] If he be still
+within, madam, (you know my meaning?) here's
+Bilbo ready to forbid your keeper entrance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Woodall must have told him of
+our appointment.&mdash;What think you of walking
+down, Mr Limberham?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I'll but visit the chamber a little first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> What new maggot's this? you dare not,
+sure, be jealous!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> No, I protest, sweet Pug, I am not: only
+to satisfy my curiosity; that's but reasonable, you
+know.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Come, what foolish curiosity?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You must know, Pug, I was going but just
+now, in obedience to your commands, to enquire
+of the health and safety of your jewels, and my
+brother Brainsick most barbarously forbade me entrance:&mdash;nay,
+<span class="pgnm">101</span><a id="page_101" name="page_101"></a>
+I dare accuse you, when Pug's by to
+back me;&mdash;but now I am resolved I will go see them,
+or somebody shall smoke for it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> But I resolve you shall not. If she pleases
+to command my person, I can comply with the obligation
+of a cavalier.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> But what reason had you to forbid him,
+then, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Ay, what reason had you to forbid me,
+then, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> 'Twas only my caprichio, madam.&mdash;Now
+must I seem ignorant of what she knows full well.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> We'll enquire the cause at better leisure;
+come down, Mr Limberham.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, if it were only his caprichio, I am
+satisfied; though I must tell you, I was in a kind
+of huff, to hear him <i>Tan ta ra, tan ta ra,</i> a quarter
+of an hour together; for <i>Tan ta ra</i> is but an odd
+kind of sound, you know, before a man's chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pleasance.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Judith has assured me, he must
+be there; and, I am resolved, I'll satisfy my revenge
+at any rate upon my rivals.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Mrs Pleasance is come to call us: pray let
+us go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Oh dear, Mr Limberham, I have had the
+dreadfullest dream to-night, and am come to tell it
+you: I dreamed you left your mistress's jewels in
+your chamber, and the door open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> In good time be it spoken; and so I did,
+Mrs Pleasance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> And that a great swinging thief came in,
+and whipt them out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Marry, heaven forbid!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> This is ridiculous: I'll speak to your mother,
+<span class="pgnm">102</span><a id="page_102" name="page_102"></a>
+madam, not to suffer you to eat such heavy
+suppers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, that's very true; for, you may remember
+she fed very much upon larks and pigeons;
+and they are very heavy meat, as Pug says.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> The jewels are all safe; I looked on them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Will you never stand corrected, Mrs Pleasance?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Not by you; correct your matrimony.&mdash;And
+methought, of a sudden this thief was turned
+to Mr Woodall; and that, hearing Mr Limberham
+come, he slipt for fear into the closet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I looked all over it; I'm sure he is not
+there.&mdash;Come away, dear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What, I think you are in a dream too,
+brother Limberham.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> If her dream should come out now! 'tis
+good to be sure, however.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> You are sure; have not I said it?&mdash;You had
+best make Mr Woodall a thief, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> I make him nothing, madam: but the
+thief in my dream was like Mr Woodall; and that
+thief may have made Mr Limberham something.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, Mr Woodall is no thief, that's certain;
+but if a thief should be turned to Mr Woodall,
+that may be something.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Then I'll fetch out the jewels: will that
+satisfy you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> That shall satisfy him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, that shall satisfy me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Then you are a predestinated fool, and
+somewhat worse, that shall be nameless. Do you
+not see how grossly she abuses you? my life on't,
+there's somebody within, and she knows it; otherwise
+she would suffer you to bring out the jewels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, I am no predestinated fool; and therefore,
+Pug, give way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">103</span><a id="page_103" name="page_103"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I will not satisfy your humour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Then I will satisfy it myself: for my generous
+blood is up, and I'll force my entrance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Here's Bilbo, then, shall bar you; atoms
+are not so small, as I will slice the slave. Ha!
+fate and furies!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Ay, for all your fate and furies, I charge
+you, in his majesty's name, to keep the peace: now,
+disobey authority, if you dare.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Fear him not, sweet Mr Brainsick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> to <i>Brain.</i> But, if you should hinder him,
+he may trouble you at law, sir, and say you robbed
+him of his jewels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That is well thought on. I will accuse
+him heinously; there&mdash;and therefore fear and
+tremble.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> My allegiance charms me: I acquiesce.
+The occasion is plausible to let him pass.&mdash;Now
+let the burnished beams upon his brow blaze broad,
+for the brand he cast upon the Brainsick.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Dear Mr Limberham, come back, and hear
+me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, I will hear thee, Pug.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Go on; my life for yours, he is there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I am deaf as an adder; I will not hear
+thee, nor have no commiseration.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Struggles from her, and rushes in.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Then I know the worst, and care not.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Limberham</span> comes running out with the
+Jewels, followed by <span class="cnm">Woodall,</span> with his
+Sword drawn.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> O save me, Pug, save me!
+<span class="sdr">[Gets behind her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A slave, to come and interrupt me at my
+devotions! but I will&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Hold, hold, since you are so devout; for
+heaven's sake, hold!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">104</span><a id="page_104" name="page_104"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Nay, monsieur Woodall!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> For my sake, spare him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, for Pug's sake, spare me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I did his chamber the honour, when my
+own was not open, to retire thither; and he to disturb
+me, like a profane rascal as he was.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I believe he had the devil for his
+chaplain, an' a man durst tell him so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What is that you mutter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Nay, nothing; but that I thought you
+had not been so well given. I was only afraid of
+Pug's jewels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What, does he take me for a thief? nay
+then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> O mercy, mercy!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Hold, sir; it was a foolish dream of mine
+that set him on. I dreamt, a thief, who had been
+just reprieved for a former robbery, was venturing
+his neck a minute after in Mr Limberham's closet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Are you thereabouts, i'faith! A pox of
+Artemidorus<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-13">[13]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I have had a dream, too, concerning Mrs
+Brainsick, and perhaps&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mrs Tricksy, a word in private with you,
+by your keeper's leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Yes, sir, you may speak your pleasure to
+her; and, if you have a mind to go to prayers together,
+the closet is open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Trick.</span></span>] You but suspect it at most, and
+cannot prove it: if you value me, you will not engage
+me in a quarrel with her husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">105</span><a id="page_105" name="page_105"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Well, in hope you will love me, I will
+obey.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Now, damsel Tricksy, your dream, your
+dream!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> It was something of a flagelet, that a shepherd
+played upon so sweetly, that three women followed
+him for his music, and still one of them
+snatched it from the other.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I understand her; but I find she
+is bribed to secrecy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> That flagelet was, by interpretation,&mdash;but
+let that pass; and Mr Woodall, there, was the shepherd,
+that played the <i>tan ta ra</i> upon it: but a generous
+heart, like mine, will endure the infamy no longer;
+therefore, Pug, I banish thee for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Then farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Is that all you make of me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I hate to be tormented with your jealous
+humours, and am glad to be rid of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Bear witness, good people, of her ingratitude!
+Nothing vexes me, but that she calls me
+jealous; when I found him as close as a butterfly
+in her closet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> No matter for that; I knew not he was
+there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Would I could believe thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You have both our words for it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Why should you persuade him against his
+will?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Since you won't persuade me, I care not
+much; here are the jewels in my possession, and
+I'll fetch out the settlement immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shewing the Box.</span>] Look you, sir, I'll
+spare your pains; four hundred a-year will serve to
+comfort a poor cast mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> I thought what would come of your devil's
+<i>pater nosters</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">106</span><a id="page_106" name="page_106"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Restore it to him for pity, Woodall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I make him my trustee; he shall not restore
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Here are jewels, that cost me above two
+thousand pounds; a queen might wear them. Behold
+this orient necklace, Pug! 'tis pity any neck
+should touch it, after thine, that pretty neck! but
+oh, 'tis the falsest neck that e'er was hanged in
+pearl.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> 'Twould become your bounty to give it
+her at parting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Never the sooner for your asking. But oh,
+that word parting! can I bear it? if she could find
+in her heart but so much grace, as to acknowledge
+what a traitress she has been, I think, in my conscience
+I could forgive her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Trick.</span> I'll not wrong my innocence so much, nor
+this gentleman's; but, since you have accused us
+falsely, four hundred a-year betwixt us two will
+make us some part of reparation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I answer you not, but with my leg, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] This mads me; but I cannot
+help it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> What, wilt thou kill me, Pug, with thy
+unkindness, when thou knowest I cannot live without
+thee? It goes to my heart, that this wicked
+fellow&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> How's that, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Under the rose, good Mr Woodall; but, I
+speak it with all submission, in the bitterness of
+my spirit, that you, or any man, should have the
+disposing of my four hundred a-year <i>gratis</i>; therefore
+dear Pug, a word in private, with your permission,
+good Mr Woodall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">107</span><a id="page_107" name="page_107"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Alas, I know, by experience, I may safely
+trust my person with you.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Limb.</span> and <span class="cnm">Trick.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aldo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> O, father Aldo, we have wanted you!
+Here has been made the rarest discovery!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> With the most comical catastrophe!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Happily arrived, i'faith, my old sub-fornicator;
+I have been taken up on suspicion here with
+Mrs Tricksy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> To be taken, to be seen! Before George,
+that's a point next the worst, son Woodall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Truth is, I wanted thy assistance, old Methusalem;
+but, my comfort is, I fell greatly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well, young Phæton, that's somewhat yet,
+if you made a blaze at your departure.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Giles,</span> Mrs <span class="cnm">Brainsick,</span> and <span class="cnm">Judith.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Giles.</span> By your leave, gentlemen, I have followed
+an old master of mine these two long hours, and
+had a fair course at him up the street; here he entered,
+I'm sure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Whoop holyday! our trusty and well-beloved
+Giles, most welcome! Now for some news
+of my ungracious son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Giles here! O rogue, rogue!
+Now, would I were safe stowed over head and ears
+in the chest again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Look you now, son Woodall, I told you
+I was not mistaken; my rascal's in town, with a
+vengeance to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Giles.</span> Why, this is he, sir; I thought you had
+known him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Known whom?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Giles.</span> Your son here, my young master.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Do I dote? or art thou drunk, Giles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">108</span><a id="page_108" name="page_108"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Giles.</span> Nay, I am sober enough, I'm sure; I have
+been kept fasting almost these two days.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, 'tis so! I read it in that
+leering look: What a Tartar have I caught!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Woodall his son!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> What, young father Aldo!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now cannot I for shame hold up
+my head, to think what this young rogue is privy
+to!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> The most dumb interview I ever
+saw!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> What, have you beheld the Gorgon's head
+on either side?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Oh, my sins! my sins! and he keeps my
+book of conscience too! He can display them, with
+a witness! Oh, treacherous young devil!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well, the squib's run to the end of
+the line, and now for the cracker: I must bear up.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I must set a face of authority on the matter,
+for my credit.&mdash;Pray, who am I? do you
+know me, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Yes, I think I should partly know you,
+sir: You may remember some private passages betwixt
+us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I thought as much; he has me already!&mdash;But
+pray, sir, why this ceremony amongst
+friends? Put on, put on; and let us hear what news
+from France. Have you heard lately from my son?
+does he continue still the most hopeful and esteemed
+young gentleman in Paris? does he manage his allowance
+with the same discretion? and, lastly, has
+he still the same respect and duty for his good old
+father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Faith, sir, I have been too long from my
+catechism, to answer so many questions; but, suppose
+there be no news of your <i>quondam</i> son, you
+may comfort up your heart for such a loss; father
+<span class="pgnm">109</span><a id="page_109" name="page_109"></a>
+Aldo has a numerous progeny about the town,
+heaven bless them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> It is very well, sir; I find you have been
+searching for your relations, then, in Whetstone's
+Park<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_3-14">[14]</a>!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> No, sir; I made some scruple of going to
+the foresaid place, for fear of meeting my own father
+there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, I could find in my heart to
+disinherit thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Sure you cannot be so unnatural.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I am sure I am no bastard; witness one
+good quality I have. If any of your children have a
+stronger tang of the father in them, I am content
+to be disowned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well, from this time forward, I pronounce
+thee&mdash;no son of mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Then you desire I should proceed to justify
+I am lawfully begotten? The evidence is ready,
+sir; and, if you please, I shall relate, before this honourable
+assembly, those excellent lessons of morality
+you gave me at our first acquaintance. As, in
+the first place&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Hold, hold; I charge thee hold, on thy
+obedience. I forgive thee heartily: I have proof
+enough thou art my son; but tame thee that can,
+thou art a mad one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Why this is as it should be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> [<span class="sdm">To him.</span>] Not a word of any passages betwixt
+us; it is enough we know each other; hereafter
+<span class="pgnm">110</span><a id="page_110" name="page_110"></a>
+we will banish all pomp and ceremony, and
+live familiarly together. I'll be Pylades, and thou
+mad Orestes, and we will divide the estate betwixt
+us, and have fresh wenches, and <i>ballum rankum</i>
+every night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A match, i'faith: and let the world pass.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> But hold a little; I had forgot one point:
+I hope you are not married, nor engaged?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> To nothing but my pleasures, I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> A mingle of profit would do well though.
+Come, here is a girl; look well upon her; it is a
+mettled toad, I can tell you that: She will make
+notable work betwixt two sheets, in a lawful way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> What, my old enemy, Mrs Pleasance!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> Marry Mrs Saintly's daughter!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> The truth is, she has past for her daughter,
+by my appointment; but she has as good blood
+running in her veins, as the best of you. Her father,
+Mr Palms, on his death-bed, left her to my care and
+disposal, besides a fortune of twelve hundred a
+year; a pretty convenience, by my faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Beyond my hopes, if she consent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> I have taken some care of her education,
+and placed her here with Mrs Saintly, as her daughter,
+to avoid her being blown upon by fops, and
+younger brothers. So now, son, I hope I have
+matched your concealment with my discovery;
+there is hit for hit, ere I cross the cudgels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> You will not take them up, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> I dare not against you, madam: I am
+sure you will worst me at all weapons. All I can
+say is, I do not now begin to love you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Let me speak for thee: Thou shalt be used,
+little Pleasance, like a sovereign princess: Thou
+shalt not touch a bit of butchers' meat in a twelve-month;
+and thou shall be treated&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">111</span><a id="page_111" name="page_111"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Not with <i>ballum rankum</i> every night, I
+hope!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Well, thou art a wag; no more of that.
+Thou shall want neither man's meat, nor woman's
+meat, as far as his provision will hold out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> But I fear he is so horribly given to go a
+house-warming abroad, that the least part of the provision
+will come to my share at home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> You will find me so much employment in
+my own family, that I shall have little need to look
+out for journey-work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> Before George, he shall do thee reason, ere
+thou sleepest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> No; he shall have an honourable truce for
+one day at least; for it is not fair to put a fresh
+enemy upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mrs Brain.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Pleas.</span></span>] I beseech you, madam,
+discover nothing betwixt him and me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">To her.</span>] I am contented to cancel the
+old score; but take heed of bringing me an after-reckoning.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gervase,</span> leading <span class="cnm">Saintly.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Save you, gentlemen; and you, my <i>quondam</i>
+master: You are welcome all, as I may say.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> How now, sirrah? what is the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Give good words, while you live, sir; your
+landlord, and Mr Saintly, if you please.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Oh, I understand the business; he is married
+to the widow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Saint.</span> Verily the good work is accomplished.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> But, why Mr Saintly?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> When a man is married to his betters, it
+is but decency to take her name. A pretty house, a
+pretty situation, and prettily furnished! I have been
+unlawfully labouring at hard duty; but a parson has
+soldered up the matter: Thank your worship, Mr
+<span class="pgnm">112</span><a id="page_112" name="page_112"></a>
+Woodall&mdash;How? Giles here!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> This business is out, and I am now Aldo.
+My father has forgiven me, and we are friends.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> When will Giles, with his honesty, come
+to this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Nay, do not insult too much, good Mr
+Saintly: Thou wert but my deputy; thou knowest
+the widow intended it to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> But I am satisfied she performed it with
+me, sir. Well, there is much good will in these precise
+old women; they are the most zealous bed-fellows!
+Look, an' she does not blush now! you
+see there is grace in her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Mr Limberham, where are you? Come,
+cheer up, man! How go matters on your side of the
+country? Cry him, Gervase.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gerv.</span> Mr Limberham, Mr Limberham, make
+your appearance in the court, and save your recognizance.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Limberham</span> and <span class="cnm">Tricksy.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Sir, I should now make a speech to you
+in my own defence; but the short of all is this:
+If you can forgive what is past, your hand, and
+I'll endeavour to make up the breach betwixt you
+and your mistress: If not, I am ready to give you
+the satisfaction of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> Sir, I am a peaceable man, and a good
+Christian, though I say it, and desire no satisfaction
+from any man. Pug and I are partly agreed upon
+the point already; and therefore lay thy hand upon
+thy heart, Pug, and, if thou canst, from the bottom
+of thy soul, defy mankind, naming no body, I'll forgive
+thy past enormities; and, to give good example
+to all Christian keepers, will take thee to be my
+wedded wife; and thy four hundred a-year shall
+be settled upon thee, for separate maintenance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">113</span><a id="page_113" name="page_113"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Trick.</span> Why, now I can consent with honour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aldo.</span> This is the first business that was ever made
+up without me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> Give you joy, Mr Bridegroom.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Limb.</span> You may spare your breath, sir, if you
+please; I desire none from you. It is true, I am
+satisfied of her virtue, in spite of slander; but, to
+silence calumny, I shall civilly desire you henceforth,
+not to make a chapel-of-ease of Pug's closet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I'll take care of false worship, I'll
+warrant him. He shall have no more to do with
+Bel and the Dragon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Brain.</span> Come hither, wedlock, and let me seal
+my lasting love upon thy lips. Saintly has been seduced,
+and so has Tricksy; but thou alone art kind
+and constant. Hitherto I have not valued modesty,
+according to its merit; but hereafter, Memphis shall
+not boast a monument more firm than my affection.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> A most excellent reformation, and at a
+most seasonable time! The moral of it is pleasant,
+if well considered. Now, let us to dinner.&mdash;Mrs
+Saintly, lead the way, as becomes you, in your own
+house.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[The rest going off.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pleas.</span> Your hand, sweet moiety.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wood.</span> And heart too, my comfortable importance.<br />
+<span class="i1">Mistress and wife, by turns, I have possessed:</span><br />
+<span class="i1">He, who enjoys them both in one, is blessed.</span>
+</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-1" name="Limbe_3-1"></a>The Mahommedan doctrine of predestination is well known.
+They reconcile themselves to all dispensations, by saying, "They
+are written on the forehead" of him, to whose lot they have fallen.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-2" name="Limbe_3-2"></a>The custom of drinking <i>supernaculum</i>, consisted in turning
+down the cup upon the thumb-nail of the drinker after his pledge,
+when, if duly quaffed off, no drop of liquor ought to appear upon
+his nail.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>With that she set it to her nose,</p>
+<p>And off at once the rumkin goes;</p>
+<p>No drops beside her muzzle falling,</p>
+<p>Until that she had supped it all in:</p>
+<p>Then turning't topsey on her thumb,</p>
+<p>Says&mdash;look, here's <i>supernaculum.</i></p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Cotton's Virgil travestie.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>This custom seems to have been derived from the Germans, who
+held, that if a drop appeared on the thumb, it presaged grief and
+misfortune to the person whose health was drunk.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-3" name="Limbe_3-3"></a>This piece of dirty gallantry seems to have been fashionable:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Come, Phyllis, thy finger, to begin the go round;</p>
+<p>How the glass in thy hand with charms does abound!</p>
+<p>You and the wine to each other lend arms,</p>
+<p class="i3">And I find that my love</p>
+<p class="i3">Does for either improve,</p>
+<p>For that does redouble, as you double your charms.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-4" name="Limbe_3-4"></a>Dapper, a silly character in Jonson's Alchemist, tricked by an
+astrologer, who persuades him the queen of fairies is his aunt.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-5" name="Limbe_3-5"></a>The mask, introduced in the first act of the Maid's Tragedy,
+ends with the following dialogue betwixt Cinthia and Night:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cinthia</span> Whip up thy team,<br />
+The day breaks here, and yon sun-flaring beam<br />
+Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go?<br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Night.</span> I'll vanish into mists.<br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cinthia.</span> I into day.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-6" name="Limbe_3-6"></a>In spring 1677, whilst the treaty of Nimeguen was under
+discussion, the French took the three important frontier towns,
+Valenciennes, St Omer, and Cambray. The Spaniards seemed,
+with the most passive infatuation, to have left the defence of
+Flanders to the Prince of Orange and the Dutch.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-7" name="Limbe_3-7"></a>Alluding to the imaginary history of Pine, a merchant's clerk,
+who, being wrecked on a desert island in the South Seas, bestowed
+on it his own name, and peopled it by the assistance of his
+master's daughter and her two maid servants, who had escaped
+from the wreck by his aid.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-8" name="Limbe_3-8"></a>Sulli, the famous composer.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-9" name="Limbe_3-9"></a>It would seem that about this time the French were adopting
+their present mode of pronunciation, so capriciously distinct from
+the orthography.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-10" name="Limbe_3-10"></a>"Queen Dido, or the wandering Prince of Troy," an old ballad,
+printed in the "Reliques of Ancient Poetry," in which the ghost
+of queen Dido thus addresses the perfidious &AElig;neas:
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Therefore prepare thy flitting soul,</p>
+<p class="i1">To wander with me in the air;</p>
+<p>When deadly grief shall make it howl,</p>
+<p class="i1">Because of me thou took'st no care.</p>
+<p>Delay not time, thy glass is run,</p>
+<p class="i1">Thy date is past, thy life is done.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-11" name="Limbe_3-11"></a><i>Pricking</i>, in hare-hunting, is tracking the foot of the game by
+the eye, when the scent is lost.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-12" name="Limbe_3-12"></a>The facetious Tom Brown, in his 2d dialogue on Mr Bayes'
+changing his religion, introduces our poet saying,
+
+<p>"Likewise he (Cleveland) having the misfortune to call that
+domestic animal a cock,</p>
+
+<p class="i1">The Baron Tell-clock of the night,</p>
+
+<p>I could never, igad, as I came home from the tavern, meet a
+watchman or so, but I presently asked him, 'Baron Tell-clock of
+the night, pr'ythee how goes the time?"</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-13" name="Limbe_3-13"></a>Artemidorus, the sophist of Cnidos, was the soothsayer who
+prophesied the death of Cæsar. Shakespeare has introduced him
+in his tragedy of "Julius Cæsar."</li>
+
+<li><a id="Limbe_3-14" name="Limbe_3-14"></a>A common rendezvous of the rakes and bullies of the time;
+"For when they expected the most polished hero in Nemours, I
+gave them a ruffian reeking from Whetstone's Park." Dedication
+to Lee's "Princess of Cleves." In his translation of Ovid's "Love
+Elegies," Lib. II, Eleg. XIX. Dryden mentions, "an easy Whetstone
+whore."</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">114</span><a id="page_114" name="page_114"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.<br />
+SPOKEN BY LIMBERHAM.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>I beg a boon, that, ere you all disband,</p>
+<p>Some one would take my bargain off my hand:</p>
+<p>To keep a punk is but a common evil;</p>
+<p>To find her false, and marry,&mdash;that's the devil.</p>
+<p>Well, I ne'er acted part in all my life,</p>
+<p>But still I was fobbed off with some such wife.</p>
+<p>I find the trick; these poets take no pity</p>
+<p>Of one that is a member of the city.</p>
+<p>We cheat you lawfully, and in our trades;</p>
+<p>You cheat us basely with your common jades.</p>
+<p>Now I am married, I must sit down by it;</p>
+<p>But let me keep my dear-bought spouse in quiet.</p>
+<p>Let none of you damned Woodalls of the pit,</p>
+<p>Put in for shares to mend our breed in wit;</p>
+<p>We know your bastards from our flesh and blood,</p>
+<p>Not one in ten of yours e'er comes to good.</p>
+<p>In all the boys, their fathers' virtues shine,</p>
+<p>But all the female fry turn Pugs&mdash;like mine.</p>
+<p>When these grow up, Lord, with what rampant gadders</p>
+<p>Our counters will be thronged, and roads with padders!</p>
+<p>This town two bargains has, not worth one farthing,&mdash;</p>
+<p>A Smithfield horse, and wife of Covent-Garden<a class="ftnt" href="#Limbe_4-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Limbe_4-1" name="Limbe_4-1"></a>Alluding to an old proverb, that whoso goes to Westminster for a wife,
+to St Paul's for a man, and to Smithfield for a horse, may meet with a whore,
+a knave, and a jade. Falstaff, on being informed that Bardolph is gone to
+Smithfield to buy him a horse, observes, "I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy
+me a horse in Smithfield; an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were
+manned, horsed, and wived." <i>Second Part of Henry IV.</i> Act I. Scene II.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><span class="pgnm">115</span><a id="page_115" name="page_115"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">&OElig;DIPUS.</h2>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+TRAGEDY.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram"><i>Hi proprium decus et partum indignantur honorem,<br />
+Ni teneant</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Virg.</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+<table class="ctr" summary="epigram">
+<tr><td><p><i>Vos exemplaria Græca<br />
+Nocturn&acirc; versate manu, versate diurn&acirc;.</i></p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Horat.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">116</span><a id="page_116" name="page_116"></a></div>
+<div>[Blank Page]</div>
+<div><span class="pgnm">117</span><a id="page_117" name="page_117"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">&OElig;DIPUS.</h3>
+
+<p>The dreadful subject of this piece has been celebrated by several
+ancient and modern dramatists. Of seven tragedies of Sophocles
+which have reached our times, two are founded on the history
+of &OElig;dipus. The first of these, called "&OElig;dipus Tyrannus," has
+been extolled by every critic since the days of Aristotle, for the
+unparalleled art with which the story is managed. The dreadful
+secret, the existence of which is announced by the pestilence, and
+by the wrath of the offended deities, seems each moment on the
+verge of being explained, yet, till the last act, the reader is still
+held in horrible suspense. Every circumstance, resorted to for the
+purpose of evincing the falsehood of the oracle, tends gradually
+to confirm the guilt of &OElig;dipus, and to accelerate the catastrophe;
+while his own supposed consciousness of innocence, at once
+interests us in his favour, and precipitates the horrible discovery.
+Dryden, who arranged the whole plan of the following
+tragedy, although assisted by Lee in the execution, was fully
+aware of the merit of the "&OElig;dipus Tyrannus;" and, with the
+addition of the under-plot of Adrastus and Eurydice, has traced out
+the events of the drama, in close imitation of Sophocles. The
+Grecian bard, however, in concurrence with the history or tradition
+of Greece, has made &OElig;dipus survive the discovery of his unintentional
+guilt, and reserved him, in blindness and banishment,
+for the subject of his second tragedy of "&OElig;dipus Coloneus." This
+may have been well judged, considering that the audience were
+intimately acquainted with the important scenes which were to
+follow among the descendants of &OElig;dipus, with the first and second
+wars against Thebes, and her final conquest by the ancestors
+of those Athenians, before whom the play was rehearsed, led
+on by their demi-god Theseus. They were also prepared to receive,
+with reverence and faith, the belief on which the whole interest
+turns, that if &OElig;dipus should be restored to Thebes, the vengeance
+of the gods against the devoted city might be averted; and to applaud
+his determination to remain on Athenian ground, that the predestined
+curse might descend on his unnatural sons and ungrateful
+country. But while the modern reader admires the lofty tone of poetry
+and high strain of morality which pervades "&OElig;dipus Coloneus,"
+it must appear more natural to his feelings, that the life of
+<span class="pgnm">118</span><a id="page_118" name="page_118"></a>
+the hero, stained with unintentional incest and parricide, should
+be terminated, as in Dryden's play, upon the discovery of his complicated
+guilt and wretchedness. Yet there is something awful in the
+idea of the monarch, blind and exiled, innocent in intention, though
+so horribly criminal in fact, devoted, as it were, to the infernal deities,
+and sacred from human power and violence by the very excess
+of his guilt and misery. The account of the death of &OElig;dipus Coloneus
+reaches the highest tone of sublimity. While the lightning
+flashes around him, he expresses the feeling, that his hour is come;
+and the reader anticipates, that, like Malefort in the "Unnatural
+Combat," he is to perish by a thunder-bolt. Yet, for the awful
+catastrophe, which we are artfully led to expect, is substituted a
+mysterious termination, still more awful. &OElig;dipus arrays himself
+in splendid apparel, and dismisses his daughters and the attending
+Athenians. Theseus alone remains with him. The storm subsides,
+and the attendants return to the place, but &OElig;dipus is there
+no longer&mdash;he had not perished by water, by sword, nor by fire&mdash;no
+one but Theseus knew the manner of his death. With an impressive
+hint, that it was as strange and wonderful as his life had been
+dismally eventful, the poet drops a curtain over the fate of his
+hero. This last sublime scene Dryden has not ventured to imitate;
+and the rants of Lee are a poor substitute for the calm and
+determined despair of the "&OElig;dipus Coloneus."</p>
+
+<p>Seneca, perhaps to check the seeds of vice in Nero, his pupil,
+to whom incest and blood were afterwards so familiar<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_1-1">[1]</a>, composed
+the Latin tragedy on the subject of &OElig;dipus, which is alluded to by
+Dryden in the following preface. The cold declamatory rhetorical
+stile of that philosopher was adapted precisely to counteract
+the effect, which a tale of terror produces on the feelings and
+imagination. His taste exerted itself in filling up and garnishing
+the more trifling passages, which Sophocles had passed over as unworthy
+of notice, and in adjusting incidents laid in the heroic age
+of Grecian simplicity, according to the taste and customs of the
+court of Nero<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_1-2">[2]</a>. Yet though devoid of dramatic effect, of
+fancy, and of genius, the &OElig;dipus of Seneca displays the masculine
+eloquence and high moral sentiment of its author; and if
+it does not interest us in the scene of fiction, it often compels us
+to turn our thoughts inward, and to study our own hearts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pgnm">119</span><a id="page_119" name="page_119"></a>
+The &OElig;dipe of Corneille is in all respects unworthy of its great
+author. The poet considering, as he states in his introduction,
+that the subject of &OElig;dipus tearing out his eyes was too horrible
+to be presented before ladies, qualifies its terrors by the introduction
+of a love intrigue betwixt Theseus and Dirce. The unhappy
+propensity of the French poets to introduce long discussions upon
+<i>la belle passion</i>, addressed merely to the understanding, without
+respect to feeling or propriety, is nowhere more ridiculously displayed
+than in "&OElig;dipe." The play opens with the following polite
+speech of Theseus to Dirce:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>N'ecoutez plus, madame, une pitie cruelle,</p>
+<p>Qui d'un fidel amant vous ferait un rebelle:</p>
+<p>La gloire d'obeir n'a rien que me soit doux,</p>
+<p>Lorsque vous m'ordonnez de m'eloigner de vous.</p>
+<p>Quelque ravage affreux qu'etale ici la peste,</p>
+<p>L'absence aux vrais amans est encore plus funeste;</p>
+<p>Et d'un si grand peril l'image s'offre en vain,</p>
+<p>Quand ce peril douteux epargne un mal certain.</p>
+<p class="citation" style="font-style: normal;">Act premiere, Scene premiere.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is hardly possible more prettily to jingle upon the <i>peril douteux</i>,
+and the <i>mal certain</i>; but this is rather an awkward way of introducing
+the account of the pestilence, with which all the other
+dramatists have opened their scene. &OElig;dipus, however, is at once
+sensible of the cause which detained Theseus at his melancholy
+court, amidst the horrors of the plague:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p><i>Je l'avais bien juge qu'</i> un interet d'amour</p>
+<p><i>Fermait ici vos yeux aux perils de ma cour.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind"><i>&OElig;dipo conjectere opus est</i>&mdash;it would have been difficult for any
+other person to have divined such a motive. The conduct of the
+drama is exactly suitable to its commencement; the fate of &OElig;dipus
+and of Thebes, the ravages of the pestilence, and the avenging
+of the death of Laius, are all secondary and subordinate considerations
+to the loves of Theseus and Dirce, as flat and uninteresting
+a pair as ever spoke <i>platitudes</i> in French hexameters.
+So much is this the engrossing subject of the drama, that &OElig;dipus,
+at the very moment when Tiresias is supposed to be engaged in
+raising the ghost of Laius, occupies himself in a long scene of
+scolding about love and duty with Dirce; and it is not till he is
+almost bullied by her off the stage, that he suddenly recollects,
+as an apology for his retreat,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Mais il faut aller voir ce qu'a fait Tiresias.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Considering, however, the declamatory nature of the French
+dialogue, and the peremptory rule of their drama, that love, or
+rather gallantry, must be the moving principle of every performance,
+<span class="pgnm">120</span><a id="page_120" name="page_120"></a>
+it is more astonishing that Corneille should have chosen so masculine
+and agitating a subject, than that he should have failed in
+treating it with propriety or success.</p>
+
+<p>In the following tragedy, Dryden has avowedly adopted the
+Greek model; qualified, however, by the under plot of Adrastus
+and Eurydice, which contributes little either to the effect or merit
+of the play. Creon, in his ambition and his deformity, is a poor
+copy of Richard III., without his abilities; his plots and treasons
+are baffled by the single appearance of &OElig;dipus; and as for the
+loves and woes of Eurydice, and the prince of Argos, they are lost
+in the horrors of the principal story, like the moonlight amid the
+glare of a conflagration. In other respects, the conduct of the
+piece closely follows the "&OElig;dipus Tyrannus," and, in some respects,
+even improves on that excellent model. The Tiresias of Sophocles,
+for example, upon his first introduction, denounces &OElig;dipus as
+the slayer of Laius, braves his resentment, and prophesies his miserable
+catastrophe. In Dryden's play, the first anathema of the
+prophet is levelled only against the unknown murderer; and it is
+not till the powers of hell have been invoked, that even the eye
+of the prophet can penetrate the horrible veil, and fix the guilt
+decisively upon &OElig;dipus. By this means, the striking quarrel betwixt
+the monarch and Tiresias is, with great art, postponed to
+the third act; and the interest, of course, is more gradually heightened
+than in the Grecian tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>The first and third acts, which were wholly written by Dryden,
+maintain a decided superiority over the rest of the piece. Yet
+there are many excellent passages scattered through Lee's scenes;
+and as the whole was probably corrected by Dryden, the tragedy
+has the appearance of general consistence and uniformity. There
+are several scenes, in which Dryden seems to have indulged his
+newly adopted desire of imitating the stile of Shakespeare. Such
+are, in particular, the scene of &OElig;dipus walking in his sleep,
+which bears marks of Dryden's pen; and such, also, is the incantation
+in the third act. Seneca and Corneille have thrown this
+last scene into narrative. Yet, by the present large size of our
+stages, and the complete management of light and shade, the incantation
+might be represented with striking effect; an advantage
+which, I fear, has been gained by the sacrifice of others, much
+more essential to the drama, considered as a dignified and rational
+amusement. The incantation itself is nobly written, and
+the ghost of Laius can only be paralleled in Shakespeare.</p>
+
+<p>The language of &OElig;dipus is, in general, nervous, pure, and elegant;
+and the dialogue, though in so high a tone of passion, is
+natural and affecting. Some of Lee's extravagancies are lamentable
+exceptions to this observation. This may be instanced in the
+passage, where Jocasta threatens to fire Olympus, destroy the heavenly
+<span class="pgnm">121</span><a id="page_121" name="page_121"></a>
+furniture, and smoke the deities <i>like bees out of their ambrosial
+hives</i>; and such is the still more noted wish of &OElig;dipus;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,</p>
+<p>May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,</p>
+<p>But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark!</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>These blemishes, however, are entitled to some indulgence from
+the reader, when they occur in a work of real genius. Those, who
+do not strive at excellence, will seldom fall into absurdity; as he,
+who is contented to walk, is little liable to stumble.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the admirable disposition of the parts of this
+play, the gradual increase of the interest, and the strong impassioned
+language of the dialogue, the disagreeable nature of the
+plot forms an objection to its success upon a British stage. Distress,
+which turns upon the involutions of unnatural or incestuous
+passion, carries with it something too disgusting for the sympathy
+of a refined age; whereas, in a simple state of society, the feelings
+require a more powerful stimulus; as we see the vulgar crowd
+round an object of real horror, with the same pleasure we reap
+from seeing it represented on a theatre. Besides, in ancient times,
+in those of the Roman empire at least, such abominations really
+occurred, as sanctioned the story of &OElig;dipus. But the change of
+manners has introduced not only greater purity of moral feeling,
+but a sensibility, which retreats with abhorrence even from a
+fiction turning upon such circumstances. Hence, Garrick, who
+well knew the taste of an English audience, renounced his intention
+of reviving the excellent old play of "King and no King;"
+and hence Massinger's still more awful tragedy of "The Unnatural
+Combat," has been justly deemed unfit for a modern stage.
+Independent of this disgusting circumstance, it may be questioned
+Whether the horror of this tragedy is not too powerful for
+furnishing mere amusement? It is said in the "Companion to the
+Playhouse," that when the piece was performing at Dublin, a musician,
+in the orchestra, was so powerfully affected by the madness
+of &OElig;dipus, as to become himself actually delirious: and though
+this may be exaggerated, it is certain, that, when the play was revived
+about thirty years ago, the audience were unable to support
+it to an end; the boxes being all emptied before the third act was
+concluded. Among all our English plays, there is none more determinedly
+bloody than "&OElig;dipus," in its progress and conclusion.
+The entrance of the unfortunate king, with his eyes torn from
+their sockets, is too disgusting for representation<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_1-3">[3]</a>. Of all the
+<span class="pgnm">122</span><a id="page_122" name="page_122"></a>
+persons of the drama, scarce one survives the fifth act. &OElig;dipus
+dashes out his brains, Jocasta stabs herself, their children are
+strangled, Creon kills Eurydice, Adrastus kills Creon, and the
+insurgents kill Adrastus; when we add to this, that the conspirators
+are hanged, the reader will perceive, that the play, which
+began with a pestilence, concludes with a massacre,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>And darkness is the burier of the dead.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another objection to &OElig;dipus has been derived from the doctrine
+of fatalism, inculcated by the story. There is something of
+cant in talking much upon the influence of a theatre on public
+morals; yet, I fear, though the most moral plays are incapable
+of doing much good, the turn of others may make a mischievous
+impression, by embodying in verse, and rendering apt for the memory,
+maxims of an impious or profligate tendency. In this
+point of view, there is, at least, no edification in beholding the horrible
+crimes unto which &OElig;dipus is unwillingly plunged, and in
+witnessing the dreadful punishment he sustains, though innocent
+of all moral or intentional guilt, Corneille has endeavoured to
+counterbalance the obvious conclusion, by a long tirade upon free-will,
+which I have subjoined, as it contains some striking ideas.<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_1-4">[4]</a>
+But the doctrine, which it expresses, is contradictory of the whole
+<span class="pgnm">123</span><a id="page_123" name="page_123"></a>
+tenor of the story; and the correct deduction is much more justly
+summed up by Seneca, in the stoical maxim of necessity:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Fatis agimur, cedite Fatis;</p>
+<p>Non solicitæ possunt curæ,</p>
+<p>Mutare rati stamina fusi;</p>
+<p>Quicquid patimur mortale genus,</p>
+<p>Quicquid facimus venit ex alto;</p>
+<p>Servatque sua decreta colus,</p>
+<p>Lachesis dura revoluta manu.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Some degree of poetical justice might have been preserved, and
+a valuable moral inculcated, had the conduct of &OElig;dipus, in his
+combat with Laius, been represented as atrocious, or, at least, unwarrantable;
+as the sequel would then have been a warning, how
+impossible it is to calculate the consequences or extent of a single
+act of guilt. But, after all, Dryden perhaps extracts the true
+moral, while stating our insufficiency to estimate the distribution
+of good and evil in human life, in a passage, which, in excellent
+poetry, expresses more sound truth, than a whole shelf of philosophers:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>The Gods are just&mdash;</p>
+<p>But how can finite measure infinite?</p>
+<p>Reason! alas, it does not know itself!</p>
+<p>Yet man, vain man, would, with this, short-lined plummet,</p>
+<p>Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.</p>
+<p>Whatever is, is in its causes just,</p>
+<p>Since all things are by fate. But purblind man</p>
+<p>Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;</p>
+<p>His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,</p>
+<p>That poises all above.&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The prologue states, that the play, if damned, may be recorded
+as the "first buried since the Woollen Act." This enables us to
+fix the date of the performance. By the 30th Charles II. cap.
+3. all persons were appointed to be buried in woollen after 1st
+August, 1678. The play must therefore have been represented
+early in the season 1678-9. It was not printed until 1679.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="OEdip_1-1" name="OEdip_1-"></a>Nero is said to have represented the character of &OElig;dipus, amongst others
+of the same horrible cast.&mdash;<i>Suetonius,</i> Lib. VI. Cap. 21.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_1-2" name="OEdip_1-"></a>Thus Seneca is justly ridiculed by Dacier, for sending Laius forth with
+a numerous party of guards, to avoid the indecorum of a king going abroad
+too slenderly attended. The guards lose their way within a league of their
+master's capital; and, by this awkward contrivance, their absence is accounted
+for, when he is met by &OElig;dipus.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_1-3" name="OEdip_1-"></a>Voltaire, however, held a different opinion. He thought a powerful
+effect might be produced by the exhibition of the blind king, indistinctly seen in
+the back ground, amid the shrieks of Jocasta, and the exclamations of the
+Thebans; provided the actor was capable of powerful gesture, and of expressing
+much passion, with little declamation.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_1-4" name="OEdip_1-"></a><div class="poem pi">
+<p>Quoi! la necessite des vertus et des vices</p>
+<p>D'un astre imperieux doit suivre les caprices?</p>
+<p>Et Delphes malgré nous conduit nos actions</p>
+<p>Au plus bizarre effet de ses predictions?</p>
+<p>L'ame est donc toute esclave; une loi soveraine</p>
+<p>Vers le bien ou le mal incessamment l'entraine;</p>
+<p>Et nous recevons ni crainte ni desir,</p>
+<p>De cette liberté qui n'a rien a choisir;</p>
+<p>Attachés sans relache &aacute; cet ordre sublime,</p>
+<p>Vertueux sans merite, et vicieux sans crime;</p>
+<p>Qu'on massare les rois, qu'on brise les autels,</p>
+<p>C'est la faute des dieux, et non pas des mortels;</p>
+<p>De toute la vertu sur la terre epandue</p>
+<p>Tout le prix ces dieux, toute la gloire est due;</p>
+<p>Ils agissent en nous, quand nous pensons agir,</p>
+<p>Alons qu'on delibere, on ne fait qu'obeir;</p>
+<p>Et notre volonté n'aime, hait, cherche, evite,</p>
+<p>Que suivant que d'en haut leur bras la precipite!</p>
+<p class="i1">D'un tel aveuglement daignez me dispenser</p>
+<p>Le ciel juste a punir, juste a recompenser,</p>
+<p>Pour rendre aux actions leur peine ou leur salaire,</p>
+<p>Doit nous offrir son aide et puis nous laisser faire.</p>
+</div></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">124</span><a id="page_124" name="page_124"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PREFACE.</h3>
+
+<p>Though it be dangerous to raise too great an expectation,
+especially in works of this nature, where
+we are to please an insatiable audience, yet it is
+reasonable to prepossess them in favour of an author;
+and therefore, both the prologue and epilogue informed
+you, that &OElig;dipus was the most celebrated
+piece of all antiquity; that Sophocles, not only the
+greatest wit, but one of the greatest men in Athens,
+made it for the stage at the public cost; and that it
+had the reputation of being his masterpiece, not
+only among the seven of his which are still remaining,
+but of the greater number which are perished.
+Aristotle has more than once admired it, in his Book
+of Poetry; Horace has mentioned it: Lucullus, Julius
+Cæsar, and other noble Romans, have written on
+the same subject, though their poems are wholly
+lost; but Seneca's is still preserved. In our own
+age, Corneille has attempted it, and, it appears by
+his preface, with great success. But a judicious
+reader will easily observe, how much the copy is
+inferior to the original. He tells you himself, that
+he owes a great part of his success, to the happy
+episode of Theseus and Dirce; which is the same
+thing, as if we should acknowledge, that we were
+<span class="pgnm">125</span><a id="page_125" name="page_125"></a>
+indebted for our good fortune to the under-plot of
+Adrastus, Eurydice, and Creon. The truth is, he
+miserably failed in the character of his hero: If he
+desired that &OElig;dipus should be pitied, he should
+have made him a better man. He forgot, that Sophocles
+had taken care to show him, in his first entrance,
+a just, a merciful, a successful, a religious
+prince, and, in short, a father of his country. Instead
+of these, he has drawn him suspicious, designing,
+more anxious of keeping the Theban crown,
+than solicitous for the safety of his people; hectored
+by Theseus, condemned by Dirce, and scarce maintaining
+a second part in his own tragedy. This was
+an error in the first concoction; and therefore never
+to be mended in the second or the third. He introduced
+a greater hero than &OElig;dipus himself; for when
+Theseus was once there, that companion of Hercules
+must yield to none. The poet was obliged to
+furnish him with business, to make him an equipage
+suitable to his dignity; and, by following him too
+close, to lose his other king of Brentford in the
+crowd. Seneca, on the other side, as if there were
+no such thing as nature to be minded in a play, is
+always running after pompous expression, pointed
+sentences, and philosophical notions, more proper for
+the study than the stage: the Frenchman followed
+a wrong scent; and the Roman was absolutely at
+cold hunting. All we could gather out of Corneille
+was, that an episode must be, but not his way:
+and Seneca supplied us with no new hint, but only
+a relation which he makes of his Tiresias raising the
+ghost of Laius; which is here performed in view of
+the audience,&mdash;the rites and ceremonies, so far his, as
+he agreed with antiquity, and the religion of the
+Greeks. But he himself was beholden to Homer's
+Tiresias, in the "Odysses," for some of them; and the
+rest have been collected from Heliodore's "Ethiopiques,"
+<span class="pgnm">126</span><a id="page_126" name="page_126"></a>
+and Lucan's Erictho<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_2-1">[1]</a>. Sophocles, indeed,
+is admirable everywhere; and therefore we have
+followed him as close as possibly we could. But
+the Athenian theatre, (whether more perfect than
+ours, is not now disputed,) had a perfection differing
+from ours. You see there in every act a single
+scene, (or two at most,) which manage the business
+of the play; and after that succeeds the chorus,
+which commonly takes up more time in singing,
+than there has been employed in speaking. The
+principal person appears almost constantly through
+the play; but the inferior parts seldom above once
+in the whole tragedy. The conduct of our stage is
+much more difficult, where we are obliged never to
+lose any considerable character, which we have once
+presented. Custom likewise has obtained, that we
+must form an under-plot of second persons, which
+must be depending on the first; and their by-walks
+must be like those in a labyrinth, which all of them
+lead into the great parterre; or like so many several
+lodging chambers, which have their outlets into
+the same gallery. Perhaps, after all, if we could
+think so, the ancient method, as it is the easiest, is
+also the most natural, and the best. For variety,
+as it is managed, is too often subject to breed distraction;
+and while we would please too many
+<span class="pgnm">127</span><a id="page_127" name="page_127"></a>
+ways, for want of art in the conduct, we please in
+none<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_2-2">[2]</a>. But we have given you more already than
+was necessary for a preface; and, for aught we know,
+may gain no more by our instructions, than that
+politic nation is like to do, who have taught their
+enemies to fight so long, that at last they are in a
+condition to invade them<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_2-3">[3]</a>.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="OEdip_2-1" name="OEdip_2-1"></a>Heliodorus, bishop of Trica, wrote a romance in Greek, called
+the "Ethiopiques," containing the amours of Theagenes and
+Chariclea. He was so fond of this production, that, the option
+being proposed to him by a synod, he rather chose to resign his
+bishopric than destroy his work. There occurs a scene of incantation
+in this romance. The story of Lucan's witch occurs in
+the sixth book of the Pharsalia.
+
+<p>Dryden has judiciously imitated Seneca, in representing necromancy
+as the last resort of Tiresias, after all milder modes of augury
+had failed.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_2-2" name="OEdip_2-2"></a>It had been much to be wished, that our author had preferred
+his own better judgment, and the simplicity of the Greek plot,
+to compliance with this foolish custom.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_2-3" name="OEdip_2-3"></a>This seems to allude to the French, who, after having repeatedly
+reduced the Dutch to extremity, were about this period defeated
+by the Prince of Orange, in the battle of Mons. See the
+next note.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">128</span><a id="page_128" name="page_128"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>When Athens all the Grecian slate did guide,</p>
+<p>And Greece gave laws to all the world beside;</p>
+<p>Then Sophocles with Socrates did sit,</p>
+<p>Supreme in wisdom one, and one in wit:</p>
+<p>And wit from wisdom differed not in those,</p>
+<p>But as 'twas sung in verse, or said in prose.</p>
+<p>Then, &OElig;dipus, on crowded theatres,</p>
+<p>Drew all admiring eyes and list'ning ears:</p>
+<p>The pleased spectator shouted every line,</p>
+<p>The noblest, manliest, and the best design!</p>
+<p>And every critic of each learned age,</p>
+<p>By this just model has reformed the stage.</p>
+<p>Now, should it fail, (as heaven avert our fear!)</p>
+<p>Damn it in silence, lest the world should hear.</p>
+<p>For were it known this poem did not please,</p>
+<p>You might set up for perfect savages:</p>
+<p>Your neighbours would not look on you as men,</p>
+<p>But think the nation all turned Picts again.</p>
+<p>Faith, as you manage matters, 'tis not fit</p>
+<p>You should suspect yourselves of too much wit:</p>
+<p>Drive not the jest too far, but spare this piece;</p>
+<p>And, for this once, be not more wise than Greece.</p>
+<p>See twice! do not pell-mell to damning fall,</p>
+<p>Like true-born Britons, who ne'er think at all:</p>
+<p>Pray be advised; and though at Mons<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_3-1">[1]</a> you won,</p>
+<p>On pointed cannon do not always run.</p>
+<p><span class="pgnm">129</span><a id="page_129" name="page_129"></a>
+With some respect to ancient wit proceed;</p>
+<p>You take the four first councils for your creed.</p>
+<p>But, when you lay tradition wholly by,</p>
+<p>And on the private spirit alone rely,</p>
+<p>You turn fanatics in your poetry.</p>
+<p>If, notwithstanding all that we can say,</p>
+<p>You needs will have your penn'orths of the play,</p>
+<p>And come resolved to damn, because you pay,</p>
+<p>Record it, in memorial of the fact,</p>
+<p>The first play buried since the woollen act.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="OEdip_3-1" name="OEdip_3-1"></a>On the 17th of August, 1678, the Prince of Orange, afterwards William
+III. marched to the attack of the French army, which blockaded Mons, and
+lay secured by the most formidable entrenchments. Notwithstanding a
+powerful and well-served artillery, the duke of Luxemburgh was forced to
+abandon his trenches, and retire with great loss. The English and Scottish
+regiments, under the gallant earl of Ossory, had their full share in the glory
+of the day. It is strongly suspected, that the Prince of Orange, when he undertook
+this perilous atchievement, knew that a peace had been signed betwixt
+France and the States, though the intelligence was not made public till
+next day. Carleton says, that the troops, when drawn up for the attack, supposed
+the purpose was to fire a <i>feu-de-joie</i> for the conclusion of the war. The
+enterprize, therefore, though successful, was needless as well as desperate,
+and merited Dryden's oblique censure.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">130</span><a id="page_130" name="page_130"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><span class="smcap">&OElig;dipus,</span> <i>King of Thebes.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Adrastus,</span> <i>Prince of Argos.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Creon,</span> <i>Brother to</i> <span class="smcap">Jocasta.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Tiresias,</span> <i>a blind Prophet.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Hæmon,</span> <i>Captain of the Guard.</i></p>
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Alcander, Diocles, Pyracmon">
+<tr>
+<td class="smcap">Alcander,<br />
+Diocles,<br />
+Pyracmon,</td>
+<td>}<br />
+}<br />
+}</td>
+<td>
+<i>Lords of</i> <span class="smcap">Creon's</span> <i>faction.</i>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0;"><span class="smcap">Phorbas,</span> <i>an old Shepherd.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Dymas,</span> <i>the Messenger returned from Delphos.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">&AElig;geon,</span> <i>the Corinthian Embassador.</i><br />
+<i>Ghost of</i> <span class="smcap">Laius,</span> <i>the late King of Thebes.</i></p>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Jocasta,</span> <i>Queen of Thebes.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Eurydice,</span> <i>her Daughter, by</i> <span class="smcap">Laius,</span> <i>her first husband.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Manto,</span> <i>Daughter of</i> <span class="smcap">Tiresias.</span></p>
+
+<p class="noind"><i>Priests, Citizens, Attendants,</i> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p>SCENE&mdash;<i>Thebes.</i></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">131</span><a id="page_131" name="page_131"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">&OElig;DIPUS.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>The Curtain rises to a plaintive Tune,
+representing the present condition of Thebes; dead
+Bodies appear at a distance in the Streets; some
+faintly go over the Stage, others drop.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alcander, Diocles,</span> and <span class="cnm">Pyracmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Methinks we stand on ruins; nature shakes<br />
+About us; and the universal frame<br />
+So loose, that it but wants another push,<br />
+To leap from off its hinges.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> No sun to cheer us; but a bloody globe,<br />
+That rolls above, a bald and beamless fire,<br />
+His face o'er-grown with scurf: The sun's sick, too;<br />
+Shortly he'll be an earth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> Therefore the seasons<br />
+Lie all confused; and, by the heavens neglected,<br />
+Forget themselves: Blind winter meets the summer<br />
+In his mid-way, and, seeing not his livery,<br />
+Has driven him headlong back; and the raw damps,<br />
+With flaggy wings, fly heavily about,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">132</span><a id="page_132" name="page_132"></a>
+Scattering their pestilential colds and rheums<br />
+Through all the lazy air.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Hence murrains followed<br />
+On bleating flocks, and on the lowing herds:<br />
+At last, the malady<br />
+Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog<br />
+Died at his master's feet<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> And next, his master:<br />
+For all those plagues, which earth and air had brooded,<br />
+First on inferior creatures tried their force,<br />
+And last they seized on man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> And then a thousand deaths at once advanced,<br />
+And every dart took place; all was so sudden,<br />
+That scarce a first man fell; one but began<br />
+To wonder, and straight fell a wonder too;<br />
+A third, who stooped to raise his dying friend,<br />
+Dropt in the pious act.&mdash;Heard you that groan?<span class="sdr">[Groan within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> A troop of ghosts took flight together there.<br />
+Now death's grown riotous, and will play no more<br />
+For single stakes, but families and tribes.<br />
+How are we sure we breathe not now our last,<br />
+And that, next minute,<br />
+Our bodies, cast into some common pit,<br />
+Shall not be built upon, and overlaid<br />
+By half a people?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> There's a chain of causes<br />
+Linked to effects; invincible necessity,<br />
+That whate'er is, could not but so have been;<br />
+That's my security.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, enter <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> So had it need, when all our streets lie covered<br />
+<span class="pgnm">133</span><a id="page_133" name="page_133"></a>
+With dead and dying men;<br />
+And earth exposes bodies on the pavements,<br />
+More than she hides in graves.<br />
+Betwixt the bride and bridegroom have I seen<br />
+The nuptial torch do common offices<br />
+Of marriage and of death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Now &OElig;dipus<br />
+(If he return from war, our other plague)<br />
+Will scarce find half he left, to grace his triumphs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> A feeble pæan will be sung before him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> He would do well to bring the wives and children<br />
+Of conquered Argians, to renew his Thebes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> May funerals meet him at the city gates,<br />
+With their detested omen!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Of his children.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Nay, though she be my sister, of his wife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> O that our Thebes might once again behold<br />
+A monarch, Theban born!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> We might have had one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> Yes, had the people pleased.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Come, you are my friends:<br />
+The queen my sister, after Laius' death,<br />
+Feared to lie single; and supplied his place<br />
+With a young successor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> He much resembles<br />
+Her former husband too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> I always thought so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> When twenty winters more have grizzled his black locks,<br />
+He will be very Laius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> So he will.<br />
+Meantime, she stands provided of a Laius,<br />
+More young, and vigorous too, by twenty springs.<br />
+These women are such cunning purveyors!<br />
+Mark, where their appetites have once been pleased,<br />
+The same resemblance, in a younger lover,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">134</span><a id="page_134" name="page_134"></a>
+Lies brooding in their fancies the same pleasures,<br />
+And urges their remembrance to desire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Had merit, not her dotage, been considered;<br />
+Then Creon had been king; but &OElig;dipus,<br />
+A stranger!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> That word, <i>stranger</i>, I confess,<br />
+Sounds harshly in my ears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> We are your creatures.<br />
+The people, prone, as in all general ills,<br />
+To sudden change; the king, in wars abroad;<br />
+The queen, a woman weak and unregarded;<br />
+Eurydice, the daughter of dead Laius,<br />
+A princess young and beauteous, and unmarried,&mdash;<br />
+Methinks, from these disjointed propositions,<br />
+Something might be produced.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> The gods have done<br />
+Their part, by sending this commodious plague.<br />
+But oh, the princess! her hard heart is shut<br />
+By adamantine locks against my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Your claim to her is strong; you are betrothed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> True, in her nonage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> I heard the prince of Argos, young Adrastus,<br />
+When he was hostage here&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes.<br />
+That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms<br />
+Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness,<br />
+To please a woman yet more fool than he.<br />
+That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form.<br />
+And empty noise, and loves itself in man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> But since the war broke out about our frontiers,<br />
+He's now a foe to Thebes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> But is not so to her. See, she appears;<br />
+Once more I'll prove my fortune. You insinuate<br />
+Kind thoughts of me into the multitude;<br />
+Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom;<br />
+And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad,<br />
+As if the breeze had stung them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">135</span><a id="page_135" name="page_135"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> We'll about it.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Alc. Dioc.</span> and <span class="cnm">Pyr.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Eurydice.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice,<br />
+A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born,<br />
+And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven,<br />
+Thou seem'st more heaven's than ours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Cast round your eyes,<br />
+Where late the streets were so thick sown with men,<br />
+Like Cadmus' brood, they jostled for the passage;<br />
+Now look for those erected heads, and see them,<br />
+Like pebbles, paving all our public ways;<br />
+When you have thought on this, then answer me,&mdash;<br />
+If these be hours of courtship?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Yes, they are;<br />
+For when the gods destroy so fast, 'tis time<br />
+We should renew the race.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> What, in the midst of horror?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Why not then?<br />
+There's the more need of comfort.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Impious Creon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me<br />
+Of love, which is heaven's precept, and not fear<br />
+That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes,<br />
+Should reach your perjuries?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Still the old argument.<br />
+I bade you cast your eyes on other men,<br />
+Now cast them on yourself; think what you are.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> A man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> A man!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Why, doubt you I'm a man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> 'Tis well you tell me so; I should mistake you<br />
+For any other part o'the whole creation,<br />
+Rather than think you man. Hence from my sight,<br />
+Thou poison to my eyes!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">136</span><a id="page_136" name="page_136"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Twas you first poisoned mine; and yet, methinks,<br />
+My face and person should not make you sport.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> You force me, by your importunities,<br />
+To shew you what you are.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> A prince, who loves you;<br />
+And, since your pride provokes me, worth your love.<br />
+Even at its highest value.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Love from thee!<br />
+Why love renounced thee ere thou saw'st the light;<br />
+Nature herself start back when thou wert born,<br />
+And cried,&mdash;the work's not mine.<br />
+The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw<br />
+Thy mountain back, and thy distorted legs,<br />
+Thy face itself;<br />
+Half-minted with the royal stamp of man,<br />
+And half o'ercome with beast, stood doubting long,<br />
+Whose right in thee were more;<br />
+And knew not, if to burn thee in the flames<br />
+Were not the holier work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Am I to blame, if nature threw my body<br />
+In so perverse a mould? yet when she cast<br />
+Her envious hand upon my supple joints,<br />
+Unable to resist, and rumpled them<br />
+On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge<br />
+Her bungled work, she stampt my mind more fair;<br />
+And as from chaos, huddled and deformed,<br />
+The god struck fire, and lighted up the lamps<br />
+That beautify the sky, so he informed<br />
+This ill-shaped body with a daring soul;<br />
+And, making less than man, he made me more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> No; thou art all one error, soul and body;<br />
+The first young trial of some unskilled power,<br />
+Rude in the making art, and ape of Jove.<br />
+Thy crooked mind within hunched out thy back,<br />
+And wandered in thy limbs. To thy own kind<br />
+Make love, if thou canst find it in the world;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">137</span><a id="page_137" name="page_137"></a>
+And seek not from our sex to raise an offspring,<br />
+Which, mingled with the rest, would tempt the gods,<br />
+To cut off human kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> No; let them leave<br />
+The Argian prince for you. That enemy<br />
+Of Thebes has made you false, and break the vows<br />
+You made to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> They were my mother's vows,<br />
+Made when I was at nurse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> But hear me, maid:<br />
+This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon,<br />
+Is master of a sword, to reach the blood<br />
+Of your young minion, spoil the gods' fine work,<br />
+And stab you in his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> This when thou dost,<br />
+Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me;<br />
+And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed;<br />
+And let his ghost&mdash;No, let his ghost have rest&mdash;<br />
+But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury,<br />
+Let Creon haunt himself.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Eur.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis true, I am<br />
+What she has told me&mdash;an offence to sight:<br />
+My body opens inward to my soul,<br />
+And lets in day to make my vices seen<br />
+By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar.<br />
+I must make haste, ere &OElig;dipus return,<br />
+To snatch the crown and her&mdash;for I still love,<br />
+But love with malice. As an angry cur<br />
+Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch<br />
+The hunger of my love on this proud beauty,<br />
+And leave the scraps for slaves.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tiresias,</span> leaning on a staff, and led by his
+Daughter <span class="cnm">Manto.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad?<br />
+Would his Apollo had him! he's too holy<br />
+<span class="pgnm">138</span><a id="page_138" name="page_138"></a>
+For earth and me; I'll shun his walk, and seek<br />
+My popular friends.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> A little farther; yet a little farther,<br />
+Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man,<br />
+Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest<br />
+For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not,<br />
+With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay;<br />
+Methinks I draw more open, vital air.<br />
+Where are we?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Man.</span> Under covert of a wall;<br />
+The most frequented once, and noisy part<br />
+Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here,<br />
+And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> If there be nigh this place a sunny bank,<br />
+There let me rest awhile:&mdash;A sunny bank!<br />
+Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines,<br />
+But a dim winking taper in the skies,<br />
+That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head,<br />
+To glimmer through the damps!
+<span class="sdr">[A Noise within. <span style="font-style: normal;">Follow, follow, follow! A
+Creon, A Creon, A Creon!</span></span><br />
+Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon's name<br />
+Thrice echoed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Man.</span> Fly, the tempest drives this way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Whither can age and blindness take their flight?<br />
+If I could fly, what could I suffer worse,<br />
+Secure of greater ills?
+<span class="sdr">[Noise again, <span style="font-style: normal;">Creon, Creon, Creon!</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Creon, Diocles, Alcander, Pyracmon;</span>
+followed by the Crowd.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse<br />
+The honours you intend me; they're too great,<br />
+And I am too unworthy; think again,<br />
+And make a better choice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Think twice! I ne'er thought twice in all my life;<br />
+That's double work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">139</span><a id="page_139" name="page_139"></a>
+<span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> My first word is always my second; and
+therefore I'll have no second word; and therefore,
+once again, I say, A Creon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Yet hear me, fellow-citizens.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> When did &OElig;dipus salute you by that familiar name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Never, never; he was too proud.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Indeed he could not, for he was a stranger;<br />
+But under him our Thebes is half destroyed.<br />
+Forbid it, heaven, the residue should perish<br />
+Under a Theban born!<br />
+'Tis true, the gods might send this plague among you,<br />
+Because a stranger ruled; but what of that?<br />
+Can I redress it now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Cit.</span> Yes, you or none.<br />
+'Tis certain that the gods are angry with us,<br />
+Because he reigns.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> &OElig;dipus may return; you may be ruined.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Nay, if that be the matter, we are ruined already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> Half of us, that are here present, were
+living men but yesterday; and we, that are absent,
+do but drop and drop, and no man knows whether
+he be dead or living. And therefore, while we are
+sound and well, let us satisfy our consciences, and
+make a new king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Cit.</span> Ha, if we were but worthy to see another
+coronation! and then, if we must die, we'll go merrily
+together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> To the question, to the question.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Are you content, Creon should be your king?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All</span> A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Hear me, ye Thebans, and thou Creon, hear me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">140</span><a id="page_140" name="page_140"></a>
+<span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Who's that would be heard? we'll hear no
+man; we can scarce hear one another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> I charge you, by the gods, to hear me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> Oh, it is Apollo's priest, we must hear
+him; it is the old blind prophet, that sees all things.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Cit.</span> He comes from the gods too, and they are
+our betters; and, in good manners, we must hear
+him:&mdash;Speak, prophet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> For coming from the gods, that's no great
+matter, they can all say that: but he is a great
+scholar; he can make almanacks, an' he were put
+to it; and therefore I say, hear him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> When angry heaven scatters its plagues among you,<br />
+Is it for nought, ye Thebans? are the gods<br />
+Unjust in punishing? are there no crimes,<br />
+Which pull this vengeance down?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Yes, yes; no doubt there are some sins stirring,
+that are the cause of all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Cit.</span> Yes, there are sins, or we should have no
+taxes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> For my part, I can speak it with a safe
+conscience, I never sinned in all my life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> Nor I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">3 Cit.</span> Nor I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> Then we are all justified; the sin lies not
+at our doors.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> All justified alike, and yet all guilty!<br />
+Were every man's false dealing brought to light,<br />
+His envy, malice, lying, perjuries,<br />
+His weights and measures, the other man's extortions,<br />
+With what face could you tell offended heaven,<br />
+You had not sinned?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> Nay, if these be sins, the case is altered;
+for my part, I never thought any thing but murder
+had been a sin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">141</span><a id="page_141" name="page_141"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tir.</span> And yet, as if all these were less than nothing,<br />
+You add rebellion to them, impious Thebans!<br />
+Have you not sworn before the gods to serve<br />
+And to obey this &OElig;dipus, your king<br />
+By public voice elected? answer me,<br />
+If this be true!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> This is true; but its a hard world, neighbours,<br />
+If a man's oath must be his master.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Speak, Diocles; all goes wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> How are you traitors, countrymen of Thebes?<br />
+This holy sire, who presses you with oaths,<br />
+Forgets your first; were you not sworn before<br />
+To Laius and his blood?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> We were; we were.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> While Laius has a lawful successor,<br />
+Your first oath still must bind: Eurydice<br />
+Is heir to Laius; let her marry Creon.<br />
+Offended heaven will never be appeased,<br />
+While &OElig;dipus pollutes the throne of Laius,<br />
+A stranger to his blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> We'll no &OElig;dipus, no &OElig;dipus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Cit.</span> I knew it would be so; the last man ever
+speaks the best reason.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans!<br />
+Remember yet, when, after Laius' death,<br />
+The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste,<br />
+Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew,<br />
+Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls;<br />
+She, taller than your gates, o'er-looked your town;<br />
+But when she raised her bulk to sail above you,<br />
+She drove the air around her like a whirlwind,<br />
+And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">142</span><a id="page_142" name="page_142"></a>
+She clap'd her leathern wing against your towers,<br />
+And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-2">[2]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc. Alc. Pyr.</span> We'll hear no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> You durst not meet in temples,<br />
+To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he,<br />
+Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-3">[3]</a> lark:<br />
+This Creon shook for fear,<br />
+The blood of Laius curdled in his veins,<br />
+'Till &OElig;dipus arrived.<br />
+Called by his own high courage and the gods,<br />
+Himself to you a god, ye offered him<br />
+Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!)<br />
+And heaven authorized it by his success.<br />
+Speak then, who is your lawful king?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> 'Tis &OElig;dipus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> 'Tis &OElig;dipus indeed: Your king more lawful<br />
+Than yet you dream; for something still there lies<br />
+In heaven's dark volume, which I read through mists:<br />
+'Tis great, prodigious; 'tis a dreadful birth,<br />
+Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing.<br />
+I see, I see! how terrible it dawns,<br />
+And my soul sickens with it!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Cit.</span> How the god shakes him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> He comes, he comes! Victory! conquest! triumph!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">143</span><a id="page_143" name="page_143"></a>
+But oh! guiltless and guilty: murder! parricide!<br />
+Incest! discovery! punishment&mdash;'tis ended,<br />
+And all your sufferings o'er.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Trumpet within: enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your <i>Io Pæans</i>!<br />
+Your king returns; the Argians are o'ercome;<br />
+Their warlike prince in single combat taken,<br />
+And led in bands by god-like &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All.</span> &OElig;dipus, &OElig;dipus, &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Creon.</span> Furies confound his fortune!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+Haste, all haste,<span class="sdr">[To them.</span><br />
+And meet with blessings our victorious king;<br />
+Decree processions; bid new holidays;<br />
+Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands;<br />
+And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed,&mdash;<br />
+<i>To &OElig;dipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes.</i><br />
+Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Yes, heaven knows why thou weep'st.&mdash;Go, countrymen,<br />
+And, as you use to supplicate your gods,<br />
+So meet your king with bays, and olive branches;<br />
+Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him<br />
+An end of all your woes; for only he<br />
+Can give it you.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Tiresias,</span> the People following.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> in triumph; <span class="cnm">Adrastus</span> prisoner;
+<span class="cnm">Dymas,</span> Train.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> All hail, great &OElig;dipus!<br />
+Thou mighty conqueror, hail; welcome to Thebes;<br />
+To thy own Thebes; to all that's left of Thebes;<br />
+For half thy citizens are swept away,<br />
+And wanting for thy triumphs;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">144</span><a id="page_144" name="page_144"></a>
+And we, the happy remnant, only live<br />
+To welcome thee, and die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Thus pleasure never comes sincere to man,<br />
+But lent by heaven upon hard usury;<br />
+And while Jove holds us out the bowl of joy,<br />
+Ere it can reach our lips, 'tis dashed with gall<br />
+By some left-handed god. O mournful triumph!<br />
+O conquest gained abroad, and lost at home!<br />
+O Argos, now rejoice, for Thebes lies low!<br />
+Thy slaughtered sons now smile, and think they won,<br />
+When they can count more Theban ghosts than theirs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> No; Argos mourns with Thebes; you tempered so<br />
+Your courage while you fought, that mercy seemed<br />
+The manlier virtue, and much more prevailed;<br />
+While Argos is a people, think your Thebes<br />
+Can never want for subjects. Every nation<br />
+Will crowd to serve where &OElig;dipus commands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Hæm.</span></span>]
+How mean it shews, to fawn upon the victor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Had you beheld him fight, you had said otherwise.<br />
+Come, 'tis brave bearing in him, not to envy<br />
+Superior virtue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> This indeed is conquest,<br />
+To gain a friend like you: Why were we foes?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> 'Cause we were kings, and each disdained an equal.<br />
+I fought to have it in my power to do<br />
+What thou hast done, and so to use my conquest.<br />
+To shew thee, honour was my only motive,<br />
+Know this, that were my army at thy gates,<br />
+And Thebes thus waste, I would not take the gift,<br />
+Which, like a toy dropt from the hands of fortune,<br />
+Lay for the next chance-comer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">145</span><a id="page_145" name="page_145"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> [<span class="sdm">Embracing.</span>] No more captive,<br />
+But brother of the war. 'Tis much more pleasant,<br />
+And safer, trust me, thus to meet thy love,<br />
+Than when hard gauntlets clenched our warlike hands,<br />
+And kept them from soft use.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> My conqueror!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> My friend! that other name keeps enmity alive.<br />
+But longer to detain thee were a crime;<br />
+To love, and to Eurydice, go free.<br />
+Such welcome, as a ruined town can give,<br />
+Expect from me; the rest let her supply.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> I go without a blush, though conquered twice,<br />
+By you, and by my princess.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Adrastus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Then I am conquered thrice; by &OElig;dipus,<br />
+And her, and even by him, the slave of both.<br />
+Gods, I'm beholden to you, for making me your image;<br />
+Would I could make you mine!<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter the People with branches in their hands, holding
+them up, and kneeling: Two Priests before them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Alas, my people!<br />
+What means this speechless sorrow, downcast eyes,<br />
+And lifted hands? If there be one among you,<br />
+Whom grief has left a tongue, speak for the rest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> O father of thy country!<br />
+To thee these knees are bent, these eyes are lifted,<br />
+As to a visible divinity;<br />
+A prince, on whom heaven safely might repose<br />
+The business of mankind; for Providence<br />
+Might on thy careful bosom sleep secure,<br />
+And leave her task to thee.<br />
+But where's the glory of thy former acts?<br />
+Even that's destroyed, when none shall live to speak it.<br />
+Millions of subjects shalt thou have; but mute.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">146</span><a id="page_146" name="page_146"></a>
+A people of the dead; a crowded desert;<br />
+A midnight silence at the noon of day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O were our gods as ready with their pity,<br />
+As I with mine, this presence should be thronged<br />
+With all I left alive; and my sad eyes<br />
+Not search in vain for friends, whose promised sight<br />
+Flattered my toils of war.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> Twice our deliverer!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Nor are now your vows<br />
+Addrest to one who sleeps.<br />
+When this unwelcome news first reached my ears,<br />
+Dymas was sent to Delphos, to enquire<br />
+The cause and cure of this contagious ill,<br />
+And is this day returned; but, since his message<br />
+Concerns the public, I refused to hear it<br />
+But in this general presence: Let him speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dym.</span> A dreadful answer from the hallowed urn,<br />
+And sacred tripos, did the priestess give,<br />
+In these mysterious words.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">The Oracle.</span> <i>Shed in a cursed hour, by cursed hand,<br />
+Blood-royal unrevenged has cursed the land.<br />
+When Laius' death is expiated well,<br />
+Your plague shall cease. The rest let Laius tell.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Dreadful indeed! Blood, and a king's blood too!<br />
+And such a king's, and by his subjects shed!<br />
+(Else why this curse on Thebes?) No wonder then<br />
+If monsters, wars, and plagues, revenge such crimes!<br />
+If heaven be just, its whole artillery,<br />
+All must be emptied on us: Not one bolt<br />
+Shall err from Thebes; but more be called for, more;<br />
+New-moulded thunder of a larger size,<br />
+Driven by whole Jove. What, touch anointed power!<br />
+Then, Gods, beware; Jove would himself be next,<br />
+Could you but reach him too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Pr.</span> We mourn the sad remembrance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Well you may;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">147</span><a id="page_147" name="page_147"></a>
+Worse than a plague infects you: You're devoted<br />
+To mother earth, and to the infernal powers;<br />
+Hell has a right in you. I thank you, gods,<br />
+That I'm no Theban born: How my blood curdles!<br />
+As if this curse touched me, and touched me nearer<br />
+Than all this presence!&mdash;Yes, 'tis a king's blood,<br />
+And I, a king, am tied in deeper bonds<br />
+To expiate this blood. But where, from whom,<br />
+Or how must I atone it? Tell me, Thebans,<br />
+How Laius fell; for a confused report<br />
+Passed through my ears, when first I took the crown;<br />
+But full of hurry, like a morning dream,<br />
+It vanished in the business of the day.<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-4">[4]</a></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> He went in private forth, but thinly followed,<br />
+And ne'er returned to Thebes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Nor any from him? came there no attendant?<br />
+None to bring news?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Pr.</span> But one; and he so wounded,<br />
+He scarce drew breath to speak some few faint words.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What were they? something may be learnt from thence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> He said, a band of robbers watched their passage,<br />
+Who took advantage of a narrow way,<br />
+To murder Laius and the rest; himself<br />
+Left too for dead.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Made you no more enquiry,<br />
+But took this bare relation?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Pr.</span> 'Twas neglected;<br />
+For then the monster Sphinx began to rage,<br />
+And present cares soon buried the remote:<br />
+So was it hushed, and never since revived.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">148</span><a id="page_148" name="page_148"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Mark, Thebans, mark!<br />
+Just then, the Sphinx began to rage among you;<br />
+The gods took hold even of the offending minute,<br />
+And dated thence your woes: Thence will I trace them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> 'Tis just thou should'st.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Hear then this dreadful imprecation; hear it;<br />
+'Tis laid on all; not any one exempt:<br />
+Bear witness, heaven, avenge it on the perjured!<br />
+If any Theban born, if any stranger<br />
+Reveal this murder, or produce its author,<br />
+Ten attick talents be his just reward:<br />
+But if, for fear, for favour, or for hire,<br />
+The murderer he conceal, the curse of Thebes<br />
+Fall heavy on his head: Unite our plagues,<br />
+Ye gods, and place them there: From fire and water,<br />
+Converse, and all things common, be he banished.<br />
+But for the murderer's self, unfound by man,<br />
+Find him, ye powers celestial and infernal!<br />
+And the same fate, or worse than Laius met,<br />
+Let be his lot: His children be accurst;<br />
+His wife and kindred, all of his, be cursed!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Both Pr.</span> Confirm it, heaven!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Jocasta,</span> attended by Women.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> At your devotions? Heaven succeed your wishes;<br />
+And bring the effect of these your pious prayers<br />
+On you, and me, and all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pr.</span> Avert this omen, heaven!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O fatal sound! unfortunate Jocasta!<br />
+What hast thou said! an ill hour hast thou chosen<br />
+For these fore-boding words! why, we were cursing!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Then may that curse fall only where you laid it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak no more!<br />
+For all thou say'st is ominous: We were cursing;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">149</span><a id="page_149" name="page_149"></a>
+And that dire imprecation has thou fastened<br />
+On Thebes, and thee, and me, and all of us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Are then my blessings turned into a curse?<br />
+O unkind &OElig;dipus! My former lord<br />
+Thought me his blessing; be thou like my Laius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What, yet again? the third time hast thou cursed me:<br />
+This imprecation was for Laius' death,<br />
+And thou hast wished me like him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Horror seizes me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Why dost thou gaze upon me? pr'ythee, love,<br />
+Take off thy eye; it burdens me too much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> The more I look, the more I find of Laius:<br />
+His speech, his garb, his action; nay, his frown,&mdash;<br />
+For I have seen it,&mdash;but ne'er bent on me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Are we so like?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> In all things but his love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I love thee more: So well I love, words cannot speak how well.<br />
+No pious son e'er loved his mother more,<br />
+Than I my dear Jocasta.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> I love you too<br />
+The self-same way; and when you chid, methought<br />
+A mother's love start<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-5">[5]</a> up in your defence,<br />
+And bade me not be angry. Be not you;<br />
+For I love Laius still, as wives should love;<br />
+But you more tenderly, as part of me:<br />
+And when I have you in my arms, methinks<br />
+I lull my child asleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Then we are blest;<br />
+And all these curses sweep along the skies<br />
+Like empty clouds, but drop not on our heads.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> I have not joyed an hour since you departed,<br />
+For public miseries, and for private fears;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">150</span><a id="page_150" name="page_150"></a>
+But this blest meeting has o'er-paid them all.<br />
+Good fortune, that comes seldom, comes more welcome.<br />
+All I can wish for now, is your consent<br />
+To make my brother happy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> How, Jocasta?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> By marriage with his niece, Eurydice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Uncle and niece! they are too near, my love;<br />
+'Tis too like incest; 'tis offence to kind:<br />
+Had I not promised, were there no Adrastus,<br />
+No choice but Creon left her of mankind,<br />
+They should not marry: Speak no more of it;<br />
+The thought disturbs me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Heaven can never bless<br />
+A vow so broken, which I made to Creon;<br />
+Remember, he is my brother.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> That is the bar;<br />
+And she thy daughter: Nature would abhor<br />
+To be forced back again upon herself,<br />
+And, like a whirlpool, swallow her own streams.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Be not displeased: I'll move the suit no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> No, do not; for, I know not why, it shakes me,<br />
+When I but think on incest. Move we forward,<br />
+<span class="i1">To thank the gods for my success, and pray</span><br />
+<span class="i1">To wash the guilt of royal blood away.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>An open Gallery. A Royal Bed-chamber
+being supposed behind.<br />
+The Time, Night. Thunder, &amp;c.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon, Alcander,</span> and <span class="cnm">Pyracmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Sure 'tis the end of all things! fate has torn<br />
+The lock of time off, and his head is now<br />
+The ghastly ball of round eternity!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">151</span><a id="page_151" name="page_151"></a>
+Call you these peals of thunder, but the yawn<br />
+Of bellowing clouds? By Jove, they seem to me<br />
+The world's last groans; and those vast sheets of flame<br />
+Are its last blaze. The tapers of the gods,<br />
+The sun and moon, run down like waxen-globes;<br />
+The shooting stars end all in purple jellies<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-6">[6]</a>,<br />
+And chaos is at hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> 'Tis midnight, yet there's not a Theban sleeps,<br />
+But such as ne'er must wake. All crowd about<br />
+The palace, and implore, as from a god,<br />
+Help of the king; who, from the battlement,<br />
+By the red lightning's glare descried afar,<br />
+Atones the angry powers.<span class="sdr">[Thunder, &amp;c.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Ha! Pyracmon, look;<br />
+Behold, Alcander, from yon' west of heaven,<br />
+The perfect figures of a man and woman;<br />
+A sceptre, bright with gems, in each right hand,<br />
+Their flowing robes of dazzling purple made:<br />
+Distinctly yonder in that point they stand,<br />
+Just west; a bloody red stains all the place;<br />
+And see, their faces are quite hid in clouds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> Clusters of golden stars hang o'er their heads,<br />
+And seem so crowded, that they burst upon them:<br />
+All dart at once their baleful influence,<br />
+In leaking fire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Long-bearded comets stick,<br />
+Like flaming porcupines, to their left sides,<br />
+As they would shoot their quills into their hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> But see! the king, and queen, and all the court!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">152</span><a id="page_152" name="page_152"></a>
+Did ever day or night shew aught like this?
+<span class="sdr">[Thunders again. The Scene draws, and discovers
+the Prodigies.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus, Jocasta, Eurydice, Adrastus;</span>
+and all coming forward with amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Answer, you powers divine! spare all this noise,<br />
+This rack of heaven, and speak your fatal pleasure.<br />
+Why breaks yon dark and dusky orb away?<br />
+Why from the bleeding womb of monstrous night,<br />
+Burst forth such myriads of abortive stars?<br />
+Ha! my Jocasta, look! the silver moon!<br />
+A settling crimson stains her beauteous face!<br />
+She's all o'er blood! and look, behold again,<br />
+What mean the mystic heavens she journies on?<br />
+A vast eclipse darkens the labouring planet:&mdash;<br />
+Sound there, sound all our instruments of war;<br />
+Clarions and trumpets, silver, brass, and iron,<br />
+And beat a thousand drums, to help her labour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> 'Tis vain; you see the prodigies continue;<br />
+Let's gaze no more, the gods are humorous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Forbear, rash man.&mdash;Once more I ask your pleasure!<br />
+If that the glow-worm light of human reason<br />
+Might dare to offer at immortal knowledge,<br />
+And cope with gods, why all this storm of nature?<br />
+Why do the rocks split, and why rolls the sea?<br />
+Why those portents in heaven, and plagues on earth?<br />
+Why yon gigantic forms, ethereal monsters?<br />
+Alas! is all this but to fright the dwarfs,<br />
+Which your own hands have made? Then be it so.<br />
+Or if the fates resolve some expiation<br />
+For murdered Laius; hear me, hear me, gods!<br />
+Hear me thus prostrate: Spare this groaning land,<br />
+Save innocent Thebes, stop the tyrant death;<br />
+Do this, and lo, I stand up an oblation,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">153</span><a id="page_153" name="page_153"></a>
+To meet your swiftest and severest anger;<br />
+Shoot all at once, and strike me to the centre.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The Cloud draws, that veiled the Heads of the Figures
+in the Sky, and shews them crowned, with the names
+of <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> and <span class="cnm">Jocasta,</span> written above in great
+characters of gold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Either I dream, and all my cooler senses<br />
+Are vanished with that cloud that fleets away,<br />
+Or just above those two majestic heads,<br />
+I see, I read distinctly, in large gold,<br />
+<i>&OElig;dipus and Jocasta.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> I read the same.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> 'Tis wonderful; yet ought not man to wade<br />
+Too far in the vast deep of destiny.
+<span class="sdr">[Thunder; and the Prodigies vanish.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> My lord, my &OElig;dipus, why gaze you now,<br />
+When the whole heaven is clear, as if the gods<br />
+Had some new monsters made? will you not turn,<br />
+And bless your people, who devour each word<br />
+You breathe?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> It shall be so.<br />
+Yes, I will die, O Thebes, to save thee!<br />
+Draw from my heart my blood, with more content<br />
+Than e'er I wore thy crown.&mdash;Yet, O Jocasta!<br />
+By all the endearments of miraculous love,<br />
+By all our languishings, our fears in pleasure,<br />
+Which oft have made us wonder; here I swear,<br />
+On thy fair hand, upon thy breast I swear,<br />
+I cannot call to mind, from budding childhood<br />
+To blooming youth, a crime by me committed,<br />
+For which the awful gods should doom my death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> 'Tis not you, my lord,<br />
+But he who murdered Laius, frees the land.<br />
+Were you, which is impossible, the man,<br />
+Perhaps my poniard first should drink your blood;<br />
+But you are innocent, as your Jocasta,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">154</span><a id="page_154" name="page_154"></a>
+From crimes like those. This made me violent<br />
+To save your life, which you unjust would lose:<br />
+Nor can you comprehend, with deepest thought,<br />
+The horrid agony you cast me in,<br />
+When you resolved to die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Is't possible?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Alas! why start you so? Her stiffening grief,<br />
+Who saw her children slaughtered all at once,<br />
+Was dull to mine: Methinks, I should have made<br />
+My bosom bare against the armed god,<br />
+To save my &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I pray, no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> You've silenced me, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Pardon me, dear Jocasta!<br />
+Pardon a heart that sinks with sufferings,<br />
+And can but vent itself in sobs and murmurs:<br />
+Yet, to restore my peace, I'll find him out.<br />
+Yes, yes, you gods! you shall have ample vengeance<br />
+On Laius' murderer. O, the traitor's name!<br />
+I'll know't, I will; art shall be conjured for it,<br />
+And nature all unravelled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Sacred sir&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Rage will have way, and 'tis but just; I'll fetch him,<br />
+Though lodged in air upon a dragon's wing,<br />
+Though rocks should hide him: Nay, he shall be dragged<br />
+From hell, if charms can hurry him along:<br />
+His ghost shall be, by sage Tiresias' power,&mdash;<br />
+Tiresias, that rules all beneath the moon,&mdash;<br />
+Confined to flesh, to suffer death once more;<br />
+And then be plunged in his first fires again.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> My lord,<br />
+Tiresias attends your pleasure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Haste, and bring him in.&mdash;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">155</span><a id="page_155" name="page_155"></a>
+O, my Jocasta, Eurydice, Adrastus,<br />
+Creon, and all ye Thebans, now the end<br />
+Of plagues, of madness, murders, prodigies,<br />
+Draws on: This battle of the heavens and earth<br />
+Shall by his wisdom be reduced to peace.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tiresias,</span> leaning on a staff, led by his Daughter
+<span class="cnm">Manto,</span> followed by other Thebans.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">O thou, whose most aspiring mind<br />
+Knows all the business of the courts above,<br />
+Opens the closets of the gods, and dares<br />
+To mix with Jove himself and Fate at council;<br />
+O prophet, answer me, declare aloud<br />
+The traitor, who conspired the death of Laius;<br />
+Or be they more, who from malignant stars<br />
+Have drawn this plague, that blasts unhappy Thebes?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> We must no more than Fate commissions us<br />
+To tell; yet something, and of moment, I'll unfold,<br />
+If that the god would wake; I feel him now,<br />
+Like a strong spirit charmed into a tree,<br />
+That leaps, and moves the wood without a wind:<br />
+The roused god, as all this while he lay<br />
+Entombed alive, starts and dilates himself;<br />
+He struggles, and he tears my aged trunk<br />
+With holy fury; my old arteries burst;<br />
+My rivell'd skin,<br />
+Like parchment, crackles at the hallowed fire;<br />
+I shall be young again:&mdash;Manto, my daughter,<br />
+Thou hast a voice that might have saved the bard<br />
+Of Thrace, and forced the raging bacchanals,<br />
+With lifted prongs, to listen to thy airs.<br />
+O charm this god, this fury in my bosom,<br />
+Lull him with tuneful notes, and artful strings,<br />
+With powerful strains; Manto, my lovely child,<br />
+Sooth the unruly godhead to be mild.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>SONG TO APOLLO.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Ph&oelig;bus, god beloved by men,</p>
+<p>At thy dawn, every beast is roused in his den;</p>
+<span class="pgnm">156</span><a id="page_156" name="page_156"></a>
+<p>At thy setting, all the birds of thy absence complain,</p>
+<p>And we die, all die, till the morning comes again.</p>
+<p class="i2">Ph&oelig;bus, god beloved by men!</p>
+<p class="i2">Idol of the eastern kings,</p>
+<p class="i2">Awful as the god who flings</p>
+<p class="i2">His thunder round, and the lightning wings;</p>
+<p class="i2">God of songs, and Orphean strings,</p>
+<p class="i2">Who to this mortal bosom brings</p>
+<p class="i2">All harmonious heavenly things!</p>
+<p class="i2">Thy drowsy prophet to revive,</p>
+<p>Ten thousand thousand forms before him drive:</p>
+<p>With chariots and horses all o'fire awake him,</p>
+<p>Convulsions, and furies, and prophesies shake him:</p>
+<p>Let him tell it in groans, though he bend with the load,</p>
+<p>Though he burst with the weight of the terrible god.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> The wretch, who shed the blood of old Labdacides,<br />
+Lives, and is great;<br />
+But cruel greatness ne'er was long.<br />
+The first of Laius' blood his life did seize,<br />
+And urged his fate,<br />
+Which else had lasting been and strong.<br />
+The wretch, who Laius killed, must bleed or fly;<br />
+Or Thebes, consumed with plagues, in ruins lie.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> The first of Laius' blood! pronounce the person;<br />
+May the god roar from thy prophetic mouth,<br />
+That even the dead may start up, to behold;<br />
+Name him, I say, that most accursed wretch,<br />
+For, by the stars, he dies!<br />
+Speak, I command thee;<br />
+By Ph&oelig;bus, speak; for sudden death's his doom:<br />
+Here shall he fall, bleed on this very spot;<br />
+His name, I charge thee once more, speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> 'Tis lost,<br />
+Like what we think can never shun remembrance;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">157</span><a id="page_157" name="page_157"></a>
+Yet of a sudden's gone beyond the clouds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Fetch it from thence; I'll have't, wheree'er it be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Let me entreat you, sacred sir, be calm,<br />
+And Creon shall point out the great offender.<br />
+'Tis true, respect of nature might enjoin<br />
+Me silence, at another time; but, oh,<br />
+Much more the power of my eternal love!<br />
+That, that should strike me dumb; yet Thebes, my country&mdash;<br />
+I'll break through all, to succour thee, poor city!<br />
+O, I must speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak then, if aught thou knowest,<br />
+As much thou seem'st to know,&mdash;delay no longer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> O beauty! O illustrious, royal maid!<br />
+To whom my vows were ever paid, till now;<br />
+And with such modest, chaste, and pure affection,<br />
+The coldest nymph might read'em without blushing;<br />
+Art thou the murdress, then, of wretched Laius?<br />
+And I, must I accuse thee! O my tears!<br />
+Why will you fall in so abhorred a cause?<br />
+But that thy beauteous, barbarous hand destroyed<br />
+Thy father, (O monstrous act!) both gods<br />
+And men at once take notice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Eurydice!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Traitor, go on; I scorn thy little malice;<br />
+And knowing more my perfect innocence,<br />
+Than gods and men, then how much more than thee,<br />
+Who art their opposite, and formed a liar,<br />
+I thus disdain thee! Thou once didst talk of love;<br />
+Because I hate thy love,<br />
+Thou dost accuse me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Villain, inglorious villain,<br />
+And traitor, doubly damned, who durst blaspheme<br />
+The spotless virtue of the brightest beauty;<br />
+Thou diest: Nor shall the sacred majesty,
+<span class="sdr">[Draws and wounds him.</span><br />
+<span class="pgnm">158</span><a id="page_158" name="page_158"></a>
+That guards this place, preserve thee from my rage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Disarm them both!&mdash;Prince, I shall make you know,<br />
+That, I can tame you twice. Guards, seize him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Sir,<br />
+I must acknowledge, in another cause<br />
+Repentance might abash me; but I glory<br />
+In this, and smile to see the traitor's blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Creon, you shall be satisfied at full.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> My hurt is nothing, sir; but I appeal<br />
+To wise Tiresias, if my accusation<br />
+Be not most true. The first of Laius' blood<br />
+Gave him his death. Is there a prince before her?<br />
+Then she is faultless, and I ask her pardon.<br />
+And may this blood ne'er cease to drop, O Thebes,<br />
+If pity of thy sufferings did not move me,<br />
+To shew the cure which heaven itself prescribed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Yes, Thebans, I will die to save your lives.<br />
+More willingly than you can wish my fate;<br />
+But let this good, this wise, this holy man,<br />
+Pronounce my sentence: For to fall by him,<br />
+By the vile breath of that prodigious villain,<br />
+Would sink my soul, though I should die a martyr.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Unhand me, slaves.&mdash;O mightiest of kings,<br />
+See at your feet a prince not used to kneel;<br />
+Touch not Eurydice, by all the gods,<br />
+As you would save your Thebes, but take my life:<br />
+For should she perish, heaven would heap plagues on plagues,<br />
+Rain sulphur down, hurl kindled bolts<br />
+Upon your guilty heads.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You turn to gallantry, what is but justice;<br />
+Proof will be easy made. Adrastus was<br />
+The robber, who bereft the unhappy king<br />
+Of life; because he flatly had denied<br />
+To make so poor a prince his son-in-law;<br />
+Therefore 'twere fit that both should perish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">159</span><a id="page_159" name="page_159"></a>
+<span class="cnm">1 Theb.</span> Both, let both die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All Theb.</span> Both, both; let them die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Hence, you wild herd! For your ringleader here,<br />
+He shall be made example. Hæmon, take him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Theb.</span> Mercy, O mercy!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Mutiny in my presence!<br />
+Hence, let me see that busy face no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thebans, what madness makes you drunk with rage?<br />
+Enough of guilty death's already acted:<br />
+Fierce Creon has accused Eurydice,<br />
+With prince Adrastus; which the god reproves<br />
+By inward checks, and leaves their fates in doubt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Therefore instruct us what remains to do,<br />
+Or suffer; for I feel a sleep like death<br />
+Upon me, and I sigh to be at rest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Since that the powers divine refuse to clear<br />
+The mystic deed, I'll to the grove of furies;<br />
+There I can force the infernal gods to shew<br />
+Their horrid forms; each trembling ghost shall rise,<br />
+And leave their grisly king without a waiter.<br />
+For prince Adrastus and Eurydice,<br />
+My life's engaged, I'll guard them in the fane,<br />
+'Till the dark mysteries of hell are done.<br />
+Follow me, princes; Thebans, all to rest.<br />
+O, &OElig;dipus, to-morrow&mdash;but no more.<br />
+If that thy wakeful genius will permit,<br />
+Indulge thy brain this night with softer slumbers:<br />
+To-morrow, O to-morrow!&mdash;Sleep, my son;<br />
+And in prophetic dreams thy fate be shown.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Tir. Adr. Eur. Man.</span> and Theb.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Manent <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus, Jocasta, Creon, Pyracmon,
+Hæmon,</span> and <span class="cnm">Alcander.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> To bed, my fair, my dear, my best Jocasta.<br />
+After the toils of war, 'tis wondrous strange<br />
+<span class="pgnm">160</span><a id="page_160" name="page_160"></a>
+Our loves should thus be dashed. One moment's thought,<br />
+And I'll approach the arms of my beloved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Consume whole years in care, so now and then<br />
+I may have leave to feed my famished eyes<br />
+With one short passing glance, and sigh my vows:<br />
+This, and no more, my lord, is all the passion<br />
+Of languishing Jocasta.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Thou softest, sweetest of the world! good night.&mdash;<br />
+Nay, she is beauteous too; yet, mighty love!<br />
+I never offered to obey thy laws,<br />
+But an unusual chillness came upon me;<br />
+An unknown hand still checked my forward joy,<br />
+Dashed me with blushes, though no light was near;<br />
+That even the act became a violation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> He's strangely thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Hark! who was that? Ha! Creon, didst thou call me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Not I, my gracious lord, nor any here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> That's strange! methought I heard a doleful voice<br />
+Cry, &OElig;dipus.&mdash;The prophet bade me sleep.<br />
+He talked of dreams, and visions, and to-morrow!<br />
+I'll muse no more; come what will, or can,<br />
+My thoughts are clearer than unclouded stars;<br />
+And with those thoughts I'll rest. Creon, good-night.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit with <span class="cnm">Hæm.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Sleep seal your eyes up, sir,&mdash;eternal sleep!<br />
+But if he sleep and wake again, O all<br />
+Tormenting dreams, wild horrors of the night,<br />
+And hags of fancy, wing him through the air:<br />
+From precipices hurl him headlong down,<br />
+Charybdis roar, and death be set before him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Your curses have already taken effect,<br />
+For he looks very sad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">161</span><a id="page_161" name="page_161"></a>
+His eye-balls never move, brows be unbent,<br />
+His blood, his entrails, liver, heart, and bowels,<br />
+Be blacker than the place I wish him, hell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> No more; you tear yourself, but vex not him.<br />
+Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the temple,<br />
+While blind Tiresias conjures up the fiends,<br />
+And pass the time with nice Eurydice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Try promises and threats, and if all fail,<br />
+Since hell's broke loose, why should not you be mad?<br />
+Ravish, and leave her dead with her Adrastus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Were the globe mine, I'd give a province hourly<br />
+For such another thought.&mdash;Lust and revenge!<br />
+To stab at once the only man I hate,<br />
+And to enjoy the woman whom I love!<br />
+I ask no more of my auspicious stars,<br />
+The rest as fortune please; so but this night<br />
+She play me fair, why, let her turn for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> My lord, the troubled king is gone to rest;<br />
+Yet, ere he slept, commanded me to clear<br />
+The antichambers; none must dare be near him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Hæmon, you do your duty;<span class="sdr">[Thunder.</span><br />
+And we obey.&mdash;The night grows yet more dreadful!<br />
+'Tis just that all retire to their devotions.<br />
+The gods are angry; but to-morrow's dawn,<br />
+If prophets do not lie, will make all clear.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">As they go off, <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> enters, walking asleep in
+his shirt, with a dagger in his right hand, and a
+taper in his left.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, my Jocasta! 'tis for this, the wet<br />
+Starved soldier lies on the cold ground;<br />
+For this, he bears the storms<br />
+Of winter camps, and freezes in his arms;<br />
+To be thus circled, to be thus embraced.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">162</span><a id="page_162" name="page_162"></a>
+That I could hold thee ever!&mdash;Ha! where art thou?<br />
+What means this melancholy light, that seems<br />
+The gloom of glowing embers?<br />
+The curtain's drawn; and see she's here again!<br />
+Jocasta? Ha! what, fallen asleep so soon?<br />
+How fares my love? this taper will inform me.&mdash;<br />
+Ha! Lightning blast me, thunder<br />
+Rivet me ever to Prometheus' rock,<br />
+And vultures gnaw out my incestuous heart!&mdash;<br />
+By all the gods, my mother Merope!<br />
+My sword! a dagger! ha, who waits there? Slaves,<br />
+My sword!&mdash;What, Hæmon, dar'st thou, villain, stop me?<br />
+With thy own poniard perish.&mdash;Ha! who's this?<br />
+Or is't a change of death? By all my honours,<br />
+New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:<br />
+Incest and parricide,&mdash;thy father's murderer!<br />
+Out, thou infernal flame!&mdash;Now all is dark,<br />
+All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!<br />
+And now, while thus I stalk about the room,<br />
+I challenge Fate to find another wretch<br />
+Like &OElig;dipus!<span class="sdr">[Thunder, &amp;c.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Jocasta</span> attended, with Lights, in a
+Night-gown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Night, horror, death, confusion, hell, and furies!<br />
+Where am I?&mdash;O, Jocasta, let me hold thee,<br />
+Thus to my bosom! ages let me grasp thee!<br />
+All that the hardest-tempered weathered flesh,<br />
+With fiercest human spirit inspired, can dare,<br />
+Or do, I dare; but, oh you powers, this was,<br />
+By infinite degrees, too much for man.<br />
+Methinks my deafened ears<br />
+Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knocked<br />
+By some tempestuous hand, shoot flashing fire;&mdash;<br />
+That sleep should do this!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Then my fears were true.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">163</span><a id="page_163" name="page_163"></a>
+Methought I heard your voice,&mdash;and yet I doubted,&mdash;<br />
+Now roaring like the ocean, when the winds<br />
+Fight with the waves; now, in a still small tone<br />
+Your dying accents fell, as wrecking ships,<br />
+After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down,<br />
+And bubble up a noise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Trust me, thou fairest, best of all thy kind,<br />
+None e'er in dreams was tortured so before.<br />
+Yet what most shocks the niceness of my temper,<br />
+Even far beyond the killing of my father,<br />
+And my own death, is, that this horrid sleep<br />
+Dashed my sick fancy with an act of incest:<br />
+I dreamt, Jocasta, that thou wert my mother;<br />
+Which, though impossible, so damps my spirits,<br />
+That I could do a mischief on myself,<br />
+Lest I should sleep, and dream the like again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O &OElig;dipus, too well I understand you!<br />
+I know the wrath of heaven, the care of Thebes,<br />
+The cries of its inhabitants, war's toils,<br />
+And thousand other labours of the state,<br />
+Are all referred to you, and ought to take you<br />
+For ever from Jocasta.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Life of my life, and treasure of my soul,<br />
+Heaven knows I love thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O, you think me vile,<br />
+And of an inclination so ignoble,<br />
+That I must hide me from your eyes for ever.<br />
+Be witness, gods, and strike Jocasta dead,<br />
+If an immodest thought, or low desire,<br />
+Inflamed my breast, since first our loves were lighted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O rise, and add not, by thy cruel kindness,<br />
+A grief more sensible than all my torments.<br />
+Thou thinkest my dreams are forged; but by thyself,<br />
+The greatest oath, I swear, they are most true;<br />
+But, be they what they will, I here dismiss them.<br />
+Begone, chimeras, to your mother clouds!<br />
+Is there a fault in us? Have we not searched<br />
+<span class="pgnm">164</span><a id="page_164" name="page_164"></a>
+The womb of heaven, examined all the entrails<br />
+Of birds and beasts, and tired the prophet's art?<br />
+Yet what avails? He, and the gods together,<br />
+Seem, like physicians, at a loss to help us;<br />
+Therefore, like wretches that have lingered long,<br />
+We'll snatch the strongest cordial of our love;<br />
+To bed, my fair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! who calls?<br />
+Didst thou not hear a voice?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Alas! I did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> Jocasta!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O my love, my lord, support me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Call louder, till you burst your airy forms!&mdash;<br />
+Rest on my hand. Thus, armed with innocence,<br />
+I'll face these babbling dæmons of the air;<br />
+In spite of ghosts, I'll on.<br />
+Though round my bed the furies plant their charms,<br />
+I'll break them, with Jocasta in my arms;<br />
+Clasped in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;<br />
+And act my joys, though thunder shake the room.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A dark Grove.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Creon</span> and <span class="cnm">Diocles.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> What mean you by these words?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis better not to be, than to be Creon.<br />
+A thinking soul is punishment enough;<br />
+But when 'tis great, like mine, and wretched too,<br />
+Then every thought draws blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> You are not wretched.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">165</span><a id="page_165" name="page_165"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I am: my soul's ill married to my body.<br />
+I would be young, be handsome, be beloved:<br />
+Could I but breathe myself into Adrastus!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> You rave; call home your thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I pr'ythee let my soul take air a while;<br />
+Were she in &OElig;dipus, I were a king;<br />
+Then I had killed a monster, gained a battle,<br />
+And had my rival prisoner; brave, brave actions!<br />
+Why have not I done these?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Your fortune hindered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> There's it; I have a soul to do them all:<br />
+But fortune will have nothing done that's great,<br />
+But by young handsome fools; body and brawn<br />
+Do all her work: Hercules was a fool,<br />
+And straight grew famous; a mad boist'rous fool,<br />
+Nay worse, a woman's fool;<br />
+Fool is the stuff, of which heaven makes a hero.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> A serpent ne'er becomes a flying dragon,<br />
+Till he has eat a serpent<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-7">[7]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Goes it there?<br />
+I understand thee; I must kill Adrastus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Or not enjoy your mistress:<br />
+Eurydice and he are prisoners here,<br />
+But will not long be so: This tell-tale ghost<br />
+Perhaps will clear 'em both.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Well: 'tis resolved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> The princess walks this way;<br />
+You must not meet her,<br />
+Till this be done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> She hates your sight;<br />
+And more, since you accused her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">166</span><a id="page_166" name="page_166"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Urge it not.<br />
+I cannot stay to tell thee my design;<br />
+For she's too near.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Eurydice.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">How, madam, were your thoughts employed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> On death, and thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Then were they not well sorted: Life and me<br />
+Had been the better match.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> No, I was thinking<br />
+On two the most detested things in nature:<br />
+And they are death and thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> The thought of death to one near death is dreadful!<br />
+O 'tis a fearful thing to be no more;<br />
+Or, if to be, to wander after death;<br />
+To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day;<br />
+And when the darkness comes, to glide in paths<br />
+That lead to graves; and in the silent vault,<br />
+Where lies your own pale shroud, to hover o'er it,<br />
+Striving to enter your forbidden corps,<br />
+And often, often, vainly breathe your ghost<br />
+Into your lifeless lips;<br />
+Then, like a lone benighted traveller,<br />
+Shut out from lodging, shall your groans be answered<br />
+By whistling winds, whose every blast will shake<br />
+Your tender form to atoms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Must I be this thin being? and thus wander?<br />
+No quiet after death!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> None: You must leave<br />
+This beauteous body; all this youth and freshness<br />
+Must be no more the object of desire,<br />
+But a cold lump of clay;<br />
+Which then your discontented ghost will leave,<br />
+And loath its former lodging.<br />
+This is the best of what comes after death.<br />
+Even to the best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">167</span><a id="page_167" name="page_167"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Eur.</span> What then shall be thy lot?&mdash;<br />
+Eternal torments, baths of boiling sulphur,<br />
+Vicissitudes of fires, and then of frosts;<br />
+And an old guardian fiend, ugly as thou art,<br />
+To hollow in thy ears at every lash,&mdash;<br />
+This for Eurydice; these for her Adrastus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> For her Adrastus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Yes; for her Adrastus:<br />
+For death shall ne'er divide us: Death? what's death!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> You seemed to fear it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> But I more fear Creon:<br />
+To take that hunch-backed monster in my arms!<br />
+The excrescence of a man!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> <i>to Cre.</i> See what you've gained.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Death only can be dreadful to the bad:<br />
+To innocence, 'tis like a bug-bear dressed<br />
+To frighten children; pull but off his masque,<br />
+And he'll appear a friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You talk too slightly<br />
+Of death and hell. Let me inform you better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> You best can tell the news of your own country.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Nay, now you are too sharp.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Can I be so to one, who has accused me<br />
+Of murder and of parricide?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You provoked me:<br />
+And yet I only did thus far accuse you,<br />
+As next of blood to Laius: Be advised,<br />
+And you may live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> The means?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis offered you.<br />
+The fool Adrastus has accused himself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> He has indeed, to take the guilt from me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> He says he loves you; if he does, 'tis well:<br />
+He ne'er could prove it in a better time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Then death must be his recompence for love?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis a fool's just reward;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">168</span><a id="page_168" name="page_168"></a>
+The wise can make a better use of life.<br />
+But 'tis the young man's pleasure; his ambition:<br />
+I grudge him not that favour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> When he's dead,<br />
+Where shall I find his equal!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Every where.<br />
+Fine empty things, like him, the court swarms with them.<br />
+Fine fighting things; in camps they are so common,<br />
+Crows feed on nothing else: plenty of fools;<br />
+A glut of them in Thebes.<br />
+And fortune still takes care they should be seen:<br />
+She places 'em aloft, o'th' topmost spoke<br />
+Of all her wheel. Fools are the daily work<br />
+Of nature; her vocation; if she form<br />
+A man, she loses by't, 'tis too expensive;<br />
+'Twould make ten fools: A man's a prodigy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> That is, a Creon: O thou black detractor,<br />
+Who spit'st thy venom against gods and men!<br />
+Thou enemy of eyes;<br />
+Thou, who lov'st nothing but what nothing loves,<br />
+And that's thyself; who hast conspired against<br />
+My life and fame, to make me loathed by all,<br />
+And only fit for thee.<br />
+But for Adrastus' death,&mdash;good Gods, his death!&mdash;<br />
+What curse shall I invent?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> No more: he's here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> He shall be ever here.<br />
+He who would give his life, give up his fame&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adrastus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">If all the excellence of woman-kind<br />
+Were mine;&mdash;No, 'tis too little all for him:<br />
+Were I made up of endless, endless joys!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> And so thou art:<br />
+The man, who loves like me,<br />
+Would think even infamy, the worst of ills,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">169</span><a id="page_169" name="page_169"></a>
+Were cheaply purchased, were thy love the price.<br />
+Uncrowned, a captive, nothing left but honour,&mdash;<br />
+'Tis the last thing a prince should throw away;<br />
+But when the storm grows loud, and threatens love,<br />
+Throw even that o'er-board; for love's the jewel,<br />
+And last it must be kept.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Dioc.</span></span>] Work him, be sure,<br />
+To rage; he is passionate;<br />
+Make him the aggressor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> O false love, false honour!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Dissembled both, and false!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Darest thou say this to me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> To you! why what are you, that I should fear you?<br />
+I am not Laius. Hear me, prince of Argos;<br />
+You give what's nothing, when you give your honour:<br />
+'Tis gone; 'tis lost in battle. For your love,<br />
+Vows made in wine are not so false as that:<br />
+You killed her father; you confessed you did:<br />
+A mighty argument to prove your passion to the daughter!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]
+Gods, must I bear this brand, and not retort<br />
+The lye to his foul throat!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Basely you killed him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]
+O, I burn inward: my blood's all on fire!<br />
+Alcides, when the poisoned shirt sate closest,<br />
+Had but an ague-fit to this my fever.<br />
+Yet, for Eurydice, even this I'll suffer,<br />
+To free my love.&mdash;Well then, I killed him basely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Fairly, I'm sure, you could not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Nor alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You had your fellow thieves about you, prince;<br />
+They conquered, and you killed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">170</span><a id="page_170" name="page_170"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Adr.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] Down, swelling heart!<br />
+'Tis for thy princess all:&mdash;O my Eurydice!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[To her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> [<span class="sdm">To him.</span>]
+Reproach not thus the weakness of my sex,<br />
+As if I could not bear a shameful death,<br />
+Rather than see you burdened with a crime<br />
+Of which I know you free.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You do ill, madam,<br />
+To let your head-long love triumph o'er nature:<br />
+Dare you defend your father's murderer?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> You know he killed him not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Let him say so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> See, he stands mute.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> O power of conscience, even in wicked men!<br />
+It works, it stings, it will not let him utter<br />
+One syllable, one,&mdash;no, to clear himself<br />
+From the most base, detested, horrid act<br />
+That ere could stain a villain,&mdash;not a prince.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Ha! villain!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> Echo to him, groves: cry villain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Let me consider&mdash;did I murder Laius,<br />
+Thus, like a villain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Best revoke your words,<br />
+And say you killed him not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Not like a villain; pr'ythee, change me that<br />
+For any other lye.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dioc.</span> No, villain, villain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You killed him not! proclaim your innocence,<br />
+Accuse the princess: So I knew 'twould be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> I thank thee, thou instructest me:<br />
+No matter how I killed him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Cooled again!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Thou, who usurp'st the sacred name of conscience,<br />
+Did not thy own declare him innocent?<br />
+<span class="pgnm">171</span><a id="page_171" name="page_171"></a>
+To me declare him so? The king shall know it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> You will not be believed, for I'll forswear it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> What's now thy conscience?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis my slave, my drudge, my supple glove,<br />
+My upper garment, to put on, throw off,<br />
+As I think best: 'Tis my obedient conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Infamous wretch!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> My conscience shall not do me the ill office<br />
+To save a rival's life; when thou art dead,<br />
+(As dead thou shalt be, or be yet more base<br />
+Than thou think'st me,<br />
+By forfeiting her life, to save thy own,&mdash;)<br />
+Know this,&mdash;and let it grate thy very soul,&mdash;<br />
+She shall be mine: (she is, if vows were binding;)<br />
+Mark me, the fruit of all thy faith and passion,<br />
+Even of thy foolish death, shall all be mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Thine, say'st thou, monster! shall my love be thine?<br />
+O, I can bear no more!<br />
+Thy cunning engines have with labour raised<br />
+My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,<br />
+To fall and pash thee dead.<br />
+See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion,<span class="sdr">[Draws.</span><br />
+Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;<br />
+And in her room avenging thunder rolls,<br />
+To blast thee thus!&mdash;Come both!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Both draw.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> 'Tis what I wished.<br />
+Now see whose arm can launch the surer bolt,<br />
+And who's the better Jove!<span class="sdr">[Fight.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Help; murther, help!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon</span> and guards, run betwixt them, and
+beat down their swords.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Hold, hold your impious hands! I think the furies,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">172</span><a id="page_172" name="page_172"></a>
+To whom this grove is hallowed, have inspired you:<br />
+Now, by my soul, the holiest earth of Thebes<br />
+You have profaned with war. Nor tree, nor plant<br />
+Grows here, but what is fed with magick juice;<br />
+All full of human souls, that cleave their barks<br />
+To dance at midnight by the moon's pale beams:<br />
+At least two hundred years these reverend shades<br />
+Have known no blood, but of black sheep and oxen,<br />
+Shed by the priest's own hand to Proserpine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Forgive a stranger's ignorance: I knew not<br />
+The honours of the place.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Thou, Creon, didst.<br />
+Not &OElig;dipus, were all his foes here lodged,<br />
+Durst violate the religion of these groves,<br />
+To touch one single hair; but must, unarmed,<br />
+Parle as in truce, or surlily avoid<br />
+What most he longed to kill<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-8">[8]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">173</span><a id="page_173" name="page_173"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I drew not first,<br />
+But in my own defence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> I was provoked<br />
+Beyond man's patience; all reproach could urge<br />
+Was used to kindle one, not apt to bear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> 'Tis &OElig;dipus, not I, must judge this act.&mdash;<br />
+Lord Creon, you and Diocles retire:<br />
+Tiresias, and the brother-hood of priests,<br />
+Approach the place: None at these rites assist,<br />
+But you the accused, who by the mouth of Laius<br />
+Must be absolved or doomed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> I bear my fortune.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> And I provoke my trial.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> 'Tis at hand.<br />
+For see, the prophet comes, with vervain crowned;<br />
+The priests with yew, a venerable band;<br />
+We leave you to the gods.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Hæmon</span> with <span class="cnm">Creon</span> and <span class="cnm">Diocles.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Tiresias,</span> led by <span class="cnm">Manto:</span> The Priests follow;
+all cloathed in long black habits.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Approach, ye lovers;<br />
+Ill-fated pair! whom, seeing not, I know,<br />
+This day your kindly stars in heaven were joined;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">174</span><a id="page_174" name="page_174"></a>
+When lo, an envious planet interposed,<br />
+And threatened both with death: I fear, I fear!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Is there no God so much a friend to love,<br />
+Who can controul the malice of our fate?<br />
+Are they all deaf; or have the giants heaven?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> The gods are just;<br />
+But how can finite measure infinite?<br />
+Reason! alas, it does not know itself!<br />
+Yet man, vain man, would with this short-lined plummet,<br />
+Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.<br />
+Whatever is, is in its causes just;<br />
+Since all things are by fate. But purblind man<br />
+Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;<br />
+His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,<br />
+That poises all above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Then we must die!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> The danger's imminent this day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Why then there's one day less for human ills;<br />
+And who would moan himself, for suffering that,<br />
+Which in a day must pass? something, or nothing;&mdash;<br />
+I shall be what I was again, before<br />
+I was Adrastus.&mdash;<br />
+Penurious heaven, can'st thou not add a night<br />
+To our one day? give me a night with her,<br />
+And I'll give all the rest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> She broke her vow,<br />
+First made to Creon: But the time calls on;<br />
+And Laius' death must now be made more plain.<br />
+How loth I am to have recourse to rites<br />
+So full of horror, that I once rejoice<br />
+I want the use of sight!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Pr.</span> The ceremonies stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>Chuse the darkest part o'the grove:<br />
+Such as ghosts at noon-day love.<br />
+Dig a trench, and dig it nigh<br />
+<span class="pgnm">175</span><a id="page_175" name="page_175"></a>
+Where the bones of Laius lie;<br />
+Altars, raised of turf or stone,<br />
+Will the infernal powers have none.<br />
+Answer me, if this be done?</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All Pr.</span> <i>'Tis done.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>Is the sacrifice made fit?<br />
+Draw her backward to the pit:<br />
+Draw the barren heifer back;<br />
+Barren let her be, and black.<br />
+Cut the curled hair, that grows<br />
+Full betwixt her horns and brows:<br />
+And turn your faces from the sun:<br />
+Answer me, if this be done?</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All Pr.</span> <i>'Tis done.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>Pour in blood, and blood like wine,<br />
+To mother Earth and Proserpine:<br />
+Mingle milk into the stream;<br />
+Feast the ghosts that love the steam;<br />
+Snatch a brand from funeral pile;<br />
+Toss it in to make them boil:<br />
+And turn your faces from the sun:<br />
+Answer me, if all be done?</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All Pr.</span> <i>All is done.</i>
+<span class="sdr">[Peal of Thunder; and flashes of Lightning;
+then groaning below the stage.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Man.</span> O, what laments are those?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> The groans of ghosts, that cleave the heart with pain,<br />
+And heave it up: they pant and stick half-way.
+<span class="sdr">[The Stage wholly darkened.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Man.</span> And now a sudden darkness covers all,<br />
+True genuine night, night added to the groves;<br />
+The fogs are blown full in the face of heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Am I but half obeyed? infernal gods,<br />
+Must you have musick too? then tune your voices,<br />
+And let them have such sounds as hell ne'er heard,<br />
+Since Orpheus bribed the shades.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">176</span><a id="page_176" name="page_176"></a>
+Musick First. Then Song.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><i><span class="cnm">1.</span> Hear, ye sullen powers below:<br />
+<span class="i2">Hear, ye taskers of the dead.</span><br />
+<span class="cnm">2.</span> You that boiling cauldrons blow,<br />
+<span class="i2">You that scum the molten lead.</span><br />
+<span class="cnm">3.</span> You that pinch with red-hot tongs;<br />
+<span class="cnm">1.</span> You that drive the trembling hosts<br />
+<span class="i2">Of poor, poor ghosts,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">With your sharpened prongs;</span><br />
+<span class="cnm">2.</span> You that thrust them off the brim;<br />
+<span class="cnm">3.</span> You that plunge them when they swim:<br />
+<span class="cnm">1.</span> Till they drown;<br />
+<span class="i2">Till they go</span><br />
+<span class="i2">On a row,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Down, down, down:</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Ten thousand, thousand, thousand fathoms low.</span></i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Chorus.</span> <i>Till they drown, &amp;c.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><i><span class="cnm">1.</span> Musick for awhile<br />
+<span class="i1">Shall your cares beguile:</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Wondering how your pains were eased;</span><br />
+<span class="cnm">2.</span> And disdaining to be pleas'd;<br />
+<span class="cnm">1.</span> Till Alecto free the dead<br />
+<span class="i2">From their eternal bands;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Till the snakes drop from her head,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And whip from out her hands.</span><br />
+<span class="cnm">1.</span> Come away,<br />
+<span class="i2">Do not stay,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">But obey,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">While we play,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">For hell's broke up, and ghosts have holiday.</span></i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Chorus.</span> <i>Come away, &amp;c.</i>
+<span class="sdr">[A flash of Lightning: The Stage is made
+bright, and the Ghosts are seen passing
+betwixt the Trees.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><i><span class="cnm">1.</span> Laius! <span class="cnm">2.</span> Laius! <span class="cnm">3.</span> Laius!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">177</span><a id="page_177" name="page_177"></a>
+<span class="cnm">1.</span> <i>Hear! <span class="cnm">2.</span> Hear! <span class="cnm">3.</span> Hear!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>Hear and appear!<br />
+By the Fates that spun thy thread!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cho.</span> <i>Which are three.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>By the furies fierce and dread!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cho.</span> <i>Which are three.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>By the judges of the dead!</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cho.</span> <i>Which are three.<br />
+<span class="i3">Three times three!</span></i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> <i>By hell's blue flame:<br />
+<span class="i3">By the Stygian Lake:</span><br />
+<span class="i2">And by Demogorgon's name,</span><br />
+<span class="i3">At which ghosts quake,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Hear and appear!</span></i>
+<span class="sdr">[The Ghost of Laius rises armed in his chariot,
+as he was slain. And behind his Chariot,
+sit the three who were murdered with him.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost of Laius.</span> Why hast thou drawn me from my pain below,<br />
+To suffer worse above? to see the day,<br />
+And Thebes, more hated? Hell is heaven to Thebes.<br />
+For pity send me back, where I may hide,<br />
+In willing night, this ignominious head:<br />
+In hell I shun the public scorn; and then<br />
+They hunt me for their sport, and hoot me as I fly:<br />
+Behold even now they grin at my gored side,<br />
+And chatter at my wounds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> I pity thee:<br />
+Tell but why Thebes is for thy death accurst,<br />
+And I'll unbind the charm.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> O spare my shame!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Are these two innocent?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> Of my death they are.<br />
+But he who holds my crown,&mdash;Oh, must I speak!&mdash;<br />
+Was doomed to do what nature most abhors.<br />
+The Gods foresaw it; and forbade his being,<br />
+Before he yet was born. I broke their laws,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">178</span><a id="page_178" name="page_178"></a>
+And clothed with flesh his pre-existing soul.<br />
+Some kinder power, too weak for destiny,<br />
+Took pity, and endued his new-formed mass<br />
+With temperance, justice, prudence, fortitude,<br />
+And every kingly virtue: But in vain.<br />
+For fate, that sent him hood-winked to the world,<br />
+Performed its work by his mistaking hands.<br />
+Ask'st thou who murdered me? 'twas &OElig;dipus:<br />
+Who stains my bed with incest? &OElig;dipus:<br />
+For whom then are you curst, but &OElig;dipus!<br />
+He comes, the parricide! I cannot bear him:<br />
+My wounds ake at him: Oh, his murderous breath<br />
+Venoms my airy substance! hence with him,<br />
+Banish him; sweep him out; the plague he bears<br />
+Will blast your fields, and mark his way with ruin.<br />
+From Thebes, my throne, my bed, let him be driven:<br />
+Do you forbid him earth, and I'll forbid him heaven.
+<span class="sdr">[Ghost descends.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus, Creon, Hæmon,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What's this! methought some pestilential blast<br />
+Struck me, just entering; and some unseen hand<br />
+Struggled to push me backward! tell me why<br />
+My hair stands bristling up, why my flesh trembles?<br />
+You stare at me! then hell has been among ye,<br />
+And some lag fiend yet lingers in the grove.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> What omen sawest thou, entering?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> A young stork,<br />
+That bore his aged parent on his back;<br />
+Till weary with the weight, he shook him off,<br />
+And pecked out both his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Oh, &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Oh, wretched &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Oh, fatal king!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What mean these exclamations on my name?<br />
+I thank the gods, no secret thoughts reproach me:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">179</span><a id="page_179" name="page_179"></a>
+No: I dare challenge heaven to turn me outward,<br />
+And shake my soul quite empty in your sight.<br />
+Then wonder not that I can bear unmoved<br />
+These fixed regards, and silent threats of eyes.<br />
+A generous fierceness dwells with innocence;<br />
+And conscious virtue is allowed some pride.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thou knowest not what thou sayest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What mutters he? tell me, Eurydice:<br />
+Thou shak'st: Thy soul's a woman;&mdash;speak, Adrastus,<br />
+And boldly, as thou met'st my arms in fight:&mdash;<br />
+Dar'st thou not speak? why then 'tis bad indeed.&mdash;<br />
+Tiresias, thee I summon by thy priesthood,<br />
+Tell me what news from hell; where Laius points,<br />
+And whose the guilty head!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Let me not answer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Be dumb then, and betray thy native soil<br />
+To farther plagues.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> I dare not name him to thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Dar'st thou converse with hell, and canst thou fear<br />
+An human name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Urge me no more to tell a thing, which, known,<br />
+Would make thee more unhappy: 'Twill be found,<br />
+Though I am silent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Old and obstinate! Then thou thyself<br />
+Art author or accomplice of this murther,<br />
+And shun'st the justice, which by public ban<br />
+Thou hast incurred.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> O, if the guilt were mine,<br />
+It were not half so great: Know, wretched man,<br />
+Thou only, thou art guilty! thy own curse<br />
+Falls heavy on thyself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak this again:<br />
+But speak it to the winds, when they are loudest,<br />
+Or to the raging seas; they'll hear as soon,<br />
+And sooner will believe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Then hear me, heaven!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">180</span><a id="page_180" name="page_180"></a>
+For, blushing, thou hast seen it; hear me, earth,<br />
+Whose hollow womb could not contain this murder,<br />
+But sent it back to light! And thou, hell, hear me!<br />
+Whose own black seal has 'firmed this horrid truth,<br />
+&OElig;dipus murthered Laius!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Rot the tongue,<br />
+And blasted be the mouth that spoke that lie!<br />
+Thou blind of sight, but thou more blind of soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thy parents thought not so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Who were my parents?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thou shalt know too soon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Why seek I truth from thee?<br />
+The smiles of courtiers, and the harlot's tears,<br />
+The tradesman's oaths, and mourning of an heir,<br />
+Are truths to what priests tell.<br />
+O why has priest-hood privilege to lie,<br />
+And yet to be believed!&mdash;thy age protects thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thou canst not kill me; 'tis not in thy fate,<br />
+As 'twas to kill thy father, wed thy mother,<br />
+And beget sons, thy brothers<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-9">[9]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Riddles, riddles!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Thou art thyself a riddle; a perplext<br />
+Obscure enigma, which when thou unty'st,<br />
+Thou shalt be found and lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Impossible!&mdash;<br />
+Adrastus, speak; and, as thou art a king,<br />
+Whose royal word is sacred, clear my fame.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Would I could!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha, wilt thou not? Can that plebeian vice<br />
+Of lying mount to kings? Can they be tainted?<br />
+Then truth is lost on earth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> The cheat's too gross.<br />
+Adrastus is his oracle, and he,<br />
+The pious juggler, but Adrastus' organ.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">181</span><a id="page_181" name="page_181"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> 'Tis plain, the priest's suborned to free the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> And turn the guilt, on you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, honest Creon, how hast thou been belied!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Hear me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> She's bribed to save her lover's life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> If, &OElig;dipus, thou think'st&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Hear him not speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Then hear these holy men.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Priests, priests; all bribed, all priests.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Adrastus, I have found thee:<br />
+The malice of a vanquished man has seized thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> If envy and not truth&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I'll hear no more: Away with him.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Hæmon</span> takes him off by force: <span class="cnm">Creon</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Eurydice</span> follow.</span><br />
+[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Tir.</span></span>] Why stand'st thou here, impostor?<br />
+So old, and yet so wicked,&mdash;Lie for gain?<br />
+And gain so short as age can promise thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> So short a time as I have yet to live,<br />
+Exceeds thy 'pointed hour;&mdash;remember Laius!<br />
+No more; if e'er we meet again, 'twill be<br />
+In mutual darkness; we shall feel before us<br />
+To reach each other's hand;&mdash;remember Laius!
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Tiresias:</span> Priests follow.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> solus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Remember Laius! that's the burden still:<br />
+Murther and incest! but to hear them named<br />
+My soul starts in me: The good sentinel<br />
+Stands to her weapons, takes the first alarm<br />
+To guard me from such crimes.&mdash;Did I kill Laius?<br />
+Then I walked sleeping, in some frightful dream;<br />
+My soul then stole my body out by night;<br />
+And brought me back to bed ere morning-wake<br />
+It cannot be even this remotest way,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">182</span><a id="page_182" name="page_182"></a>
+But some dark hint would justle forward now,<br />
+And goad my memory.&mdash;Oh my Jocasta!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Jocasta.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Why are you thus disturbed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Why, would'st thou think it?<br />
+No less than murder.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Murder! what of murder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Is murder then no more? add parricide,<br />
+And incest; bear not these a frightful sound?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Alas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> How poor a pity is alas,<br />
+For two such crimes!&mdash;was Laius us'd to lie?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Oh no: The most sincere, plain, honest man;<br />
+One who abhorred a lie.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Then he has got that quality in hell.<br />
+He charges me&mdash;but why accuse I him?<br />
+I did not hear him speak it: They accuse me,&mdash;<br />
+The priest, Adrastus and Eurydice,&mdash;<br />
+Of murdering Laius!&mdash;Tell me, while I think on't,<br />
+Has old Tiresias practised long this trade?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> What trade?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Why, this foretelling trade.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> For many years.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Has he before this day accused me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Never.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Have you ere this inquired who did this murder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Often; but still in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I am satisfied.<br />
+Then 'tis an infant-lye; but one day old.<br />
+The oracle takes place before the priest;<br />
+The blood of Laius was to murder Laius:<br />
+I'm not of Laius' blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Even oracles<br />
+Are always doubtful, and are often forged:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">183</span><a id="page_183" name="page_183"></a>
+Laius had one, which never was fulfilled,<br />
+Nor ever can be now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> And what foretold it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> That he should have a son by me, foredoomed<br />
+The murderer of his father: True, indeed,<br />
+A son was born; but, to prevent that crime,<br />
+The wretched infant of a guilty fate,<br />
+Bored through his untried feet, and bound with cords,<br />
+On a bleak mountain naked was exposed:<br />
+The king himself lived many, many years,<br />
+And found a different fate; by robbers murdered,<br />
+Where three ways met: Yet these are oracles,<br />
+And this the faith we owe them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Sayest thou, woman?<br />
+By heaven, thou hast awakened somewhat in me,<br />
+That shakes my very soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> What new disturbance?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Methought thou said'st&mdash;(or do I dream thou said'st it!)<br />
+This murder was on Laius' person done,<br />
+Where three ways meet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> So common fame reports.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Would it had lied!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Why, good my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> No questions.<br />
+'Tis busy time with me; despatch mine first;<br />
+Say where, where was it done!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Mean you the murder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Could'st thou not answer without naming murder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> They say in Phocide; on the verge that parts it<br />
+From Daulia, and from Delphos.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> So!&mdash;How long? when happened this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">184</span><a id="page_184" name="page_184"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Some little time before you came to Thebes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What will the gods do with me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> What means that thought?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Something: But 'tis not yet your turn to ask:<br />
+How old was Laius, what his shape, his stature,<br />
+His action, and his mien? quick, quick, your answer!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Big made he was, and tall: His port was fierce,<br />
+Erect his countenance: Manly majesty<br />
+Sate in his front, and darted from his eyes,<br />
+Commanding all he viewed: His hair just grizzled,<br />
+As in a green old age: Bate but his years,<br />
+You are his picture.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] Pray heaven he drew me not!&mdash;<br />
+Am I his picture?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> So I have often told you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> True, you have;<br />
+Add that unto the rest:&mdash;How was the king<br />
+Attended, when he travelled?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> By four servants:<br />
+He went out private.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Well counted still:&mdash;<br />
+One 'scaped, I hear; what since became of him?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> When he beheld you first, as king in Thebes,<br />
+He kneeled, and trembling begged I would dismiss him:<br />
+He had my leave; and now he lives retired.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> This man must be produced: he must, Jocasta.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> He shall&mdash;yet have I leave to ask you why?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Yes, you shall know: For where should I repose<br />
+The anguish of my soul, but in your breast!<br />
+I need not tell you Corinth claims my birth;<br />
+My parents, Polybus and Merope,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">185</span><a id="page_185" name="page_185"></a>
+Two royal names; their only child am I.<br />
+It happened once,&mdash;'twas at a bridal feast,&mdash;<br />
+One, warm with wine, told me I was a foundling,<br />
+Not the king's son; I, stung with this reproach,<br />
+Struck him: My father heard of it: The man<br />
+Was made ask pardon; and the business hushed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> 'Twas somewhat odd.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> And strangely it perplexed me.<br />
+I stole away to Delphos, and implored<br />
+The god, to tell my certain parentage.<br />
+He bade me seek no farther:&mdash;'Twas my fate<br />
+To kill my father, and pollute his bed,<br />
+By marrying her who bore me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Vain, vain oracles!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> But yet they frighted me;<br />
+I looked on Corinth as a place accurst,<br />
+Resolved my destiny should wait in vain,<br />
+And never catch me there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Too nice a fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Suspend your thoughts; and flatter not too soon.<br />
+Just in the place you named, where three ways met.<br />
+And near that time, five persons I encountered;<br />
+One was too like, (heaven grant it prove not him!)<br />
+Whom you describe for Laius: insolent,<br />
+And fierce they were, as men who lived on spoil.<br />
+I judged them robbers, and by force repelled<br />
+The force they used: In short, four men I slew:<br />
+The fifth upon his knees demanding life,<br />
+My mercy gave it;&mdash;Bring me comfort now.<br />
+If I slew Laius, what can be more wretched!<br />
+From Thebes, and you, my curse has banished me:<br />
+From Corinth, fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Perplex not thus your mind.<br />
+My husband fell by multitudes opprest;<br />
+So Phorbas said: This band you chanced to meet:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">186</span><a id="page_186" name="page_186"></a>
+And murdered not my Laius, but revenged him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> There's all my hope: Let Phorbas tell me this,<br />
+And I shall live again.&mdash;<br />
+To you, good gods, I make my last appeal;<br />
+Or clear my virtue, or my crime reveal:<br />
+If wandering in the maze of fate I run,<br />
+And backward trod the paths I sought to shun,<br />
+Impute my errors to your own decree;<br />
+My hands are guilty, but my heart is free.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pyracmon</span> and <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> Some business of import, that triumph wears,<br />
+You seem to go with; nor is it hard to guess<br />
+When you are pleased, by a malicious joy,<br />
+Whose red and fiery beams cast through your visage<br />
+A glowing pleasure. Sure you smile revenge,<br />
+And I could gladly hear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Would'st thou believe!<br />
+This giddy hair-brained king, whom old Tiresias<br />
+Has thunder-struck with heavy accusation,<br />
+Though conscious of no inward guilt, yet fears:<br />
+He fears Jocasta, fears himself, his shadow;<br />
+He fears the multitude; and,&mdash;which is worth<br />
+An age of laughter,&mdash;out of all mankind,<br />
+He chuses me to be his orator;<br />
+Swears that Adrastus, and the lean-looked prophet<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_4-10">[10]</a>,<br />
+Are joint conspirators; and wished me to<br />
+<span class="pgnm">187</span><a id="page_187" name="page_187"></a>
+Appease the raving Thebans; which I swore<br />
+To do.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> A dangerous undertaking;<br />
+Directly opposite to your own interest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> No, dull Pyracmon; when I left his presence<br />
+With all the wings, with which revenge could aid<br />
+My flight, I gained the midst o'the city;<br />
+There, standing on a pile of dead and dying,<br />
+I to the mad and sickly multitude,<br />
+With interrupting sobs, cry'd out,&mdash;O Thebes!<br />
+O wretched Thebes, thy king, thy &OElig;dipus,<br />
+This barbarous stranger, this usurper, monster,<br />
+Is by the oracle, the wise Tiresias,<br />
+Proclaimed the murderer of thy royal Laius:<br />
+Jocasta too, no longer now my sister,<br />
+Is found complotter in the horrid deed.<br />
+Here I renounce all tie of blood and nature,<br />
+For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes!&mdash;<br />
+And there I wept, and then the rabble howled.<br />
+And roared, and with a thousand antic mouths<br />
+Gabbled revenge! revenge was all the cry.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> This cannot fail: I see you on the throne:<br />
+And &OElig;dipus cast out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Then strait came on<br />
+Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd,<br />
+Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join.<br />
+And head the forces while the heat was in them.<br />
+So to the palace I returned, to meet<br />
+The king, and greet him with another story.&mdash;<br />
+But see, he enters.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> and <span class="cnm">Jocasta,</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet<br />
+Intreats he may return, without being asked<br />
+<span class="pgnm">188</span><a id="page_188" name="page_188"></a>
+Of aught concerning what we have discovered?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> He started when I told him your intent,<br />
+Replying, what he knew of that affair<br />
+Would give no satisfaction to the king;<br />
+Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life,<br />
+To be dismissed from court: He trembled too,<br />
+As if convulsive death had seized upon him,<br />
+And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly,<br />
+That had he been the murderer of Laius,<br />
+Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> By your description, sure as plagues and death<br />
+Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light<br />
+Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace,<br />
+Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius<br />
+Shrinks at his name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Rather let him go:<br />
+So my poor boding heart would have it be,<br />
+Without a reason.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Hark, the Thebans come!<br />
+Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me,<br />
+Let Phorbas be retained.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> You shall, while I<br />
+Have life, be still obeyed.<br />
+In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments,<br />
+And set the fairest countenance to view;<br />
+Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness<br />
+And inward languishing: That oracle<br />
+Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way,<br />
+Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core,<br />
+Howe'er the beauteous out-side shews so lovely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess!<br />
+All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Joc.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> &OElig;dipus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! again that scream of woe!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">189</span><a id="page_189" name="page_189"></a>
+Thrice have I heard, thrice, since the morning dawned,<br />
+It hollowed loud, as if my guardian spirit<br />
+Called from some vaulted mansion, &OElig;dipus!<br />
+Or is it but the work of melancholy?<br />
+When the sun sets, shadows, that shewed at noon<br />
+But small, appear most long and terrible;<br />
+So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,<br />
+Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds;<br />
+Owls, ravens, crickets seem the watch of death;<br />
+Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons;<br />
+Echoes, the very leavings of a voice,<br />
+Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves;<br />
+Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus;<br />
+While we fantastic dreamers heave and puff,<br />
+And sweat with an imagination's weight;<br />
+As if, like Atlas, with these mortal shoulders<br />
+We could sustain the burden of the world.<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Creon</span> comes forward.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> O, sacred sir, my royal lord&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What now?<br />
+Thou seem'st affrighted at some dreadful action;<br />
+Thy breath comes short, thy darted eyes are fixt<br />
+On me for aid, as if thou wert pursued:<br />
+I sent thee to the Thebans; speak thy wonder:<br />
+Fear not; this palace is a sanctuary,<br />
+The king himself's thy guard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> For me, alas,<br />
+My life's not worth a thought, when weighed with yours!<br />
+But fly, my lord; fly as your life is sacred.<br />
+Your fate is precious to your faithful Creon,<br />
+Who therefore, on his knees, thus prostrate begs<br />
+You would remove from Thebes, that vows your ruin.<br />
+When I but offered at your innocence,<br />
+They gathered stones, and menaced me with death,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">190</span><a id="page_190" name="page_190"></a>
+And drove me through the streets, with imprecations<br />
+Against your sacred person, and those traitors<br />
+Who justified your guilt, which cursed Tiresias<br />
+Told, as from heaven, was cause of their destruction.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Rise, worthy Creon; haste and take our guard,<br />
+Rank them in equal part upon the square,<br />
+Then open every gate of this our palace,<br />
+And let the torrent in. Hark, it comes.<span class="sdr">[Shout.</span><br />
+I hear them roar: Begone, and break down all<br />
+The dams, that would oppose their furious passage.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Creon</span> with Guards.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adrastus,</span> his sword drawn.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Your city<br />
+Is all in arms, all bent to your destruction:<br />
+I heard but now, where I was close confined,<br />
+A thundering shout, which made my jailors vanish,<br />
+Cry,&mdash;fire the palace! where is the cruel king?<br />
+Yet, by the infernal Gods, those awful powers<br />
+That have accused you, which these ears have heard,<br />
+And these eyes seen, I must believe you guiltless;<br />
+For, since I knew the royal &OElig;dipus,<br />
+I have observed in all his acts such truth,<br />
+And god-like clearness, that, to the last gush<br />
+Of blood and spirits, I'll defend his life,<br />
+And here have sworn to perish by his side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Be witness, Gods, how near this touches me.
+<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br />
+O what, what recompence can glory make?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Defend your innocence, speak like yourself,<br />
+And awe the rebels with your dauntless virtue.<br />
+But hark! the storm comes nearer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Let it come.<br />
+The force of majesty is never known<br />
+But in a general wreck: Then, then is seen<br />
+The difference 'twixt a threshold and a throne.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">191</span><a id="page_191" name="page_191"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Creon, Pyracmon, Alcander, Tiresias,</span>
+Thebans.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Where, where's this cruel king?&mdash;Thebans, behold,<br />
+There stands your plague, the ruin, desolation<br />
+Of this unhappy&mdash;speak; shall I kill him?<br />
+Or shall he be cast out to banishment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">All Theb.</span> To banishment, away with him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Hence, you barbarians, to your slavish distance!<br />
+Fix to the earth your sordid looks; for he,<br />
+Who stirs, dares more than madmen, fiends, or furies.<br />
+Who dares to face me, by the Gods, as well<br />
+May brave the majesty of thundering Jove.<br />
+Did I for this relieve you, when besieged<br />
+By this fierce prince, when cooped within your walls,<br />
+And to the very brink of fate reduced;<br />
+When lean-jawed famine made more havock of you,<br />
+Than does the plague? But I rejoice I know you,<br />
+Know the base stuff that tempered your vile souls:<br />
+The Gods be praised, I needed not your empire,<br />
+Born to a greater, nobler, of my own;<br />
+Nor shall the sceptre of the earth now win me<br />
+To rule such brutes, so barbarous a people.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Methinks, my lord, I see a sad repentance,<br />
+A general consternation spread among them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> My reign is at an end; yet, ere I finish,<br />
+I'll do a justice that becomes a monarch;<br />
+A monarch, who, in the midst of swords and javelins,<br />
+Dares act as on his throne, encompast round<br />
+With nations for his guard. Alcander, you<br />
+Are nobly born, therefore shall lose your head:<span class="sdr">[Seizes him.</span><br />
+Here, Hæmon, take him: but for this, and this,<br />
+Let cords dispatch them. Hence, away with them!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> O sacred prince, pardon distracted Thebes,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">192</span><a id="page_192" name="page_192"></a>
+Pardon her, if she acts by heaven's award;<br />
+If that the infernal spirits have declared<br />
+The depth of fate; and if our oracles<br />
+May speak, O do not too severely deal!<br />
+But let thy wretched Thebes at least complain.<br />
+If thou art guilty, heaven will make it known;<br />
+If innocent, then let Tiresias die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I take thee at thy word.&mdash;Run, haste, and save Alcander:<br />
+I swear, the prophet, or the king shall die.<br />
+Be witness, all you Thebans, of my oath;<br />
+And Phorbas be the umpire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> I submit.<span class="sdr">[Trumpet sounds.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What mean those trumpets?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon</span> with <span class="cnm">Alcander,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> From your native country,<br />
+Great sir, the famed &AElig;geon is arrived,<br />
+That renowned favourite of the king your father:<br />
+He comes as an ambassador from Corinth,<br />
+And sues for audience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Haste, Hæmon, fly, and tell him that I burn<br />
+To embrace him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> The queen, my lord, at present holds him<br />
+In private conference; but behold her here.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Jocasta, Eurydice,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Hail, happy &OElig;dipus, happiest of kings!<br />
+Henceforth be blest, blest as thou canst desire;<br />
+Sleep without fears the blackest nights away;<br />
+Let furies haunt thy palace, thou shalt sleep<br />
+Secure, thy slumbers shall be soft and gentle<br />
+As infants' dreams.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What does the soul of all my joys intend?<br />
+And whither would this rapture?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O, I could rave,<br />
+Pull down those lying fanes, and burn that vault,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">193</span><a id="page_193" name="page_193"></a>
+From whence resounded those false oracles,<br />
+That robbed my love of rest: If we must pray,<br />
+Rear in the streets bright altars to the Gods,<br />
+Let virgins' hands adorn the sacrifice;<br />
+And not a grey-beard forging priest come near,<br />
+To pry into the bowels of the victim,<br />
+And with his dotage mad the gaping world.<br />
+But see, the oracle that I will trust,<br />
+True as the Gods, and affable as men.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&AElig;geon.</span> Kneels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, to my arms, welcome, my dear &AElig;geon;<br />
+Ten thousand welcomes! O, my foster-father,<br />
+Welcome as mercy to a man condemned!<br />
+Welcome to me, as, to a sinking mariner,<br />
+The lucky plank that bears him to the shore!<br />
+But speak, O tell me what so mighty joy<br />
+Is this thou bring'st, which so transports Jocasta?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Peace, peace, &AElig;geon, let Jocasta tell him!&mdash;<br />
+O that I could for ever charm, as now,<br />
+My dearest &OElig;dipus! Thy royal father,<br />
+Polybus, king of Corinth, is no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! can it be? &AElig;geon, answer me;<br />
+And speak in short, what my Jocasta's transport<br />
+May over-do.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Since in few words, my royal lord, you ask<br />
+To know the truth,&mdash;king Polybus is dead.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O all you powers, is't possible? what, dead!<br />
+But that the tempest of my joy may rise<br />
+By just degrees, and hit at last the stars,<br />
+Say, how, how died he? ha! by sword, by fire,<br />
+Or water? by assassinates, or poison? speak:<br />
+Or did he languish under some disease?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Of no distemper, of no blast he died,<br />
+But fell like autumn-fruit that mellowed long;<br />
+Even wondered at, because he dropt no sooner.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">194</span><a id="page_194" name="page_194"></a>
+Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years;<br />
+Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more:<br />
+Till, like a clock worn out with eating time,<br />
+The wheels of weary life at last stood still.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, let me press thee in my youthful arms,<br />
+And smother thy old age in my embraces.<br />
+Yes, Thebans, yes, Jocasta, yes, Adrastus,<br />
+Old Polybus, the king my father's dead!<br />
+Fires shall be kindled in the midst of Thebes;<br />
+In the midst of tumult, wars, and pestilence,<br />
+I will rejoice for Polybus's death.<br />
+Know, be it known to the limits of the world;<br />
+Yet farther, let it pass yon dazzling roof,<br />
+The mansion of the Gods, and strike them deaf<br />
+With everlasting peals of thundering joy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Fate! Nature! Fortune! what is all this world?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Now, dotard; now, thou blind old wizard prophet,<br />
+Where are your boding ghosts, your altars now;<br />
+Your birds of knowledge, that in dusky air<br />
+Chatter futurity? And where are now<br />
+Your oracles, that called me parricide?<br />
+Is he not dead? deep laid in his monument?<br />
+And was not I in Thebes when fate attacked him?<br />
+Avaunt, begone, you vizors of the Gods!<br />
+Were I as other sons, now I should weep;<br />
+But, as I am, I have reason to rejoice:<br />
+And will, though his cold shade should rise and blast me.<br />
+O, for this death, let waters break their bounds;<br />
+Rocks, valleys, hills, with splitting Io's ring:<br />
+Io, Jocasta, Io pæan sing!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Who would not now conclude a happy end!<br />
+But all fate's turns are swift and unexpected.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Your royal mother Merope, as if<br />
+She had no soul since you forsook the land,<br />
+Waves all the neighbouring princes that adore her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">195</span><a id="page_195" name="page_195"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Waves all the princes! poor heart! for what?<br />
+O speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,<br />
+Grows cold, even in the summer of her age,<br />
+And, for your sake, has sworn to die unmarried.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> How! for my sake, die and not marry! O<br />
+My fit returns.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> This diamond, with a thousand kisses blest,<br />
+With thousand sighs and wishes for your safety,<br />
+She charged me give you, with the general homage<br />
+Of our Corinthian lords.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> There's magic in it, take it from my sight;<br />
+There's not a beam it darts, but carries hell,<br />
+Hot flashing lust, and necromantic incest:<br />
+Take it from these sick eyes, oh hide it from me!&mdash;<br />
+No, my Jocasta, though Thebes cast me out,<br />
+While Merope's alive, I'll ne'er return.<br />
+O, rather let me walk round the wide world<br />
+A beggar, than accept a diadem<br />
+On such abhorred conditions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> You make, my lord, your own unhappiness,<br />
+By these extravagant and needless fears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Needless! O, all you Gods! By heaven, I would rather<br />
+Embrue my arms, up to my very shoulders,<br />
+In the dear entrails of the best of fathers,<br />
+Than offer at the execrable act<br />
+Of damned incest: therefore no more of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> And why, O sacred sir, if subjects may<br />
+Presume to look into their monarch's breast,<br />
+Why should the chaste and spotless Merope<br />
+Infuse such thoughts, as I must blush to name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Because the god of Delphos did forewarn me,<br />
+With thundering oracles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> May I entreat to know them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Yes, my &AElig;geon; but the sad remembrance<br />
+<span class="pgnm">196</span><a id="page_196" name="page_196"></a>
+Quite blasts my soul: See then the swelling priest!<br />
+Methinks, I have his image now in view!&mdash;<br />
+He mounts the tripos in a minute's space,<br />
+His clouded head knocks at the temple-roof;<br />
+While from his mouth,<br />
+These dismal words are heard:<br />
+"Fly, wretch, whom fate has doomed thy father's blood to spill,<br />
+And with preposterous births thy mother's womb to fill!"</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Is this the cause,<br />
+Why you refuse the diadem of Corinth?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> The cause! why, is it not a monstrous one!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Great sir, you may return; and though you should<br />
+Enjoy the queen, (which all the Gods forbid!)<br />
+The act would prove no incest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> How, &AElig;geon?<br />
+Though I enjoy my mother, not incestuous!<br />
+Thou ravest, and so do I; and these all catch<br />
+My madness; look, they're dead with deep distraction:<br />
+Not incest! what, not incest with my mother?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> My lord, queen Merope is not your mother.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! did I hear thee right? not Merope<br />
+My mother!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Nor was Polybus your father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Then all my days and nights must now be spent<br />
+In curious search, to find out those dark parents<br />
+Who gave me to the world; speak then, &AElig;geon.<br />
+By all the Gods celestial and infernal,<br />
+By all the ties of nature, blood and friendship,<br />
+Conceal not from this racked despairing king,<br />
+A point or smallest grain of what thou knowest:<br />
+Speak then, O answer to my doubts directly,<br />
+If royal Polybus was not my father,<br />
+Why was I called his son?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">197</span><a id="page_197" name="page_197"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> He from my arms<br />
+Received you, as the fairest gift of nature.<br />
+Not but you were adorned with all the riches<br />
+That empire could bestow, in costly mantles,<br />
+Upon its infant heir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> But was I made the heir of Corinth's crown,<br />
+Because &AElig;geon's hands presented me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> By my advice,<br />
+Being past all hope of children,<br />
+He took, embraced, and owned you for his son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Perhaps I then am yours; instruct me, sir;<br />
+If it be so, I'll kneel and weep before you.<br />
+With all the obedience of a penitent child,<br />
+Imploring pardon.<br />
+Kill me, if you please;<br />
+I will not writhe my body at the wound,<br />
+But sink upon your feet with a last sigh,<br />
+And ask forgiveness with my dying hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> O rise, and call not to this aged cheek<br />
+The little blood which should keep warm my heart;<br />
+You are not mine, nor ought I to be blest<br />
+With such a god-like offspring. Sir, I found you<br />
+Upon the mount Cithæron.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O speak, go on, the air grows sensible<br />
+Of the great things you utter, and is calm:<br />
+The hurried orbs, with storms so racked of late,<br />
+Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking.<br />
+Cithæron! speak, the valley of Cithæron!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Oft-times before, I thither did resort,<br />
+Charmed with the conversation of a man,<br />
+Who led a rural life, and had command<br />
+O'er all the shepherds, who about those vales<br />
+Tended their numerous flocks: in this man's arms,<br />
+I saw you smiling at a fatal dagger,<br />
+Whose point he often offered at your throat;<br />
+But then you smiled, and then he drew it back,<br />
+Then lifted it again,&mdash;you smiled again:<br />
+'Till he at last in fury threw it from him,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">198</span><a id="page_198" name="page_198"></a>
+And cried aloud,&mdash;The Gods forbid thy death.<br />
+Then I rushed in, and, after some discourse,<br />
+To me he did bequeath your innocent life;<br />
+And I, the welcome care to Polybus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> To whom belongs the master of the shepherds?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> His name I knew not, or I have forgot:<br />
+That he was of the family of Laius,<br />
+I well remember.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> And is your friend alive? for if he be,<br />
+I'll buy his presence, though it cost my crown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Your menial attendants best can tell<br />
+Whether he lives, or not; and who has now<br />
+His place.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Winds, bear me to some barren island,<br />
+Where print of human feet was never seen;<br />
+O'er-grown with weeds of such a monstrous height,<br />
+Their baleful tops are washed with bellying clouds;<br />
+Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent<br />
+For horrors, that would blast the barbarous world!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> If there be any here that knows the person<br />
+Whom he described, I charge him on his life<br />
+To speak; concealment shall be sudden death:<br />
+But he, who brings him forth, shall have reward<br />
+Beyond ambition's lust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> His name is Phorbas:<br />
+Jocasta knows him well; but, if I may<br />
+Advise, rest where you are, and seek no farther.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Then all goes well, since Phorbas is secured<br />
+By my Jocasta.&mdash;Haste, and bring him forth:<br />
+My love, my queen, give orders, Ha! what mean<br />
+These tears, and groans, and strugglings? speak, my fair,<br />
+What are thy troubles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Yours; and yours are mine:<br />
+Let me conjure you, take the prophet's counsel,<br />
+And let this Phorbas go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">199</span><a id="page_199" name="page_199"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Not for the world.<br />
+By all the Gods, I'll know my birth, though death<br />
+Attends the search. I have already past<br />
+The middle of the stream; and to return,<br />
+Seems greater labour than to venture over:<br />
+Therefore produce him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Once more, by the Gods,<br />
+I beg, my &OElig;dipus, my lord, my life,<br />
+My love, my all, my only, utmost hope!<br />
+I beg you, banish Phorbas: O, the Gods,<br />
+I kneel, that you may grant this first request.<br />
+Deny me all things else; but for my sake,<br />
+And as you prize your own eternal quiet,<br />
+Never let Phorbas come into your presence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> You must be raised, and Phorbas shall appear,<br />
+Though his dread eyes were basilisks. Guards, haste,<br />
+Search the queen's lodgings; find, and force him hither.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Guards.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O, &OElig;dipus, yet send,<br />
+And stop their entrance, ere it be too late;<br />
+Unless you wish to see Jocasta rent<br />
+With furies,&mdash;slain out-right with mere distraction!<br />
+Keep from your eyes and mine the dreadful Phorbas.<br />
+Forbear this search, I'll think you more than mortal;<br />
+Will you yet hear me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Tempests will be heard,<br />
+And waves will dash, though rocks their basis keep.<br />
+But see, they enter. If thou truly lovest me,<br />
+Either forbear this subject, or retire.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon,</span> Guards, with <span class="cnm">Phorbas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Prepare then, wretched prince, prepare to hear<br />
+A story, that shall turn thee into stone.<br />
+Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in nature,<br />
+A flaw made through the centre, by some God,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">200</span><a id="page_200" name="page_200"></a>
+Through which the groans of ghosts may strike thy ears,<br />
+They would not wound thee, as this story will.<br />
+Hark, hark! a hollow voice calls out aloud,<br />
+Jocasta! Yes, I'll to the royal bed,<br />
+Where first the mysteries of our loves were acted,<br />
+And double-dye it with imperial crimson;<br />
+Tear off this curling hair,<br />
+Be gorged with fire, stab every vital part,<br />
+And, when at last I'm slain, to crown the horror,<br />
+My poor tormented ghost shall cleave the ground,<br />
+To try if hell can yet more deeply wound.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> She's gone; and, as she went, methought her eyes<br />
+Grew larger, while a thousand frantic spirits,<br />
+Seething like rising bubbles on the brim,<br />
+Peeped from the watry brink, and glowed upon me.<br />
+I'll seek no more; but hush my genius up,<br />
+That throws me on my fate.&mdash;Impossible!<br />
+O wretched man, whose too too busy thoughts<br />
+Hide swifter than the gallopping heaven's round,<br />
+With an eternal hurry of the soul.<br />
+Nay, there's a time when even the rolling year<br />
+Seems to stand still, dead calms are in the ocean,<br />
+When not a breath disturbs the drowzy waves:<br />
+But man, the very monster of the world,<br />
+Is ne'er at rest; the soul for ever wakes.<br />
+Come then, since destiny thus drives us on,<br />
+Let us know the bottom.&mdash;Hæmon, you I sent;<br />
+Where is that Phorbas?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Here, my royal lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak first, &AElig;geon, say, is this the man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> My lord, it is; Though time has ploughed that face<br />
+With many furrows since I saw it first,<br />
+Yet I'm too well acquainted with the ground,<br />
+Quite to forget it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">201</span><a id="page_201" name="page_201"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Peace; stand back a while.&mdash;<br />
+Come hither, friend; I hear thy name is Phorbas.<br />
+Why dost thou turn thy face? I charge thee answer<br />
+To what I shall enquire: Wert thou not once<br />
+The servant to king Laius here in Thebes?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> I was, great sir, his true and faithful servant;<br />
+Born and bred up in court, no foreign slave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What office hadst thou? what was thy employment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> He made me lord of all his rural pleasures;<br />
+For much he loved them: oft I entertained him<br />
+With sporting swains, o'er whom I had command.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Where was thy residence? to what part of the country<br />
+Didst thou most frequently resort?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> To mount Cithæron, and the pleasant vallies<br />
+Which all about lie shadowing its large feet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Come forth, &AElig;geon.&mdash;Ha! why start'st thou, Phorbas?<br />
+Forward, I say, and face to face confront him:<br />
+Look wistly on him,&mdash;through him, if thou canst!<br />
+And tell me on thy life, say, dost thou know him?<br />
+Didst thou e'er see him? e'er converse with him<br />
+Near mount Cithæron?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Who, my lord, this man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> This man, this old, this venerable man:<br />
+Speak, did'st thou ever meet him there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Where, sacred sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Near mount Cithæron; answer to the purpose,<br />
+'Tis a king speaks; and royal minutes are<br />
+Of much more worth than thousand vulgar years:<br />
+Did'st thou e'er see this man near mount Cithæron?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Most sure, my lord, I have seen lines like those<br />
+His visage bears; but know not where, nor when.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">202</span><a id="page_202" name="page_202"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Is't possible you should forget your ancient friend?<br />
+There are, perhaps,<br />
+Particulars, which may excite your dead remembrance.<br />
+Have you forgot I took an infant from you,<br />
+Doomed to be murdered in that gloomy vale?<br />
+The swaddling-bands were purple, wrought with gold.<br />
+Have you forgot, too, how you wept, and begged<br />
+That I should breed him up, and ask no more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Whate'er I begged, thou, like a dotard, speak'st<br />
+More than is requisite; and what of this?<br />
+Why is it mentioned now? And why, O why<br />
+Dost thou betray the secrets of thy friend?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ge.</span> Be not too rash. That infant grew at last<br />
+A king; and here the happy monarch stands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Ha! whither would'st thou? O what hast thou uttered!<br />
+For what thou hast said, death strike thee dumb for ever!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Forbear to curse the innocent; and be<br />
+Accurst thyself, thou shifting traitor, villain,<br />
+Damned hypocrite, equivocating slave!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> O heavens! wherein, my lord, have I offended?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Why speak you not according to my charge?<br />
+Bring forth the rack: since mildness cannot win you,<br />
+Torments shall force.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Hold, hold, O dreadful sir!<br />
+You will not rack an innocent old man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Alas! What would you have me say?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Did this old man take from your arms an infant?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the gods,<br />
+Phorbas had perished in that very moment.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">203</span><a id="page_203" name="page_203"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Moment! Thou shalt be hours, days, years, a dying.&mdash;<br />
+Here, bind his hands; he dallies with my fury:<br />
+But I shall find a way&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> My lord, I said<br />
+I gave the infant to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Was he thy own, or given thee by another?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> He was not mine, but given me by another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Whence? and from whom? what city? of what house?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> O, royal sir, I bow me to the ground;<br />
+Would I could sink beneath it! by the gods,<br />
+I do conjure you to inquire no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Furies and hell! Hæmon, bring forth the rack,<br />
+Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames:<br />
+He shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off,<br />
+And burnt alive.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> O spare my age.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Rise then, and speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> Dread sir, I will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Who gave that infant to thee?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> One of king Laius' family.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, you immortal gods!&mdash;But say, who was't?<br />
+Which of the family of Laius gave it?<br />
+A servant, or one of the royal blood?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> O wretched state! I die, unless I speak;<br />
+And if I speak, most certain death attends me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Thou shalt not die. Speak, then, who was it? speak,<br />
+While I have sense to understand the horror;<br />
+For I grow cold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> The queen Jocasta told me,<br />
+It was her son by Laius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O you gods!&mdash;But did she give it thee?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> My lord, she did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">204</span><a id="page_204" name="page_204"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Wherefore? for what?&mdash;O break not yet, my heart;<br />
+Though my eyes burst, no matter:&mdash;wilt thou tell me,<br />
+Or must I ask for ever? for what end,<br />
+Why gave she thee her child?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> To murder it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O more than savage! murder her own bowels,<br />
+Without a cause!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> There was a dreadful one,<br />
+Which had foretold, that most unhappy son<br />
+Should kill his father, and enjoy his mother.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> But one thing more.<br />
+Jocasta told me, thou wert by the chariot<br />
+When the old king was slain: Speak, I conjure thee,<br />
+For I shall never ask thee aught again,&mdash;<br />
+What was the number of the assassinates?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Phor.</span> The dreadful deed was acted but by one;<br />
+And sure that one had much of your resemblance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> 'Tis well! I thank you, gods! 'tis wondrous well!<br />
+Daggers, and poison! O there is no need<br />
+For my dispatch: And you, you merciless powers,<br />
+Hoard up your thunder-stones; keep, keep your bolts,<br />
+For crimes of little note.<span class="sdr">[Falls.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Help, Hæmon, help, and bow him gently forward;<br />
+Chafe, chafe his temples: How the mighty spirits,<br />
+Half-strangled with the damp his sorrows raised,<br />
+Struggle for vent! But see, he breathes again,<br />
+And vigorous nature breaks through opposition.&mdash;<br />
+How fares my royal friend?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> The worse for you.<br />
+O barbarous men, and oh the hated light,<br />
+Why did you force me back, to curse the day;<br />
+To curse my friends; to blast with this dark breath<br />
+<span class="pgnm">205</span><a id="page_205" name="page_205"></a>
+The yet untainted earth and circling air?<br />
+To raise new plagues, and call new vengeance down,<br />
+Why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me?<br />
+Methinks there's not a hand that grasps this hell,<br />
+But should run up like flax all blazing fire.<br />
+Stand from this spot, I wish you as my friends,<br />
+And come not near me, lest the gaping earth<br />
+Swallow you too.&mdash;Lo, I am gone already.
+<span class="sdr">[Draws, and claps his Sword to his Breast,
+which <span class="cnm">Adrastus</span> strikes away with his
+Foot.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> You shall no more be trusted with your life:&mdash;<br />
+Creon, Alcander, Hæmon, help to hold him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Cruel Adrastus! wilt thou, Hæmon, too?<br />
+Are these the obligations of my friends?<br />
+O worse than worst of my most barbarous foes!<br />
+Dear, dear Adrastus, look with half an eye<br />
+On my unheard of woes, and judge thyself,<br />
+If it be fit that such a wretch should live!<br />
+O, by these melting eyes, unused to weep,<br />
+With all the low submissions of a slave,<br />
+I do conjure thee, give my horrors way!<br />
+Talk not of life, for that will make me rave:<br />
+As well thou may'st advise a tortured wretch,<br />
+All mangled o'er from head to foot with wounds,<br />
+And his bones broke, to wait a better day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> My lord, you ask me things impossible;<br />
+And I with justice should be thought your foe,<br />
+To leave you in this tempest of your soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Though banished Thebes, in Corinth you may reign;<br />
+The infernal powers themselves exact no more:<br />
+Calm then your rage, and once more seek the gods.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I'll have no more to do with gods, nor men;<br />
+Hence, from my arms, avaunt. Enjoy thy mother!<br />
+What, violate, with bestial appetite,<br />
+The sacred veils that wrapt thee yet unborn!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">206</span><a id="page_206" name="page_206"></a>
+This is not to be borne! Hence; off, I say!<br />
+For they, who let my vengeance, make themselves<br />
+Accomplices in my most horrid guilt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Let it be so; we'll fence heav'n's fury from you,<br />
+And suffer all together. This, perhaps,<br />
+When ruin comes, may help to break your fall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O that, as oft I have at Athens seen<br />
+The stage arise, and the big clouds descend;<br />
+So now, in very deed I might behold<br />
+The pond'rous earth, and all yon marble roof<br />
+Meet, like the hand of Jove, and crush mankind!<br />
+For all the elements, and all the powers<br />
+Celestial, nay, terrestrial, and infernal,<br />
+Conspire the wreck of out-cast &OElig;dipus!<br />
+Fall darkness then, and everlasting night<br />
+Shadow the globe; may the sun never dawn;<br />
+The silver moon be blotted from her orb;<br />
+And for an universal rout of nature<br />
+Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,<br />
+May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,<br />
+But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark;<br />
+That jars may rise, and wrath divine be hurled,<br />
+Which may to atoms shake the solid world!<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V.&mdash;SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Creon, Alcander,</span> and <span class="cnm">Pyracmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Creon.</span> Thebes is at length my own; and all my wishes,<br />
+Which sure were great as royalty e'er formed,<br />
+Fortune and my auspicious stars have crowned.<br />
+O diadem, thou centre of ambition,<br />
+Where all its different lines are reconciled,<br />
+As if thou wert the burning glass of glory!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">207</span><a id="page_207" name="page_207"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Pyr.</span> Might I be counsellor, I would intreat you<br />
+To cool a little, sir; find out Eurydice;<br />
+And, with the resolution of a man<br />
+Marked out for greatness, give the fatal choice<br />
+Of death or marriage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Survey cursed &OElig;dipus,<br />
+As one who, though unfortunate, beloved,<br />
+Thought innocent, and therefore much lamented<br />
+By all the Thebans: you must mark him dead,<br />
+Since nothing but his death, not banishment,<br />
+Can give assurance to your doubtful reign.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Well have you done, to snatch me from the storm<br />
+Of racking transport, where the little streams<br />
+Of love, revenge, and all the under passions,<br />
+As waters are by sucking whirlpools drawn,<br />
+Were quite devoured in the vast gulph of empire.<br />
+Therefore, Pyracmon, as you boldly urged,<br />
+Eurydice shall die, or be my bride.<br />
+Alcander, summon to their master's aid<br />
+My menial servants, and all those whom change<br />
+Of state, and hope of the new monarch's favour,<br />
+Can win to take our part: Away.&mdash;What now?<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Alcander.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">When Hæmon weeps, without the help of ghosts<br />
+I may foretel there is a fatal cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Is't possible you should be ignorant<br />
+Of what has happened to the desperate king?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I know no more but that he was conducted<br />
+Into his closet, where I saw him fling<br />
+His trembling body on the royal bed;<br />
+All left him there, at his desire, alone;<br />
+But sure no ill, unless he died with grief,<br />
+Could happen, for you bore his sword away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">208</span><a id="page_208" name="page_208"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> I did; and, having locked the door, I stood;<br />
+And through a chink I found, not only heard,<br />
+But saw him, when he thought no eye beheld him.<br />
+At first, deep sighs heaved from his woful heart<br />
+Murmurs, and groans that shook the outward rooms.<br />
+And art thou still alive, O wretch! he cried;<br />
+Then groaned again, as if his sorrowful soul<br />
+Had cracked the strings of life, and burst away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I weep to hear; how then should I have grieved,<br />
+Had I beheld this wondrous heap of sorrow!<br />
+But, to the fatal period.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Thrice he struck,<br />
+With all his force, his hollow groaning breast,<br />
+And thus, with outcries, to himself complained:&mdash;<br />
+But thou canst weep then, and thou think'st 'tis well,<br />
+These bubbles of the shallowest emptiest sorrow,<br />
+Which children vent for toys, and women rain<br />
+For any trifle their fond hearts are set on;<br />
+Yet these thou think'st are ample satisfaction<br />
+For bloodiest murder, and for burning lust:<br />
+No, parricide! if thou must weep, weep blood;<br />
+Weep eyes, instead of tears:&mdash;O, by the gods!<br />
+'Tis greatly thought, he cried, and fits my woes.<br />
+Which said, he smiled revengefully, and leapt<br />
+Upon the floor; thence gazing at the skies,<br />
+His eye-balls fiery red, and glowing vengeance,&mdash;<br />
+Gods I accuse you not, though I no more<br />
+Will view your heaven, till, with more durable glasses,<br />
+The mighty soul's immortal perspectives,<br />
+I find your dazzling beings: Take, he cried,<br />
+Take, eyes, your last, your fatal farewel-view.<br />
+Then with a groan, that seemed the call of death,<br />
+With horrid force lifting his impious hands,<br />
+He snatched, he tore, from forth their bloody orbs,<br />
+The balls of sight, and dashed them on the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> A master-piece of horror; new and dreadful!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> I ran to succour him; but, oh! too late;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">209</span><a id="page_209" name="page_209"></a>
+For he had plucked the remnant strings away.<br />
+What then remains, but that I find Tiresias,<br />
+Who, with his wisdom, may allay those furies,<br />
+That haunt his gloomy soul?<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Heaven will reward<br />
+Thy care, most honest, faithful,&mdash;foolish Hæmon!<br />
+But see, Alcander enters, well attended.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alcander,</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">I see thou hast been diligent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alc.</span> Nothing these,<br />
+For number, to the crowds that soon will follow;<br />
+Be resolute,<br />
+And call your utmost fury to revenge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Ha! thou hast given<br />
+The alarm to cruelty; and never may<br />
+These eyes be closed, till they behold Adrastus<br />
+Stretched at the feet of false Eurydice.<br />
+But see, they are here! retire a while, and mark.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adrastus,</span> and <span class="cnm">Eurydice,</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Alas, Eurydice, what fond rash man,<br />
+What inconsiderate and ambitious fool,<br />
+That shall hereafter read the fate of &OElig;dipus,<br />
+Will dare, with his frail hand, to grasp a sceptre?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> 'Tis true, a crown seems dreadful, and I wish<br />
+That you and I, more lowly placed, might pass<br />
+Our softer hours in humble cells away:<br />
+Not but I love you to that infinite height,<br />
+I could (O wondrous proof of fiercest love!)<br />
+Be greatly wretched in a court with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Take then this most loved innocence away;<br />
+Fly from tumultuous Thebes, from blood and murder,<br />
+Fly from the author of all villainies,<br />
+Rapes, death, and treason, from that fury Creon:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">210</span><a id="page_210" name="page_210"></a>
+Vouchsafe that I, o'er-joyed, may bear you hence,<br />
+And at your feet present the crown of Argos.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Creon</span> and attendants come up to him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> I have o'er-heard thy black design, Adrastus,<br />
+And therefore, as a traitor to this state,<br />
+Death ought to be thy lot: Let it suffice<br />
+That Thebes surveys thee as a prince; abuse not<br />
+Her proffered mercy, but retire betimes,<br />
+Lest she repent, and hasten on thy doom.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Think not, most abject, most abhorred of men,<br />
+Adrastus will vouchsafe to answer thee;&mdash;<br />
+Thebans to you I justify my love:<br />
+I have addrest my prayer to this fair princess;<br />
+But, if I ever meant a violence,<br />
+Or thought to ravish, as that traitor did,<br />
+What humblest adorations could not win,<br />
+Brand me, you gods, blot me with foul dishonour,<br />
+And let men curse me by the name of Creon!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Hear me, O Thebans, if you dread the wrath<br />
+Of her whom fate ordained to be your queen;<br />
+Hear me, and dare not, as you prize your lives,<br />
+To take the part of that rebellious traitor.<br />
+By the decree of royal &OElig;dipus,<br />
+By queen Jocasta's order, by what's more,<br />
+My own dear vows of everlasting love,<br />
+I here resign, to prince Adrastus' arms,<br />
+All that the world can make me mistress of.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> O perjured woman!<br />
+Draw all; and when I give the word, fall on.&mdash;<br />
+Traitor, resign the princess, or this moment<br />
+Expect, with all those most unfortunate wretches,<br />
+Upon this spot straight to be hewn in pieces.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> No, villain, no;<br />
+With twice those odds of men,<br />
+I doubt not in this cause to vanquish thee.&mdash;<br />
+Captain remember to your care I give<br />
+<span class="pgnm">211</span><a id="page_211" name="page_211"></a>
+My love; ten thousand, thousand times more clear,<br />
+Than life or liberty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Fall on, Alcander.&mdash;<br />
+Pyracmon you and I must wheel about<br />
+For nobler game, the princess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Ah, traito2, dost thou shun me?<br />
+Follow, follow,<br />
+My brave companions! see, the cowards fly!
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt fighting: <span class="cnm">Cruon's</span> Party beaten off
+by <span class="cnm">Adrastus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span>O, 'tis too little this; thy loss of sight,<br />
+What has it done? I shall be gazed at now<br />
+The more; be pointed at, There goes the monster!<br />
+Nor have I hid my horrors from myself;<br />
+For, though corporeal light be lost for ever,<br />
+The bright reflecting soul, through glaring optics,<br />
+Presents in larger size her black ideas,<br />
+Doubling the bloody prospect of my crimes;<br />
+Holds fancy down, and makes her act again,<br />
+With wife and mother:&mdash;Tortures, hell and furies!<br />
+Ha! now the baleful offspring's brought to light!<br />
+In horrid form, they rank themselves before me;&mdash;<br />
+What shall I call this medley of creation?<br />
+Here one, with all the obedience of a son,<br />
+Borrowing Jocasta's look, kneels at my feet,<br />
+And calls me father; there, a sturdy boy,<br />
+Resembling Laius just as when I killed him,<br />
+Bears up, and with his cold hand grasping mine,<br />
+Cries out, how fares my brother &OElig;dipus?<br />
+What, sons and brothers! Sisters and daughters too!<br />
+Fly all, begone, fly from my whirling brain!<br />
+Hence, incest, murder! hence, you ghastly figures!<br />
+O Gods! Gods, answer; is there any mean?<br />
+Let me go mad, or die.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">212</span><a id="page_212" name="page_212"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Jocasta.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Where, where is this most wretched of mankind,<br />
+This stately image of imperial sorrow,<br />
+Whose story told, whose very name but mentioned,<br />
+Would cool the rage of fevers, and unlock<br />
+The hand of lust from the pale virgin's hair,<br />
+And throw the ravisher before her feet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> By all my fears, I think Jocasta's voice!&mdash;<br />
+Hence fly; begone! O thou far worse than worst<br />
+Of damning charmers! O abhorred, loathed creature!<br />
+Fly, by the gods, or by the fiends, I charge thee,<br />
+Far as the East, West, North, or South of heaven,<br />
+But think not thou shalt ever enter there;<br />
+The golden gates are barred with adamant,<br />
+'Gainst thee, and me; and the celestial guards,<br />
+Still as we rise, will dash our spirits down.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O wretched pair! O greatly wretched we!<br />
+Two worlds of woe!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Art thou not gone then? ha!<br />
+How darest thou stand the fury of the gods?<br />
+Or comest thou in the grave to reap new pleasures?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Talk on, till thou mak'st mad my rolling brain;<br />
+Groan still more death; and may those dismal sources<br />
+Still bubble on, and pour forth blood and tears.<br />
+Methinks, at such a meeting, heaven stands still;<br />
+The sea, nor ebbs, nor flows; this mole-hill earth<br />
+Is heaved no more; the busy emmets cease:<br />
+Yet hear me on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak, then, and blast my soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> O, my loved lord, though I resolve a ruin,<br />
+To match my crimes; by all my miseries,<br />
+'Tis horror, worse than thousand thousand deaths,<br />
+To send me hence without a kind farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">213</span><a id="page_213" name="page_213"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Gods, how she shakes me!&mdash;stay thee, O Jocasta!<br />
+Speak something ere thou goest for ever from me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> 'Tis woman's weakness, that I would be pitied;<br />
+Pardon me then, O greatest, though most wretched.<br />
+Of all thy kind! My soul is on the brink,<br />
+And sees the boiling furnace just beneath:<br />
+Do not thou push me off, and I will go,<br />
+With such a willingness, as if that heaven<br />
+With all its glory glowed for my reception.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> O, in my heart I feel the pangs of nature;<br />
+It works with kindness o'er: give, give me way!<br />
+I feel a melting here, a tenderness,<br />
+Too mighty for the anger of the gods!<br />
+Direct me to thy knees: yet, oh forbear,<br />
+Lest the dead embers should revive.<br />
+Stand off, and at just distance<br />
+Let me groan my horrors!&mdash;here<br />
+On the earth, here blow my utmost gale;<br />
+Here sob my sorrows, till I burst with sighing;<br />
+Here gasp and languish out my wounded soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> In spite of all those crimes the cruel gods<br />
+Can charge me with, I know my innocence;<br />
+Know yours. 'Tis fate alone that makes us wretched,<br />
+For you are still my husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Swear I am,<br />
+And I'll believe thee; steal into thy arms,<br />
+Renew endearments, think them no pollutions,<br />
+But chaste as spirits' joys. Gently I'll come,<br />
+Thus weeping blind, like dewy night, upon thee,<br />
+And fold thee softly in my arms to slumber.
+<span class="sdr">[The Ghost of <span class="cnm">Laius</span> ascends by degrees,
+pointing at <span class="cnm">Jocasta.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Begone, my lord! Alas, what are we doing?<br />
+Fly from my arms! Whirlwinds, seas, continents,<br />
+And worlds, divide us! O, thrice happy thou,<br />
+Who hast no use of eyes; for here's a sight<br />
+<span class="pgnm">214</span><a id="page_214" name="page_214"></a>
+Would turn the melting face of mercy's self<br />
+To a wild fury.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! what seest thou there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> The spirit of my husband! O, the gods!<br />
+How wan he looks!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Thou ravest; thy husband's here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> There, there he mounts<br />
+In circling fire among the blushing clouds!<br />
+And see, he waves Jocasta from the world!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ghost.</span> Jocasta, &OElig;dipus.
+<span class="sdr">[Vanish with thunder.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> What wouldst thou have?<br />
+Thou knowest I cannot come to thee, detained<br />
+In darkness here, and kept from means of death.<br />
+I've heard a spirit's force is wonderful;<br />
+At whose approach, when starting from his dungeon,<br />
+The earth does shake, and the old ocean groans,<br />
+Rocks are removed, and towers are thundered down;<br />
+And walls of brass, and gates of adamant<br />
+Are passable as air, and fleet like winds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Was that a raven's croak, or my son's voice?<br />
+No matter which; I'll to the grave and hide me.<br />
+Earth open, or I'll tear thy bowels up.<br />
+Hark! he goes on, and blabs the deed of incest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Strike then, imperial ghost; dash all at once<br />
+This house of clay into a thousand pieces;<br />
+That my poor lingering soul may take her flight<br />
+To your immortal dwellings.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Haste thee, then,<br />
+Or I shall be before thee. See,&mdash;thou canst not see!<br />
+Then I will tell thee that my wings are on.<br />
+I'll mount, I'll fly, and with a port divine<br />
+Glide all along the gaudy milky soil,<br />
+To find my Laius out; ask every god<br />
+In his bright palace, if he knows my Laius,<br />
+My murdered Laius!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Ha! how's this, Jocasta?<br />
+Nay, if thy brain be sick, then thou art happy.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">215</span><a id="page_215" name="page_215"></a>
+<i>Joc.</i> Ha! will you not? shall I not find him out?<br />
+Will you not show him? are my tears despised?<br />
+Why, then I'll thunder, yes, I will be mad,<br />
+And fright you with my cries. Yes, cruel gods,<br />
+Though vultures, eagles, dragons tear my heart,<br />
+I'll snatch celestial flames, fire all your dwellings,<br />
+Melt down your golden roofs, and make your doors<br />
+Of crystal fly from off their diamond hinges;<br />
+Drive you all out from your ambrosial hives,<br />
+To swarm like bees about the field of heaven.<br />
+This will I do, unless you show me Laius,<br />
+My dear, my murdered lord. O Laius! Laius! Laius!
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Jocasta.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Excellent grief! why, this is as it should be!<br />
+No mourning can be suitable to crimes<br />
+Like ours, but what death makes, or madness forms.<br />
+I could have wished, methought, for sight again,<br />
+To mark the gallantry of her distraction;<br />
+Her blazing eyes darting the wandering stars,<br />
+To have seen her mouth the heavens, and mate the gods,<br />
+While with her thundering voice she menaced high,<br />
+And every accent twanged with smarting sorrow;<br />
+But what's all this to thee? thou, coward, yet<br />
+Art living, canst not, wilt not find the road<br />
+To the great palace of magnificent Death;<br />
+Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors,<br />
+Which, day and night, are still unbarred for all.
+<span class="sdr">[Clashing of Swords. Drums and Trumpets without.</span><br />
+Hark! 'tis the noise of clashing swords! the sound<br />
+Comes near;&mdash;O, that a battle would come o'er me!<br />
+If I but grasp a sword, or wrest a dagger,<br />
+I'll make a ruin with the first that falls.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon,</span> with Guards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Seize him, and bear him to the western tower.&mdash;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">216</span><a id="page_216" name="page_216"></a>
+Pardon me, sacred sir; I am informed<br />
+That Creon has designs upon your life:<br />
+Forgive me, then, if, to preserve you from him,<br />
+I order your confinement.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Slaves, unhand me!&mdash;<br />
+I think thou hast a sword;&mdash;'twas the wrong side.<br />
+Yet, cruel Hæmon, think not I will live;<br />
+He, that could tear his eyes out, sure can find<br />
+Some desperate way to stifle this cursed breath:<br />
+Or if I starve!&mdash;but that's a lingering fate;<br />
+Or if I leave my brains upon the wall!&mdash;<br />
+The airy soul can easily o'er-shoot<br />
+Those bounds, with which thou striv'st to pale her in.<br />
+Yes, I will perish in despite of thee;<br />
+And, by the rage that stirs me, if I meet thee<br />
+In the other world, I'll curse thee for this usage.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,<br />
+Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,<br />
+These feuds within; while I without extinguish,<br />
+Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;<br />
+That brand which sets our city in a flame.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period<br />
+To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,<br />
+Shall straight be done.&mdash;Lead, Manto, to the tower.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Tiresias</span> and <span class="cnm">Manto.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Follow me all, and help to part this fray,
+<span class="sdr">[Trumpets again.</span><br />
+Or fall together in the bloody broil.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Creon</span> with <span class="cnm">Eurydice; Pyracmon,</span> and
+his party, giving Ground to <span class="cnm">Adrastus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!<br />
+Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> What would'st thou, hell-hound?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> See this brandished dagger;<br />
+Forego the advantage which thy arms have won.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">217</span><a id="page_217" name="page_217"></a>
+Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart<br />
+Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest,<br />
+I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast,<br />
+This instrument of my revenge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Give order, then, that on this instant, now,<br />
+This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;<br />
+Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!<br />
+Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!<br />
+Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,<br />
+After so bravely having fought his cause,<br />
+To perish by the hand of this base villain?<br />
+Why rather rush you not at once together<br />
+All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,<br />
+Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;<br />
+Nor let my death affright you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Die first thyself, then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> O, I charge thee hold!&mdash;<br />
+Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend<br />
+That disobeys.&mdash;See, art thou now appeased?<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Attendants.</span><br />
+Or is there aught else yet remains to do,<br />
+That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood<br />
+With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save<br />
+Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,<br />
+Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;<br />
+With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.<br />
+For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;<br />
+His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword;<br />
+Lest I be ravished after thou art slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">218</span><a id="page_218" name="page_218"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Do what thou wilt, when she is dead; my soldiers<br />
+With numbers will o'erpower thee. Is't thy wish<br />
+Eurydice should fall before thee?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Traitor, no;<br />
+Better that thou, and I, and all mankind,<br />
+Should be no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Then cast thy sword away,<br />
+And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause.<br />
+My father, when he blest me, gave me this:<br />
+My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge;<br />
+If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee.&mdash;<br />
+Yet love now charms it from me; which in all<br />
+The hazards of my life I never lost.<br />
+'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust;<br />
+Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal.<span class="sdr">[Gives it.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall:<br />
+Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance.<br />
+Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee.&mdash;<br />
+Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch<br />
+The king; hang Hæmon up, for he is loyal,<br />
+And will oppose me.&mdash;Come, sir, are you ready?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Off, madam, or we perish both; behold<br />
+I'm not unarmed, my poniard's in my hand;<br />
+Therefore, away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> I'll guard your life with mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Die both, then; there is now no time for dallying.
+<span class="sdr">[Kills <span class="cnm">Eurydice.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eur.</span> Ah, prince, farewell! farewell, my dear Adrastus!
+<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">219</span><a id="page_219" name="page_219"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Adr.</span> Unheard-of monster! eldest-born of hell!<br />
+Down, to thy primitive flame.<span class="sdr">[Stabs <span class="cnm">Creon.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> Help, soldiers, help;<br />
+Revenge me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> More; yet more; a thousand wounds!<br />
+I'll stamp thee still, thus, to the gaping furies.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Adrastus</span> falls, killed by the soldiers.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hæmon,</span> Guards, with <span class="cnm">Alcander</span> and <span class="cnm">Pyracmon</span>
+bound; the Assassins are driven off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">O Hæmon, I am slain; nor need I name<br />
+The inhuman author of all villainies;<br />
+There he lies gasping.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cre.</span> If I must plunge in flames,<br />
+Burn first my arm; base instrument, unfit<br />
+To act the dictates of my daring mind;<br />
+Burn, burn for ever, O weak substitute<br />
+Of that, the god, ambition.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adr.</span> She's gone;&mdash;O deadly marksman, in the heart!<br />
+Yet in the pangs of death she grasps my hand;<br />
+Her lips too tremble, as if she would speak<br />
+Her last farewell.&mdash;O, &OElig;dipus, thy fall<br />
+Is great; and nobly now thou goest attended!<br />
+They talk of heroes, and celestial beauties,<br />
+And wondrous pleasures in the other world;<br />
+Let me but find her there, I ask no more.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter a Captain to <span class="cnm">Hæmon;</span> with <span class="cnm">Teresias</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Manto.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cap.</span> O, sir, the queen Jocasta, swift and wild,<br />
+As a robbed tygress bounding o'er the woods,<br />
+Has acted murders that amaze mankind;<br />
+In twisted gold I saw her daughters hang<br />
+On the bed-royal, and her little sons<br />
+Stabbed through the breasts upon the bloody pillows.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> Relentless heavens! is then the fate of Laius<br />
+Never to be atoned? How sacred ought<br />
+<span class="pgnm">220</span><a id="page_220" name="page_220"></a>
+Kings' lives be held, when but the death of one<br />
+Demands an empire's blood for expiation!<br />
+But see! the furious mad Jocasta's here.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Scene draws, and discovers <span class="cnm">Jocasta</span> held by her women
+and stabbed in many places of her Bosom, her
+Hair dishevelled, her Children slain upon the Bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Was ever yet a sight of so much horror<br />
+And pity brought to view!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> Ah, cruel women!<br />
+Will you not let me take my last farewell<br />
+Of those dear babes? O let me run, and seal<br />
+My melting soul upon their bubbling wounds!<br />
+I'll print upon their coral mouths such kisses,<br />
+As shall recal their wandering spirits home.<br />
+Let me go, let me go, or I will tear you piece-meal.<br />
+Help, Hæmon, help;<br />
+Help, &OElig;dipus; help, Gods; Jocasta dies.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&OElig;dipus</span> above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> I've found a window, and I thank the gods<br />
+'Tis quite unbarred; sure, by the distant noise,<br />
+The height will fit my fatal purpose well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Joc.</span> What hoa, my &OElig;dipus! see where he stands!<br />
+His groping ghost is lodged upon a tower,<br />
+Nor can it find the road. Mount, mount, my soul;<br />
+I'll wrap thy shivering spirit in lambent flames; and so we'll sail.&mdash;<br />
+But see! we're landed on the happy coast;<br />
+And all the golden strands are covered o'er<br />
+With glorious gods, that come to try our cause.<br />
+Jove, Jove, whose majesty now sinks me down,<br />
+He, who himself burns in unlawful fires,<br />
+Shall judge, and shall acquit us. O, 'tis done;<br />
+'Tis fixt by fate, upon record divine;<br />
+And &OElig;dipus shall now be ever mine.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">221</span><a id="page_221" name="page_221"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Speak, Hæmon; what has fate been doing there?<br />
+What dreadful deed has mad Jocasta done?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> The queen herself, and all your wretched offspring,<br />
+Are by her fury slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> By all my woes,<br />
+She has outdone me in revenge and murder,<br />
+And I should envy her the sad applause:<br />
+But oh, my children! oh, what have they done?<br />
+This was not like the mercy of the heavens,<br />
+To set her madness on such cruelty:<br />
+This stirs me more than all my sufferings,<br />
+And with my last breath I must call you tyrants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> What mean you, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&OElig;dip.</span> Jocasta! lo, I come.<br />
+O Laius, Labdacus, and all you spirits<br />
+Of the Cadmean race, prepare to meet me,<br />
+All weeping ranged along the gloomy shore;<br />
+Extend your arms to embrace me, for I come.<br />
+May all the gods, too, from their battlements,<br />
+Behold and wonder at a mortal's daring;<br />
+And, when I knock the goal of dreadful death,<br />
+Shout and applaud me with a clap of thunder.<br />
+Once more, thus winged by horrid fate, I come,<br />
+Swift as a falling meteor; lo, I fly,<br />
+And thus go downwards to the darker sky.
+<span class="sdr">[Thunder. He flings himself from the Window:
+The Thebans gather about his Body.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hæm.</span> O prophet, &OElig;dipus is now no more!<br />
+O cursed effect of the most deep despair!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tir.</span> Cease your complaints, and bear his body hence;<br />
+The dreadful sight will daunt the drooping Thebans,<br />
+Whom heaven decrees to raise with peace and glory.<br />
+Yet, by these terrible examples warned,<br />
+The sacred Fury thus alarms the world:&mdash;<br />
+Let none, though ne'er so virtuous, great, and high,<br />
+Be judged entirely blest before they die.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-1" name="OEdip_4-1"></a>Imitated from the commencement of the plague in the first
+book of the <i>Iliad</i>.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-2" name="OEdip_4-2"></a>The story of the Sphinx is generally known: She was a monster,
+who delighted in putting a riddle to the Thebans, and slaying each
+poor dull B&oelig;otian, who could not interpret it. &OElig;dipus guessed
+the enigma, on which the monster destroyed herself for shame.
+Thus he attained the throne of Thebes, and the bed of Jocasta.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-3" name="OEdip_4-3"></a>To <i>dare a lark</i>, is to fly a hawk, or present some other object
+of fear, to engage the bird's attention, and prevent it from taking
+wing, while the fowler draws his net:<br /><br />
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Farewell, nobility; let his grace go forward,</p>
+<p>And dare us with his cap, like larks.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Henry VIII.</i> Act III. Scene II.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-4" name="OEdip_4-4"></a>The carelessness of &OElig;dipus about the fate of his predecessor
+is very unnatural; but to such expedients dramatists are often
+reduced, to communicate to their audience what must have been
+known to the persons of the drama.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-5" name="OEdip_4-5"></a><i>Start</i> is here, and in p. 136, used for <i>started</i>, being borrowed
+from <i>sterte</i>, the old perfect of the verb.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-6" name="OEdip_4-6"></a>It is a common idea, that falling stars, as they are called, are
+converted into a sort of jelly. "Among the rest, I had often the
+opportunity to see the seeming shooting of the stars from place to
+place, and sometimes they appeared as if falling to the ground,
+where I once or twice found a white jelly-like matter among the
+grass, which I imagined to be distilled from them; and hence
+foolishly conjectured, that the stars themselves must certainly
+consist of a like substance."</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-7" name="OEdip_4-7"></a>Serpens, serpentem vorans, fit draco. Peccata, peccatis superaddita,
+monstra fiunt. <i>Hieroglyphica animalium, per Archibaldum
+Simsonum Dalkethensis Ecclesiæ pastorem, p. 95.</i></li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-8" name="OEdip_4-8"></a>The idea of this sacred grove seems to be taken from that of
+Colonus near Athens, dedicated to the Eumenides, which gives
+name to Sophocles's second tragedy. Seneca describes the scene
+of the incantation in the following lines:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p class="i1">Est procul ab urbe lucus illicibus niger</p>
+<p>Dircæa circa vallis irriguæ loca.</p>
+<p>Cupressus altis exerens silvis caput</p>
+<p>Virente semper alligat trunco nemus;</p>
+<p>Curvosque tendit quercus et putres situ</p>
+<p>Annosa ramos: hujus abrupit latus</p>
+<p>Edax vetustas: illa jam fessa cadens</p>
+<p>Radice, fulta pendet aliena trabe.</p>
+<p>Amara baccas laurus; et tiliæ leves</p>
+<p>Et Paphia myrtus; et per immensum mare</p>
+<p>Motura remos alnus; et Ph&oelig;bo obvia</p>
+<p>Enode Zephyris pinus opponens latus.</p>
+<p>Medio stat ingens arbor, atque umbra gravi</p>
+<p>Silvas minores urget; et magno ambitu</p>
+<p>Diffusa ramos, una defendit nemus.</p>
+<p>Tristis sub illa, lucis et Ph&oelig;bi inscius</p>
+<p>Restagnat humor, frigore æterno rigens.</p>
+<p>Limosa pigrum circuit fontem palus.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Actus Tertius. Scena prima.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>This diffuse account of the different kinds of forest trees, which
+composed the enchanted grove, is very inartificially put into
+the mouth of Creon, who, notwithstanding the horrible message
+which he has to deliver to &OElig;dipus from the ghost, finds time to
+solace the king with this long description of a place, which he
+doubtless knew as well as Creon himself. Dryden, on the contrary,
+has, with great address, rendered the description necessary,
+by the violence committed within the sacred precinct, and
+turned it, not upon minute and rhetorical detail, but upon the general
+awful properties of this consecrated ground. Lucan's fine description
+of the Massyllian forest, and that of the enchanted grove
+in Tasso, have been both consulted by our author.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-9" name="OEdip_4-9"></a>The quarrel betwixt &OElig;dipus and the prophet, who announces
+his guilt, is imitated from a similar scene in the &OElig;dipus Tyrannus.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_4-10" name="OEdip_4-10"></a>Borrowed from Shakespeare;<br /><br />
+<div class="poem">
+<p>And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Richard II.</i></p>
+</div>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">222</span><a id="page_222" name="page_222"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>What Sophocles could undertake alone,</p>
+<p>Our poets found a work for more than one;</p>
+<p>And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,</p>
+<p>With all their force, to draw the ponderous mass from Greece;</p>
+<p>A weight that bent even Seneca's strong muse,</p>
+<p>And which Corneille's shoulders did refuse.</p>
+<p>So hard it is the Athenian harp to string!</p>
+<p>So much two consuls yield to one just king.</p>
+<p>Terror and pity this whole poem sway;</p>
+<p>The mightiest machines that can mount a play.</p>
+<p>How heavy will those vulgar souls be found,</p>
+<p>Whom two such engines cannot move from ground!</p>
+<p>When Greece and Rome have smiled upon this birth,</p>
+<p>You can but damn for one poor spot of earth;</p>
+<p>And when your children find your judgment such,</p>
+<p>They'll scorn their sires, and wish themselves born Dutch;</p>
+<p>Each haughty poet will infer with ease,</p>
+<p>How much his wit must under-write to please.</p>
+<p>As some strong churl would, brandishing, advance</p>
+<p>The monumental sword that conquered France;</p>
+<p>So you, by judging this, your judgment teach,</p>
+<p>Thus far you like, that is, thus far you reach.</p>
+<p>Since then the vote of full two thousand years</p>
+<p>Has crowned this plot, and all the dead are theirs,</p>
+<p>Think it a debt you pay, not alms you give,</p>
+<p>And, in your own defence, let this play live.</p>
+<p>Think them not vain, when Sophocles is shown,</p>
+<p>To praise his worth they humbly doubt their own.</p>
+<p>Yet as weak states each other's power assure,</p>
+<p>Weak poets by conjunction are secure.</p>
+<p>Their treat is what your palates relish most,</p>
+<p>Charm! song! and show! a murder and a ghost!</p>
+<p>We know not what you can desire or hope,</p>
+<p>To please you more, but burning of a Pope.<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_5-1">[1]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="OEdip_5-1" name="OEdip_5-1"></a><p>The burning a Pope in effigy, was a ceremony performed upon the
+anniversary of queen Elizabeth's coronation. When parties ran high betwixt
+the courtiers and opposition, in the latter part of Charles the II. reign,
+these anti-papal solemnities were conducted by the latter, with great
+state and expence, and employed as engines to excite the popular resentment
+against the duke of York, and his religion. The following curious
+<span class="pgnm">223</span><a id="page_223" name="page_223"></a>
+Footnote: description of one of these tumultuary processions, in 1679, was extracted
+by Ralph, from a very scarce pamphlet; it is the ceremony referred to in
+the epilogue; and it shall be given at length, as the subject is frequently
+alluded to by Dryden.<br /><br /></p>
+
+<table summary="Burning of a pope">
+<caption><i>The Solemn Mock Procession of the</i>&nbsp;<b>POPE,</b>&nbsp;<i>Cardinals, Friars, &amp;c.<br />
+Through the</i> CITY OF LONDON <i>November 17.<sup>th</sup> 1679.</i></caption>
+<tr><td><a href="images/pic8lg.jpg" target="_blank" title="Click for larger version"><!--
+--><img src="images/pic8sm.jpg" height="450" width="800" alt="The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinals, Friars, &amp;c." /></a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>"On the said 17th of November, 1679, the bells, generally, about the
+town, began to ring at three o'clock in the morning. At the approach of
+the evening, (all things being in readiness) the solemn procession began,
+setting forth from Moregate, and so passed, first to Aldgate, and thence
+through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal Exchange, through Cheapside,
+and so to Temple-bar in the ensuing order, viz.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>"Came six whifflers, to clear the way, in pioneer caps, and red
+waistcoats.</li>
+
+<li>"A bellman ringing, and with a loud (but doleful) voice, crying out
+all the way, remember Justice Godfrey.</li>
+
+<li>"A dead body, representing justice Godfrey, in a decent black habit,
+carried before a jesuit, in black, on horse-back, in like manner as he
+was carried by the assassins to Primrose Hill.</li>
+
+<li>"Next after Sir Edmonbury, so mounted, came a priest in a surplice,
+with a cope embroidered with dead bones, skeletons, skulls, and
+the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all those who should murder
+protestants; and proclaiming it meritorious.</li>
+
+<li>"Then a priest in black alone, with a great silver cross.</li>
+
+<li>"Four carmelites, in white and black habits.</li>
+
+<li>"Four grey-friars, in the proper habits of their order.</li>
+
+<li>"Six jesuits, with bloody daggers.</li>
+
+<li>"A concert of wind music.</li>
+
+<li>"Four bishops, in purple, and lawn sleeves, with a golden crosier
+on their breast, and crosier-staves in their hands.</li>
+
+<li>"Four other bishops, in <i>Pontificalibus</i>, with surplices, and rich
+embroidered copes, and golden mitres on their heads.</li>
+
+<li>"Six cardinals, in scarlet robes and caps.</li>
+
+<li>"The Pope's doctor, <i>i.e.</i> Wakeman,<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_5-1a">[a]</a> with jesuits-powder in one
+hand, and an urinal in the other.</li>
+
+<li>"Two priests in surplices, with two golden crosses.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>"Lastly, The Pope, in a lofty, glorious pageant, representing a chair of
+state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and fringed, and bedecked
+with golden balls and crosses: At his feet a cushion of state, and two
+boys in surplices with white silk banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers
+with an incense pot before them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed
+in a splendid scarlet gown, lined through with ermin, and richly
+daubed with gold and silver lace; on his head a triple crown of gold,
+and a glorious collar of gold and precious stones, St Peter's keys, a number
+of beads, agnus deis, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his
+holiness's privy counsellor, the degraded Seraphim, (<i>anglice</i> the devil,)
+frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and oft times instructing
+him aloud to destroy his majesty, to forge a protestant plot, and to fire
+the city again, to which purpose he held an infernal torch in his hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pgnm">224</span><a id="page_224" name="page_224"></a>
+"The whole procession was attended with 150 flambeaux and lights, by
+order; but so many more came in volunteers, as made up some thousands.</p>
+
+<p>"Never were the balconies, windows, and houses more numerously
+lined, or the streets closer throng'd with multitudes of people, all expressing
+their abhorrence of Popery, with continual shouts and exclamations;
+so that 'tis modestly computed, that, in the whole progress, there
+could not be fewer than two hundred thousand spectators.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus with a slow, and solemn state, they proceeded to Temple Bar;
+where with innumerable swarms, the houses seemed to be converted
+into heaps of men, and women, and children, for whose diversion there
+were provided great variety of excellent fireworks.</p>
+
+<p>"Temple Bar being, since its rebuilding, adorned with four stately
+statues, viz. those of Queen Elizabeth and King James, on the inward,
+or eastern side, fronting the city; and those of King Charles the I. of
+blessed memory, and our present gracious sovereign, (whom God, in
+mercy to these nations, long preserve!) on the outside, facing towards
+Westminster; and the statue of Queen Elizabeth in regard to the day,
+having on a crown of gilded laurel, and in her hand a golden shield,
+with this motto inscribed: <i>The Protestant Religion, and Magna Charta</i>,
+and flambeaux placed before it. The Pope being brought up near thereunto,
+the following song, alluding to the posture of those statues, was
+sung in parts, between one representing the English Cardinal (<i>Howard</i>)<a class="ftnt" href="#OEdip_5-1b">[b]</a>
+and others acting the people:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>CARDINAL NORFOLK.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>From York to London town we come,</p>
+<p class="i1">To talk of Popish ire,</p>
+<p>To reconcile you all to Rome,</p>
+<p class="i1">And prevent Smithfield fire.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h4>PLEBEIANS.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Cease, cease, thou Norfolk Cardinal,</p>
+<p class="i1">See yonder stands Queen Bess;</p>
+<p>Who sav'd our souls from Popish thrall:</p>
+<p class="i1">O Queen Bess, Queen Bess, Queen Bess!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Your Popish plot, and Smithfield threat,</p>
+<p class="i1">We do not fear at all;</p>
+<p>For lo! beneath Queen Bess's feet,</p>
+<p class="i1">You fall, you fall, you fall.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"'Tis true, our King's on t'other side,</p>
+<p class="i1">A looking tow'rds Whitehall:</p>
+<p>But could we bring him round about;</p>
+<p class="i1">He'd counterplot you all.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pgnm">225</span><a id="page_225" name="page_225"></a>
+<p>"Then down with James, and set up Charles,</p>
+<p class="i1">On good Queen Bess's side;</p>
+<p>That all true Commons, Lords, and Earls,</p>
+<p class="i1">May wish him a fruitfull bride."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Now God preserve great Charles our King,</p>
+<p class="i1">And eke all honest men;</p>
+<p>And traitors all to justice bring:</p>
+<p class="i1">Amen, Amen, Amen.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Then having entertained the thronging spectators for some time,
+with the ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared, just over
+against the inner temple gate, his holiness, after some compliments and
+reluctancies, was decently toppled from all his grandeur, into the impartial
+flames; the crafty devil leaving his infallibilityship in the lurch,
+and laughing as heartily at his deserved ignominious end, as subtle jesuits
+do at the ruin of bigotted Lay Catholics, whom themselves have
+drawn in; or, as credulous Coleman's abettors did, when, with pretences
+of a reprieve at last gasp, they had made him vomit up his soul with
+a lye, and sealed his dangerous chops with a halter. This justice was attended
+with a prodigious shout, that might be heard far beyond Somerset-house;
+and 'twas believed the echo, by continued reverberations, before
+it ceased, reached <i>Scotland</i>, (the Duke was then there;) France,
+and even Rome, itself, damping them all with a dreadfull astonishment."</p>
+
+<p>From a very rare broadside, in the collection made by Narcissus
+Luttrell.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol style="list-style-type: lower-alpha;">
+<li><a id="OEdip_5-1a" name="OEdip_5-1a"></a>Sir George Wakeman was physician to the queen, and a catholic. He
+was tried for the memorable Popish plot and acquitted, the credit of the
+witnesses being now blasted, by the dying declarations of those who suffered.</li>
+
+<li><a id="OEdip_5-1b" name="OEdip_5-1b"></a>Philip, the 3d son of Henry Earl of Arundel, and brother to the Duke
+of Norfolk, created a Cardinal in 1675. He was a second cousin of Lady
+Elizabeth Howard, afterwards the wife of our poet.</li>
+</ol></div>
+</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">226</span><a id="page_226" name="page_226"></a></div>
+<div>[Blank Page]</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><span class="pgnm">227</span><a id="page_227" name="page_227"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">TROILUS AND CRESSIDA:</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OR,</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">TRUTH FOUND TOO LATE.</h3>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+TRAGEDY.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p><i>Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,<br />
+Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus.</i></p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Hor.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">228</span><a id="page_228" name="page_228"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.</h3>
+
+<p>The story of Troilus and Cressida was one of the more modern
+fables, engrafted, during the dark ages, on "the tale of Troy divine."
+Chaucer, who made it the subject of a long and somewhat dull
+poem, professes to have derived his facts from an author of the
+middle ages, called Lollius, to whom he often refers, and who he
+states to have written in Latin. Tyrwhitt disputes the existence
+of this personage, and supposes Chaucer's original to have been the
+<i>Philostrato dell' amorose fatiche de Troilo,</i> a work of Boccacio.
+But Chaucer was never reluctant in acknowledging obligations to
+his contemporaries, when such really existed; and Mr Tyrwhitt's
+opinion seems to be successfully combated by Mr Godwin, in his
+"Life of Chaucer." The subject, whencesoever derived, was
+deemed by Shakespeare worthy of the stage; and his tragedy,
+of Troilus and Cressida, contains so many scenes of distinguished
+excellence, that it could have been wished our author had mentioned
+it with more veneration. In truth, even the partiality of an
+editor must admit, that on this occasion, the modern improvements
+of Dryden shew to very little advantage beside the venerable structure
+to which they have been attached. The arrangement of the
+plot is, indeed, more artificially modelled; but the preceding age,
+during which the infidelity of Cressida was proverbially current,
+could as little have endured a catastrophe turning upon the discovery
+of her innocence, as one which should have exhibited Helen
+chaste, or Hector a coward. In Dryden's time, the prejudice
+against this unfortunate female was probably forgotten, as her
+history had become less popular. There appears, however, something
+too nice and fastidious in the critical rule, which exacts that
+the hero and heroine of the drama shall be models of virtuous perfection.
+In the most interesting of the ancient plays we find this
+limitation neglected, with great success; and it would have been
+more natural to have brought about the catastrophe on the plan
+of Shakespeare and Chaucer, than by the forced mistake in which
+Dryden's lovers are involved, and the stale expedient of Cressida's
+killing herself, to evince her innocence. For the superior order,
+and regard to the unity of place, with which Dryden has new-modelled
+the scenes and entries, he must be allowed the full praise
+which he claims in the preface.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pgnm">229</span><a id="page_229" name="page_229"></a>
+In the dialogue, considered as distinct from the plot, Dryden
+appears not to have availed himself fully of the treasures of his
+predecessor. He has pitilessly retrenched the whole scene, in
+the 3d act, between Ulysses and Achilles, full of the purest and
+most admirable moral precept, expressed in the most poetical and
+dignified language<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_1-1">[1]</a>. Probably this omission arose from Dryden's
+desire to simplify the plot, by leaving out the intrigues of the Grecian
+chiefs, and limiting the interest to the amours of Troilus and
+<span class="pgnm">230</span><a id="page_230" name="page_230"></a>
+Cressida. But he could not be insensible to the merit of this
+scene, though he has supplied it by one far inferior, in which
+Ulysses is introduced, using gross flattery to the buffoon Thersites.
+In the latter part of the play, Dryden has successfully exerted
+his own inventive powers. The quarrelling scene between
+Hector and Troilus is very impressive, and no bad imitation
+of that betwixt Brutus and Cassius, with which Dryden seems
+to have been so much charmed, and which he has repeatedly
+striven to emulate. The parting of Hector and Andromache contains
+some affecting passages, some of which may be traced back
+to Homer; although the pathos, upon the whole, is far inferior to
+that of the noted scene in the Iliad, and destitute of the noble simplicity
+of the Grecian bard.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Godwin has justly remarked, that the delicacy of Chaucer's
+ancient tale has suffered even in the hands of Shakespeare; but in
+those of Dryden it has undergone a far deeper deterioration.
+Whatever is coarse and naked in Shakespeare, has been dilated into
+ribaldry by the poet laureat of Charles the second; and the character
+of Pandarus, in particular, is so grossly heightened, as to
+disgrace even the obliging class to whom that unfortunate procurer
+has bequeathed his name. So far as this play is to be considered
+as an alteration of Shakespeare, I fear it must be allowed, that our
+author has suppressed some of his finest poetry, and exaggerated
+some of his worst faults.</p>
+
+<p>Troilus and Cressida was published in 1679.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Troil_1-1" name="Troil_1-1"></a>I need only recall to the reader's remembrance the following beautiful
+passage, inculcating the unabating energy necessary to maintain, in the race
+of life, the ground which has been already gained.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,<br />
+Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,<br />
+A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:<br />
+These scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd<br />
+As fast as they are made, forgot as soon<br />
+As done: Perséverance, dear my lord,<br />
+Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang<br />
+Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail<br />
+In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;<br />
+For honour travels in a strait so narrow,<br />
+Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;<br />
+For emulation hath a thousand sons,<br />
+That one by one pursue: If you give way,<br />
+Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,<br />
+Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,<br />
+And leave you hindmost.&mdash;<br />
+Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,<br />
+Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,<br />
+O'er run and trampled on: Then what they do in present,<br />
+Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:<br />
+For time is like a fashionable host,<br />
+That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;<br />
+And with his arms out stretch'd, as he would fly,<br />
+Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,<br />
+And Farewel goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek<br />
+Remuneration for the thing it was;<br />
+For beauty, wit,<br />
+High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,<br />
+Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all<br />
+To envious and calumniating time.<br />
+One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,&mdash;<br />
+That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,<br />
+Though they are made and moulded of things past;<br />
+And give to dust, that is a little gilt,<br />
+More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.<br />
+The present eye praises the present object:<br />
+Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,<br />
+That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;<br />
+Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,<br />
+Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,<br />
+And still it might, and yet it may again,<br />
+If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,<br />
+And case thy reputation in thy tent;<br />
+Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,<br />
+Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,<br />
+And drave great Mars to faction.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">231</span><a id="page_231" name="page_231"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+ROBERT,<br />
+EARL OF SUNDERLAND<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_2-1">[1]</a>,<br />
+PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE,<br />
+ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S
+MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY-COUNCIL, &amp;C.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind smcap">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>Since I cannot promise you much of poetry in my
+play, it is but reasonable that I should secure you
+from any part of it in my dedication. And indeed
+I cannot better distinguish the exactness of your
+taste from that of other men, than by the plainness
+and sincerity of my address. I must keep my
+hyperboles in reserve for men of other understandings.
+<span class="pgnm">232</span><a id="page_232" name="page_232"></a>
+An hungry appetite after praise, and a strong
+digestion of it, will bear the grossness of that diet;
+but one of so critical a judgment as your lordship,
+who can set the bounds of just and proper in every
+subject, would give me small encouragement for so
+bold an undertaking. I more than suspect, my
+lord, that you would not do common justice to
+yourself; and, therefore, were I to give that character
+of you, which I think you truly merit, I
+would make my appeal from your lordship to the
+reader, and would justify myself from flattery by
+the public voice, whatever protestation you might
+enter to the contrary. But I find I am to take
+other measures with your lordship; I am to stand
+upon my guard with you, and to approach you as
+warily as Horace did Augustus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Cui malè si palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">An ill-timed, or an extravagant commendation,
+would not pass upon you; but you would keep off
+such a dedicator at arms-end, and send him back
+with his encomiums to this lord, or that lady, who
+stood in need of such trifling merchandise. You
+see, my lord, what an awe you have upon me, when
+I dare not offer you that incense which would be
+acceptable to other patrons; but am forced to
+curb myself from ascribing to you those honours,
+which even an enemy could not deny you. Yet I
+must confess, I never practised that virtue of moderation
+(which is properly your character) with so
+much reluctancy as now: for it hinders me from
+being true to my own knowledge, in not witnessing
+your worth, and deprives me of the only means
+which I had left, to shew the world that true honour
+and uninterested respect which I have always
+paid you. I would say somewhat, if it were possible
+which might distinguish that veneration I have
+<span class="pgnm">233</span><a id="page_233" name="page_233"></a>
+for you, from the flatteries of those who adore your
+fortune. But the eminence of your condition, in
+this particular, is my unhappiness; for it renders
+whatever I would say suspected. Professions of
+service, submissions, and attendance, are the practice
+of all men to the great; and commonly they,
+who have the least sincerity, perform them best; as
+they, who are least engaged in love, have their
+tongues the freest to counterfeit a passion. For my
+own part, I never could shake off the rustic bashfulness
+which hangs upon my nature; but, valuing
+myself at as little as I am worth, have been afraid
+to render even the common duties of respect to
+those who are in power. The ceremonious visits,
+which are generally paid on such occasions, are not
+my talent. They may be real even in courtiers, but
+they appear with such a face of interest, that a modest
+man would think himself in danger of having
+his sincerity mistaken for his design. My congratulations
+keep their distance, and pass no farther
+than my heart. There it is that I have all the joy
+imaginable, when I see true worth rewarded, and
+virtue uppermost in the world.</p>
+
+<p>If, therefore, there were one to whom I had the
+honour to be known; and to know him so perfectly,
+that I could say, without flattery, he had all the
+depth of understanding that was requisite in an able
+statesman, and all that honesty which commonly is
+wanting; that he was brave without vanity, and
+knowing without positiveness; that he was loyal
+to his prince, and a lover of his country; that his
+principles were full of moderation, and all his counsels
+such as tended to heal, and not to widen, the
+breaches of the nation: that in all his conversation
+there appeared a native candour, and a desire of doing
+good in all his actions: if such an one, whom I
+have described, were at the helm; if he had risen
+<span class="pgnm">234</span><a id="page_234" name="page_234"></a>
+by his merits, and were chosen out in the necessity
+and pressures of affairs, to remedy our confusions
+by the seasonableness of his advice, and to put a stop
+to our ruin, when we were just rolling downward
+to the precipice; I should then congratulate the age
+in which I live, for the common safety; I should
+not despair of the republic, though Hannibal were
+at the gates; I should send up my vows for the
+success of such an action, as Virgil did, on the like
+occasion, for his patron, when he was raising up his
+country from the desolations of a civil war:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo</p>
+<p>Ne, superi, prohibete.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I know not whither I am running, in this extacy
+which is now upon me: I am almost ready to re-assume
+the ancient rights of poetry; to point out, and
+prophecy the man, who was born for no less an undertaking,
+and whom posterity shall bless for its
+accomplishment. Methinks, I am already taking
+fire from such a character, and making room for him,
+under a borrowed name, amongst the heroes of an
+epic poem. Neither could mine, or some more happy
+genius, want encouragement under such a patron:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Pollio amat nostram, quamvis sit rustica, musam.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But these are considerations afar off, my lord:
+the former part of the prophecy must be first accomplished;
+the quiet of the nation must be secured;
+and a mutual trust, betwixt prince and people, be
+renewed; and then this great and good man will
+have leisure for the ornaments of peace; and make
+our language as much indebted to his care, as the
+French is to the memory of their famous Richelieu<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_2-2">[2]</a>.
+<span class="pgnm">235</span><a id="page_235" name="page_235"></a>
+You know, my lord, how low he laid the foundations
+of so great a work; that he began it with a
+grammar and a dictionary; without which all those
+remarks and observations, which have since been
+made, had been performed to as little purpose, as it
+would be to consider the furniture of the rooms,
+before the contrivance of the house. Propriety
+must first be stated, ere any measures of elegance
+can be taken. Neither is one Vaugelas sufficient
+for such a work<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_2-3">[3]</a>. It was the employment of the
+whole academy for many years; for the perfect
+knowledge of a tongue was never attained by any
+single person. The court, the college, and the
+town, must be joined in it. And as our English
+is a composition of the dead and living tongues,
+there is required a perfect knowledge, not only of the
+Greek and Latin, but of the old German, the French,
+and the Italian; and, to help all these, a conversation
+with those authors of our own, who have
+written with the fewest faults in prose and verse.
+But how barbarously we yet write and speak, your
+lordship knows, and I am sufficiently sensible in my
+own English. For I am often put to a stand, in
+considering whether what I write be the idiom of
+the tongue, or false grammar, and nonsense couched
+beneath that specious name of Anglicism; and
+have no other way to clear my doubts, but by
+translating my English into Latin, and thereby
+trying what sense the words will bear in a more
+stable language. I am desirous, if it were possible,
+that we might all write with the same certainty of
+words, and purity of phrase, to which the Italians
+first arrived, and after them the French; at least
+that we might advance so far, as our tongue is capable
+of such a standard. It would mortify an
+<span class="pgnm">236</span><a id="page_236" name="page_236"></a>
+Englishman to consider, that from the time of
+Boccace and of Petrarch, the Italian has varied
+very little; and that the English of Chaucer, their
+contemporary, is not to be understood without the
+help of an old dictionary. But their Goth and
+Vandal had the fortune to be grafted on a Roman
+stock; ours has the disadvantage to be founded on
+the Dutch<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_2-4">[4]</a>. We are full of monosyllables, and those
+clogged with consonants, and our pronunciation is
+effeminate; all which are enemies to a sounding
+language. It is true, that to supply our poverty,
+we have trafficked with our neighbour nations; by
+which means we abound as much in words, as Amsterdam
+does in religions; but to order them, and
+make them useful after their admission, is the difficulty.
+A greater progress has been made in this,
+since his majesty's return, than, perhaps, since the
+conquest to his time. But the better part of the
+work remains unfinished; and that which has been
+done already, since it has only been in the practice
+of some few writers, must be digested into rules
+and method, before it can be profitable to the general.
+Will your lordship give me leave to speak
+out at last? and to acquaint the world, that from
+your encouragement and patronage, we may one
+day expect to speak and write a language, worthy
+of the English wit, and which foreigners may not
+disdain to learn? Your birth, your education, your
+natural endowments, the former employments which
+you have had abroad, and that which, to the joy of
+good men you now exercise at home, seem all to
+conspire to this design: the genius of the nation
+seems to call you out as it were by name, to polish
+and adorn your native language, and to take from
+it the reproach of its barbarity. It is upon this
+<span class="pgnm">237</span><a id="page_237" name="page_237"></a>
+encouragement that I have adventured on the following
+critique, which I humbly present you, together
+with the play; in which, though I have
+not had the leisure, nor indeed the encouragement,
+to proceed to the principal subject of it, which is
+the words and thoughts that are suitable to tragedy;
+yet the whole discourse has a tendency that way,
+and is preliminary to it. In what I have already
+done, I doubt not but I have contradicted some of
+my former opinions, in my loose essays of the like
+nature; but of this, I dare affirm, that it is the
+fruit of my riper age and experience, and that self-love,
+or envy have no part in it. The application
+to English authors is my own, and therein, perhaps,
+I may have erred unknowingly; but the foundation
+of the rules is reason, and the authority of
+those living critics who have had the honour to be
+known to you abroad, as well as of the ancients,
+who are not less of your acquaintance. Whatsoever
+it be, I submit it to your lordship's judgment,
+from which I never will appeal, unless it be to your
+good nature, and your candour. If you can allow
+an hour of leisure to the perusal of it, I shall be
+fortunate that I could so long entertain you; if
+not, I shall at least have the satisfaction to know,
+that your time was more usefully employed upon
+the public. I am,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1 smcap">My Lord,</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Your Lordship's most Obedient,</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Humble Servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i4 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Troil_2-1" name="Troil_2-1"></a>This was the famous Earl of Sunderland, who, being a Tory
+under the reign of Charles, a Papist in that of his successor, and
+a Whig in that of William, was a favourite minister of all these
+monarchs. He was a man of eminent abilities; and our author
+shews a high opinion of his taste, by abstaining from the gross flattery,
+which was then the fashionable stile of dedication.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Troil_2-2" name="Troil_2-2"></a>Alluding to the institution of an academy for fixing the language,
+often proposed about this period.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Troil_2-3" name="Troil_2-3"></a>Author of a treatise on the French language.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Troil_2-4" name="Troil_2-4"></a>Dutch is here used generally for the High Dutch or German.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">238</span><a id="page_238" name="page_238"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">THE
+PREFACE.</h3>
+
+<p>The poet &AElig;schylus was held in the same veneration
+by the Athenians of after-ages, as Shakespeare
+is by us; and Longinus has judged, in favour of
+him, that he had a noble boldness of expression,
+and that his imaginations were lofty and heroic;
+but, on the other side, Quintilian affirms, that he
+was daring to extravagance. It is certain, that he
+affected pompous words, and that his sense was obscured
+by figures; notwithstanding these imperfections,
+the value of his writings after his decease was
+such, that his countrymen ordained an equal reward
+to those poets, who could alter his plays to be
+acted on the theatre, with those whose productions
+were wholly new, and of their own. The case is
+not the same in England; though the difficulties
+of altering are greater, and our reverence for Shakespeare
+much more just, than that of the Grecians
+for &AElig;schylus. In the age of that poet, the Greek
+tongue was arrived to its full perfection; they had
+<span class="pgnm">239</span><a id="page_239" name="page_239"></a>
+then amongst them an exact standard of writing
+and of speaking: the English language is not capable
+of such a certainty; and we are at present so
+far from it, that we are wanting in the very foundation
+of it, a perfect grammar. Yet it must be
+allowed to the present age, that the tongue in general
+is so much refined since Shakespeare's time,
+that many of his words, and more of his phrases,
+are scarce intelligible. And of those which we understand,
+some are ungrammatical, others coarse;
+and his whole style is so pestered with figurative
+expressions, that it is as affected as it is obscure.
+It is true, that in his latter plays he had worn off
+somewhat of the rust; but the tragedy, which I
+have undertaken to correct, was in all probability
+one of his first endeavours on the stage.</p>
+
+<p>The original story was written by one Lollius a
+Lombard, in Latin verse, and translated by Chaucer
+into English; intended, I suppose, a satire on
+the inconstancy of women: I find nothing of it
+among the ancients; not so much as the name
+Cressida once mentioned. Shakespeare, (as I hinted)
+in the apprenticeship of his writing, modelled
+it into that play, which is now called by the name
+of "Troilus and Cressida," but so lamely is it left
+to us, that it is not divided into acts; which fault
+I ascribe to the actors who printed it after Shakespeare's
+death; and that too so carelessly, that a
+more uncorrected copy I never saw. For the play
+itself, the author seems to have begun it with some
+fire; the characters of Pandarus and Thersites, are
+promising enough; but as if he grew weary of his
+task, after an entrance or two, he lets them fall:
+and the latter part of the tragedy is nothing but a
+confusion of drums and trumpets, excursions and
+alarms. The chief persons, who give name to the
+tragedy, are left alive; Cressida is false, and is not
+<span class="pgnm">240</span><a id="page_240" name="page_240"></a>
+punished. Yet, after all, because the play was
+Shakespeare's, and that there appeared in some
+places of it the admirable genius of the author, I
+undertook to remove that heap of rubbish under
+which many excellent thoughts lay wholly buried.
+Accordingly, I new modelled the plot, threw out
+many unnecessary persons, improved those characters
+which were begun and left unfinished, as Hector,
+Troilus, Pandarus, and Thersites, and added that of
+Andromache. After this, I made, with no small
+trouble, an order and connection of all the scenes;
+removing them from the places where they were inartificially
+set; and, though it was impossible to
+keep them all unbroken, because the scene must be
+sometimes in the city and sometimes in the camp,
+yet I have so ordered them, that there is a coherence
+of them with one another, and a dependence
+on the main design; no leaping from Troy to the
+Grecian tents, and thence back again, in the same
+act, but a due proportion of time allowed for every
+motion. I need not say that I have refined his
+language, which before was obsolete; but I am willing
+to acknowledge, that as I have often drawn his
+English nearer to our times, so I have sometimes
+conformed my own to his; and consequently, the
+language is not altogether so pure as it is significant.
+The scenes of Pandarus and Cressida, of
+Troilus and Pandarus, of Andromache with Hector
+and the Trojans, in the second act, are wholly new;
+together with that of Nestor and Ulysses with
+Thersites, and that of Thersites with Ajax and
+Achilles.  I will not weary my reader with the
+scenes which are added of Pandarus and the lovers,
+in the third, and those of Thersites, which are
+wholly altered; but I cannot omit the last scene in
+it, which is almost half the act, betwixt Troilus and
+Hector. The occasion of raising it was hinted to
+<span class="pgnm">241</span><a id="page_241" name="page_241"></a>
+me by Mr Betterton; the contrivance and working
+of it was my own. They who think to do me an
+injury, by saying, that it is an imitation of the
+scene betwixt Brutus and Cassius, do me an honour,
+by supposing I could imitate the incomparable
+Shakespeare; but let me add, that if Shakespeare's
+scene, or that faulty copy of it in "Amintor
+and Melantius," had never been, yet Euripides
+had furnished me with an excellent example in his
+"Iphigenia," between Agamemnon and Menelaus;
+and from thence, indeed, the last turn of it is borrowed.
+The occasion which Shakespeare, Euripides, and
+Fletcher, have all taken, is the same,&mdash;grounded upon
+friendship; and the quarrel of two virtuous men,
+raised by natural degrees to the extremity of passion,
+is conducted in all three, to the declination
+of the same passion, and concludes with a warm
+renewing of their friendship. But the particular
+ground-work which Shakespeare has taken, is incomparably
+the best; because he has not only chosen
+two of the greatest heroes of their age, but has
+likewise interested the liberty of Rome, and their
+own honours, who were the redeemers of it, in this
+debate. And if he has made Brutus, who was naturally
+a patient man, to fly into excess at first, let
+it be remembered in his defence, that, just before,
+he has received the news of Portia's death; whom
+the poet, on purpose neglecting a little chronology,
+supposes to have died before Brutus, only to give
+him an occasion of being more easily exasperated.
+Add to this, that the injury he had received from
+Cassius, had long been brooding in his mind; and
+that a melancholy man, upon consideration of an
+affront, especially from a friend, would be more eager
+in his passion, than he who had given it, though
+naturally more choleric. Euripides, whom I have
+followed, has raised the quarrel betwixt two brothers,
+<span class="pgnm">242</span><a id="page_242" name="page_242"></a>
+who were friends. The foundation of the scene
+was this: The Grecians were wind-bound at the port
+of Aulis, and the oracle had said, that they could not
+sail, unless Agamemnon delivered up his daughter
+to be sacrificed: he refuses; his brother Menelaus
+urges the public safety; the father defends himself
+by arguments of natural affection, and hereupon
+they quarrel. Agamemnon is at last convinced,
+and promises to deliver up Iphigenia, but so passionately
+laments his loss, that Menelaus is grieved
+to have been the occasion of it, and, by a return of
+kindness, offers to intercede for him with the Grecians,
+that his daughter might not be sacrificed.
+But my friend Mr Rymer has so largely, and with
+so much judgment, described this scene, in comparing
+it with that of Melantius and Amintor, that
+it is superfluous to say more of it; I only named
+the heads of it, that any reasonable man might
+judge it was from thence I modelled my scene betwixt
+Troilus and Hector. I will conclude my reflections
+on it, with a passage of Longinus, concerning
+Plato's imitation of Homer: "We ought
+not to regard a good imitation as a theft, but as a
+beautiful idea of him who undertakes to imitate,
+by forming himself on the invention and the work
+of another man; for he enters into the lists like a
+new wrestler, to dispute the prize with the former
+champion. This sort of emulation, says Hesiod, is
+honourable, <span class="Greek" title="Agath&ecirc; d' eris esti Brotoisin">
+&Alpha;&gamma;&alpha;&theta;&eta;
+&delta;&rsquo;
+&epsilon;&rho;&iota;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&sigma;&tau;&iota;
+&Beta;&rho;&omicron;&tau;&omicron;&iota;&sigma;&iota;&nu;</span>&mdash;when we combat
+for victory with a hero, and are not without
+glory even in our overthrow. Those great men,
+whom we propose to ourselves as patterns of our
+imitation, serve us as a torch, which is lifted up before
+us, to enlighten our passage, and often elevate
+our thoughts as high as the conception we have of
+our author's genius."</p>
+
+<p>I have been so tedious in three acts, that I shall
+<span class="pgnm">243</span><a id="page_243" name="page_243"></a>
+contract myself in the two last. The beginning
+scenes of the fourth act are either added or changed
+wholly by me; the middle of it is Shakespeare altered,
+and mingled with my own; three or four of
+the last scenes are altogether new. And the whole
+fifth act, both the plot and the writing, are my own
+additions.</p>
+
+<p>But having written so much for imitation of what
+is excellent, in that part of the preface which related
+only to myself, methinks it would neither be
+unprofitable nor unpleasant to inquire how far we
+ought to imitate our own poets, Shakespeare and
+Fletcher, in their tragedies; and this will occasion
+another inquiry, how those two writers differ between
+themselves: but since neither of these questions
+can be solved, unless some measures be first
+taken, by which we may be enabled to judge truly
+of their writings, I shall endeavour, as briefly as I
+can, to discover the grounds and reason of all criticism,
+applying them in this place only to Tragedy.
+Aristotle with his interpreters, and Horace, and
+Longinus, are the authors to whom I owe my lights;
+and what part soever of my own plays, or of this,
+which no mending could make regular, shall fall
+under the condemnation of such judges, it would
+be impudence in me to defend. I think it no shame
+to retract my errors, and am well pleased to suffer
+in the cause, if the art may be improved at my expence:
+I therefore proceed to</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">THE GROUNDS OF CRITICISM IN TRAGEDY.</p>
+
+<p>Tragedy is thus defined by Aristotle (omitting
+what I thought unnecessary in his definition). It
+is an imitation of one entire, great, and probable
+action; not told, but represented; which, by moving
+<span class="pgnm">244</span><a id="page_244" name="page_244"></a>
+in us fear and pity, is conducive to the purging
+of those two passions in our minds. More largely
+thus: Tragedy describes or paints an action, which
+action must have all the properties above named.
+First, it must be one or single; that is, it must not
+be a history of one man's life, suppose of Alexander
+the Great, or Julius Cæsar, but one single action
+of theirs. This condemns all Shakespeare's historical
+plays, which are rather chronicles represented,
+than tragedies; and all double action of plays. As,
+to avoid a satire upon others, I will make bold with
+my own "Marriage A-la-mode," where there are
+manifestly two actions, not depending on one another;
+but in "&OElig;dipus" there cannot properly be
+said to be two actions, because the love of Adrastus
+and Eurydice has a necessary dependence on
+the principal design into which it is woven. The
+natural reason of this rule is plain; for two different
+independent actions distract the attention and
+concernment of the audience, and consequently
+destroy the intention of the poet; if his business
+be to move terror and pity, and one of his actions
+he comical, the other tragical, the former will divert
+the people, and utterly make void his greater
+purpose. Therefore, as in perspective, so in tragedy,
+there must be a point of sight in which all
+the lines terminate; otherwise the eye wanders, and
+the work is false. This was the practice of the Grecian
+stage. But Terence made an innovation in
+the Roman: all his plays have double actions; for
+it was his custom to translate two Greek comedies,
+and to weave them into one of his, yet so, that
+both their actions were comical, and one was principal,
+the other but secondary or subservient. And
+this has obtained on the English stage, to give us
+the pleasure of variety.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pgnm">245</span><a id="page_245" name="page_245"></a>
+As the action ought to be one, it ought, as such,
+to have order in it; that is, to have a natural beginning,
+a middle, and an end. A natural beginning,
+says Aristotle, is that which could not necessarily
+have been placed after another thing; and so of the
+rest. This consideration will arraign all plays after
+the new model of Spanish plots, where accident is
+heaped upon accident, and that which is first might
+as reasonably be last; an inconvenience not to be
+remedied, but by making one accident naturally
+produce another, otherwise it is a farce and not a
+play. Of this nature is the "Slighted Maid;" where
+there is no scene in the first act, which might not by
+as good reason be in the fifth. And if the action
+ought to be one, the tragedy ought likewise to
+conclude with the action of it. Thus in "Mustapha,"
+the play should naturally have ended with
+the death of Zanger, and not have given us the
+grace-cup after dinner, of Solyman's divorce from
+Roxolana.</p>
+
+<p>The following properties of the action are so
+easy, that they need not my explaining. It ought
+to be great, and to consist of great persons, to distinguish
+it from comedy, where the action is trivial,
+and the persons of inferior rank. The last quality
+of the action is, that it ought to be probable, as
+well as admirable and great. It is not necessary
+that there should be historical truth in it; but always
+necessary that there should be a likeness of
+truth, something that is more than barely possible;
+<i>probable</i> being that which succeeds, or happens,
+oftener than it misses. To invent therefore a probability
+and to make it wonderful, is the most difficult
+undertaking in the art of poetry; for that,
+which is not wonderful, is not great; and that, which
+is not probable, will not delight a reasonable audience.
+<span class="pgnm">246</span><a id="page_246" name="page_246"></a>
+This action, thus described, must be represented
+and not told, to distinguish dramatic poetry
+from epic: but I hasten to the end or scope of tragedy,
+which is, to rectify or purge our passions,
+fear and pity.</p>
+
+<p>To instruct delightfully is the general end of all
+poetry. Philosophy instructs, but it performs its
+work by precept; which is not delightful, or not
+so delightful as example. To purge the passions
+by example, is therefore the particular instruction
+which belongs to tragedy. Rapin, a judicious critic,
+has observed from Aristotle, that pride and
+want of commiseration are the most predominant
+vices in mankind; therefore, to cure us of these
+two, the inventors of tragedy have chosen to work
+upon two other passions, which are, fear and pity.
+We are wrought to fear, by their setting before our
+eyes some terrible example of misfortune, which
+happened to persons of the highest quality; for
+such an action demonstrates to us, that no condition
+is privileged from the turns of fortune; this
+must of necessity cause terror in us, and consequently
+abate our pride. But when we see that
+the most virtuous, as well as the greatest, are not
+exempt from such misfortunes, that consideration
+moves pity in us, and insensibly works us to be
+helpful to, and tender over, the distressed; which
+is the noblest and most godlike of moral virtues,
+Here it is observable, that it is absolutely necessary
+to make a man virtuous, if we desire he should be
+pitied: we lament not, but detest, a wicked man;
+we are glad when we behold his crimes are punished,
+and that poetical justice is done upon him.
+Euripides was censured by the critics of his time,
+for making his chief characters too wicked; for
+example, Phædra, though she loved her son-in-law
+with reluctancy, and that it was a curse upon her
+<span class="pgnm">247</span><a id="page_247" name="page_247"></a>
+family for offending Venus, yet was thought too
+ill a pattern for the stage. Shall we therefore banish
+all characters of villainy? I confess I am not
+of that opinion; but it is necessary that the hero
+of the play be not a villain; that is, the characters,
+which should move our pity, ought to have virtuous
+inclinations, and degrees of moral goodness in
+them. As for a perfect character of virtue, it never
+was in nature, and therefore there can be no imitation
+of it; but there are allays of frailty to be allowed
+for the chief persons, yet so that the good
+which is in them shall outweigh the bad, and consequently
+leave room for punishment on the one
+side, and pity on the other.</p>
+
+<p>After all, if any one will ask me, whether a tragedy
+cannot be made upon any other grounds than
+those of exciting pity and terror in us;&mdash;Bossu, the
+best of modern critics, answers thus in general:
+That all excellent arts, and particularly that of
+poetry, have been invented and brought to perfection
+by men of a transcendent genius; and that,
+therefore, they, who practise afterwards the same
+arts, are obliged to tread in their footsteps, and to
+search in their writings the foundation of them;
+for it is not just that new rules should destroy the
+authority of the old. But Rapin writes more particularly
+thus, that no passions in a story are so
+proper to move our concernment, as fear and pity;
+and that it is from our concernment we receive our
+pleasure, is undoubted. When the soul becomes
+agitated with fear for one character, or hope for
+another; then it is that we are pleased in tragedy,
+by the interest which we take in their adventures.</p>
+
+<p>Here, therefore, the general answer may be given
+to the first question, how far we ought to imitate
+Shakespeare and Fletcher in their plots; namely,
+that we ought to follow them so far only, as they
+<span class="pgnm">248</span><a id="page_248" name="page_248"></a>
+have copied the excellencies of those who invented
+and brought to perfection dramatic poetry; those
+things only excepted, which religion, custom of
+countries, idioms of languages, &amp;c. have altered in
+the superstructures, but not in the foundation of
+the design.</p>
+
+<p>How defective Shakespeare and Fletcher have
+been in all their plots, Mr Rymer has discovered
+in his criticisms. Neither can we, who follow
+them, be excused from the same, or greater errors;
+which are the more unpardonable in us, because
+we want their beauties to countervail our faults.
+The best of their designs, the most approaching to
+antiquity, and the most conducing to move pity, is
+the "King and no King;" which, if the farce of
+Bessus were thrown away, is of that inferior sort
+of tragedies, which end with a prosperous event.
+It is probably derived from the story of &OElig;dipus,
+with the character of Alexander the Great, in his
+extravagances, given to Arbaces. The taking of
+this play, amongst many others, I cannot wholly
+ascribe to the excellency of the action; for I find
+it moving when it is read. It is true, the faults of
+the plot are so evidently proved, that they can no
+longer be denied. The beauties of it must therefore
+lie either in the lively touches of the passion;
+or we must conclude, as I think we may, that even
+in imperfect plots there are less degrees of nature,
+by which some faint emotions of pity and terror are
+raised in us; as a less engine will raise a less proportion
+of weight, though not so much as one of
+Archimedes's making; for nothing can move our
+nature, but by some natural reason, which works
+upon passions. And, since we acknowledge the effect,
+there must be something in the cause.</p>
+
+<p>The difference between Shakespeare and Fletcher,
+in their plottings, seems to be this; that Shakespeare
+<span class="pgnm">249</span><a id="page_249" name="page_249"></a>
+generally moves more terror, and Fletcher
+more compassion: for the first had a more masculine,
+a bolder, and more fiery genius; the second,
+a more soft and womanish. In the mechanic beauties
+of the plot, which are the observation of the
+three unities, time, place, and action, they are both
+deficient; but Shakespeare most. Ben Jonson reformed
+those errors in his comedies, yet one of
+Shakespeare's was regular before him; which is,
+"The Merry Wives of Windsor." For what remains
+concerning the design, you are to be referred
+to our English critic. That method which he has
+prescribed to raise it, from mistake, or ignorance of
+the crime, is certainly the best, though it is not the
+only; for amongst all the tragedies of Sophocles,
+there is but one, &OElig;dipus, which is wholly built after
+that model.</p>
+
+<p>After the plot, which is the foundation of the
+play, the next thing to which we ought to apply
+our judgment, is the manners; for now the poet
+comes to work above ground. The ground-work,
+indeed, is that which is most necessary, as that upon
+which depends the firmness of the whole fabric;
+yet it strikes not the eye so much, as the beauties
+or imperfections of the manners, the thoughts, and
+the expressions.</p>
+
+<p>The first rule which Bossu prescribes to the writer
+of an heroic poem, and which holds too by the
+same reason in all dramatic poetry, is to make the
+moral of the work; that is, to lay down to yourself
+what that precept of morality shall be, which you
+would insinuate into the people; as, namely, Homer's
+(which I have copied in my "Conquest of
+Granada,") was, that union preserves a commonwealth
+and discord destroys it. Sophocles, in his
+&OElig;dipus, that no man is to be accounted happy before
+his death. It is the moral that directs the
+<span class="pgnm">250</span><a id="page_250" name="page_250"></a>
+whole action of the play to one centre; and that
+action or fable is the example built upon the moral,
+which confirms the truth of it to our experience.
+When the fable is designed, then, and not
+before, the persons are to be introduced, with their
+manners, characters, and passions.</p>
+
+<p>The manners, in a poem, are understood to be
+those inclinations, whether natural or acquired,
+which move and carry us to actions, good, bad, or
+indifferent, in a play; or which incline the persons
+to such or such actions. I have anticipated part of
+this discourse already, in declaring that a poet
+ought not to make the manners perfectly good in
+his best persons; but neither are they to be more
+wicked in any of his characters, than necessity requires.
+To produce a villain, without other reason
+than a natural inclination to villainy, is, in poetry,
+to produce an effect without a cause; and to make
+him more a villain than he has just reason to be,
+is to make an effect which is stronger than the
+cause.</p>
+
+<p>The manners arise from many causes; and are
+either distinguished by complexion, as choleric and
+phlegmatic, or by the differences of age or sex, of
+climates, or quality of the persons, or their present
+condition. They are likewise to be gathered from
+the several virtues, vices, or passions, and many
+other common-places, which a poet must be supposed
+to have learned from natural philosophy,
+ethics, and history; of all which, whosoever is ignorant,
+does not deserve the name of poet.</p>
+
+<p>But as the manners are useful in this art, they
+may be all comprised under these general heads:
+First, they must be apparent; that is, in every character
+of the play, some inclinations of the person
+must appear; and these are shown in the actions
+and discourse. Secondly, the manners must be
+<span class="pgnm">251</span><a id="page_251" name="page_251"></a>
+suitable, or agreeing to the persons; that is, to the
+age, sex, dignity, and the other general heads of
+manners: thus, when a poet has given the dignity
+of a king to one of his persons, in all his actions
+and speeches, that person must discover majesty,
+magnanimity, and jealousy of power, because these
+are suitable to the general manners of a king<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_3-1">[1]</a>. The
+third property of manners is resemblance; and this
+is founded upon the particular characters of men,
+as we have them delivered to us by relation or history;
+that is, when a poet has the known character
+of this or that man before him, he is bound to
+represent him such, at least not contrary to that
+which fame has reported him to have been. Thus,
+it is not a poet's choice to make Ulysses choleric,
+or Achilles patient, because Homer has described
+them quite otherwise. Yet this is a rock, on which
+ignorant writers daily split; and the absurdity is as
+monstrous, as if a painter should draw a coward
+running from a battle, and tell us it was the picture
+of Alexander the Great.</p>
+
+<p>The last property of manners is, that they be
+constant and equal, that is, maintained the same
+through the whole design: thus, when Virgil had
+once given the name of <i>pious</i> to &AElig;neas, he was
+<span class="pgnm">252</span><a id="page_252" name="page_252"></a>
+bound to show him such, in all his words and actions
+through the whole poem. All these properties
+Horace has hinted to a judicious observer.&mdash;1.
+<i>Notandi sunt tibi mores;</i> 2. <i>Aut famam sequere,</i>
+3. <i>aut sibi concenientia finge;</i> 4. <i>Sercetur ad imum,
+qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.</i></p>
+
+<p>From the manners, the characters of persons are
+derived; for, indeed, the characters are no other
+than the inclinations, as they appear in the several
+persons of the poem; a character being thus defined,&mdash;that
+which distinguishes one man from another.
+Not to repeat the same things over again,
+which have been said of the manners, I will only
+add what is necessary here. A character, or that
+which distinguishes one man from all others, cannot
+be supposed to consist of one particular virtue, or
+vice, or passion only; but it is a composition of
+qualities which are not contrary to one another in
+the same person. Thus, the same man may be liberal
+and valiant, but not liberal and covetous; so in
+a comical character, or humour, (which is an inclination
+to this or that particular folly) Falstaff is a
+liar, and a coward, a glutton, and a buffoon, because
+all these qualities may agree in the same man; yet
+it is still to be observed, that one virtue, vice, and
+passion, ought to be shown in every man, as predominant
+over all the rest; as covetousness in Crassus,
+love of his country in Brutus; and the same in
+characters which are feigned.</p>
+
+<p>The chief character or hero in a tragedy, as I
+have already shown, ought in prudence to be such
+a man, who has so much more of virtue in him than
+of vice, that he may be left amiable to the audience,
+which otherwise cannot have any concernment
+for his sufferings; and it is on this one character,
+that the pity and terror must be principally,
+if not wholly, founded: a rule which is extremely
+<span class="pgnm">253</span><a id="page_253" name="page_253"></a>
+necessary, and which none of the critics, that I know,
+have fully enough discovered to us. For terror and
+compassion work but weakly when they are divided
+into many persons. If Creon had been the chief
+character in "&OElig;dipus," there had neither been terror
+nor compassion moved; but only detestation of the
+man, and joy for his punishment; if Adrastus and
+Eurydice had been made more appearing0characters,
+then the pity had been divided, and lessened on the
+part of &OElig;dipus. But making &OElig;dipus the best and
+bravest person, and even Jocasta but an underpart
+to him, his virtues, and the punishment of his fatal
+crime, drew both the pity, and the terror to himself.</p>
+
+<p>By what has been said of the manners, it will be
+easy for a reasonable man to judge, whether the
+characters be truly or falsely drawn in a tragedy;
+for if there be no manners appearing in the characters,
+no concernment for the persons can be raised;
+no pity or horror can be moved, but by vice or
+virtue; therefore, without them, no person can have
+any business in the play. If the inclinations be obscure,
+it is a sign the poet is in the dark, and knows
+not what manner of man he presents to you; and
+consequently you can have no idea, or very imperfect,
+of that man; nor can judge what resolutions
+he ought to take; or what words or actions are proper
+for him. Most comedies, made up of accidents
+or adventures, are liable to fall into this error; and
+tragedies with many turns are subject to it; for the
+manners can never be evident, where the surprises
+of fortune take up all the business of the stage; and
+where the poet is more in pain, to tell you what
+happened to such a man, than what he was. It is
+one of the excellencies of Shakespeare, that the manners
+of his persons are generally apparent; and you
+see their bent and inclinations. Fletcher comes far
+<span class="pgnm">254</span><a id="page_254" name="page_254"></a>
+short of him in this, as indeed he does almost in
+every thing. There are but glimmerings of manners
+in most of his comedies, which run upon
+adventures; and in his tragedies, Rollo, Otto,
+the King and no King, Melantius, and many
+others of his best, are but pictures shown you in the
+twilight; you know not whether they resemble vice
+or virtue, and they are either good, bad, or indifferent,
+as the present scene requires it. But of all
+poets, this commendation is to be given to Ben Jonson,
+that the manners even of the most inconsiderable
+persons in his plays, are every where apparent.</p>
+
+<p>By considering the second quality of manners,
+which is, that they be suitable to the age, quality,
+country, dignity, &amp;c. of the character, we may likewise
+judge whether a poet has followed nature. In
+this kind, Sophocles and Euripides have more excelled
+among the Greeks than &AElig;schylus; and Terence
+more than Plautus, among the Romans. Thus,
+Sophocles gives to &OElig;dipus the true qualities of a
+king, in both those plays which bear his name; but
+in the latter, which is the "&OElig;dipus Coloneus," he
+lets fall on purpose his tragic style; his hero speaks
+not in the arbitrary tone; but remembers, in the
+softness of his complaints, that he is an unfortunate
+blind old man; that he is banished from his country,
+and persecuted by his next relations. The present
+French poets are generally accused, that wheresoever
+they lay the scene, or in whatsoever age, the
+manners of their heroes are wholly French. Racine's
+Bajazet is bred at Constantinople; but his civilities
+are conveyed to him, by some secret passage,
+from Versailles into the seraglio. But our Shakespeare,
+having ascribed to Henry the Fourth the
+character of a king and of a father, gives him the
+perfect manners of each relation, when either he
+transacts with his son or with his subjects. Fletcher,
+<span class="pgnm">255</span><a id="page_255" name="page_255"></a>
+on the other side, gives neither to Arbaces,
+nor to his king, in "The Maid's Tragedy," the
+qualities which are suitable to a monarch; though
+he may be excused a little in the latter, for the king
+there is not uppermost in the character; it is the lover
+of Evadne, who is king only in a second consideration;
+and though he be unjust, and has other
+faults which shall be nameless, yet he is not the
+hero of the play. It is true, we find him a lawful
+prince, (though I never heard of any king that was
+in Rhodes) and therefore Mr Rymer's criticism
+stands good,&mdash;that he should not be shown in so
+vicious a character. Sophocles has been more judicious
+in his "Antigona;" for, though he represents
+in Creon a bloody prince, yet he makes him
+not a lawful king, but an usurper, and Antigona
+herself is the heroine of the tragedy: but when
+Philaster wounds Arethusa and the boy; and Perigot
+his mistress, in the "Faithful Shepherdess,"
+both these are contrary to the character of manhood.
+Nor is Valentinian managed much better;
+for, though Fletcher has taken his picture truly, and
+shown him as he was, an effeminate, voluptuous
+man, yet he has forgotten that he was an emperor,
+and has given him none of those royal marks, which
+ought to appear in a lawful successor of the throne.
+If it be enquired, what Fletcher should have done
+on this occasion; ought he not to have represented
+Valentinian as he was;&mdash;Bossu shall answer this
+question for me, by an instance of the like nature:
+Mauritius, the Greek emperor, was a prince far surpassing
+Valentinian, for he was endued with many
+kingly virtues; he was religious, merciful, and valiant,
+but withal he was noted of extreme covetousness,
+a vice which is contrary to the character
+of a hero, or a prince: therefore, says the critic,
+that emperor was no fit person to be represented in
+<span class="pgnm">256</span><a id="page_256" name="page_256"></a>
+a tragedy, unless his good qualities were only to be
+shown, and his covetousness (which sullied them
+all) were slurred over by the artifice of the poet.
+To return once more to Shakespeare; no man ever
+drew so many characters, or generally distinguished
+them better from one another, excepting only Jonson.
+I will instance but in one, to show the copiousness
+of his invention; it is that of Caliban, or
+the monster, in "The Tempest." He seems there
+to have created a person which was not in nature,
+a boldness which, at first sight, would appear intolerable;
+for he makes him a species of himself,
+begotten by an incubus on a witch; but this, as I
+have elsewhere proved, is not wholly beyond the
+bounds of credibility, at least the vulgar still believe
+it. We have the separated notions of a spirit,
+and of a witch; (and spirits, according to Plato, are
+vested with a subtle body; according to some of
+his followers, have different sexes;) therefore, as
+from the distinct apprehensions of a horse, and of
+a man, imagination has formed a centaur; so, from
+those of an incubus and a sorceress, Shakespeare has
+produced his monster. Whether or no his generation
+can be defended, I leave to philosophy; but of
+this I am certain, that the poet has most judiciously
+furnished him with a person, a language, and a
+character, which will suit him, both by father's and
+mother's side: he has all the discontents, and malice
+of a witch, and of a devil, besides a convenient
+proportion of the deadly sins; gluttony, sloth, and
+lust, are manifest; the dejectedness of a slave is
+likewise given him, and the ignorance of one bred
+up in a desert island. His person is monstrous, and
+he is the product of unnatural lust; and his language
+is as hobgoblin as his person; in all things
+he is distinguished from other mortals. The characters
+of Fletcher are poor and narrow, in comparison
+<span class="pgnm">257</span><a id="page_257" name="page_257"></a>
+of Shakspeare's; I remember not one which is
+not borrowed from him; unless you will except that
+strange mixture of a man in the "King and no
+King;" so that in this part Shakespeare is generally
+worth our imitation; and to imitate Fletcher is but
+to copy after him who was a copyer.</p>
+
+<p>Under this general head of manners, the passions
+are naturally included, as belonging to the characters.
+I speak not of pity and of terror, which are to
+be moved in the audience by the plot; but of anger,
+hatred, love, ambition, jealousy, revenge, &amp;c. as they
+are shown in this or that person of the play. To
+describe these naturally, and to move them artfully,
+is one of the greatest commendations which can be
+given to a poet: to write pathetically, says Longinus,
+cannot proceed but from a lofty genius. A
+poet must be born with this quality: yet, unless he
+help himself by an acquired knowledge of the passions,
+what they are in their own nature, and by
+what springs they are to be moved, he will be subject
+either to raise them where they ought not to
+be raised, or not to raise them by the just degrees
+of nature, or to amplify them beyond the natural
+bounds, or not to observe the crisis and turns of
+them, in their cooling and decay; all which errors
+proceed from want of judgment in the poet, and
+from being unskilled in the principles of moral philosophy.
+Nothing is more frequent in a fanciful
+writer, than to foil himself by not managing his
+strength; therefore, as, in a wrestler, there is first
+required some measure of force, a well-knit body
+and active limbs, without which all instruction
+would be vain; yet, these being granted, if he want
+the skill which is necessary to a wrestler, he shall
+make but small advantage of his natural robustuousness:
+so, in a poet, his inborn vehemence and force
+of spirit will only run him out of breath the sooner,
+<span class="pgnm">258</span><a id="page_258" name="page_258"></a>
+if it be not supported by the help of art. The
+roar of passion, indeed, may please an audience,
+three parts of which are ignorant enough to think
+all is moving which is noisy, and it may stretch the
+lungs of an ambitious actor, who will die upon the
+spot for a thundering clap; but it will move no
+other passion than indignation and contempt from
+judicious men. Longinus, whom I have hitherto
+followed, continues thus:&mdash;If the passions be artfully
+employed, the discourse becomes vehement and
+lofty: if otherwise, there is nothing more ridiculous
+than a great passion out of season: and to this
+purpose he animadverts severely upon &AElig;schylus,
+who writ nothing in cold blood, but was always in
+a rapture, and in fury with his audience: the inspiration
+was still upon him, he was ever tearing
+it upon the tripos; or (to run off as madly as he
+does, from one similitude to another) he was always
+at high-flood of passion, even in the dead ebb,
+and lowest water-mark of the scene. He who
+would raise the passion of a judicious audience,
+says a learned critic, must be sure to take his hearers
+along with him; if they be in a calm, 'tis in
+vain for him to be in a huff: he must move them
+by degrees, and kindle with them; otherwise he
+will be in danger of setting his own heap of stubble
+on fire, and of burning out by himself, without
+warming the company that stand about him. They
+who would justify the madness of poetry from the
+authority of Aristotle, have mistaken the text,
+and consequently the interpretation: I imagine it
+to be false read, where he says of poetry, that it is
+<span class="Greek" title="Euphuous &ecirc; manikou">
+&Epsilon;&upsilon;&phi;&upsilon;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigmaf;
+&eta;
+&mu;&alpha;&nu;&iota;&kappa;&omicron;&upsilon;,
+</span> that it had always somewhat in it
+either of a genius, or of a madman. 'Tis more probable
+that the original ran thus, that poetry was
+<span class="Greek" title="Euphuous ou manikou">
+&Epsilon;&upsilon;&phi;&upsilon;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigmaf;
+&omicron;&upsilon;
+&mu;&alpha;&nu;&iota;&kappa;&omicron;&upsilon;,
+</span> That it belongs to a witty man, but
+not to a madman. Thus then the passions, as they
+<span class="pgnm">259</span><a id="page_259" name="page_259"></a>
+are considered simply and in themselves, suffer violence
+when they are perpetually maintained at the
+same height; for what melody can be made on
+that instrument, all whose strings are screwed up
+at first to their utmost stretch, and to the same
+sound? But this is not the worst: for the characters
+likewise bear a part in the general calamity, if you
+consider the passions as embodied in them; for it
+follows of necessity, that no man can be distinguished
+from another by his discourse, when every man
+is ranting, swaggering, and exclaiming with the
+same excess: as if it were the only business of all
+the characters to contend with each other for the
+prize at Billingsgate; or that the scene of the tragedy
+lay in Bethlem. Suppose the poet should intend
+this man to be choleric, and that man to be
+patient; yet when they are confounded in the
+writing, you cannot distinguish them from one
+another: for the man who was called patient and
+tame, is only so before he speaks; but let his clack
+be set a-going, and he shall tongue it as impetuously
+and as loudly, as the arrantest hero in the
+play. By this means, the characters are only distinct
+in name; but, in reality, all the men and women
+in the play are the same person. No man
+should pretend to write, who cannot temper his
+fancy with his judgment: nothing is more dangerous
+to a raw horseman, than a hot-mouthed jade
+without a curb.</p>
+
+<p>It is necessary therefore for a poet, who would
+concern an audience by describing of a passion,
+first to prepare it, and not to rush upon it all at
+once. Ovid has judiciously shown the difference
+of these two ways, in the speeches of Ajax and
+Ulysses: Ajax, from the very beginning, breaks out
+into his exclamations, and is swearing by his
+Maker,&mdash;<i>Agimus, proh Jupiter, inquit.</i> Ulysses,
+<span class="pgnm">260</span><a id="page_260" name="page_260"></a>
+on the contrary, prepares his audience with all the
+submissiveness he can practise, and all the calmness
+of a reasonable man; he found his judges in a
+tranquillity of spirit, and therefore set out leisurely
+and softly with them, till he had warmed them by
+degrees; and then he began to mend his pace, and
+to draw them along with his own impetuousness:
+yet so managing his breath, that it might not fail
+him at his need, and reserving his utmost proofs of
+ability even to the last. The success, you see, was
+answerable; for the crowd only applauded the speech
+of Ajax;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Vulgique secutum ultima murmur erat:&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">But the judges awarded the prize, for which they
+contended, to Ulysses;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Mota manus procerum est; et quid facundia posset</p>
+<p>Tum patuit, fortisque viri tulit arma disertus.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next necessary rule is, to put nothing into
+the discourse, which may hinder your moving of
+the passions. Too many accidents, as I have said,
+incumber the poet, as much as the arms of Saul
+did David; for the variety of passions, which they
+produce, are ever crossing and justling each other
+out of the way. He, who treats of joy and grief
+together, is in a fair way of causing neither of
+those effects. There is yet another obstacle to be
+removed, which is,&mdash;pointed wit, and sentences affected
+out of season; these are nothing of kin to
+the violence of passion: no man is at leisure to
+make sentences and similes, when his soul is in
+an agony. I the rather name this fault, that it
+may serve to mind me of my former errors; neither
+will I spare myself, but give an example of this
+<span class="pgnm">261</span><a id="page_261" name="page_261"></a>
+kind from my "Indian Emperor." Montezuma, pursued
+by his enemies, and seeking sanctuary, stands
+parleying without the fort, and describing his danger
+to Cydaria, in a simile of six lines;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>As on the sands the frighted traveller</p>
+<p>Sees the high seas come rolling from afar, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>My Indian potentate was well skilled in the sea
+for an inland prince, and well improved since the
+first act, when he sent his son to discover it. The
+image had not been amiss from another man, at
+another time: <i>Sed nunc non erat his locus:</i> he destroyed
+the concernment which the audience might
+otherwise have had for him; for they could not
+think the danger near, when he had the leisure to
+invent a simile.</p>
+
+<p>If Shakespeare be allowed, as I think he must, to
+have made his characters distinct, it will easily be
+inferred, that he understood the nature of the passions:
+because it has been proved already, that confused
+passions make distinguishable characters: yet
+I cannot deny that he has his failings; but they
+are not so much in the passions themselves, as in
+his manner of expression: he often obscures his
+meaning by his words, and sometimes makes it unintelligible.
+I will not say of so great a poet, that
+he distinguished not the blown puffy stile, from
+true sublimity; but I may venture to maintain,
+that the fury of his fancy often transported him
+beyond the bounds of judgment, either in coining
+of new words and phrases, or racking words which
+were in use, into the violence of a catachresis. It is
+not that I would explode the use of metaphors
+from passion, for Longinus thinks them necessary
+to raise it: but to use them at every word, to say
+nothing without a metaphor, a simile, an image, or
+<span class="pgnm">262</span><a id="page_262" name="page_262"></a>
+description; is, I doubt, to smell a little too strongly
+of the buskin. I must be forced to give an example
+of expressing passion figuratively; but that
+I may do it with respect to Shakespeare, it shall
+not be taken from any thing of his: it is an exclamation
+against Fortune, quoted in his Hamlet, but
+written by some other poet:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! all you gods,</p>
+<p>In general synod, take away her power;</p>
+<p>Break all the spokes and felleys from her wheel,</p>
+<p>And bowl the round nave down the hill of heav'n,</p>
+<p>As low as to the fiends.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">And immediately after, speaking of Hecuba, when
+Priam was killed before her eyes:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled queen</p>
+<p>Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flame</p>
+<p>With bisson rheum; a clout about that head,</p>
+<p>Where late the diadem stood; and, for a rob</p>
+<p>About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,</p>
+<p>A blanket in th' alarm of fear caught up.</p>
+<p>Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd</p>
+<p>'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd;</p>
+<p>But if the gods themselves did see her then,</p>
+<p>When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport</p>
+<p>In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,</p>
+<p>The instant burst of clamour that she made</p>
+<p>(Unless things mortal move them not at all)</p>
+<p>Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,</p>
+<p>And passion in the gods.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>What a pudder is here kept in raising the expression
+of trifling thoughts! would not a man have
+thought that the poet had been bound prentice to
+a wheel-wright, for his first rant? and had followed
+a rag-man, for the clout and blanket, in the second?
+Fortune is painted on a wheel, and therefore the
+writer, in a rage, will have poetical justice done
+<span class="pgnm">263</span><a id="page_263" name="page_263"></a>
+upon every member of that engine: after this execution,
+he bowls the nave down-hill, from heaven,
+to the fiends: (an unreasonable long mark, a man
+would think;) 'tis well there are no solid orbs to
+stop it in the way, or no element of fire to consume
+it: but when it came to the earth, it must be
+monstrous heavy, to break ground as low as the
+center. His making milch the burning eyes of
+heaven, was a pretty tolerable flight too: and I
+think no man ever drew milk out of eyes before
+him: yet, to make the wonder greater, these eyes
+were burning. Such a sight indeed were enough
+to have raised passion in the gods; but to excuse
+the effects of it, he tells you, perhaps they did not
+see it. Wise men would be glad to find a little
+sense couched under all these pompous words; for
+bombast is commonly the delight of that audience,
+which loves poetry, but understands it not: and as
+commonly has been the practice of those writers,
+who, not being able to infuse a natural passion into
+the mind, have made it their business to ply the
+ears, and to stun their judges by the noise. But
+Shakespeare does not often thus; for the passions in
+his scene between Brutus and Cassius are extremely
+natural, the thoughts are such as arise from the
+matter, the expression of them not viciously figurative.
+I cannot leave this subject, before I do justice
+to that divine poet, by giving you one of his
+passionate descriptions: 'tis of Richard the Second
+when he was deposed, and led in triumph through
+the streets of London by Henry of Bolingbroke: the
+painting of it is so lively, and the words so moving
+that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it,
+in any other language. Suppose you have seen already
+the fortunate usurper passing through the
+crowd, and followed by the shouts and acclamations
+of the people; and now behold King Richard
+<span class="pgnm">264</span><a id="page_264" name="page_264"></a>
+entering upon the scene: consider the wretchedness
+of his condition, and his carriage in it; and refrain
+from pity, if you can:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>As in a theatre, the eyes of men,</p>
+<p>After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,</p>
+<p>Are idly bent on him that enters next,</p>
+<p>Thinking his prattle to be tedious:</p>
+<p>Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes</p>
+<p>Did scowl on Richard: no man cry'd, God save him:</p>
+<p>No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,</p>
+<p>But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,</p>
+<p>Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,</p>
+<p>His face still combating with tears and smiles,</p>
+<p>(The badges of his grief and patience)</p>
+<p>That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd</p>
+<p>The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,</p>
+<p>And barbarism itself have pitied him.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>To speak justly of this whole matter: it is neither
+height of thought that is discommended, nor pathetic
+vehemence, nor any nobleness of expression
+in its proper place; but it is a false measure of all
+these, something which is like them, and is not
+them: it is the Bristol-stone, which appears like a
+diamond; it is an extravagant thought, instead of a
+sublime one; it is roaring madness, instead of vehemence;
+and a sound of words, instead of sense. If
+Shakespeare were stripped of all the bombasts in his
+passions, and dressed in the most vulgar words, we
+should find the beauties of his thoughts remaining;
+if his embroideries were burnt down, there would
+still be silver at the bottom of the melting-pot:
+but I fear (at least let me fear it for myself) that
+we, who ape his sounding words, have nothing of
+his thought, but are all outside; there is not so
+much as a dwarf within our giant's clothes. Therefore,
+let not Shakespeare suffer for our sakes; it is our
+fault, who succeed him in an age which is more refined,
+if we imitate him so ill, that we copy his
+<span class="pgnm">265</span><a id="page_265" name="page_265"></a>
+failings only, and make a virtue of that in our writings,
+which in his was an imperfection.</p>
+
+<p>For what remains, the excellency of that poet
+was, as I have said, in the more manly passions;
+Fletcher's in the softer: Shakespeare writ better betwixt
+man and man; Fletcher, betwixt man and
+woman: consequently, the one described friendship
+better; the other love: yet Shakespeare taught
+Fletcher to write love: and Juliet and Desdemona
+are originals. It is true, the scholar had the softer
+soul; but the master had the kinder. Friendship
+is both a virtue and a passion essentially; love is a
+passion only in its nature, and is not a virtue but
+by accident: good nature makes friendship; but
+effeminacy love. Shakespeare had an universal
+mind, which comprehended all characters and passions;
+Fletcher a more confined and limited: for
+though he treated love in perfection, yet honour,
+ambition, revenge, and generally all the stronger,
+passions, he either touched not, or not masterly.
+To conclude all, he was a limb of Shakespeare.</p>
+
+<p>I had intended to have proceeded to the last property
+of manners, which is, that they must be constant,
+and the characters maintained the same from
+the beginning to the end; and from thence to have
+proceeded to the thoughts and expressions suitable
+to a tragedy: but I will first see how this will relish
+with the age. It is, I confess, but cursorily written;
+yet the judgment, which is given here, is generally
+founded upon experience: but because many
+men are shocked at the name of rules, as if they
+were a kind of magisterial prescription upon poets,
+I will conclude with the words of Rapin, in his Reflections
+on Aristotle's Work of Poetry: "If the
+rules be well considered, we shall find them to be
+made only to reduce nature into method, to trace her
+step by step, and not to suffer the least mark of her
+<span class="pgnm">266</span><a id="page_266" name="page_266"></a>
+to escape us: it is only by these, that probability in
+fiction is maintained, which is the soul of poetry.
+They are founded upon good sense, and sound reason,
+rather than on authority; for though Aristotle
+and Horace are produced, yet no man must argue,
+that what they write is true, because they writ it;
+but 'tis evident, by the ridiculous mistakes and gross
+absurdities, which have been made by those poets
+who have taken their fancy only for their guide,
+that if this fancy be not regulated, it is a mere caprice,
+and utterly incapable to produce a reasonable
+and judicious poem."</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Troil_3-1" name="Troil_3-1"></a>The <i>dictum</i> of Rymer, concerning the royal prerogative in
+poetry, is thus expressed: "We are to presume the highest virtues,
+where we find the highest of rewards; and though it is not
+necessary that all heroes should be kings, yet, undoubtedly, all
+crowned heads, by poetical right, are heroes. This character is
+a flower; a prerogative so certain, so inseparably annexed to the
+crown, as by no parliament of poets ever to be invaded." <i>The
+Tragedies of the last Age considered,</i> p. 61. Dryden has elsewhere
+given his assent to this maxim, that a king, in poetry, as in
+our constitution, can do no wrong. The only apology for introducing
+a tyrant upon the stage, was to make him at the same
+time an usurper.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">267</span><a id="page_267" name="page_267"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE<br /><br />
+
+SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON,<br />
+REPRESENTING THE GHOST OF SHAKESPEARE.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>See, my loved Britons, see your Shakespeare rise,</p>
+<p>An awful ghost confessed to human eyes!</p>
+<p>Unnamed, methinks, distinguished I had been</p>
+<p>From other shades, by this eternal green,</p>
+<p>About whose wreaths the vulgar poets strive,</p>
+<p>And with a touch, their withered bays revive.</p>
+<p>Untaught, unpractised, in a barbarous age,</p>
+<p>I found not, but created first the stage.</p>
+<p>And, if I drained no Greek or Latin store,</p>
+<p>'Twas, that my own abundance gave me more.</p>
+<p>On foreign trade I needed not rely,</p>
+<p>Like fruitful Britain, rich without supply.</p>
+<p>In this my rough-drawn play, you shall behold</p>
+<p>Some master-strokes, so manly and so bold,</p>
+<p>That he who meant to alter, found 'em such,</p>
+<p>He shook, and thought it sacrilege to touch.</p>
+<p>Now, where are the successors to my name?</p>
+<p>What bring they to fill out a poet's fame?</p>
+<p>Weak, short-lived issues of a feeble age;</p>
+<p>Scarce living to be christened on the stage!</p>
+<p>For humour farce, for love they rhyme dispense,</p>
+<p>That tolls the knell for their departed sense.</p>
+<p>Dulness might thrive in any trade but this:</p>
+<p>'Twould recommend to some fat benefice.</p>
+<p>Dulness, that in a playhouse meets disgrace,</p>
+<p>Might meet with reverence, in its proper place.</p>
+<p>The fulsome clench, that nauseates the town,</p>
+<p>Would from a judge or alderman go down,</p>
+<p>Such virtue is there in a robe and gown!</p>
+<p>And that insipid stuff which here you hate,</p>
+<p>Might somewhere else be called a grave debate;</p>
+<p>Dulness is decent in the church and state.</p>
+<p>But I forget that still 'tis understood,</p>
+<p>Bad plays are best decried by showing good.</p>
+<p>Sit silent then, that my pleased soul may see</p>
+<p>A judging audience once, and worthy me;</p>
+<span class="pgnm">268</span><a id="page_268" name="page_268"></a>
+<p>My faithful scene from true records shall tell,</p>
+<p>How Trojan valour did the Greek excell;</p>
+<p>Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,</p>
+<p>And Homer's angry ghost repine in vain<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_4-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Troil_4-1" name="Troil_4-1"></a>The conceit, which our ancestors had adopted, of their descent from
+Brutus, a fugitive Trojan, induced their poets to load the Grecian chiefs with
+every accusation of cowardice and treachery, and to extol the character of
+the Trojans in the same proportion. Hector is always represented as having
+been treacherously slain.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Hector and Troilus">
+<tr>
+<td class="smcap">Hector,<br />
+Troilus,</td>
+<td>}<br />
+}</td>
+<td><i>Sons of</i> <span class="smcap">Priam.</span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;"><span class="smcap">Priam,</span> <i>King of Troy.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">&AElig;neas,</span> <i>a Trojan Warrior.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Pandarus,</span> <i>Uncle to</i> <span class="smcap">Cressida.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Calchas,</span> <i>a Trojan Priest, and Father to</i> <span class="smcap">Cressida,</span>
+<i>a fugitive to the Grecian camp.</i></p>
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Grecian Warriors">
+<tr>
+<td class="smcap">Agamemnon,<br />
+Ulysses,<br />
+Achilles,<br />
+Ajax,<br />
+Nestor,<br />
+Diomedes,<br />
+Patroclus,<br />
+Menelaus,</td>
+<td>}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}</td>
+<td><i>Grecian Warriors, engaged in the
+siege of Troy.</i>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0;"><span class="smcap">Thersites,</span> <i>a slanderous Buffoon.</i></p>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Cressida,</span> <i>Daughter to</i> <span class="smcap">Calchas.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Andromache,</span> <i>Wife to</i> <span class="smcap">Hector.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">269</span><a id="page_269" name="page_269"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TROILUS AND CRESSIDA</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A Camp.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes,</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Nestor.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Princes, it seems not strange to us, nor new,<br />
+That, after nine years siege, Troy makes defence,<br />
+Since every action of recorded fame<br />
+Has with long difficulties been involved,<br />
+Not answering that idea of the thought,<br />
+Which gave it birth; why then, you Grecian chiefs,<br />
+With sickly eyes do you behold our labours,<br />
+And think them our dishonour, which indeed<br />
+Are the protractive trials of the gods,<br />
+To prove heroic constancy in men?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> With due observance of thy sovereign seat,<br />
+Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply<br />
+Thy well-weighed words. In struggling with misfortunes<br />
+Lies the true proof of virtue: On smooth seas,<br />
+How many bauble-boats dare set their sails,<br />
+And make an equal way with firmer vessels!<br />
+But let the tempest once enrage that sea,<br />
+And then behold the strong-ribbed argosie,<br />
+Bounding between the ocean and the air,<br />
+Like Perseus mounted on his Pegasus.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">270</span><a id="page_270" name="page_270"></a>
+Then where are those weak rivals of the main?<br />
+Or, to avoid the tempest, fled to port,<br />
+Or made a prey to Neptune. Even thus<br />
+Do empty show, and true-prized worth, divide<br />
+In storms of fortune.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Mighty Agamemnon!<br />
+Heart of our body, soul of our designs,<br />
+In whom the tempers, and the minds of all<br />
+Should be inclosed,&mdash;hear what Ulysses speaks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> You have free leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Troy had been down ere this, and Hector's sword<br />
+Wanted a master, but for our disorders:<br />
+The observance due to rule has been neglected,<br />
+Observe how many Grecian tents stand void<br />
+Upon this plain, so many hollow factions:<br />
+For, when the general is not like the hive,<br />
+To whom the foragers should all repair,<br />
+What honey can our empty combs expect?<br />
+Or when supremacy of kings is shaken,<br />
+What can succeed? How could communities,<br />
+Or peaceful traffic from divided shores,<br />
+Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,<br />
+But by degree, stand on their solid base?<br />
+Then every thing resolves to brutal force,<br />
+And headlong force is led by hoodwinked will.<br />
+For wild ambition, like a ravenous wolf,<br />
+Spurred on by will, and seconded by power,<br />
+Must make an universal prey of all,<br />
+And last devour itself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Most prudently Ulysses has discovered<br />
+The malady, whereof our state is sick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> 'Tis truth he speaks; the general's disdained<br />
+By him one step beneath, he by the next;<br />
+That next by him below: So each degree<br />
+Spurns upward at superior eminence.<br />
+Thus our distempers are their sole support;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">271</span><a id="page_271" name="page_271"></a>
+Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> The nature of this sickness found, inform us<br />
+From whence it draws its birth?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns<br />
+The chief of all our host,<br />
+Having his ears buzzed with his noisy fame,<br />
+Disdains thy sovereign charge, and in his tent<br />
+Lies, mocking our designs; with him Patroclus,<br />
+Upon a lazy bed, breaks scurril jests,<br />
+And with ridiculous and aukward action,<br />
+Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,<br />
+Mimics the Grecian chiefs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> As how, Ulysses?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Even thee, the king of men, he does not spare,<br />
+(The monkey author) but thy greatness pageants,<br />
+And makes of it rehearsals: like a player,<br />
+Bellowing his passion till he break the spring,<br />
+And his racked voice jar to his audience;<br />
+So represents he thee, though more unlike<br />
+Than Vulcan is to Venus.<br />
+And at this fulsome stuff,&mdash;the wit of apes,&mdash;<br />
+The large Achilles, on his prest bed lolling,<br />
+From his deep chest roars out a loud applause,<br />
+Tickling his spleen, and laughing till he wheeze.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Nor are you spared, Ulysses; but, as you speak in council,<br />
+He hems ere he begins, then strokes his beard,<br />
+Casts down his looks, and winks with half an eye;<br />
+Has every action, cadence, motion, tone,<br />
+All of you but the sense.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Fortune was merry<br />
+When he was born, and played a trick on nature,<br />
+To make a mimic prince; he ne'er acts ill,<br />
+But when he would seem wise:<br />
+For all he says or does, from serious thought,<br />
+Appears so wretched, that he mocks his title,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">272</span><a id="page_272" name="page_272"></a>
+And is his own buffoon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> In imitation of this scurril fool,<br />
+Ajax is grown self-willed as broad Achilles.<br />
+He keeps a table too, makes factious feasts,<br />
+Rails on our state of war, and sets Thersites<br />
+(A slanderous slave of an o'erflowing gall)<br />
+To level us with low comparisons.<br />
+They tax our policy with cowardice,<br />
+Count wisdom of no moment in the war,<br />
+In brief, esteem no act, but that of hand;<br />
+The still and thoughtful parts, which move those hands,<br />
+With them are but the tasks cut out by fear,<br />
+To be performed by valour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse<br />
+Is more of use than he; but you, grave pair,<br />
+Like Time and Wisdom marching hand in hand,<br />
+Must put a stop to these encroaching ills:<br />
+To you we leave the care;<br />
+You, who could show whence the distemper springs,<br />
+Must vindicate the dignity of kings.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>Troy.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus</span> and <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Why should I fight without the Trojan walls,<br />
+Who, without fighting, am o'erthrown within?<br />
+The Trojan who is master of a soul,<br />
+Let him to battle; Troilus has none.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Will this never be at an end with you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,<br />
+Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness wary;<br />
+But I am weaker than a woman's tears,<br />
+Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,<br />
+And artless as unpractised infancy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand</span> Well, I have told you enough of this; for
+<span class="pgnm">273</span><a id="page_273" name="page_273"></a>
+my part I'll not meddle nor make any further in
+your love; he, that will eat of the roastmeat, must
+stay for the kindling of the fire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Have I not staid?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Ay, the kindling; but you must stay the
+spitting of the meat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Have I not staid?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Ay, the spitting; but there's two words to
+a bargain; you must stay the roasting too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Still have I staid; and still the farther off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> That's but the roasting, but there's more
+in this word stay; there's the taking off the spit,
+the making of the sauce, the dishing, the setting on
+the table, and saying grace; nay, you must stay
+the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your
+chaps.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> At Priam's table pensive do I sit,<br />
+And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts&mdash;<br />
+(Can she be said to come, who ne'er was absent!)</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Well, she's a most ravishing creature; and
+she looked yesterday most killingly; she had such
+a stroke with her eyes, she cut to the quick with
+every glance of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I was about to tell thee, when my heart<br />
+Was ready with a sigh to cleave in two,<br />
+Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,<br />
+I have, with mighty anguish of my soul,<br />
+Just at the birth, stifled this still-born sigh,<br />
+And forced my face into a painful smile.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I measured her with my girdle yesterday;
+she's not half a yard about the waist, but so taper a
+shape did I never see; but when I had her in my
+arms, Lord, thought I,&mdash;and by my troth I could not
+forbear sighing,&mdash;If prince Troilus had her at this advantage
+and I were holding of the door!&mdash;An she
+were a thought taller,&mdash;but as she is, she wants not
+an inch of Helen neither; but there's no more comparison
+<span class="pgnm">274</span><a id="page_274" name="page_274"></a>
+between the women&mdash;there was wit, there
+was a sweet tongue! How her words melted in her
+mouth! Mercury would have been glad to have
+such a tongue in his mouth, I warrant him. I
+would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as
+I did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Oh Pandarus, when I tell thee I am mad<br />
+In Cressid's love, thou answer'st she is fair;<br />
+Praisest her eyes, her stature, and her wit;<br />
+But praising thus, instead of oil and balm,<br />
+Thou lay'st, in every wound her love has given me,<br />
+The sword that made it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I give her but her due.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Thou giv'st her not so much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Faith, I'll speak no more of her, let her be
+as she is; if she be a beauty, 'tis the better for her;
+an' she be not, she has the mends in her own hands,
+for Pandarus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> In spite of me, thou wilt mistake my meaning.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I have had but my labour for my pains; ill
+thought on of her, and ill thought on of you; gone
+between and between, and am ground in the mill-stones
+for my labour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> What, art thou angry, Pandarus, with thy friend?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Because she's my niece, therefore she's not
+so fair as Helen; an' she were not my niece, show
+me such another piece of woman's flesh: take her
+limb by limb: I say no more, but if Paris had seen
+her first, Menelaus had been no cuckold: but what
+care I if she were a blackamoor? what am I the better
+for her face?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Said I she was not beautiful?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I care not if you did; she's a fool to stay
+behind her father Calchas: let her to the Greeks;
+and so I'll tell her. For my part, I am resolute, I'll
+meddle no more in your affairs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> But hear me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">275</span><a id="page_275" name="page_275"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Not I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Dear Pandarus&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Pray speak no more on't; I'll not burn my
+fingers in another body's business; I'll leave it as I
+found it, and there's an end.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O gods, how do you torture me!<br />
+I cannot come to Cressida but by him,<br />
+And he's as peevish to be wooed to woo,<br />
+As she is to be won.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span> How now, prince Troilus; why not in the battle?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Because not there. This woman's answer suits me,<br />
+For womanish it is to be from thence.<br />
+What news, &AElig;neas, from the field to-day?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Paris is hurt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> By whom?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> By Menelaus. Hark what good sport<span class="sdr">[Alarm within.</span><br />
+Is out of town to-day! When I hear such music,<br />
+I cannot hold from dancing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I'll make one,<br />
+And try to lose an anxious thought or two<br />
+In heat of action.<br />
+Thus, coward-like, from love to war I run,<br />
+Seek the less dangers, and the greater shun.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Troil.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> My lord &AElig;neas, who were those went by?<br />
+I mean the ladies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Queen Hecuba and Helen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> And whither go they?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Up to the western tower,<br />
+Whose height commands, as subject, all the vale,<br />
+To see the battle. Hector, whose patience<br />
+Is fixed like that of heaven, to-day was moved;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">276</span><a id="page_276" name="page_276"></a>
+He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer,<br />
+And, as there were good husbandry in war.<br />
+Before the sun was up he went to field;<br />
+Your pardon, lady, that's my business too.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Hector's a gallant warrior.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What's that, what's that?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Good-morrow, cousin Cressida. When
+were you at court?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> This morning, uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What were you a talking, when I came?
+Was Hector armed, and gone ere ye came? Hector
+was stirring early.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> That I was talking of, and of his anger.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Was he angry, say you? true, he was so,
+and I know the cause. He was struck down yesterday
+in the battle, but he'll lay about him; he'll
+cry quittance with them to-day. I'll answer for him.
+And there's Troilus will not come far behind him:
+let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that
+too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What, was he struck down too?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man
+of the two.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Oh Jupiter! there's no comparison! Troilus
+the better man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What, no comparison between Hector and
+Troilus? do you know a man if you see him?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> No: for he may look like a man, and not
+be one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> That's what I say; for I am sure he is not
+Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> No, nor Hector is not Troilus: make your
+best of that, niece!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">277</span><a id="page_277" name="page_277"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cres.</span> 'Tis true, for each of them is himself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Himself! alas, poor Troilus! I would he
+were himself: well, the gods are all-sufficient, and
+time must mend or end. I would he were himself,
+and would I were a lady for his sake. I would not
+answer for my maidenhead.&mdash;No, Hector is not a
+better man than Troilus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Excuse me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Pardon me; Troilus is in the bud, 'tis
+early day with him; you shall tell me another tale
+when Troilus is come to bearing; and yet he will
+not bear neither, in some sense. No, Hector shall
+never have his virtues.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> No matter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Nor his beauty, nor his fashion, nor his
+wit; he shall have nothing of him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> They would not become him, his own are
+better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> How, his own better! you have no judgment,
+niece; Helen herself swore, the other day, that
+Troilus, for a manly brown complexion,&mdash;for so it
+is, I must confess&mdash;not brown neither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> No, but very brown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown.
+Come, I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better
+than Paris: nay, I'm sure she does. She comes
+me to him the other day, into the bow-window,&mdash;and
+you know Troilus has not above three or four
+hairs on his chin,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> That's but a bare commendation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> But to prove to you that Helen loves him,
+she comes, and puts me her white hand to his cloven
+chin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Has he been fighting then? how came it
+cloven?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why, you know it is dimpled. I cannot
+chuse but laugh, to think how she tickled his cloven
+<span class="pgnm">278</span><a id="page_278" name="page_278"></a>
+chin. She has a marvellous white hand, I must
+needs confess. But let that pass, for I know who
+has a whiter. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday;
+think on it, think on it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> So I do, uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I'll be sworn it is true; he will weep ye,
+an' it were a man born in April.<span class="sdr">[A retreat sounded.</span><br />
+Hark, they are returning from the field; shall we
+stay and see them as they come by, sweet niece?
+do, sweet niece Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> For once you shall command me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Here, here, here is an excellent place; we
+may see them here most bravely, and I'll tell you
+all their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus
+above the rest; mark Troilus, he's worth your marking.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">&AElig;neas</span> passes over the Stage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Speak not so loud then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> That's &AElig;neas. Is it not a brave man that?
+he's a swinger, many a Grecian he has laid with his
+face upward; but mark Troilus: you shall see anon.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antenor</span> passing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">That's Antenor; he has a notable head-piece I can
+tell you, and he's the ablest man for judgment in
+all Troy; you may turn him loose, i'faith, and by
+my troth a proper person. When comes Troilus?
+I'll shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall
+see him nod at me.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Hector</span> passes over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">That's Hector, that, that, look you that; there's
+a fellow! go thy way, Hector; there's a brave man,
+niece. O brave Hector, look how he looks! there's
+a countenance. Is it not a brave man, niece?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">279</span><a id="page_279" name="page_279"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I always told you so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Is he not? it does a man's heart good to
+look on him; look you, look you there, what hacks
+are on his helmet! this was no boy's play, i'faith; he
+laid it on with a vengeance, take it off who will, as
+they say! there are hacks, niece!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Were those with swords?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Swords, or bucklers, faulchions, darts, and
+lances! any thing, he cares not! an' the devil come,
+it is all one to him: by Jupiter he looks so terribly,
+that I am half afraid to praise him.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Paris.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris! look ye
+yonder, niece; is it not a brave young prince too?
+He draws the best bow in all Troy; he hits you to
+a span twelve-score level:&mdash;who said he came home
+hurt to-day? why, this will do Helen's heart good
+now! ha! that I could see Troilus now!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Helenus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Who's that black man, uncle?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> That is Helenus.&mdash;I marvel where Troilus
+is all this while;&mdash;that is Helenus.&mdash;I think Troilus
+went not forth to-day;&mdash;that's Helenus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Can Helenus fight, uncle?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Helenus! No, yes; he'll fight indifferently
+well.&mdash;I marvel in my heart what's become of
+Troilus:&mdash;Hark! do you not hear the people cry,
+Troilus?&mdash;Helenus is a priest, and keeps a whore;
+he'll fight for his whore, or he's no true priest, I
+warrant him.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> passing over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What sneaking fellow comes yonder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Where, yonder? that's Deiphobus: No,
+I lie. I lie, that's Troilus! there's a man, niece!
+<span class="pgnm">280</span><a id="page_280" name="page_280"></a>
+hem! O brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry, and
+flower of fidelity!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Peace, for shame, peace!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Nay, but mark him then! O brave Troilus!
+there's a man of men, niece! look you how his
+sword is bloody, and his helmet more hacked than
+Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O
+admirable youth! he never saw two-and-twenty.
+Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! had I a sister
+were a grace, and a daughter a goddess, he should
+take his choice of them. O admirable man! Paris,
+Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant, Helen, to change,
+would give all the shoes in her shop to boot.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter common Soldiers passing over.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Here come more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Asses, fools, dolts, dirt, and dung, stuff,
+and lumber, porridge after meat; but I could live
+and die with Troilus. Ne'er look, niece, ne'er look,
+the lions are gone: apes and monkeys, the fag end
+of the creation. I had rather be such a man as
+Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> There's Achilles among the Greeks, he's a
+brave man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Achilles! a carman, a beast of burden;
+a very camel: have you any eyes, niece? do you
+know a man? is he to be compared with Troilus?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Page.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> Sir, my lord Troilus would instantly speak
+with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Where boy, where?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> At his own house, if you think convenient.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Good boy, tell him I come instantly: I
+doubt he's wounded. Farewell, good niece. But I'll
+be with you by and by.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> To bring me, uncle!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">281</span><a id="page_281" name="page_281"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Ay, a token from prince Troilus.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pandar.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres</span>. By the same token, you are a procurer, uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Cressida</span> alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">A strange dissembling sex we women are:<br />
+Well may we men, when we ourselves deceive.<br />
+Long has my secret soul loved Troilus;<br />
+I drunk his praises from my uncle's mouth,<br />
+As if my ears could ne'er be satisfied:<br />
+Why then, why said I not, I love this prince?<br />
+How could my tongue conspire against my heart,<br />
+To say I loved him not? O childish love!<br />
+'Tis like an infant, froward in his play,<br />
+And what he most desires, he throws away.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Troy.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Priam, Hector, Troilus,</span> and <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> After the expence of so much time and blood,<br />
+Thus once again the Grecians send to Troy;&mdash;<br />
+Deliver Helen, and all other loss<br />
+Shall be forgotten.&mdash;Hector, what say you to it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Though no man less can fear the Greeks than I,<br />
+Yet there's no virgin of more tender heart,<br />
+More ready to cry out,&mdash;who knows the consequence?<br />
+Than Hector is; for modest doubt is mixed<br />
+With manly courage best: let Helen go.<br />
+If we have lost so many lives of ours,<br />
+To keep a thing not ours, not worth to us<br />
+The value of a man, what reason is there<br />
+Still to retain the cause of so much ill?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">282</span><a id="page_282" name="page_282"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Fye, fye, my noble brother!<br />
+Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,<br />
+So great as Asia's monarch, in a scale<br />
+Of common ounces thus?<br />
+Are fears and reasons fit to be considered,<br />
+When a king's fame is questioned?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Brother, she's not worth<br />
+What her defence has cost us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> What's aught, but as 'tis valued?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> But value dwells not in opinion only:<br />
+It holds the dignity and estimation,<br />
+As well, wherein 'tis precious of itself,<br />
+As in the prizer: 'tis idolatry,<br />
+To make the service greater than the god.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,<br />
+When we have worn them; the remaining food<br />
+Throw not away, because we now are full.<br />
+If you confess, 'twas wisdom Paris went;&mdash;<br />
+As you must needs, for you all cried, <i>Go, go:</i>&mdash;<br />
+If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize;&mdash;<br />
+As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands,<br />
+And cried, <i>Inestimable!</i>&mdash;Why do you now<br />
+So under-rate the value of your purchase?<br />
+For, let me tell you, 'tis unmanly theft,<br />
+When we have taken what we fear to keep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ne.</span> There's not the meanest spirit in our party,<br />
+Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,<br />
+When Helen is defended: None so noble,<br />
+Whose life were ill bestowed, or death unfamed,<br />
+When Helen is the subject.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> So says Paris,<br />
+Like one besotted on effeminate joys;<br />
+He has the honey still, but these the gall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;ne.</span> He not proposes merely to himself<br />
+The pleasures such a beauty brings with it;<br />
+But he would have the stain of Helen's rape<br />
+<span class="pgnm">283</span><a id="page_283" name="page_283"></a>
+Wiped off, in honourable keeping her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Troilus and &AElig;neas, you have said;<br />
+If saying superficial things be reason.<br />
+But if this Helen be another's wife,<br />
+The moral laws of nature and of nations<br />
+Speak loud she be restored. Thus to persist<br />
+In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,<br />
+But makes it much more so. Hector's opinion<br />
+Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,<br />
+My sprightly brother, I incline to you<br />
+In resolution to defend her still:<br />
+For 'tis a cause on which our Trojan honour<br />
+And common reputation will depend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Why there you touched the life of our design:<br />
+Were it not glory that we covet more<br />
+Than war and vengeance, (beasts' and women's pleasure)<br />
+I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood<br />
+Spent more in her defence; but oh! my brother,<br />
+She is a subject of renown and honour;<br />
+And I presume brave Hector would not lose<br />
+The rich advantage of his future fame<br />
+For the wide world's revenue:&mdash;I have business;<br />
+But glad I am to leave you thus resolved.<br />
+When such arms strike, ne'er doubt of the success.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> May we not guess?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You may, and be deceived.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Troil.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> A woman, on my life: even so it happens,<br />
+Religion, state-affairs, whate'er's the theme,<br />
+It ends in woman still.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Andromache.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> See, here's your wife,<br />
+To make that maxim good.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Welcome, Andromache: your looks are chearful,<br />
+You bring some pleasing news.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> Nothing that's serious.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">284</span><a id="page_284" name="page_284"></a>
+Your little son Astyanax has employed me<br />
+As his ambassadress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Upon what errand?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> No less than that his grandfather this day<br />
+Would make him knight: he longs to kill a Grecian:<br />
+For should he stay to be a man, he thinks<br />
+You'll kill them all; and leave no work for him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> Your own blood, Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> And therefore he designs to send a challenge<br />
+To Agamemnon, Ajax, or Achilles,<br />
+To prove they do not well to burn our fields,<br />
+And keep us cooped like prisoners in a town,<br />
+To lead this lazy life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What sparks of honour<br />
+Fly from this child! the gods speak in him sure:<br />
+&mdash;It shall be so&mdash;I'll do't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> What means my son?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> To send a challenge to the boldest Greek.<br />
+Is not that country ours? those fruitful fields<br />
+Washed by yon silver flood, are they not ours?<br />
+Those teeming vines that tempt our longing eyes,<br />
+Shall we behold them? shall we call them ours,<br />
+And dare not make them so? by heavens I'll know<br />
+Which of these haughty Grecians dares to think<br />
+He can keep Hector prisoner here in Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> If Hector only were a private man,<br />
+This would be courage; but in him 'tis madness.<br />
+The general safety on your life depends;<br />
+And, should you perish in this rash attempt,<br />
+Troy with a groan would feel her soul go out,<br />
+And breathe her last in you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> The task you undertake is hazardous:<br />
+Suppose you win, what would the profit be?<br />
+If Ajax or Achilles fell beneath<br />
+Your thundering arm, would all the rest depart?<br />
+Would Agamemnon, or his injured brother,<br />
+Set sail for this? then it were worth your danger.<br />
+But, as it is, we throw our utmost stake<br />
+<span class="pgnm">285</span><a id="page_285" name="page_285"></a>
+Against whole heaps of theirs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> He tells you true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Suppose one Ajax, or Achilles lost,<br />
+They can repair with more that single loss:<br />
+Troy has but one, one Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> No, &AElig;neas!<br />
+What then art thou; and what is Troilus?<br />
+What will Astyanax be?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> An Hector one day,<br />
+But you must let him live to be a Hector;<br />
+And who shall make him such, when you are gone?<br />
+Who shall instruct his tenderness in arms,<br />
+Or give his childhood lessons of the war?<br />
+Who shall defend the promise of his youth,<br />
+And make it bear in manhood? the young sapling<br />
+Is shrouded long beneath the mother-tree,<br />
+Before it be transplanted from its earth,<br />
+And trust itself for growth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Alas, my father!<br />
+You have not drawn one reason from yourself,<br />
+But public safety, and my son's green years:<br />
+In this neglecting that main argument,<br />
+Trust me you chide my filial piety;<br />
+As if I could be won from my resolves<br />
+By Troy, or by my son, or any name<br />
+More dear to me than yours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> I did not name myself, because I know<br />
+When thou art gone, I need no Grecian sword<br />
+To help me die, but only Hector's loss.&mdash;<br />
+Daughter, why speak not you? why stand you silent?<br />
+Have you no right in Hector, as a wife?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> I would be worthy to be Hector's wife:<br />
+And had I been a man, as my soul's one,<br />
+I had aspired a nobler name,&mdash;his friend.<br />
+How I love Hector,&mdash;need I say I love him?&mdash;<br />
+I am not but in him:<br />
+But when I see him arming for his honour,<br />
+His country and his gods, that martial fire,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">286</span><a id="page_286" name="page_286"></a>
+That mounts his courage, kindles even to me:<br />
+And when the Trojan matrons wait him out<br />
+With prayers, and meet with blessings his return,<br />
+The pride of virtue beats within my breast,<br />
+To wipe away the sweat and dust of war,<br />
+And dress my hero glorious in his wounds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Come to my arms, thou manlier virtue, come!<br />
+Thou better name than wife! would'st thou not blush<br />
+To hug a coward thus?<span class="sdr">[Embrace.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> Yet still I fear!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> There spoke a woman; pardon, royal sir;<br />
+Has he not met a thousand lifted swords<br />
+Of thick-ranked Grecians, and shall one affright him?<br />
+There's not a day but he encounters armies;<br />
+And yet as safe, as if the broad-brimmed shield,<br />
+That Pallas wears, were held 'twixt him and death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Thou know'st me well, and thou shalt praise me more;<br />
+Gods make me worthy of thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andro.</span> You shall be<br />
+My knight this day; you shall not wear a cause<br />
+So black as Helen's rape upon your breast.<br />
+Let Paris fight for Helen; guilt for guilt:<br />
+But when you fight for honour and for me,<br />
+Then let our equal gods behold an act,<br />
+They may not blush to crown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> &AElig;neas, go,<br />
+And bear my challenge to the Grecian camp.<br />
+If there be one amongst the best of Greece,<br />
+Who holds his honour higher than his ease,<br />
+Who knows his valour, and knows not his fear;<br />
+Who loves his mistress more than in confession,<br />
+And dares avow her beauty and her worth,<br />
+In other arms than hers,&mdash;to him this challenge.<br />
+I have a lady of more truth and beauty,<br />
+Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;<br />
+And will to-morrow, with the trumpet's call,<br />
+Mid-way between their tents and these our walls,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">287</span><a id="page_287" name="page_287"></a>
+Maintain what I have said. If any come,<br />
+My sword shall honour him; if none shall dare,<br />
+Then shall I say, at my return to Troy,<br />
+The Grecian dames are sun-burnt, and not worth<br />
+The splinter of a lance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> It shall be told them,<br />
+As boldly as you gave it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priam.</span> Heaven protect thee!<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Yonder he stands, poor wretch! there
+stands he with such a look, and such a face, and
+such begging eyes! there he stands, poor prisoner!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> What a deluge of words do you pour out,
+uncle, to say just nothing?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Nothing, do you call it! is that nothing,
+do you call that nothing? why he looks, for all the
+world, like one of your rascally malefactors, just
+thrown off the gibbet, with his cap down, his arms
+tied down, his feet sprunting, his body swinging.
+Nothing do you call it? this is nothing, with a
+vengeance!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Or, what think you of a hurt bird, that
+flutters about with a broken wing?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why go to then, he cannot fly away then;
+then, that's certain, that's undoubted: there he lies
+to be taken up: but if you had seen him, when I
+said to him,&mdash;Take a good heart, man, and follow
+me; and fear no colours, and speak your mind, man:
+she can never stand you; she will fall, an' 'twere
+a leaf in autumn,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Did you tell him all this, without my consent?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why you did consent, your eyes consented;
+they blabbed, they leered, their very corners
+<span class="pgnm">288</span><a id="page_288" name="page_288"></a>
+blabbed. But you'll say, your tongue said nothing.
+No, I warrant it: your tongue was wiser; your
+tongue was better bred; your tongue kept its own
+counsel: nay, I'll say that for you, your tongue
+said nothing.&mdash;Well, such a shamefaced couple did
+I never see, days o'my life! so 'fraid of one another;
+such ado to bring you to the business! Well, if this
+job were well over, if ever I lose my pains again
+with an aukward couple, let me be painted in the
+sign-post for the <i>labour in vain</i>: Fye upon't, fye
+upon't! there's no conscience in't: all honest people
+will cry shame on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Where is this monster to be shown? what's
+to be given for a sight of him?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why, ready money, ready money; you carry
+it about you: give and take is square-dealing;
+for in my conscience he's as arrant a maid as you
+are. I was fain to use violence to him, to pull him
+hither: and he pulled, and I pulled: for you must
+know he's absolutely the strongest youth in Troy.
+T'other day he took Helen in one hand, and Paris
+in t'other, and danc'd 'em at one another at arms-end
+an' 'twere two moppets:&mdash;there was a back! there
+were bone and sinews! there was a back for you!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> For these good procuring offices you'll be
+damned one day, uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Who, I damned? Faith, I doubt I shall; by
+my troth I think I shall: nay if a man be damned
+for doing good, as thou say'st, it may go hard with
+me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Then I'll not see prince Troilus; I'll not be
+accessary to your damnation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> How, not see prince Troilus? why I have
+engaged, I have promised, I have past my word. I
+care not for damning, let me alone for damning; I
+value not damning in comparison with my word.
+If I am damned, it shall be a good damning to thee,
+<span class="pgnm">289</span><a id="page_289" name="page_289"></a>
+girl, thou shalt be my heir; come, 'tis a virtuous girl;
+thou shalt help me to keep my word, thou shalt see
+prince Troilus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> The venture's great.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> No venture in the world; thy mother ventured
+it for thee, and thou shalt venture it for my
+little cousin, that must be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Weigh but my fears: Prince Troilus is
+young.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Marry is he; there's no fear in that, I hope:
+the fear were, if he were old and feeble.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> And I a woman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> No fear yet; thou art a woman, and he's
+a man; put them together, put them together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> And if I should be frail&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> There's all my fear, that thou art not frail:
+thou should'st be frail, all flesh is frail.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cress.</span> Are you my uncle, and can give this counsel
+to your own brother's daughter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> If thou wert my own daughter a thousand
+times over, I could do no better for thee; what
+wouldst thou have, girl? he's a prince, and a young
+prince and a loving young prince! an uncle, dost
+thou call me? by Cupid, I am a father to thee; get
+thee in, get thee in, girl, I hear him coming. And
+do you hear, niece! I give you leave to deny a
+little, 'twill be decent; but take heed of obstinacy,
+that's a vice; no obstinacy, my dear niece.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Now, Pandarus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Now, my sweet prince! have you seen my
+niece? no, I know you have not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> No, Pandarus; I stalk about your doors.<br />
+Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks,<br />
+Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">290</span><a id="page_290" name="page_290"></a>
+And give me swift transportance to Elysium,<br />
+And fly with me to Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Walk here a moment more: I'll bring her
+strait.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I fear she will not come; most sure she
+will not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> How, not come, and I her uncle! why, I
+tell you, prince, she twitters at you. Ah poor sweet
+rogue! ah, little rogue, now does she think, and
+think, and think again of what must be betwixt
+you two. Oh sweet,&mdash;oh sweet&mdash;O&mdash;what, not
+come, and I her uncle?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Still thou flatter'st me; but pr'ythee flatter
+still; for I would hope; I would not wake out
+of my pleasing dream. Oh hope, how sweet thou
+art! but to hope always, and have no effect of what
+we hope!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Oh faint heart, faint heart! well, there's
+much good matter in these old proverbs! No, she'll
+not come, I warrant her; she has no blood of mine
+in her, not so much as will fill a flea. But if she
+does not come, and come, and come with a swing
+into your arms&mdash;I say no more, but she has renounced
+all grace, and there's an end.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I will believe thee: go then, but be sure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> No, you would not have me go; you are
+indifferent&mdash;shall I go, say you? speak the word
+then:&mdash;yet I care not: you may stand in your own
+light, and lose a sweet young lady's heart&mdash;well, I
+shall not go then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Fly, fly, thou torturest me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Do I so, do I so? do I torture you indeed?
+well, I will go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> But yet thou dost not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I go immediately, directly, in a twinkling,
+with a thought: yet you think a man never does
+enough for you; I have been labouring in your business
+<span class="pgnm">291</span><a id="page_291" name="page_291"></a>
+like any moyle. I was with prince Paris this
+morning, to make your excuse at night for not supping
+at court; and I found him&mdash;faith, how do
+you think I found him? it does my heart good to
+think how I found him: yet you think a man never
+does enough for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Will you go then?&mdash;What's this to Cressida?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why, you will not hear a man! what's this
+to Cressida? Why, I found him a-bed, a-bed with
+Helena, by my troth: 'Tis a sweet queen, a sweet
+queen; a very sweet queen,&mdash;but she's nothing to
+my cousin Cressida; she's a blowse, a gipsy, a
+tawny moor to my cousin Cressida; and she lay
+with one white arm underneath the whoreson's
+neck: Oh such a white, lilly-white, round, plump
+arm as it was&mdash;and you must know it was stripped
+up to the elbows; and she did so kiss him, and so
+huggle him!&mdash;as who should say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> But still thou stayest:&mdash;what's this to Cressida?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Why, I made your excuse to your brother
+Paris; that I think's to Cressida:&mdash;but such an arm,
+such a hand, such taper fingers! t'other hand was
+under the bed-cloaths; that I saw not, I confess;
+that hand I saw not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Again thou torturest me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Nay, I was tortured too; old as I am, I
+was tortured too: but for all that, I could make a
+shift, to make him, to make your excuse, to make
+your father&mdash;by Jove, when I think of that hand,
+I am so ravished, that I know not what I say: I
+was tortured too.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Troilus</span> turns away discontented.</span><br />
+Well, I go, I go; I fetch her, I bring her, I conduct
+her; not come quotha, and I her uncle!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round:<br />
+The imaginary relish is so sweet,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">292</span><a id="page_292" name="page_292"></a>
+That it enchants my sense; what will it be,<br />
+When I shall taste that nectar?<br />
+It must be either death, or joy too fine<br />
+For the capacity of human powers.<br />
+I fear it much: and I do fear beside,<br />
+That I shall lose distinction in my joys;<br />
+As does a battle, when they charge on heaps<br />
+A flying enemy.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> She's making her ready; she'll come strait:
+you must be witty now!&mdash;she does so blush, and
+fetches her breath so short, as if she were frighted
+with a sprite; 'tis the prettiest villain! she fetches
+her breath so short, as 'twere a new-ta'en sparrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Just such a passion does heave up my breast!<br />
+My heart beats thicker than a feverish pulse:<br />
+I know not where I am, nor what I do;<br />
+Just like a slave, at unawares encountering<br />
+The eye of majesty.&mdash;Lead on, I'll follow.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.&mdash;<i>The Camp.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Nestor,</span> and <span class="cnm">Ulysses.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> I have conceived an embryo in my brain:<br />
+Be you my time to bring it to some shape.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> What is't, Ulysses?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> The seeded pride,<br />
+That has to this maturity blown up<br />
+In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped,<br />
+Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like ill,<br />
+To overtop us all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> That's my opinion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> This challenge which &AElig;neas brings from Hector,<br />
+However it be spread in general terms,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">293</span><a id="page_293" name="page_293"></a>
+Relates in purpose only to Achilles.<br />
+And will it wake him to the answer, think you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> It ought to do: whom can we else oppose,<br />
+Who could from Hector bring his honour off,<br />
+If not Achilles? the success of this,<br />
+Although particular, will give an omen<br />
+Of good or bad, even to the general cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Pardon me, Nestor, if I contradict you:<br />
+Therefore 'tis fit Achilles meet not Hector.<br />
+Let us, like merchants, show our coarsest wares,<br />
+And think, perchance they'll sell; but, if they do not,<br />
+The lustre of our better, yet unshown,<br />
+Will show the better: let us not consent,<br />
+Our greatest warrior should be matched with Hector;<br />
+For both our honour and our shame in this<br />
+Shall be attended with strange followers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> I see them not with my old eyes; what are they?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> What glory our Achilles gains from Hector,<br />
+Were he not proud, we all should share with him:<br />
+But he already is too insolent:<br />
+And we had better parch in Afric sun,<br />
+Than in his pride, should he 'scape Hector fair.<br />
+But grant he should be foiled;<br />
+Why then our common reputation suffers<br />
+In that of our best man. No, make a lottery;<br />
+And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw<br />
+The chance to fight with Hector: among ourselves,<br />
+Give him allowance as the braver man;<br />
+For that will physic the great Myrmidon,<br />
+Who swells with loud applause; and make him fall<br />
+His crest, if brainless Ajax come safe off:<br />
+If not, we yet preserve a fair opinion,<br />
+That we have better men.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Now I begin to relish thy advice:<br />
+Come, let us go to Agamemnon strait,<br />
+To inform him of our project.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">294</span><a id="page_294" name="page_294"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> 'Tis not ripe.<br />
+The skilful surgeon will not lance a sore,<br />
+Till nature has digested and prepared<br />
+The growing humours to her healing purpose;<br />
+Else must he often grieve the patient's sense,<br />
+When one incision, once well-timed, would serve.<br />
+Are not Achilles and dull Ajax friends?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> As much as fools can be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> That knot of friendship first must be untied,<br />
+Ere we can reach our ends; for, while they love each other,<br />
+Both hating us, will draw too strong a bias,<br />
+And all the camp will lean that way they draw;<br />
+For brutal courage is the soldier's idol:<br />
+So, if one prove contemptuous, backed by t'other,<br />
+'Twill give the law to cool and sober sense,<br />
+And place the power of war in madmen's hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Now I conceive you; were they once divided,<br />
+And one of them made ours, that one would check<br />
+The other's towering growth, and keep both low,<br />
+As instruments, and not as lords of war.<br />
+And this must be by secret coals of envy<br />
+Blown in their breast; comparisons of worth;<br />
+Great actions weighed of each; and each the best,<br />
+As we shall give him voice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Here comes Thersites,</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Who feeds on Ajax, yet loves him not, because he cannot love;<br />
+But, as a species differing from mankind,<br />
+Hates all he sees, and rails at all he knows;<br />
+But hates them most from whom he most receives,<br />
+Disdaining that his lot should be so low,<br />
+That he should want the kindness which he takes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> There's none so fit an engine:&mdash;Save ye, Thersites.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">295</span><a id="page_295" name="page_295"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Hail, noble Grecian! thou relief of toils,<br />
+Soul of our mirth, and joy of sullen war,<br />
+In whose converse our winter nights are short,<br />
+And summer days not tedious.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Hang you both.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> How, hang us both!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> But hang thee first, thou very reverend fool!<br />
+Thou sapless oak, that liv'st by wanting thought,<br />
+And now, in thy three hundredth year, repin'st<br />
+Thou shouldst be felled: hanging's a civil death,<br />
+The death of men; thou canst not hang; thy trunk<br />
+Is only fit for gallows to hang others.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> A fine greeting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> A fine old dotard, to repine at hanging<br />
+At such an age! what saw the Gods in thee,<br />
+That a cock-sparrow should but live three years,<br />
+And thou shouldst last three ages? he's thy better;<br />
+He uses life; he treads himself to death.<br />
+Thou hast forgot thy use some hundred years.<br />
+Thou stump of man, thou worn-out broom, thou lumber!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> I'll hear no more of him, his poison works;<br />
+What, curse me for my age!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Hold, you mistake him, Nestor; 'tis his custom:<br />
+What malice is there in a mirthful scene?<br />
+'Tis but a keen-edged sword, spread o'er with balm,<br />
+To heal the wound it makes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thou beg'st a curse?<br />
+May'st thou quit scores then, and be hanged on Nestor,<br />
+Who hangs on thee! thou lead'st him by the nose;<br />
+Thou play'st him like a puppet; speak'st within him;<br />
+And when thou hast contrived some dark design,<br />
+To lose a thousand Greeks, make dogs-meat of us,<br />
+Thou lay'st thy cuckoo's egg within his nest,<br />
+And mak'st him hatch it; teachest his remembrance<br />
+<span class="pgnm">296</span><a id="page_296" name="page_296"></a>
+To lie, and say, the like of it was practised<br />
+Two hundred years ago; thou bring'st the brain,<br />
+And he brings only beard to vouch thy plots.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> I'm no man's fool.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Then be thy own, that's worse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> He'll rail all day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Then we shall learn all day.<br />
+Who forms the body to a graceful carriage,<br />
+Must imitate our aukward motions first;<br />
+The same prescription does the wise Thersites<br />
+Apply, to mend our minds. The same he uses<br />
+To Ajax, to Achilles, to the rest;<br />
+His satires are the physic of the camp.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Would they were poison to't, ratsbane and hemlock!<br />
+Nothing else can mend you, and those two brawny fools.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> He hits 'em right;<br />
+Are they not such, my Nestor?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Dolt-heads, asses,<br />
+And beasts of burden; Ajax and Achilles!<br />
+The pillars, no, the porters of the war.<br />
+Hard-headed rogues! engines, mere wooden engines<br />
+Pushed on to do your work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> They are indeed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> But what a rogue art thou,<br />
+To say they are indeed! Heaven made them horses,<br />
+And thou put'st on their harness, rid'st and spurr'st them;<br />
+Usurp'st upon heaven's fools, and mak'st them thine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> No; they are headstrong fools, to be corrected<br />
+By none but by Thersites; thou alone<br />
+Canst tame and train them to their proper use;<br />
+And, doing this, may'st claim a just reward<br />
+From Greece and royal Agamemnon's hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">297</span><a id="page_297" name="page_297"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Ay, when you need a man, you talk of giving,<br />
+For wit's a dear commodity among you;<br />
+But when you do not want him, then stale porridge,<br />
+A starved dog would not lap, and furrow water,<br />
+Is all the wine we taste: give drabs and pimps;<br />
+I'll have no gifts with hooks at end of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Is this a man, O Nestor, to be bought?<br />
+Asia's not price enough! bid the world for him.<br />
+And shall this man, this Hermes, this Apollo,<br />
+Sit lag of Ajax' table, almost minstrel,<br />
+And with his presence grace a brainless feast?<br />
+Why they con sense from him, grow wits by rote,<br />
+And yet, by ill repeating, libel him,<br />
+Making his wit their nonsense: nay, they scorn him;<br />
+Call him bought railer, mercenary tongue!<br />
+Play him for sport at meals, and kick him off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Yes, they can kick; my buttocks feel they can;<br />
+They have their asses tricks; but I'll eat pebbles,<br />
+I'll starve,&mdash;'tis brave to starve, 'tis like a soldier,&mdash;<br />
+Before I'll feed those wit-starved rogues with sense.<br />
+They shall eat dry, and choak for want of wit,<br />
+Ere they be moistened with one drop of mine.<br />
+Ajax and Achilles! two mud-walls of fool,<br />
+That only differ in degrees of thickness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> I'd be revenged of both. When wine fumes high,<br />
+Set them to prate, to boast their brutal strength,<br />
+To vie their stupid courage, till they quarrel,<br />
+And play at hard head with their empty skulls.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Yes; they shall butt and kick, and all the while<br />
+I'll think they kick for me; they shall fell timber<br />
+On both sides, and then logwood will be cheap.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> And Agamemnon&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Pox of Agamemnon!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">298</span><a id="page_298" name="page_298"></a>
+Cannot I do a mischief for myself,<br />
+But he must thank me for't?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> to <i>Nest.</i> Away; our work is done.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> and <span class="cnm">Nest.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> This Agamemnon is a king of clouts,<br />
+A chip in porridge,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ajax.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Thersites.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Set up to frighten daws from cherry-trees,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Dog!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> A standard to march under.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Thou bitch-wolf! can'st thou not hear? feel then.
+<span class="sdr">[Strikes him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> The plague of Greece, and Helen's pox light on thee,<br />
+Thou mongrel mastiff, thou beef-witted lord!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Speak then, thou mouldy leaven of the camp;<br />
+Speak, or I'll beat thee into handsomeness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I shall sooner rail thee into wit; thou
+canst kick, canst thou? A red murrain on thy jades
+tricks!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Tell me the proclamation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> You whorson cur, take that.<span class="sdr">[Strikes him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thou scurvy valiant ass!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Thou slave!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thou lord!&mdash;Ay, do, do,&mdash;would my buttocks
+were iron, for thy sake!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you this?<br />
+How now, Thersites, what's the matter, man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I say this Ajax wears his wit in's belly,
+and his guts in's brains.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Peace, fool.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I would have peace, but the fool will not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">299</span><a id="page_299" name="page_299"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Patro.</span> But what's the quarrel?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> I bade him tell me the proclamation, and
+he rails upon me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I serve thee not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> I shall cut out your tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much
+sense as thou afterwards. I'll see you hanged ere I
+come any more to your tent; I'll keep where there's
+wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Nay, thou shalt not go, Thersites, till we
+have squeezed the venom out of thee: pr'ythee, inform
+us of this proclamation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Why, you empty fuz-balls, your heads are
+full of nothing else but proclamations.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Tell us the news, I say.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> You say! why you never said any thing
+in all your life. But, since you will know, it is proclaimed
+through the army, that Hector is to cudgel
+you to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> How, cudgel him, Thersites!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Nay, you may take a child's part on't if
+you have so much courage, for Hector has challenged
+the toughest of the Greeks; and it is in dispute
+which of your two heads is the soundest timber.
+A knotty piece of work he'll have betwixt
+your noddles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> If Hector be to fight with any Greek,<br />
+He knows his man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Yes; he may know his man without art
+magic.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> So he had need; for, to my certain knowledge,
+neither of you two are conjurers to inform
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> to <i>Ajax.</i> You do not mean yourself, sure?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> I mean nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thou mean'st so always.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Umh! mean nothing!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">300</span><a id="page_300" name="page_300"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] Jove, if it be thy will, let these
+two fools quarrel about nothing! 'tis a cause that's
+worthy of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> You said he knew his man; is there but one?<br />
+One man amongst the Greeks?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Since you will have it,<br />
+But one to fight with Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Then I am he.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Weak Ajax!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Weak Achilles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Weak indeed; God help you both!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Come, this must be no quarrel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> There's no cause for't</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> He tells you true, you are both equal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Fools.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> I can brook no comparisons.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Nor I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Well, Ajax.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Well, Achilles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> So, now they quarrel in monosyllables; a
+word and a blow, an't be thy will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> You may hear more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> I would.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Expect.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Farewell.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Curse on them, they want wine; your
+true fool will never fight without it. Or a drab, a
+drab; Oh for a commodious drab betwixt them!
+would Helen had been here! then it had come to
+something.<br />
+<span class="i1">Dogs, lions, bulls, for females tear and gore;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And the beast, man, is valiant for his whore.</span>
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">301</span><a id="page_301" name="page_301"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Shall the idiot Ajax use me thus? he beats
+me, and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! would
+I could but beat him, and he railed at me! Then
+there's Achilles, a rare engineer; if Troy be not taken
+till these two undermine it, the walls will stand
+till they fall of themselves. Now the plague on the
+whole camp, or rather the pox; for that's a curse
+dependent on those that fight, as we do, for a cuckold's
+quean.&mdash;What, ho, my lord Achilles!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Who's there, Thersites? Good Thersites,
+come in and rail.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> If I could have remembered an ass with
+gilt trappings, thou hadst not slipped out of my
+contemplation. But it is no matter: thyself upon
+thyself! the common curse of mankind, folly
+and ignorance, be thine in great abundance! Heavens
+bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come
+not near thee!&mdash;I have said my prayers; and the
+devil, Envy, say Amen. Where's Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Achilles.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Who's there, Thersites? Why, my digestion,
+why hast thou not served thyself to my table
+so many meals? Come, begin; what's Agamemnon?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thy commander, Achilles.&mdash;Then tell me,
+Patroclus, what's Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Thy benefactor, Thersites. Then tell me,
+pr'ythee, what's thyself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me,
+Patroclus, what art thou?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">302</span><a id="page_302" name="page_302"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Thou mayest tell, that knowest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> O, tell, tell.&mdash;This must be very foolish;
+and I die to have my spleen tickled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon
+commands Achilles; Achilles is my benefactor;
+I am Patroclus's knower; and Patroclus is a fool.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> You rascal!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil,</span> He is a privileged man; proceed, Thersites.
+Ha, ha, ha! pr'ythee, proceed, while I am in
+the vein of laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> And all these foresaid men are fools. Agamemnon's
+a fool, to offer to command Achilles;
+Achilles is a fool, to be commanded by him; I am
+a fool, to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool
+positive.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Why am I a fool?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Make that demand to heaven; it suffices
+me, thou art one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Acini.</span> Ha, ha, ha! O give me ribs of steel, or I
+shall split with pleasure.&mdash;Now play me Nestor at
+a night alarm: mimick him rarely; make him cough
+and spit, and fumble with his gorget, and shake the
+rivets with his palsy hand, in and out, in and out;
+gad, that's exceeding foolish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Nestor shall not escape so; he has told us
+what we are. Come, what's Nestor?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Why, he is an old wooden top, set up by
+father Time three hundred years ago, that hums to
+Agamemnon and Ulysses, and sleeps to all the world
+besides.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> So let him sleep, for I'll no more of him.&mdash;O,
+my Patroclus, I but force a smile; Ajax has
+drawn the lot, and all the praise of Hector must be
+his.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I hope to see his praise upon his shoulders,
+in blows and bruises; his arms, thighs, and body,
+all full of fame, such fame as he gave me; and a
+<span class="pgnm">303</span><a id="page_303" name="page_303"></a>
+wide hole at last full in his bosom, to let in day
+upon him, and discover the inside of a fool.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> How he struts in expectation of honour!
+he knows not what he does.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Nay, that's no wonder, for he never did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Pr'ythee, say how he behaves himself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> O, you would be learning to practise against
+such another time?&mdash;Why, he tosses up his head as
+he had built castles in the air; and he treads upward
+to them, stalks into the element; he surveys
+himself, as it were to look for Ajax: he would be
+cried, for he has lost himself; nay, he knows nobody;
+I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax," and he replied,
+"Thanks, Agamemnon."</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Thou shalt be my ambassador to him, Thersites.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> No, I'll put on his person; let Patroclus
+make his demands to me, and you shall see the
+pageant of Ajax.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire
+the valiant Ajax to invite the noble Hector to
+my tent; and to procure safe conduct for him from
+our captain general Agamemnon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Jove bless the mighty Ajax!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Humh!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> I come from the great Achilles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Who most humbly desires you to invite
+Hector to his tent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Humh!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> And to procure him safe conduct from
+Agamemnon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Agamemnon?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Ay, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> What say you to it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Farewell, with all my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">304</span><a id="page_304" name="page_304"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Your answer, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven
+o'clock it will go one way or the other; however,
+he shall buy me dearly. Fare you well, with all
+my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> No; but he's thus out of tune. What
+music will be in him when Hector has knocked
+out his brains, I know not, nor I care not; but if
+emptiness makes noise, his head will make melody.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred;
+And I myself see not the bottom on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Would the fountain of his mind were clear,
+that he might see an ass in it! I had rather be a
+tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ignorance.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Agamemnon, Ajax, Diomedes,</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Menelaus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Look, who comes here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody;&mdash;come
+in after me, Thersites.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Again.</span> Where's Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Within, but ill disposed, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Men.</span> We saw him at the opening of his tent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Again.</span> Let it be known to him, that we are here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> I shall say so to him.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Patroc.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I know he is not sick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you
+may call it melancholy, if you will humour him;
+but, on my honour, it is no more than pride; and
+why should he be proud?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Men.</span> Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles
+with him.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">305</span><a id="page_305" name="page_305"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry<br />
+If any thing more than your sport and pleasure<br />
+Did move you to this visit: He's not well,<br />
+And begs you would excuse him, as unfit<br />
+For present business.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> How! how's this, Patroclus?<br />
+We are too well acquainted with these answers.<br />
+Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues<br />
+Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss.<br />
+We came to speak with him; you shall not err,<br />
+If you return, we think him over-proud,<br />
+And under-honest. Tell him this; and add,<br />
+That if he overhold his price so much,<br />
+We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine<br />
+Not portable, lie lag of all the camp.<br />
+A stirring dwarf is of more use to us,<br />
+Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> I shall, and bring his answer presently.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> I'll not be satisfied, but by himself:<br />
+So tell him, Menelaus.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Menelaus</span> and <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> What's he more than another?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> No more than what he thinks himself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Is he so much? Do you not think, he
+thinks himself a better man than me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> No doubt he does.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Do you think so?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant
+but much more courteous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Why should a man be proud? I know not
+what pride is; I hate a proud man, as I hate the
+engendering of toads.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] 'Tis strange he should, and love
+himself so well.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">306</span><a id="page_306" name="page_306"></a>
+Re-enter <span class="cnm">Menelaus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Men.</span> Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> What's his excuse?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Men.</span> Why, he relies on none<br />
+But his own will; possessed he is with vanity.<br />
+What should I say? he is so plaguy proud,<br />
+That the death-tokens of it are upon him,<br />
+And bode there's no recovery.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">  Enter <span class="cnm">Ulysses</span> and <span class="cnm">Nestor.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Let Ajax go to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> O Agamemnon, let it not be so.<br />
+We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,<br />
+When they go from Achilles. Shall that proud man<br />
+Be worshipped by a greater than himself,<br />
+One, whom we hold our idol?<br />
+Shall Ajax go to him? No, Jove forbid,<br />
+And say in thunder, go to him, Achilles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] O, this is well; he rubs him where
+it itches.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> If I go to him, with my gauntlet clenched
+I'll pash him o'er the face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> O no, you shall not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> An he be proud with me, I'll cure his pride;
+a paultry insolent fellow!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> How he describes himself!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> The crow chides blackness: [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;Here
+is a man,&mdash;but 'tis before his face, and therefore I am
+silent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Wherefore are you? He is not envious, as
+Achilles is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Know all the world, he is as valiant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with
+us! Would a were a Trojan!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Thank heaven, my lord, you're of a gentle nature;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">307</span><a id="page_307" name="page_307"></a>
+Praise him that got you, her that brought you forth;<br />
+But he, who taught you first the use of arms,<br />
+Let Mars divide eternity in two,<br />
+And give him half. I will not praise your wisdom,<br />
+Nestor shall do't; but, pardon, father Nestor,&mdash;<br />
+Were you as green as Ajax, and your brain<br />
+Tempered like his, you never should excel him,<br />
+But be as Ajax is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Shall I call you father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Ay, my good son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Be ruled by him, lord Ajax.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> There is no staying here; the hart Achilles<br />
+Keeps thicket;&mdash;please it our great general,<br />
+I shall impart a counsel, which, observed,<br />
+May cure the madman's pride.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> In my own tent our talk will be more private.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> But nothing without Ajax;<br />
+He is the soul and substance of my counsels,<br />
+And I am but his shadow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> You shall see<br />
+I am not like Achilles.<br />
+Let us confer, and I'll give counsel too.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus, Troilus,</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's
+a baby; swear the oaths now to her, that you swore
+to me: What, are you gone again? you must be
+watched ere you are made tame, must you? Why
+don't you speak to her first?&mdash;Come, draw this curtain
+and let's see your picture; alas-a-day, how loth
+you are to offend day-light! [<span class="sdm">They kiss.</span>] That's
+well, that's well; nay, you shall fight your hearts
+out ere I part you. So so&mdash;so so&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">308</span><a id="page_308" name="page_308"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You have bereft me of all words, fair Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Words pay no debts; give her deeds.&mdash;What
+billing again! Here's, in witness whereof the
+parties interchangeably&mdash;come in, come in, you
+lose time both.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O Cressida, how often have I wished me
+here!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Wished, my lord!&mdash;The gods grant!&mdash;O,
+my lord&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> What should they grant? what makes this
+pretty interruption in thy words?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I speak I know not what!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Speak ever so; and if I answer you<br />
+I know not what&mdash;it shows the more of love.<br />
+Love is a child that talks in broken language,<br />
+Yet then he speaks most plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I find it true, that to be wise, and love,<br />
+Are inconsistent things.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What, blushing still! have you not done
+talking yet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate
+to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> I thank you for that; if my lord get a
+boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my
+lord; if he flinch, I'll be hanged for him.&mdash;Now am
+I in my kingdom!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You know your pledges now; your uncle's
+word, and my firm faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Nay, I'll give my word for her too: Our
+kindred are constant; they are burs, I can assure
+you; they'll stick where they are thrown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Boldness comes to me now, and I can speak:<br />
+Prince Troilus, I have loved you long.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord&mdash;<br />
+What have I blabbed? who will be true to us,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">309</span><a id="page_309" name="page_309"></a>
+When we are so unfaithful to ourselves!<br />
+O bid me hold my tongue; for, in this rapture,<br />
+Sure I shall speak what I should soon repent.<br />
+But stop my mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> A sweet command, and willingly obeyed.<span class="sdr">[Kisses.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Pretty, i'faith!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;<br />
+'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.<br />
+I am ashamed;&mdash;O heavens, what have I done!<br />
+For this time let me take my leave, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow
+morning, call me Cut.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Pray, let me go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Why, what offends you, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> My own company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You cannot shun yourself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Let me go try;<br />
+I have a kind of self resides in you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Oh that I thought truth could be in a woman,<br />
+(As if it can, I will presume in you,)<br />
+That my integrity and faith might meet<br />
+The same return from her, who has my heart,<br />
+How should I be exalted! but, alas,<br />
+I am more plain than dull simplicity,<br />
+And artless as the infancy of truth!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> In that I must not yield to you, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> All constant lovers shall, in future ages,<br />
+Approve their truth by Troilus. When their verse<br />
+Wants similes,&mdash;as turtles to their mates,<br />
+Or true as flowing tides are to the moon,<br />
+Earth to the centre, iron to adamant,&mdash;<br />
+At last, when truth is tired with repetition,<br />
+As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse,<br />
+And sanctify the numbers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Prophet may you be!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">310</span><a id="page_310" name="page_310"></a>
+If I am false, or swerve from truth of love,<br />
+When Time is old, and has forgot itself<br />
+In all things else, let it remember me;<br />
+And, after all comparisons of falsehood,<br />
+To stab the heart of perjury in maids,<br />
+Let it be said&mdash;as false as Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Go to, little ones; a bargain made. Here
+I hold your hand, and here my cousin's: if ever you
+prove false to one another, after I have taken such
+pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between
+be called to the world's end after my name,
+<i>Pandars.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> And will you promise, that the holy priest<br />
+Shall make us one for ever?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Priests! marry hang them, they make you
+one! Go in, go in, and make yourselves one without
+a priest; I'll have no priest's work in my house.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I'll not consent, unless you swear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Ay, do, do swear; a pretty woman's worth
+an oath at any time. Keep or break, as time shall
+try; but it is good to swear, for the saving of her
+credit. Hang them, sweet rogues, they never expect
+a man should keep it. Let him but swear, and
+that's all they care for.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Heavens prosper me, as I devoutly swear,<br />
+Never to be but yours!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Whereupon I will lead you into a chamber;
+and suppose there be a bed in it, as, ifack, I know
+not, but you'll forgive me if there be&mdash;away,
+away, you naughty hildings; get you together, get
+you together. Ah you wags, do you leer indeed at
+one another! do the neyes twinkle at him! get you
+together, get you together.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Leads them out.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter at one Door <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas,</span> with a Torch; at another,
+<span class="cnm">Hector</span> and <span class="cnm">Diomede,</span> with Torches.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> So ho, who goes there? &AElig;neas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">311</span><a id="page_311" name="page_311"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Prince Hector!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Good-morrow, lord &AElig;neas.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> A valiant Greek, &AElig;neas; take his hand;<br />
+Witness the process of your speech within;<br />
+You told how Diomede a whole week by days<br />
+Did haunt you in the field.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Health to you, valiant sir,<br />
+During all business of the gentle truce;<br />
+But, when I meet you armed, as black defiance,<br />
+As heart can think, or courage execute.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Both one and t'other Diomede embraces.<br />
+Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health;<br />
+But when contention and occasion meet,<br />
+By Jove I'll play the hunter for thy life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> And thou shall hunt a lion, that will fly<br />
+With his face backward. Welcome, Diomede,<br />
+Welcome to Troy. Now, by Anchises' soul,<br />
+No man alive can love in such a sort<br />
+The thing he means to kill more excellently.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> We know each other well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> We do; and long to know each other worse.&mdash;<br />
+My lord, the king has sent for me in haste;<br />
+Know you the reason?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Yes; his purpose meets you.<br />
+It was to bring this Greek to Calchas' house,<br />
+Where Pandarus his brother, and his daughter<br />
+Fair Cressida reside; and there to render<br />
+For our Antenor, now redeemed from prison,<br />
+The lady Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> What! Has the king resolved to gratify<br />
+That traitor Calchas, who forsook his country,<br />
+And turned to them, by giving up this pledge?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> The bitter disposition of the time<br />
+Is such, though Calchas, as a fugitive,<br />
+Deserve it not, that we must free Antenor,<br />
+On whose wise counsels we can most rely;<br />
+And therefore Cressida must be returned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">312</span><a id="page_312" name="page_312"></a>
+<span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> A word, my lord&mdash;Your pardon, Diomede&mdash;<br />
+Your brother Troilus, to my certain knowledge,<br />
+Does lodge this night in Pandarus's house.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Go you before. Tell him of our approach,<br />
+Which will, I fear, be much unwelcome to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> I assure you,<br />
+Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,<br />
+Than Cressida from Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I know it well; and how he is, beside,<br />
+Of hasty blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> He will not hear me speak;<br />
+But I have noted long betwixt you two<br />
+A more than brother's love; an awful homage<br />
+The fiery youth pays to your elder virtue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Leave it to me; I'll manage him alone;<br />
+Attend you Diomede.&mdash;My lord, good-morrow;<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Diom.</span></span><br />
+An urgent business takes me from the pleasure<br />
+Your company affords me; but &AElig;neas,<br />
+With joy, will undertake to serve you here,<br />
+And to supply my room.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Diom.</span></span>] My lord, I wait you.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally; <span class="cnm">Diomede</span> with <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas,
+Hector</span> at another Door.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus,</span> a Servant, Music.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Softly, villain, softly; I would not for half
+Troy the lovers should be disturbed under my roof:
+listen, rogue, listen; do they breathe?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> Yes, sir; I hear, by some certain signs, they
+are both awake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> That's as it should be; that's well o' both
+sides. [<span class="sdm">Listens.</span>]&mdash;Yes, 'faith, they are both alive:&mdash;There
+was a creak! there was a creak! they are
+both alive, and alive like;&mdash;there was a creak! a
+ha, boys!&mdash;Is the music ready?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">313</span><a id="page_313" name="page_313"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Serv.</span> Shall they strike up, sir?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Art thou sure they do not know the parties?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> They play to the man in the moon, for
+aught they know.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> To the man in the moon? ah rogue! do
+they so indeed, rogue! I understand thee; thou art
+a wag; thou art a wag. Come, towze rowze! in
+the name of love, strike up, boys.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Music, and then a Song; during which <span class="cnm">Pandarus</span>
+listens.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h5>I.</h5>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p class="i2">Can life be a blessing,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or worth the possessing,</p>
+<p>Can life be a blessing, if love were away?</p>
+<p class="i1">Ah, no! though our love all night keep us waking,</p>
+<p>And though he torment us with cares all the day,</p>
+<p class="i1">Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking;</p>
+<p>There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h5>II.</h5>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p class="i2">In every possessing,</p>
+<p class="i2">The ravishing blessing,</p>
+<p>In every possessing, the fruit of our pain,</p>
+<p class="i1">Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,</p>
+<p>Whate'er they have suffered and done to obtain;</p>
+<p class="i1">'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,</p>
+<p>When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Put up, and vanish; they are coming out:
+What a ferrup, will you play when the dance is
+done? I say, vanish.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit music.</span><br />
+[<span class="sdm">Peeping.</span>] Good, i'faith! good, i'faith! what, hand
+in hand&mdash;a fair quarrel, well ended! Do, do, walk
+<span class="pgnm">314</span><a id="page_314" name="page_314"></a>
+him, walk him;&mdash;a good girl, a discreet girl: I
+see she will make the most of him.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Farewell, my life! leave me, and back to bed:<br />
+Sleep seal those pretty eyes,<br />
+And tie thy senses in as soft a band,<br />
+As infants void of thought.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> [<span class="sdm">Shewing himself.</span>] How now, how now;
+how go matters? Hear you, maid, hear you; where's
+my cousin Cressida?</p>
+
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle:<br />
+You bring me to do ill, and then you jeer me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What ill have I brought you to do? Say
+what, if you dare now?&mdash;My lord, have I brought
+her to do ill?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Come, come,&mdash;beshrew your heart, you'll
+neither be good yourself, nor suffer others.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Alas, poor wench! alas, poor devil! Has
+not slept to-night? would a'not, a naughty man,
+let it sleep one twinkle? A bugbear take him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> [<span class="sdm">Knock within.</span>]<br />
+Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see:&mdash;<br />
+My lord, come you again into my chamber.&mdash;<br />
+You smile and mock, as if I meant naughtily!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Indeed, indeed!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Come, you're deceived; I think of no such thing.&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Knock again.</span><br />
+How earnestly they knock! Pray, come in: I would
+not for all Troy you were seen here.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Troil.</span> and <span class="cnm">Cres.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Who's there? What's the matter?<br />
+Will you beat down the house there!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">315</span><a id="page_315" name="page_315"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Hector.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Good morrow, my lord Pandarus; good
+morrow!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Who's there? prince Hector! What news
+with you so early?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Is not my brother Troilus here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Here! what should he do here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him:<br />
+It does import him much to speak with me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Is he here, say you? It is more than I
+know, I'll be sworn! For my part, I came in late.&mdash;What
+should he do here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Come, come, you do him wrong ere you're
+aware; you'll be so true to him, that you'll be false
+to him: You shall not know he's here; but yet go
+fetch him hither; go.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pand.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">I bring you, brother, most unwelcome news;<br />
+But since of force you are to hear it told,<br />
+I thought a friend and brother best might tell it:<br />
+Therefore, before I speak, arm well your mind,<br />
+And think you're to be touched even to the quick;<br />
+That so, prepared for ill, you may be less<br />
+Surprised to hear the worst.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> See, Hector, what it is to be your brother!<br />
+I stand prepared already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Come, you are hot;<br />
+I know you, Troilus, you are hot and fiery:<br />
+You kindle at a wrong, and catch it quick,<br />
+As stubble does the flame.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> 'Tis heat of blood,<br />
+And rashness of my youth; I'll mend that error:<br />
+Begin, and try my temper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Can you think<br />
+<span class="pgnm">316</span><a id="page_316" name="page_316"></a>
+Of that one thing, which most could urge your anger,<br />
+Drive you to madness, plunge you in despair,<br />
+And make you hate even me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> There can be nothing.<br />
+I love you, brother, with that awful love<br />
+I bear to heaven, and to superior virtue:<br />
+And when I quit this love, you must be that,<br />
+Which Hector ne'er can be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Remember well<br />
+What you have said; for, when I claim your promise,<br />
+I shall expect performance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I am taught:<br />
+I will not rage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Nor grieve beyond a man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I will not be a woman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Do not, brother:<br />
+And I will tell my news in terms so mild,<br />
+So tender, and so fearful to offend,<br />
+As mothers use to sooth their froward babes;<br />
+Nay, I will swear, as you have sworn to me,<br />
+That, if some gust of passion swell your soul<br />
+To words intemperate, I will bear with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> What would this pomp of preparation mean?<br />
+Come you to bring me news of Priam's death,<br />
+Or Hecuba's?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> The gods forbid I should!<br />
+But what I bring is nearer you, more close,<br />
+An ill more yours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> There is but one that can be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Perhaps, 'tis that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I'll not suspect my fate<br />
+So far; I know I stand possessed of that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> 'Tis well: consider at whose house I find you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Does it start you? I must wake you more;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">317</span><a id="page_317" name="page_317"></a>
+Antenor is exchanged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> For whom?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Imagine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> It comes, like thunder grumbling in a cloud,<br />
+Before the dreadful break: If here it fall,<br />
+The subtle flame will lick up all my blood,<br />
+And, in a moment, turn my heart to ashes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> That Cressida for Antenor is exchanged,<br />
+Because I knew 'twas harsh, I would not tell;<br />
+Not all at once; but by degrees and glimpses<br />
+I let it in, lest it might rush upon you,<br />
+And quite o'erpower your soul: In this, I think,<br />
+I showed a friend: your part must follow next;<br />
+Which is, to curb your choler, tame your grief,<br />
+And bear it like a man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I think I do,<br />
+That I yet live to hear you. But no more;<br />
+Hope for no more; for, should some goddess offer<br />
+To give herself and all her heaven in change,<br />
+I would not part with Cressida: So return<br />
+This answer as my last.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> 'Twill not be taken:<br />
+Nor will I bear such news.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You bore me worse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Worse for yourself; not for the general state,<br />
+And all our common safety, which depends<br />
+On freed Antenor's wisdom.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You would say,<br />
+That I'm the man marked out to be unhappy,<br />
+And made the public sacrifice for Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I would say so indeed; for, can you find<br />
+A fate more glorious than to be that victim?<br />
+If parting from a mistress can procure<br />
+A nation's happiness, show me that prince<br />
+Who dares to trust his future fame so far,<br />
+To stand the shock of annals, blotted thus,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">318</span><a id="page_318" name="page_318"></a>
+He sold his country for a woman's love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O, she's my life, my being, and my soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Suppose she were,&mdash;which yet I will not grant,&mdash;<br />
+You ought to give her up.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> For whom?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> The public.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> And what are they, that I should give up her,<br />
+To make them happy? Let me tell you, brother,<br />
+The public is the lees of vulgar slaves;<br />
+Slaves, with the minds of slaves; so born, so bred.<br />
+Yet such as these, united in a herd,<br />
+Are called, the public! Millions of such cyphers<br />
+Make up the public sum. An eagle's life<br />
+Is worth a world of crows. Are princes made<br />
+For such as these; who, were one soul extracted<br />
+From all their beings, could not raise a man?&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> And what are we, but for such men as these?<br />
+'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god:<br />
+And who should pay it, where would be their altars,<br />
+Were no inferior creatures here on earth?<br />
+Even those, who serve, have their expectancies,<br />
+Degrees of happiness, which they must share,<br />
+Or they'll refuse to serve us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Let them have it;<br />
+Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use<br />
+They have of life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> You take all these away,<br />
+Unless you give up Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Forbear:<br />
+Let Paris give up Helen; she's the cause,<br />
+And root, of all this mischief.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Your own suffrage<br />
+Condemns you there: you voted for her stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> If one must stay, the other shall not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> She shall not?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Once again I say, she shall not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">319</span><a id="page_319" name="page_319"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Our father has decreed it otherwise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> No matter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> How! no matter, Troilus?<br />
+A king, a father's will!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> When 'tis unjust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Come, she shall go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> She shall? then I am dared.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> If nothing else will do.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Answer me first,<br />
+And then I'll answer that,&mdash;be sure I will,&mdash;<br />
+Whose hand sealed this exchange?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> My father's first;<br />
+Then all the council's after.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Was yours there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Mine was there too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then you're no more my friend:<br />
+And for your sake,&mdash;now mark me what I say,&mdash;<br />
+She shall not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Go to; you are a boy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> A boy! I'm glad I am not such a man,<br />
+Not such as thou, a traitor to thy brother;<br />
+Nay, more, thy friend: But friend's a sacred name,<br />
+Which none but brave and honest men should wear:<br />
+In thee 'tis vile; 'tis prostitute; 'tis air;<br />
+And thus, I puff it from me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Well, young man,<br />
+Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was,<br />
+To one so far unworthy!) bring her out;<br />
+Or, by our father's soul, of which no part<br />
+Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I laugh at thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Thou dar'st not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I dare more,<br />
+If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring,<br />
+And see which of us has the larger share<br />
+Of our great father's soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> No more!&mdash;thou know'st me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">320</span><a id="page_320" name="page_320"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I do; and know myself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> All this, ye gods!<br />
+And for the daughter of a fugitive,<br />
+A traitor to his country!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> 'Tis too much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> By heaven, too little; for I think her common.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> How, common!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Common as the tainted shambles,<br />
+Or as the dust we tread.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> By heaven, as chaste as thy Andromache.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Hector</span> lays his hand on <span class="cnm">Troilus's</span> arm,
+<span class="cnm">Troilus</span> does the same to him.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What, namest thou them together!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> No, I do not:<br />
+Fair Cressida is first; as chaste as she,<br />
+But much more fair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> O, patience, patience, heaven!<br />
+Thou tempt'st me strangely: should I kill thee now,<br />
+I know not if the gods can he offended,<br />
+Or think I slew a brother: But, begone!<br />
+Begone, or I shall shake thee into atoms;<br />
+Thou know'st I can.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I care not if you could.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> [<span class="sdm">walking off.</span>]<br />
+I thank the gods, for calling to my mind<br />
+My promise, that no words of thine should urge me<br />
+Beyond the bounds of reason: But in thee<br />
+'Twas brutal baseness, so forewarned, to fall<br />
+Beneath the name of man; to spurn my kindness;<br />
+And when I offered thee (thou know'st how loth!)<br />
+The wholesome bitter cup of friendly counsel,<br />
+To dash it in my face. Farewell, farewell,<br />
+Ungrateful as thou art: hereafter use<br />
+The name of brother; but of friend no more.<span class="sdr">[Going out.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">321</span><a id="page_321" name="page_321"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Wilt thou not break yet, heart?&mdash;stay, brother, stay;<br />
+I promised too, but I have broke my vow,<br />
+And you keep yours too well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What would'st thou more?<br />
+Take heed, young man, how you too far provoke me!<br />
+For heaven can witness, 'tis with much constraint<br />
+That I preserve my faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Else you would kill me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> By all the gods I would.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I'm satisfied.<br />
+You have condemned me, and I'll do't myself.<br />
+What's life to him, who has no use of life?<br />
+A barren purchase, held upon hard terms!<br />
+For I have lost (oh, what have I not lost!)<br />
+The fairest, dearest, kindest, of her sex;<br />
+And lost her even by him, by him, ye gods!<br />
+Who only could, and only should protect me!<br />
+And if I had a joy beyond that love,<br />
+A friend, have lost him too!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Speak that again,&mdash;<br />
+For I could hear it ever,&mdash;saidst thou not,<br />
+That if thou hadst a joy beyond that love,<br />
+It was a friend? O, saidst thou not, a friend!<br />
+That doubting <i>if</i> was kind: then thou'rt divided;<br />
+And I have still some part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> If still you have,<br />
+You do not care to have it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> How, not care!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> No, brother, care not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Am I but thy brother?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You told me, I must call you friend no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> How far my words were distant from my heart!<br />
+Know, when I told thee so, I loved thee most.<br />
+Alas! it is the use of human frailty,<br />
+To fly to worst extremities with those,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">322</span><a id="page_322" name="page_322"></a>
+To whom we are most kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Is't possible!<br />
+Then you are still my friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Heaven knows I am!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> And can forgive the sallies of my passion?<br />
+For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame;<br />
+Have said such words, nay, done such actions too,<br />
+(Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul<br />
+Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye<br />
+On him I have offended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Peace be to thee,<br />
+And calmness ever there. I blame thee not:<br />
+I know thou lov'st; and what can love not do!<br />
+I cast the wild disorderly account,<br />
+Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion:<br />
+I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Do, for I need it: Let me lean my head<br />
+Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there;<br />
+Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth,<br />
+One who deserved thy love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Did she deserve?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> She did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then sure she was no common creature?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I said it in my rage; I thought not so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> That thought has blessed me! But to lose this love,<br />
+After long pains, and after short possession!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I feel it for thee: Let me go to Priam,<br />
+I'll break this treaty off; or let me fight:<br />
+I'll be thy champion, and secure both her,<br />
+And thee, and Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> It must not be, my brother;<br />
+For then your error would be more than mine:<br />
+I'll bring her forth, and you shall bear her hence;<br />
+That you have pitied me is my reward.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Go, then; and the good gods restore her to thee,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">323</span><a id="page_323" name="page_323"></a>
+And, with her, all the quiet of thy mind!<br />
+The triumph of this kindness be thy own;<br />
+<span class="i1">  And heaven and earth this testimony yield,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">  That friendship never gained a nobler field.</span>
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida</span> meeting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Is't possible? no sooner got but lost?<br />
+The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad:<br />
+A plague upon Antenor! would they had broke his neck!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> How now? what's the matter? Who was here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Oh, oh!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Why sigh you so? O, where's my Troilus?<br />
+Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Would I were as deep under the earth, as<br />
+I am above it!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O, the gods! What's the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou hadst never been born!<br />
+I knew thou wouldst be his death; oh, poor gentleman!<br />
+A plague upon Antenor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees,
+tell me what's the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Thou must be gone, girl; thou must be
+gone, to the fugitive rogue-priest, thy father: (and
+he's my brother too; but that's all one at this time:)
+A pox upon Antenor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O, ye immortal gods! I will not go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Thou must, thou must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I will not: I have quite forgot my father.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">324</span><a id="page_324" name="page_324"></a>
+I have no touch of birth, no spark of nature,<br />
+No kin, no blood, no life; nothing so near me,<br />
+As my dear Troilus!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Here, here, here he comes, sweet duck!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O, Troilus, Troilus!
+<span class="sdr">[They both weep over each other; she running
+into his arms.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What a pair of spectacles is here! let me
+embrace too. <i>Oh, heart,</i>&mdash;as the saying is,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i2"><i>&mdash;o heart, o heavy heart,</i></span><br />
+<span class="i2"><i>Why sigh'st thou without breaking!</i></span><br />
+Where he answers again,<br />
+<span class="i1"><i>Because thou can'st not ease thy smart,</i></span><br />
+<span class="i2"><i>By friendship nor by speaking.</i></span><br />
+There was never a truer rhyme: let us cast away
+nothing, for we may live to have need of such a
+verse; we see it, we see it.&mdash;How now, lambs?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Cressid, I love thee with so strange a purity,<br />
+That the blest gods, angry with my devotions,<br />
+More bright in zeal than that I pay their altars,<br />
+Will take thee from my sight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Have the gods envy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> And is it true, that I must go from Troy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> A hateful truth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What, and from Troilus too?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> From Troy and Troilus,&mdash;and suddenly;<br />
+So suddenly, 'tis counted out by minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What, not an hour allowed for taking leave?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Even that's bereft us too: Our envious fates<br />
+Jostle betwixt, and part the dear adieus<br />
+Of meeting lips, clasped hands, and locked embraces.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] My lord, is the lady ready yet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hark, you are called!&mdash;Some say, the genius so<br />
+<span class="pgnm">325</span><a id="page_325" name="page_325"></a>
+Cries,&mdash;Come, to him who instantly must die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Where are my tears? some rain to lay this wind,<br />
+Or my heart will be blown up by the roots!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hear me, my love! be thou but true, like me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I true! how now, what wicked thought is this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,<br />
+For it is parting from us.<br />
+I spoke not, be thou true, as fearing thee;<br />
+But be thou true, I said, to introduce<br />
+My following protestation,&mdash;be thou true,<br />
+And I will see thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> You'll be exposed to dangers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I care not; but be true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Be true, again?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hear why I speak it, love.<br />
+The Grecian youths are full of Grecian arts:<br />
+Alas! a kind of holy jealousy,<br />
+Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,<br />
+Makes me afraid how far you may be tempted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O heavens, you love me not!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Die I a villain then!<br />
+In this I do not call your faith in question,<br />
+But my own merit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Fear not; I'll be true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then, fate, thy worst! for I will see thee, love;<br />
+Not all the Grecian host shall keep me out,<br />
+Nor Troy, though walled with fire, should hold me in.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span> [<i>Within.</i>] My lord, my lord Troilus! I
+must call you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> A mischief call him! nothing but screech-owls?
+do, do, call again; you had best part them now
+in the sweetness of their love!&mdash;I'll be hanged if this
+&AElig;neas be the son of Venus, for all his bragging.
+Honest Venus was a punk; would she have parted
+<span class="pgnm">326</span><a id="page_326" name="page_326"></a>
+lovers? no, he has not a drop of Venus' blood in
+him&mdash;honest Venus was a punk.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> [<span class="sdm">To Pand.</span>] Pr'ythee, go out, and gain one<br />
+minute more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Marry and I will: follow you your business;
+lose no time, 'tis very precious; go, bill again:
+I'll tell the rogue his own, I warrant him.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What have we gained by this one minute more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Only to wish another, and another,<br />
+A longer struggling with the pangs of death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O, those, who do not know what parting is,<br />
+Can never learn to die!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> When I but think this sight may be our last,<br />
+If Jove could set me in the place of Atlas,<br />
+And lay the weight of heaven and gods upon me,<br />
+He could not press me more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Oh let me go, that I may know my grief;<br />
+Grief is but guessed, while thou art standing by:<br />
+But I too soon shall know what absence is.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Why, 'tis to be no more; another name for death:<br />
+'Tis the sun parting from the frozen north;<br />
+And I, methinks, stand on some icy cliff,<br />
+To watch the last low circles that he makes,<br />
+'Till he sink down from heaven! O only Cressida,<br />
+If thou depart from me, I cannot live:<br />
+I have not soul enough to last for grief,<br />
+But thou shalt hear what grief has done with me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> If I could live to hear it, I were false.<br />
+But, as a careful traveller, who, fearing<br />
+Assaults of robbers, leaves his wealth behind,<br />
+I trust my heart with thee; and to the Greeks<br />
+Bear but an empty casket.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then I will live, that I may keep that treasure;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">327</span><a id="page_327" name="page_327"></a>
+And, armed with this assurance, let thee go,<br />
+Loose, yet secure as is the gentle hawk,<br />
+When, whistled off, she mounts into the wind.<br />
+Our love's like mountains high above the clouds;<br />
+Though winds and tempests beat their aged feet,<br />
+Their peaceful heads nor storm nor thunder know,<br />
+But scorn the threatening rack that rolls below.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and <span class="cnm">Patroclus</span> standing in their tent.&mdash;<span class="cnm">Ulysses
+Agamemnon, Menelaus, Nestor,</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Ajax,</span> passing over the stage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:<br />
+Please it our general to pass strangely by him,<br />
+As if he were forgot; and, princes all,<br />
+Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn:<br />
+Pride must be cured by pride.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> We'll execute your purpose, and put on<br />
+A form of strangeness as we pass along;<br />
+So do each prince; either salute him not,<br />
+Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more<br />
+Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> What, comes the general to speak with me?<br />
+You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> What says Achilles? would he aught with us?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Would you, my lord, aught with the general?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> Nothing, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> The better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Menel.</span> How do you, how do you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> What, does the cuckold scorn me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> How now, Patroclus?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Good morrow, Ajax.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">328</span><a id="page_328" name="page_328"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Good morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Ay; and good next day too.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> They pass by strangely; they were used to bow,<br />
+And send their smiles before them to Achilles;<br />
+To come as humbly as they used to creep<br />
+To holy altars.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Am I poor of late?<br />
+'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,<br />
+Must fall out with men too: what the declined is,<br />
+He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,<br />
+As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,<br />
+Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister,<br />
+And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting<br />
+Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you,<br />
+A woman, impudent and mannish grown,<br />
+Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,<br />
+In time of action: I am condemned for this:<br />
+They think my little appetite to war<br />
+Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,<br />
+And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;<br />
+Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane,<br />
+Be shaken into air.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Shall Ajax fight with Hector?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> I see my reputation is at stake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men<br />
+Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> I'll do something;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">329</span><a id="page_329" name="page_329"></a>
+But what I know not yet.&mdash;No more; our champion.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Ajax, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses,
+Nestor, Diomede,</span> Trumpet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax.<br />
+Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,<br />
+Thou noble champion, that the sounding air<br />
+May pierce the ears of the great challenger,<br />
+And call him hither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Trumpet, take that purse:<br />
+Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass;<br />
+Thou blow'st for Hector.
+<span class="sdr">[Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hector, &AElig;neas,</span> and other Trojans.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Yonder comes the troop.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> [<span class="sdm">Coming to the Greeks.</span>]<br />
+Health to the Grecian lords:&mdash;What shall be done<br />
+To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose<br />
+A victor should be known? will you, the knights<br />
+Shall to the edge of all extremity<br />
+Pursue each other, or shall be divided<br />
+By any voice or order of the field?<br />
+Hector bade ask.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Which way would Hector have it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> He cares not, he'll obey conditions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done;<br />
+A little proudly, and too much despising<br />
+The knight opposed; he might have found his match.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> If not Achilles, nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Therefore Achilles; but whoe'er, know this;<br />
+Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but well,<br />
+And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.<br />
+This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,<br />
+In love whereof half Hector stays at home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> A maiden battle? I perceive you then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">330</span><a id="page_330" name="page_330"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax;<br />
+As you and lord &AElig;neas shall consent,<br />
+So let the fight proceed, or terminate.
+<span class="sdr">[The trumpets sound on both sides, while <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Diomede</span> take their places, as Judges of
+the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank
+themselves on either side.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> They are opposed already.
+<span class="sdr">[Fight equal at first, then <span class="cnm">Ajax</span> has <span class="cnm">Hector</span>
+at disadvantage; at last <span class="cnm">Hector</span> closes, <span class="cnm">Ajax</span>
+falls on one knee, <span class="cnm">Hector</span> stands over him, but
+strikes not, and <span class="cnm">Ajax</span> rises.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> [<span class="sdm">Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them.</span>]<br />
+Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> And we, as judges of the field, declare,<br />
+The combat here shall cease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax,</span> I am not warm yet, let us fight again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> Then let it be as Hector shall determine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> If it be left to me, I will no more.&mdash;<br />
+Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione's son;<br />
+The obligation of our blood forbids us.<br />
+But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so,<br />
+That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all,<br />
+And this is Trojan,&mdash;hence thou shouldst not bear<br />
+One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword<br />
+Had not impression made. But heaven forbid<br />
+That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother,<br />
+Should e'er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin.<br />
+By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms:<br />
+Hector would have them fall upon him thus:&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Embrace.</span><br />
+Thine be the honour, Ajax.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> I thank thee, Hector;<br />
+Thou art too gentle, and too free a man.<br />
+I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain<br />
+A great addition from that glorious act:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">331</span><a id="page_331" name="page_331"></a>
+But thou hast quite disarmed me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I am glad;<br />
+For 'tis the only way I could disarm thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> If I might in intreaty find success,<br />
+I would desire to see thee at my tent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles;<br />
+Both long to see the valiant Hector there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> &AElig;neas, call my brother Troilus to me;<br />
+And you two sign this friendly interview.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Agamemnon,</span> and the chief of both
+sides approach.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Hect.</span></span>]
+Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one,<br />
+Who would be rid of such an enemy.&mdash;<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Troil.</span></span>] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often,<br />
+Labouring for destiny, make cruel way<br />
+Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee<br />
+As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed,<br />
+And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives,<br />
+When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,<br />
+Not letting it decline on prostrate foes;<br />
+That I have said to all the standers-by,<br />
+Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,<br />
+Who hast so long walked hand in hand with time:<br />
+Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> I wonder now, how yonder city stands,<br />
+When we have here her base and pillar by us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I know your count'nance, lord Ulysses, well.<br />
+Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,<br />
+Since first I saw yourself and Diomede<br />
+In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;<br />
+I have with exact view perused thee, Hector,<br />
+And quoted joint by joint.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Is this Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">332</span><a id="page_332" name="page_332"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Achil.</span> I am Achilles.<br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Behold thy fill.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Nay, I have done already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Thou art too brief. I will, the second time,<br />
+As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> O, like a book of sport, thou read'st me o'er;<br />
+But there's more in me than thou understand'st.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body<br />
+Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there?<br />
+That I may give the imagined wound a name,<br />
+And make distinct the very breach, whereout<br />
+Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Wert thou an oracle to tell me this,<br />
+I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well,<br />
+I'll kill thee every where.<br />
+Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast;<br />
+His insolence draws folly from my lips;<br />
+But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,<br />
+Else may I never&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Do not chafe thee, cousin;&mdash;<br />
+And you, Achilles, let these threats alone;<br />
+You may have every day enough of Hector,<br />
+If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,<br />
+Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I pray you, let us see you in the field;<br />
+We have had pelting wars, since you refused<br />
+The Grecian cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Do'st thou entreat me, Hector?<br />
+To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death;<br />
+To-night, all peace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Thy hand upon that match.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> First, all you Grecian princes, go with me,<br />
+And entertain great Hector; afterwards,<br />
+As his own leisure shall concur with yours,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">333</span><a id="page_333" name="page_333"></a>
+You may invite him to your several tents.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Agam. Hect. Menel. Nest. Diom.</span>
+together.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,<br />
+In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> At Menelaus' tent:<br />
+There Diomede does feast with him to-night;<br />
+Who neither looks on heaven or on earth,<br />
+But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view<br />
+On Cressida alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much,<br />
+After we part from Agamemnon's tent,<br />
+To bring me thither?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> I shall wait on you.<br />
+As freely tell me, of what honour was<br />
+This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,<br />
+Who mourn her absence?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,<br />
+Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;<br />
+That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Ulysses</span> and <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Patro.</span></span>]
+I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,<br />
+Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.<br />
+Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Here comes Thersites.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> How now, thou core of envy,<br />
+Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Why, thou picture of what thou seemest,
+thou idol of ideot worshippers, there's a letter for
+thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> From whence, fragment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Well said, adversity! what makes thee so
+keen to-day?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">334</span><a id="page_334" name="page_334"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Because a fool's my whetstone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Patro.</span> Meaning me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee,
+be silent, boy, I profit not by thy talk. Now the
+rotten diseases of the south, gut-gripings, ruptures,
+catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back, lethargies,
+cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee
+again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou
+tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor
+world is pestered with such water-flies, such diminutives
+of nature!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented<br />
+From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life.<br />
+Here is a letter from my love Polyxena,<br />
+Both taxing and engaging me to keep<br />
+An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it<br />
+To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay,<br />
+There's more religion in my love than fame.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and <span class="cnm">Patroclus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> With too much blood, and too little brain,
+these two are running mad before the dog-days.
+There's Agamemnon, too, an honest fellow enough,
+and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so
+much brains as an old gander. But his brother
+Menelaus, there's a fellow! the goodly transformation
+of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the primitive
+cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his
+brother's tail,&mdash;to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad,
+an owl, a lizard, a herring without a roe, I would
+not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
+against destiny.&mdash;Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and
+Jack a Lanthorn!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Hector, Ajax, Agamemnon, Diomede, Ulysses,
+Troilus,</span> going with Torches over the Stage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> We go wrong, we go wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">335</span><a id="page_335" name="page_335"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the
+light.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I trouble you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles
+himself, to guide us.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Achilles.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes
+all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my
+leave; Ajax commands the guard to wait on you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Men.</span> Good night, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet
+sewer, sweet jakes!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede,<br />
+Keep Hector company an hour or two.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I cannot, sir; I have important business.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Enter, my lords.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Troil.</span></span>] Follow his torch: he goes to
+Calchas's tent.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Achil. Hect. Ajax,</span> one way; <span class="cnm">Diomede</span>
+another; and after him <span class="cnm">Ulysses</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> This Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, an
+unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he
+winks with one eye, than I will a serpent when he
+hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like
+Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers
+set it down for a prodigy: though I long to
+see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him. They
+say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas's tent,
+that fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of
+our side. I'll after him; nothing but whoring in
+this age; all incontinent rascals!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">336</span><a id="page_336" name="page_336"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Calchas</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> O, what a blessing is a virtuous child!<br />
+Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions<br />
+Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy<br />
+Revives within me, and my lost tiara<br />
+No more disturbs my mind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> A virtuous conquest!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> I have a woman's longing to return;<br />
+But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Time must instruct us how.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> You must dissemble love to Diomede still:<br />
+False Diomede, bred in Ulysses' school,<br />
+Can never be deceived,<br />
+But by strong arts and blandishments of love.<br />
+Put them in practice all; seem lost and won,<br />
+And draw him on, and give him line again.<br />
+This Argus then may close his hundred eyes,<br />
+And leave our flight more easy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> How can I answer this to love and Troilus?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> Why, 'tis for him you do it; promise largely;<br />
+That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects<br />
+Was given you by a lover; let him have it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> Hark! I hear his voice.<br />
+Pursue your project; doubt not the success.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes,<br />
+This night to meet my Troilus, while 'tis truce,<br />
+Afford my mind some ease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> No more: retire.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Diomede: Troilus</span> and <span class="cnm">Ulysses</span> appear listening
+at one Door, and <span class="cnm">Thersites</span> watching at
+another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">337</span><a id="page_337" name="page_337"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Calch.</span> My lord, I'll call her to you.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Calchas.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Troil.</span></span>] Stand where the torch may not
+discover us.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Cressida comes forth to him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> How now, my charge?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word
+with you.<span class="sdr">[Whisper.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Ay, so familiar!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Will you remember?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Remember? yes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Heavens, what should she remember! Plague
+and madness!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time,<br />
+Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself<br />
+To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;<br />
+The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments,
+I will not speak a word.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I'll hear no more: good night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Nay, but you part in anger!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Farewell, cozener.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> You shake, my lord, at something: will you go?<br />
+You will break out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> By all the gods I will not.<br />
+There is, between my will and all my actions,<br />
+A guard of patience: stay a little while.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">aside.</span>] How the devil luxury, with his fat
+rump, and potato-finger, tickles these together!&mdash;Put
+him off a little, you foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen
+him the more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> But will you then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">338</span><a id="page_338" name="page_338"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom</span> Give me some token, for the surety of it;<br />
+The ring I saw you wear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> [<span class="sdm">Giving it.</span>] If you must have it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty,
+where's thy faith!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> You have sworn patience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> That's well, that's well, the pledge is
+given; hold her to her word, good devil, and her
+soul's thine, I warrant thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Whose was't?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> By all Diana's waiting train of stars,<br />
+And by herself, I will not tell you whose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever:<br />
+Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> You shall not go: one cannot speak a word,<br />
+But straight it starts you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I do not like this fooling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not
+you, pleases me best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> I shall expect your promise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> I'll perform it.<br />
+Not a word more, good night&mdash;I hope for ever:<br />
+Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Diomede</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida</span> severally.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> All's done, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil</span> Is it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Pray let us go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Was Cressida here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> I cannot conjure, Trojan.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> She was not, sure! she was not;<br />
+Let it not be believed, for womanhood:<br />
+Think we had mothers, do not give advantage<br />
+To biting satire, apt without a theme<br />
+For defamation, to square all the sex<br />
+By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">339</span><a id="page_339" name="page_339"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida.<br />
+If beauty have a soul, this is not she:&mdash;<br />
+I cannot speak for rage;&mdash;that ring was mine:&mdash;<br />
+By heaven I gave it, in that point of time,<br />
+When both our joys were fullest!&mdash;If he keeps it,<br />
+Let dogs eat Troilus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will
+be sport to see! Patroclus will give me any thing
+for the intelligence of this whore; a parrot will
+not do more for an almond, than he will for a
+commodious drab:&mdash;I would I could meet with this
+rogue Diomede too: I would croak like a raven to
+him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find
+him out.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> I have been seeking you this hour, my lord:<br />
+Hector by this is arming him in Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother:<br />
+Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm;<br />
+The fair Polyxena has, by a letter,<br />
+Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> This I shall say to Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> So I hope.<br />
+Pray heaven Thersites have informed me true!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Good night, my lord; accept distracted thanks!
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ulysses.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> Hear ye, my lord, hear ye; I have been
+seeing yon poor girl. There have been old doings
+there, i'faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>]
+Hold yet, my spirits: let him pour it in:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">340</span><a id="page_340" name="page_340"></a>
+The poison's kind: the more I drink of it,<br />
+The sooner 'twill dispatch me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> to <i>Pand.</i> Peace, thou babbler!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> She has been mightily made on by the
+Greeks: she takes most wonderfully among 'em.
+Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her: nay,
+and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed
+her with his whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon
+with his general's staff, diving with a low bow
+even to the ground, and rising again, just at her
+lips: and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and
+Menelaus: and they so pelted her, i'faith, pitter
+patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones. And
+after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman
+in Phrygia better kissed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Hector said true: I find, I find it
+now!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely:
+that's a notable sly rogue, I warrant him!
+mercy upon us, how he laid her on upon the lips!
+for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on
+among the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man!
+she has every one's good word. I think, in my
+conscience, she was born with a caul upon her
+head.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures
+me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so
+courted and treated for her sake: the young sparks
+do so pull him about, and haul him by the cassock:
+nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent,
+and his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as
+to ask him, if she were a virgin; and with that, the
+rogue, my brother, takes me up a little god in his
+hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she
+was; then was I ready to burst my sides with
+laughing, to think what had passed betwixt you two.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">341</span><a id="page_341" name="page_341"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all:<br />
+False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk<br />
+She sucked the infusion of her father's soul.<br />
+She only wants an opportunity;<br />
+Her soul's a whore already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> What, would you make a monopoly of a
+woman's lips? a little consolation, or so, might be
+allowed, one would think, in a lover's absence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hence from my sight!<br />
+Let ignominy brand thy hated name;<br />
+Let modest matrons at thy mention start;<br />
+And blushing virgins, when they read our annals,<br />
+Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend,<br />
+And blots the noble work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pand.</span> O world, world: thou art an ungrateful
+patch of earth! Thus the poor agent is despised!
+he labours painfully in his calling, and trudges between
+parties: but when their turns are served, come
+out's too good for him. I am mighty melancholy.
+I'll e'en go home, and shut up my doors, and die
+o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Pandarus.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Diomede</span> and <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] There, there he is; now let it
+work: now play thy part, jealousy, and twinge 'em:
+put 'em between thy mill-stones, and grind the
+rogues together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you,<br />
+This hour must end the truce.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> to <i>Troil.</i> Contain yourself:<br />
+Think where we are.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Your stay will be unsafe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> It may, for those I hate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well said, Trojan: there's the first
+hit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">342</span><a id="page_342" name="page_342"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs
+call me another way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] What affairs? what affairs? demand
+that, dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel,
+for want of wit to ask that question.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well said again; I beg thy pardon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Oh, it concerns you not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Perhaps it does.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound<br />
+To satisfy an enemy's request.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede,<br />
+And given you by a lady.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> If it were,<br />
+'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle
+at one another: set up your bristles now, a'both
+sides: whet and foam, rogues.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> You must restore it, Greek, by heaven you must;<br />
+No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand:<br />
+And, with it, give me back the broken vows<br />
+Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is,<br />
+I never will resign, but with my soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool,<br />
+Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart,<br />
+Repines in vain to see it better placed;<br />
+But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee)<br />
+Thou art so lost a thing in her esteem,<br />
+I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed:<br />
+Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals;<br />
+Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks,<br />
+And intermissive hours of cooler love,<br />
+When hand in hand we went.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hell and furies!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] O well stung, scorpion!
+<span class="pgnm">343</span><a id="page_343" name="page_343"></a>
+Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors,
+there's a new cuckold starts up on the Trojan side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she,<br />
+Who in my arms lay melting all the night;<br />
+Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again,<br />
+As if her soul flew upward to her lips,<br />
+To meet mine there, and panted at the passage;<br />
+Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out,<br />
+And shrunk into my bosom, there to make<br />
+A little longer darkness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Plagues and tortures!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to
+lose his harlot; and our fool's mad, that t'other fool
+had her first. If I sought peace now, I could tell
+'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore
+sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the foolish
+curs; they think they never can have enough
+of carrion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> My lords, this fury is not proper here<br />
+In time of truce; if either side be injured,<br />
+To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> And then! but why should I defer till then?<br />
+My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors;<br />
+My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must,<br />
+It will have vent,&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Draws.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Hinder us not, &AElig;neas,<br />
+My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour,<br />
+And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Draws.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let
+them have just light enough to make their passes;
+and not enough to ward them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">&AElig;n.</span> [<i>Drawing too.</i>]<br />
+By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first.<br />
+You both are mad; is this like gallant men,<br />
+To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">344</span><a id="page_344" name="page_344"></a>
+When only guilt and rapine draw a sword?<br />
+Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose;<br />
+But let the sun behold the brave man's courage.<br />
+And this I dare engage for Diomede,&mdash;<br />
+For though I am,&mdash;he shall not hide his head,<br />
+But meet you in the very face of danger.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> [<i>Putting up.</i>]<br />
+Be't so; and were it on some precipice,<br />
+High as Olympus, and a sea beneath,<br />
+Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point<br />
+I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men,<br />
+As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this;<br />
+Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge,<br />
+I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames,<br />
+To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Where shall we meet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Before the tent of Calchas.<br />
+Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way;<br />
+And in the sight of perjured Cressida,<br />
+Give death to her through thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> 'Tis largely promised;<br />
+But I disdain to answer with a boast.<br />
+Be sure thou shalt be met.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> And thou be found.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> and <span class="cnm">&AElig;neas</span> one way; <span class="cnm">Diomede</span>
+the other.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Now the furies take &AElig;neas, for letting
+them sleep upon their quarrel; who knows but rest
+may cool their brains, and make them rise maukish
+to mischief upon consideration? May each of them
+dream he sees his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and
+be stabbing one another in their sleep, to remember
+them of their business when they wake: let them
+be punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were
+possible, let both be first at the place of execution;
+<span class="pgnm">345</span><a id="page_345" name="page_345"></a>
+let neither of them have cogitation enough, to
+consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them
+value their lives at as little as they are worth: and
+lastly, let no succeeding fools take warning by them;
+but, in imitation of them, when a strumpet is in
+question,<br />
+<span class="i1">Let them beneath their feet all reason trample,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And think it great to perish by example.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Hector,</span> Trojans, <span class="cnm">Andromache.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> The blue mists rise from off the nether grounds,<br />
+And the sun mounts apace. To arms, to arms!<br />
+I am resolved to put to the utmost proof<br />
+The fate of Troy this day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Oh wretched woman, oh!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Methought I heard you sigh, Andromache.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Did you, my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Did you, my lord? you answer indirectly;<br />
+Just when I said, that I would put our fate<br />
+Upon the extremest proof, you fetched a groan;<br />
+And, as you checked yourself for what you did,<br />
+You stifled it and stopt. Come, you are sad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> The gods forbid!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What should the gods forbid?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> That I should give you cause of just offence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> You say well; but you look not chearfully.<br />
+I mean this day to waste the stock of war,<br />
+And lay it prodigally out in blows.<br />
+Come, gird my sword, and smile upon me, love;<br />
+Like victory, come flying to my arms,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">346</span><a id="page_346" name="page_346"></a>
+And give me earnest of desired success.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> The gods protect you, and restore you to me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What, grown a coward! Thou wert used, Andromache,<br />
+To give my courage courage; thou would'st cry,&mdash;<br />
+Go Hector, day grows old, and part of fame<br />
+Is ravished from thee by thy slothful stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]
+What shall I do to seem the same I was?&mdash;<br />
+Come, let me gird thy fortune to thy side,<br />
+And conquest sit as close and sure as this.
+<span class="sdr">[She goes to gird his sword, and it falls.</span><br />
+Now mercy, heaven! the gods avert this omen!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> A foolish omen! take it up again,<br />
+And mend thy error.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> I cannot, for my hand obeys me not;<br />
+But, as in slumbers, when we fain would run<br />
+From our imagined fears, our idle feet<br />
+Grow to the ground, our struggling voice dies inward;<br />
+So now, when I would force myself to chear you,<br />
+My faltering tongue can give no glad presage:<br />
+Alas, I am no more Andromache.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Why then thy former soul is flown to me;<br />
+For I, methinks, am lifted into air,<br />
+As if my mind, mastering my mortal part,<br />
+Would bear my exalted body to the gods.<br />
+Last night I dreamt Jove sat on Ida's top,<br />
+And, beckoning with his hand divine from far,<br />
+He pointed to a choir of demi-gods,<br />
+Bacchus and Hercules, and all the rest,<br />
+Who, free from human toils, had gained the pitch<br />
+Of blest eternity;&mdash;Lo there, he said,<br />
+Lo there's a place for Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Be to thy enemies this boding dream!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Why, it portends me honour and renown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">347</span><a id="page_347" name="page_347"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Such honour as the brave gain after death;<br />
+For I have dreamt all night of horrid slaughters,<br />
+Of trampling horses, and of chariot wheels<br />
+Wading in blood up to their axle-trees;<br />
+Of fiery demons gliding down the skies,<br />
+And Ilium brightened with a midnight blaze:<br />
+O therefore, if thou lovest me, go not forth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Go to thy bed again, and there dream better.&mdash;<br />
+Ho! bid my trumpet sound.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> No notes of sally, for the heaven's sweet sake!<br />
+'Tis not for nothing when my spirits droop;<br />
+This is a day when thy ill stars are strong,<br />
+When they have driven thy helpless genius down<br />
+The steep of heaven, to some obscure retreat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> No more; even as thou lovest my fame, no more;<br />
+My honour stands engaged to meet Achilles.<br />
+What will the Grecians think, or what will he,<br />
+Or what will Troy, or what wilt thou thyself,<br />
+When once this ague fit of fear is o'er,<br />
+If I should lose my honour for a dream?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Your enemies too well your courage know,<br />
+And heaven abhors the forfeit of rash vows,<br />
+Like spotted livers in a sacrifice.<br />
+I cannot, O I dare not let you go;<br />
+For, when you leave me, my presaging mind<br />
+Says, I shall never, never see you more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Thou excellently good, but oh too soft,<br />
+Let me not 'scape the danger of this day;<br />
+But I have struggling in my manly soul,<br />
+To see those modest tears, ashamed to fall,<br />
+And witness any part of woman in thee!<br />
+And now I fear, lest thou shouldst think it fear,<br />
+If, thus dissuaded, I refuse to fight,<br />
+And stay inglorious in thy arms at home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Oh, could I have that thought, I should not love thee;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">348</span><a id="page_348" name="page_348"></a>
+Thy soul is proof to all things but to kindness;<br />
+And therefore 'twas that I forbore to tell thee,<br />
+How mad Cassandra, full of prophecy,<br />
+Ran round the streets, and, like a Bacchanal,<br />
+Cried,&mdash;Hold him, Priam, 'tis an ominous day;<br />
+Let him not go, for Hector is no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Our life is short, but to extend that span<br />
+To vast eternity, is virtue's work;<br />
+Therefore to thee, and not to fear of fate,<br />
+Which once must come to all, give I this day.<br />
+But see thou move no more the like request;<br />
+For rest assured, that, to regain this hour,<br />
+To-morrow will I tempt a double danger.<br />
+Mean time, let destiny attend thy leisure;<br />
+I reckon this one day a blank of life.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Where are you, brother? now, in honour's name,<br />
+What do you mean to be thus long unarmed?<br />
+The embattled soldiers throng about the gates;<br />
+The matrons to the turrets' tops ascend,<br />
+Holding their helpless children in their arms,<br />
+To make you early known to their young eyes,<br />
+And Hector is the universal shout.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Bid all unarm; I will not fight to-day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Employ some coward to bear back this news,<br />
+And let the children hoot him for his pains.<br />
+By all the gods, and by my just revenge,<br />
+This sun shall shine the last for them or us;<br />
+These noisy streets, or yonder echoing plains,<br />
+Shall be to-morrow silent as the grave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> O brother, do not urge a brother's fate,<br />
+But, let this wreck of heaven and earth roll o'er,<br />
+And, when the storm is past, put out to sea.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O now I know from whence his change proceeds;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">349</span><a id="page_349" name="page_349"></a>
+Some frantic augur has observed the skies;<br />
+Some victim wants a heart, or crow flies wrong.<br />
+By heaven, 'twas never well, since saucy priests<br />
+Grew to be masters of the listening herd,<br />
+And into mitres cleft the regal crown;<br />
+Then, as the earth were scanty for their power,<br />
+They drew the pomp of heaven to wait on them.<br />
+Shall I go publish, Hector dares not fight,<br />
+Because a madman dreamt he talked with Jove?<br />
+What could the god see in a brain-sick priest,<br />
+That he should sooner talk to him than me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> You know my name's not liable to fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Yes, to the worst of fear,&mdash;to superstition.<br />
+But whether that, or fondness of a wife,<br />
+(The more unpardonable ill) has seized you,<br />
+Know this, the Grecians think you fear Achilles,<br />
+And that Polyxena has begged your life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> How! that my life is begged, and by my sister?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Ulysses so informed me at our parting,<br />
+With a malicious and disdainful smile:<br />
+'Tis true, he said not, in broad words, you feared;<br />
+But in well-mannered terms 'twas so agreed,<br />
+Achilles should avoid to meet with Hector.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> He thinks my sister's treason my petition;<br />
+That, largely vaunting, in my heat of blood,<br />
+More than I could, it seems, or durst perform,<br />
+I sought evasion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> And in private prayed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> O yes, Polyxena to beg my life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> He cannot think so;&mdash;do not urge him thus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Not urge me! then thou think'st I need his urging.<br />
+By all the gods, should Jove himself descend,<br />
+And tell me,&mdash;Hector, thou deservest not life,<br />
+But take it as a boon,&mdash;I would not live.<br />
+But that a mortal man, and he, of all men,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">350</span><a id="page_350" name="page_350"></a>
+Should think my life were in his power to give,<br />
+I will not rest, till, prostrate on the ground,<br />
+I make him, atheist-like, implore his breath<br />
+Of me, and not of heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then you'll refuse no more to fight?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Refuse! I'll not be hindered, brother.<br />
+I'll through and through them, even their hindmost ranks,<br />
+Till I have found that large-sized boasting fool,<br />
+Who dares presume my life is in his gift.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Andr.</span> Farewell, farewell; 'tis vain to strive with fate!<br />
+Cassandra's raging god inspires my breast<br />
+With truths that must be told, and not believed.<br />
+Look how he dies! look how his eyes turn pale!<br />
+Look how his blood bursts out at many vents!<br />
+Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out,<br />
+And widowed I fill all the streets with screams!<br />
+Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement,<br />
+Like antiques meet, and tumble upon heaps!<br />
+And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! Oh Hector!<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> What sport will be, when we return at evening,<br />
+To laugh her out of countenance for her dreams!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> I have not quenched my eyes with dewy sleep this night;<br />
+But fiery fumes mount upward to my brains,<br />
+And, when I breathe, methinks my nostrils hiss!<br />
+I shall turn basilisk, and with my sight<br />
+Do my hands' work on Diomede this day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> To arms, to arms! the vanguards are engaged<br />
+Let us not leave one man to guard the walls;<br />
+Both old and young, the coward and the brave,<br />
+Be summoned all, our utmost fate to try,<br />
+And as one body move, whose soul am I.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">351</span><a id="page_351" name="page_351"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II&mdash;<i>The Camp.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Alarm within. Enter <span class="cnm">Agamemnon, Ulysses, Menelaus,</span>
+Soldiers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Thus far the promise of the day is fair.<br />
+&AElig;neas rather loses ground than gains.<br />
+I saw him over-laboured, taking breath,<br />
+And leaning on his spear, behold our trenches,<br />
+Like a fierce lion looking up to toils,<br />
+Which yet he durst not leap.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> And therefore distant death does all the work;<br />
+The flights of whistling darts make brown the sky,<br />
+Whose clashing points strike fire, and gild the dusk;<br />
+Those, that reach home, from neither host are vain,<br />
+So thick the prease; so lusty are their arms,<br />
+That death seemed never sent with better will.<br />
+Nor was with less concernment entertained.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Nestor.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Now, Nestor, what's the news?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> I have descried<br />
+A cloud of dust, that mounts in pillars upwards,<br />
+Expanding as it travels to our camp;<br />
+And from the midst I heard a bursting shout,<br />
+That rent the heaven; as if all Troy were swarmed.<br />
+And on the wing this way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Menel.</span> Let them come, let them come.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Where's great Achilles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Think not on Achilles,<br />
+Till Hector drag him from his tent to fight;<br />
+Which sure he will, for I have laid the train.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nest.</span> But young Patroclus leads his Myrmidons,<br />
+And in their front, even in the face of Hector,<br />
+Resolves to dare the Trojans.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">352</span><a id="page_352" name="page_352"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Haste, Ulysses, bid Ajax issue forth and second him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Oh noble general, let it not be so.<br />
+Oppose not rage, while rage is in its force,<br />
+But give it way awhile, and let it waste.<br />
+The rising deluge is not stopt with dams;<br />
+Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hopes of harvest;<br />
+But, wisely managed, its divided strength<br />
+Is sluiced in channels, and securely drained.<br />
+First, let small parties dally with their fury;<br />
+But when their force is spent and unsupplied,<br />
+The residue with mounds may be restrained,<br />
+And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Ho, ho, ho!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Menel.</span> Why dost thou laugh, unseasonable fool?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Why, thou fool in season, cannot a man
+laugh, but thou thinkest he makes horns at thee?
+Thou prince of the herd, what hast thou to do with
+laughing? 'Tis the prerogative of a man, to laugh.
+Thou risibility without reason, thou subject of laughter,
+thou fool royal!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> But tell us the occasion of thy mirth?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Now a man asks me, I care not if I answer
+to my own kind.&mdash;Why, the enemies are broken
+into our trenches; fools like Menelaus fall by thousands
+yet not a human soul departs on either side.
+Troilus and Ajax have almost beaten one another's
+heads off, but are both immortal for want of brains.
+Patroclus has killed Sarpedon, and Hector Patroclus,
+so there is a towardly springing fop gone off;
+he might have made a prince one day, but now he's
+nipt in the very bud and promise of a most prodigious
+coxcomb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> Bear off Patroclus' body to Achilles;<br />
+Revenge will arm him now, and bring us aid.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">353</span><a id="page_353" name="page_353"></a>
+The alarm sounds near, and shouts are driven upon us,<br />
+As of a crowd confused in their retreat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Open your ranks, and make these madmen way,<br />
+Then close again to charge upon their backs,<br />
+And quite consume the relics of the war.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but <span class="cnm">Thersites.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> What shoals of fools one battle sweeps
+away! How it purges families of younger brothers,
+highways of robbers, and cities of cuckold-makers!
+There is nothing like a pitched battle for these brisk
+addle-heads! Your physician is a pretty fellow, but
+his fees make him tedious, he rides not fast enough;
+the fools grow upon him, and their horse bodies are
+poison proof. Your pestilence is a quicker remedy,
+but it has not the grace to make distinction; it huddles
+up honest men and rogues together. But your
+battle has discretion; it picks out all the forward
+fools, and sowses them together into immortality.
+[<i>Shouts and alarms within</i>] Plague upon these drums
+and trumpets! these sharp sauces of the war, to get
+fools an appetite to fighting! What do I among
+them? I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass,
+and die a martyr in a wrong religion.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by
+Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon <span class="cnm">Thersites</span>
+who is flying too.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troj.</span> Turn, slave, and fight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<span class="sdm">turning.</span>] What art thou?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troj.</span> A bastard son of Priam's.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am
+bastard in body, bastard in mind, bastard in valour,
+in every thing illegitimate. A bear will not fasten
+upon a bear; why should one bastard offend another!
+Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and
+have the fear of our mothers before our eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">354</span><a id="page_354" name="page_354"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Troj.</span> The devil take thee, coward.<span class="sdr">[Exit Troj.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable!
+These gods have a fine time on it;
+they can see and make mischief, and never feel it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each
+way, and meets the noise.</span><br /><br />
+A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now
+would I were that blockhead Ajax for a minute.
+Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long
+pole! and then the rogues may kill one another
+at free cost, and have nobody left to laugh at
+them. Now destruction! now destruction!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Hector</span> and <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> driving in the Greeks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> to <i>Thers.</i> Speak what part thou fightest on!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> I fight not at all; I am for neither side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?<br />
+Art thou of blood and honour?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave,
+a very filthy rogue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I do believe thee; live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me;
+but the devil break thy neck for frighting me.
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> (<span class="sdm">returning.</span>) What prisoner have you there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Dispatch him, and away.<span class="sdr">[Going to kill him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Hold, hold!&mdash;what, is it no more but dispatch
+a man and away! I am in no such haste: I
+will not die for Greece; I hate Greece, and by my
+good will would never have been born there; I was
+mistaken into that country, and betrayed by my
+parents to be born there. And besides, I have a
+mortal enemy among the Grecians, one Diomede, a
+<span class="pgnm">355</span><a id="page_355" name="page_355"></a>
+damned villain, and cannot die with a safe conscience
+till I have first murdered him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Shew me that Diomede, and thou shalt live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Come along with me, and I will conduct
+thee to Calchas's tent, where I believe he is now,
+making war with the priest's daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> Here we must part, our destinies divide us;<br />
+Brother and friend, farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> When shall we meet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> When the gods please; if not, we once must part.<br />
+Look; on yon hill their squandered troops unite.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> If I mistake not, 'tis their last reserve:<br />
+The storm's blown o'er, and those but after-drops.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> I wish our men be not too far engaged;<br />
+For few we are and spent, as having born<br />
+The burthen of the day: But, hap what can,<br />
+They shall be charged; Achilles must be there,<br />
+And him I seek, or death.<br />
+Divide our troops, and take the fresher half.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> O brother!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Hect.</span> No dispute of ceremony:<br />
+These are enow for me, in faith enow.<br />
+Their bodies shall not flag while I can lead;<br />
+Nor wearied limbs confess mortality,<br />
+Before those ants, that blacken all yon hill,<br />
+Are crept into the earth. Farewell.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Hect.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Farewell.&mdash;Come, Greek.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Now these rival rogues will clapperclaw
+one another, and I shall have the sport of it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Troil.</span> with <span class="cnm">Thers.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> and Myrmidons.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achill.</span> Which way went Hector?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Myrmid.</span> Up yon sandy hill;<br />
+You may discern them by their smoking track:<br />
+A wavering body working with bent hams<br />
+<span class="pgnm">356</span><a id="page_356" name="page_356"></a>
+Against the rising, spent with painful march,<br />
+And by loose footing cast on heaps together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> O thou art gone, thou sweetest, best of friends!<br />
+Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war,<br />
+Ere yet the tender nerves had strung thy limbs,<br />
+And knotted into strength! Yet, though too late,<br />
+I will, I will revenge thee, my Patroclus!<br />
+Nor shall thy ghost thy murderers long attend,<br />
+But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back,<br />
+Ere thou art wafted to the farther shore.&mdash;<br />
+Make haste, my soldiers; give me this day's pains<br />
+For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine,<br />
+Till Hector breathless on the ground we lay!<br />
+Revenge is honour, the securest way.<span class="sdr">[Exit with Myrm.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Thersites, Troilus,</span> Trojans.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> That's Calchas's tent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood,<br />
+Than all the sun sees in his race beside.<br />
+That I should trust the daughter of a priest!<br />
+Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven!<br />
+Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings<br />
+And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals;<br />
+Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice,<br />
+And keeps the best for private luxury.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests.<br />
+Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful:<br />.
+That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful:<br />
+Live; thou art honest, for thou hat'st a priest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Thers.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with
+life, as I hope, and thou art knocked on the head,
+as I hope too, I shall be the first that ever escaped
+<span class="pgnm">357</span><a id="page_357" name="page_357"></a>
+the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and thou
+wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will
+bring to ruin.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ther.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Methinks, my soul is roused to her last work;<br />
+Has much to do, and little time to spare.<br />
+She starts within me, like a traveller,<br />
+Who sluggishly outslept his morning hour,<br />
+And mends his pace to reach his inn betimes.
+<span class="sdr">[Noise within, <span style="font-style: normal">Follow, follow!</span></span><br />
+A noise of arms! the traitor may be there;<br />
+Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of love,<br />
+The tent, may hold him; yet I dare not search,<br />
+For oh, I fear to find him in that place.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Troilus.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Calchas</span> and <span class="cnm">Cressida.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Where is he? I'll be justified, or die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> So quickly vanished! he was here but now.<br />
+He must be gone to search for Diomede;<br />
+For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Alas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> You must prevent, and not complain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> If Troilus die, I have no share in life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus<br />
+We lose not only a protector here,<br />
+But are debarred all future means of flight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What then remains?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Calch.</span> To interpose betimes<br />
+Betwixt their swords; or, if that cannot be,<br />
+To intercede for him, who shall be vanquished.<br />
+Fate leaves no middle course.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Calchas.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Clashing within.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Ah me! I hear them,<br />
+And fear 'tis past prevention.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">358</span><a id="page_358" name="page_358"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Diomede,</span> retiring before <span class="cnm">Troilus,</span> and falling
+as he enters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Now beg thy life, or die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> No; use thy fortune:<br />
+I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Scorn'st thou my mercy, villain!&mdash;Take thy wish.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Hold, hold your hand, my lord, and hear me speak.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Troilus</span> turns back; in which time <span class="cnm">Diomede</span>
+rises, Trojans and Greeks enter, and rank themselves
+on both sides of their Captains.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Did I not hear the voice of perjured Cressida?<br />
+Com'st thou to give the last stab to my heart?<br />
+As if the proofs of all thy former falsehood<br />
+Were not enough convincing, com'st thou now<br />
+To beg my rival's life?<br />
+Whom, oh, if any spark of truth remained,<br />
+Thou couldst not thus, even to my face, prefer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> What shall I say!&mdash;that you suspect me false,<br />
+Has struck me dumb! but let him live, my Troilus;<br />
+By all our loves, by all our past endearments,<br />
+I do adjure thee, spare him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hell and death!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> If ever I had power to bend your mind,<br />
+Believe me still your faithful Cressida;<br />
+And though my innocence appear like guilt,<br />
+Because I make his forfeit life my suit,<br />
+'Tis but for this, that my return to you<br />
+Would be cut off for ever by his death;<br />
+My father, treated like a slave, and scorned;<br />
+Myself in hated bonds a captive held.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Could I believe thee, could I think thee true,<br />
+In triumph would I bear thee back to Troy,<br />
+Though Greece could rally all her shattered troops,<br />
+And stand embattled to oppose my way.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">359</span><a id="page_359" name="page_359"></a>
+But, oh, thou syren, I will stop my ears<br />
+To thy enchanting notes; the winds shall bear<br />
+Upon their wings thy words, more light than they.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Alas! I but dissembled love to him.<br />
+If ever he had any proof, beyond<br />
+What modesty might give&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> No! witness this.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[The Ring shewn.</span><br />
+There, take her, Trojan, thou deserv'st her best;<br />
+You good, kind-natured, well-believing fools,<br />
+Are treasures to a woman.<br />
+I was a jealous, hard, vexatious lover,<br />
+And doubted even this pledge,&mdash;till full possession;<br />
+But she was honourable to her word,<br />
+And I have no just reason to complain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> O unexampled, frontless impudence!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Hell, show me such another tortured wretch as Troilus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Nay, grieve not; I resign her freely up;<br />
+I'm satisfied; and dare engage for Cressida,<br />
+That, if you have a promise of her person,<br />
+She shall be willing to come out of debt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>]
+My only lord, by all those holy vows,<br />
+Which, if there be a Power above, are binding,<br />
+Or, if there be a hell below, are fearful,<br />
+May every imprecation, which your rage<br />
+Can wish on me, take place, if I am false!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Nay, since you're so concerned to be believed,<br />
+I'm sorry I have pressed my charge so far:<br />
+Be what you would be thought; I can be grateful.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> Grateful! Oh torment! now hell's bluest flames<br />
+Receive her quick, with all her crimes upon her!<br />
+Let her sink spotted down! let the dark host<br />
+Make room, and point, and hiss her as she goes!<br />
+Let the most branded ghosts of all her sex<br />
+Rejoice, and cry,&mdash;"Here comes a blacker fiend!"<br />
+Let her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">360</span><a id="page_360" name="page_360"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Enough, my lord; you've said enough.<br /><br />
+This faithless, perjured, hated Cressida,<br />
+Shall be no more the subject of your curses:<br />
+Some few hours hence, and grief had done your work;<br />
+But then your eyes had missed the satisfaction,<br />
+Which thus I give you,&mdash;thus&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[She stabs herself; they both run to her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Help! save her, help!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Stand off, and touch me not, thou traitor Diomede;&mdash;<br />
+But you, my only Troilus, come near:<br />
+Trust me, the wound, which I have given this breast,<br />
+Is far less painful than the wound you gave it.<br />
+Oh, can you yet believe, that I am true?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> This were too much, even if thou hadst been false!<br />
+But oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,&mdash;<br />
+For such I know thee now, too late I know it!&mdash;<br />
+May all my curses, and ten thousand more,<br />
+Heavier than they, fall back upon my head;<br />
+Pelion and Ossa, from the giants' graves<br />
+Be torn by some avenging deity,<br />
+And hurled at me, a bolder wretch than they,<br />
+Who durst invade the skies!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cres.</span> Hear him not, heavens;<br />
+But hear me bless him with my latest breath!<br />
+And, since I question not your hard decree,<br />
+That doomed my days unfortunate and few,<br />
+Add all to him you take away from me;<br />
+And I die happy, that he thinks me true.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying!<br />
+Could she have cursed me worse! she died for me,<br />
+And, like a woman, I lament for her.<br />
+Distraction pulls me several ways at once:<br />
+Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes,<br />
+Despair then turns me back upon myself,<br />
+And bids me seek no more, but finish here.
+<span class="sdr">[Points his Sword to his Breast.</span><br />
+<span class="pgnm">361</span><a id="page_361" name="page_361"></a>
+Ha, smilest thou, traitor! thou instruct'st me best,<br />
+And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Diom.</span> Thy worst, for mine has been beforehand with thee;<br />
+I triumph in thy vain credulity,<br />
+Which levels thy despairing state to mine;<br />
+But yet thy folly, to believe a foe,<br />
+Makes thine the sharper and more shameful loss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Troil.</span> By my few moments of remaining life,<br />
+I did not hope for any future joy;<br />
+But thou hast given me pleasure ere I die,<br />
+To punish such a villain.&mdash;Fight apart;<span class="sdr">[To his Soldiers.</span><br />
+For heaven and hell have marked him out for me,<br />
+And I should grudge even his least drop of blood<br />
+To any other hand.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Troilus</span> and <span class="cnm">Diomede</span> fight, and both Parties
+engage at the same time. The Trojans make
+the Greeks retire, and <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> makes <span class="cnm">Diomede</span>
+give ground, and hurts him. Trumpets
+sound. <span class="cnm">Achilles</span> enters with his Myrmidons,
+on the backs of the Trojans, who fight in a
+ring, encompassed round. <span class="cnm">Troilus,</span> singling
+<span class="cnm">Diomede,</span> gets him down, and kills him; and
+<span class="cnm">Achilles</span> kills <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> upon him. All the
+Trojans die upon the place, <span class="cnm">Troilus</span> last.</span>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Agamemnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor,
+Ajax,</span> and Attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Our toils are done, and those aspiring walls,<br />
+The work of gods, and almost mating heaven,<br />
+Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Agam.</span> When mighty Hector fell beneath thy sword,<br />
+Their old foundations shook; their nodding towers<br />
+Threatened from high the amazed inhabitants;<br />
+And guardian-gods, for fear, forsook their fanes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Achil.</span> Patroclus, now be quiet; Hector's dead;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">362</span><a id="page_362" name="page_362"></a>
+And, as a second offering to thy ghost,<br />
+Lies Troilus high upon a heap of slain;<br />
+And noble Diomede beneath, whose death<br />
+This hand of mine revenged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ajax.</span> Revenged it basely:<br />
+For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest,<br />
+And so fell Hector; but 'tis vain to talk.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ulys.</span> Hail, Agamemnon! truly victor now!<br />
+While secret envy, and while open pride,<br />
+Among thy factious nobles discord threw;<br />
+While public good was urged for private ends,<br />
+And those thought patriots, who disturbed it most;<br />
+Then, like the headstrong horses of the sun,<br />
+That light, which should have cheered the world, consumed it:<br />
+Now peaceful order has resumed the reins,<br />
+Old Time looks young, and Nature seems renewed.<br />
+<span class="i1">Then, since from home-bred factions ruin springs,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Let subjects learn obedience to their kings.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">363</span><a id="page_363" name="page_363"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE,<br />
+SPOKEN BY THERSITES.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>These cruel critics put me into passion;</p>
+<p>For, in their lowering looks I read damnation:</p>
+<p>You expect a satire, and I seldom fail;</p>
+<p>When I'm first beaten, 'tis my part to rail.</p>
+<p>You British fools, of the old Trojan stock,</p>
+<p>That stand so thick, one cannot miss the flock,</p>
+<p>Poets have cause to dread a keeping pit,</p>
+<p>When women's cullies come to judge of wit.</p>
+<p>As we strew rat's-bane when we vermin fear,</p>
+<p>'Twere worth our cost to scatter fool-bane here;</p>
+<p>And, after all our judging fops were served,</p>
+<p>Dull poets, too, should have a dose reserved;</p>
+<p>Such reprobates, as, past all sense of shaming,</p>
+<p>Write on, and ne'er are satisfied with damning:</p>
+<p>Next, those, to whom the stage does not belong,</p>
+<p>Such whose vocation only is&mdash;to song;</p>
+<p>At most to prologue, when, for want of time,</p>
+<p>Poets take in for journey-work in rhime.</p>
+<p>But I want curses for those mighty shoals</p>
+<p>Of scribbling Chloris's, and Phyllis' fools:</p>
+<p>Those oafs should be restrained, during their lives,</p>
+<p>From pen and ink, as madmen are from knives.</p>
+<p>I could rail on, but 'twere a task as vain,</p>
+<p>As preaching truth at Rome, or wit in Spain:</p>
+<p>Yet, to huff out our play was worth my trying;</p>
+<p>John Lilburn 'scaped his judges by defying:<a class="ftnt" href="#Troil_6-1">[1]</a></p>
+<p>If guilty, yet I'm sure o' the church's blessing,</p>
+<p>By suffering for the plot, without confessing.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Troil_6-1" name="Troil_6-1"></a>Lilburn, the most turbulent, but the boldest and most upright of men, had
+the merit of defying and resisting the tyranny of the king, of the parliament,
+and of the protector. He was convicted in the star-chamber, but liberated by
+the parliament; he was tried on the parliamentary statute for treasons in
+1651, and before Cromwell's high court of justice in 1654; and notwithstanding
+an audacious defence,&mdash;which to some has been more perilous than a feeble
+cause,&mdash;he was, in both cases, triumphantly acquitted.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">364</span><a id="page_364" name="page_364"></a></div>
+<div>[Blank Page]</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><span class="pgnm">365</span><a id="page_365" name="page_365"></a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr" style="margin-top: 4em">THE</p>
+<h2 class="nomarg">SPANISH FRIAR;</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OR,</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td>
+<p class="epigram"><i>Ut melius possis fallere, sume togam.</i></p>
+<p class="smcap citation">&mdash;Mart.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td>
+<p class="epigram">&mdash;<i>Alterna revisens<br />
+Lasit, et in solido rursus fortuna locavit.</i></p>
+<p class="smcap citation">&mdash;Virg.</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">366</span><a id="page_366" name="page_366"></a></div>
+<div>[Blank Page]</div>
+<div><span class="pgnm">367</span><a id="page_367" name="page_367"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">THE SPANISH FRIAR.</h3>
+
+<p>The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery, is one of the best
+and most popular of our poet's dramatic efforts. The plot is,
+as Johnson remarks, particularly happy, for the coincidence
+and coalition of the tragic and comic plots. The grounds for this
+eminent critic's encomium will be found to lie more deep than
+appears at first sight. It was, indeed, a sufficiently obvious connection,
+to make the gay Lorenzo an officer of the conquering
+army, and attached to the person of Torrismond. This expedient
+could hardly have escaped the invention of the most vulgar playwright,
+that ever dovetailed tragedy and comedy together. The
+felicity of Dryden's plot, therefore, does not consist in the ingenuity
+of his original conception, but in the minutely artificial strokes,
+by which the reader is perpetually reminded of the dependence of
+the one part of the play on the other. These are so frequent, and
+appear so very natural, that the comic plot, instead of diverting our
+attention from the tragic business, recals it to our mind by constant
+and unaffected allusion. No great event happens in the higher region
+of the camp or court, that has not some indirect influence
+upon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and the part which
+the gallant is called upon to act in the revolution that winds
+up the tragic interest, while it is highly in character, serves
+to bring the catastrophe of both parts of the play under the eye
+of the spectator, at one and the same time. Thus much seemed
+necessary to explain the felicity of combination, upon which
+Dryden justly valued himself, and which Johnson sanctioned by
+his high commendation. But, although artfully conjoined, the
+different departments of this tragi-comedy are separate subjects
+of critical remark.</p>
+
+<p>The comic part of the Spanish Friar, as it gives the first title
+to the play, seems to claim our first attention. Indeed, some precedence
+is due to it in another point of view; for, though the
+tragic scenes may be matched in All for Love, Don Sebastian,
+and else where, the Spanish Friar contains by far the most happy
+of Dryden's comic effusions. It has, comparatively speaking, this
+high claim to commendation, that, although the intrigue is licentious,
+according to the invariable licence of the age, the language is,
+in general, free from the extreme and disgusting coarseness, which
+our author too frequently mistook for wit, or was contented to
+substitute in its stead. The liveliness and even brilliancy of the
+<span class="pgnm">368</span><a id="page_368" name="page_368"></a>
+dialogue, shows that Dryden, from the stores of his imagination,
+could, when he pleased, command that essential requisite
+of comedy; and that, if he has seldom succeeded, it was only
+because he mistook the road, or felt difficulty in travelling
+it. The character of Dominic is of that broadly ludicrous nature,
+which was proper to the old comedy. It would be difficult
+to show an ordinary conception more fully brought out. He is,
+like Falstaff, a compound of sensuality and talent, finely varied
+by the professional traits with which it suited the author's purpose
+to adorn his character. Such an addition was, it is true,
+more comic than liberal; but Dryden, whose constant dislike to
+the clerical order glances out in many of his performances, was
+not likely to be scrupulous, when called upon to pourtray one
+of their members in his very worst colours. To counterbalance
+the Friar's scandalous propensities of every sort, and to render
+him an object of laughter, rather than abhorrence, the author has
+gifted this reprobate churchman with a large portion of wit; by
+means of which, and by a ready presence of mind, always indicative
+of energy, he preserves an ascendence over the other characters,
+and escapes detection and disgrace, until poetical justice,
+and the conclusion of the play, called for his punishment. We
+have a natural indulgence for an amusing libertine; and, I believe,
+that, as most readers commiserate the disgrace of Falstaff,
+a few may be found to wish that Dominic's penance had been of
+a nature more decent and more theatrical than the poet has assigned
+him<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-1">[1]</a>. From the dedication, as well as the prologue, it
+appears that Dryden, however contrary to his sentiments at a
+future period, was, at present, among those who held up to contempt
+and execration the character of the Roman catholic priesthood.
+By one anonymous lampoon, this is ascribed to a temporary
+desertion of the court party, in resentment for the loss,
+or discontinuance of his pension. This allowance, during the
+pressure upon the Exchequer, was, at least, irregularly paid, of
+which Dryden repeatedly complains, and particularly in a letter
+to the Earl of Rochester. But the hardship was owing entirely
+to the poverty of the public purse; and, when the anonymous
+libeller affirms, that Dryden's pension was withdrawn, on account
+of his share in the Essay on Satire, he only shows that his veracity
+<span class="pgnm">369</span><a id="page_369" name="page_369"></a>
+is on a level with his poverty<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-2">[2]</a>. The truth seems to be, that
+Dryden partook in some degree of the general ferment which the
+discovery of the Popish Plot had excited; and we may easily suppose
+him to have done so without any impeachment to his monarchial
+tenets, since North himself admits, that at the first
+opening of the plot, the chiefs of the loyal party joined in the
+cry. Indeed, that mysterious transaction had been investigated
+by none more warmly than by Danby, the king's favourite
+minister, and a high favourer of the prerogative. Even when
+writing Absalom and Achitophel, our author by no means avows
+an absolute disbelief of the whole plot, while condemning the extraordinary
+exaggerations, by which it had been rendered the
+means of much bloodshed and persecution<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-3">[3]</a>. It seems, therefore,
+fair to believe, that, without either betraying or disguising his own
+principles, he chose, as a popular subject for the drama, an attack
+<span class="pgnm">370</span><a id="page_370" name="page_370"></a>
+upon an obnoxious priesthood, whom he, in common with all the
+nation, believed to have been engaged in the darkest intrigues
+against the king and government. I am afraid that this task was
+the more pleasing, from that prejudice against the clergy, of all countries
+and religions, which, as already noticed, our author displays, in
+common with other wits of that licentious age<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-4">[4]</a>. The character of
+the Spanish Friar was not, however, forgotten, when Dryden became
+a convert to the Roman Catholic persuasion; and, in many
+instances, as well as in that just quoted, it was assumed as the
+means of fixing upon him a charge of inconsistency in politics,
+and versatility in religion<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-5">[5]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>The tragic part of the "Spanish Friar" has uncommon merit.
+The opening of the Drama, and the picture of a besieged town in
+the last extremity, is deeply impressive, while the description of
+the noise of the night attack, and the gradual manner in which
+the intelligence of its success is communicated, arrests the attention,
+and prepares expectation for the appearance of the hero,
+with all the splendour which ought to attend the principal character
+in tragedy. The subsequent progress of the plot is liable
+to a capital objection, from the facility with which the queen,
+amiable and virtuous, as we are bound to suppose her, consents
+to the murder of the old dethroned monarch. We question if the
+operation of any motive, however powerful, could have been pleaded
+<span class="pgnm">371</span><a id="page_371" name="page_371"></a>
+with propriety, in apology for a breach of theatrical decorum,
+so gross, and so unnatural. But, in fact, the queen is only actuated
+by a sort of reflected ambition, a desire to secure to her lover
+a crown, which she thought in danger; but which, according to
+her own statement, she only valued on his account. This is surely
+too remote and indirect a motive, to urge a female to so horrid
+a crime. There is also something vilely cold-hearted, in her attempt
+to turn the guilt and consequences of her own crime upon
+Bertran, who, whatever faults he might have to others, was to
+the queen no otherwise obnoxious, than because the victim of
+her own inconstancy. The gallant, virtuous, and enthusiastic character
+of Torrismond, must be allowed, in some measure, to counterbalance
+that of his mistress, however unhappily he has placed
+his affections. But the real excellence of these scenes consists
+less in peculiarity of character, than in the vivacity and power of
+the language, which, seldom sinking into vulgarity, or rising into
+bombast, maintains the mixture of force and dignity, best adapted
+to the expression of tragic passion. Upon the whole, as the
+comic part of this play is our author's master-piece in comedy,
+the tragic plot may be ranked with his very best efforts of that
+kind, whether in "Don Sebastian," or "All for Love."</p>
+
+<p>The "Spanish Friar" appears to have been brought out shortly
+after Mr Thynne's murder, which is alluded to in the Prologue,
+probably early in 1681-2. The whimsical caricature, which it
+presented to the public, in Father Dominic, was received with rapture
+by the prejudiced spectators, who thought nothing could be
+exaggerated in the character of a Roman Catholic priest. Yet,
+the satire was still more severe in the first edition, and afterwards
+considerably softened<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-6">[6]</a>. It was, as Dryden himself calls it,
+a Protestant play; and certainly, as Jeremy Collier somewhere
+says, was rare Protestant diversion, and much for the credit
+of the Reformation. Accordingly, the "Spanish Friar" was
+the only play prohibited by James II. after his accession; an interdict,
+which may be easily believed no way disagreeable to
+the author, now a convert to the Roman church. It is very
+remarkable, that, after the Revolution, it was the first play represented
+by order of queen Mary, and honoured with her presence;
+a choice, of which she had abundant reason to repent, as
+the serious part of the piece gave as much scope for malicious application
+against herself, as the comic against the religion of her
+father<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_1-7">[7]</a>.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Spani_1-1" name="Spani_1-1"></a>Collier remarks the injustice of punishing the agent of Lorenzo's vice,
+while he was himself brought off with flying colours. He observes, "'Tis
+not the fault which is corrected, but the priest. The author's discipline is
+seldom without a bias. He commonly gives the laity the pleasure of an ill
+action, and the clergy the punishment." <i>View of the Immorality and Profaneness
+of the Stage</i>, p. 100.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-2" name="Spani_1-2"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<p>To satire next thy talent was addressed,</p>
+<p>Fell foul on all thy friends among the rest;</p>
+<p>Nay, even thy royal patron was not spared,</p>
+<p>But an obscene, a sauntering wretch declared.</p>
+<p>Thy loyal libel we can still produce,</p>
+<p>Beyond example, and beyond excuse.</p>
+<p>O strange return, to a forgiving king,</p>
+<p>(But the warmed viper wears the greatest sting,)</p>
+<p>For pension lost, and justly without doubt;</p>
+<p>When servants snarl we ought to kick them out.</p>
+<p>They that disdain their benefactor's bread.</p>
+<p>No longer ought by bounty to be fed.</p>
+<p>That lost, the visor changed, you turn about,</p>
+<p>And straight a true-blue protestant crept out.</p>
+<p>The Friar now was writ, and some will say,</p>
+<p>They smell a malcontent through all the play.</p>
+<p>The papist too was damned, unfit for trust,</p>
+<p>Called treacherous, shameless, profligate, unjust,</p>
+<p>And kingly power thought arbitrary lust.</p>
+<p>This lasted till thou didst thy pension gain,</p>
+<p>And that changed both thy morals and thy strain.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>The Laureat, 24th October, 1678.</i></p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-3" name="Spani_1-3"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<p>From hence began that plot, the nation's curse,</p>
+<p>Bad in itself, but represented worse.</p>
+<p>Raised in extremes, and in extremes decryed,</p>
+<p>With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied;</p>
+<p>Nor weighed nor winnowed by the multitude,</p>
+<p>But swallowed in the mass unchewed and crude.</p>
+<p>Some truth there was, but dashed and bruised with lies,</p>
+<p>To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.</p>
+<p>Succeeding times did equal folly call.</p>
+<p>Believing nothing, or believing all.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-4" name="Spani_1-4"></a>"Thus we see," says Collier, "how hearty these people are in their ill-will;
+how they attack religion under every form, and pursue the priesthood
+through all the subdivisions of opinion. Neither Jews nor Heathens, Turk
+nor Christians, Rome nor Geneva, church nor conventicle, can escape them.
+They are afraid lest virtue should have any quarters, undisturbed conscience any
+corner to retire to, or God worshipped in any place." <i>Short View, &amp;c.</i> p. 110.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-5" name="Spani_1-5"></a>"I have read somewhere in Mons. Rapin's <i>Reflections sur la Poetique</i>,
+that a certain Venetian nobleman, Andrea Naugeria by name, was wont
+every year to sacrifice a Martial to the manes of Catullus: In imitation of
+this, a celebrated poet, in the preface before the Spanish Friar, is pleased to
+acquaint the world, that he has indignation enough to burn a Bussy D'Amboys,
+annually, to the memory of Ben Jonson. Since the modern ceremony,
+of offering up one author at the altar of another, is likely to advance into a
+fashion; and having already the authority of two such great men to recommend
+it, the courteous reader may be pleased to take notice, that the author
+of the following dialogue is resolved, (God willing) on the festival of the
+Seven Sleepers, as long as he lives, to sacrifice the Hind and Panther to the
+memory of Mr Quarels and John Bunyan: Or, if a writer that has notoriously
+contradicted himself, and espoused the quarrel of two different parties,
+may be considered under two distinct characters, he designs to deliver up the
+author of the Hind and Panther, to be lashed severely by, and to beg pardon
+of, the worthy gentleman that wrote the Spanish Friar, and the Religion
+Laici." <i>The reason of Mr Bayes' changing his religion.</i> Preface.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-6" name="Spani_1-6"></a>"The Revolter," a tragi-comedy, 1687, p. 29.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_1-7" name="Spani_1-7"></a>It is impossible to avoid transcribing the whole account of this representation,
+with some other curious particulars, contained in a letter from the
+<span class="pgnm">372</span><a id="page_372" name="page_372"></a>
+earl of Nottingham, published by Sir John Dalrymple, from a copy given
+him by the bishop of Dromore; and also inserted by Mr Malone in his third
+volume of Dryden's prose works.
+
+<p>"I am loth to send blank paper by a carrier, but am rather willing to send
+some of the tattle of the town, than nothing at all; which will at least serve
+for an hour's chat,&mdash;and then convert the scrawl to its proper use.</p>
+
+<p>"The only day her Majesty gave herself the diversion of a play, and that
+on which she designed to see another, has furnished the town with discourse
+for near a month. The choice of the play was THE SPANISH FRIAR, the
+only play forbid by the late K[ing], Some unhappy expressions, among
+which those that follow, put her in some disorder, and forced her to hold up
+her fan, and often look behind her, and call for her palatine and hood, and
+any thing she could next think of; while those who were in the pit before
+her, turned their heads over their shoulders, and all in general directed their
+looks towards her, whenever their fancy led them to make any application of
+what was said. In one place, where the queen of Arragon is going to church
+in procession, 'tis said by a spectator, 'Very good; she usurps the throne,
+keeps the old king in prison, and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing
+on her army;'&mdash;And when said, 'That 'tis observed at Court, who weeps,
+and who wears black for good king Sancho's death,' 'tis said, 'Who is that,
+that can flatter a Court like this? Can I sooth tyranny? seem pleas'd to see
+my Royal Master murthered; his crown usurped; a distaff in the throne?'&mdash;And
+'What title has this queen, but lawless force; and force must pull her
+down'&mdash;Twenty more things are said, which may be wrested to what they
+were never designed: but however, the observations then made furnished
+the town with talk, till something else happened, which gave it much occasion
+for discourse; for another play being ordered to be acted, the queen
+came not, being taken up with other diversion. She dined with Mrs Gradens,
+the famous woman in the hall, that sells fine laces and head-dresses;
+from thence she went to the Jew's, that sells Indian things; to Mrs Ferguson's,
+De Vett's, Mrs Harrison's, and other Indian houses; but not to Mrs
+Potter's, though in her way; which caused Mrs Potter to say, that she might
+as well have hoped for that honour as others, considering that the whole design
+of bringing the queen and king was managed at her house, and the consultations
+held there; so that she might as well have thrown away a little
+money in raffling there, as well as at the other houses: but it seems that my
+lord Devonshire has got Mrs Potter to be laundress: she has not much countenance
+of the queen, her daughter still keeping the Indian house her mother
+had. The same day the queen went to one Mrs Wise's, a famous woman
+for telling fortunes, but could not prevail with her to tell anything;
+though to others she has been very true, and has foretold that king James
+shall came in again, and the duke of Norfolk shall lose his head: the last, I
+suppose, will naturally be the consequence of the first. These things, however
+innocent, have passed the censure of the town: and, besides a private
+reprimand given, the king gave one in <i>public</i>; saying to the queen, that he
+heard she dined at a bawdy-house, and desired the next time she went, he
+might go. She said, she had done nothing but what the late queen had done.
+He asked her, if she meant to make her, her example. More was said on
+this occasion than ever was known before; but it was borne with all the submission
+of a good wife, who leaves all to the direction of the k&mdash;&mdash;, and diverts
+herself with walking six or seven miles a-day, and looking after her buildings,
+making of fringes, and such like innocent things; and does not meddle
+in government, though she has better title to do it than the late queen had."</p></li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">373</span><a id="page_373" name="page_373"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+JOHN,
+LORD HAUGHTON<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+<p class="smcap">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>When I first designed this play, I found, or
+thought I found, somewhat so moving in the serious
+part of it, and so pleasant in the comic, as
+might deserve a more than ordinary care in both;
+accordingly, I used the best of my endeavour,
+in the management of two plots, so very different
+from each other, that it was not perhaps the
+talent of every writer to have made them of a
+piece. Neither have I attempted other plays of the
+<span class="pgnm">374</span><a id="page_374" name="page_374"></a>
+same nature, in my opinion, with the same judgment,
+though with like success. And though many
+poets may suspect themselves for the fondness and
+partiality of parents to their youngest children, yet
+I hope I may stand exempted from this rule, because
+I know myself too well to be ever satisfied
+with my own conceptions, which have seldom reached
+to those ideas that I had within me; and consequently,
+I may presume to have liberty to judge
+when I write more or less pardonably, as an ordinary
+marksman may know certainly when he shoots
+less wide at what he aims. Besides, the care and
+pains I have bestowed on this, beyond my other
+tragi-comedies, may reasonably make the world conclude,
+that either I can do nothing tolerably, or
+that this poem is not much amiss. Few good pictures
+have been finished at one sitting; neither can
+a true just play, which is to bear the test of ages,
+be produced at a heat, or by the force of fancy,
+without the maturity of judgment. For my own
+part, I have both so just a diffidence of myself, and
+so great a reverence for my audience, that I dare
+venture nothing without a strict examination; and
+am as much ashamed to put a loose indigested play
+upon the public, as I should be to offer brass money
+in a payment; for though it should be taken, (as it
+is too often on the stage) yet it would be found in
+the second telling; and a judicious reader will discover,
+in his closet, that trashy stuff, whose glittering
+deceived him in the action. I have often heard
+the stationer sighing in his shop, and wishing for
+those hands to take off his melancholy bargain,
+which clapped its performance on the stage. In a
+playhouse, every thing contributes to impose upon
+the judgment; the lights, the scenes, the habits,
+and, above all, the grace of action, which is commonly
+the best where there is the most need of it,
+<span class="pgnm">375</span><a id="page_375" name="page_375"></a>
+surprise the audience, and cast a mist upon their
+understandings; not unlike the cunning of a juggler,
+who is always staring us in the face, and over-whelming
+us with gibberish, only that he may gain
+the opportunity of making the cleaner conveyance
+of his trick. But these false beauties of the stage
+are no more lasting than a rainbow; when the actor
+ceases to shine upon them, when he gilds them
+no longer with his reflection, they vanish in a
+twinkling. I have sometimes wondered, in the
+reading, what was become of those glaring colours
+which amazed me in "Bussy D'Amboys" upon the
+theatre; but when I had taken up what I supposed
+a fallen star, I found I had been cozened with a
+jelly<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_2-2">[2]</a>; nothing but a cold, dull mass, which glittered
+no longer than it was shooting; a dwarfish
+thought, dressed up in gigantic words, repetition
+in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross
+hyperboles; the sense of one line expanded prodigiously
+into ten; and, to sum up all, uncorrect
+English, and a hideous mingle of false poetry, and
+true nonsense; or, at best, a scantling of wit, which
+lay gasping for life, and groaning beneath a heap of
+rubbish. A famous modern poet used to sacrifice every
+year a Statius to Virgil's manes<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_2-3">[3]</a>; and I have indignation
+<span class="pgnm">376</span><a id="page_376" name="page_376"></a>
+enough to burn a D'AMBOIS annually, to
+the memory of Jonson<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_2-4">[4]</a>. But now, my lord, I am
+sensible, perhaps too late, that I have gone too far:
+for, I remember some verses of my own Maximin
+and Almanzor, which cry vengeance upon me for
+their extravagance, and which I wish heartily in
+the same fire with Statius and Chapman. All I
+can say for those passages, which are, I hope, not
+many, is, that I knew they were bad enough to
+please, even when I wrote them; but I repent of
+them amongst my sins; and, if any of their fellows
+intrude by chance into my present writings, I draw
+<span class="pgnm">377</span><a id="page_377" name="page_377"></a>
+a stroke over all those Dalilah's of the theatre; and
+am resolved I will settle myself no reputation by
+the applause of fools. It is not that I am mortified
+to all ambition, but I scorn as much to take it from
+half-witted judges, as I should to raise an estate by
+cheating of bubbles. Neither do I discommend the
+lofty style in tragedy, which is naturally pompous
+and magnificent; but nothing is truly sublime, that
+is not just and proper. If the antients had judged
+by the same measure, which a common reader
+takes, they had concluded Statius to have written
+higher than Virgil, for,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Quæ super-imposito moles geminata Colosso</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="pgnm">378</span><a id="page_378" name="page_378"></a>
+carries a more thundering kind of sound, than</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Tityre, tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi:</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">yet Virgil had all the majesty of a lawful prince,
+and Statius only the blustering of a tyrant. But
+when men affect a virtue which they cannot easily
+reach, they fall into a vice, which bears the nearest
+resemblance to it. Thus, an injudicious poet,
+who aims at loftiness, runs easily into the swelling
+puffy style, because it looks like greatness. I remember,
+when I was a boy, I thought inimitable
+Spencer a mean poet, in comparison of Sylvester's
+"Dubartas," and was wrapt into an ecstasy when I
+read these lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Now, when the winter's keener breath began</p>
+<p>To crystalize the Baltic ocean;</p>
+<p>To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods,</p>
+<p>And periwig with snow the bald-pate woods:&mdash;<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_2-5">[5]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pgnm">379</span><a id="page_379" name="page_379"></a>
+I am much deceived if this be not abominable
+fustian, that is, thoughts and words ill-sorted, and
+without the least relation to each other; yet I dare
+not answer for an audience, that they would not
+clap it on the stage: so little value there is to be
+given to the common cry, that nothing but madness
+can please madmen, and the poet must be of a
+piece with the spectators, to gain a reputation with
+them. But, as in a room, contrived for state, the
+height of the roof should bear a proportion to the
+area; so, in the heightenings of poetry, the strength
+and vehemence of figures should be suited to the
+occasion, the subject, and the persons. All beyond
+this is monstrous: it is out of nature, it is an excrescence,
+and not a living part of poetry. I had
+not said thus much, if some young gallants, who
+pretend to criticism, had not told me, that this tragi-comedy
+wanted the dignity of style; but, as a
+man, who is charged with a crime of which he
+thinks himself innocent, is apt to be too eager in
+his own defence; so, perhaps, I have vindicated
+my play with more partiality than I ought, or than
+such a trifle can deserve. Yet, whatever beauties
+it may want, it is free at least from the grossness
+of those faults I mentioned: what credit it has
+gained upon the stage, I value no farther than in
+reference to my profit, and the satisfaction I had, in
+seeing it represented with all the justness and gracefulness
+of action. But, as it is my interest to please
+my audience, so it is my ambition to be read: that
+I am sure is the more lasting and the nobler design:
+for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are
+the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly
+judged in the vehemence of action: all things are
+there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the objects
+only glide before the eye, and disappear. The
+most discerning critic can judge no more of these
+<span class="pgnm">380</span><a id="page_380" name="page_380"></a>
+silent graces in the action, than he who rides post
+through an unknown country can distinguish the
+situation of places, and the nature of the soil. The
+purity of phrase, the clearness of conception and
+expression, the boldness maintained to majesty, the
+significancy and sound of words, not strained into
+bombast, but justly elevated; in short, those very
+words and thoughts, which cannot be changed, but
+for the worse, must of necessity escape our transient
+view upon the theatre; and yet, without all
+these, a play may take. For, if either the story
+move us, or the actor help the lameness of it with
+his performance, or now and then a glittering beam
+of wit or passion strike through the obscurity of
+the poem, any of these are sufficient to effect a present
+liking, but not to fix a lasting admiration; for
+nothing but truth can long continue; and time is
+the surest judge of truth. I am not vain enough
+to think that I have left no faults in this, which that
+touchstone will not discover; neither, indeed, is it
+possible to avoid them in a play of this nature.
+There are evidently two actions in it; but it will
+be clear to any judicious man, that with half the
+pains I could have raised a play from either of
+them; for this time I satisfied my humour, which
+was to tack two plays together; and to break a rule
+for the pleasure of variety. The truth is, the audience
+are grown weary of continued melancholy
+scenes; and I dare venture to prophecy, that few
+tragedies, except those in verse, shall succeed in
+this age, if they are not lightened with a course of
+mirth; for the feast is too dull and solemn without
+the fiddles. But how difficult a task this is,
+will soon be tried; for a several genius is required
+to either way; and, without both of them, a man,
+in my opinion, is but half a poet for the stage.
+Neither is it so trivial an undertaking, to make a
+<span class="pgnm">381</span><a id="page_381" name="page_381"></a>
+tragedy end happily; for it is more difficult to save,
+than it is to kill. The dagger and the cup of poison
+are always in a readiness; but to bring the action
+to the last extremity, and then by probable
+means to recover all, will require the art and judgement
+of a writer; and cost him many a pang in
+the performance.</p>
+
+<p>And now, my lord, I must confess, that what I
+have written, looks more like a Preface, than a Dedication;
+and, truly, it was thus far my design,
+that I might entertain you with somewhat in my
+own art, which might be more worthy of a noble
+mind, than the stale exploded trick of fulsome
+panegyrics. It is difficult to write justly on any
+thing, but almost impossible in praise. I shall
+therefore wave so nice a subject; and only tell
+you, that, in recommending a protestant play to a
+protestant patron, as I do myself an honour, so I
+do your noble family a right, who have been always
+eminent in the support and favour of our religion
+and liberties. And if the promises of your youth,
+your education at home, and your experience abroad,
+deceive me not, the principles you have embraced
+are such, as will no way degenerate from your ancestors,
+but refresh their memory in the minds of
+all true Englishmen, and renew their lustre in your
+person; which, my lord, is not more the wish, than
+it is the constant expectation, of</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1">Your lordship's</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Most obedient, faithful servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i3 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Spani_2-1" name="Spani_2-1"></a>John, Lord Haughton, eldest son of the Earl of Clare.
+succeeded to his father, was created Marquis of Clare, and died
+1711, leaving an only daughter, who married the eldest son of the
+famous Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_2-2" name="Spani_2-2"></a>See <a href="#OEdip_4-6">note on &OElig;dipus, p. 151.</a></li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_2-3" name="Spani_2-3"></a>Dryden appears to have alluded to the following passage in
+Strada, though without a very accurate recollection of its contents:
+<i>"Sane Andreas Naugerius Valerio Martiali acriter infensus,
+solemne jam habebat in illum aliquanto petulantius jocari.
+Etenim natali suo, accitis ad geniale epulum amicis, postquam
+prolixe de poeticæ laudibus super mensam disputaverat; ostensurum
+se aiebat a cæna, quo tandem modo laudari poesim deceret: Mox
+aferri jubebat Martialis volumen, (hæc erat mensæ appendix) atque
+igni proprior factus, illustri conflagratione absumendum flammis
+imponebat: addebatque eo incendio litare se Musis, Manibusque
+Virgilij, cujus imitatorem cultoremque prestare se melius
+haud posset, quam si vilia poetarum capita per undas insecutus ac
+flammas perpetuo perdidisset. Nec se eo loco tenuit, sed cum
+Silvas aliquot ab se conscriptas legisset, audissetque Statianu characteri
+similes videri, iratus sibi, quod a Martiale fugiens alio declinasset
+a Virgilio, cum primum se recessit domum, in Silvas
+conjecit ignem."</i> <i>Stradæ Prolusiones</i>, Lib. II. Pro. 5. From
+this passage, it is obvious, that it was Martial, not Statius, whom
+Andreas Navagero sacrificed to Virgil, although he burned his
+own verses when they were accused of a resemblance to the style
+of the author of the Thebaid. In the same prolusion, Strada
+quotes the "blustering" line, afterwards censured by Dryden;
+but erroneously reads,<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Super imposito moles <i>gemmata</i> colosso.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_2-4" name="Spani_2-4"></a>"Bussy D'Ambois," a tragedy, once much applauded, was
+the favourite production of George Chapman. If Dryden could
+have exhausted every copy of this bombast performance in one
+holocaust, the public would have been no great losers, as may be
+apparent from the following quotations:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bussy.</span> I'll sooth his plots, and strew my hate with smiles,<br />
+Till, all at once, the close mines of my heart<br />
+Rise at full state, and rush into his blood.<br />
+I'll bind his arm in silk, and rub his flesh,<br />
+To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush<br />
+Into some kennel, where it loves to lie;<br />
+And policy be flanked with policy.<br />
+Yet shall the feeling centre, where we meet.<br />
+Groan with the weight of my approaching feet.<br />
+I'll make the inspired threshold of his court<br />
+Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps,<br />
+Before I enter; yet, I will appear<br />
+Like calm securitie, befor a ruin.<br />
+A politician must, like lightning, melt<br />
+The very marrow, and not taint the skin;<br />
+His wayes must not be seen through, the superficies<br />
+Of the green centre must not taste his feet,<br />
+When hell is plowed up with the wounding tracts,<br />
+And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Montsurry, when he discovers that the Friar had acted as confident
+in the intrigue betwixt his lady and d'Ambois, thus elegantly
+expresses the common idea of the world being turned <i>upside
+down.</i><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1">Now, is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;</p>
+<p>Even heaven itself must see and suffer ill.</p>
+<p>The too huge bias of the world hath swayed</p>
+<p>Her back-part upwards, and with <i>that</i> she braves</p>
+<p>This hemisphere, that long her month hath mocked.</p>
+<p>The gravity of her religious face,</p>
+<p>Now grown too weighty with her sacrilege,</p>
+<p>And here discerned sophisticate enough,</p>
+<p>Turns to the antipodes, and all the forms</p>
+<p>That here allusions have impressed in her,</p>
+<p>Have eaten through her back, and now all see</p>
+<p>How she is riveted with hypocrisie.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yet, I observe, from the prologue to the edition of 1641, that
+the part of D'Ambois was considered as a high test of a players'
+talents:<br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1">&mdash;Field is gone,</p>
+<p>Whose action first did give it name; and one</p>
+<p>Who came the neatest to him, is denied,</p>
+<p>By his grey beard, to shew the height and pride</p>
+<p>Of d'Ambois' youth and braverie. Yet to hold</p>
+<p>Our title still a-foot, and not grow cold,</p>
+<p>By giving't o'er, a third man with his best</p>
+<p>Of care and paines defends our interest.</p>
+<p>As Richard he was liked, nor do we fear,</p>
+<p>In personating d'Ambois, heile appear</p>
+<p>To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent,</p>
+<p>As heretofore, give him encouragement.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I believe the successor of Field, in this once favourite character,
+was Hart. The piece was revived after the Restoration with
+great success.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_2-5" name="Spani_2-5"></a>Dryden has elsewhere ridiculed this absurd passage. The
+original has "periwig with <i>wool</i>."</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">382</span><a id="page_382" name="page_382"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Now, luck for us, and a kind hearty pit;</p>
+<p>For he, who pleases, never fails of wit:</p>
+<p>Honour is yours;</p>
+<p>And you, like kings at city-treats, bestow it;</p>
+<p>The writer kneels, and is bid rise a poet;</p>
+<p>But you are fickle sovereigns, to our sorrow;</p>
+<p>You dub to-day, and hang a man to-morrow:</p>
+<p>You cry the same sense up, and down again,</p>
+<p>Just like brass-money once a year in Spain:</p>
+<p>Take you in the mood, whate'er base metal come,</p>
+<p>You coin as fast as groats at Birmingham:</p>
+<p>Though 'tis no more like sense, in antient plays,</p>
+<p>Than Rome's religion like St Peter's days.</p>
+<p>In short, so swift your judgments turn and wind,</p>
+<p>You cast our fleetest wits a mile behind.</p>
+<p>'Twere well your judgments but in plays did range,</p>
+<p>But e'en your follies and debauches change</p>
+<p>With such a whirl, the poets of our age</p>
+<p>Are tired, and cannot score them on the stage;</p>
+<p>Unless each vice in short-hand they indict,</p>
+<p>Even as notch'd prentices whole sermons write<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_3-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+<p>The heavy Hollanders no vices know,</p>
+<p>But what they used a hundred years ago;</p>
+<p>Like honest plants, where they were stuck, they grow.</p>
+<p>They cheat, but still from cheating sires they come;</p>
+<p>They drink, but they were christened first in mum.</p>
+<p>Their patrimonial sloth the Spaniards keep,</p>
+<p>And Philip first taught Philip how to sleep.</p>
+<p>The French and we still change; but here's the curse,</p>
+<p>They change for better, and we change for worse;</p>
+<p>They take up our old trade of conquering,</p>
+<p>And we are taking theirs, to dance and sing:</p>
+<p>Our fathers did, for change, to France repair,</p>
+<p>And they, for change, will try our English air;</p>
+<p><span class="pgnm">383</span><a id="page_383" name="page_383"></a>
+As children, when they throw one toy away,</p>
+<p>Strait a more foolish gewgaw comes in play:</p>
+<p>So we, grown penitent, on serious thinking,</p>
+<p>Leave whoring, and devoutly fall to drinking.</p>
+<p>Scowering the watch grows out-of-fashion wit:</p>
+<p>Now we set up for tilting in the pit,</p>
+<p>Where 'tis agreed by bullies chicken-hearted,</p>
+<p>To fright the ladies first, and then be parted.</p>
+<p>A fair attempt has twice or thrice been made,</p>
+<p>To hire night murderers, and make death a trade<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_3-2">[2]</a>.</p>
+<p>When murder's out, what vice can we advance?</p>
+<p>Unless the new-found poisoning trick of France:</p>
+<p>And, when their art of rats-bane we have got,</p>
+<p>By way of thanks, we'll send them o'er our plot.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Spani_3-1" name="Spani_3-1"></a>It was anciently a part of the apprentice's duty, not only to carry the family
+bible to church, but to take notes of the sermon for the edification of
+his master or mistress.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_3-2" name="Spani_3-2"></a>Alluding apparently to the assassination of Thomas Thynne, esq. in
+Pall-Mall, by the hired bravoes of count Coningsmark.</li>
+</ol></div>
+<div><span class="pgnm">384</span><a id="page_384" name="page_384"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Torrismond,</span> <i>Son of</i> <span class="smcap">Sancho,</span> <i>the deposed King, believing
+himself Son of</i> <span class="smcap">Raymond.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Bertran,</span> <i>a Prince of the blood.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Alphonso,</span> <i>a general Officer, Brother to</i> <span class="smcap">Raymond.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Lorenzo,</span> <i>his Son.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Raymond,</span> <i>a Nobleman, supposed Father of</i> <span class="smcap">Torrismond.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Pedro,</span> <i>an Officer.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Gomez,</span> <i>an old Usurer.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Dominick,</span> <i>the Spanish Friar.</i></p>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Leonora,</span> <i>Queen of Arragon.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Teresa,</span> <i>Woman to</i> <span class="smcap">Leonora.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Elvira,</span> <i>Wife to</i> <span class="smcap">Gomez.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">385</span><a id="page_385" name="page_385"></a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr" style="margin-top: 4em;">THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">SPANISH FRIAR:</h3>
+<p class="ctr">OR THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">DOUBLE DISCOVERY.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.&mdash;SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Alphonso</span> and <span class="cnm">Pedro</span> meet, with Soldiers on each
+Side, Drums, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Stand: give the word.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> The queen of Arragon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Pedro?&mdash;how goes the night?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> She wears apace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Then welcome day-light; we shall have
+warm work on't.<br />
+The Moor will 'gage<br />
+His utmost forces on this next assault,<br />
+To win a queen and kingdom.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Pox on this lion-way of wooing, though.<br />
+Is the queen stirring yet?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">386</span><a id="page_386" name="page_386"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Alph.</span> She has not been abed, but in her chapel<br />
+All night devoutly watched, and bribed the saints<br />
+With vows for her deliverance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> O, Alphonso!<br />
+I fear they come too late. Her father's crimes<br />
+Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers.<br />
+A crown usurped; a lawful king deposed,<br />
+In bondage held, debarred the common light;<br />
+His children murdered, and his friends destroyed,&mdash;<br />
+What can we less expect than what we feel,<br />
+And what we fear will follow?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Heaven avert it!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Then heaven must not be heaven. Judge the event<br />
+By what has passed. The usurper joyed not long<br />
+His ill-got crown:&mdash;'tis true, he died in peace,&mdash;<br />
+Unriddle that, ye powers!&mdash;but left his daughter,<br />
+Our present queen, engaged upon his death-bed,<br />
+To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed father<br />
+Had helped to make him great.<br />
+Hence, you well know, this fatal war arose;<br />
+Because the Moor Abdalla, with whose troops<br />
+The usurper gained the kingdom, was refused;<br />
+And, as an infidel, his love despised.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Well, we are soldiers, Pedro; and, like lawyers,<br />
+Plead for our pay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> A good cause would do well though:<br />
+It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran<br />
+Has now three times been beaten by the Moors:<br />
+What hope we have, is in young Torrismond,<br />
+Your brother's son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> He's a successful warrior,<br />
+And has the soldiers' hearts: upon the skirts<br />
+Of Arragon our squandered troops he rallies.<br />
+Our watchmen from the towers with longing eyes<br />
+Expect his swift arrival.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">387</span><a id="page_387" name="page_387"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ped.</span> It must be swift, or it will come too late.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> No more.&mdash;Duke Bertran.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Bertran</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Relieve the sentries that have watched all night.<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To Ped.</span>] Now, colonel, have you disposed your men,<br />
+That you stand idle here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Mine are drawn off<br />
+To take a short repose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Short let it be:<br />
+For, from the Moorish camp, this hour and more,<br />
+There has been heard a distant humming noise,<br />
+Like bees disturbed, and arming in their hives.<br />
+What courage in our soldiers? Speak! What hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> As much as when physicians shake their heads,<br />
+And bid their dying patient think of heaven.<br />
+Our walls are thinly manned; our best men slain;<br />
+The rest, an heartless number, spent with watching,<br />
+And harassed out with duty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Good-night all, then.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life<br />
+I have to lose. I'll plant my colours down<br />
+In the mid-breach, and by them fix my foot;<br />
+Say a short soldier's prayer, to spare the trouble<br />
+Of my new friends above; and then expect<br />
+The next fair bullet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Never was known a night of such distraction;<br />
+Noise so confused and dreadful; jostling crowds.<br />
+That run, and know not whither; torches gliding,<br />
+Like meteors, by each other in the streets.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> I met a reverend, fat, old gouty friar,&mdash;<br />
+With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin<br />
+Might rest upon it; a true son of the church;<br />
+Fresh-coloured, well thriven on his trade,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">388</span><a id="page_388" name="page_388"></a>
+Come puffing with his greasy bald-pate choir,<br />
+And fumbling o'er his beads in such an agony,<br />
+He told them false, for fear. About his neck<br />
+There hung a wench, the label of his function,<br />
+Whom he shook off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.<br />
+It seems the holy stallion durst not score<br />
+Another sin, before he left the world.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter a Captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Capt.</span> To arms, my lord, to arms!<br />
+From the Moors' camp the noise grows louder still:<br />
+Rattling of armour, trumpets, drums, and ataballes;<br />
+And sometimes peals of shouts that rend the heavens,<br />
+Like victory: then groans again, and howlings,<br />
+Like those of vanquished men; but every echo<br />
+Goes fainter off, and dies in distant sounds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Some false attack: expect on t'other side.<br />
+One to the gunners on St Jago's tower; bid them, for shame,<br />
+Level their cannon lower: On my soul<br />
+They are all corrupted with the gold of Barbary,<br />
+To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter a second Captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Capt.</span> My lord, here's fresh intelligence arrived.<br />
+Our army, led by valiant Torrismond,<br />
+Is now in hot engagement with the Moors;<br />
+'Tis said, within their trenches.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I think all fortune is reserved for him!&mdash;<br />
+He might have sent us word though;<br />
+And then we could have favoured his attempt<br />
+With sallies from the town.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> It could not be:<br />
+We were so close blocked up, that none could peep<br />
+Upon the walls and live. But yet 'tis time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:<br />
+On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">389</span><a id="page_389" name="page_389"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Oh envy, envy, how it works within him!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+How now? what means this show?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> 'Tis a procession.<br />
+The queen is going to the great cathedral,<br />
+To pray for our success against the Moors.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Very good: she usurps the throne, keeps
+the old king in prison, and, at the same time, is
+praying for a blessing. Oh religion and roguery,
+how they go together!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[A Procession of Priests and Choristers in White,
+with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies,
+goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing,</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Look down, ye blessed above, look down,</p>
+<p class="i1">Behold our weeping matrons' tears,</p>
+<p class="i1">Behold our tender virgins' fears,</p>
+<p>And with success our armies crown.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Look down, ye blessed above, look down:</p>
+<p class="i1">Oh! save us, save as, and our state restore;</p>
+<p class="i1">For pity, pity, pity, we implore:</p>
+<p class="dlg">For pity, pity, pity, we implore.
+<span class="sdr">[The Procession goes off; and shout within.  Then</span><br /><br /></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo,</span> who kneels to <span class="cnm">Alphonso.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> [<span class="sdm">To Alph.</span>] A joyful cry; and see your son
+Lorenzo. Good news, kind heaven!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To Lor.</span>]<br />
+O welcome, welcome! is the general safe?<br />
+How near our army? when shall we be succoured?<br />
+Or, are we succoured? are the Moors removed?<br />
+Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more;<br />
+Answer them all together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">390</span><a id="page_390" name="page_390"></a>
+The general's well; his army too is safe,<br />
+As victory can make them. The Moors' king<br />
+Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.<br />
+At dawn of day our general cleft his pate,<br />
+Spite of his woollen night-cap: a slight wound;<br />
+Perhaps he may recover.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Thou reviv'st me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> By my computation now, the victory was
+gained before the procession was made for it; and
+yet it will go hard but the priests will make a miracle
+of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Yes, faith; we came like bold intruding guests,<br />
+And took them unprepared to give us welcome.<br />
+Their scouts we killed, then found their body sleeping;<br />
+And as they lay confused, we stumbled o'er them,<br />
+And took what joint came next, arms, heads, or legs,<br />
+Somewhat indecently. But when men want light,<br />
+They make but bungling work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I'll to the queen,<br />
+And bear the news.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> That's young Lorenzo's duty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I'll spare his trouble.&mdash;<br />
+This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;<br />
+He must be mine, or ruined.<span class="sdr">[Aside, and Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Pedro a word:&mdash;[<span class="sdm">whisper.</span>]</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,<br />
+In spite of his dissembling.<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To Lorenzo.</span>] How many of the enemy are slain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Troth, sir, we were in haste, and could not stay<br />
+To score the men we killed; but there they lie:<br />
+Best send our women out to take the tale;<br />
+There's circumcision in abundance for them.
+<span class="sdr">[Turns to <span class="cnm">Pedro</span> again.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">391</span><a id="page_391" name="page_391"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Alph.</span> How far did you pursue them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Some few miles.&mdash;<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To Pedro</span>] Good store of harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?<br />
+Pedro, they must be had, and speedily;<br />
+I've kept a tedious fast.<span class="sdr">[Whisper again.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> When will he make his entry? he deserves<br />
+Such triumphs as were given by ancient Rome:<br />
+Ha, boy, what say'st thou?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> As you say, sir, that Rome was very ancient.<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To Pedro.</span>] I leave the choice to you; fair, black, tall, low,<br />
+Let her but have a nose; and you may tell her,<br />
+I am rich in jewels, rings, and bobbing pearls,<br />
+Plucked from Moors' ears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Lorenzo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Somewhat busy<br />
+About affairs relating to the public.&mdash;<br />
+A seasonable girl, just in the nick now&mdash;<span class="sdr">[To Pedro.</span><br />
+<span class="sdr">[Trumpets within.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> I hear the general's trumpet. Stand and mark<br />
+How he will be received; I fear, but coldly.<br />
+There hung a cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Then look to see a storm on Torrismond's;<br />
+Looks fright not men. The general has seen Moors<br />
+With as bad faces; no dispraise to Bertran's.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> 'Twas rumoured in the camp, he loves the queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> He drinks her health devoutly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> That may breed bad blood betwixt him and Bertran.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Yes, in private.<br />
+But Bertran has been taught the arts of court,<br />
+To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin,<br />
+O here they come.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">392</span><a id="page_392" name="page_392"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond</span> and Officers on one Side, <span class="cnm">Bertran</span>
+attended on the other; they embrace, <span class="cnm">Bertran</span>
+bowing low.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Just as I prophesied.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Death and hell, he laughs at him!&mdash;in his face too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> O you mistake him; 'twas an humble grin,<br />
+The fawning joy of courtiers and of dogs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Here are nothing but lies to be expected:
+I'll even go lose myself in some blind alley, and try
+if any courteous damsel will think me worth the
+finding.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside, and Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Now he begins to open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Your country rescued, and your queen relieved,&mdash;<br />
+A glorious conquest, noble Torrismond!<br />
+The people rend the skies with loud applause,<br />
+And heaven can hear no other name but yours.<br />
+The thronging crowds press on you as you pass,<br />
+And with their eager joy make triumph slow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> My lord, I have no taste<br />
+Of popular applause; the noisy praise<br />
+Of giddy crowds, as changeable as winds;<br />
+Still vehement, and still without a cause;<br />
+Servant to chance, and blowing in the tide<br />
+Of swoln success; but veering with its ebb,<br />
+It leaves the channel dry.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> So young a stoick!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop<br />
+Within these veins for pageants; but, let honour<br />
+Call for my blood, and sluice it into streams:<br />
+Turn fortune loose again to my pursuit,<br />
+And let me hunt her through embattled foes,<br />
+In dusty plains, amidst the cannons' roar,<br />
+There will I be the first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I'll try him farther.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+<span class="pgnm">393</span><a id="page_393" name="page_393"></a>
+Suppose the assembled states of Arragon<br />
+Decree a statue to you, thus inscribed:<br />
+"To Torrismond, who freed his native land."</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To Ped.</span>]<br />
+Mark how he sounds and fathoms him,<br />
+To find the shallows of his soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> The just applause<br />
+Of god-like senates, is the stamp of virtue,<br />
+Which makes it pass unquestioned through the world.<br />
+These honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage<br />
+Be last to fix them on you. If refused,<br />
+You brand us all with black ingratitude:<br />
+For times to come shall say,&mdash;Our Spain, like Rome,<br />
+Neglects her champions after noble acts,<br />
+And lets their laurels wither on their heads.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> A statue, for a battle blindly fought,<br />
+Where darkness and surprise made conquest cheap!<br />
+Where virtue borrowed but the arms of chance,<br />
+And struck a random blow!&mdash;'Twas fortune's work,<br />
+And fortune take the praise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Yet happiness<br />
+Is the first fame. Virtue without success<br />
+Is a fair picture shewn by an ill light;<br />
+But lucky men are favourites of heaven:<br />
+And whom should kings esteem above heaven's darlings?<br />
+The praises of a young and beauteous queen<br />
+Shall crown your glorious acts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> [<span class="sdm">To Alph.</span>] There sprung the mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> The queen! that were a happiness too great!<br />
+Named you the queen, my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Yes: you have seen her, and you must confess,<br />
+A praise, a smile, a look from her is worth<br />
+The shouts of thousand amphitheatres.<br />
+She, she shall praise you, for I can oblige her:<br />
+To-morrow will deliver all her charms<br />
+<span class="pgnm">394</span><a id="page_394" name="page_394"></a>
+Into my arms, and make her mine for ever.&mdash;<br />
+Why stand you mute?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> Alas! I cannot speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Not speak, my lord! How were your thoughts employed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> Nor can I think, or I am lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Thought of the queen, perhaps?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> Why, if it were,<br />
+Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> O, now I find where your ambition drives!<br />
+You ought not to think of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> So I say too,<br />
+I ought not; madmen ought not to be mad;<br />
+But who can help his frenzy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Fond young man!<br />
+The wings of your ambition must be clipt:<br />
+Your shame-faced virtue shunned the people's praise,<br />
+And senate's honours: But 'tis well we know<br />
+What price you hold yourself at. You have fought<br />
+With some success, and that has sealed your pardon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> Pardon from thee!&mdash;O, give me patience, heaven!&mdash;<br />
+Thrice vanquished Bertran, if thou dar'st, look out<br />
+Upon yon slaughtered host, that field of blood;<br />
+There seal my pardon, where thy fame was lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> He's ruined, past redemption!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Torr.</span></span>] Learn respect<br />
+To the first prince of the blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> O, let him rave!<br />
+I'll not contend with madmen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Torr.</span> I have done:<br />
+I know, 'twas madness to declare this truth:<br />
+And yet, 'twere baseness to deny my love.<br />
+'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;<br />
+Lighter than children's bubbles blown by winds:<br />
+My merit's but the rash result of chance;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">395</span><a id="page_395" name="page_395"></a>
+My birth unequal; all the stars against me:<br />
+Power, promise, choice, the living and the dead;<br />
+Mankind my foes; and only love to friend:<br />
+But such a love, kept at such awful distance,<br />
+As, what it loudly dares to tell a rival,<br />
+Shall fear to whisper there. Queens may be loved,<br />
+And so may gods; else why are altars raised?<br />
+Why shines the sun, but that he may be viewed?<br />
+But, oh! when he's too bright, if then we gaze,<br />
+'Tis but to weep, and close our eyes in darkness.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> 'Tis well; the goddess shall be told, she shall,<br />
+Of her new worshipper.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> So, here's fine work!<br />
+He has supplied his only foe with arms<br />
+For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale<br />
+Inverted; he has unravelled all by day,<br />
+That he has done by night. What, planet struck!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> I wish I were; to be past sense of this!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Would I had but a lease of life so long,<br />
+As 'till my flesh and blood rebelled this way,<br />
+Against our sovereign lady;&mdash;mad for a queen?<br />
+With a globe in one hand, and a sceptre in t'other?<br />
+A very pretty moppet!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Then to declare his madness to his rival!<br />
+His father absent on an embassy;<br />
+Himself a stranger almost; wholly friendless!<br />
+A torrent, rolling down a precipice,<br />
+Is easier to be stopt, than is his ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> 'Tis fruitless to complain; haste to the court;<br />
+Improve your interest there for pardon from the queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Weak remedies;<br />
+But all must be attempted.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">396</span><a id="page_396" name="page_396"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have
+been ranging over half the town; but have sprung
+no game. Our women are worse infidels than the
+Moors: I told them I was one of the knight-errants,
+that delivered them from ravishment; and
+I think in my conscience, that is their quarrel to
+me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is
+run honourably mad in love with her majesty; he
+is split upon a rock, and you, who are in chase of
+harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think,
+the devil's in the family.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Solus.</span>] My cousin ruined, says he! hum,
+not that I wish my kinsman's ruin; that were unchristian:
+but, if the general is ruined, I am heir;
+there's comfort for a Christian! Money I have; I
+thank the honest Moors for it; but I want a mistress.
+I am willing to be lewd; but the tempter is
+wanting on his part.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Elvira,</span> veiled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Stranger! Cavalier!&mdash;will you not hear
+me? you Moor-killer, you Matador!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Meaning me, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Face about, man! you a soldier, and afraid
+of the enemy!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I must confess, I did not expect to have been
+charged first: I see souls will not be lost for want
+of diligence in this devil's reign. [<i>Aside.</i>] Now,
+Madam Cynthia, behind a cloud, your will and
+pleasure with me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> You have the appearance of a cavalier; and
+if you are as deserving as you seem, perhaps you
+may not repent of your adventure. If a lady like
+<span class="pgnm">397</span><a id="page_397" name="page_397"></a>
+you well enough to hold discourse with you at first
+sight; you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help
+her out with an apology, and to lay the blame on
+stars, or destiny, or what you please, to excuse the
+frailty of a woman?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> O, I love an easy woman! there's such ado,
+to crack a thick-shelled mistress; we break our
+teeth, and find no kernel. 'Tis generous in you, to
+take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to
+fall into ill hands at his first arrival.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> You may have a better opinion of me than I
+deserve; you have not seen me yet; and, therefore, I
+am confident you are heart-whole.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I
+am drawing on apace: you have a dangerous tongue
+in your head, I can tell you that; and if your eyes
+prove of as killing metal, there is but one way with
+me. Let me see you, for the safeguard of my honour;
+'tis but decent the cannon should be drawn
+down upon me before I yield.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> What a terrible similitude have you made,
+colonel, to shew that you are inclining to the wars?
+I could answer you with another in my profession:
+Suppose you were in want of money, would
+you not be glad to take a sum upon content in a
+sealed bag, without peeping?&mdash;but, however, I will
+not stand with you for a sample.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Lifts up her veil.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What eyes were there! how keen their
+glances! you do well to keep them veiled; they
+are too sharp to be trusted out of the scabbard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Perhaps now, you may accuse my forwardness;
+but this day of jubilee is the only time
+of freedom I have had; and there is nothing so extravagant
+as a prisoner, when he gets loose a little,
+and is immediately to return into his fetters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> To confess freely to you, madam, I was never
+in love with less than your whole sex before;
+but now I have seen you, I am in the direct road
+<span class="pgnm">398</span><a id="page_398" name="page_398"></a>
+of languishing and sighing; and, if love goes on as
+it begins, for aught I know, by to-morrow morning
+you may hear of me in rhyme and sonnet. I
+tell you truly, I do not like these symptoms in myself.
+Perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I
+was never before walked in trammels; yet, I shall
+drudge and moil at constancy, till I have worn off
+the hitching in my pace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Oh, sir, there are arts to reclaim the wildest
+men, as there are to make spaniels fetch and carry:
+chide them often, and feed them seldom. Now I
+know your temper, you may thank yourself, if you
+are kept to hard meat. You are in for years, if you
+make love to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I hate a formal obligation with an <i>Anno
+Domini</i> at end on't; there may be an evil meaning
+in the word years, called matrimony.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I can easily rid you of that fear: I wish
+I could rid myself as easily of the bondage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Then you are married?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> If a covetous, and a jealous, and an old man
+be a husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Three as good qualities for my purpose as I
+could wish: now love be praised!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Elvira's</span> Duenna, and whispers to her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] If I get not home before my husband,
+I shall be ruined. [<span class="sdm">To him.</span>] I dare not stay
+to tell you where. Farewell!&mdash;Could I once more&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> This is unconscionable dealing; to be made
+a slave, and know not whose livery I wear. Who
+have we yonder?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gomez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich
+<span class="pgnm">399</span><a id="page_399" name="page_399"></a>
+old banker, Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona: As
+I live 'tis he!&mdash;What, old Mammon here!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Gomez.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> How! young Beelzebub?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What devil has set his claws in thy haunches,
+and brought thee hither to Saragossa? Sure
+he meant a farther journey with thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I always remove before the enemy: When
+the Moors are ready to besiege one town, I shift
+quarters to the next; I keep as far from the infidels
+as I can.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> That's but a hair's breadth at farthest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Well, you have got a famous victory; all
+true subjects are overjoyed at it: There are bonfires
+decreed; an the times had not been hard, my
+billet should have burnt too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect
+for a single billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown
+on thyself to save it; thou art for saving every
+thing but thy soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Well, well, you'll not believe me generous,
+'till I carry you to the tavern, and crack half a pint
+with you at my own charges.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> No; I'll keep thee from hanging thyself
+for such an extravagance; and, instead of it, thou
+shalt do me a mere verbal courtesy. I have just
+now seen a most incomparable young lady.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable
+young lady?&mdash;My mind misgives me plaguily.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Here, man, just before this corner-house:
+Pray heaven, it prove no bawdy-house.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Pray heaven, he does not make it
+one!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What dost thou mutter to thyself? Hast
+thou any thing to say against the honesty of that
+house?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">400</span><a id="page_400" name="page_400"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Not I, colonel; the walls are very honest
+stone, and the timber very honest wood, for aught
+I know; but for the woman, I cannot say, till I
+know her better: Describe her person, and, if she
+live in this quarter, I may give you tidings of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> She is of a middle stature, dark-coloured hair,
+the most bewitching leer with her eyes, the most
+roguish cast! her cheeks are dimpled when she
+smiles, and her smiles would tempt an hermit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I am dead, I am buried, I am
+damned.&mdash;Go on, colonel; have you no other marks
+of her?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Thou hast all her marks; but she has a
+husband, a jealous, covetous, old hunks: Speak!
+canst thou tell me news of her?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Yes; this news, colonel, that you have
+seen your last of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If thou help'st me not to the knowledge of
+her, thou art a circumcised Jew.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Circumcise me no more than I circumcise
+you, colonel Hernando: Once more, you have seen
+your last of her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I am glad he knows me only by
+that name of Hernando, by which I went at Barcelona;
+now he can tell no tales of me to my father.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">To
+him.</span>] Come, thou wer't ever good-natured,
+when thou couldst get by it&mdash;Look here, rogue;
+'tis of the right damning colour: Thou art not
+proof against gold, sure!&mdash;Do not I know thee for
+a covetous&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Jealous old hunks? those were the marks
+of your mistress's husband, as I remember, colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Oh the devil! What a rogue in understanding
+was I, not to find him out sooner!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Do, do, look sillily, good colonel; 'tis a
+decent melancholy after an absolute defeat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Faith, not for that, clear Gomez; but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">401</span><a id="page_401" name="page_401"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gom.</span> But&mdash;no pumping, my dear colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Hang pumping! I was thinking a little upon
+a point of gratitude. We two have been long
+acquaintance; I know thy merits, and can make
+some interest;&mdash;Go to; thou wert born to authority;
+I'll make thee Alcaide, Mayor of Saragossa.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Satisfy yourself; you shall not make me
+what you think, colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Faith, but I will; thou hast the face of a
+magistrate already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And you would provide me with a magistrate's
+head to my magistrate's face; I thank you,
+colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle
+story! That woman I saw, I mean that little,
+crooked, ugly woman,&mdash;for t'other was a lie,&mdash;is
+no more thy wife,&mdash;As I'll go home with thee, and
+satisfy thee immediately, my dear friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I shall not put you to that trouble; no, not
+so much as a single visit; not so much as an embassy
+by a civil old woman, nor a serenade of <i>twinkledum
+twinkledum</i> under my windows; nay, I will
+advise you, out of my tenderness to your person,
+that you walk not near yon corner-house by night;
+for, to my certain knowledge, there are blunderbusses
+planted in every loop-hole, that go off constantly
+of their own accord, at the squeaking of a fiddle,
+and the thrumming of a guitar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce
+open war against thee; I'll demolish thy citadel by
+force; or, at least, I'll bring my whole regiment
+upon thee; my thousand red locusts, that shall devour
+thee in free quarters. Farewell, wrought night-cap.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Lorenzo.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Farewell, Buff. Free quarters for a regiment
+of red-coat locusts? I hope to see them all in the
+Red-Sea first! But oh, this Jezabel of mine! I'll
+<span class="pgnm">402</span><a id="page_402" name="page_402"></a>
+get a physician that shall prescribe her an ounce of
+camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
+incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not
+to church for confession; and, for never going, she
+shall be condemned for a heretic. She shall have
+stripes by Troy weight, and sustenance by drachms
+and scruples: Nay, I'll have a fasting almanack,
+printed on purpose for her use, in which<br />
+<span class="i1">No Carnival nor Christmas shall appear,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">But lents and ember-weeks shall fill the year.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>The Queen's Antechamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alphonso</span> and <span class="cnm">Pedro.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> When saw you my Lorenzo?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me,<br />
+Like a young hound upon a burning scent;<br />
+He's gone a harlot-hunting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> His foreign breeding might have taught him better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> 'Tis that has taught him this.<br />
+What learn our youth abroad, but to refine<br />
+The homely vices of their native land?<br />
+Give me an honest home-spun country clown<br />
+Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain,<br />
+But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools,<br />
+But come back fops.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> You know what reasons urged me;<br />
+But now, I have accomplished my designs,<br />
+I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots<br />
+Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close,<br />
+Did not the threatened downfal of our house,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">403</span><a id="page_403" name="page_403"></a>
+In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Bertran,</span> attended, and whispering
+with a Courtier, aside.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I would not have her think, he dared to love her;<br />
+If he presume to own it, she's so proud,<br />
+He tempts his certain ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Ped.</span></span>]
+Mark how disdainfully he throws his eyes on us.<br />
+Our old imprisoned king wore no such looks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> O! would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,<br />
+And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho,<br />
+I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his trumpets,<br />
+And Torrismond but whistle through his fingers,<br />
+He draws his army off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> I told him so;<br />
+But had an answer louder than a storm.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Now, plague and pox on his smock-loyalty!<br />
+I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted,<br />
+Made sour and senseless, turned to whey by love;<br />
+A drivelling hero, fit for a romance.&mdash;<br />
+O, here he comes! what will their greetings be?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond,</span> attended; <span class="cnm">Bertran</span> and he
+meet and jostle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Make way, my lords, and let the pageant pass.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I make my way, where'er I see my foe;<br />
+But you, my lord, are good at a retreat.<br />
+I have no Moors behind me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Death and hell!<br />
+Dare to speak thus when you come out again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">404</span><a id="page_404" name="page_404"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> My lords, you are too loud so near the queen;<br />
+You, Torrismond, have much offended her.<br />
+'Tis her command you instantly appear,<br />
+To answer your demeanour to the prince.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Teresa; Bertran,</span> with his company,
+follow her.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O, Pedro, O, Alphonso, pity me!<br />
+A grove of pikes,<br />
+Whose polished steel from far severely shines,<br />
+Are not so dreadful as this beauteous queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Call up your courage timely to your aid,<br />
+And, like a lion, pressed upon the toils,<br />
+Leap on your hunters. Speak your actions boldly;<br />
+There is a time when modest virtue is<br />
+Allowed to praise itself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Heart! you were hot enough, too hot, but now;<br />
+Your fury then boiled upward to a foam;<br />
+But since this message came, you sink and settle,<br />
+As if cold water had been poured upon you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Alas! thou know'st not what it is to love!<br />
+When we behold an angel, not to fear,<br />
+Is to be impudent: No, I am resolved,<br />
+Like a led victim, to my death I'll go,<br />
+And, dying, bless the hand, that gave the blow.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Scene</span> draws, and shews the Queen sitting in
+state; <span class="cnm">Bertran</span> standing next to her; then <span class="cnm">Teresa,</span>
+&amp;c. She rises, and comes to the front.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leonora.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Bert.</span></span>]<br />
+I blame not you, my lord; my father's will,<br />
+Your own deserts, and all my people's voice,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">405</span><a id="page_405" name="page_405"></a>
+Have placed you in the view of sovereign power.<br />
+But I would learn the cause, why Torrismond,<br />
+Within my palace-walls, within my hearing,<br />
+Almost within my sight,&mdash;affronts a prince,<br />
+Who shortly shall command him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> He thinks you owe him more than you can pay;<br />
+And looks as he were lord of human kind.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond, Alphonso, Pedro. Torrismond</span>
+bows low, then looks earnestly on the Queen,
+and keeps at Distance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Teresa.</span> Madam, the general.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Let me view him well.<br />
+My father sent him early to the frontiers;<br />
+I have not often seen him; if I did,<br />
+He passed unmarked by my unheeding eyes:&mdash;<br />
+But where's the fierceness, the disdainful pride,<br />
+The haughty port, the fiery arrogance?&mdash;<br />
+By all these marks, this is not, sure, the man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Yet this is he, who filled your court with tumult,<br />
+Whose fierce demeanour, and whose insolence,<br />
+The patience of a god could not support.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Name his offence, my lord, and he shall have<br />
+Immediate punishment.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> 'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it,<br />
+That my presumption then would equal his.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Some one among you speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Now my tongue itches.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> All dumb! On your allegiance, Torrismond,<br />
+By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>]<br />
+O seek not to convince me of a crime,<br />
+Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon;<br />
+Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,<br />
+That he who, thus commanded, dares to speak,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">406</span><a id="page_406" name="page_406"></a>
+Unless commanded, would have died in silence.<br />
+But you adjured me, madam, by my hopes!<br />
+Hopes I have none, for I am all despair;<br />
+Friends I have none, for friendship follows favour;<br />
+Desert I've none, for what I did was duty:&mdash;<br />
+Oh that it were!&mdash;that it were duty all!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Why do you pause? proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> As one, condemned to leap a precipice,<br />
+Who sees before his eyes the depth below,<br />
+Stops short, and looks about for some kind shrub<br />
+To break his dreadful fall.&mdash;so I&mdash;<br />
+But whither am I going? If to death,<br />
+He looks so lovely sweet in beauty's pomp,<br />
+He draws me to his dart.&mdash;I dare no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> He's mad, beyond the cure of hellebore.<br />
+Whips, darkness, dungeons, for this insolence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Mad as I am, yet I know when to bear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> You're both too bold.&mdash;You, Torrismond, withdraw,<br />
+I'll teach you all what's owing to your queen.&mdash;<br />
+For you, my lord,&mdash;<br />
+The priest to-morrow was to join our hands;<br />
+I'll try if I can live a day without you.&mdash;<br />
+So both of you depart, and live in peace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Who knows which way she points?<br />
+Doubling and turning like an hunted hare;&mdash;<br />
+Find out the meaning of her mind who can.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Pedr.</span> Who ever found a woman's? backward and forward,<br />
+The whole sex in every word. In my conscience,
+when she was getting, her mother was thinking of
+a riddle.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but the Queen and <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Haste, my Teresa, haste, and call him back.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Whom, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Prince Bertran?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">407</span><a id="page_407" name="page_407"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Torrismond;<br />
+There is no other he.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] A rising sun,<br />
+Or I am much deceived.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> A change so swift what heart did ever feel!<br />
+It rushed upon me like a mighty stream,<br />
+And bore me, in a moment, far from shore.<br />
+I loved away myself; in one short hour<br />
+Already am I gone an age of passion.<br />
+Was it his youth, his valour, or success?<br />
+These might, perhaps, be found in other men:<br />
+'Twas that respect, that awful homage, paid me;<br />
+That fearful love, which trembled in his eyes,<br />
+And with a silent earthquake shook his soul.<br />
+But, when he spoke, what tender words he said!<br />
+So softly, that, like flakes of feathered snow,<br />
+They melted as they fell.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Teresa</span> with <span class="cnm">Torrismond.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> He waits your pleasure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> 'Tis well; retire.&mdash;Oh heavens, that I must speak<br />
+So distant from my heart!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Tor.</span></span>] How now! What boldness brings you back again?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I heard 'twas your command.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> A fond mistake,<br />
+To credit so unlikely a command;<br />
+And you return, full of the same presumption,<br />
+To affront me with your love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> If 'tis presumption, for a wretch condemned,<br />
+To throw himself beneath his judge's feet:<br />
+A boldness more than this I never knew;<br />
+Or, if I did, 'twas only to your foes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> You would insinuate your past services,<br />
+And those, I grant, were great; but you confess<br />
+A fault committed since, that cancels all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">408</span><a id="page_408" name="page_408"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tor.</span> And who could dare to disavow his crime,<br />
+When that, for which he is accused and seized,<br />
+He bears about him still! My eyes confess it;<br />
+My every action speaks my heart aloud:<br />
+But, oh, the madness of my high attempt<br />
+Speaks louder yet! and all together cry,&mdash;<br />
+I love and I despair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Have you not heard,<br />
+My father, with his dying voice, bequeathed<br />
+My crown and me to Bertran? And dare you,<br />
+A private man, presume to love a queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> That, that's the wound! I see you set so high,<br />
+As no desert or services can reach.&mdash;<br />
+Good heavens, why gave you me a monarch's soul,<br />
+And crusted it with base plebeian clay?<br />
+Why gave you me desires of such extent,<br />
+And such a span to grasp them? Sure, my lot<br />
+By some o'er-hasty angel was misplaced<br />
+In fate's eternal volume!&mdash;But I rave,<br />
+And, like a giddy bird in dead of night,<br />
+Fly round the fire that scorches me to death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Yet, Torrismond, you've not so ill deserved,<br />
+But I may give you counsel for your cure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cured.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Nor I, heaven knows!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> There is a pleasure, sure,<br />
+In being mad, which none but madmen know!<br />
+Let me indulge it; let me gaze for ever!<br />
+And, since you are too great to be beloved,<br />
+Be greater, greater yet, and be adored.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> These are the words which I must only hear<br />
+From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you:<br />
+I say they should; but women are so vain,<br />
+To like the love, though they despise the lover.<br />
+Yet, that I may not send you from my sight<br />
+In absolute despair,&mdash;I pity you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">409</span><a id="page_409" name="page_409"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Am I then pitied! I have lived enough!&mdash;<br />
+Death, take me in this moment of my joy;<br />
+But, when my soul is plunged in long oblivion,<br />
+Spare this one thought! let me remember pity,<br />
+And, so deceived, think all my life was blessed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> What if I add a little to my alms?<br />
+If that would help, I could cast in a tear<br />
+To your misfortunes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> A tear! You have o'erbid all my past sufferings,<br />
+And all my future too!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Were I no queen&mdash;<br />
+Or you of royal blood&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> What have I lost by my forefathers' fault!<br />
+Why was not I the twentieth by descent<br />
+From a long restive race of droning kings?<br />
+Love! what a poor omnipotence hast thou,<br />
+When gold and titles buy thee?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Sighs.</span>] Oh, my torture!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Might I presume,&mdash;but, oh, I dare not hope<br />
+That sigh was added to your alms for me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I give you leave to guess, and not forbid you<br />
+To make the best construction for your love:<br />
+Be secret and discreet; these fairy favours<br />
+Are lost, when not concealed<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_4-1">[1]</a>.&mdash;provoke not Bertran.&mdash;<br />
+Retire: I must no more but this,&mdash;Hope, Torrismond.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> She bids me hope; oh heavens, she pities me!<br />
+And pity still foreruns approaching love,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">410</span><a id="page_410" name="page_410"></a>
+As lightning does the thunder! Tune your harps,<br />
+Ye angels, to that sound; and thou, my heart,<br />
+Make room to entertain thy flowing joy.<br />
+Hence, all my griefs and every anxious care;<br />
+One word, and one kind glance, can cure despair.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>A Chamber. A Table and Wine set out.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> This may hit; 'tis more than barely possible;
+for friars have free admittance into every
+house. This jacobin, whom I have sent to, is her
+confessor; and who can suspect a man of such reverence
+for a pimp? I'll try for once; I'll bribe him
+high; for commonly none love money better than
+they, who have made a vow of poverty.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Servant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> There's a huge, fat, religious gentleman
+coming up, sir. He says he's but a friar, but he's big
+enough to be a pope; his gills are as rosy as a turkey
+cock's; his great belly walks in state before
+him, like an harbinger; and his gouty legs come
+limping after it: Never was such a ton of devotion
+seen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Bring him in, and vanish.<span class="sdr">[Exit Servant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Father <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Welcome, father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Peace be here: I thought I had been sent
+for to a dying man; to have fitted him for another
+world.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> No, faith, father, I was never for taking
+such long journeys. Repose yourself, I beseech you,
+<span class="pgnm">411</span><a id="page_411" name="page_411"></a>
+sir, if those spindle legs of yours will carry you to
+the next chair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I am old, I am infirm, I must confess, with
+fasting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> 'Tis a sign by your wan complexion, and
+your thin jowls, father. Come, to our better acquaintance:&mdash;here's
+a sovereign remedy for old age
+and sorrow.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Drinks.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> The looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do
+you reason.<span class="sdr">[Drinks.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Is it to your palate, father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll
+consider of it once again. [<span class="sdm">Drinks.</span>] It has a most
+delicious flavour with it. Gad forgive me, I have
+forgotten to drink your health, Son, I am not used
+to be so unmannerly.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Drinks again.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> No, I'll be sworn, by what I see of you, you
+are not:&mdash;To the bottom;&mdash;I warrant him a true
+church-man.&mdash;Now, father, to our business: 'tis
+agreeable to your calling; I do intend to do an act
+of charity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> And I love to hear of charity; 'tis a comfortable
+subject.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Being in the late battle, in great hazard of
+my life, I recommended my person to good Saint
+Dominick.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> You could not have pitched upon a better;
+he's a sure card; I never knew him fail his votaries.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Troth, I also made bold to strike up a bargain
+with him, that, if I escaped with life and plunder,
+I would present some brother of his order with
+part of the booty taken from the infidels, to be employed
+in charitable uses.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> There you hit him; Saint Dominick loves
+<span class="pgnm">412</span><a id="page_412" name="page_412"></a>
+charity exceedingly; that argument never fails with
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> The spoils were mighty; and I scorn to
+wrong him of a farthing. To make short my story;
+I inquired among the jacobins for an almoner,
+and the general fame has pointed out your reverence
+as the worthiest man:&mdash;here are fifty good
+pieces in this purse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> How, fifty pieces? 'tis too much, too much
+in conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Here, take them, father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> No, in troth, I dare not; do not tempt me
+to break my vow of poverty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If you are modest, I must force you; for I
+am strongest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending;
+but, will you set your strength against a decrepit,
+poor, old man? [<span class="sdm">Takes the Purse.</span>] As I said,
+'tis too great a bounty; but Saint Dominick shall
+owe you another scape: I'll put him in mind of you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If you please, father, we will not trouble
+him 'till the next battle. But you may do me a
+greater kindness, by conveying my prayers to a female
+saint.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> A female saint! good now, good now, how
+your devotions jump with mine! I always loved the
+female saints.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I mean, a female, mortal, married-woman-saint:
+Look upon the superscription of this note;
+you know Don Gomez's wife.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Gives him a Letter.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Who? Donna Elvira? I think I have some
+reason; I am her ghostly father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I have some business of importance with her,
+which I have communicated in this paper; but her
+husband is so horribly given to be jealous,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Ho, jealous? he's the very quintessence of
+<span class="pgnm">413</span><a id="page_413" name="page_413"></a>
+jealousy; he keeps no male creature in his house;
+and from abroad he lets no man come near her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Excepting you, father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Me, I grant you; I am her director and
+her guide in spiritual affairs: But he has his humours
+with me too; for t'other day he called me
+false apostle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Did he so? that reflects upon you all; on
+my word, father, that touches your copy-hold. If
+you would do a meritorious action, you might revenge
+the church's quarrel.&mdash;My letter, father,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Well, so far as a letter, I will take upon
+me; for what can I refuse to a man so charitably
+given?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If you bring an answer back, that purse in
+your hand has a twin-brother, as like him as ever
+he can look; there are fifty pieces lie dormant in it,
+for more charities.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> That must not be; not a farthing more,
+upon my priesthood.&mdash;But what may be the purport
+and meaning of this letter? that, I confess, a
+little troubles me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> No harm, I warrant you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll
+take your word: my comfort is, I know not the
+contents; and so far I am blameless. But an answer
+you shall have; though not for the sake of
+your fifty pieces more: I have sworn not to take
+them; they shall not be altogether fifty. Your
+mistress&mdash;forgive me, that I should call her your
+mistress, I meant Elvira,&mdash;lives but at next door:
+I'll visit her immediately; but not a word more of
+the nine-and-forty pieces.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Nay, I'll wait on you down stairs.&mdash;Fifty
+pounds for the postage of a letter! to send by the
+church is certainly the dearest road in Christendom.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span><br /></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">414</span><a id="page_414" name="page_414"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.&mdash;<i>A Chamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gomez</span> and <span class="cnm">Elvira.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Henceforth I banish flesh and wine: I'll
+have none stirring within these walls these twelve
+months.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I care not; the sooner I am starved, the
+sooner I am rid of wedlock. I shall learn the knack
+to fast o' days; you have used me to fasting nights
+already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> How the gipsey answers me! Oh, 'tis a
+most notorious hilding.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Crying.</span>] But was ever poor innocent creature
+so hardly dealt with, for a little harmless chat?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Oh, the impudence of this wicked sex!
+Lascivious dialogues are innocent with you!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Was it such a crime to inquire how the
+battle passed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> But that was not the business, gentlewoman:
+you were not asking news of a battle passed;
+you were engaging for a skirmish that was to come.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> An honest woman would be glad to hear,
+that her honour was safe, and her enemies were
+slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> [<span class="sdm">In her tone.</span>] And to ask, if he were wounded
+in your defence; and, in case he were, to offer
+yourself to be his chirurgeon;&mdash;then, you did not
+describe your husband to him, for a covetous, jealous,
+rich, old hunks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> No, I need not; he describes himself sufficiently:
+but, in what dream did I do this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> You walked in your sleep, with your eyes
+broad open, at noon-day; and dreamt you were
+talking to the foresaid purpose with one Colonel
+Hernando&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">415</span><a id="page_415" name="page_415"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Who, dear husband, who?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> What the devil have I said?&mdash;You would
+have farther information, would you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> No; but my dear, little, old man, tell me
+now, that I may avoid him for your sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Get you up into your chamber, cockatrice;
+and there immure yourself; be confined, I say, during
+our royal pleasure. But, first, down on your
+marrowbones, upon your allegiance, and make an
+acknowledgement of your offences; for I will have
+ample satisfaction.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Pulls her down.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I have done you no injury, and therefore
+I'll make you no submission: but I'll complain to
+my ghostly father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, there's your remedy; when you receive
+condign punishment, you run with open mouth to
+your confessor; that parcel of holy guts and garbadge:
+he must chuckle you and moan you; but
+I'll rid my hands of his ghostly authority one day,
+[<span class="sdm">Enter <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></span>] and make him know he's the
+son of a&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Sees him.</span>] So;&mdash;no sooner conjure,
+but the devil's in the circle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Son of a what, Don Gomez?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, a son of a church; I hope there's no
+harm in that, father?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I will lay up your words for you, till time
+shall serve; and to-morrow I enjoin you to fast, for
+penance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> There's no harm in that; she shall fast too:
+fasting saves money.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Elvira.</span></span>] What was the reason that I
+found you upon your knees, in that unseemly posture?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> O horrible! to find a woman upon her
+knees, he says, is an unseemly posture; there's a
+priest for you!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">416</span><a id="page_416" name="page_416"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Elv.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Dom.</span></span>] I wish, father, you would give
+me an opportunity of entertaining you in private:
+I have somewhat upon my spirits that presses me
+exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> This goes well: [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Gomez, stand you
+at a distance,&mdash;farther yet,&mdash;stand out of ear shot;&mdash;I
+have somewhat to say to your wife in private.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Was ever man thus priest-ridden? would
+the steeple of his church were in his belly: I am
+sure there's room for it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I am ashamed to acknowledge my infirmities;
+but you have been always an indulgent father,
+and therefore I will venture to&mdash;and yet I dare
+not!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Nay, if you are bashful;&mdash;if you keep your
+wound from the knowledge of your surgeon,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> You know my husband is a man in years;
+but he's my husband, and therefore I shall be silent;
+but his humours are more intolerable than his
+age: he's grown so froward, so covetous, and so jealous,
+that he has turned my heart quite from him;
+and, if I durst confess it, has forced me to cast my
+affections on another man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Good:&mdash;hold, hold; I meant abominable.&mdash;Pray
+heaven this may be my colonel!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I have seen this man, father, and have encouraged
+his addresses; he's a young gentleman, a
+soldier, of a most winning carriage: and what his
+courtship may produce at last, I know not; but I
+am afraid of my own frailty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> 'Tis he, for certain;&mdash;she has saved the credit
+of my function, by speaking first; now must I
+take gravity upon me.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> This whispering bodes me no good, for certain;
+but he has me so plaguily under the lash, that
+I dare not interrupt him.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">417</span><a id="page_417" name="page_417"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Daughter, daughter, do you remember your
+matrimonial vow?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Yes, to my sorrow, father, I do remember
+it; a miserable woman it has made me: but you
+know, father, a marriage-vow is but a thing of
+course, which all women take when they would get
+a husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> A vow is a very solemn thing; and 'tis
+good to keep it: but, notwithstanding, it may be
+broken upon some occasions. Have you striven
+with all your might against this frailty?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Yes, I have striven; but I found it was
+against the stream. Love, you know, father, is a
+great vow-maker; but he's a greater vow-breaker.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> 'Tis your duty to strive always; but, notwithstanding,
+when we have done our utmost, it
+extenuates the sin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I can hold no longer.&mdash;Now, gentlewoman,
+you are confessing your enormities; I know
+it, by that hypocritical downcast look:&mdash;enjoin her
+to sit bare upon a bed of nettles, father; you can
+do no less, in conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Hold your peace; are you growing malapert?
+will you force me to make use of my authority?
+your wife's a well disposed and a virtuous lady;
+I say it, <i>In verbo sacerdotis.</i></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I know not what to do, father; I find myself
+in a most desperate condition; and so is the
+colonel, for love of me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> The colonel, say you! I wish it be not the
+same young gentleman I know. 'Tis a gallant
+young man, I must confess, worthy of any lady's
+love in Christendom,&mdash;in a lawful way, I mean: of
+such a charming behaviour, so bewitching to a woman's
+eye, and, furthermore, so charitably given;
+by all good tokens, this must be my colonel Hernando.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">418</span><a id="page_418" name="page_418"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Ay, and my colonel too, father:&mdash;I am overjoyed!&mdash;and
+are you then acquainted with him?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Acquainted with him! why, he haunts me
+up and down; and, I am afraid, it is for love of
+you; for he pressed a letter upon me, within this
+hour, to deliver to you. I confess I received it,
+lest he should send it by some other; but with full
+resolution never to put it into your hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Oh, dear father, let me have it, or I shall
+die!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Whispering still! A pox of your close committee!
+I'll listen, I'm resolved.<span class="sdr">[Steals nearer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Nay, if you are obstinately bent to see it,
+use your discretion; but, for my part, I wash my
+hands of it.&mdash;What makes you listening there?
+get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked
+eaves dropper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I'll kneel down, father, as if I were taking
+absolution, if you'll but please to stand before me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> At your peril be it then. I have told you
+the ill consequences; <i>et liberavi animam meam.</i>
+Your reputation is in danger, to say nothing of your
+soul. Notwithstanding, when the spiritual means
+have been applied, and fail, in that case the carnal
+may be used. You are a tender child, you are, and
+must not be put into despair; your heart is as soft
+and melting as your hand.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[He strokes her face, takes her by the hand, and
+gives the letter.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Hold, hold, father, you go beyond your commission;
+palming is always held foul play amongst
+gamesters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Thus good intentions are misconstrued by
+wicked men; you will never be warned till you are
+excommunicated.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ah, devil on him; there's his hold! If
+there were no more in excommunication than the
+<span class="pgnm">419</span><a id="page_419" name="page_419"></a>
+church's censure, a wise man would lick his conscience
+whole with a wet finger; but, if I am excommunicated,
+I am outlawed, and then there is
+no calling in my money.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> [<span class="sdm">Rising.</span>] I have read the note, father, and
+will send him an answer immediately; for I know
+his lodgings by his letter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I understand it not, for my part; but I
+wish your intentions be honest. Remember, that
+adultery, though it be a silent sin, yet it is a crying
+sin also. Nevertheless, if you believe absolutely he
+will die, unless you pity him; to save a man's life
+is a point of charity; and actions of charity do alleviate,
+as I may say, and take off from the mortality
+of the sin. Farewell, daughter.&mdash;Gomez, cherish
+your virtuous wife; and thereupon I give you
+my benediction.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Stay; I'll conduct you to the door,&mdash;that
+I may be sure you steal nothing by the way.
+Friars wear not their long sleeves for nothing.&mdash;Oh,
+'tis a Judas Iscariot.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit after the Friar.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> This friar is a comfortable man! He will understand
+nothing of the business, and yet does it
+all.<br />
+<span class="i1">Pray, wives and virgins, at your time of need,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">For a true guide, of my good father's breed.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>The Street.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> in a Friars Habit, meeting <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Father Dominick, father Dominick; why in
+such haste, man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">420</span><a id="page_420" name="page_420"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dom.</span> It should seem, a brother of our order.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> No, faith, I am only your brother in iniquity;
+my holiness, like yours, is mere outside.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> What! my noble colonel in metamorphosis!
+On what occasion are you transformed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Love, almighty love; that, which turned Jupiter
+into a town-bull, has transformed me into a
+friar. I have had a letter from Elvira, in answer to
+that I sent by you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> You see I have delivered my message faithfully;
+I am a friar of honour, where I am engaged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> O, I understand your hint; the other fifty
+pieces are ready to be condemned to charity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> But this habit, son! this habit!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> It is a habit, that, in all ages, has been
+friendly to fornication: you have begun the design
+in this clothing, and I'll try to accomplish it.
+The husband is absent, that evil counsellor is removed
+and the sovereign is graciously disposed to hear
+my grievances.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Go to, go to; I find good counsel is but
+thrown away upon you. Fare you well, fare you
+well, son! Ah&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> How! will you turn recreant at the last
+cast? You must along to countenance my undertaking:
+we are at the door, man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Well, I have thought on't, and I will not
+go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> You may stay, father, but no fifty pounds
+without it; that was only promised in the bond:
+"But the condition of this obligation is such, that
+if the above-named father, father Dominick, do
+not well and faithfully perform&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Now I better think on't, I will bear you
+company; for the reverence of my presence may be
+a curb to your exorbitancies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Lead up your myrmidons, and enter.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">421</span><a id="page_421" name="page_421"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<span class="cnm">Elvira's</span> <i>Chamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Elvira.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> He'll come, that's certain; young appetites
+are sharp, and seldom need twice bidding to such a
+banquet. Well, if I prove frail,&mdash;as I hope I shall
+not till I have compassed my design,&mdash;never woman
+had such a husband to provoke her, such a lover to
+allure her, or such a confessor to absolve her. Of
+what am I afraid, then? not my conscience, that's
+safe enough; my ghostly father has given it a dose
+of church-opium, to lull it. Well, for soothing sin,
+I'll say that for him, he's a chaplain for any court
+in Christendom.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> and <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">O, father Dominick, what news?&mdash;How, a companion
+with you! What game have you in hand, that
+you hunt in couples?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Lifting up his Hood.</span>] I'll shew you that
+immediately.</p>
+<p class="dlg">
+<span class="cnm">Elv.</span> O, my love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> My life!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> My soul!<span class="sdr">[They embrace.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I am taken on the sudden with a grievous
+swimming in my head, and such a mist before my
+eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Stay, and I'll fetch you some comfortable
+water.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> No, no; nothing but the open air will do
+me good. I'll take a turn in your garden; but remember
+that I trust you both, and do not wrong
+my good opinion of you.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> This is certainly the dust of gold which you
+have thrown in the good man's eyes, that on the
+<span class="pgnm">422</span><a id="page_422" name="page_422"></a>
+sudden he cannot see; for my mind misgives me,
+this sickness of his is but apocryphal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> 'Tis no qualm of conscience, I'll be sworn.
+You see, madam, it is interest governs all the
+world. He preaches against sin; why? because he
+gets by it: He holds his tongue; why? because so
+much more is bidden for his silence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> And so much for the friar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Oh, those eyes of yours reproach me justly,
+that I neglect the subject which brought me hither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Do you consider the hazard I have run to
+see you here? if you do, methinks it should inform
+you, that I love not at a common rate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Nay, if you talk of considering, let us consider
+why we are alone. Do you think the friar
+left us together to tell beads? Love is a kind of penurious
+god, very niggardly of his opportunities:
+he must be watched like a hard-hearted treasurer;
+for he bolts out on the sudden, and, if you take him
+not in the nick, he vanishes in a twinkling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Why do you make such haste to have done
+loving me? You men are all like watches, wound
+up for striking twelve immediately; but after you
+are satisfied, the very next that follows, is the solitary
+sound of a single&mdash;one!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> How, madam! do you invite me to a feast,
+and then preach abstinence?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> No, I invite you to a feast where the dishes
+are served up in order: you are for making a hasty
+meal, and for chopping up your entertainment, like
+a hungry clown. Trust my management, good colonel,
+and call not for your desert too soon: believe
+me, that which comes last, as it is the sweetest,
+so it cloys the soonest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I perceive, madam, by your holding me at
+this distance, that there is somewhat you expect
+<span class="pgnm">423</span><a id="page_423" name="page_423"></a>
+from me: what am I to undertake, or suffer, ere I
+can be happy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I must first be satisfied, that you love me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> By all that's holy! by these dear eyes!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Spare your oaths and protestations; I know
+you gallants of the time have a mint at your tongue's
+end to coin them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> You know you cannot marry me; but, by
+heavens, if you were in a condition&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Then you would not be so prodigal of your
+promises, but have the fear of matrimony before
+your eyes. In few words, if you love me, as you
+profess, deliver me from this bondage, take me out
+of Egypt, and I'll wander with you as far as earth,
+and seas, and love, can carry us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I never was out at a mad frolic, though this
+is the maddest I ever undertook. Have with you,
+lady mine; I take you at your word; and if you
+are for a merry jaunt, I'll try for once who can foot
+it farthest. There are hedges in summer, and barns
+in winter, to be found; I with my knapsack, and
+you with your bottle at your back: we will leave
+honour to madmen, and riches to knaves; and travel
+till we come to' the ridge of the world, and then
+drop together into the next.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Give me your hand, and strike a bargain.
+<span class="sdr">[He takes her hand, and kisses it.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> In sign and token whereof, the parties interchangeably,
+and so forth.&mdash;When should I be
+weary of sealing upon this soft wax?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> O heavens! I hear my husband's voice.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gomez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Where are you, gentlewoman? there's something
+in the wind, I'm sure, because your woman
+would have run up stairs before me; but I have secured
+her below, with a gag in her chaps.&mdash;Now,
+<span class="pgnm">424</span><a id="page_424" name="page_424"></a>
+in the devil's name, what makes this friar here
+again? I do not like these frequent conjunctions of
+the flesh and spirit; they are boding.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Go hence, good father; my husband, you
+see, is in an ill humour, and I would not have you
+witness of his folly.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> going.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Running to the door.</span>] By your reverence's
+favour, hold a little; I must examine you something
+better, before you go.&mdash;Heyday! who have
+we here? Father Dominick is shrunk in the wetting
+two yards and a half about the belly. What
+are become of those two timber logs, that he used
+to wear for legs, that stood strutting like the two
+black posts before a door? I am afraid some bad
+body has been setting him over a fire in a great
+cauldron, and boiled him down half the quantity,
+for a recipe. This is no father Dominick, no huge
+overgrown abbey-lubber; this is but a diminutive
+sucking friar. As sure as a gun, now, father Dominick
+has been spawning this young slender anti-christ.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> He will be found, there's no prevention.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why does he not speak? What! is the
+friar possessed with a dumb devil? if he be, I shall
+make bold to conjure him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> He is but a novice in his order, and is enjoined
+silence for a penance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> A novice, quotha! you would make a novice
+of me, too, if you could. But what was his business
+here? answer me that, gentlewoman, answer
+me that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> What should it be, but to give me some spiritual
+instructions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Very good; and you are like to edify much
+from a dumb preacher. This will not pass, I must
+examine the contents of him a little closer.&mdash;O thou
+<span class="pgnm">425</span><a id="page_425" name="page_425"></a>
+confessor, confess who thou art, or thou art no friar
+of this world!&mdash;[<span class="sdm">He comes to <span class="cnm">Lorenzo,</span> who struggles
+with him; his Habit flies open, and discovers a
+Sword; <span class="cnm">Gomez</span> starts back.</span>]&mdash;As I live, this is a
+manifest member of the church militant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] I am discovered; now, impudence
+be my refuge.&mdash;Yes, faith, 'tis I, honest Gomez;
+thou seest I use thee like a friend; this is a familiar
+visit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> What! colonel Hernando turned a friar!
+who could have suspected you of so much godliness?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Even as thou seest, I make bold here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> A very frank manner of proceeding; but I
+do not wonder at your visit, after so friendly an invitation
+as I made you. Marry, I hope you will
+excuse the blunderbusses for not being in readiness
+to salute you; but let me know your hour, and all
+shall be mended another time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Hang it, I hate such ripping up of old unkindness:
+I was upon the frolic this evening, and
+came to visit thee in masquerade.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Very likely; and not finding me at home,
+you were forced to toy away an hour with my wife,
+or so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Right; thou speak'st my very soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, am not I a friend, then, to help thee
+out? you would have been fumbling half an hour
+for this excuse. But, as I remember, you promised
+to storm my citadel, and bring your regiment of red
+locusts upon me for free quarters: I find, colonel, by
+your habit, there are black locusts in the world, as
+well as red.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> When comes my share of the reckoning to
+be called for?<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Give me thy hand; thou art the honestest,
+<span class="pgnm">426</span><a id="page_426" name="page_426"></a>
+kind man!&mdash;I was resolved I would not out of thy
+house till I had seen thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> No, in my conscience, if I had staid abroad
+till midnight. But, colonel, you and I shall talk in
+another tone hereafter; I mean, in cold friendship,
+at a bar before a judge, by the way of plaintiff and
+defendant. Your excuses want some grains to make
+them current: Hum, and ha, will not do the business.&mdash;There's
+a modest lady of your acquaintance,
+she has so much grace to make none at all, but silently
+to confess the power of dame Nature working
+in her body to youthful appetite.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> How he got in I know not, unless it were
+by virtue of his habit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, ay, the virtues of that habit are known
+abundantly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I could not hinder his entrance, for he took
+me unprovided.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> To resist him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter
+of an hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And a quarter of that time would have
+served the turn. O thou epitome of thy virtuous
+sex! Madam Messalina the second, retire to thy
+apartment: I have an assignation there to make
+with thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I am all obedience.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Elvira.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought
+you. We may meet before we come to the bar, we
+may; and our differences may be decided by other
+weapons than by lawyers' tongues. In the mean
+time, no ill treatment of your wife, as you hope to
+die a natural death, and go to hell in your bed.
+Bilbo is the word, remember that and tremble.&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[He's going out.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">427</span><a id="page_427" name="page_427"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Dominick.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Where is this naughty couple? where are
+you, in the name of goodness? My mind misgave
+me, and I durst trust you no longer with yourselves:
+Here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your
+next confession.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] The devil is punctual, I see; he
+has paid me the shame he owed me; and now the
+friar is coming in for his part too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Seeing <span class="cnm">Gom.</span></span>] Bless my eyes! what do I
+see?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, you see a cuckold of this honest
+gentleman's making; I thank him for his pains.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I confess, I am astonished!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> What, at a cuckoldom of your own contrivance!
+your head-piece, and his limbs, have done my
+business. Nay, do not look so strangely; remember
+your own words,&mdash;Here will be fine work at your
+next confession. What naughty couple were they
+whom you durst not trust together any longer?&mdash;when
+the hypocritical rogue had trusted them a
+full quarter of an hour;&mdash;and, by the way, horns
+will sprout in less time than mushrooms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Beware how you accuse one of my order
+upon light suspicions. The naughty couple, that
+I meant, were your wife and you, whom I left together
+with great animosities on both sides. Now,
+that was the occasion,&mdash;mark me, Gomez,&mdash;that I
+thought it convenient to return again, and not to
+trust your enraged spirits too long together. You
+might have broken out into revilings and matrimonial
+warfare, which are sins; and new sins make
+work for new confessions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Well said, i'faith, friar; thou art come off
+thyself, but poor I am left in limbo.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">428</span><a id="page_428" name="page_428"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Angle in some other ford, good father, you
+shall catch no gudgeons here. Look upon the prisoner
+at the bar, friar, and inform the court what
+you know concerning him; he is arraigned here by
+the name of colonel Hernando.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> What colonel do you mean, Gomez? I see
+no man but a reverend brother of our order, whose
+profession I honour, but whose person I know not,
+as I hope for paradise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> No, you are not acquainted with him, the
+more's the pity; you do not know him, under this
+disguise, for the greatest cuckold-maker in all Spain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> O impudence! O rogue! O villain! Nay,
+if he be such a man, my righteous spirit rises at
+him! Does he put on holy garments, for a cover-shame
+of lewdness?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Yes, and he's in the right on't, father:
+when a swinging sin is to be committed, nothing
+will cover it so close as a friar's hood; for there the
+devil plays at bo-peep,&mdash;puts out his horns to do a
+mischief, and then shrinks them back for safety,
+like a snail into her shell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> It's best marching off, while I can retreat
+with honour. There's no trusting this friar's conscience;
+he has renounced me already more heartily
+than e'er he did the devil, and is in a fair way
+to prosecute me for putting on these holy robes.
+This is the old church-trick; the clergy is ever at
+the bottom of the plot, but they are wise enough
+to slip their own necks out of the collar, and leave
+the laity to be fairly hanged for it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside and exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Follow your leader, friar; your colonel is
+trooped off, but he had not gone so easily, if I durst
+have trusted you in the house behind me. Gather
+up your gouty legs, I say, and rid my house of that
+huge body of divinity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">429</span><a id="page_429" name="page_429"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I expect some judgment should fall upon
+you, for your want of reverence to your spiritual director:
+Slander, covetousness, and jealousy, will
+weigh thee down.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Put pride, hypocrisy, and gluttony into your
+scale, father, and you shall weigh against me: Nay,
+an sins come to be divided once, the clergy puts in
+for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> How dar'st thou reproach the tribe of Levi?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Marry, because you make us laymen of the
+tribe of Issachar. You make asses of us, to bear
+your burthens. When we are young, you put panniers
+upon us with your church-discipline; and when
+we are grown up, you load us with a wife: after
+that, you procure for other men, and then you load
+our wives too. A fine phrase you have amongst
+you to draw us into marriage, you call it&mdash;<i>settling of
+a man;</i> just as when a fellow has got a sound knock
+upon the head, they say&mdash;<i>he's settled:</i> Marriage is a
+settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in the
+world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up
+the venom of the earth; but I never knew what a
+friar was good for, till your pimping shewed me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer;
+thy offences be upon thy head.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I believe there are some offences there of
+your planting. [<span class="sdm">Exit <span class="cnm">Dom.</span></span>] Lord, Lord, that men
+should have sense enough to set snares in their
+warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet&mdash;<br />
+<span class="i1">Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">For holy vermin that in houses prey.</span><span class="sdr">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="cnm">Gom.</span></span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.&mdash;<i>A Bed Chamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Leonora,</span> and <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> You are not what you were, since yesterday;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">430</span><a id="page_430" name="page_430"></a>
+Your food forsakes you, and your needful rest;<br />
+You pine, you languish, love to be alone;<br />
+Think much, speak little, and, in speaking, sigh:<br />
+When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet;<br />
+But, when you see him not, you are in pain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> O let them never love, who never tried!<br />
+They brought a paper to me to be signed;<br />
+Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name,<br />
+And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.<br />
+I went to bed, and to myself I thought<br />
+That I would think on Torrismond no more;<br />
+Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him.<br />
+I turned, and tried each corner of my bed,<br />
+To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost.<br />
+Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked,<br />
+And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went;<br />
+There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts,<br />
+I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,<br />
+And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,&mdash;<br />
+There fought my Torrismond.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> What hinders you to take the man you love?<br />
+The people will be glad, the soldiers shout,<br />
+And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I fear to try new love,<br />
+As boys to venture on the unknown ice,<br />
+That crackles underneath them while they slide.<br />
+Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!<br />
+Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I stand<br />
+Altering, like one that waits an ague fit;<br />
+And yet, would this were all!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> What fear you more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I am ashamed to say, 'tis but a fancy.<br />
+At break of day, when dreams, they say, are true,<br />
+A drowzy slumber, rather than a sleep,<br />
+Seized on my senses, with long watching worn:<br />
+Methought I stood on a wide river's bank,<br />
+Which I must needs o'erpass, but knew not how;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">431</span><a id="page_431" name="page_431"></a>
+When, on a sudden, Torrismond appeared,<br />
+Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er,<br />
+Leaping and bounding on the billows' heads,<br />
+'Till safely we had reached the farther shore.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> This dream portends some ill which you shall 'scape.<br />
+Would you see fairer visions, take this night<br />
+Your Torrismond within your arms to sleep;<br />
+And, to that end, invent some apt pretence<br />
+To break with Bertran: 'twould be better yet,<br />
+Could you provoke him to give you the occasion,<br />
+And then, to throw him off.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Bertran</span> at a distance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> My stars have sent him;<br />
+For, see, he comes. How gloomily he looks!<br />
+If he, as I suspect, have found my love,<br />
+His jealousy will furnish him with fury,<br />
+And me with means, to part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]
+Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her false?<br />
+If she be false, 'tis what she most desires.<br />
+My genius whispers me,&mdash;Be cautious, Bertran!<br />
+Thou walkest as on a narrow mountain's neck,<br />
+A dreadful height, with scanty room to tread.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> What business have you at the court, my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> What business, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Yes, my lord, what business?<br />
+'Tis somewhat, sure, of weighty consequence,<br />
+That brings you here so often, and unsent for.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> 'Tis what I feared; her words are cold enough,<br />
+To freeze a man to death. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;May I presume<br />
+To speak, and to complain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> They, who complain to princes, think them tame:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">432</span><a id="page_432" name="page_432"></a>
+What bull dares bellow, or what sheep dares bleat,<br />
+Within the lion's den?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Yet men are suffered to put heaven in mind<br />
+Of promised blessings; for they then are debts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> My lord, heaven knows its own time when to give;<br />
+But you, it seems, charge me with breach of faith!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I hope I need not, madam;<br />
+But as, when men in sickness lingering lie,<br />
+They count the tedious hours by months and years,&mdash;<br />
+So, every day deferred, to dying lovers,<br />
+Is a whole age of pain!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> What if I ne'er consent to make you mine?<br />
+My father's promise ties me not to time;<br />
+And bonds, without a date, they say, are void.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Far be it from me to believe you bound;<br />
+Love is the freest motion of our minds:<br />
+O could you see into my secret soul,<br />
+There might you read your own dominion doubled,<br />
+Both as a queen and mistress. If you leave me,<br />
+Know I can die, but dare not be displeased.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Sure you affect stupidity, my lord;<br />
+Or give me cause to think, that, when you lost<br />
+Three battles to the Moors, you coldly stood<br />
+As unconcerned as now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I did my best;<br />
+Fate was not in my power.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> And, with the like tame gravity, you saw<br />
+A raw young warrior take your baffled work,<br />
+And end it at a blow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I humbly take my leave; but they, who blast<br />
+Your good opinion of me, may have cause<br />
+To know, I am no coward.<span class="sdr">[He is going.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Bertran, stay.<br />
+[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] This may produce some dismal consequence<br />
+To him, whom dearer than my life I love.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">433</span><a id="page_433" name="page_433"></a>
+[<span class="sdm">To him.</span>] Have I not managed my contrivance well,<br />
+To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Then, was it but a trial?<br />
+Methinks I start as from some dreadful dream,<br />
+And often ask myself if yet I wake.&mdash;<br />
+This turn's too quick to be without design;<br />
+I'll sound the bottom of't, ere I believe.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I find your love, and would reward it too,<br />
+But anxious fears solicit my weak breast.<br />
+I fear my people's faith;<br />
+That hot-mouthed beast, that bears against the curb,<br />
+Hard to be broken even by lawful kings,<br />
+But harder by usurpers.<br />
+Judge then, my lord, with all these cares opprest,<br />
+If I can think of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Believe me, madam,<br />
+These jealousies, however large they spread,<br />
+Have but one root, the old imprisoned king;<br />
+Whose lenity first pleased the gaping crowd;<br />
+But when long tried, and found supinely good,<br />
+Like &AElig;sop's Log, they leapt upon his back.<br />
+Your father knew them well; and, when he mounted,<br />
+He reined them strongly, and he spurred them hard:<br />
+And, but he durst not do it all at once,<br />
+He had not left alive this patient saint,<br />
+This anvil of affronts, but sent him hence<br />
+To hold a peaceful branch of palm above,<br />
+And hymn it in the quire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> You've hit upon the very string, which, touched.<br />
+Echoes the sound, and jars within my soul;&mdash;<br />
+There lies my grief.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> So long as there's a head,<br />
+Thither will all the mounting spirits fly;<br />
+Lop that but off, and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> My virtue shrinks from such an horrid act.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> This 'tis to have a virtue out of season.<br />
+<span class="pgnm">434</span><a id="page_434" name="page_434"></a>
+Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue;<br />
+But kings mistake its timing, and are mild,<br />
+When manly courage bids them be severe:<br />
+Better be cruel once, than anxious ever.<br />
+Remove this threatening danger from your crown,<br />
+And then securely take the man you love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Walking aside.</span>]<br />
+Ha! let me think of that:&mdash;The man I love?<br />
+'Tis true, this murder is the only means,<br />
+That can secure my throne to Torrismond:<br />
+Nay, more, this execution, done by Bertran,<br />
+Makes him the object of the people's hate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> How eloquent is mischief to persuade!<br />
+Few are so wicked, as to take delight<br />
+In crimes unprofitable, nor do I:<br />
+If then I break divine and human laws,<br />
+No bribe but love could gain so bad a cause.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> You answer nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> 'Tis of deep concernment,<br />
+And I a woman, ignorant and weak:<br />
+I leave it all to you; think, what you do,<br />
+You do for him I love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> For him she loves?<br />
+She named not me; that may be Torrismond,<br />
+Whom she has thrice in private seen this day;<br />
+Then I am fairly caught in my own snare.<br />
+I'll think again. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;Madam, it shall be done;<br />
+And mine be all the blame.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> O, that it were! I would not do this crime,<br />
+And yet, like heaven, permit it to be done.<br />
+The priesthood grossly cheat us with free-will:<br />
+Will to do what&mdash;but what heaven first decreed?<br />
+Our actions then are neither good nor ill,<br />
+Since from eternal causes they proceed;<br />
+Our passions,&mdash;fear and anger, love and hate,&mdash;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">435</span><a id="page_435" name="page_435"></a>
+Mere senseless engines that are moved by fate;<br />
+Like ships on stormy seas, without a guide,<br />
+Tost by the winds, and driven by the tide.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Am I not rudely bold, and press too often<br />
+Into your presence, madam? If I am&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> No more, lest I should chide you for your stay:<br />
+Where have you been? and how could you suppose,<br />
+That I could live these two long hours without you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O words, to charm an angel from his orb!<br />
+Welcome, as kindly showers to long-parched earth!<br />
+But I have been in such a dismal place,<br />
+Where joy ne'er enters, which the sun ne'er cheers,<br />
+Bound in with darkness, overspread with damps;<br />
+Where I have seen (if I could say I saw)<br />
+The good old king, majestic in his bonds,<br />
+And, 'midst his griefs, most venerably great:<br />
+By a dim winking lamp, which feebly broke<br />
+The gloomy vapours, he lay stretched along<br />
+Upon the unwholesome earth, his eyes fixed upward;<br />
+And ever and anon a silent tear<br />
+Stole down, and trickled from his hoary beard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> O heaven, what have I done!&mdash;my gentle love,<br />
+Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake,<br />
+Cast off these fearful melancholy thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> My heart is withered at that piteous sight,<br />
+As early blossoms are with eastern blasts:<br />
+He sent for me, and, while I raised his head,<br />
+He threw his aged arms about my neck;<br />
+And, seeing that I wept, he pressed me close:<br />
+So, leaning cheek to cheek, and eyes to eyes,<br />
+We mingled tears in a dumb scene of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Forbear; you know not how you wound my soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Can you have grief, and not have pity too?<br />
+<span class="pgnm">436</span><a id="page_436" name="page_436"></a>
+He told me,&mdash;when my father did return,<br />
+He had a wond'rous secret to disclose:<br />
+He kissed me, blessed me, nay&mdash;he called me son;<br />
+He praised my courage; prayed for my success:<br />
+He was so true a father of his country,<br />
+To thank me, for defending even his foes,<br />
+Because they were his subjects.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> If they be,&mdash;then what am I?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> The sovereign of my soul, my earthly heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> And not your queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> You are so beautiful,<br />
+So wond'rous fair, you justify rebellion;<br />
+As if that faultless face could make no sin,<br />
+But heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> The king must die,&mdash;he must, my Torrismond,<br />
+Though pity softly plead within my soul;<br />
+Yet he must die, that I may make you great,<br />
+And give a crown in dowry with my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Perish that crown&mdash;on any head but yours!<br />
+O, recollect your thoughts!<br />
+Shake not his hour-glass, when his hasty sand<br />
+Is ebbing to the last:<br />
+A little longer, yet a little longer,<br />
+And nature drops him down, without your sin;<br />
+Like mellow fruit, without a winter storm.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Let me but do this one injustice more.<br />
+His doom is past, and, for your sake, he dies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Would you, for me, have done so ill an act,<br />
+And will not do a good one!<br />
+Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven,<br />
+O spare this great, this good, this aged king;<br />
+And spare your soul the crime!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> The crime's not mine;<br />
+'Twas first proposed, and must be done, by Bertran,<br />
+Fed with false hopes to gain my crown and me;<br />
+I, to enhance his ruin, gave no leave,<br />
+But barely bade him think, and then resolve.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">437</span><a id="page_437" name="page_437"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tor.</span> In not forbidding, you command the crime:<br />
+Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day;<br />
+How will you tremble, there to stand exposed,<br />
+And foremost, in the rank of guilty ghosts,<br />
+That must be doomed for murder! think on murder:<br />
+That troop is placed apart from common crimes;<br />
+The damned themselves start wide, and shun that band,<br />
+As far more black, and more forlorn than they.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> 'Tis terrible! it shakes, it staggers me;<br />
+I knew this truth, but I repelled that thought.<br />
+Sure there is none, but fears a future state;<br />
+And, when the most obdurate swear they do not,<br />
+Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Send speedily to Bertran; charge him strictly<br />
+Not to proceed, but wait my farther pleasure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Madam, he sends to tell you, 'tis performed.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Ten thousand plagues consume him! furies drag him,<br />
+Fiends tear him! blasted be the arm that struck,<br />
+The tongue that ordered!&mdash;only she be spared,<br />
+That hindered not the deed! O, where was then<br />
+The power, that guards the sacred lives of kings?<br />
+Why slept the lightning and the thunder-bolts,<br />
+Or bent their idle rage on fields and trees,<br />
+When vengeance called them here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Sleep that thought too;<br />
+'Tis done, and, since 'tis done, 'tis past recal;<br />
+And, since 'tis past recal, must be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O, never, never, shall it be forgotten!<br />
+High heaven will not forget it; after-ages<br />
+Shall with a fearful curse remember ours;<br />
+And blood shall never leave the nation more!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> His body shall be royally interred,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">438</span><a id="page_438" name="page_438"></a>
+And the last funeral-pomps adorn his hearse;<br />
+I will myself (as I have cause too just,)<br />
+Be the chief mourner at his obsequies;<br />
+And yearly fix on the revolving day<br />
+The solemn marks of mourning, to atone,<br />
+And expiate my offence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Nothing can,<br />
+But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head,&mdash;<br />
+Which, dear departed spirit, here I vow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Here end our sorrows, and begin our joys:<br />
+Love calls, my Torrismond; though hate has raged,<br />
+And ruled the day, yet love will rule the night.<br />
+The spiteful stars have shed their venom down,<br />
+And now the peaceful planets take their turn.<br />
+This deed of Bertran's has removed all fears,<br />
+And given me just occasion to refuse him.<br />
+What hinders now, but that the holy priest<br />
+In secret join our mutual vows? and then<br />
+This night, this happy night, is yours and mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Be still my sorrows, and be loud my joys.<br />
+Fly to the utmost circles of the sea,<br />
+Thou furious tempest, that hast tossed my mind,<br />
+And leave no thought, but Leonora there.&mdash;<br />
+What's this I feel, a boding in my soul,<br />
+As if this day were fatal? be it so;<br />
+Fate shall but have the leavings of my love:<br />
+My joys are gloomy, but withal are great.<br />
+The lion, though he sees the toils are set,<br />
+Yet, pinched with raging hunger, scowers away,<br />
+Hunts in the face of danger all the day;<br />
+At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his prey.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">439</span><a id="page_439" name="page_439"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Before Gomez's Door.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo, Dominick,</span> and two Soldiers at a
+distance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I'll not wag an ace farther: the whole
+world shall not bribe me to it; for my conscience
+will digest these gross enormities no longer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> How, thy conscience not digest them! There
+is ne'er a friar in Spain can shew a conscience, that
+comes near it for digestion. It digested pimping,
+when I sent thee with my letter; and it digested
+perjury, when thou swor'st thou didst not know me:
+I am sure it has digested me fifty pounds, of as hard
+gold as is in all Barbary. Pr'ythee, why shouldest
+thou discourage fornication, when thou knowest
+thou lovest a sweet young girl?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Away, away; I do not love them;&mdash;pah;
+no,&mdash;[<span class="sdm">spits.</span>] I do not love a pretty girl&mdash;you are
+so waggish!&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Spits again.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Why thy mouth waters at the very mention
+of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> You take a mighty pleasure in defamation,
+colonel; but I wonder what you find in running
+restless up and down, breaking your brains, emptying
+your purse, and wearing out your body, with
+hunting after unlawful game.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Why there's the satisfaction on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> This incontinency may proceed to adultery,
+and adultery to murder, and murder to hanging;
+and there's the satisfaction on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">440</span><a id="page_440" name="page_440"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I'll not hang alone, friar; I'm resolved to
+peach thee before thy superiors, for what thou hast
+done already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I'm resolved to forswear it, if you do. Let
+me advise you better, colonel, than to accuse a
+church-man to a church-man; in the common cause
+we are all of a piece; we hang together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If you don't, it were no matter if you did.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Nay, if you talk of peaching, I'll peach
+first, and see whose oath will be believed; I'll trounce
+you for offering to corrupt my honesty, and bribe
+my conscience: you shall be summoned by an host
+of parators; you shall be sentenced in the spiritual
+court; you shall be excommunicated; you shall be
+outlawed;&mdash;and&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Here <span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> takes a purse, and plays with it,
+and at last lets the purse fall chinking on the
+ground, which the Friar eyes.</span><br /><br /><br />
+[<span class="sdm">In another tone.</span>] I say, a man might do this now,
+if he were maliciously disposed, and had a mind to
+bring matters to extremity: but, considering that
+you are my friend, a person of honour, and a worthy
+good charitable man, I would rather die a thousand
+deaths than disoblige you.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> takes up the purse, and pours it into
+the Friar's sleeve.</span><br /><br />
+Nay, good sir;&mdash;nay, dear colonel;&mdash;O lord, sir, what
+are you doing now! I profess this must not be:
+without this I would have served you to the utter-most;
+pray command me.&mdash;A jealous, foul-mouthed
+rogue this Gomez is; I saw how he used you, and
+you marked how he used me too. O he's a bitter
+man; but we'll join our forces; ah, shall we, colonel?
+we'll be revenged on him with a witness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> But how shall I send her word to be ready
+at the door? for I must reveal it in confession to
+<span class="pgnm">441</span><a id="page_441" name="page_441"></a>
+you, that I mean to carry her away this evening,
+by the help of these two soldiers. I know Gomez
+suspects you, and you will hardly gain admittance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Let me alone; I fear him not. I am armed
+with the authority of my clothing: yonder I see
+him keeping sentry at his door:&mdash;have you never
+seen a citizen, in a cold morning, clapping his sides,
+and walking forward and backward, a mighty pace
+before his shop? but I'll gain the pass, in spite of
+his suspicion; stand you aside, and do but mark
+how I accost him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If he meet with a repulse, we must throw
+off the fox's skin, and put on the lion's.&mdash;Come,
+gentlemen, you'll stand by me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sol.</span> Do not doubt us, colonel.
+<span class="sdr">[They retire all three to a corner of the stage;
+<span class="cnm">Dominick</span> goes to the door where <span class="cnm">Gomez</span>
+stands.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Good even, Gomez; how does your wife?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Just as you'd have her; thinking on nothing
+but her dear colonel, and conspiring cuckoldom
+against me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I dare say, you wrong her; she is employing
+her thoughts how to cure you of your jealousy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Yes, by certainty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> By your leave, Gomez; I have some spiritual
+advice to impart to her on that subject.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> You may spare your instructions, if you
+please, father; she has no farther need of them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> How, no need of them! do you speak in
+riddles?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Since you will have me speak plainer,&mdash;she
+has profited so well already by your counsel, that
+she can say her lesson without your teaching: Do
+you understand me now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I must not neglect my duty, for all that;
+once again, Gomez, by your leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">442</span><a id="page_442" name="page_442"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gom.</span> She's a little indisposed at present, and it
+will not be convenient to disturb her.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Dominick</span> offers to go by him, but t'other stands
+before him.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Indisposed, say you? O, it is upon those
+occasions that a confessor is most necessary; I
+think, it was my good angel that sent me hither so
+opportunely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, whose good angels sent you hither, that
+you best know, father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> A word or two of devotion will do her no
+harm, I'm sure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> A little sleep will do her more good, I'm
+sure: You know, she disburthened her conscience
+but this morning to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may
+have new occasion to confess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Indeed, as you order matters with the colonel,
+she may have occasion of confessing herself
+every hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Pray, how long has she been sick?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Lord, you will force a man to speak;&mdash;why,
+ever since your last defeat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> This can be but some slight indisposition;
+it will not last, and I may see her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> How, not last! I say, it will last, and it
+shall last; she shall be sick these seven or eight
+days, and perhaps longer, as I see occasion. What?
+I know the mind of her sickness a little better than
+you do.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I find, then, I must bring a doctor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And he'll bring an apothecary, with a chargeable
+long bill of <i>ana's</i>: those of my family have the
+grace to die cheaper. In a word, Sir Dominick, we
+understand one another's business here: I am resolved
+to stand like the Swiss of my own family, to
+defend the entrance; you may mumble over your
+<span class="pgnm">443</span><a id="page_443" name="page_443"></a>
+<i>pater nosters</i>, if you please, and try if you can make
+my doors fly open, and batter down my walls with
+bell, book, and candle; but I am not of opinion,
+that you are holy enough to commit miracles.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Men of my order are not to be treated after
+this manner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I would treat the pope and all his cardinals
+in the same manner, if they offered to see my wife,
+without my leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I excommunicate thee from the church, if
+thou dost not open; there's promulgation coming
+out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And I excommunicate you from my wife,
+if you go to that: there's promulgation for promulgation,
+and bull for bull; and so I leave you to recreate
+yourself with the end of an old song&mdash;<br />
+<i>And sorrow came to the old friar.</i><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> comes to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I will not ask you your success; for I overheard
+part of it, and saw the conclusion. I find we
+are now put upon our last trump; the fox is earthed,
+but I shall send my two terriers in after him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> I warrant you, colonel, we'll unkennel him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> And make what haste you can, to bring out
+the lady.&mdash;What say you, father? Burglary is but a
+venial sin among soldiers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy
+of the church.&mdash;There is a proverb, I confess,
+which says, that dead men tell no tales; but let
+your soldiers apply it at their own perils.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What, take away a man's wife, and kill him
+too! The wickedness of this old villain startles me,
+and gives me a twinge for my own sin, though it
+comes far short of his.&mdash;Hark you, soldiers, be sure
+you use as little violence to him as is possible.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">444</span><a id="page_444" name="page_444"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Hold a little; I have thought better how
+to secure him, with less danger to us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> O miracle, the friar is grown conscientious!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> The old king, you know, is just murdered,
+and the persons that did it are unknown; let the
+soldiers seize him for one of the assassinates, and let
+me alone to accuse him afterwards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for
+suspecting a friar of the least good nature; what,
+would you accuse him wrongfully?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> I must confess, 'tis wrongful, <i>quoad hoc</i>, as
+to the fact itself; but 'tis rightful, <i>quoad hunc</i>, as to
+this heretical rogue, whom we must dispatch. He
+has railed against the church, which is a fouler crime
+than the murder of a thousand kings. <i>Omne majus
+continet in se minus:</i> He, that is an enemy to the
+church, is an enemy unto heaven; and he, that is an
+enemy to heaven, would have killed the king if he
+had been in the circumstances of doing it; so it is
+not wrongful to accuse him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I never knew a churchman, if he were personally
+offended, but he would bring in heaven by
+hook or crook into his quarrel.&mdash;Soldiers, do as you
+were first ordered.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Soldiers.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> What was't you ordered them? Are you
+sure it's safe, and not scandalous?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Somewhat near your own design, but not
+altogether so mischievous. The people are infinitely
+discontented, as they have reason; and mutinies
+there are, or will be, against the queen: now I am
+content to put him thus far into the plot, that he
+should be secured as a traitor; but he shall only be
+prisoner at the soldiers' quarters; and when I am out
+of reach, he shall be released.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> And what will become of me then? for
+when he is free, he will infallibly accuse me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">445</span><a id="page_445" name="page_445"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Why then, father, you must have recourse
+to your infallible church-remedies; lie impudently,
+and swear devoutly, and, as you told me but now,
+let him try whose oath will be first believed. Retire,
+I hear them coming.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[They withdraw.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter the Soldiers with <span class="cnm">Gomez</span> struggling on their
+backs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Help, good Christians! help, neighbours!
+my house is broken open by force, and I am ravished,
+and like to be assassinated!&mdash;What do you mean,
+villains? will you carry me away, like a pedlar's
+pack, upon your backs? will you murder a man in
+plain day-light?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Soldier.</span> No; but we'll secure you for a traitor,
+and for being in a plot against the state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom,</span> Who, I in a plot! O Lord! O Lord! I
+never durst be in a plot: Why, how can you in
+conscience suspect a rich citizen of so much wit as
+to make a plotter? There are none but poor rogues,
+and those that can't live without it, that are in
+plots.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Soldier.</span> Away with him, away with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> O my gold! my wife! my wife! my gold!
+As I hope to be saved now, I know no more of the
+plot than they that made it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[They carry him off, and exeunt.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Thus far we have sailed with a merry gale,
+and now we have the Cape of Good Hope in sight;
+the trade-wind is our own, if we can but double it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[He looks out.</span><br />
+[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Ah, my father and Pedro stand at the corner
+of the street with company; there's no stirring
+till they are past.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Elvira</span> with a casket.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Am I come at last into your arms?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">446</span><a id="page_446" name="page_446"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Fear nothing; the adventure's ended, and the
+knight may carry off the lady safely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> I'm so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am
+at liberty; but stand panting, like a bird that has
+often beaten her wings in vain against her cage, and
+at last dares hardly venture out, though she sees it
+open.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Lose no time, but make haste while the
+way is free for you; and thereupon I give you my
+benediction.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> 'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's
+an old gentleman of my acquaintance, that blocks
+up the passage at the corner of the street.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> What have you gotten there under your
+arm, daughter? somewhat, I hope, that will bear
+your charges in your pilgrimage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> The friar has an hawk's eye to gold and
+jewels.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Here's that will make you dance without a
+fiddle, and provide better entertainment for us, than
+hedges in summer, and barns in winter. Here's
+the very heart, and soul, and life-blood of Gomez;
+pawns in abundance, old gold of widows, and new
+gold of prodigals, and pearls and diamonds of court
+ladies, till the next bribe helps their husbands to
+redeem them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> They are the spoils of the wicked, and the
+church endows you with them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> And, faith, we'll drink the church's health
+out of them. But all this while I stand on thorns.
+Pr'ythee, dear, look out, and see if the coast be free
+for our escape; for I dare not peep, for fear of being
+known.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Elvira</span> goes to look, and <span class="cnm">Gomez</span> comes
+running in upon her: She shrieks out.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Thanks to my stars, I have recovered my
+own territories.&mdash;What do I see? I'm ruined! I'm
+undone! I'm betrayed!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">447</span><a id="page_447" name="page_447"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] What a hopeful enterprise is here
+spoiled!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> O, colonel are you there?&mdash;and you, friar?
+nay, then I find how the world goes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Cheer up, man, thou art out of jeopardy; I
+heard thee crying out just now, and came running
+in full speed, with the wings of an eagle, and the
+feet of a tiger, to thy rescue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, you are always at hand to do me a
+courtesy, with your eagle's feet, and your tiger's
+wings.&mdash;And what were you here for, friar?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> To interpose my spiritual authority in your
+behalf.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And why did you shriek out, gentlewoman?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> 'Twas for joy at your return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And that casket under your arm, for what
+end and purpose?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Only to preserve it from the thieves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And you came running out of doors&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Only to meet you, sweet husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> A fine evidence summed up among you;
+thank you heartily, you are all my friends. The
+colonel was walking by accidentally, and hearing
+my voice, came in to save me; the friar, who was
+hobbling the same way too, accidentally again, and
+not knowing of the colonel, I warrant you, he comes
+in to pray for me; and my faithful wife runs out of
+doors to meet me, with all my jewels under her arm,
+and shrieks out for joy at my return. But if my
+father-in-law had not met your soldiers, colonel, and
+delivered me in the nick, I should neither have
+found a friend nor a friar here, and might have
+shrieked out for joy myself, for the loss of my jewels
+and my wife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Art thou an infidel? Wilt thou not believe
+us?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Such churchmen as you would make any
+<span class="pgnm">448</span><a id="page_448" name="page_448"></a>
+man an infidel.&mdash;Get you into your kennel, gentlewoman;
+I shall thank you within doors for your
+safe custody of my jewels and your own.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[He thrusts his wife off the stage.</span><br />
+As for you, colonel Huffcap, we shall try before a
+civil magistrate, who's the greater plotter of us two,
+I against the state, or you against the petticoat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Nay, if you will complain, you shall for
+something.<span class="sdr">[Beats him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Murder, murder! I give up the ghost!
+I am destroyed! help, murder, murder!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Away, colonel; let us fly for our lives: the
+neighbours are coming out with forks, and fire-shovels,
+and spits, and other domestic weapons; the
+militia of a whole alley is raised against us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> This is but the interest of my debt, master
+usurer; the principal shall be paid you at our next
+meeting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Ah, if your soldiers had but dispatched
+him, his tongue had been laid asleep, colonel; but
+this comes of not following good counsel; ah&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Lor.</span> and Friar severally.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I'll be revenged of him, if I dare; but he's
+such a terrible fellow, that my mind misgives me;
+I shall tremble when I have him before the judge.
+All my misfortunes come together. I have been
+robbed, and cuckolded, and ravished, and beaten, in
+one quarter of an hour; my poor limbs smart, and
+my poor head aches: ay, do, do, smart limb, ache
+head, and sprout horns; but I'll be hanged before
+I'll pity you:&mdash;you must needs be married, must ye?
+there's for that; [<i>Beats his own head.</i>] and to a fine,
+young, modish lady, must ye? there's for that too;
+and, at threescore, you old, doting cuckold! take
+that remembrance;&mdash;a fine time of day for a man
+to be bound prentice, when he is past using of his
+trade; to set up an equipage of noise, when he has
+<span class="pgnm">449</span><a id="page_449" name="page_449"></a>
+most need of quiet; instead of her being under covert-baron,
+to be under covert-femme myself; to
+have my body disabled, and my head fortified; and,
+lastly, to be crowded into a narrow box with a shrill
+treble,<br />
+<span class="i1">That with one blast through the whole house does bound,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And first taught speaking-trumpets how to sound.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>The Court.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Raymond, Alphonso,</span> and <span class="cnm">Pedro.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Are these, are these, ye powers, the promised joys,<br />
+With which I flattered my long, tedious absence,<br />
+To find, at my return, my master murdered?<br />
+O, that I could but weep, to vent my passion!<br />
+But this dry sorrow burns up all my tears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Mourn inward, brother; 'tis observed at court,<br />
+Who weeps, and who wears black; and your return<br />
+Will fix all eyes on every act of yours,<br />
+To see how you resent King Sancho's death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> What generous man can live with that constraint<br />
+Upon his soul, to bear, much less to flatter,<br />
+A court like this! Can I sooth tyranny?<br />
+Seem pleased to see my royal master murdered,<br />
+His crown usurped, a distaff in the throne,<br />
+A council made of such as dare not speak,<br />
+And could not, if they durst; whence honest men<br />
+Banish themselves, for shame of being there:<br />
+A government, that, knowing not true wisdom,<br />
+Is scorned abroad, and lives on tricks at home?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Virtue must be thrown off; 'tis a coarse garment,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">450</span><a id="page_450" name="page_450"></a>
+Too heavy for the sun-shine of a court.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Well then, I will dissemble, for an end<br />
+So great, so pious, as a just revenge:<br />
+You'll join with me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> No honest man but must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> What title has this queen, but lawless force?<br />
+And force must pull her down.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Truth is, I pity Leonora's case;<br />
+Forced, for her safety, to commit a crime,<br />
+Which most her soul abhors.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> All she has done, or e'er can do, of good,<br />
+This one black deed has damned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped,</span> You'll hardly gain your son to our design.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Your reason for't?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> I want time to unriddle it:<br />
+Put on your t'other face, the queen approaches.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Leonora, Bertran,</span> and Attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> And that accursed Bertran<br />
+Stalks close behind her, like a witch's fiend,<br />
+Pressing to be employed; stand, and observe them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> to <i>Bert.</i> Buried in private, and so suddenly!<br />
+It crosses my design, which was to allow<br />
+The rites of funeral fitting his degree,<br />
+With all the pomp of mourning.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> It was not safe:<br />
+Objects of pity, when the cause is new,<br />
+Would work too fiercely on the giddy crowd:<br />
+Had Cæsar's body never been exposed,<br />
+Brutus had gained his cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Then, was he loved?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> O, never man so much, for saint-like goodness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Had bad men feared him, but as good men loved him,<br />
+He had not yet been sainted.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I wonder how the people bear his death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">451</span><a id="page_451" name="page_451"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Some discontents there are; some idle murmurs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> How, idle murmurs! Let me plainly speak:<br />
+The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,<br />
+With arms across, and hats upon their eyes,<br />
+Walk to and fro before their silent shops;<br />
+Whole droves of lenders crowd the bankers' doors,<br />
+To call in money; those, who have none, mark<br />
+Where money goes; for when they rise, 'tis plunder:<br />
+The rabble gather round the man of news,<br />
+And listen with their mouths;<br />
+Some tell, some hear, some judge of news, some make it;<br />
+And he, who lies most loud, is most believed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> This may be dangerous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Pray heaven it may!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> If one of you must fall,<br />
+Self-preservation is the first of laws;<br />
+And if, when subjects are oppressed by kings,<br />
+They justify rebellion by that law,<br />
+As well may monarchs turn the edge of right<br />
+To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> You place such arbitrary power in kings,<br />
+That I much fear, if I should make you one,<br />
+You'll make yourself a tyrant; let these know<br />
+By what authority you did this act.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> You much surprise me, to demand that question:<br />
+But, since truth must be told, 'twas by your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Produce it; or, by heaven, your head shall answer<br />
+The forfeit of your tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Brave mischief towards.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> You bade me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> When, and where?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> No, I confess, you bade me not in words;<br />
+The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">452</span><a id="page_452" name="page_452"></a>
+And pointed full upon the stroke of murder:<br />
+Yet this you said,<br />
+You were a woman, ignorant and weak,<br />
+So left it to my care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> What, if I said,<br />
+I was a woman, ignorant and weak,<br />
+Were you to take the advantage of my sex,<br />
+And play the devil to tempt me? You contrived,<br />
+You urged, you drove me headlong to your toils;<br />
+And if, much tired, and frighted more, I paused,<br />
+Were you to make my doubts your own commission?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> This 'tis, to serve a prince too faithfully;<br />
+Who, free from laws himself, will have that done,<br />
+Which, not performed, brings us to sure disgrace;<br />
+And, if performed, to ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> This 'tis, to counsel things that are unjust;<br />
+First, to debauch a king to break his laws,<br />
+Which are his safety, and then seek protection<br />
+From him you have endangered; but, just heaven,<br />
+When sins are judged, will damn the tempting devil,<br />
+More deep than those he tempted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> If princes not protect their ministers,<br />
+What man will dare to serve them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> None will dare<br />
+To serve them ill, when they are left to laws;<br />
+But, when a counsellor, to save himself,<br />
+Would lay miscarriages upon his prince,<br />
+Exposing him to public rage and hate;<br />
+O, 'tis an act as infamously base,<br />
+As, should a common soldier sculk behind,<br />
+And thrust his general in the front of war:<br />
+It shews, he only served himself before,<br />
+And had no sense of honour, country, king,<br />
+But centered on himself, and used his master,<br />
+As guardians do their wards, with shews of care,<br />
+But with intent to sell the public safety,<br />
+And pocket up his prince.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">453</span><a id="page_453" name="page_453"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Well said, i'faith;<br />
+This speech is e'en too good for an usurper.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I see for whom I must be sacrificed;<br />
+And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,<br />
+I might have found it sooner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> From my sight!<br />
+The prince, who bears an insolence like this,<br />
+Is such an image of the powers above,<br />
+As is the statue of the thundering god,<br />
+Whose bolts the boys may play with.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Unrevenged<br />
+I will not fall, nor single.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Welcome, welcome!
+<span class="sdr">[To RAYM. who kisses her hand.</span><br />
+I saw you not before: One honest lord<br />
+Is hid with ease among a crowd of courtiers.<br />
+How can I be too grateful to the father<br />
+Of such a son as Torrismond?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> His actions were but duty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Yet, my lord,<br />
+All have not paid that debt, like noble Torrismond.<br />
+You hear, how Bertran brands me with a crime,<br />
+Of which, your son can witness, I am free.<br />
+I sent to stop the murder, but too late;<br />
+For crimes are swift, but penitence is slow:<br />
+The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,<br />
+Flew to prevent the soft returns of pity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> O cursed haste, of making sure of sin!&mdash;<br />
+Can you forgive the traitor?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Never, never:<br />
+'Tis written here in characters so deep,<br />
+That seven years hence, ('till then should I not meet him,)<br />
+And in the temple then, I'll drag him thence,<br />
+Even from the holy altar to the block.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> She's fired, as I would wish her; aid me, justice,
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+<span class="pgnm">454</span><a id="page_454" name="page_454"></a>
+As all my ends are thine, to gain this point,<br />
+And ruin both at once.&mdash;It wounds, indeed,<span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br />
+To bear affronts, too great to be forgiven,<br />
+And not have power to punish; yet one way<br />
+There is to ruin Bertran.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> O, there's none;<br />
+Except an host from heaven can make such haste<br />
+To save my crown, as he will do to seize it.<br />
+You saw, he came surrounded with his friends,<br />
+And knew, besides, our army was removed<br />
+To quarters too remote for sudden use.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Yet you may give commission<br />
+To some bold man, whose loyalty you trust,<br />
+And let him raise the train-bands of the city.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Gross feeders, lion talkers, lamb-like fighters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> You do not know the virtues of your city,<br />
+What pushing force they have; some popular chief,<br />
+More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo,<br />
+And, in a trice, the bellowing herd come out;<br />
+The gates are barred, the ways are barricadoed,<br />
+And <i>One and all's</i> the word; true cocks o'the game,<br />
+That never ask, for what, or whom, they fight;<br />
+But turn them out, and shew them but a foe,<br />
+Cry&mdash;<i>Liberty!</i> and that's a cause of quarrel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> There may be danger in that boisterous rout:<br />
+Who knows, when fires are kindled for my foes,<br />
+But some new blast of wind may turn those flames<br />
+Against my palace-walls?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> But still their chief<br />
+Must be some one, whose loyalty you trust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> And who more proper for that trust than you,<br />
+Whose interests, though unknown to you, are mine?<br />
+Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the rabble;<br />
+He shall appear to head them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside to <span class="cnm">Alph.</span> and <span class="cnm">Ped.</span></span>]<br />
+First sieze Bertran,<br />
+And then insinuate to them, that I bring<br />
+<span class="pgnm">455</span><a id="page_455" name="page_455"></a>
+Their lawful prince to place upon the throne.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Our lawful prince!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Fear not; I can produce him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Alph.</span></span>]<br />
+Now we want your son Lorenzo:  what a mighty faction<br />
+Would he make for us of the city-wives,<br />
+With,&mdash;Oh, dear husband, my sweet honey husband,<br />
+Wont you be for the colonel? if you love me,<br />
+Be for the colonel; Oh, he's the finest man!
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Alph.</span> and <span class="cnm">Ped.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> So, now we have a plot behind the plot.<br />
+She thinks, she's in the depth of my design,<br />
+And that 'tis all for her; but time shall show,<br />
+She only lives to help me ruin others,<br />
+And last, to fall herself.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Now, to you, Raymond: can you guess no reason<br />
+Why I repose such confidence in you?<br />
+You needs must think,<br />
+There's some more powerful cause than loyalty:<br />
+Will you not speak, to save a lady's blush?<br />
+Need I inform you, 'tis for Torrismond,<br />
+That all this grace is shown?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> By all the powers, worse, worse than what I feared!
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> And yet, what need I blush at such a choice?<br />
+I love a man whom I am proud to love,<br />
+And am well pleased my inclination gives<br />
+What gratitude would force. O pardon me;<br />
+I ne'er was covetous of wealth before;<br />
+Yet think so vast a treasure as your son,<br />
+Too great for any private man's possession;<br />
+And him too rich a jewel, to be set<br />
+In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Arm me with patience, heaven!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> How, patience, Raymond?<br />
+What exercise of patience have you here?<br />
+<span class="pgnm">456</span><a id="page_456" name="page_456"></a>
+What find you in my crown to be contemned;<br />
+Or in my person loathed? Have I, a queen,<br />
+Past by my fellow-rulers of the world,<br />
+Whose vying crowns lay glittering in my way,<br />
+As if the world were paved with diadems?<br />
+Have I refused their blood, to mix with yours,<br />
+And raise new kings from so obscure a race,<br />
+Fate scarce knew where to find them, when I called?<br />
+Have I heaped on my person, crown, and state,<br />
+To load the scale, and weighed myself with earth,<br />
+For you to spurn the balance?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Bate the last, and 'tis what I would say:<br />
+Can I, can any loyal subject, see<br />
+With patience, such a stoop from sovereignty,<br />
+An ocean poured upon a narrow brook?<br />
+My zeal for you must lay the father by,<br />
+And plead my country's cause against my son.<br />
+What though his heart be great, his actions gallant,<br />
+He wants a crown to poise against a crown,<br />
+Birth to match birth, and power to balance power.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> All these I have, and these I can bestow;<br />
+But he brings worth and virtue to my bed;<br />
+And virtue is the wealth which tyrants want:<br />
+I stand in need of one, whose glories may<br />
+Redeem my crimes, ally me to his fame,<br />
+Dispel the factions of my foes on earth,<br />
+Disarm the justice of the powers above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> The people never will endure this choice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> If I endure it, what imports it you?<br />
+Go, raise the ministers of my revenge,<br />
+Guide with your breath this whirling tempest round,<br />
+And see its fury fall where I design.<br />
+At last a time for just revenge is given;<br />
+Revenge, the darling attribute of heaven:<br />
+But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;<br />
+Still more exposed, the more he pardons wrong;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">457</span><a id="page_457" name="page_457"></a>
+Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;<br />
+To be a saint, he makes himself a slave.<span class="sdr">[Exit Queen.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<span class="sdm">Solus.</span>]<br />
+Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be,<br />
+By heaven, it must not be! or, if it be,<br />
+Law, justice, honour, bid farewell to earth,<br />
+For heaven leaves all to tyrants.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond,</span> who kneels to him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O, very welcome, sir!<br />
+But doubly now! You come in such a time,<br />
+As if propitious fortune took a care,<br />
+To swell my tide of joys to their full height,<br />
+And leave me nothing farther to desire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> I hope, I come in time, if not to make,<br />
+At least to save your fortune and your honour.<br />
+Take heed you steer your vessel right, my son;<br />
+This calm of heaven, this mermaid's melody,<br />
+Into an unseen whirlpool draws you fast,<br />
+And, in a moment, sinks you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Fortune cannot,<br />
+And fate can scarce; I've made the port already,<br />
+And laugh securely at the lazy storm,<br />
+That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.<br />
+Your pardon, sir; my duty calls me hence;<br />
+I go to find my queen, my earthly goddess,<br />
+To whom I owe my hopes, my life, my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> You owe her more, perhaps, than you imagine;<br />
+Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first.<br />
+This hour's the very crisis of your fate,<br />
+Your good or ill, your infamy or fame,<br />
+And all the colour of your life, depends<br />
+On this important now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I see no danger;<br />
+The city, army, court, espouse my cause,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">458</span><a id="page_458" name="page_458"></a>
+And, more than all, the queen, with public favour,<br />
+Indulges my pretensions to her love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,<br />
+'Tis granted, nothing hinders your design.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> If she can make me blest? she only can;<br />
+Empire, and wealth, and all she brings beside,<br />
+Are but the train and trappings of her love:<br />
+The sweetest, kindest, truest of her sex,<br />
+In whose possession years roll round on years,<br />
+And joys, in circles, meet new joys again;<br />
+Kisses, embraces, languishing, and death,<br />
+Still from each other to each other move,<br />
+To crown the various seasons of our love;<br />
+And doubt you if such love can make me happy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Yes; for, I think, you love your honour more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> And what can shock my honour in a queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> A tyrant, an usurper?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Grant she be;<br />
+When from the conqueror we hold our lives,<br />
+We yield ourselves his subjects from that hour;<br />
+For mutual benefits make mutual ties.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Why, can you think I owe a thief my life,<br />
+Because he took it not by lawless force?<br />
+What, if he did not all the ill he could?<br />
+Am I obliged by that to assist his rapines,<br />
+And to maintain his murders?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Not to maintain, but bear them unrevenged.<br />
+Kings' titles commonly begin by force,<br />
+Which time wears off, and mellows into right;<br />
+So power, which, in one age, is tyranny,<br />
+Is ripened, in the next, to true succession:<br />
+She's in possession.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> So diseases are:<br />
+Should not a lingering fever be removed,<br />
+Because it long has raged within my blood?<br />
+Do I rebel, when I would thrust it out?<br />
+<span class="pgnm">459</span><a id="page_459" name="page_459"></a>
+What, shall I think the world was made for one,<br />
+And men are born for kings, as beasts for men,<br />
+Not for protection, but to be devoured?<br />
+Mark those, who dote on arbitrary power,<br />
+And you shall find them either hot-brained youth,<br />
+Or needy bankrupts, servile in their greatness,<br />
+And slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest.<br />
+O baseness, to support a tyrant throne,<br />
+And crush your freeborn brethren of the world!<br />
+Nay, to become a part of usurpation;<br />
+To espouse the tyrant's person and her crimes,<br />
+And, on a tyrant, get a race of tyrants,<br />
+To be your country's curse in after ages.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I see no crime in her whom I adore,<br />
+Or, if I do, her beauty makes it none:<br />
+Look on me as a man abandoned o'er<br />
+To an eternal lethargy of love;<br />
+To pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,<br />
+And but disturb the quiet of my death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> O virtue, virtue! what art thou become,<br />
+That man should leave thee for that toy, a woman,<br />
+Made from the dross and refuse of a man!<br />
+Heaven took him, sleeping, when he made her too;<br />
+Had man been waking, he had ne'er consented.<br />
+Now, son, suppose<br />
+Some brave conspiracy were ready formed,<br />
+To punish tyrants, and redeem the land,<br />
+Could you so far belie your country's hope,<br />
+As not to head the party?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> How could my hand rebel against my heart?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> How could your heart rebel against your reason?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> No honour bids me fight against myself;<br />
+The royal family is all extinct,<br />
+And she, who reigns, bestows her crown on me:<br />
+So must I be ungrateful to the living,<br />
+To be but vainly pious to the dead,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">460</span><a id="page_460" name="page_460"></a>
+While you defraud your offspring of their fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Mark who defraud their offspring, you or I?<br />
+For know, there yet survives the lawful heir<br />
+Of Sancho's blood, whom when I shall produce,<br />
+I rest assured to see you pale with fear,<br />
+And trembling at his name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> He must be more than man, who makes me tremble.<br />
+I dare him to the field, with all the odds<br />
+Of justice on his side, against my tyrant:<br />
+Produce your lawful prince, and you shall see<br />
+How brave a rebel love has made your son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Read that; 'tis with the royal signet signed,<br />
+And given me, by the king, when time should serve,<br />
+To be perused by you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Reads.</span>] <i>I, the king.<br />
+My youngest and alone surviving son,<br />
+Reported dead, to escape rebellious rage,<br />
+Till happier times shall call his courage forth,<br />
+To break my fetters, or revenge my fate,<br />
+I will that Raymond educate as his,<br />
+And call him Torrismond&mdash;</i><br />
+If I am he, that son, that Torrismond,<br />
+The world contains not so forlorn a wretch!<br />
+Let never man believe he can be happy!<br />
+For, when I thought my fortune most secure,<br />
+One fatal moment tears me from my joys;<br />
+And when two hearts were joined by mutual love,<br />
+The sword of justice cuts upon the knot,<br />
+And severs them for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> True, it must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O, cruel man, to tell me that it must!<br />
+If you have any pity in your breast,<br />
+Redeem me from this labyrinth of fate,<br />
+And plunge me in my first obscurity.<br />
+The secret is alone between us two;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">461</span><a id="page_461" name="page_461"></a>
+And, though you would not hide me from myself,<br />
+O, yet be kind, conceal me from the world,<br />
+And be my father still!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Your lot's too glorious, and the proof's too plain.<br />
+Now, in the name of honour, sir, I beg you,&mdash;<br />
+Since I must use authority no more,&mdash;<br />
+On these old knees, I beg you, ere I die,<br />
+That I may see your father's death revenged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Why, 'tis the only business of my life;<br />
+My order's issued to recall the army,<br />
+And Bertran's death's resolved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> And not the queen's? O, she's the chief offender!<br />
+Shall justice turn her edge within your hand?<br />
+No, if she 'scape, you are yourself the tyrant,<br />
+And murderer of your father.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Cruel fates!<br />
+To what have you reserved me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Why that sigh?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Since you must know,&mdash;but break, O break, my heart,<br />
+Before I tell my fatal story out!&mdash;<br />
+The usurper of my throne, my house's ruin!<br />
+The murderer of my father,&mdash;is my wife!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> O horror, horror!&mdash;After this alliance,<br />
+Let tigers match with hinds, and wolves with sheep,<br />
+And every creature couple with his foe.<br />
+How vainly man designs, when heaven opposes!<br />
+I bred you up to arms, raised you to power,<br />
+Permitted you to fight for this usurper,<br />
+Indeed to save a crown, not hers, but yours,<br />
+All to make sure the vengeance of this day,<br />
+Which even this day has ruined. One more question<br />
+Let me but ask, and I have done for ever;&mdash;<br />
+Do you yet love the cause of all your woes,<br />
+Or is she grown, as sure she ought to be,<br />
+More odious to your sight than toads and adders?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">462</span><a id="page_462" name="page_462"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O there's the utmost malice of my fate,<br />
+That I am bound to hate, and born to love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> No more!&mdash;Farewell, my much lamented king!&mdash;<br />
+I dare not trust him with himself so far,<br />
+To own him to the people as their king,<br />
+Before their rage has finished my designs<br />
+On Bertran and the queen; but in despite,<br />
+Even of himself, I'll save him.<span class="sdr">[Aside and exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> 'Tis but a moment since I have been king,<br />
+And weary on't already; I'm a lover,<br />
+And loved, possess,&mdash;yet all these make me wretched;<br />
+And heaven has given me blessings for a curse.<br />
+With what a load of vengeance am I prest,<br />
+Yet, never, never, can I hope for rest;<br />
+For when my heavy burden I remove,<br />
+The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A Bed-Chamber.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Love, justice, nature, pity, and revenge,<br />
+Have kindled up a wildfire in my breast,<br />
+And I am all a civil war within!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Queen and <span class="cnm">Teresa,</span> at a distance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">My Leonora there!&mdash;<br />
+Mine! is she mine? my father's murderer mine?<br />
+O! that I could, with honour, love her more,<br />
+Or hate her less, with reason!&mdash;See, she weeps!<br />
+Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why<br />
+I thus estrange my person from her bed!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">463</span><a id="page_463" name="page_463"></a>
+Shall I not tell her?&mdash;no; 'twill break her heart;<br />
+She'll know too soon her own and my misfortunes.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> He's gone, and I am lost; did'st thou not see<br />
+His sullen eyes? how gloomily they glanced?<br />
+He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Can you not guess from whence this change proceeds?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> No: there's the grief, Teresa: Oh, Teresa!<br />
+Fain would I tell thee what I feel within,<br />
+But shame and modesty have tied my tongue!<br />
+Yet, I will tell, that thou may'st weep with me.&mdash;<br />
+How dear, how sweet his first embraces were!<br />
+With what a zeal he joined his lips to mine!<br />
+And sucked my breath at every word I spoke,<br />
+As if he drew his inspiration hence:<br />
+While both our souls came upward to our mouths,<br />
+As neighbouring monarchs at their borders meet;<br />
+I thought&mdash;Oh, no; 'tis false! I could not think;<br />
+'Twas neither life nor death, but both in one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Then, sure his transports were not less than yours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> More, more! for, by the high-hung tapers' light,<br />
+I could discern his cheeks were glowing red,<br />
+His very eyeballs trembled with his love,<br />
+And sparkled through their casements humid fires;<br />
+He sighed, and kissed; breathed short, and would have spoke,<br />
+But was too fierce to throw away the time;<br />
+All he could say was&mdash;love and Leonora.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> How then can you suspect him lost so soon?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Last night he flew not with a bridegroom's haste,<br />
+Which eagerly prevents the appointed hour:<br />
+I told the clocks, and watched the wasting light,<br />
+And listened to each softly-treading step,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">464</span><a id="page_464" name="page_464"></a>
+In hope 'twas he; but still it was not he.<br />
+At last he came, but with such altered looks,<br />
+So wild, so ghastly, as if some ghost had met him:<br />
+All pale, and speechless, he surveyed me round;<br />
+Then, with a groan, he threw himself a-bed,<br />
+But, far from me, as far as he could move,<br />
+And sighed and tossed, and turned, but still from me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> What, all the night?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Even all the livelong night.<br />
+At last, (for, blushing, I must tell thee all,)<br />
+I pressed his hand, and laid me by his side;<br />
+He pulled it back, as if he touched a serpent.<br />
+With that I burst into a flood of tears,<br />
+And asked him how I had offended him?<br />
+He answered nothing, but with sighs and groans;<br />
+So, restless, past the night; and, at the dawn,<br />
+Leapt from the bed, and vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> Sighs and groans,<br />
+Paleness and trembling, all are signs of love;<br />
+He only fears to make you share his sorrows.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I wish 'twere so; but love still doubts the worst;<br />
+My heavy heart, the prophetess of woes,<br />
+Forebodes some ill at hand: to sooth my sadness,<br />
+Sing me the song, which poor Olympia made,<br />
+When false Bireno left her.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>SONG.</h4>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Farewell, ungrateful traitor!</p>
+<p class="i1">Farewell, my perjured swain!</p>
+<p>Let never injured creature</p>
+<p class="i1">Believe a man again.</p>
+<p>The pleasure of possessing</p>
+<p>Surpasses all expressing,</p>
+<p>But 'tis too short a blessing,</p>
+<p class="i1">And love too long a pain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<span class="pgnm">465</span><a id="page_465" name="page_465"></a>
+<p>'Tis easy to deceive us,</p>
+<p class="i1">In pity of your pain;</p>
+<p>But when we love, you leave us,</p>
+<p class="i1">To rail at you in vain.</p>
+<p>Before we have descried it,</p>
+<p>There is no bliss beside it;</p>
+<p>But she, that once has tried it,</p>
+<p class="i1">Will never love again.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>The passion you pretended,</p>
+<p class="i1">Was only to obtain;</p>
+<p>But when the charm is ended,</p>
+<p class="i1">The charmer you disdain.</p>
+<p>Your love by ours we measure,</p>
+<p>Till we have lost our treasure;</p>
+<p>But dying is a pleasure,</p>
+<p class="i1">When living is a pain.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Still she is here, and still I cannot speak;<br />
+But wander, like some discontented ghost,<br />
+That oft appears, but is forbid to talk.<span class="sdr">[Going again.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> O, Torrismond, if you resolve my death,<br />
+You need no more, but to go hence again;<br />
+Will you not speak?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I cannot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Speak! oh, speak!<br />
+Your anger would be kinder than your silence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Oh!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Why do I live, ye powers!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Why do I live to hear you speak that word?<br />
+Some black-mouthed villain has defamed my virtue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> No, no! Pray, let me go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling.</span>] You shall not go!<br />
+<span class="pgnm">466</span><a id="page_466" name="page_466"></a>
+By all the pleasures of our nuptial bed,<br />
+If ever I was loved, though now I'm not,<br />
+By these true tears, which, from my wounded heart,<br />
+Bleed at my eyes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Rise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I will never rise;<br />
+I cannot chuse a better place to die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Oh! I would speak, but cannot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> [<span class="sdm">Rising.</span>]<br />
+Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not:<br />
+What have I done, ye powers, what have I done,<br />
+To see my youth, my beauty, and my love,<br />
+No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed;<br />
+And, like a rose, just gathered from the stalk,<br />
+But only smelt, and cheaply thrown aside,<br />
+To wither on the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ter.</span> For heaven's sake, madam, moderate your passion!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Why namest thou heaven? there is no heaven for me.<br />
+Despair, death, hell, have seized my tortured soul!<br />
+When I had raised his grovelling fate from ground,<br />
+To power and love, to empire, and to me;<br />
+When each embrace was dearer than the first;<br />
+Then, then to be contemned; then, then thrown off!<br />
+It calls me old, and withered, and deformed,<br />
+And loathsome! Oh! what woman can bear loathsome?<br />
+The turtle flies not from his billing mate,<br />
+He bills the closer; but, ungrateful man,<br />
+Base, barbarous man! the more we raise our love,<br />
+The more we pall, and kill, and cool his ardour.<br />
+Racks, poison, daggers, rid me of my life;<br />
+And any death is welcome.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Be witness all ye powers, that know my heart,<br />
+I would have kept the fatal secret hid;<br />
+But she has conquered, to her ruin conquered:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">467</span><a id="page_467" name="page_467"></a>
+Here, take this paper, read our destinies;&mdash;<br />
+Yet do not; but, in kindness to yourself,<br />
+Be ignorantly safe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> No! give it me,<br />
+Even though it be the sentence of my death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Then see how much unhappy love has made us.<br />
+O Leonora! Oh!<br />
+We two were born when sullen planets reigned;<br />
+When each the other's influence opposed,<br />
+And drew the stars to factions at our birth.<br />
+Oh! better, better had it been for us,<br />
+That we had never seen, or never loved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> There is no faith in heaven, if heaven says so;<br />
+You dare not give it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> As unwillingly,<br />
+As I would reach out opium to a friend,<br />
+Who lay in torture, and desired to die.<span class="sdr">[Gives the Paper.</span><br />
+But now you have it, spare my sight the pain<br />
+Of seeing what a world of tears it costs you.<br />
+Go, silently, enjoy your part of grief,<br />
+And share the sad inheritance with me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> I have a thirsty fever in my soul;<br />
+Give me but present ease, and let me die.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Queen and <span class="cnm">Teresa.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Arm, arm, my lord! the city bands are up;<br />
+Drums beating, colours flying, shouts confused;<br />
+All clustering in a heap, like swarming hives,<br />
+And rising in a moment.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> With design to punish Bertran, and revenge the king;<br />
+'Twas ordered so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Then you're betrayed, my lord.<br />
+'Tis true, they block the castle kept by Bertran,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">468</span><a id="page_468" name="page_468"></a>
+But now they cry, "Down with the palace, fire it,<br />
+Pull out the usurping queen!"</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> The queen, Lorenzo! durst they name the queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> If railing and reproaching be to name her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O sacrilege! say quickly, who commands<br />
+This vile blaspheming rout?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I'm loth to tell you;<br />
+But both our fathers thrust them headlong on,<br />
+And bear down all before them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Death and hell!<br />
+Somewhat must be resolved, and speedily.<br />
+How say'st thou, my Lorenzo? dar'st thou be<br />
+A friend, and once forget thou art a son,<br />
+To help me save the queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Let me consider:&mdash;<br />
+Bear arms against my father? he begat me;&mdash;<br />
+That's true; but for whose sake did he beget me?<br />
+For his own, sure enough: for me he knew not.<br />
+Oh! but says conscience,&mdash;Fly in nature's face?&mdash;<br />
+But how, if nature fly in my face first?<br />
+Then nature's the aggressor; let her look to't.&mdash;<br />
+He gave me life, and he may take it back:<br />
+No, that's boys' play, say I.<br />
+'Tis policy for a son and father to take different sides:<br />
+For then, lands and tenements commit no treason.<br />
+[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Tor.</span></span>] Sir, upon mature consideration, I have
+found my father to be little better than a rebel, and
+therefore, I'll do my best to secure him, for your
+sake; in hope, you may secure him hereafter for my
+sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Put on thy utmost speed to head the troops,<br />
+Which every moment I expect to arrive;<br />
+Proclaim me, as I am, the lawful king:<br />
+I need not caution thee for Raymond's life,<br />
+Though I no more must call him father now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] How! not call him father? I see
+<span class="pgnm">469</span><a id="page_469" name="page_469"></a>
+preferment alters a man strangely; this may serve
+me for a use of instruction, to cast off my father
+when I am great. Methought too, he called himself
+the lawful king; intimating sweetly, that he
+knows what's what with our sovereign lady:&mdash;Well
+if I rout my father, as I hope in heaven I
+shall, I am in a fair way to be the prince of the
+blood.&mdash;Farewell, general; I will bring up those that
+shall try what mettle there is in orange tawny.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> [<span class="sdm">At the Door.</span>]<br />
+Haste there; command the guards be all drawn up<br />
+Before the palace-gate.&mdash;By heaven, I'll face<br />
+This tempest, and deserve the name of king!<br />
+O Leonora, beauteous in thy crimes,<br />
+Never were hell and heaven so matched before!<br />
+Look upward, fair, but as thou look'st on me;<br />
+<span class="i1">Then all the blest will beg, that thou may'st live,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And even my father's ghost his death forgive.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>The Palace-Yard. Drums and Trumpets
+within.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Raymond, Alphonso, Pedro,</span> and their
+Party.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Now, valiant citizens, the time is come,<br />
+To show your courage, and your loyalty.<br />
+You have a prince of Sancho's royal blood,<br />
+The darling of the heavens, and joy of earth;<br />
+When he's produced, as soon he shall, among you,<br />
+Speak, what will you adventure to reseat him<br />
+Upon his father's throne?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Omn.</span> Our lives and fortunes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> What then remains to perfect our success;<br />
+But o'er the tyrant's guards to force our way?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">470</span><a id="page_470" name="page_470"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Omn.</span> Lead on, lead on.
+<span class="sdr">[Drums and Trumpets on the other side.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond</span> and his Party: As they are going
+to fight, he speaks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To his.</span>] Hold, hold your arms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<span class="sdm">To his.</span>] Retire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> What means this pause?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Peace; nature works within them.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Alph.</span> and <span class="cnm">Ped.</span> go apart.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> How comes it, good old man, that we two meet<br />
+On these harsh terms? thou very reverend rebel;<br />
+Thou venerable traitor, in whose face<br />
+And hoary hairs treason is sanctified,<br />
+And sin's black dye seems blanched by age to virtue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> What treason is it to redeem my king,<br />
+And to reform the state?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> That's a stale cheat;<br />
+The primitive rebel, Lucifer, first used it,<br />
+And was the first reformer of the skies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> What, if I see my prince mistake a poison,<br />
+Call it a cordial,&mdash;am I then a traitor,<br />
+Because I hold his hand, or break the glass?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> How darest thou serve thy king against his will?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Because 'tis then the only time to serve him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I take the blame of all upon myself;<br />
+Discharge thy weight on me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> O never, never!<br />
+Why, 'tis to leave a ship, tossed in a tempest,<br />
+Without the pilot's care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I'll punish thee;<br />
+By heaven, I will, as I would punish rebels,<br />
+Thou stubborn loyal man!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> First let me see<br />
+<span class="pgnm">471</span><a id="page_471" name="page_471"></a>
+Her punished, who misleads you from your fame;<br />
+Then burn me, hack me, hew me into pieces,<br />
+And I shall die well pleased.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Proclaim my title,<br />
+To save the effusion of my subjects' blood; and thou shalt still<br />
+Be as my foster-father near my breast,<br />
+And next my Leonora.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> That word stabs me.<br />
+You shall be still plain Torrismond with me;<br />
+The abettor, partner, (if you like that name,)<br />
+The husband of a tyrant; but no king,<br />
+Till you deserve that title by your justice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Then farewell, pity; I will be obeyed.&mdash;<br />
+[<i>To the People.</i>] Hear, you mistaken men, whose loyalty<br />
+Runs headlong into treason: See your prince!<br />
+In me behold your murdered Sancho's son;<br />
+Dismiss your arms, and I forgive your crimes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Believe him not; he raves; his words are loose<br />
+As heaps of sand, and scattering wide from sense.<br />
+You see he knows not me, his natural father;<br />
+But, aiming to possess the usurping queen,<br />
+So high he's mounted in his airy hopes,<br />
+That now the wind is got into his head,<br />
+And turns his brains to frenzy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Hear me yet; I am&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Fall on, fall on, and hear him not;<br />
+But spare his person, for his father's sake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Let me come; if he be mad, I have that
+shall cure him. There's no surgeon in all Arragon
+has so much dexterity as I have at breathing
+of the temple-vein.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> My right for me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Our liberty for us!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Omn.</span> Liberty, liberty!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="pgnm">472</span><a id="page_472" name="page_472"></a>
+As they are ready to Fight, enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> and his
+Party.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> On forfeit of your lives, lay down your arms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> How, rebel, art thou there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> Take your rebel back again, father mine:
+The beaten party are rebels to the conquerors. I
+have been at hard-head with your butting citizens;
+I have routed your herd; I have dispersed them;
+and now they are retreated quietly, from their extraordinary
+vocation of fighting in the streets, to
+their ordinary vocation of cozening in their shops.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Raym.</span></span>]<br />
+You see 'tis vain contending with the truth;<br />
+Acknowledge what I am.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> You are my king;&mdash;would you would be your own!<br />
+But, by a fatal fondness, you betray<br />
+Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed.<br />
+Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide,<br />
+Take your own crown from Leonora's gift,<br />
+And hug your father's murderer in your arms!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Queen, <span class="cnm">Teresa,</span> and Women.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> No more; behold the queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Behold the basilisk of Torrismond,<br />
+That kills him with her eyes&mdash;I will speak on;<br />
+My life is of no farther use to me:<br />
+I would have chaffered it before for vengeance;<br />
+Now let it go for failing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> My heart sinks in me while I hear him speak,<br />
+And every slackened fibre drops its hold,<br />
+Like nature letting down the springs of life;<br />
+So much the name of father awes me still&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+Send off the crowd; for you, now I have conquered,<br />
+I can hear with honour your demands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">473</span><a id="page_473" name="page_473"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lor.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Alph.</span></span>] Now, sir, who proves the traitor?
+My conscience is true to me; it always whispers
+right, when I have my regiment to back it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Lor. Alph. Ped.</span> &amp;c.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> O Leonora, what can love do more?<br />
+I have opposed your ill fate to the utmost;<br />
+Combated heaven and earth to keep you mine;<br />
+And yet at last that tyrant justice! Oh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> 'Tis past, 'tis past, and love is ours no more;<br />
+Yet I complain not of the powers above;<br />
+They made me a miser's feast of happiness,<br />
+And could not furnish out another meal.<br />
+Now, by yon stars, by heaven, and earth, and men,<br />
+By all my foes at once, I swear, my Torrismond,<br />
+That to have had you mine for one short day,<br />
+Has cancelled half my mighty sum of woes!<br />
+Say but you hate me not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> I cannot hate you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Can you not? say that once more,<br />
+That all the saints may witness it against you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Cruel Raymond!<br />
+Can he not punish me, but he must hate?<br />
+O, 'tis not justice, but a brutal rage,<br />
+Which hates the offender's person with his crimes!<br />
+I have enough to overwhelm one woman,<br />
+To lose a crown and lover in a day:<br />
+Let pity lend a tear, when rigour strikes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Then, then you should have thought of tears and pity,<br />
+When virtue, majesty, and hoary age,<br />
+Pleaded for Sancho's life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> My future days shall be one whole contrition:<br />
+A chapel will I build, with large endowment,<br />
+Where every day an hundred aged men<br />
+Shall all hold up their withered hands to heaven,<br />
+To pardon Sancho's death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> See, Raymond, see; she makes a large amends:<br />
+<span class="pgnm">474</span><a id="page_474" name="page_474"></a>
+Sancho is dead; no punishment of her<br />
+Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark grave;<br />
+Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,<br />
+Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest,<br />
+To see, with joy, her miseries on earth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Heaven may forgive a crime to penitence,<br />
+For heaven can judge if penitence be true;<br />
+But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples<br />
+Which, like a warning piece, must be shot off,<br />
+To fright the rest from crimes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Had I but known that Sancho was his father,<br />
+I would have poured a deluge of my blood,<br />
+To save one drop of his.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Mark that, inexorable Raymond, mark!<br />
+'Twas fatal ignorance, that caused his death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> What! if she did not know he was your father,<br />
+She knew he was a man, the best of men;<br />
+Heaven's image double-stamped, as man and king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> He was, he was, even more than you can say;<br />
+But yet&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> But yet you barbarously murdered him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> He will not hear me out!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Was ever criminal forbid to plead?<br />
+Curb your ill-mannered zeal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Sing to him, syren;<br />
+For I shall stop my ears: Now mince the sin,<br />
+And mollify damnation with a phrase;<br />
+Say, you consented not to Sancho's death,<br />
+But barely not forbade it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Hard-hearted man, I yield my guilty cause;<br />
+But all my guilt was caused by too much love.<br />
+Had I, for jealousy of empire, sought<br />
+Good Sancho's death, Sancho had died before.<br />
+'Twas always in my power to take his life;<br />
+But interest never could my conscience blind,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">475</span><a id="page_475" name="page_475"></a>
+Till love had cast a mist before my eyes,<br />
+And made me think his death the only means<br />
+Which could secure my throne to Torrismond.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Never was fatal mischief meant so kind,<br />
+For all she gave has taken all away.<br />
+Malicious powers! is this to be restored?<br />
+'Tis to be worse deposed than Sancho was.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Heaven has restored you, you depose yourself.<br />
+Oh, when young kings begin with scorn of justice,<br />
+They make an omen to their after reign,<br />
+And blot their annals in the foremost page.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> No more; lest you be made the first example,<br />
+To show how I can punish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Once again:<br />
+Let her be made your father's sacrifice,<br />
+And after make me hers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Condemn a wife!<br />
+That were to atone for parricide with murder.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Then let her be divorced: we'll be content<br />
+With that poor scanty justice; let her part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Divorce! that's worse than death, 'tis death of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> The soul and body part not with such pain,<br />
+As I from you; but yet 'tis just, my lord:<br />
+I am the accurst of heaven, the hate of earth,<br />
+Your subjects' detestation, and your ruin;<br />
+And therefore fix this doom upon myself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Heaven! Can you wish it, to be mine no more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Yes, I can wish it, as the dearest proof,<br />
+And last, that I can make you of my love.<br />
+To leave you blest, I would be more accurst<br />
+Than death can make me; for death ends our woes,<br />
+And the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene:<br />
+But I would live without you, to be wretched long;<br />
+And hoard up every moment of my life,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">476</span><a id="page_476" name="page_476"></a>
+To lengthen out the payment of my tears,<br />
+Till even fierce Raymond, at the last, shall say,&mdash;<br />
+Now let her die, for she has grieved enough.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Hear this, hear this, thou tribune of the people!<br />
+Thou zealous, public blood-hound, hear, and melt!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]<br />
+I could cry now; my eyes grow womanish,<br />
+But yet my heart holds out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> Some solitary cloister will I chuse,<br />
+And there with holy virgins live immured:<br />
+Coarse my attire, and short shall be my sleep,<br />
+Broke by the melancholy midnight bell.<br />
+Now, Raymond, now be satisfied at last:<br />
+Fasting and tears, and penitence and prayer,<br />
+Shall do dead Sancho justice every hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<i>Aside.</i>] By your leave, manhood!
+<span class="sdr">[Wipes his eyes.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> He weeps! now he is vanquished.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> No: 'tis a salt rheum, that scalds my eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> If he were vanquished, I am still unconquered.<br />
+I'll leave you in the height of all my love,<br />
+Even when my heart is beating out its way,<br />
+And struggles to you most.<br />
+Farewell, a last farewell, my dear, dear lord!<br />
+Remember me!&mdash;speak, Raymond, will you let him?<br />
+Shall he remember Leonora's love,<br />
+And shed a parting tear to her misfortunes?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> [<span class="sdm">Almost crying.</span>] Yes, yes, he shall; pray go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Now, by my soul, she shall not go: why, Raymond,<br />
+Her every tear is worth a father's life.<br />
+Come to my arms, come, my fair penitent!<br />
+Let us not think what future ills may fall.<br />
+But drink deep draughts of love, and lose them all.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Tor.</span> with the Queen.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> No matter yet, he has my hook within him.<br />
+Now let him frisk and flounce, and run and roll,<br />
+<span class="pgnm">477</span><a id="page_477" name="page_477"></a>
+And think to break his hold; he toils in vain.<br />
+This love, the bait he gorged so greedily,<br />
+Will make him sick, and then I have him sure.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alphonso</span> and <span class="cnm">Pedro.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Brother, there's news from Bertran; he desires<br />
+Admittance to the king, and cries aloud,&mdash;<br />
+This day shall end our fears of civil war!&mdash;<br />
+For his safe conduct he entreats your presence,<br />
+And begs you would be speedy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Though I loath<br />
+The traitor's sight, I'll go. Attend us here.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Gomez, Elvira, Dominick,</span> with Officers,
+to make the Stage as full as possible.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Why, how now, Gomez? what mak'st thou
+here, with a whole brotherhood of city-bailiffs? Why,
+thou look'st like Adam in Paradise, with his guard
+of beasts about him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, and a man had need of them, Don Pedro;
+for here are the two old seducers, a wife and
+priest,&mdash;that's Eve and the serpent,&mdash;at my elbow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Take notice how uncharitably he talks of
+churchmen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Indeed, you are a charitable belswagger!
+My wife cried out,&mdash;"Fire, fire!" and you brought
+out your church-buckets, and called for engines to
+play against it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> I am sorry you are come hither to accuse
+your wife; her education has been virtuous, her
+nature mild and easy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Yes! she's easy, with a vengeance; there's
+a certain colonel has found her so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> She came a spotless virgin to your bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> And she's a spotless virgin still for me&mdash;she's
+<span class="pgnm">478</span><a id="page_478" name="page_478"></a>
+never the worse for my wearing, I'll take my
+oath on't. I have lived with her with all the innocence
+of a man of threescore, like a peaceable bed-fellow
+as I am.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> Indeed, sir, I have no reason to complain
+of him for disturbing of my sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> A fine commendation you have given yourself;
+the church did not marry you for that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Come, come, your grievances, your grievances.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Why, noble sir, I'll tell you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Peace, friar! and let me speak first. I
+am the plaintiff. Sure you think you are in the
+pulpit, where you preach by hours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> And you edify by minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Where you make doctrines for the people,
+and uses and applications for yourselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> Gomez, give way to the old gentleman in
+black.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> No! the t'other old gentleman in black
+shall take me if I do; I will speak first!&mdash;Nay, I will,
+friar, for all your <i>verbum sacerdotis</i>. I'll speak
+truth in few words, and then you may come afterwards
+and lie by the clock as you use to do.&mdash;For,
+let me tell you, gentlemen, he shall lie and forswear
+himself with any friar in all Spain; that's a bold
+word now.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Let him alone; let him alone; I shall fetch
+him back with a <i>circum-bendibus</i>, I warrant him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Well, what have you to say against your
+wife, Gomez?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, I say, in the first place, that I and
+all men are married for our sins, and that our wives
+are a judgment; that a batchelor-cobler is a happier
+man than a prince in wedlock; that we are all visited
+<span class="pgnm">479</span><a id="page_479" name="page_479"></a>
+with a household plague, and, <i>Lord have mercy
+upon us</i> should be written on all our doors<a class="ftnt" href="#Spani_4-2">[2]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Now he reviles marriage, which is one of
+the seven blessed sacraments.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> 'Tis liker one of the seven deadly sins: but
+make your best on't, I care not; 'tis but binding a
+man neck and heels, for all that. But, as for my
+wife, that crocodile of Nilus, she has wickedly and
+traitorously conspired the cuckoldom of me, her anointed
+sovereign lord; and, with the help of the
+aforesaid friar, whom heaven confound, and with
+the limbs of one colonel Hernando, cuckold-maker
+of this city, devilishly contrived to steal herself
+away, and under her arm feloniously to bear one
+casket of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels, to the
+value of 30,000 pistoles.&mdash;Guilty, or not guilty?
+how sayest thou, culprit?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> False and scandalous! Give me the book.
+I'll take my corporal oath point-blank against every
+particular of this charge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> And so will I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> As I was walking in the streets, telling
+my beads, and praying to myself, according to my
+usual custom, I heard a foul out-cry before Gomez'
+portal; and his wife, my penitent, making doleful
+lamentations: thereupon, making what haste my
+limbs would suffer me, that are crippled with often
+kneeling, I saw him spurning and listing her most
+unmercifully; whereupon, using Christian arguments
+with him to desist, he fell violently upon
+me, without respect to my sacerdotal orders, pushed
+me from him, and turned me about with a finger
+<span class="pgnm">480</span><a id="page_480" name="page_480"></a>
+and a thumb, just as a man would set up a top.
+Mercy! quoth I.&mdash;Damme! quoth he;&mdash;and still
+continued labouring me, until a good-minded colonel
+came by, whom, as heaven shall save me, I had
+never seen before.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> O Lord! O Lord!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Ay, and O lady! O lady too!&mdash;I redouble
+my oath, I had never seen him. Well, this noble
+colonel, like a true gentleman, was for taking the
+weaker part, you may be sure; whereupon this Gomez
+flew upon him like a dragon, got him down,
+the devil being strong in him, and gave him bastinado
+upon bastinado, and buffet upon buffet, which
+the poor meek colonel, being prostrate, suffered
+with a most Christian patience.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Who? he meek? I'm sure I quake at the
+very thought of him; why, he's as fierce as Rhodomont;
+he made assault and battery upon my person,
+beat me into all the colours of the rainbow;
+and every word this abominable priest has uttered
+is as false as the Alcoran. But if you want a thorough-paced
+liar, that will swear through thick and thin,
+commend me to a friar.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lorenzo,</span> who comes behind the Company, and
+stands at his Fathers back unseen, over-against
+<span class="cnm">Gomez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> How now! What's here to do? my cause
+a trying, as I live, and that before my own father.&mdash;Now
+fourscore take him for an old bawdy magistrate,
+that stands like the picture of madam Justice,
+with a pair of scales in his hand, to weigh lechery
+by ounces!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Well&mdash;but all this while, who is this colonel
+Hernando?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">481</span><a id="page_481" name="page_481"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Gom.</span> He's the first begotten of Beelzebub, with
+a face as terrible as Demogorgon.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> peeps over <span class="cnm">Alphonso's</span> Head,
+and stares at <span class="cnm">Gomez.</span></span><br /><br />
+No! I lie, I lie. He's a very proper handsome fellow!
+well proportioned, and clean shaped, with a face
+like a cherubin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> What, backward and forward, Gomez!
+dost thou hunt counter?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Had this colonel any former design upon
+your wife? for, if that be proved, you shall have
+justice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Now I dare speak,&mdash;let him look
+as dreadfully as he will.&mdash;I say, sir, and I will prove
+it, that he had a lewd design upon her body, and
+attempted to corrupt her honesty.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> lifts up his fist clenched at him.</span><br />
+I confess my wife was as willing&mdash;as himself;
+and, I believe, 'twas she corrupted him; for I have
+known him formerly a very civil and modest person.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> You see, sir, he contradicts himself at every
+word; he's plainly mad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> Speak boldly, man! and say what thou
+wilt stand by: did he strike thee?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> I will speak boldly; he struck me on the
+face before my own threshold, that the very walls
+cried shame to him.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> holds up again.</span><br />
+'Tis true, I gave him provocation, for the man's
+as peaceable a gentleman as any is in all Spain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Now the truth comes out, in spite of him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ped.</span> I believe the friar has bewitched him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> For my part, I see no wrong that has been
+offered him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> How? no wrong? why, he ravished me,
+with the help of two soldiers, carried me away <i>vi et
+<span class="pgnm">482</span><a id="page_482" name="page_482"></a>
+armis,</i> and would put me into a plot against government.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lorenzo</span> holds up again.</span><br />
+I confess, I never could endure the government,
+because it was tyrannical; but my sides and shoulders
+are black and blue, as I can strip and show the marks
+of them.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[LORENZO again.</span><br />
+But that might happen, too, by a fall that I got
+yesterday upon the pebbles.<span class="sdr">[All laugh.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Fresh straw, and a dark chamber; a most
+manifest judgment! there never comes better of railing
+against the church.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, what will you have me say? I think
+you'll make me mad: truth has been at my tongue's
+end this half hour, and I have not power to bring it
+out, for fear of this bloody-minded colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> What colonel?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, my colonel&mdash;I mean my wife's colonel,
+that appears there to me like my <i>malus genius</i>,
+terrifies me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> [<span class="sdm">Turning.</span>] Now you are mad indeed, Gomez;
+this is my son Lorenzo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> How? your son Lorenzo! it is impossible.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> As true as your wife Elvira is my daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What, have I taken all this pains about a
+sister?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> No, you have taken some about me; I am
+sure, if you are her brother, my sides can show the
+tokens of our alliance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> to <i>Lor.</i> You know I put your sister into
+a nunnery, with a strict command not to see you,
+for fear you should have wrought upon her to have
+taken the habit, which was never my intention;
+and consequently, I married her without your knowledge,
+that it might not be in your power to prevent
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> You see, brother, I had a natural affection
+to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="pgnm">483</span><a id="page_483" name="page_483"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lor.</span> What a delicious harlot have I lost! Now,
+pox upon me, for being so near a-kin to thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Elv.</span> However, we are both beholden to friar Dominick;
+the church is an indulgent mother, she
+never fails to do her part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Heavens! what will become of me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Why, you are not like to trouble heaven;
+those fat guts were never made for mounting.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lor.</span> I shall make bold to disburden him of my
+hundred pistoles, to make him the lighter for his
+journey: indeed, 'tis partly out of conscience, that
+I may not be accessory to his breaking his vow of
+poverty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alph.</span> I have no secular power to reward the pains
+you have taken with my daughter; but I shall do
+it by proxy, friar: your bishop's my friend, and is
+too honest to let such as you infect a cloister.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gom.</span> Ay, do, father-in-law, let him be stript of
+his habit, and disordered.&mdash;I would fain see him
+walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit, without his holy
+fur upon his back, that the world may once behold
+the inside of a friar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dom.</span> Farewell, kind gentlemen; I give you all
+my blessing before I go.&mdash;May your sisters, wives,
+and daughters, be so naturally lewd, that they
+may have no occasion for a devil to tempt, or a
+friar to pimp for them.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt, with a rabble pushing him.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Torrismond, Leonora, Bertran, Raymond,
+Teresa,</span> &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> He lives! he lives! my royal father lives!<br />
+Let every one partake the general joy.<br />
+Some angel with a golden trumpet sound,<br />
+King Sancho lives! and let the echoing skies<br />
+From pole to pole resound, king Sancho lives!&mdash;<br />
+Bertran, oh! no more my foe, but brother;<br />
+<span class="pgnm">484</span><a id="page_484" name="page_484"></a>
+One act like this blots out a thousand crimes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> Bad men, when 'tis their interest, may do good.<br />
+I must confess, I counselled Sancho's murder;<br />
+And urged the queen by specious arguments:<br />
+But, still suspecting that her love was changed,<br />
+I spread abroad the rumour of his death,<br />
+To sound the very soul of her designs.<br />
+The event, you know, was answering to my fears;<br />
+She threw the odium of the fact on me,<br />
+And publicly avowed her love to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raym.</span> Heaven guided all, to save the innocent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Bert.</span> I plead no merit, but a bare forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Not only that, but favour. Sancho's life,<br />
+Whether by virtue or design preserved,<br />
+Claims all within my power.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Leo.</span> My prayers are heard;<br />
+And I have nothing farther to desire,<br />
+But Sancho's leave to authorise our marriage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tor.</span> Oh! fear not him! pity and he are one;<br />
+So merciful a king did never live;<br />
+Loth to revenge, and easy to forgive.<br />
+<span class="i1">But let the bold conspirator beware,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">For heaven makes princes its peculiar care.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Spani_4-1" name="Spani_4-1"></a>Alluding to the common superstition, that the continuance
+of the favours of fairies depends upon the receiver's secrecy:&mdash;"This
+is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it
+close; home, home, the nearest way. We are lucky, boy, and, to
+be so still, requires nothing but secrecy;" <i>Winter's Tale.</i></li>
+
+<li><a id="Spani_4-2" name="Spani_4-2"></a>A red cross, with the words, "Lord have mercy upon us,"
+was placed, during the great plague, upon the houses visited by the
+disease.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><span class="pgnm">485</span><a id="page_485" name="page_485"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.<br />
+BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>There's none, I'm sure, who is a friend to love,</p>
+<p>But will our Friar's character approve:</p>
+<p>The ablest spark among you sometimes needs</p>
+<p>Such pious help, for charitable deeds.</p>
+<p>Our church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want</p>
+<p>These ghostly comforts for the falling saint:</p>
+<p>This gains them their whore-converts, and may be</p>
+<p>One reason of the growth of popery.</p>
+<p>So Mahomet's religion came in fashion,</p>
+<p>By the large leave it gave to fornication.</p>
+<p>Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well;</p>
+<p>There is no Dives in the Roman Hell:</p>
+<p>Gold opens the strait gate, and lets him in;</p>
+<p>But want of money is a mortal sin.</p>
+<p>For all besides you may discount to heaven,</p>
+<p>And drop a bead to keep the tallies even.</p>
+<p>How are men cozened still with shows of good!</p>
+<p>The bawd's best mask is the grave friar's hood;</p>
+<p>Though vice no more a clergyman displeases,</p>
+<p>Than doctors can be thought to hate diseases.</p>
+<p>'Tis by your living ill, that they live well,</p>
+<p>By your debauches, their fat paunches swell.</p>
+<p>'Tis a mock-war between the priest and devil;</p>
+<p>When they think fit, they can be very civil.</p>
+<p>As some, who did French counsels most advance,</p>
+<p>To blind the world, have railed in print at France,</p>
+<p>Thus do the clergy at your vices bawl,</p>
+<p>That with more ease they may engross them all.</p>
+<p>By damning yours, they do their own maintain;</p>
+<p>A churchman's godliness is always gain:</p>
+<p>Hence to their prince they will superior be;</p>
+<p>And civil treason grows church loyalty.</p>
+<p>They boast the gift of heaven is in their power;</p>
+<p>Well may they give the god, they can devour!</p>
+<p><span class="pgnm">486</span><a id="page_486" name="page_486"></a>
+Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay;</p>
+<p>For 'tis on carrion that the vermin prey.</p>
+<p>Nor have they less dominion on our life,</p>
+<p>They trot the husband, and they pace the wife.</p>
+<p>Rouse up, you cuckolds of the northern climes,</p>
+<p>And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes.</p>
+<p>Unman the Friar, and leave the holy drone</p>
+<p>To hum in his forsaken hive alone;</p>
+<p>He'll work no honey, when his sting is gone.</p>
+<p>Your wives and daughters soon will leave the cells,</p>
+<p>When they have lost the sound of Aaron's bells.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3>END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Edinburgh,<br />
+Printed by J. Ballantyne &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+Project Gutenberg's The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18), by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18)
+       Limberham; Oedipus; Troilus and Cressida; The Spanish Friar
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott
+
+Release Date: August 6, 2005 [EBook #16456]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                                WORKS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                             JOHN DRYDEN,
+
+                         NOW FIRST COLLECTED
+
+                        _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._
+
+
+
+                             ILLUSTRATED
+
+                             WITH NOTES,
+
+                HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY;
+
+                                 AND
+
+                        A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,
+
+                                  BY
+
+                          WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.
+
+
+
+                               VOL. VI.
+
+                               LONDON:
+
+            PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,
+
+                BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.
+
+
+                                1808.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            VOLUME SIXTH.
+
+Limberham, or the Kind Keeper, a Comedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Vaughan
+
+
+OEdipus, a Tragedy
+        Preface
+
+
+Troilus and Cressida, or Truth found too late, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Sunderland
+        Preface
+
+
+The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Haughton
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                           THE KIND KEEPER.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               COMEDY.
+
+
+      [Greek: Ken me phages epi rhizan, homos eti karpophoreso.
+                                   Anthologia Dentera.]
+
+
+           _Hic nuptarum insanit amoribus; hic meretricum:
+             Omnes hi metuunt versus; odere poetas._
+                                   HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM.
+
+
+The extreme indelicacy of this play would, in the present times
+furnish ample and most just grounds for the unfavourable reception it
+met with from the public. But in the reign of Charles II. many plays
+were applauded, in which the painting is, at least, as coarse as that
+of Dryden. "Bellamira, or the Mistress," a gross translation by Sir
+Charles Sedley of Terence's "Eunuchus," had been often represented
+with the highest approbation. But the satire of Dryden was rather
+accounted too personal, than too loose. The character of Limberham has
+been supposed to represent Lauderdale, whose age and uncouth figure
+rendered ridiculous his ungainly affectation of fashionable vices. Mr
+Malone intimates a suspicion, that Shaftesbury was the person levelled
+at, whose lameness and infirmities made the satire equally poignant.
+In either supposition, a powerful and leading nobleman was offended,
+to whose party all seem to have drawn, whose loose conduct, in that
+loose age, exposed them to be duped like the hero of the play. It is a
+singular mark of the dissolute manners of those times, that an
+audience, to whom matrimonial infidelity was nightly held out, not
+only as the most venial of trespasses, but as a matter of triumphant
+applause, were unable to brook any ridicule, upon the mere transitory
+connection formed betwixt the keeper and his mistress. Dryden had
+spared neither kind of union; and accordingly his opponents exclaimed,
+"That he lampooned the court, to oblige his friends in the city, and
+ridiculed the city, to secure a promising lord at court; exposed the
+kind keepers of Covent Garden, to please the cuckolds of Cheapside;
+and drolled on the city Do-littles, to tickle the Covent-Garden
+Limberhams[1]." Even Langbaine, relentless as he is in criticism,
+seems to have considered the condemnation of Limberham as the
+vengeance of the faction ridiculed.
+
+"In this play, (which I take to be the best comedy of his) he so much
+exposed the keeping part of the town, that the play was stopt when it
+had but thrice appeared on the stage; but the author took a becoming
+care, that the things that offended on the stage, were either altered
+or omitted in the press. One of our modern writers, in a short satire
+against keeping, concludes thus:
+
+  "Dryden, good man, thought keepers to reclaim,
+  Writ a kind satire, call'd it Limberham.
+  This all the herd of letchers straight alarms;
+  From Charing-Cross to Bow was up in arms:
+  They damn'd the play all at one fatal blow,
+  And broke the glass, that did their picture show."
+
+Mr Malone mentions his having seen a MS. copy of this play, found by
+Lord Bolingbroke among the sweepings of Pope's study, in which there
+occur several indecent passages, not to be found in the printed copy.
+These, doubtless, constituted the castrations, which, in obedience to
+the public voice, our author expunged from his play, after its
+condemnation. It is difficult to guess what could be the nature of the
+indecencies struck out, when we consider those which the poet deemed
+himself at liberty to retain.
+
+The reader will probably easily excuse any remarks upon this comedy.
+It is not absolutely without humour, but is so disgustingly coarse, as
+entirely to destroy that merit. Langbaine, with his usual anxiety of
+research, traces back a few of the incidents to the novels of Cinthio
+Giraldi, and to those of some forgotten French authors.
+
+Plays, even of this nature, being worth preservation, as containing
+genuine traces of the manners of the age in which they appear, I
+cannot but remark the promiscuous intercourse, which, in this comedy
+and others, is represented as taking place betwixt women of character,
+and those who made no pretensions to it. Bellamira in Sir Charles
+Sedley's play, and Mrs Tricksy in the following pages, are admitted
+into company with the modest female characters, without the least hint
+of exception or impropriety. Such were actually the manners of Charles
+the II.d's time, where we find the mistresses of the king, and his
+brothers, familiar in the highest circles. It appears, from the
+evidence in the case of the duchess of Norfolk for adultery, that Nell
+Gwyn was living with her Grace in familiar habits; her society,
+doubtless, paving the way for the intrigue, by which the unfortunate
+lady lost her rank and reputation[2]. It is always symptomatic of a
+total decay of morals, where female reputation neither confers
+dignity, nor excites pride, in its possessor; but is consistent with
+her mingling in the society of the libertine and the profligate.
+
+Some of Dryden's libellers draw an invidious comparison betwixt his
+own private life and this satire; and exhort him to
+
+  Be to vices, which he practised, kind.
+
+But of the injustice of this charge on Dryden's character, we have
+spoken fully elsewhere. Undoubtedly he had the licence of this, and
+his other dramatic writings, in his mind, when he wrote the following
+verses; where the impurity of the stage is traced to its radical
+source, the debauchery of the court:
+
+  Then courts of kings were held in high renown,
+  Ere made the common brothels of the town.
+  There virgins honourable vows received,
+  But chaste, as maids in monasteries, lived.
+  The king himself, to nuptial rites a slave,
+  No bad example to his poets gave;
+  And they, not bad, but in a vicious age,
+  Had not, to please the prince, debauched the stage.
+                                   _Wife of Bath's Tale._
+
+"Limberham" was acted at the Duke's Theatre in Dorset-Garden; for,
+being a satire upon a court vice, it was deemed peculiarly calculated
+for that play-house. The concourse of the citizens thither is alluded
+to in the prologue to "Marriage-a-la-Mode." Ravenscroft also, in his
+epilogue to the "Citizen turned Gentleman," acted at the same theatre,
+disowns the patronage of the courtiers who kept mistresses, probably
+because they Constituted the minor part of his audience:
+
+  From the court party we hope no success;
+  Our author is not one of the noblesse,
+  That bravely does maintain his miss in town,
+  Whilst my great lady is with speed sent down,
+  And forced in country mansion-house to fix.
+  That miss may rattle here in coach-and-six.
+
+The stage for introducing "Limberham" was therefore judiciously
+chosen, although the piece was ill received, and withdrawn after being
+only thrice represented. It was printed in 1678.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Reasons for Mr Bayes changing his Religion, p. 24.
+
+2. See State Trials, vol. viii. pp. 17, 18.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                         LORD VAUGHAN, &c[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+I cannot easily excuse the printing of a play at so unseasonable a
+time[2], when the great plot of the nation, like one of Pharaoh's lean
+kine, has devoured its younger brethren of the stage. But however weak
+my defence might be for this, I am sure I should not need any to the
+world for my dedication to your lordship; and if you can pardon my
+presumption in it, that a bad poet should address himself to so great
+a judge of wit, I may hope at least to escape with the excuse of
+Catullus, when he writ to Cicero:
+
+  _Gratias tibi maximas Catullus
+  Agit, pessimus omnium, poeta;
+  Tanto pessimus omnium poeta,
+  Quanto tu optimns omnium patronus._
+
+I have seen an epistle of Flecknoe's to a nobleman, who was by some
+extraordinary chance a scholar; (and you may please to take notice by
+the way, how natural the connection of thought is betwixt a bad poet
+and Flecknoe) where he begins thus: _Quatuordecim jam elapsi sunt
+anni,_ &c.; his Latin, it seems, not holding out to the end of the
+sentence: but he endeavoured to tell his patron, betwixt two languages
+which he understood alike, that it was fourteen years since he had the
+happiness to know him. It is just so long, (and as happy be the omen
+of dulness to me, as it is to some clergymen and statesmen!) since
+your lordship has known, that there is a worse poet remaining in the
+world, than he of scandalous memory, who left it last[3]. I might
+enlarge upon the subject with my author, and assure you, that I have
+served as long for you, as one of the patriarchs did for his
+Old-Testament mistress; but I leave those flourishes, when occasion
+shall serve, for a greater orator to use, and dare only tell you, that
+I never passed any part of my life with greater satisfaction or
+improvement to myself, than those years which I have lived in the
+honour of your lordship's acquaintance; if I may have only the time
+abated when the public service called you to another part of the
+world, which, in imitation of our florid speakers, I might (if I durst
+presume upon the expression) call the _parenthesis of my life_.
+
+That I have always honoured you, I suppose I need not tell you at this
+time of day; for you know I staid not to date my respects to you from
+that title which now you have, and to which you bring a greater
+addition by your merit, than you receive from it by the name; but I am
+proud to let others know, how long it is that I have been made happy
+by my knowledge of you; because I am sure it will give me a reputation
+with the present age, and with posterity. And now, my lord, I know you
+are afraid, lest I should take this occasion, which lies so fair for
+me, to acquaint the world with some of those excellencies which I have
+admired in you; but I have reasonably considered, that to acquaint the
+world, is a phrase of a malicious meaning; for it would imply, that
+the world were not already acquainted with them. You are so generally
+known to be above the meanness of my praises, that you have spared my
+evidence, and spoiled my compliment: Should I take for my common
+places, your knowledge both of the old and the new philosophy; should
+I add to these your skill in mathematics and history; and yet farther,
+your being conversant with all the ancient authors of the Greek and
+Latin tongues, as well as with the modern--I should tell nothing new
+to mankind; for when I have once but named you, the world will
+anticipate all my commendations, and go faster before me than I can
+follow. Be therefore secure, my lord, that your own fame has freed
+itself from the danger of a panegyric; and only give me leave to tell
+you, that I value the candour of your nature, and that one character
+of friendliness, and, if I may have leave to call it, kindness in you,
+before all those other which make you considerable in the nation[4].
+
+Some few of our nobility are learned, and therefore I will not
+conclude an absolute contradiction in the terms of nobleman and
+scholar; but as the world goes now, 'tis very hard to predicate one
+upon the other; and 'tis yet more difficult to prove, that a nobleman
+can be a friend to poetry. Were it not for two or three instances in
+Whitehall, and in the town, the poets of this age would find so little
+encouragement for their labours, and so few understanders, that they
+might have leisure to turn pamphleteers, and augment the number of
+those abominable scribblers, who, in this time of licence, abuse the
+press, almost every day, with nonsense, and railing against the
+government.
+
+It remains, my lord, that I should give you some account of this
+comedy, which you have never seen; because it was written and acted in
+your absence, at your government of Jamaica. It was intended for an
+honest satire against our crying sin of _keeping_; how it would have
+succeeded, I can but guess, for it was permitted to be acted only
+thrice. The crime, for which it suffered, was that which is objected
+against the satires of Juvenal, and the epigrams of Catullus, that it
+expressed too much of the vice which it decried. Your lordship knows
+what answer was returned by the elder of those poets, whom I last
+mentioned, to his accusers:
+
+  _--castum esse decet pium poetam
+  Ipsum. Versiculos nihil necesse est:
+  Qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem
+  Si sint molliculi et parum pudici._
+
+But I dare not make that apology for myself; and therefore have taken
+a becoming care, that those things which offended on the stage, might
+be either altered, or omitted in the press; for their authority is,
+and shall be, ever sacred to me, as much absent as present, and in all
+alterations of their fortune, who for those reasons have stopped its
+farther appearance on the theatre. And whatsoever hindrance it has
+been to me in point of profit, many of my friends can bear me witness,
+that I have not once murmured against that decree. The same fortune
+once happened to Moliere, on the occasion of his "Tartuffe;" which,
+notwithstanding, afterwards has seen the light, in a country more
+bigot than ours, and is accounted amongst the best pieces of that
+poet. I will be bold enough to say, that this comedy is of the first
+rank of those which I have written, and that posterity will be of my
+opinion. It has nothing of particular satire in it; for whatsoever may
+have been pretended by some critics in the town, I may safely and
+solemnly affirm, that no one character has been drawn from any single
+man; and that I have known so many of the same humour, in every folly
+which is here exposed, as may serve to warrant it from a particular
+reflection. It was printed in my absence from the town, this summer,
+much against my expectation; otherwise I had over-looked the press,
+and been yet more careful, that neither my friends should have had the
+least occasion of unkindness against me, nor my enemies of upbraiding
+me; but if it live to a second impression, I will faithfully perform
+what has been wanting in this. In the mean time, my lord, I recommend
+it to your protection, and beg I may keep still that place in your
+favour which I have hitherto enjoyed; and which I shall reckon as one
+of the greatest blessings which can befall,
+
+  My Lord,
+
+    Your Lordship's most obedient,
+      Faithful servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John, Lord Vaughan, was the eldest surviving son of Richard, Earl
+   of Carbery, to which title he afterwards succeeded. He was a man of
+   literature, and president of the Royal Society from 1686 to 1689.
+   Dryden was distinguished by his patronage as far back as 1664,
+   being fourteen years before the acting of this play. Lord Vaughan
+   had thus the honour of discovering and admiring the poet's genius,
+   before the public applause had fixed his fame; and, probably better
+   deserved the panegyric here bestowed, than was Usual among Dryden's
+   patrons. He wrote a recommendatory copy of verses, which are
+   prefixed to "The Conquest of Granada." Mr Malone informs us, that
+   this accomplished nobleman died at Chelsea, on 16th January,
+   1712-13.
+
+2. The great popish plot, that scene of mystery and blood, broke out
+   in August 1678.
+
+3. Flecknoe was a Roman Catholic priest, very much addicted to
+   scribbling verses. His name has been chiefly preserved by our
+   author's satire of "Mack-Flecknoe;" in which he has depicted
+   Shadwell, as the literary son and heir of this wretched poetaster.
+   A few farther particulars concerning him may be found prefixed to
+   that poem. Flecknoe, from this dedication, appears to have been
+   just deceased. The particular passage referred to has not been
+   discovered; even Langbaine had never seen it: but Mr Malone points
+   out a letter of Flecknoe to the Cardinal Barberini, whereof the
+   first sentence is in Latin, and the next in English. Our author, in
+   an uncommon strain of self-depreciation, or rather to give a neat
+   turn to his sentence, has avouched himself to be a worse poet than
+   Flecknoe. But expressions of modesty in a dedication, like those of
+   panegyric, are not to be understood literally. As in the latter,
+   Dryden often strains a note beyond _Ela_, so, on the present
+   occasion, he has certainly sounded the very base string of
+   humility. Poor Flecknoe, indeed, seems to have become proverbial,
+   as the worst of poets. The Earl of Dorset thus begins a satire on
+   Edward Howard:
+
+     Those damned antipodes to common sense,
+     Those toils to Flecknoe, pr'ythee, tell me whence
+     Does all this mighty mass of dulness spring,
+     Which in such loads thou to the stage dost bring?
+
+4. There is a very flat and prosaic imitation of this sentiment in the
+   Duke of Buckingham's lines to Pope:
+
+     And yet so wondrous, so sublime a thing
+     As the great Iliad, scarce could make me sing;
+     Except I justly could at once commend
+     A good companion, and as firm a friend;
+     One moral, or a mere well-natured deed,
+     Does all desert in sciences exceed.
+
+   Thus prose may be humbled, as well as exalted; into poetry.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  True wit has seen its best days long ago;
+  It ne'er looked up, since we were dipt in show;
+  When sense in doggrel rhimes and clouds was lost,
+  And dulness flourished at the actor's cost.
+  Nor stopt it here; when tragedy was done,
+  Satire and humour the same fate have run,
+  And comedy is sunk to trick and pun.
+  Now our machining lumber will not sell,
+  And you no longer care for heaven or hell;
+  What stuff will please you next, the Lord can tell.
+  Let them, who the rebellion first began
+  To wit, restore the monarch, if they can;
+  Our author dares not be the first bold man.
+  He, like the prudent citizen, takes care,
+  To keep for better marts his staple ware;
+  His toys are good enough for Sturbridge fair.
+  Tricks were the fashion; if it now be spent,
+  'Tis time enough at Easter, to invent;
+  No man will make up a new suit for Lent.
+  If now and then he takes a small pretence,
+  To forage for a little wit and sense,
+  Pray pardon him, he meant you no offence.
+  Next summer, Nostradamus tells, they say,
+  That all the critics shall be shipped away,
+  And not enow be left to damn a play.
+  To every sail beside, good heaven, be kind;
+  But drive away that swarm with such a wind,
+  That not one locust may be left behind!
+
+
+
+
+                           DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+  ALDO, _an honest, good-natured, free-hearted old gentleman of the
+        town._
+  WOODALL, _his son, under a false name; bred abroad, and now returned
+           from travel._
+  LIMBERHAM, _a tame, foolish keeper, persuaded by what is last said
+             to him, and changing next word._
+  BRAINSICK, _a husband, who, being well conceited of himself,
+             despises his wife: vehement and eloquent, as he thinks;
+             but indeed a talker of nonsense._
+  GERVASE, WOODALL'S _man: formal, and apt to give good counsel._
+  GILES, WOODALL'S _cast servant._
+
+  MRS SAINTLY, _an hypocritical fanatic, landlady of the
+               boarding-house._
+  MRS TRICKSY, _a termagant kept mistress._
+  MRS PLEASANCE, _supposed daughter to_ MRS SAINTLY: _Spiteful and
+                 satirical; but secretly in love with_ WOODALL.
+  MRS BRAINSICK.
+  JUDITH, _a maid of the house._
+
+SCENE--_A Boarding-house in Town._
+
+
+
+
+                              LIMBERHAM;
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                             KIND KEEPER.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_An open Garden-House; a table in it, and chairs._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Wood._ Bid the footman receive the trunks and portmantua; and see
+them placed in the lodgings you have taken for me, while I walk a turn
+here in the garden.
+
+_Gerv._ It is already ordered, sir. But they are like to stay in the
+outer-room, till the mistress of the house return from morning
+exercise.
+
+_Wood._ What, she's gone to the parish church, it seems, to her
+devotions!
+
+_Gerv._ No, sir; the servants have informed me, that she rises every
+morning, and goes to a private meeting-house; where they pray for the
+government, and practise against the authority of it.
+
+_Wood._ And hast thou trepanned me into a tabernacle of the godly? Is
+this pious boarding-house a place for me, thou wicked varlet?
+
+_Gerv._ According to human appearance, I must confess, it is neither
+fit for you, nor you for it; but have patience, sir; matters are not
+so bad as they may seem. There are pious bawdy-houses in the world, or
+conventicles would not be so much frequented. Neither is it
+impossible, but a devout fanatic landlady of a boarding-house may be a
+bawd.
+
+_Wood._ Ay, to those of her own church, I grant you, Gervase; but I am
+none of those.
+
+_Gerv._ If I were worthy to read you a lecture in the mystery of
+wickedness, I would instruct you first in the art of seeming holiness:
+But, heaven be thanked, you have a toward and pregnant genius to vice,
+and need not any man's instruction; and I am too good, I thank my
+stars, for the vile employment of a pimp.
+
+_Wood._ Then thou art even too good for me; a worse man will serve my
+turn.
+
+_Gerv._ I call your conscience to witness, how often I have given you
+wholesome counsel; how often I have said to you, with tears in my
+eyes, master, or master Aldo--
+
+_Wood._ Mr Woodall, you rogue! that is my _nomme de guerre._ You know
+I have laid by Aldo, for fear that name should bring me to the notice
+of my father.
+
+_Gerv._ Cry you mercy, good Mr Woodall. How often have I said,--Into
+what courses do you run! Your father sent you into France at twelve
+years old; bred you up at Paris, first in a college, and then at an
+academy: At the first, instead of running through a course of
+philosophy, you ran through all the bawdy-houses in town: At the
+latter, instead of managing the great horse, you exercised on your
+master's wife. What you did in Germany, I know not; but that you beat
+them all at their own weapon, drinking, and have brought home a goblet
+of plate from Munster, for the prize of swallowing a gallon of Rhenish
+more than the bishop.
+
+_Wood._ Gervase, thou shalt be my chronicler; thou losest none of my
+heroic actions.
+
+_Gerv._ What a comfort are you like to prove to your good old father!
+You have run a campaigning among the French these last three years,
+without his leave; and now he sends for you back, to settle you in the
+world, and marry you to the heiress of a rich gentleman, of whom he
+had the guardianship, yet you do not make your application to him.
+
+_Wood._ Pr'ythee, no more.
+
+_Gerv._ You are come over, have been in town above a week _incognito_,
+haunting play-houses, and other places, which for modesty I name not;
+and have changed your name from Aldo to Woodall, for fear of being
+discovered to him: You have not so much as inquired where he is
+lodged, though you know he is most commonly in London: And lastly, you
+have discharged my honest fellow-servant Giles, because--
+
+_Wood._ Because he was too saucy, and was ever offering to give me
+counsel: Mark that, and tremble at his destiny.
+
+_Gerv._ I know the reason why I am kept; because you cannot be
+discovered by my means; for you took me up in France, and your father
+knows me not.
+
+_Wood._ I must have a ramble in the town: When I have spent my money,
+I will grow dutiful, see my father, and ask for more. In the mean
+time, I have beheld a handsome woman at a play, I am fallen in love
+with her, and have found her easy: Thou, I thank thee, hast traced her
+to her lodging in this boarding-house, and hither I am come, to
+accomplish my design.
+
+_Gerv._ Well, heaven mend all. I hear our landlady's voice without;
+[_Noise._] and therefore shall defer my counsel to a fitter season.
+
+_Wood._ Not a syllable of counsel: The next grave sentence, thou
+marchest after Giles. Woodall's my name; remember that.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY.
+
+Is this the lady of the house?
+
+_Gerv._ Yes, Mr Woodall, for want of a better, as she will tell you.
+
+_Wood._ She has a notable smack with her! I believe zeal first taught
+the art of kissing close.                             [_Saluting her._
+
+_Saint._ You are welcome, gentleman. Woodall is your name?
+
+_Wood._ I call myself so.
+
+_Saint._ You look like a sober discreet gentleman; there is grace in
+your countenance.
+
+_Wood._ Some sprinklings of it, madam: We must not boast.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, boasting is of an evil principle.
+
+_Wood._ Faith, madam--
+
+_Saint._ No swearing, I beseech you. Of what church are you?
+
+_Wood._ Why, of Covent-Garden church, I think.
+
+_Gerv._ How lewdly and ignorantly he answers! [_Aside_] She means, of
+what religion are you?
+
+_Wood._ O, does she so?--Why, I am of your religion, be it what it
+will; I warrant it a right one: I'll not stand with you for a trifle;
+presbyterian, independent, anabaptist, they are all of them too good
+for us, unless we had the grace to follow them.
+
+_Saint._ I see you are ignorant; but verily, you are a new vessel, and
+I may season you. I hope you do not use the parish-church.
+
+_Wood._ Faith, madam--cry you mercy; (I forgot again) I have been in
+England but five days.
+
+_Saint._ I find a certain motion within me to this young man, and must
+secure him to myself, ere he see my lodgers. [_Aside._]--O, seriously,
+I had forgotten; your trunk and portmantua are standing in the hall;
+your lodgings are ready, and your man may place them, if he please,
+while you and I confer together.
+
+_Wood._ Go, Gervase, and do as you are directed.          [_Exit_ GER.
+
+_Saint._ In the first place, you must know, we are a company of
+ourselves, and expect you should live conformably and lovingly amongst
+us.
+
+_Wood._ There you have hit me. I am the most loving soul, and shall be
+conformable to all of you.
+
+_Saint._ And to me especially. Then, I hope, you are no keeper of late
+hours.
+
+_Wood._ No, no, my hours are very early; betwixt three and four in the
+morning, commonly.
+
+_Saint._ That must be amended; but, to remedy the inconvenience, I
+will myself sit up for you. I hope, you would not offer violence to
+me?
+
+_Wood._ I think I should not, if I were sober.
+
+_Saint._ Then, if you were overtaken, and should offer violence, and I
+consent not, you may do your filthy part, and I am blameless.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] I think the devil's in her; she has given me the
+hint again.--Well, it shall go hard, but I will offer violence
+sometimes; will that content you?
+
+_Saint._ I have a cup of cordial water in my closet, which will help
+to strengthen nature, and to carry off a debauch: I do not invite you
+thither; but the house will be safe a-bed, and scandal will be
+avoided.
+
+_Wood._ Hang scandal; I am above it at those times.
+
+_Saint._ But scandal is the greatest part of the offence; you must be
+secret. And I must warn you of another thing; there are, besides
+myself, two more young women in my house.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] That, besides herself, is a cooling card.--Pray,
+how young are they?
+
+_Saint._ About my age: some eighteen, or twenty, or thereabouts.
+
+_Wood._ Oh, very good! Two more young women besides yourself, and both
+handsome?
+
+_Saint._ No, verily, they are painted outsides; you must not cast your
+eyes upon them, nor listen to their conversation: You are already
+chosen for a better work.
+
+_Wood._ I warrant you, let me alone: I am chosen, I.
+
+_Saint._ They are a couple of alluring wanton minxes.
+
+_Wood._ Are they very alluring, say you? very wanton?
+
+_Saint._ You appear exalted, when I mention those pit-falls of
+iniquity.
+
+_Wood._ Who, I exalted? Good faith, I am as sober, a melancholy poor
+soul!--
+
+_Saint._ I see this abominable sin of swearing is rooted in you. Tear
+it out; oh, tear it out! it will destroy your precious soul.
+
+_Wood._ I find we two shall scarce agree: I must not come to your
+closet when I have got a bottle; for, at such a time, I am horribly
+given to it.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, a little swearing may be then allowable: You may
+swear you love me, it is a lawful oath; but then, you must not look on
+harlots.
+
+_Wood._ I must wheedle her, and whet my courage first on her; as a
+good musician always preludes before a tune. Come, here is my first
+oath.                                                [_Embracing her._
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, Mrs Saintly! what work have we here towards?
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Aldo, my own natural father, as I live! I remember
+the lines of that hide-bound face: Does he lodge here? If he should
+know me, I am ruined.
+
+_Saint._ Curse on his coming! he has disturbed us. [_Aside._] Well,
+young gentleman, I shall take a time to instruct you better.
+
+_Wood._ You shall find me an apt scholar.
+
+_Saint._ I must go abroad upon some business; but remember your
+promise, to carry yourself soberly, and without scandal in my family;
+and so I leave you to this gentleman, who is a member of it.
+                                                        [_Exit_ SAINT.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] Before George, a proper fellow, and a swinger he
+should be, by his make! the rogue would humble a whore, I warrant
+him.--You are welcome, sir, amongst us; most heartily welcome, as I
+may say.
+
+_Wood._ All's well: he knows me not.--Sir, your civility is obliging
+to a stranger, and may befriend me, in the acquaintance of our
+fellow-lodgers.
+
+_Aldo._ Hold you there, sir: I must first understand you a little
+better; and yet, methinks, you should be true to love.
+
+_Wood._ Drinking and wenching are but slips of youth: I had those two
+good qualities from my father.
+
+_Aldo._ Thou, boy! Aha, boy! a true Trojan, I warrant thee! [_Hugging
+him._] Well, I say no more; but you are lighted into such a family,
+such food for concupiscence, such _bona roba's_!
+
+_Wood._ One I know, indeed; a wife: But _bona roba's_, say you?
+
+_Aldo._ I say, _bona roba's_, in the plural number.
+
+_Wood._ Why, what a Turk Mahomet shall I be! No, I will not make
+myself drunk with the conceit of so much joy: The fortune's too great
+for mortal man; and I a poor unworthy sinner.
+
+_Aldo._ Would I lie to my friend? Am I a man? Am I a christian? There
+is that wife you mentioned, a delicate little wheedling devil, with
+such an appearance of simplicity; and with that, she does so
+undermine, so fool her conceited husband, that he despises her!
+
+_Wood._ Just ripe for horns: His destiny, like a Turk's, is written in
+his forehead.[1]
+
+_Aldo._ Peace, peace! thou art yet ordained for greater things. There
+is another, too, a kept mistress, a brave strapping jade, a two-handed
+whore!
+
+_Wood._ A kept mistress, too! my bowels yearn to her already: she is
+certain prize.
+
+_Aldo._ But this lady is so termagant an empress! and he is so
+submissive, so tame, so led a keeper, and as proud of his slavery as a
+Frenchman. I am confident he dares not find her false, for fear of a
+quarrel with her; because he is sure to be at the charges of the war.
+She knows he cannot live without her, and therefore seeks occasions of
+falling out, to make him purchase peace. I believe she is now aiming
+at a settlement.
+
+_Wood._ Might not I ask you one civil question? How pass you your time
+in this noble family? For I find you are a lover of the game, and I
+should be loth to hunt in your purlieus.
+
+_Aldo._ I must first tell you something of my condition. I am here a
+friend to all of them; I am their _factotum_, do all their business;
+for, not to boast, sir, I am a man of general acquaintance: There is
+no news in town, either foreign or domestic, but I have it first; no
+mortgage of lands, no sale of houses, but I have a finger in them.
+
+_Wood._ Then, I suppose, you are a gainer by your pains.
+
+_Aldo._ No, I do all _gratis_, and am most commonly a loser; only a
+buck sometimes from this good lord, or that good lady in the country:
+and I eat it not alone, I must have company.
+
+_Wood._ Pray, what company do you invite?
+
+_Aldo._ Peace, peace, I am coming to you: Why, you must know I am
+tender-natured; and if any unhappy difference have arisen betwixt a
+mistress and her gallant, then I strike in, to do good offices betwixt
+them; and, at my own proper charges, conclude the quarrel with a
+reconciling supper.
+
+_Wood._ I find the ladies of pleasure are beholden to you.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I love the poor little devils. I am indeed a
+father to them, and so they call me: I give them my counsel, and
+assist them with my purse. I cannot see a pretty sinner hurried to
+prison by the land-pirates, but nature works, and I must bail her; or
+want a supper, but I have a couple of crammed chickens, a cream tart,
+and a bottle of wine to offer her.
+
+_Wood._ Sure you expect some kindness in return.
+
+_Aldo._ Faith, not much: Nature in me is at low water-mark; my body's
+a jade, and tires under me; yet I love to smuggle still in a corner;
+pat them down, and pur over them; but, after that, I can do them
+little harm.
+
+_Wood._ Then I'm acquainted with your business: You would be a kind of
+deputy-fumbler under me.
+
+_Aldo._ You have me right. Be you the lion, to devour the prey; I am
+your jackall, to provide it for you: There will be a bone for me to
+pick.
+
+_Wood._ Your humility becomes your age. For my part, I am vigorous,
+and throw at all.
+
+_Aldo._ As right as if I had begot thee! Wilt thou give me leave to
+call thee son?
+
+_Wood._ With all my heart.
+
+_Aldo._ Ha, mad son!
+
+_Wood._ Mad daddy!
+
+_Aldo._ Your man told me, you were just returned from travel: What
+parts have you last visited?
+
+_Wood._ I came from France.
+
+_Aldo._ Then, perhaps, you may have known an ungracious boy of mine
+there.
+
+_Wood._ Like enough: Pray, what's his name?
+
+_Aldo._ George Aldo.
+
+_Wood._ I must confess I do know the gentleman; satisfy yourself, he's
+in health, and upon his return.
+
+_Aldo._ That's some comfort: But, I hear, a very rogue, a lewd young
+fellow.
+
+_Wood._ The worst I know of him is, that he loves a wench; and that
+good quality he has not stolen. [_Music at the Balcony over head: Mrs_
+TRICKSY _and_ JUDITH _appear._]--Hark! There's music above.
+
+_Aldo._ 'Tis at my daughter Tricksy's lodging; the kept mistress I
+told you of, the lass of mettle. But for all she carries it so high, I
+know her pedigree; her mother's a sempstress in Dog-and-Bitch yard,
+and was, in her youth, as right as she is.
+
+_Wood._ Then she's a two-piled punk, a punk of two descents.
+
+_Aldo._ And her father, the famous cobler, who taught Walsingham to
+the black-birds. How stand thy affections to her, thou lusty rogue?
+
+_Wood._ All on fire: A most urging creature!
+
+_Aldo._ Peace! they are beginning.
+
+          A SONG.
+
+              I.
+
+  _'Gainst keepers we petition,
+    Who would inclose the common:
+  'Tis enough to raise sedition
+    In the free-born subject, woman.
+  Because for his gold,
+    I my body have sold,
+  He thinks I'm a slave for my life;
+    He rants, domineers,
+  He swaggers and swears,
+    And would keep me as bare as his wife._
+
+              II.
+
+  _'Gainst keepers we petition, &c.
+    'Tis honest and fair,
+  That a feast I prepare;
+    But when his dull appetite's o'er,
+  I'll treat with the rest
+    Some welcomer guest,
+  For the reckoning was paid me before._
+
+_Wood._ A song against keepers! this makes well for us lusty lovers.
+
+_Trick._ [_Above._] Father, father Aldo!
+
+_Aldo._ Daughter Tricksy, are you there, child? your friends at Barnet
+are all well, and your dear master Limberham, that noble Hephestion,
+is returning with them.
+
+_Trick._ And you are come upon the spur before, to acquaint me with
+the news.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, thou art the happiest rogue in a kind keeper! He drank
+thy health five times, _supernaculum_,[2] to my son Brain-sick; and
+dipt my daughter Pleasance's little finger, to make it go down more
+glibly:[3] And, before George, I grew tory rory, as they say, and
+strained a brimmer through the lily-white smock, i'faith.
+
+_Trick._ You will never leave these fumbling tricks, father, till you
+are taken up on suspicion of manhood, and have a bastard laid at your
+door: I am sure you would own it, for your credit.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I should not see it starve, for the mother's
+sake: For, if she were a punk, she was good-natured, I warrant her.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Well, if ever son was blest with a hopeful father,
+I am.
+
+_Trick._ Who is that gentleman with you?
+
+_Aldo._ A young _monsieur_ returned from travel; a lusty young rogue;
+a true-milled whoremaster, with the right stamp. He is a
+fellow-lodger, incorporate in our society: For whose sake he came
+hither, let him tell you.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Are you gloating already? then there's hopes,
+i'faith.
+
+_Trick._ You seem to know him, father.
+
+_Aldo._ Know him! from his cradle--What's your name?
+
+_Wood._ Woodall.
+
+_Ald._ Woodall of Woodall; I knew his father; we were contemporaries,
+and fellow-wenchers in our youth.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] My honest father stumbles into truth, in spite of
+lying.
+
+_Trick._ I was just coming down to the garden-house, before you came.
+                                                  [TRICKSY _descends._
+
+_Aldo._ I am sorry I cannot stay to present my son, Woodall, to you;
+but I have set you together, that's enough for me.            [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ [_Alone._] 'Twas my study to avoid my father, and I have run
+full into his mouth: and yet I have a strong hank upon him too; for I
+am privy to as many of his virtues, as he is of mine. After all, if I
+had an ounce of discretion left, I should pursue this business no
+farther: but two fine women in a house! well, it is resolved, come
+what will on it, thou art answerable for all my sins, old Aldo--
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _with a box of essences._
+
+Here she comes, this heir-apparent of a sempstress, and a cobler! and
+yet, as she's adorned, she looks like any princess of the blood.
+                                                       [_Salutes her._
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] What a difference there is between this gentleman,
+and my feeble keeper, Mr Limberham! he's to my wish, if he would but
+make the least advances to me.--Father Aldo tells me, sir, you are a
+traveller: What adventures have you had in foreign countries?
+
+_Wood._ I have no adventures of my own, can deserve your curiosity;
+but, now I think on it, I can tell you one that happened to a French
+cavalier, a friend of mine, at Tripoli.
+
+_Trick._ No wars, I beseech you: I am so weary of father Aldo's
+Loraine and Crequi.
+
+_Wood._ Then this is as you would desire it, a love-adventure. This
+French gentleman was made a slave to the Dey of Tripoli; by his good
+qualities, gained his master's favour; and after, by corrupting an
+eunuch, was brought into the seraglio privately, to see the Dey's
+mistress.
+
+_Trick._ This is somewhat; proceed, sweet sir.
+
+_Wood._ He was so much amazed, when he first beheld her leaning over a
+balcony, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, or speak to her.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] I find him now.--But what followed of this dumb
+interview?
+
+_Wood._ The nymph was gracious, and came down to him; but with so
+goddess-like a presence, that the poor gentleman was thunder-struck
+again.
+
+_Trick._ That savoured little of the monsieur's gallantry, especially
+when the lady gave him encouragement.
+
+_Wood_ The gentleman was not so dull, but he understood the favour,
+and was presuming enough to try if she were mortal. He advanced with
+more assurance, and took her fair hands: was he not too bold, madam?
+and would not you have drawn back yours, had you been in the sultana's
+place?
+
+_Trick._ If the sultana liked him well enough to come down into the
+garden to him, I suppose she came not thither to gather nosegays.
+
+_Wood._ Give me leave, madam, to thank you, in my friend's behalf, for
+your favourable judgment. [_Kisses her hand._] He kissed her hand with
+an exceeding transport; and finding that she prest his at the same
+instant, he proceeded with a greater eagerness to her lips--but,
+madam, the story would be without life, unless you give me leave to
+act the circumstances.                                  [_Kisses her._
+
+_Trick._ Well, I'll swear you are the most natural historian!
+
+_Wood._ But now, madam, my heart beats with joy, when I come to tell
+you the sweetest part of his adventure: opportunity was favourable,
+and love was on his side; he told her, the chamber was more private,
+and a fitter scene for pleasure. Then, looking on her eyes, he found
+them languishing; he saw her cheeks blushing, and heard her voice
+faultering in a half-denial: he seized her hand with an amorous
+ecstacy, and--                                      [_Takes her hand._
+
+_Trick._ Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your friend was
+unconscionable, if he desired more favours at the first interview.
+
+_Wood._ He both desired and obtained them, madam, and so will--
+
+_Trick._ [_A noise within._] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham's voice:
+he's returned from Barnet.
+
+_Wood._ I'll avoid him.
+
+_Trick._ That's impossible; he'll meet you. Let me think a
+moment:--Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot discover you: have any of
+the servants seen you?
+
+_Wood._ None.
+
+_Trick._ Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant of essences:
+here's a little box of them just ready.
+
+_Wood._ But I speak no Italian; only a few broken scraps, which I
+picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin at Paris.
+
+_Trick._ You must venture that: When we are rid of Limberham, 'tis but
+slipping into your chamber, throwing off your black perriwig, and
+riding suit, and you come out an Englishman. No more; he's here.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay you over the lips, to take
+hansel of them, for my welcome.
+
+_Trick._ [_Putting him back._] Foh! how you smell of sweat, dear!
+
+_Limb._ I have put myself into this same unsavoury heat, out of my
+violent affection to see thee, Pug. Before George, as father Aldo
+says, I could not live without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow,
+though I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all night; and
+then I was so troublesome to father Aldo, (for you must know he and I
+were lodged together) that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him, and
+so hug him in my sleep!
+
+_Trick._ I dare be sworn 'twas in your sleep; for, when you are
+waking, you are the most honest, quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by
+woman.
+
+_Limb._ Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am come home on purpose to
+pay old debts. But who is that same fellow there? What makes he in our
+territories?
+
+_Trick._ You oaf you, do you not perceive it is the Italian seignior,
+who is come to sell me essences?
+
+_Limb._ Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is he the lampoon was
+made on.         [_Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,_ Ho, ho.
+
+_Trick._ Pr'ythee leave thy foppery, that we may have done with him.
+He asks an unreasonable price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior,
+take your trinkets, and be gone.
+
+_Wood._ [_Taking the box._] _A dio, seigniora._
+
+_Limb._ Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing is come into my
+head of the sudden.
+
+_Trick._ What would you have, you eternal sot? the man's in haste.
+
+_Limb._ But why should you be in your frumps, Pug, when I design only
+to oblige you? I must present you with this box of essences; nothing
+can be too dear for thee.
+
+_Trick._ Pray let him go, he understands no English.
+
+_Limb._ Then how could you drive a bargain with him, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ Why, by signs, you coxcomb.
+
+_Limb._ Very good! then I'll first pull him by the sleeve, that's a
+sign to stay. Look you, Mr Seignior, I would make a present of your
+essences to this lady; for I find I cannot speak too plain to you,
+because you understand no English. Be not you refractory now, but take
+ready money: that's a rule.
+
+_Wood._ _Seignioro, non intendo Inglese._
+
+_Limb._ This is a very dull fellow! he says, he does not intend
+English. How much shall I offer him, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ If you will present me, I have bidden him ten guineas.
+
+_Limb._ And, before George, you bid him fair. Look you, Mr Seignior, I
+will give you all these. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Do you
+see, Seignior?
+
+_Wood._ _Seignior, si._
+
+_Limb._ Lo' you there, Pug, he does see. Here, will you take me at my
+word?
+
+_Wood._ [_Shrugging up_] _Troppo poco, troppo poco._
+
+_Limb._ _A poco, a poco!_ why a pox on you too, an' you go to that.
+Stay, now I think on't, I can tickle him up with French; he'll
+understand that sure. _Monsieur, voulez vous prendre ces dix guinees,
+pour ces essences? mon foy c'est assez._
+
+_Wood._ _Chi vala, amici: Ho di casa! taratapa, taratapa, eus, matou,
+meau!_--[_To her._] I am at the end of my Italian; what will become of
+me?
+
+_Trick._ [_To him._] Speak any thing, and make it pass for Italian;
+but be sure you take his money.
+
+_Wood._ _Seignior, io non canno takare ten guinneo possibilmente; 'tis
+to my losso._
+
+_Limb._ That is, Pug, he cannot possibly take ten guineas, 'tis to his
+loss: Now I understand him; this is almost English.
+
+_Trick._ English! away, you fop: 'tis a kind of _lingua Franca_, as I
+have heard the merchants call it; a certain compound language, made up
+of all tongues, that passes through the Levant.
+
+_Limb._ This _lingua_, what you call it, is the most rarest language!
+I understand it as well as if it were English; you shall see me answer
+him: _Seignioro, stay a littlo, and consider wello, ten guinnio is
+monyo, a very considerablo summo._
+
+_Trick._ Come, you shall make it twelve, and he shall take it for my
+sake.
+
+_Limb._ Then, _Seignioro,_ for _Pugsakio, addo two moro: je vous donne
+bon advise: prenez vitement: prenez me a mon mot._
+
+_Wood._ _Io losero multo; ma pergagnare il vestro costumo, datemi
+hansello._
+
+_Limb._ There is both _hansello_ and _guinnio; tako, tako,_ and so
+good-morrow.
+
+_Trick._ Good-morrow, seignior; I like your spirits very well; pray
+let me have all your essence you can spare.
+
+_Limb._ Come, _Puggio,_ and let us retire in _secreto_, like lovers,
+into our _chambro_; for I grow _impatiento--bon matin, monsieur, bon
+matin et bon jour._                 [_Exeunt_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Well, get thee gone, 'squire Limberhamo, for the easiest fool
+I ever knew, next my naunt of fairies in the Alchemist[4]. I have
+escaped, thanks to my mistress's _lingua Franca_: I'll steal to my
+chamber, shift my perriwig and clothes; and then, with the help of
+resty Gervase, concert the business of the next campaign. My father
+sticks in my stomach still; but I am resolved to be Woodall with him,
+and Aldo with the women.                                      [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Wood._ Hitherto, sweet Gervase, we have carried matters swimmingly. I
+have danced in a net before my father, almost check-mated the keeper,
+retired to my chamber undiscovered, shifted my habit, and am come out
+an absolute monsieur, to allure the ladies. How sits my _chedreux_?
+
+_Gerv._ O very finely! with the locks combed down, like a mermaid's on
+a sign-post. Well, you think now your father may live in the same
+house with you till doomsday, and never find you; or, when he has
+found you, he will be kind enough not to consider what a property you
+have made of him. My employment is at an end; you have got a better
+pimp, thanks to your filial reverence.
+
+_Wood._ Pr'ythee, what should a man do with such a father, but use him
+thus? besides, he does journey-work under me; 'tis his humour to
+fumble, and my duty to provide for his old age.
+
+_Gerv._ Take my advice yet; down o' your marrow bones, and ask
+forgiveness; espouse the wife he has provided for you; lie by the side
+of a wholesome woman, and procreate your own progeny in the fear of
+heaven.
+
+_Wood._ I have no vocation to it, Gervase: A man of sense is not made
+for marriage; 'tis a game, which none but dull plodding fellows can
+play at well; and 'tis as natural to them, as crimp is to a Dutchman.
+
+_Gerv._ Think on't, however, sir; debauchery is upon its last legs in
+England: Witty men began the fashion, and now the fops are got into
+it, 'tis time to leave it.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ Son Woodall, thou vigorous young rogue, I congratulate thy
+good fortune; thy man has told me the adventure of the Italian
+merchant.
+
+_Wood._ Well, they are now retired together, like Rinaldo and Armida,
+to private dalliance; but we shall find a time to separate their
+loves, and strike in betwixt them, daddy. But I hear there's another
+lady in the house, my landlady's fair daughter; how came you to leave
+her out of your catalogue?
+
+_Aldo._ She's pretty, I confess, but most damnably honest; have a care
+of her, I warn you, for she's prying and malicious.
+
+_Wood._ A twang of the mother; but I love to graff on such a
+crab-tree; she may bear good fruit another year.
+
+_Aldo._ No, no, avoid her; I warrant thee, young Alexander, I will
+provide thee more worlds to conquer.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] My old master would fain pass for Philip of
+Macedon, when he is little better than Sir Pandarus of Troy.
+
+_Wood._ If you get this keeper out of doors, father, and give me but
+an opportunity--
+
+_Aldo._ Trust my diligence; I will smoke him out, as they do bees, but
+I will make him leave his honey-comb.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] If I had a thousand sons, none of the race of the
+Gervases should ever be educated by thee, thou vile old Satan!
+
+_Aldo._ Away, boy! Fix thy arms, and whet, like the lusty German boys,
+before a charge: He shall bolt immediately.
+
+_Wood._ O, fear not the vigorous five-and-twenty.
+
+_Aldo._ Hold, a word first: Thou saidst my son was shortly to come
+over.
+
+_Wood._ So he told me.
+
+_Aldo._ Thou art my bosom friend.
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] Of an hour's acquaintance.
+
+_Aldo._ Be sure thou dost not discover my frailties to the young
+scoundrel: 'Twere enough to make the boy my master. I must keep up the
+dignity of old age with him.
+
+_Wood._ Keep but your own counsel, father; for whatever he knows, must
+come from you.
+
+_Aldo._ The truth on't is, I sent for him over; partly to have married
+him, and partly because his villainous bills came so thick upon me,
+that I grew weary of the charge.
+
+_Gerv._ He spared for nothing; he laid it on, sir, as I have heard.
+
+_Wood._ Peace, you lying rogue!--Believe me, sir, bating his necessary
+expences of women, which I know you would not have him want, in all
+things else, he was the best manager of your allowance; and, though I
+say it--
+
+_Gerv._ [_Aside._] That should not say it.
+
+_Wood._ The most hopeful young gentleman in Paris.
+
+_Aldo._ Report speaks otherwise; and, before George, I shall read him
+a wormwood lecture, when I see him. But, hark, I hear the door unlock;
+the lovers are coming out: I'll stay here, to wheedle him abroad; but
+you must vanish.
+
+_Wood._ Like night and the moon, in the Maid's Tragedy: I into mist;
+you into day[5].                            [_Exeunt_ WOOD. _and_ GER.
+
+
+SCENE _changes to_ LIMBERHAM'S _apartment._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, but dear sweet honey Pug, forgive me but this once: It
+may be any man's case, when his desires are too vehement.
+
+_Trick._ Let me alone; I care not.
+
+_Limb._ But then thou wilt not love me, Pug.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, son Limberham? There's no quarrel towards, I hope.
+
+_Trick._ You had best tell now, and make yourself ridiculous.
+
+_Limb._ She's in passion: Pray do you moderate this matter, father
+Aldo.
+
+_Trick._ Father Aldo! I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so; you
+may be his father, if the truth were known.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I smell a rat, son Limberham. I doubt, I doubt,
+here has been some great omission in love affairs.
+
+_Limb._ I think all the stars in heaven have conspired my ruin. I'll
+look in my almanack.--As I hope for mercy, 'tis cross day now.
+
+_Trick._ Hang your pitiful excuses. 'Tis well known what offers I have
+had, and what fortunes I might have made with others, like a fool as I
+was, to throw away my youth and beauty upon you. I could have had a
+young handsome lord, that offered me my coach and six; besides many a
+good knight and gentleman, that would have parted with their own
+ladies, and have settled half they had upon me.
+
+_Limb._ Ay, you said so.
+
+_Trick._ I said so, sir! Who am I? Is not my word as good as yours?
+
+_Limb._ As mine gentlewoman? though I say it, my word will go for
+thousands.
+
+_Trick._ The more shame for you, that you have done no more for me:
+But I am resolved I'll not lose my time with you; I'll part.
+
+_Limb._ Do, who cares? Go to Dog-and-Bitch yard, and help your mother
+to make footmen's shirts.
+
+_Trick._ I defy you, slanderer; I defy you.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, dear daughter!
+
+_Limb._ I defy her too.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, good son!
+
+_Trick._ Let me alone: I'll have him cudgelled by my footman.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Bless us! what's here to do? My neighbours will think I keep
+a nest of unclean birds here.
+
+_Limb._ You had best peach now, and make her house be thought a
+bawdy-house!
+
+_Trick._ No, no: While you are in it, you will secure it from that
+scandal.--Hark hither, Mrs Saintly. [_Whispers._]
+
+_Limb._ Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.
+
+_Saint._ Who would have imagined you had been such a kind of man, Mr
+Limberham! O heaven, O heaven!                                [_Exit._
+
+_Limb._ So, now you have spit your venom, and the storm's over.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Crying._] That I should ever live to see this day!
+
+_Trick._ To show I can live honest, in spite of all mankind, I'll go
+into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.
+
+_Limb._ Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I am sure she will come
+back from France, before she gets half way over to Calais.
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, but son Limberham, this must not be. A word in
+private;--you will never get such another woman, for love nor money.
+Do but look upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.
+
+_Limb._ Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a whore of Babylon, as
+she is.
+
+_Aldo._ Would I were worthy to be a young man, for her sake! She
+should eat pearls, if she would have them.
+
+_Limb._ She can digest them, and gold too. Let me tell you, father
+Aldo, she has the stomach of an ostrich.
+
+_Aldo._ Daughter Tricksy, a word with you.
+
+_Trick._ I'll hear nothing: I am for a nunnery.
+
+_Aldo._ I never saw a woman, before you, but first or last she would
+be brought to reason. Hark you, child, you will scarcely find so kind
+a keeper. What if he has some impediment one way? Every body is not a
+Hercules. You shall have my son Woodall, to supply his wants; but, as
+long as he maintains you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.
+
+        LIMBERHAM SINGING.
+
+  _I my own jailor was; my only foe,
+    Who did my liberty forego;
+  I was a prisoner, because I would be so._
+
+_Aldo._ Why, look you now, son Limberham, is this a song to be sung at
+such a time, when I am labouring your reconcilement? Come, daughter
+Tricksy, you must be ruled; I'll be the peace-maker.
+
+_Trick._ No, I'm just going.
+
+_Limb._ The devil take me, if I call you back.
+
+_Trick._ And his dam take me, if I return, except you do.
+
+_Aldo._ So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio! Turn to him,
+daughter: Speak to her, son: Why should you be so refractory both, to
+bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?
+
+_Limb._ I'll not be forsworn, I swore first;
+
+_Trick._ Thou art a forsworn man, however; for thou sworest to love me
+eternally.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I was such a fool, to swear so.
+
+_Aldo._ And will you have that dreadful oath lie gnawing on your
+conscience?
+
+_Trick._ Let him be damned; and so farewell for ever.--[_Going._]
+
+_Limb._ Pug!
+
+_Trick._ Did you call, Mr Limberham?
+
+_Limb._ It may be, ay; it may be, no.
+
+_Trick._ Well, I am going to the nunnery; but, to shew I am in
+charity, I'll pray for you.
+
+_Aldo._ Pray for him! fy, daughter, fy; is that an answer for a
+Christian?
+
+_Limb._ What did Pug say? will she pray for me? Well, to shew I am in
+charity, she shall not pray for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever
+think thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted with me?
+                                                             [_Cries._
+
+_Aldo._ Look you, daughter, see how nature works in him.
+
+_Limb._ I'll settle two hundred a-year upon thee, because thou said'st
+thou would'st pray for me.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you will spoil all, if you
+underbid so.  Come, down with your dust, man: What, shew a base mind,
+when a fair lady's in question!
+
+_Limb._ Well, if I must give three hundred--
+
+_Trick._ No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on a better place.
+
+_Aldo._ Come, there is no better place than little London. You shall
+not part for a trifle. What, son Limberham! four hundred a year is a
+square sum, and you shall give it.
+
+_Limb._ It is a round sum indeed; I wish a three-cornered sum would
+have served her turn.--Why should you be so pervicacious now, Pug?
+Pray take three hundred. Nay, rather than part, Pug, it shall be so.--
+[_She frowns._]
+
+_Aldo._ It shall be so, it shall be so: Come, now buss, and seal the
+bargain.
+
+_Trick._ [_Kissing him._] You see what a good natured fool I am, Mr
+Limberham, to come back into a wicked world, for love of you.--You
+will see the writings drawn, father?
+
+_Aldo._ Ay; and pay the lawyer too. Why, this is as it should be! I'll
+be at the charge of the reconciling supper.--[_To her aside._]
+Daughter, my son Woodall is waiting for you.--Come away, son Limberham
+to the temple.
+
+_Limb._ With all my heart, while she is in a good humour: It would
+cost me another hundred, if I should stay till Pug were in wrath
+again. Adieu, sweet Pug.--[_Exeunt_ ALDO, _and_ LIMB.]
+
+_Trick._ That he should be so silly to imagine I would go into a
+nunnery! it is likely; I have much nun's flesh about me. But here
+comes my gentleman.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL, _not seeing her._
+
+_Wood._ Now the wife's returned, and the daughter too, and I have seen
+them both, and am more distracted than before: I would enjoy all, and
+have not yet determined with which I should begin. It is but a kind of
+clergy-covetousness in me, to desire so many; if I stand gaping after
+pluralities, one of them is in danger to be made a _sine cure_--[_Sees
+her._] O, fortune has determined for me. It is just here, as it is in
+the world; the mistress will be served before the wife.
+
+_Trick._ How now, sir, are you rehearsing your _lingua Franca_ by
+yourself, that you walk so pensively?
+
+_Wood._ No faith, madam, I was thinking of the fair lady, who, at
+parting, bespoke so cunningly of me all my essences.
+
+_Trick._ But there are other beauties in the house; and I should be
+impatient of a rival: for I am apt to be partial to myself, and think
+I deserve to be preferred before them.
+
+_Wood._ Your beauty will allow of no competition; and I am sure my
+love could make none.
+
+_Trick._ Yes, you have seen Mrs Brainsick; she's a beauty.
+
+_Wood._ You mean, I suppose, the peaking creature, the married woman,
+with a sideling look, as if one cheek carried more bias than the
+other?
+
+_Trick._ Yes, and with a high nose, as visible as a land-mark.
+
+_Wood._ With one cheek blue, the other red; just like the covering of
+Lambeth Palace.
+
+_Trick._ Nay, but her legs, if you could see them--
+
+_Wood._ She was so foolish to wear short petticoats, and show them.
+They are pillars, gross enough to support a larger building; of the
+Tuscan order, by my troth.
+
+_Trick._ And her little head, upon that long neck, shows like a
+traitor's skull upon a pole. Then, for her wit--
+
+_Wood._ She can have none: There's not room enough for a thought to
+play in.
+
+_Trick._ I think indeed I may safely trust you with such charms; and
+you have pleased me with your description of her.
+
+_Wood._ I wish you would give me leave to please you better. But you
+transact as gravely with me as a Spaniard; and are losing love, as he
+does Flanders: you consider and demur, when the monarch is up in arms,
+and at your gates[6].
+
+_Trick._ But to yield upon the first summons, ere you have laid a
+formal siege--To-morrow may prove a luckier day to you.
+
+_Wood._ Believe me, madam, lovers are not to trust to-morrow. Love may
+die upon our hands, or opportunity be wanting; 'tis best securing the
+present hour.
+
+_Trick._ No, love's like fruit; it must have time to ripen on the
+tree; if it be green gathered, 'twill but wither afterwards.
+
+_Wood._ Rather 'tis like gun powder; that which fires quickest, is
+commonly the strongest.--By this burning kiss--
+
+_Trick._ You lovers are such froward children, ever crying for the
+breast; and, when you have once had it, fall fast asleep in the
+nurse's arms. And with what face should I look upon my keeper after
+it?
+
+_Wood._ With the same face that all mistresses look upon theirs. Come,
+come.
+
+_Trick._ But my reputation!
+
+_Wood._ Nay, that's no argument, if I should be so base to tell; for
+women get good fortunes now-a-days, by losing their credit, as a
+cunning citizen does by breaking.
+
+_Trick._ But, I'm so shame-faced! Well, I'll go in, and hide my
+blushes.                                                      [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ I'll not be long after you; for I think I have hidden my
+blushes where I shall never find them.
+
+  _Re-enter_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Trick._ As I live, Mr Limberham and father Aldo are just returned; I
+saw them entering. My settlement will miscarry, if you are found here:
+What shall we do?
+
+_Wood._ Go you into your bed-chamber, and leave me to my fortune.
+
+_Trick._ That you should be so dull! their suspicion will be as strong
+still: for what should make you here?
+
+_Wood._ The curse on't is too, I bid my man tell the family I was gone
+abroad; so that, if I am seen, you are infallibly discovered.
+                                                             [_Noise._
+
+_Trick._ Hark, I hear them! Here's a chest which I borrowed of Mrs
+Pleasance; get quickly into it, and I will lock you up: there's
+nothing in't but clothes of Limberham's, and a box of writings.
+
+_Wood._ I shall be smothered.
+
+_Trick._ Make haste, for heaven's sake; they'll quickly be gone, and
+then--
+
+_Wood._ That _then_ will make a man venture any thing.
+                               [_He goes in, and she locks the chest._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ ALDO.
+
+_Limb._ Dost thou not wonder to see me come again so quickly, Pug?
+
+_Trick._ No, I am prepared for any foolish freak of yours: I knew you
+would have a qualm, when you came to settlement.
+
+_Limb._ Your settlement depends most absolutely on that chest.
+
+_Trick._ Father Aldo, a word with you, for heaven's sake.
+
+_Aldo._ No, no, I'll not whisper. Do not stand in your own light, but
+produce the keys, daughter.
+
+_Limb._ Be not musty, my pretty St Peter, but produce the keys. I must
+have the writings out, that concern thy settlement.
+
+_Trick._ Now I see you are so reasonable, I'll show you I dare trust
+your honesty; the settlement shall be deferred till another day.
+
+_Aldo._ No deferring in these cases, daughter.
+
+_Trick._ But I have lost the keys.
+
+_Limb._ That's a jest! let me feel in thy pocket, for I must oblige
+thee.
+
+_Trick._ You shall feel no where: I have felt already and am sure they
+are lost.
+
+_Aldo._ But feel again, the lawyer stays.
+
+_Trick._ Well, to satisfy you, I will feel.--They are not here--nor
+here neither.           [_She pulls out her handkerchief, and the keys
+                         drop after it:_ LIMBERHAM _takes them up._
+
+_Limb._ Look you now, Pug! who's in the right? Well, thou art born to
+be a lucky Pug, in spite of thyself.
+
+_Trick_ [_Aside._] O, I am ruined!--One word, I beseech you, father
+Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ Not a syllable. What the devil's in you, daughter? Open, son,
+open.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aloud._] It shall not be opened; I will have my will,
+though I lose my settlement. Would I were within the chest! I would
+hold it down, to spite you. I say again, would I were within the
+chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it.--The best on't
+is, there's good inkle on the top of the inside, if he have the wit to
+lay hold on't.                                               [_Aside._
+
+_Limb._ [_Going to open it._] Before George, I think you have the
+devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open it, for the guts of me. _Hictius
+doctius!_ what's here to do? I believe, in my conscience, Pug can
+conjure: Marry, God bless us all good Christians!
+
+_Aldo._ Push hard, son.
+
+_Limb._ I cannot push; I was never good at pushing. When I push, I
+think the devil pushes too. Well, I must let it alone, for I am a
+fumbler. Here, take the keys, Pug.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Then all's safe again.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Jud._ Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the chest you borrowed of
+her. She has present occasion for it; and has desired us to carry it
+away.
+
+_Limb._ Well, that's but reason: If she must have it, she must have
+it.
+
+_Trick_ Tell her, it shall be returned some time to-day; at present we
+must crave her pardon, because we have some writings in it, which must
+first be taken out, when we can open it.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, that's but reason too: Then she must not have it.
+
+_Gerv._ Let me come to't; I'll break it open, and you may take out
+your writings.
+
+_Limb._ That's true: 'Tis but reasonable it should be broken open.
+
+_Trick._ Then I may be bound to make good the loss.
+
+_Limb._ 'Tis unreasonable it should be broken open.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, Gervase and I will carry it away; and a smith
+shall be sent for to my daughter Pleasance's chamber, to open it
+without damage.
+
+_Limb._ Why, who says against it? Let it be carried; I'm all for
+reason.
+
+_Trick._ Hold; I say it shall not stir.
+
+_Aldo._ What? every one must have their own; _Fiat justitia, aut ruat
+mundus._
+
+_Limb._ Ay, _fiat justitia,_ Pug: She must have her own; for
+_justitia_ is Latin for justice.       [ALDO _and_ GERV. _lift at it._
+
+_Aldo._ I think the devil's in't.
+
+_Gerv._ There's somewhat bounces, like him, in't. 'Tis plaguy heavy;
+but we'll take t'other heave.
+
+_Trick._ [_Taking hold of the chest._] Then you shall carry me too.
+Help, murder, murder!               [_A confused gabbling among them._
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I think all hell's broke loose among you. What, a
+schism in my family! Does this become the purity of my house? What
+will the ungodly say?
+
+_Limb._ No matter for the ungodly; this is all among ourselves: For,
+look you, the business is this. Mrs Pleasance has sent for this same
+business here, which she lent to Pug; now Pug has some private
+businesses within this business, which she would take out first, and
+the business will not be opened: and this makes all the business.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I am raised up for a judge amongst you; and I say--
+
+_Trick._ I'll have no judge: it shall not go.
+
+_Aldo._ Why son, why daughter, why Mrs Saintly; are you all mad? Hear
+me, I am sober, I am discreet; let a smith be sent for hither, let him
+break open the chest; let the things contained be taken out, and the
+thing containing be restored.
+
+_Limb._ Now hear me too, for I am sober and discreet; father Aldo is
+an oracle: It shall be so.
+
+_Trick._ Well, to show I am reasonable, I am content. Mr Gervase and I
+will fetch an instrument from the next smith; in the mean time, let
+the chest remain where it now stands, and let every one depart the
+chamber.
+
+_Limb._ That no violence be offered to the person of the chest, in
+Pug's absence.
+
+_Aldo._ Then this matter is composed.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Now I shall have leisure to instruct his man, and
+set him free, without discovery. Come, Mr Gervase.
+                                            [_Exeunt all but_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ There is a certain motion put into my mind, and it is of
+good. I have keys here, which a precious brother, a devout blacksmith,
+made me, and which will open any lock of the same bore. Verily, it can
+be no sin to unlock this chest therewith, and take from thence the
+spoils of the ungodly. I will satisfy my conscience, by giving part
+thereof to the hungry and the needy; some to our pastor, that he may
+prove it lawful; and some I will sanctify to my own use.
+                    [_She unlocks the chest, and_ WOODALL _starts up._
+
+_Wood._ Let me embrace you, my dear deliverer! Bless us! is it you,
+Mrs Saintly?                                           [_She shrieks._
+
+_Saint._ [_Shrieking._] Heaven of his mercy! Stop thief, stop thief!
+
+_Wood._ What will become of me now?
+
+_Saint._ According to thy wickedness, shall it be done unto thee. Have
+I discovered thy backslidings, thou unfaithful man! thy treachery to
+me shall be rewarded, verily; for I will testify against thee.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, since you are so revengeful, you shall suffer your part
+of the disgrace; if you testify against me for adultery, I shall
+testify against you for theft: There's an eighth for your seventh.
+                                                             [_Noise._
+
+_Saint._ Verily, they are approaching: Return to my embraces, and it
+shall be forgiven thee.
+
+_Wood._ Thank you, for your own sake. Hark! they are coming! cry thief
+again, and help to save all yet.
+
+_Saint._ Stop thief, stop thief!
+
+_Wood._ Thank you for your own sake; but I fear 'tis too late.
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY _and_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Trick._ [_Entering._] The chest open, and Woodall discovered! I am
+ruined.
+
+_Limb._ Why all this shrieking, Mrs Saintly?
+
+_Wood._ [_Rushing him down._] Stop thief, stop thief! cry you mercy,
+gentleman, if I have hurt you.
+
+_Limb._ [_Rising._] 'Tis a fine time to cry a man mercy, when you have
+beaten his wind out of his body.
+
+_Saint._ As I watched the chest, behold a vision rushed out of it, on
+the sudden; and I lifted up my voice, and shrieked.
+
+_Limb._ A vision, landlady! what, have we Gog and Magog in our
+chamber?
+
+_Trick._ A thief, I warrant you, who had gotten into the chest.
+
+_Wood._ Most certainly a thief; for, hearing my landlady cry out, I
+flew from my chamber to her help, and met him running down stairs, and
+then he turned back to the balcony, and leapt into the street.
+
+_Limb._ I thought, indeed, that something held down the chest, when I
+would have opened it:--But my writings are there still, that's one
+comfort.--Oh seignioro, are you here?
+
+_Wood._ Do you speak to me, sir?
+
+_Saint._ This is Mr Woodall, your new fellow-lodger.
+
+_Limb._ Cry you mercy, sir; I durst have sworn you could have spoken
+_lingua Franca_--I thought, in my conscience, Pug, this had been thy
+Italian _merchanto_.
+
+_Wood._ Sir, I see you mistake me for some other: I should be happy to
+be better known to you.
+
+_Limb._ Sir, I beg your pardon, with all my _hearto_. Before George, I
+was caught again there! But you are so very like a paltry fellow, who
+came to sell Pug essences this morning, that one would swear those
+eyes, and that nose and mouth, belonged to that rascal.
+
+_Wood._ You must pardon me, sir, if I do not much relish the close of
+your compliment.
+
+_Trick._ Their eyes are nothing like:--you'll have a quarrel.
+
+_Limb._ Not very like, I confess.
+
+_Trick._ Their nose and mouth are quite different.
+
+_Limb._ As Pug says, they are quite different, indeed; but I durst
+have sworn it had been he; and, therefore, once again, I demand your
+_pardono_.
+
+_Trick._ Come, let us go down; by this time Gervase has brought the
+smith, and then Mrs Pleasance may have her chest. Please you, sir, to
+bear us company.
+
+_Wood._ At your service, madam.
+
+_Limb._ Pray lead the way, sir.
+
+_Wood._ 'Tis against my will, sir; but I must leave you in possession.
+                                                            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY _and_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ Never fear it, I'll be a spy upon his actions; he shall
+neither whisper nor gloat on either of them, but I'll ring him such a
+peal!
+
+_Saint._ Above all things, have a care of him yourself; for surely
+there is witchcraft betwixt his lips: He is a wolf within the
+sheepfold; and therefore I will be earnest, that you may not fall.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Pleas._ Why should my mother be so inquisitive about this lodger? I
+half suspect old Eve herself has a mind to be nibbling at the pippin.
+He makes love to one of them, I am confident; it may be to both; for,
+methinks, I should have done so, if I had been a man; but the damned
+petticoats have perverted me to honesty, and therefore I have a grudge
+to him for the privilege of his sex. He shuns me, too, and that vexes
+me; for, though I would deny him, I scorn he should not think me worth
+a civil question.
+
+  _Re-enter_ WOODALL, _with_ TRICKSY, MRS BRAINSICK,
+  JUDITH, _and Music._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Come, your works, your works; they shall have the
+approbation of Mrs Pleasance.
+
+_Trick._ No more apologies; give Judith the words, she sings at sight.
+
+_Jud._ I'll try my skill.
+
+        A SONG FROM THE ITALIAN.
+
+  _By a dismal cypress lying,
+  Damon cried, all pale and dying,--
+  Kind is death, that ends my pain,
+  But cruel she I loved in vain.
+  The mossy fountains
+  Murmur my trouble,
+  And hollow mountains
+  My groans redouble:
+  Every nymph mourns me,
+  Thus while I languish;
+  She only scorns me,
+  Who caused my anguish.
+  No love returning me, but all hope denying;
+  By a dismal cypress lying,
+  Like a swan, so sung he dying,--
+  Kind is death, that ends my pain,
+  But cruel she I loved in vain._
+
+_Pleas._ By these languishing eyes, and those _simagres_ of yours, we
+are given to understand, sir, you have a mistress in this company;
+come, make a free discovery which of them your poetry is to charm, and
+put the other out of pain.
+
+_Trick._ No doubt 'twas meant to Mrs Brainsick.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ We wives are despicable creatures; we know it, madam,
+when a mistress is in presence.
+
+_Pleas._ Why this ceremony betwixt you? 'Tis a likely proper fellow,
+and looks as he could people a new isle of Pines[7].
+
+_Mrs Brain._ 'Twere a work of charity to convert a fair young
+schismatick, like you, if 'twere but to gain you to a better opinion
+of the government.
+
+_Pleas._ If I am not mistaken in you, too, he has works of charity
+enough upon his hands already; but 'tis a willing soul, I'll warrant
+him, eager upon the quarry, and as sharp as a governor of
+Covent-Garden.
+
+_Wood._ Sure this is not the phrase of your family! I thought to have
+found a sanctified sister; but I suspect now, madam, that if your
+mother kept a pension in your father's time, there might be some
+gentleman-lodger in the house; for I humbly conceive you are of the
+half-strain at least.
+
+_Pleas._ For all the rudeness of your language, I am resolved to know
+upon what voyage you are bound; your privateer of love, you Argier's
+man, that cruize up and down for prize in the Straitsmouth; which of
+the vessels would you snap now?
+
+_Trick._ We are both under safe convoy, madam; a lover and a husband.
+
+_Pleas._ Nay, for your part, you are notably guarded, I confess; but
+keepers have their rooks, as well as gamesters; but they only venture
+under them till they pick up a sum, and then push for themselves.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] A plague of her suspicions; they'll ruin me on that
+side.
+
+_Pleas._ So; let but little minx go proud, and the dogs in
+Covent-Garden have her in the wind immediately; all pursue the scent.
+
+_Trick._ Not to a boarding-house, I hope?
+
+_Pleas._ If they were wise, they would rather go to a brothel-house;
+for there most mistresses have left behind them their maiden-heads, of
+blessed memory: and those, which would not go off in that market, are
+carried about by bawds, and sold at doors, like stale flesh in
+baskets. Then, for your honesty, or justness, as you call it, to your
+keepers, your kept-mistress is originally a punk; and let the cat be
+changed into a lady never so formally, she still retains her natural
+property of mousing.
+
+_Mrs. Brain._ You are very sharp upon the mistresses; but I hope
+you'll spare the wives.
+
+_Pleas._ Yes, as much as your husbands do after the first month of
+marriage; but you requite their negligence in household-duties, by
+making them husbands of the first head, ere the year be over.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] She has me there, too!
+
+_Pleas._ And as for you, young gallant--
+
+_Wood._ Hold, I beseech you! a truce for me.
+
+_Pleas._ In troth, I pity you; for you have undertaken a most
+difficult task,--to cozen two women, who are no babies in their art:
+if you bring it about, you perform as much as he that cheated the very
+lottery.
+
+_Wood._ Ladies, I am sorry this should happen to you for my sake: She
+is in a raging fit, you see; 'tis best withdrawing, till the spirit of
+prophecy has left her.
+
+_Trick._ I'll take shelter in my chamber,--whither, I hope, he'll have
+the grace to follow me.                                      [_Aside._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ And now I think on't, I have some letters to dispatch.
+                          [_Exit_ TRICK. _and_ MRS BRAIN. _severally._
+
+_Pleas._ Now, good John among the maids, how mean you to bestow your
+time? Away to your study, I advise you; invoke your muses, and make
+madrigals upon absence.
+
+_Wood._ I would go to China, or Japan, to be rid of that impetuous
+clack of yours. Farewell, thou legion of tongues in one woman!
+
+_Pleas._ Will you not stay, sir? it may be I have a little business
+with you.
+
+_Wood._ Yes, the second part of the same tune! Strike by yourself,
+sweet larum; you're true bell-metal I warrant you.            [_Exit._
+
+_Pleas._ This spitefulness of mine will be my ruin: To rail them off,
+was well enough; but to talk him away, too! O tongue, tongue, thou
+wert given for a curse to all our sex!
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH.
+
+_Jud._ Madam, your mother would speak with you.
+
+_Pleas._ I will not come; I'm mad, I think; I come immediately. Well,
+I'll go in, and vent my passion, by railing at them, and him too.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Jud._ You may enter in safety, sir; the enemy's marched off.
+
+  _Re-enter_ WOODALL.
+
+_Wood._ Nothing, but the love I bear thy mistress, could keep me in
+the house with such a fury. When will the bright nymph appear?
+
+_Jud._ Immediately; I hear her coming.
+
+_Wood._ That I could find her coming, Mrs Judith!
+
+  _Enter_ MRS BRAINSICK.
+
+You have made me languish in expectation, madam. Was it nothing, do
+you think, to be so near a happiness, with violent desires, and to be
+delayed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Is it nothing, do you think, for a woman of honour, to
+overcome the ties of virtue and reputation; to do that for you, which
+I thought I should never have ventured for the sake of any man?
+
+_Wood._ But my comfort is, that love has overcome. Your honour is, in
+other words, but your good repute; and 'tis my part to take care of
+that: for the fountain of a woman's honour is in the lover, as that of
+the subject is in the king.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ You had concluded well, if you had been my husband: you
+know where our subjection lies.
+
+_Wood._ But cannot I be yours without a priest? They were cunning
+people, doubtless, who began that trade; to have a double hank upon
+us, for two worlds: that no pleasure here, or hereafter, should be
+had, without a bribe to them.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Well, I'm resolved, I'll read, against the next time I
+see you; for the truth is, I am not very well prepared with arguments
+for marriage; meanwhile, farewell.
+
+_Wood._ I stand corrected; you have reason indeed to go, if I can use
+my time no better: We'll withdraw if you please, and dispute the rest
+within.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Perhaps, I meant not so.
+
+_Wood,_ I understand your meaning at your eyes. You'll watch, Judith?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, if that were all, I expect not my husband till
+to-morrow. The truth is, he is so oddly humoured, that, if I were ill
+inclined, it would half justify a woman; he's such a kind of man!
+
+_Wood._ Or, if he be not, well make him such a kind of man.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ So fantastical, so musical, his talk all rapture, and
+half nonsense: like a clock out of order, set him a-going, and he
+strikes eternally. Besides, he thinks me such a fool, that I could
+half resolve to revenge myself, in justification of my wit.
+
+_Wood._ Come, come, no half resolutions among lovers; I'll hear no
+more of him, till I have revenged you fully. Go out and watch, Judith.
+                                                       [_Exit_ JUDITH.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Yet, I could say, in my defence, that my friends married
+me to him against my will.
+
+_Wood._ Then let us put your friends, too, into the quarrel: it shall
+go hard, but I'll give you a revenge for them.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH _again, hastily._
+
+How now? what's the matter?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Can'st thou not speak? hast thou seen a ghost?--As I
+live, she signs horns! that must be for my husband: he's returned.
+                             [JUDITH _looks ghastly, and signs horns._
+
+_Jud._ I would have told you so, if I could have spoken for fear.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Hark, a knocking! What shall we do?          [_Knocking._
+There's no dallying in this case: here you must not be found, that's
+certain; but Judith hath a chamber within mine; haste quickly thither;
+I'll secure the rest.
+
+_Jud._ Follow me, sir.                      [_Exeunt_ WOODALL, JUDITH.
+
+  _Knocking again. She opens: Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What's the matter, gentlewoman? Am I excluded from my own
+fortress; and by the way of barricado? Am I to dance attendance at the
+door, as if I were some base plebeian groom? I'll have you know, that,
+when my foot assaults, the lightning and the thunder are not so
+terrible as the strokes: brazen gates shall tremble, and bolts of
+adamant dismount from off their hinges, to admit me.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Who would have thought, that 'nown dear would have come
+so soon? I was even lying down on my bed, and dreaming of him. Tum a'
+me, and buss, poor dear; piddee buss.
+
+_Brain._ I nauseate these foolish feats of love.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, but why should he be so fretful now? and knows I
+dote on him? to leave a poor dear so long without him, and then come
+home in an angry humour! indeed I'll ky.
+
+_Brain._ Pr'ythee, leave thy fulsome fondness; I have surfeited on
+conjugal embraces.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I thought so: some light huswife has bewitched him from
+me: I was a little fool, so I was, to leave a dear behind at Barnet,
+when I knew the women would run mad for him.
+
+_Brain._ I have a luscious air forming, like a Pallas, in my
+brain-pain: and now thou com'st across my fancy, to disturb the rich
+ideas, with the yellow jaundice of thy jealousy.      [_Noise within._
+Hark, what noise is that within, about Judith's bed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I believe, dear, she's making it.--Would the fool would
+go!                                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Brain._ Hark, again!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside_] I have a dismal apprehension in my head, that
+he's giving my maid a cast of his office, in my stead. O, how it
+stings me!                                         [WOODALL _sneezes._
+
+_Brain._ I'll enter, and find the reason of this tumult.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Holding him._] Not for the world: there may be a thief
+there; and should I put 'nown dear in danger of his life?--What shall
+I do? betwixt the jealousy of my love, and fear of this fool, I am
+distracted: I must not venture them together, whatever comes on it.
+[_Aside._] Why Judith, I say! come forth, damsel.
+
+_Wood_. [_Within._] The danger's over; I may come out safely.
+
+_Jud._ [_Within._] Are you mad? you shall not.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] So, now I'm ruined unavoidably.
+
+_Brain._ Whoever thou art, I have pronounced thy doom; the dreadful
+Brainsick bares his brawny arm in tearing terror; kneeling queens in
+vain should beg thy being.--Sa, sa, there.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Though I believe he dares not venture in, yet
+I must not put it to the trial. Why Judith, come out, come out,
+huswife.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH, _trembling._
+
+What villain have you hid within?
+
+_Jud._ O Lord, madam, what shall I say?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ How should I know what you should say? Mr Brainsick has
+heard a man's voice within; if you know what he makes there, confess
+the truth; I am almost dead with fear, and he stands shaking.
+
+_Brain._ Terror, I! 'tis indignation shakes me. With this sabre I'll
+slice him as small as atoms; he shall be doomed by the judge, and
+damned upon the gibbet.
+
+_Jud._ [_Kneeling._] My master's so outrageous! sweet madam, do you
+intercede for me, and I'll tell you all in private.       [_Whispers._
+If I say it is a thief, he'll call up help; I know not what of the
+sudden to invent.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Let me alone.--And is this all? Why would you not confess
+it before, Judith? when you know I am an indulgent mistress.
+                                                            [_Laughs._
+
+_Brain._ What has she confessed?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ A venial love-trespass, dear: 'tis a sweetheart of hers;
+one that is to marry her; and she was unwilling I should know it, so
+she hid him in her chamber.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Aldo._ What's the matter trow? what, in martial posture, son
+Brainsick?
+
+_Jud._ Pray, father Aldo, do you beg my pardon of my master. I have
+committed a fault; I have hidden a gentleman in my chamber, who is to
+marry me without his friends' consent, and therefore came in private
+to me.
+
+_Aldo._ That thou should'st think to keep this secret! why, I know it
+as well as he that made thee.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Heaven be praised, for this knower of all
+things! Now will he lie three or four rapping volunteers, rather than
+be thought ignorant in any thing.
+
+_Brain._ Do you know his friends, father Aldo?
+
+_Aldo._ Know them! I think I do. His mother was an arch-deacon's
+daughter; as honest a woman as ever broke bread: she and I have been
+cater-cousins in our youth; we have tumbled together between a pair of
+sheets, i'faith.
+
+_Brain._ An honest woman, and yet you two have tumbled together! those
+are inconsistent.
+
+_Aldo._ No matter for that.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ He blunders; I must help him. [_Aside._] I warrant 'twas
+before marriage, that you were so great.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, and so it was: for she had the prettiest black
+mole upon her left ancle, it does me good to think on't! His father
+was squire What-d'ye-call-him, of what-d'ye-call-em shire. What think
+you, little Judith? do I know him now?
+
+_Jud._ I suppose you may be mistaken: my servant's father is a knight
+of Hampshire.
+
+_Aldo._ I meant of Hampshire. But that I should forget he was a
+knight, when I got him knighted, at the king's coming in! Two fat
+bucks, I am sure he sent me.
+
+_Brain._ And what's his name?
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, for that, you must excuse me; I must not disclose little
+Judith's secrets.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ All this while the poor gentleman is left in pain: we
+must let him out in secret; for I believe the young fellow is so
+bashful, he would not willingly be seen.
+
+_Jud._ The best way will be, for father Aldo to lend me the key of his
+door, which opens into my chamber; and so I can convey him out.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Giving her a key._] Do so, daughter. Not a word of my
+familiarity with his mother, to prevent bloodshed betwixt us: but I
+have her name down in my almanack, I warrant her.
+
+_Jud._ What, kiss and tell, father Aldo? kiss and tell!       [_Exit._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I'll go and pass an hour with Mrs Tricksy.       [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Brain._ What, the lusty lover Limberham!
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL, _at another door._
+
+_Aldo._ O here's a monsieur, new come over, and a fellow-lodger; I
+must endear you two to one another.
+
+_Brain._ Sir, 'tis my extreme ambition to be better known to you; you
+come out of the country I adore. And how does the dear Battist[8]? I
+long for some of his new compositions in the last opera. _A propos!_ I
+have had the most happy invention this morning, and a tune trouling in
+my head; I rise immediately in my night-gown and slippers, down I put
+the notes slap-dash, made words to them like lightning; and I warrant
+you have them at the circle in the evening.
+
+_Wood._ All were complete, sir, if S. Andre would make steps to them.
+
+_Brain._ Nay, thanks to my genius, that care's over: you shall see,
+you shall see. But first the air. [_Sings._] Is it not very fine? Ha,
+messieurs!
+
+_Limb._ The close of it is the most ravishing I ever heard!
+
+_Brain._ I dwell not on your commendations. What say you, sir? [_To_
+WOOD.] Is it not admirable? Do you enter into it?
+
+_Wood._ Most delicate cadence!
+
+_Brain._ Gad, I think so, without vanity. Battist and I have but one
+soul. But the close, the close! [_Sings it thrice over._] I have words
+too upon the air; but I am naturally so bashful!
+
+_Wood._ Will you oblige me, sir?
+
+_Brain._ You might command me, sir; for I sing too _en cavalier:_
+but--
+
+_Limb._ But you would be entreated, and say, _Nolo, nolo, nolo,_ three
+times, like any bishop, when your mouth waters at the diocese.
+
+_Brain._ I have no voice; but since this gentleman commands me, let
+the words commend themselves.                                [_Sings._
+  _My Phillis is charming--_
+
+_Limb._ But why, of all names, would you chuse a Phillis? There have
+been so many Phillises in songs, I thought there had not been another
+left, for love or money.
+
+_Brain._ If a man should listen to a fop!                    [_Sings._
+  _My Phillis--_
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I am on t'other side: I think, as good no song,
+as no Phillis.
+
+_Brain._ Yet again!--_My Phillis--_                          [_Sings._
+
+_Limb._ Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.
+
+_Brain._ [_Looking scornfully at him._] _My Phillis--_       [_Sings._
+
+_Limb._ You had as good call her your Succuba.
+
+_Brain._ _Morbleu!_ will you not give me leave? I am full of Phillis.
+[_Sings._] _My Phillis--_
+
+_Limb._ Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty name.
+
+_Brain._ _Diable!_ Now I will not sing, to spite you. By the world,
+you are not worthy of it. Well, I have a gentleman's fortune; I have
+courage, and make no inconsiderable figure in the world: yet I would
+quit my pretensions to all these, rather than not be author of this
+sonnet, which your rudeness has irrevocably lost.
+
+_Limb._ Some foolish French _quelque chose_, I warrant you.
+
+_Brain._ _Quelque chose!_ O ignorance, in supreme perfection! he means
+a _kek shose_[9].
+
+_Limb._ Why a _kek shoes_ let it be then! and a _kek shoes_ for your
+song.
+
+_Brain._ I give to the devil such a judge. Well, were I to be born
+again, I would as soon be the elephant, as a wit; he's less a monster
+in this age of malice. I could burn my sonnet, out of rage.
+
+_Limb._ You may use your pleasure with your own.
+
+_Wood._ His friends would not suffer him: Virgil was not permitted to
+burn his AEneids.
+
+_Brain._ Dear sir, I'll not die ungrateful for your approbation.
+[_Aside to_ WOOD.] You see this fellow? he is an ass already; he has a
+handsome mistress, and you shall make an ox of him ere long.
+
+_Wood._ Say no more, it shall be done.
+
+_Limb._ Hark you, Mr Woodall; this fool Brainsick grows insupportable;
+he's a public nuisance; but I scorn to set my wit against him: he has
+a pretty wife: I say no more; but if you do not graff him--
+
+_Wood._ A word to the wise: I shall consider him, for your sake.
+
+_Limb._ Pray do, sir: consider him much.
+
+_Wood._ Much is the word.--This feud makes well for me.      [_Aside._
+
+_Brain._ [_To_ WOOD.] I'll give you the opportunity, and rid you of
+him.--Come away, little Limberham; you, and I, and father Aldo, will
+take a turn together in the square.
+
+_Aldo._ We will follow you immediately.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, we will come after you, bully Brainsick: but I hope you
+will not draw upon us there.
+
+_Brain._ If you fear that, Bilbo shall be left behind.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, nay, leave but your madrigal behind: draw not that upon
+us, and it is no matter for your sword.                 [_Exit_ BRAIN.
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _and_ MRS BRAINSICK, _with a note for each._
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Both together! either of them, apart, had been my
+business: but I shall never play well at this three-hand game.
+
+_Limb._ O Pug, how have you been passing your time?
+
+_Trick._ I have been looking over the last present of orange gloves
+you made me; and methinks I do not like the scent.--O Lord, Mr
+Woodall, did you bring those you wear from Paris?
+
+_Wood._ Mine are Roman, madam.
+
+_Trick._ The scent I love, of all the world. Pray let me see them.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Nay, not both, good Mrs Tricksy; for I love that scent as
+well as you.
+
+_Wood._ [_Pulling them off, and giving each one._] I shall find two
+dozen more of women's gloves among my trifles, if you please to accept
+them, ladies.
+
+_Trick._ Look to it; we shall expect them.--Now to put in my
+_billet-doux!_
+
+_Mrs Brain._ So, now, I have the opportunity to thrust in my note.
+
+_Trick._ Here, sir, take your glove again; the perfume's too strong
+for me.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Pray take the other to it; though I should have kept it
+for a pawn.    [Mrs BRAINSICK'S _note falls out,_ LIMB. _takes it up._
+
+_Limb._ What have we here? [_Reads._] for Mr Woodall!
+
+_Both Women._ Hold, hold, Mr Limberham!             [_They snatch it._
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you shall read it.
+
+_Wood._ By your favour, sir, but he must not.
+
+_Trick._ He'll know my hand, and I am ruined!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Oh, my misfortune! Mr Woodall, will you suffer your
+secrets to be discovered!
+
+_Wood._ It belongs to one of them, that's certain.--Mr Limberham, I
+must desire you to restore this letter; it is from my mistress.
+
+_Trick._ The devil's in him; will he confess?
+
+_Wood._ This paper was sent me from her this morning; and I was so
+fond of it, that I left it in my glove: If one of the ladies had found
+it there, I should have been laughed at most unmercifully.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ That's well come off!
+
+_Limb._ My heart was at my mouth, for fear it had been Pug's.
+[_Aside._]--There 'tis again--Hold, hold; pray let me see it once
+more: a mistress, said you?
+
+_Aldo._ Yes, a mistress, sir. I'll be his voucher, he has a mistress,
+and a fair one too.
+
+_Limb._ Do you know it, father Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ Know it! I know the match is as good as made already: old
+Woodall and I are all one. You, son, were sent for over on purpose;
+the articles for her jointure are all concluded, and a friend of mine
+drew them.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if father Aldo knows it, I am satisfied.
+
+_Aldo._ But how came you by this letter, son Woodall? let me examine
+you.
+
+_Wood._ Came by it! (pox, he has _non-plus'd_ me!) How do you say I
+came by it, father Aldo?
+
+_Aldo._ Why, there's it, now. This morning I met your mistress's
+father, Mr you know who--
+
+_Wood._ Mr who, sir?
+
+_Aldo._ Nay, you shall excuse me for that; but we are intimate: his
+name begins with some vowel or consonant, no matter which: Well, her
+father gave me this very numerical letter, subscribed, for Mr.
+Woodall.
+
+_Limb._ Before George, and so it is.
+
+_Aldo._ Carry me this letter, quoth he, to your son Woodall; 'tis from
+my daughter such a one, and then whispered me her name.
+
+_Wood._ Let me see; I'll read it once again.
+
+_Limb._ What, are you not acquainted with the contents of it?
+
+_Wood._ O, your true lover will read you over a letter from his
+mistress, a thousand times.
+
+_Trick._ Ay, two thousand, if he be in the humour.
+
+_Wood._ Two thousand! then it must be hers. [_Reads to himself._]
+"Away to your chamber immediately, and I'll give my fool the
+slip."--The fool! that may be either the keeper, or the husband; but
+commonly the keeper is the greater. Humh! without subscription! it
+must be Tricksy.--Father Aldo, pr'ythee rid me of this coxcomb.
+
+_Aldo._ Come, son Limberham, we let our friend Brainsick walk too long
+alone: Shall we follow him? we must make haste; for I expect a whole
+bevy of whores, a chamber-full of temptation this afternoon: 'tis my
+day of audience.
+
+_Limb._ Mr Woodall, we leave you here--you remember?
+                                           [_Exeunt_ LIMB. _and_ ALDO.
+
+_Wood._ Let me alone.--Ladies, your servant; I have a little private
+business with a friend of mine.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Meaning me.--Well, sir, your servant.
+
+_Trick._ Your servant, till we meet again.        [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Mr_ WOODALL'S _Chamber._
+
+  _Mrs_ BRAINSICK _alone._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My note has taken, as I wished: he will be here
+immediately. If I could but resolve to lose no time, out of modesty;
+but it is his part to be violent, for both our credits. Never so
+little force and ruffling, and a poor weak woman is excused.
+[_Noise._] Hark, I hear him coming.--Ah me! the steps beat double: He
+comes not alone. If it should be my husband with him! where shall I
+hide myself? I see no other place, but under his bed: I must lie as
+silently as my fear will suffer me. Heaven send me safe again to my
+own chamber!                                  [_Creeps under the Bed._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Well, fortune at the last is favourable, and now you are my
+prisoner.
+
+_Trick._ After a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I shall have my
+liberty upon easy terms. But pray let us parley a little first.
+
+_Wood._ Let it be upon the bed then. Please you to sit?
+
+_Trick._ No matter where; I am never the nearer to your wicked
+purpose. But you men are commonly great comedians in love-matters;
+therefore you must swear, in the first place--
+
+_Wood._ Nay, no conditions: The fortress is reduced to extremity; and
+you must yield upon discretion, or I storm.
+
+_Trick._ Never to love any other woman.
+
+_Wood._ I kiss the book upon it. [_Kisses her. Mrs_ BRAIN. _pinches
+him from underneath the Bed._] Oh, are you at your love-tricks
+already? If you pinch me thus, I shall bite your lip.
+
+_Trick._ I did not pinch you: But you are apt, I see, to take any
+occasion of gathering up more close to me.--Next, you shall not so
+much as look on Mrs Brainsick.
+
+_Wood._ Have you done? these covenants are so tedious!
+
+_Trick._ Nay, but swear then.
+
+_Wood._ I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing. [_Mrs_ BRAIN. _runs
+a pin into him._] Oh, the devil! what do you mean to run pins into me?
+this is perfect caterwauling.
+
+_Trick._ You fancy all this; I would not hurt you for the world. Come,
+you shall see how well I love you. [_Kisses him: Mrs_ BRAIN. _pricks
+her._] Oh! I think you have needles growing in your bed.
+                                                      [_Both rise up._
+
+_Wood._ I will see what is the matter in it.
+
+_Saint._ [_Within._] Mr Woodall, where are you, verily?
+
+_Wood._ Pox verily her! it is my landlady: Here, hide yourself behind
+the curtains, while I run to the door, to stop her entry.
+
+_Trick._ Necessity has no law; I must be patient.
+             [_She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ In sadness, gentleman, I can hold no longer: I will not keep
+your wicked counsel, how you were locked up in the chest; for it lies
+heavy upon my conscience, and out it must, and shall.
+
+_Wood._ You may tell, but who will believe you? where's your witness?
+
+_Saint._ Verily, heaven is my witness.
+
+_Wood._ That's your witness too, that you would have allured me to
+lewdness, have seduced a hopeful young man, as I am; you would have
+enticed youth: Mark that, beldam.
+
+_Saint._ I care not; my single evidence is enough to Mr Limberham; he
+will believe me, that thou burnest in unlawful lust to his beloved: So
+thou shalt be an outcast from my family.
+
+_Wood._ Then will I go to the elders of thy church, and lay thee open
+before them, that thou didst feloniously unlock that chest, with
+wicked intentions of purloining: So thou shalt be excommunicated from
+the congregation, thou Jezebel, and delivered over to Satan.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, our teacher will not excommunicate me, for taking the
+spoils of the ungodly, to clothe him; for it is a judged case amongst
+us, that a married woman may steal from her husband, to relieve a
+brother. But yet them mayest atone this difference betwixt us; verily,
+thou mayest.
+
+_Wood._ Now thou art tempting me again. Well, if I had not the gift of
+continency, what might become of me?
+
+_Saint._ The means have been offered thee, and thou hast kicked with
+the heel. I will go immediately to the tabernacle of Mr Limberham, and
+discover thee, O thou serpent, in thy crooked paths.         [_Going._
+
+_Wood._ Hold, good landlady, not so fast; let me have time to consider
+on't; I may mollify, for flesh is frail. An hour or two hence we will
+confer together upon the premises.
+
+_Saint._ Oh, on the sudden, I feel myself exceeding sick! Oh! oh!
+
+_Wood._ Get you quickly to your closet, and fall to your _mirabilis_;
+this is no place for sick people. Begone, begone!
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I can go no farther.
+
+_Wood._ But you shall, verily. I will thrust you down, out of pure
+pity.
+
+_Saint._ Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops, and my back acheth!
+here I will lay me down, and rest me.
+                         [_Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed;_
+                          TRICKSY _shrieks, and rises; Mrs_ BRAIN.
+                          _rises from under the Bed in a fright._
+
+_Wood._ So! here's a fine business! my whole seraglio up in arms!
+
+_Saint._ So, so; if Providence had not sent me hither, what folly had
+been this day committed!
+
+_Trick._ Oh the old woman in the oven! we both overheard your pious
+documents: Did we not, Mrs Brainsick?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Yes, we did overhear her; and we will both testify
+against her.
+
+_Wood._ I have nothing to say for her. Nay, I told her her own; you
+can both bear me witness. If a sober man cannot be quiet in his own
+chamber for her--
+
+_Trick._ For, you know, sir, when Mrs Brainsick and I over-heard her
+coming, having been before acquainted with her wicked purpose, we both
+agreed to trap her in it.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ And now she would 'scape herself, by accusing us! but let
+us both conclude to cast an infamy upon her house, and leave it.
+
+_Saint._ Sweet Mr Woodall, intercede for me, or I shall be ruined.
+
+_Wood._ Well, for once I'll be good-natured, and try my interest.--
+Pray, ladies, for my sake, let this business go no farther.
+
+_Trick. and Mrs Brain._ You may command us.
+
+_Wood._ For, look you, the offence was properly to my person; and
+charity has taught me to forgive my enemies. I hope, Mrs Saintly, this
+will be a warning to you, to amend your life: I speak like a
+Christian, as one that tenders the welfare of your soul.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I will consider.
+
+_Wood._ Why, that is well said.--[_Aside._] Gad, and so must I too;
+for my people is dissatisfied, and my government in danger: But this
+is no place for meditation.--Ladies, I wait on you.         [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO _and_ GEOFFERY.
+
+_Aldo._ Despatch, Geoffery, despatch: The outlying punks will be upon
+us, ere I am in a readiness to give audience. Is the office well
+provided?
+
+_Geoff._ The stores are very low, sir: Some dolly petticoats, and
+manteaus we have; and half a dozen pair of laced shoes, bought from
+court at second hand.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, there is not enough to rig out a mournival of
+whores: They'll think me grown a mere curmudgeon. Mercy on me, how
+will this glorious trade be carried on, with such a miserable stock!
+
+_Geoff._ I hear a coach already stopping at the door.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, somewhat in ornament for the body, somewhat in counsel
+for the mind; one thing must help out another, in this bad world:
+Whoring must go on.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ OVERDON, _and her Daughter_ PRUE.
+
+_Mrs Over._ Ask blessing, Prue: He is the best father you ever had.
+
+_Aldo._ Bless thee, and make thee a substantial, thriving whore. Have
+your mother in your eye, Prue; it is good to follow good example. How
+old are you, Prue? Hold up your head, child.
+
+_Pru._ Going o'my sixteen, father Aldo.
+
+_Aldo._ And you have been initiated but these two years: Loss of time,
+loss of precious time! Mrs Overdon, how much have you made of Prue,
+since she has been man's meat?
+
+_Mrs Over._ A very small matter, by my troth; considering the charges
+I have been at in her education: Poor Prue was born under an unlucky
+planet; I despair of a coach for her. Her first maiden-head brought me
+in but little, the weather-beaten old knight, that bought her of me,
+beat down the price so low. I held her at an hundred guineas, and he
+bid ten; and higher than thirty would not rise.
+
+_Aldo._ A pox of his unlucky handsel! He can but fumble, and will not
+pay neither.
+
+_Pru._ Hang him; I could never endure him, father: He is the filthiest
+old goat; and then he comes every day to our house, and eats out his
+thirty guineas; and at three months end, he threw me off.
+
+_Mrs Over._ And since then, the poor child has dwindled, and dwindled
+away. Her next maiden-head brought me but ten; and from ten she fell
+to five; and at last to a single guinea: She has no luck to keeping;
+they all leave her, the more my sorrow.
+
+_Aldo._ We must get her a husband then in the city; they bite rarely
+at a stale whore at this end of the town, new furbished up in a tawdry
+manteau.
+
+_Mrs Over._ No: Pray let her try her fortune a little longer in the
+world first: By my troth, I should be loth to be at all this cost, in
+her French, and her singing, to have her thrown away upon a husband.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, there can come no good of your swearing, Mrs
+Overdon: Say your prayers, Prue, and go duly to church o'Sundays,
+you'll thrive the better all the week. Come, have a good heart, child;
+I will keep thee myself: Thou shalt do my little business; and I'll
+find thee an able young fellow to do thine.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ PAD.
+
+Daughter Pad, you are welcome: What, you have performed the last
+Christian office to your keeper; I saw you follow him up the heavy
+hill to Tyburn. Have you had never a business since his death?
+
+_Mrs Pad._ No indeed, father; never since execution-day. The night
+before, we lay together most lovingly in Newgate; and the next morning
+he lift up his eyes, and prepared his soul with a prayer, while one
+might tell twenty; and then mounted the cart as merrily, as if he had
+been going for a purse.
+
+_Aldo._ You are a sorrowful widow, daughter Pad; but I'll take care of
+you.--Geoffery, see her rigged out immediately for a new voyage: Look
+in figure 9, in the upper drawer, and give her out the flowered
+justacorps, with the petticoat belonging to it.
+
+_Mrs Pad._ Could you not help to prefer me, father?
+
+_Aldo._ Let me see--let me see:--Before George, I have it, and it
+comes as pat too! Go me to the very judge that sate upon him; it is an
+amorous, impotent old magistrate, and keeps admirably. I saw him leer
+upon you from the bench: He will tell you what is sweeter than
+strawberries and cream, before you part.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ TERMAGANT.
+
+_Mrs Term._ O father, I think I shall go mad.
+
+_Aldo._ You are of the violentest temper, daughter Termagant! When had
+you a business last?
+
+_Mrs Term._ The last I had was with young Caster, that son-of-a-whore
+gamester: he brought me to taverns, to draw in young cullies, while he
+bubbled them at play; and, when he had picked up a considerable sum,
+and should divide, the cheating dog would sink my share, and
+swear,--Damn him, he won nothing.
+
+_Aldo._ Unconscionable villain, to cozen you in your own calling!
+
+_Mrs Term._ When he loses upon the square, he comes home zoundsing and
+blooding; first beats me unmercifully, and then squeezes me to the
+last penny. He has used me so, that, Gad forgive me, I could almost
+forswear my trade. The rogue starves me too: He made me keep Lent last
+year till Whitsuntide, and out-faced me with oaths it was but Easter.
+And what mads me most, I carry a bastard of the rogue's in my belly;
+and now he turns me off, and will not own it.
+
+_Mrs Over._ Lord, how it quops! you are half a year gone, madam.--
+                                      [_Laying her hand on her belly._
+
+_Mrs Term._ I feel the young rascal kicking already, like his
+father.--Oh, there is an elbow thrusting out: I think, in my
+conscience, he is palming and topping in my belly; and practising for
+a livelihood, before he comes into the world.
+
+_Aldo._ Geoffery, set her down in the register, that I may provide her
+a mid-wife, and a dry and wet nurse: When you are up again, as heaven
+send you a good hour, we will pay him off at law, i'faith. You have
+him under black and white, I hope?
+
+_Mrs Term._ Yes, I have a note under his hand for two hundred pounds.
+
+_Aldo._ A note under his hand! that is a chip in porridge; it is just
+nothing.--Look, Geoffery, to the figure 12, for old half-shirts for
+childbed linen.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ HACKNEY.
+
+_Hack._ O, madam Termagant, are you here? Justice, father Aldo,
+justice!
+
+_Aldo._ Why, what is the matter, daughter Hackney?
+
+_Hack._ She has violated the law of nations; for yesterday she
+inveigled my own natural cully from me, a married lord, and made him
+false to my bed, father.
+
+_Term._ Come, you are an illiterate whore. He is my lord now; and,
+though you call him fool, it is well known he is a critic,
+gentlewoman. You never read a play in all your life; and I gained him
+by my wit, and so I'll keep him.
+
+_Hack._ My comfort is, I have had the best of him; he can take up no
+more, till his father dies: And so, much good may do you with my
+cully, and my clap into the bargain.
+
+_Aldo._ Then there is a father for your child, my lord's son and heir
+by Mr Caster. But henceforward, to preserve peace betwixt you, I
+ordain, that you shall ply no more in my daughter Hackney's quarters:
+You shall have the city, from White-Chapel to Temple-Bar, and she
+shall have to Covent-Garden downwards: At the play-houses, she shall
+ply the boxes, because she has the better face; and you shall have the
+pit, because you can prattle best out of a vizor mask.
+
+_Mrs Pad._ Then all friends, and confederates. Now let us have father
+Aldo's delight, and so adjourn the house.
+
+_Aldo._ Well said, daughter.--Lift up your voices, and sing like
+nightingales, you tory rory jades. Courage, I say; as long as the
+merry pence hold out, you shall none of you die in Shoreditch.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL.
+
+A hey, boys, a hey! here he comes, that will swinge you all! down, you
+little jades, and worship him; it is the genius of whoring.
+
+_Wood._ And down went chairs and table, and out went every candle. Ho,
+brave old patriarch in the middle of the church militant! whores of
+all sorts; forkers and ruin-tailed: Now come I gingling in with my
+bells, and fly at the whole covey.
+
+_Aldo._ A hey, a hey, boys! the town's thy own; burn, ravish, and
+destroy!
+
+_Wood._ We will have a night of it, like Alexander, when he burnt
+Persepolis: _tuez, tuez, tuez! point de quartier._
+          [_He runs in amongst them, and they scuttle about the room._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY, PLEASANCE, JUDITH, _with Broom-sticks._
+
+_Saint._ What, in the midst of Sodom! O thou lewd young man! my
+indignation boils over against these harlots; and thus I sweep them
+from out my family.
+
+_Pleas._ Down with the Suburbians, down with them.
+
+_Aldo._ O spare my daughters, Mrs Saintly! Sweet Mrs Pleasance, spare
+my flesh and blood!
+
+_Wood._ Keep the door open, and help to secure the retreat, father:
+There is no pity to be expected.    [_The Whores run out, followed by_
+                                     SAINTLY, PLEASANCE, _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Aldo._ Welladay, welladay! one of my daughters is big with bastard,
+and she laid at her gascoins most unmercifully! every stripe she had,
+I felt it: The first fruit of whoredom is irrecoverably lost!
+
+_Wood._ Make haste, and comfort her.
+
+_Aldo._ I will, I will; and yet I have a vexatious business, which
+calls me first another way. The rogue, my son, is certainly come over;
+he has been seen in town four days ago.
+
+_Wood._ It is impossible: I'll not believe it.
+
+_Aldo._ A friend of mine met his old man, Giles, this very morning, in
+quest of me; and Giles assured him, his master is lodged in this very
+street.
+
+_Wood._ In this very street! how knows he that?
+
+_Aldo._ He dogged him to the corner of it; and then my son turned
+back, and threatened him. But I'll find out Giles, and then I'll make
+such an example of my reprobate!                              [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ If Giles be discovered, I am undone!--Why, Gervase, where are
+you, sirrah! Hey, hey!
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE.
+
+Run quickly to that betraying rascal Giles, a rogue, who would take
+Judas's bargain out of his hands, and undersell him. Command him
+strictly to mew himself up in his lodgings, till farther orders: and
+in case he be refractory, let him know, I have not forgot to kick and
+cudgel. That _memento_ would do well for you too, sirrah.
+
+_Gerv._ Thank your worship; you have always been liberal of your hands
+to me.
+
+_Wood._ And you have richly deserved it.
+
+_Gerv._ I will not say, who has better deserved it of my old master.
+
+_Wood._ Away, old Epictetus, about your business, and leave your musty
+morals, or I shall--
+
+_Gerv._ Nay, I won't forfeit my own wisdom so far as to suffer for it.
+Rest you merry: I'll do my best, and heaven mend all.         [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, I have waited till you were alone, and am come to
+rebuke you, out of the zeal of my spirit.
+
+_Wood._ It is the spirit of persecution. Dioclesian, and Julian the
+apostate, were but types of thee. Get thee hence, thou old Geneva
+testament: thou art a part of the ceremonial law, and hast been
+abolished these twenty years.
+
+_Saint._ All this is nothing, sir. I am privy to your plots: I'll
+discover them to Mr Limberham, and make the house too hot for you.
+
+_Wood._ What, you can talk in the language of the world, I see!
+
+_Saint._ I can, I can, sir; and in the language of the flesh and devil
+too, if you provoke me to despair: You must, and shall be mine, this
+night.
+
+_Wood._ The very ghost of queen Dido in the ballad.[10]
+
+_Saint._ Delay no longer, or--
+
+_Wood._ Or! you will not swear, I hope?
+
+_Saint._ Uds-niggers but I will; and that so loud, that Mr Limberham
+shall hear me.
+
+_Wood._ Uds-niggers, I confess, is a very dreadful oath. You could lie
+naturally before, as you are a fanatic; if you can swear such rappers
+too, there is hope of you; you may be a woman of the world in time.
+Well, you shall be satisfied, to the utmost farthing, to-night, and in
+your own chamber.
+
+_Saint._ Or, expect to-morrow--
+
+_Wood._ All shall be atoned ere then. Go, provide the bottle of clary,
+the Westphalia ham, and other fortifications of nature; we shall see
+what may be done. What! an old woman must not be cast away.
+                                                        [_Chucks her._
+
+_Saint._ Then, verily, I am appeased.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, no relapsing into verily; that is in our bargain. Look
+how she weeps for joy! It is a good old soul, I warrant her.
+
+_Saint._ You will not fail?
+
+_Wood._ Dost thou think I have no compassion for thy gray hairs? Away,
+away; our love may be discovered: We must avoid scandal; it is thy own
+maxim.                                                [_Exit_ SAINTLY.
+They are all now at ombre; and Brainsick's maid has promised to send
+her mistress up.
+
+  _Enter_ PLEASANCE.
+
+That fury here again!
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I'll conquer my proud spirit, I am resolved on it,
+and speak kindly to him.--What, alone, sir! If my company be not
+troublesome; or a tender young creature, as I am, may safely trust
+herself with a man of such prowess, in love affairs--It wonnot be.
+
+_Wood._ So! there is one broadside already: I must sheer off.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Pleas._ What, you have been pricking up and down here upon a cold
+scent[11]; but, at last, you have hit it off, it seems! Now for a fair
+view at the wife or mistress: up the wind, and away with it: Hey,
+Jowler!--I think I am bewitched, I cannot hold.
+
+_Wood._ Your servant, your servant, madam: I am in a little haste at
+present.                                                     [_Going._
+
+_Pleas._ Pray resolve me first, for which of them you lie in ambush;
+for, methinks, you have the mien of a spider in her den. Come, I know
+the web is spread, and whoever comes, Sir Cranion stands ready to dart
+out, hale her in, and shed his venom.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] But such a terrible wasp, as she, will spoil the
+snare, if I durst tell her so.
+
+_Pleas._ It is unconscionably done of me, to debar you the freedom and
+civilities of the house. Alas, poor gentleman! to take a lodging at so
+dear a rate, and not to have the benefit of his bargain!--Mischief on
+me, what needed I have said that?                            [_Aside._
+
+_Wood._ The dialogue will go no farther. Farewell, gentle, quiet lady.
+
+_Pleas._ Pray stay a little; I'll not leave you thus.
+
+_Wood._ I know it; and therefore mean to leave you first.
+
+_Pleas._ O, I find it now! you are going to set up your bills, like a
+love-mountebank, for the speedy cure of distressed widows, old ladies,
+and languishing maids in the green-sickness: a sovereign remedy.
+
+_Wood._ That last, for maids, would be thrown away: Few of your age
+are qualified for the medicine. What the devil would you be at, madam?
+
+_Pleas._ I am in the humour of giving you good counsel. The wife can
+afford you but the leavings of a fop; and to a witty man, as you think
+yourself, that is nauseous: The mistress has fed upon a fool so long,
+she is carrion too, and common into the bargain. Would you beat a
+ground for game in the afternoon, when my lord mayor's pack had been
+before you in the morning?
+
+_Wood._ I had rather sit five hours at one of his greasy feasts, then
+hear you talk.
+
+_Pleas._ Your two mistresses keep both shop and warehouse; and what
+they cannot put off in gross, to the keeper and the husband, they sell
+by retail to the next chance-customer. Come, are you edified?
+
+_Wood._ I am considering how to thank you for your homily; and, to
+make a sober application of it, you may have some laudable design
+yourself in this advice.
+
+_Pleas._ Meaning, some secret inclination to that amiable person of
+yours?
+
+_Wood._ I confess, I am vain enough to hope it; for why should you
+remove the two dishes, but to make me fall more hungrily on the third?
+
+_Pleas._ Perhaps, indeed, in the way of honour--
+
+_Wood._ Paw, paw! that word honour has almost turned my stomach: it
+carries a villainous interpretation of matrimony along with it. But,
+in a civil way, I could be content to deal with you, as the church
+does with the heads of your fanatics, offer you a lusty benefice to
+stop your mouth; if fifty guineas, and a courtesy more worth, will win
+you.
+
+_Pleas._ Out upon thee! fifty guineas! Dost thou think I'll sell
+myself? And at a playhouse price too? Whenever I go, I go all
+together: No cutting from the whole piece; he who has me shall have
+the fag-end with the rest, I warrant him. Be satisfied, thy sheers
+shall never enter into my cloth. But, look to thyself, thou impudent
+belswagger: I will he revenged; I will.                       [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ The maid will give warning, that is my comfort; for she is
+bribed on my side. I have another kind of love to this girl, than to
+either of the other two; but a fanatic's daughter, and the noose of
+matrimony, are such intolerable terms! O, here she comes, who will
+sell me better cheap.
+
+
+SCENE _opens to_ BRAINSICK'S _Apartment._
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ How now, sir? what impudence is this of yours, to
+approach my lodgings?
+
+_Wood._ You lately honoured mine; and it is the part of a well-bred
+man, to return your visit.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ If I could have imagined how base a fellow you had been,
+you should not then have been troubled with my company.
+
+_Wood._ How could I guess, that you intended me the favour, without
+first acquainting me?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Could I do it, ungrateful as you are, with more
+obligation to you, or more hazard to myself, than by putting my note
+into your glove?
+
+_Wood._ Was it yours, then? I believed it came from Mrs Tricksy.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ You wished it so; which made you so easily believe it. I
+heard the pleasant dialogue betwixt you.
+
+_Wood._ I am glad you did; for you could not but observe, with how
+much care I avoided all occasions of railing at you; to which she
+urged me, like a malicious woman, as she was.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ By the same token, you vowed and swore never to look on
+Mrs Brainsick!
+
+_Wood._ But I had my mental reservations in a readiness. I had vowed
+fidelity to you before; and there went my second oath, i'faith: it
+vanished in a twinkling, and never gnawed my conscience in the least.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Well, I shall never heartily forgive you.
+
+_Jud._ [_Within._] Mr Brainsick, Mr Brainsick, what do you mean, to
+make my lady lose her game thus? Pray, come back, and take up her
+cards again.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My husband, as I live! Well, for all my quarrel to you,
+step immediately into that little dark closet: it is for my private
+occasions; there is no lock, but he will not stay.
+
+_Wood._ Thus am I ever tantalized!                         [_Goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What, am I become your drudge? your slave? the property of
+all your pleasures? Shall I, the lord and master of your life, become
+subservient; and the noble name of husband be dishonoured? No, though
+all the cards were kings and queens, and Indies to be gained by every
+deal--
+
+_Mrs Brain._ My dear, I am coming to do my duty. I did but go up a
+little, (I whispered you for what) and am returning immediately.
+
+_Brain._ Your sex is but one universal ordure, a nuisance, and
+incumbrance of that majestic creature, man: yet I myself am mortal
+too. Nature's necessities have called me up; produce your utensil of
+urine.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ It is not in the way, child: You may go down into the
+garden.
+
+_Brain._ The voyage is too far: though the way were paved with pearls
+and diamonds, every step of mine is precious, as the march of
+monarchs.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Then my steps, which are not so precious, shall be
+employed for you: I will call up Judith.
+
+_Brain._ I will not dance attendance. At the present, your closet
+shall be honoured.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ O lord, dear, it is not worthy to receive such a man as
+you are.
+
+_Brain._ Nature presses; I am in haste.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ He must be discovered, and I unavoidably undone!
+                                                             [_Aside._
+                            [BRAINSICK _goes to the door, and_ WOODALL
+                             _meets him: She shrieks out._
+
+_Brain._ Monsieur Woodall!
+
+_Wood._ Sir, begone, and make no noise, or you will spoil all.
+
+_Brain._ Spoil all, quotha! what does he mean, in the name of wonder?
+
+_Wood._ [_Taking him aside._] Hark you, Mr Brainsick, is the devil in
+you, that you and your wife come hither, to disturb my intrigue, which
+you yourself engaged me in, with Mrs Tricksy, to revenge you on
+Limberham? Why, I had made an appointment with her here; but, hearing
+somebody come up, I retired into the closet, till I was satisfied it
+was not the keeper.
+
+_Brain._ But why this intrigue in my wife's chamber?
+
+_Wood._ Why, you turn my brains, with talking to me of your wife's
+chamber! do you lie in common? the wife and husband, the keeper and
+the mistress?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I am afraid they are quarrelling; pray heaven I get off.
+
+_Brain._ Once again, I am the sultan of this place: Mr Limberham is
+the mogul of the next mansion.
+
+_Wood._ Though I am a stranger in the house, it is impossible I should
+be so much mistaken: I say, this is Limberham's lodging.
+
+_Brain._ You would not venture a wager of ten pounds, that you are not
+mistaken?
+
+_Wood._ It is done: I will lay you.
+
+_Brain._ Who shall be judge?
+
+_Wood._ Who better than your wife? She cannot be partial, because she
+knows not on which side you have laid.
+
+_Brain._ Content.--Come hither, lady mine: Whose lodgings are these?
+who is lord, and grand seignior of them?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Aside._] Oh, goes it there?--Why should you ask me such
+a question, when every body in the house can tell they are 'nown
+dear's?
+
+_Brain._ Now are you satisfied? Children and fools, you know the
+proverb--
+
+_Wood._ Pox on me! nothing but such a positive coxcomb as I am, would
+have laid his money upon such odds; as if you did not know your own
+lodgings better than I, at half a day's warning! And that which vexes
+me more than the loss of my money, is the loss of my adventure!
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Brain._ It shall be spent: We will have a treat with it. This is a
+fool of the first magnitude.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Let my own dear alone, to find a fool out.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ Bully Brainsick, Pug has sent me to you on an embassy, to
+bring you down to cards again; she is in her mulligrubs already; she
+will never forgive you the last _vol_ you won. It is but losing a
+little to her, out of complaisance, as they say, to a fair lady; and
+whatever she wins, I will make up to you again in private.
+
+_Brain._ I would not be that slave you are, to enjoy the treasures of
+the east. The possession of Peru, and of Potosi, should not buy me to
+the bargain.
+
+_Limb._ Will you leave your perboles, and come then?
+
+_Brain._ No; for I have won a wager, to be spent luxuriously at
+Long's; with Pleasance of the party, and Termagant Tricksy; and I will
+pass, in person, to the preparation: Come, matrimony.
+                                     [_Exeunt_ BRAINSICK, _Mrs_ BRAIN.
+
+  _Enter_ SAINTLY, _and_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ To him: I'll second you: now for mischief!
+
+_Saint._ Arise, Mr Limberham, arise; for conspiracies are hatched
+against you, and a new Faux is preparing to blow up your happiness.
+
+_Limb._ What is the matter, landlady? Pr'ythee, speak good honest
+English, and leave thy canting.
+
+_Saint._ Verily, thy beloved is led astray, by the young man Woodall,
+that vessel of uncleanness: I beheld them communing together; she
+feigned herself sick, and retired to her tent in the garden-house; and
+I watched her out-going, and behold he followed her.
+
+_Pleas._ Do you stand unmoved, and hear all this?
+
+_Limb._ Before George, I am thunder-struck!
+
+_Saint._ Take to thee thy resolution, and avenge thyself.
+
+_Limb._ But give me leave to consider first: A man must do nothing
+rashly.
+
+_Pleas._ I could tear out the villain's eyes, for dishonouring you,
+while you stand considering, as you call it. Are you a man, and suffer
+this?
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I am a man; but a man's but a man, you know: I am
+recollecting myself, how these things can be.
+
+_Saint._ How they can be! I have heard them; I have seen them.
+
+_Limb._ Heard them, and seen them! It may be so; but yet I cannot
+enter into this same business: I am amazed, I must confess; but the
+best is, I do not believe one word of it.
+
+_Saint._ Make haste, and thine own eyes shall testify against her.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if my own eyes testify, it may be so:--but it is
+impossible, however; for I am making a settlement upon her, this very
+day.
+
+_Pleas._ Look, and satisfy yourself, ere you make that settlement on
+so false a creature.
+
+_Limb._ But yet, if I should look, and not find her false, then I must
+cast in another hundred, to make her satisfaction.
+
+_Pleas._ Was there ever such a meek, hen-hearted creature!
+
+_Saint._ Verily, thou has not the spirit of a cock-chicken.
+
+_Limb._ Before George, but I have the spirit of a lion, and I will
+tear her limb from limb--if I could believe it.
+
+_Pleas._ Love, jealousy, and disdain, how they torture me at once! and
+this insensible creature--were I but in his place--[_To him._] Think,
+that this very instant she is yours no more: Now, now she is giving up
+herself, with so much violence of love, that if thunder roared, she
+could not hear it.
+
+_Limb._ I have been whetting all this while: They shall be so taken in
+the manner, that Mars and Venus shall be nothing to them.
+
+_Pleas._ Make haste; go on then.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I will go on;--and yet my mind misgives me plaguily.
+
+_Saint._ Again backsliding!
+
+_Pleas._ Have you no sense of honour in you?
+
+_Limb._ Well, honour is honour, and I must go: But I shall never get
+me such another Pug again! O, my heart! my poor tender heart! it is
+just breaking with Pug's unkindness!             [_They drag him out._
+
+
+SCENE II.--WOODALL _and_ TRICKSY _discovered in the Garden-house._
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE _to them._
+
+_Gerv._ Make haste, and save yourself, sir; the enemy's at hand: I
+have discovered him from the corner, where you set me sentry.
+
+_Wood._ Who is it?
+
+_Gerv._ Who should it be, but Limberham? armed with a two-hand fox. O
+Lord, O Lord!
+
+_Trick._ Enter quickly into the still-house, both of you, and leave me
+to him: There is a spring-lock within, to open it when we are gone.
+
+_Wood._ Well, I have won the party and revenge, however: A minute
+longer, and I had won the tout.     [_They go in: She locks the Door._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM, _with a great Sword._
+
+_Limb._ Disloyal Pug!
+
+_Trick._ What humour is this? you are drunk, it seems: Go sleep.
+
+_Limb._ Thou hast robbed me of my repose for ever: I am like Macbeth,
+after the death of good king Duncan; methinks a voice says to
+me,--Sleep no more; Tricksy has murdered sleep.
+
+_Trick._ Now I find it: You are willing to save your settlement, and
+are sent by some of your wise counsellors, to pick a quarrel with me.
+
+_Limb._ I have been your cully above these seven years; but, at last,
+my eyes are opened to your witchcraft; and indulgent heaven has taken
+care of my preservation. In short, madam, I have found you out; and,
+to cut off preambles, produce your adulterer.
+
+_Trick._ If I have any, you know him best: You are the only ruin of my
+reputation. But if I have dishonoured my family, for the love of you,
+methinks you should be the last man to upbraid me with it.
+
+_Limb._ I am sure you are of the family of your abominable great
+grandam Eve; but produce the man, or, by my father's soul--
+
+_Trick._ Still I am in the dark.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, you have been in the dark; I know it: But I shall bring
+you to light immediately.
+
+_Trick._ You are not jealous?
+
+_Limb._ No; I am too certain to be jealous: But you have a man here,
+that shall be nameless; let me see him.
+
+_Trick._ Oh, if that be your business, you had best search: And when
+you have wearied yourself, and spent your idle humour, you may find me
+above, in my chamber, and come to ask my pardon.             [_Going._
+
+_Limb._ You may go, madam; but I shall beseech your ladyship to leave
+the key of the still-house door behind you: I have a mind to some of
+the sweet-meats you have locked up there; you understand me. Now, for
+the old dog-trick! you have lost the key, I know already, but I am
+prepared for that; you shall know you have no fool to deal with.
+
+_Trick._ No; here is the key: Take it, and satisfy your foolish
+curiosity.
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] This confidence amazes me! If those two gipsies
+have abused me, and I should not find him there now, this would make
+an immortal quarrel.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] I have put him to a stand.
+
+_Limb._ Hang it, it is no matter; I will be satisfied: If it comes to
+a rupture, I know the way to buy my peace. Pug, produce the key.
+
+_Trick._ [_Takes him about the neck._] My dear, I have it for you:
+come, and kiss me. Why would you be so unkind to suspect my faith now!
+when I have forsaken all the world for you.--[_Kiss again._] But I am
+not in the mood of quarrelling to-night; I take this jealousy the best
+way, as the effect of your passion. Come up, and we will go to bed
+together, and be friends.                               [_Kiss again._
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] Pug is in a pure humour to-night, and it would vex
+a man to lose it; but yet I must be satisfied:--and therefore, upon
+mature consideration, give me the key.
+
+_Trick._ You are resolved, then?
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I am resolved; for I have sworn to myself by Styx; and
+that is an irrevocable oath.
+
+_Trick._ Now, see your folly: There's the key.        [_Gives it him._
+
+_Limb._ Why, that is a loving Pug; I will prove thee innocent
+immediately: And that will put an end to all controversies betwixt us.
+
+_Trick._ Yes, it shall put an end to all our quarrels: Farewell for
+the last time, sir. Look well upon my face, that you may remember it;
+for, from this time forward, I have sworn it irrevocably too, that you
+shall never see it more.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, but hold a little, Pug. What's the meaning of this new
+commotion?
+
+_Trick._ No more; but satisfy your foolish fancy, for you are master:
+and, besides, I am willing to be justified.
+
+_Limb._ Then you shall be justified.      [_Puts the Key in the Door._
+
+_Trick._ I know I shall: Farewell.
+
+_Limb._ But, are you sure you shall?
+
+_Trick._ No, no, he is there: You'll find him up in the chimney, or
+behind the door; or, it may be, crowded into some little galley-pot.
+
+_Limb._ But you will not leave me, if I should look?
+
+_Trick._ You are not worthy my answer: I am gone.        [_Going out._
+
+_Limb._ Hold, hold, divine Pug, and let me recollect a little.--This
+is no time for meditation neither: while I deliberate, she may be
+gone. She must be innocent, or she could never be so confident and
+careless.--Sweet Pug, forgive me.                           [_Kneels._
+
+_Trick._ I am provoked too far.
+
+_Limb._ It is the property of a goddess to forgive. Accept of this
+oblation; with this humble kiss, I here present it to thy fair hand: I
+conclude thee innocent without looking, and depend wholly upon thy
+mercy.                                              [_Offers the Key._
+
+_Trick._ No, keep it, keep it: the lodgings are your own.
+
+_Limb._ If I should keep it, I were unworthy of forgiveness: I will no
+longer hold this fatal instrument of our separation.
+
+_Trick._ [_Taking it._] Rise, sir: I will endeavour to overcome my
+nature, and forgive you; for I am so scrupulously nice in love, that
+it grates my very soul to be suspected: Yet, take my counsel, and
+satisfy yourself.
+
+_Limb._ I would not be satisfied, to be possessor of Potosi, as my
+brother Brainsick says. Come to bed, dear Pug.--Now would not I change
+my condition, to be an eastern monarch!                     [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.
+
+_Gerv._ O lord, sir, are we alive!
+
+_Wood._ Alive! why, we were never in any danger: Well, she is a rare
+manager of a fool!
+
+_Gerv._ Are you disposed yet to receive good counsel? Has affliction
+wrought upon you?
+
+_Wood._ Yes, I must ask thy advice in a most important business. I
+have promised a charity to Mrs Saintly, and she expects it with a
+beating heart a-bed: Now, I have at present no running cash to throw
+away; my ready money is all paid to Mrs Tricksy, and the bill is drawn
+upon me for to-night.
+
+_Gerv._ Take advice of your pillow.
+
+_Wood._ No, sirrah; since you have not the grace to offer yours, I
+will for once make use of my authority and command you to perform the
+foresaid drudgery in my place.
+
+_Gerv._ Zookers, I cannot answer it to my conscience.
+
+_Wood._ Nay, an your conscience can suffer you to swear, it shall
+suffer you to lie too: I mean in this sense. Come, no denial, you must
+do it; she is rich, and there is a provision for your life.
+
+_Gerv._ I beseech you, sir, have pity on my soul.
+
+_Wood._ Have you pity of your body: There is all the wages you must
+expect.
+
+_Gerv._ Well, sir, you have persuaded me: I will arm my conscience
+with a resolution of making her an honourable amends by marriage; for
+to-morrow morning a parson shall authorise my labours, and turn
+fornication into duty. And, moreover, I will enjoin myself, by way of
+penance, not to touch her for seven nights after.
+
+_Wood._ Thou wert predestinated for a husband, I see, by that natural
+instinct: As we walk, I will instruct thee how to behave thyself, with
+secrecy and silence.
+
+_Gerv._ I have a key of the garden, to let us out the back-way into
+the street, and so privately to our lodging.
+
+_Wood._ 'Tis well: I will plot the rest of my affairs a-bed; for it is
+resolved that Limberham shall not wear horns alone: and I am impatient
+till I add to my trophy the spoils of Brainsick.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Jud._ Well, you are a lucky man! Mrs Brainsick is fool enough to
+believe you wholly innocent; and that the adventure of the
+garden-house, last night, was only a vision of Mrs Saintly's.
+
+_Wood._ I knew, if I could once speak with her, all would be set right
+immediately; for, had I been there, look you--
+
+_Jud._ As you were, most certainly.
+
+_Wood._ Limberham must have found me out; that _fe-fa-fum_ of a keeper
+would have smelt the blood of a cuckold-maker: They say, he was
+peeping and butting about in every cranny.
+
+_Jud._ But one. You must excuse my unbelief, though Mrs Brainsick is
+better satisfied. She and her husband, you know, went out this morning
+to the New Exchange: There she has given him the slip; and pretending
+to call at her tailor's to try her stays for a new gown--
+
+_Wood._ I understand thee;--she fetched me a short turn, like a hare
+before her muse, and will immediately run hither to covert?
+
+_Jud._ Yes; but because your chamber will be least suspicious, she
+appoints to meet you there; that, if her husband should come back, he
+may think her still abroad, and you may have time--
+
+_Wood._ To take in the horn-work. It happens as I wish; for Mrs
+Tricksy, and her keeper, are gone out with father Aldo, to complete
+her settlement; my landlady is safe at her morning exercise with my
+man Gervase, and her daughter not stirring: the house is our own, and
+iniquity may walk bare-faced.
+
+_Jud._ And, to make all sure, I am ordered to be from home. When I
+come back again, I shall knock at your door, with,
+  _Speak, brother, speak;_                                 [_Singing._
+  _Is the deed done?_
+
+_Wood._ _Long ago, long ago;_--and then we come panting out together.
+Oh, I am ravished with the imagination on't!
+
+_Jud._ Well, I must retire; good-morrow to you, sir.          [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Now do I humbly conceive, that this mistress in matrimony will
+give me more pleasure than the former; for your coupled spaniels, when
+they are once let loose, are afterwards the highest rangers.
+
+  _Enter Mrs_ BRAINSICK, _running._
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Oh dear Mr Woodall, what shall I do?
+
+_Wood._ Recover breath, and I'll instruct you in the next chamber.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ But my husband follows me at heels.
+
+_Wood._ Has he seen you?
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I hope not: I thought I had left him sure enough at the
+Exchange; but, looking behind me, as I entered into the house, I saw
+him walking a round rate this way.
+
+_Wood._ Since he has not seen you, there is no danger; you need but
+step into my chamber, and there we will lock ourselves up, and
+transform him in a twinkling.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I had rather have got into my own; but Judith is gone out
+with the key, I doubt.
+
+_Wood._ Yes, by your appointment. But so much the better; for when the
+cuckold finds no company, he will certainly go a sauntering again.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Make haste, then.
+
+_Wood._ Immediately.--[_Goes to open the Door hastily, and breaks his
+Key._] What is the matter here? the key turns round, and will not
+open! As I live, we are undone! with too much haste it is broken!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Then I am lost; for I cannot enter into my own.
+
+_Wood._ This next room is Limberham's. See! the door's open; and he
+and his mistress are both abroad.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ There is no remedy, I must venture in; for his knowing I
+am come back so soon, must be cause of jealousy enough, if the fool
+should find me.
+
+_Wood._ [_Looking in._] See there! Mrs Tricksy has left her Indian
+gown upon the bed; clap it on, and turn your back: he will easily
+mistake you for her, if he should look in upon you.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I will put on my vizor-mask, however, for more security.
+[_Noise._] Hark! I hear him.                               [_Goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Brain._ What, in a musty musing, monsieur Woodall! Let me enter into
+the affair.
+
+_Wood._ You may guess it, by the post I have taken up.
+
+_Brain._ O, at the door of the damsel Tricksy! your business is known
+by your abode; as the posture of a porter before a gate, denotes to
+what family he belongs. [_Looks in._] It is an assignation, I see; for
+yonder she stands, with her back toward me, drest up for the duel,
+with all the ornaments of the east. Now for the judges of the field,
+to divide the sun and wind betwixt the combatants, and a tearing
+trumpeter to sound the charge.
+
+_Wood._ It is a private quarrel, to be decided without seconds; and
+therefore you would do me a favour to withdraw.
+
+_Brain._ Your Limberham is nearer than you imagine: I left him almost
+entering at the door.
+
+_Wood._ Plague of all impertinent cuckolds! they are ever troublesome
+to us honest lovers: so intruding!
+
+_Brain._ They are indeed, where their company is not desired.
+
+_Wood._ Sure he has some tutelar devil to guard his brows! just when
+she had bobbed him, and made an errand home, to come to me!
+
+_Brain._ It is unconscionably done of him. But you shall not adjourn
+your love for this: the Brainsick has an ascendant over him; I am your
+guarantee; he is doomed a cuckold, in disdain of destiny.
+
+_Wood._ What mean you?
+
+_Brain._ To stand before the door with my brandished blade, and defend
+the entrance: He dies upon the point, if he approaches.
+
+_Wood._ If I durst trust it, it is heroic.
+
+_Brain._ It is the office of a friend: I will do it.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Should he know hereafter his wife were here, he
+would think I had enjoyed her, though I had not; it is best venturing
+for something. He takes pains enough, on conscience, for his
+cuckoldom; and, by my troth, has earned it fairly.--But, may a man
+venture upon your promise?
+
+_Brain._ Bars of brass, and doors of adamant, could not more secure
+you.
+
+_Wood._ I know it; but still gentle means are best: You may come to
+force at last. Perhaps you may wheedle him away: it is but drawing a
+trope or two upon him.
+
+_Brain._ He shall have it, with all the artillery of eloquence.
+
+_Wood._ Ay, ay; your figure breaks no bones. With your good leave.--
+                                                           [_Goes in._
+
+_Brain._ Thou hast it, boy. Turn to him, madam; to her Woodall: and St
+George for merry England. _Tan ta ra ra ra, ra ra! Dub, a dub, dub;
+Tan ta ra ra ra._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM.
+
+_Limb._ How now, bully Brainsick! What, upon the _Tan ta ra_, by
+yourself?
+
+_Brain._ Clangor, _taratantara,_ murmur.
+
+_Limb._ Commend me to honest _lingua Franca_. Why, this is enough to
+stun a Christian, with your Hebrew, and your Greek, and such like
+Latin.
+
+_Brain._ Out, ignorance!
+
+_Limb._ Then ignorance, by your leave; for I must enter.
+                                                  [_Attempts to pass._
+
+_Brain._ Why in such haste? the fortune of Greece depends not on it.
+
+_Limb._ But Pug's fortune does: that is dearer to me than Greece, and
+sweeter than ambergrease.
+
+_Brain._ You will not find her here. Come, you are jealous; you are
+haunted with a raging fiend, that robs you of your sweet repose.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, an you are in your perbole's again! Look you, it is Pug
+is jealous of her jewels: she has left the key of her cabinet behind,
+and has desired me to bring it back to her.
+
+_Brain._ Poor fool! he little thinks she is here before him!--Well,
+this pretence will never pass on me; for I dive deeper into your
+affairs; you are jealous. But, rather than my soul should be concerned
+for a sex so insignificant--Ha! the gods! If I thought my proper wife
+were now within, and prostituting all her treasures to the lawless
+love of an adulterer, I would stand as intrepid, as firm, and as
+unmoved, as the statue of a Roman gladiator.
+
+_Limb._ [_In the same tone._] Of a Roman gladiator!--Now are you as
+mad as a March hare; but I am in haste, to return to Pug: yet, by your
+favour, I will first secure the cabinet.
+
+_Brain._ No, you must not.
+
+_Limb._ Must not? What, may not a man come by you, to look upon his
+own goods and chattels, in his own chamber?
+
+_Brain._ No; with this sabre I defy the destinies, and dam up the
+passage with my person; like a rugged rock, opposed against the
+roaring of the boisterous billows. Your jealousy shall have no course
+through me, though potentates and princes--
+
+_Limb._ Pr'ythee, what have we to do with potentates and princes? Will
+you leave your troping, and let me pass?
+
+_Brain._ You have your utmost answer.
+
+_Limb._ If this maggot bite a little deeper, we shall have you a
+citizen of Bethlem yet, ere dog-days. Well, I say little; but I will
+tell Pug on it.                                               [_Exit._
+
+_Brain._ She knows it already, by your favour--           [_Knocking._
+Sound a retreat, you lusty lovers, or the enemy will charge you in the
+flank, with a fresh reserve: March off, march off upon the spur, ere
+he can reach you.
+
+  _Enter_ WOODALL.
+
+_Wood._ How now, baron Tell-clock[12], is the passage clear?
+
+_Brain._ Clear as a level, without hills or woods, and void of
+ambuscade.
+
+_Wood._ But Limberham will return immediately, when he finds not his
+mistress where he thought he left her.
+
+_Brain._ Friendship, which has done much, will yet do more. [_Shows a
+key._] With this _passe par tout_, I will instantly conduct her to my
+own chamber, that she may out-face the keeper, she has been there;
+and, when my wife returns, who is my slave, I will lay my conjugal
+commands upon her, to affirm, they have been all this time together.
+
+_Wood._ I shall never make you amends for this kindness, my dear
+Padron. But would it not be better, if you would take the pains to run
+after Limberham, and stop him in his way ere he reach the place where
+he thinks he left his mistress; then hold him in discourse as long as
+possibly you can, till you guess your wife may be returned, that so
+they may appear together?
+
+_Brain._ I warrant you: _laissez faire a Marc Antoine._       [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Now, madam, you may venture out in safety.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_Entering._] Pray heaven I may.                [_Noise._
+
+_Wood._ Hark! I hear Judith's voice: it happens well that she's
+returned: slip into your chamber immediately, and send back the gown.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ I will:--but are not you a wicked man, to put me into all
+this danger?                                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Wood._ Let what can happen, my comfort is, at least, I have enjoyed.
+But this is no place for consideration. Be jogging, good Mr Woodall,
+out of this family, while you are well; and go plant in some other
+country, where your virtues are not so famous.               [_Going._
+
+  _Enter_ TRICKSY, _with a box of writings._
+
+_Trick._ What, wandering up and down, as if you wanted an owner? Do
+you know that I am lady of the manor; and that all wefts and strays
+belong to me?
+
+_Wood._ I have waited for you above an hour; but friar Bacon's head
+has been lately speaking to me,--that time is past. In a word, your
+keeper has been here, and will return immediately; we must defer our
+happiness till some more favourable time.
+
+_Trick._ I fear him not; he has this morning armed me against himself,
+by this settlement; the next time he rebels, he gives me a fair
+occasion of leaving him for ever.
+
+_Wood._ But is this conscience in you? not to let him have his
+bargain, when he has paid so dear for it?
+
+_Trick._ You do not know him: he must perpetually be used ill, or he
+insults. Besides, I have gained an absolute dominion over him: he must
+not see, when I bid him wink. If you argue after this, either you love
+me not, or dare not.
+
+_Wood._ Go in, madam: I was never dared before. I'll but scout a
+little, and follow you immediately. [TRICK. _goes in._] I find a
+mistress is only kept for other men: and the keeper is but her man in
+a green livery, bound to serve a warrant for the doe, whenever she
+pleases, or is in season.
+
+  _Enter_ JUDITH, _with the Night-gown._
+
+_Jud._ Still you're a lucky man! Mr Brainsick has been exceeding
+honourable: he ran, as if a legion of bailiffs had been at his heels,
+and overtook Limberham in the street. Here, take the gown; lay it
+where you found it, and the danger's over.
+
+_Wood._ Speak softly; Mrs Tricksy is returned. [_Looks in._] Oh, she's
+gone into her closet, to lay up her writings: I can throw it on the
+bed, ere she perceive it has been wanting.            [_Throws it in._
+
+_Jud._ Every woman would not have done this for you, which I have
+done.
+
+_Wood._ I am sensible of it, little Judith; there's a time to come
+shall pay for all. I hear her returning: not a word; away.
+                                                       [_Exit_ JUDITH.
+
+  _Re-enter_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Trick._ What, is a second summons needful? my favours have not been
+so cheap, that they should stick upon my hands. It seems, you slight
+your bill of fare, because you know it; or fear to be invited to your
+loss.
+
+_Wood._ I was willing to secure my happiness from interruption. A true
+soldier never falls upon the plunder, while the enemy is in the field.
+
+_Trick._ He has been so often baffled, that he grows contemptible.
+Were he here, should he see you enter into my closet; yet--
+
+_Wood._ You are like to be put upon the trial, for I hear his voice.
+
+_Trick._ 'Tis so: go in, and mark the event now: be but as
+unconcerned, as you are safe, and trust him to my management.
+
+_Wood._ I must venture it; because to be seen here would have the same
+effect, as to be taken within. Yet I doubt you are too confident.
+                                                        [_He goes in._
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ BRAINSICK.
+
+_Limb._ How now, Pug? returned so soon!
+
+_Trick._ When I saw you came not for me, I was loth to be long without
+you.
+
+_Limb._ But which way came you, that I saw you not?
+
+_Trick._ The back way; by the garden door.
+
+_Limb._ How long have you been here?
+
+_Trick._ Just come before you.
+
+_Limb._ O, then all's well. For, to tell you true, Pug, I had a kind
+of villainous apprehension that you had been here longer: but whatever
+thou sayest is an oracle, sweet Pug, and I am satisfied.
+
+_Brain._ [_Aside._] How infinitely she gulls him! and he so stupid not
+to find it! [_To her._] If he be still within, madam, (you know my
+meaning?) here's Bilbo ready to forbid your keeper entrance.
+
+_Trick._ [_Aside._] Woodall must have told him of our
+appointment.--What think you of walking down, Mr Limberham?
+
+_Limb._ I'll but visit the chamber a little first.
+
+_Trick._ What new maggot's this? you dare not, sure, be jealous!
+
+_Limb._ No, I protest, sweet Pug, I am not: only to satisfy my
+curiosity; that's but reasonable, you know.
+
+_Trick._ Come, what foolish curiosity?
+
+_Limb._ You must know, Pug, I was going but just now, in obedience to
+your commands, to enquire of the health and safety of your jewels, and
+my brother Brainsick most barbarously forbade me entrance:--nay, I
+dare accuse you, when Pug's by to back me;--but now I am resolved I
+will go see them, or somebody shall smoke for it.
+
+_Brain._ But I resolve you shall not. If she pleases to command my
+person, I can comply with the obligation of a cavalier.
+
+_Trick._ But what reason had you to forbid him, then, sir?
+
+_Limb._ Ay, what reason had you to forbid me, then, sir?
+
+_Brain._ 'Twas only my caprichio, madam.--Now must I seem ignorant of
+what she knows full well.                                    [_Aside._
+
+_Trick._ We'll enquire the cause at better leisure; come down, Mr
+Limberham.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, if it were only his caprichio, I am satisfied; though I
+must tell you, I was in a kind of huff, to hear him _Tan ta ra, tan ta
+ra,_ a quarter of an hour together; for _Tan ta ra_ is but an odd kind
+of sound, you know, before a man's chamber.
+
+  _Enter_ PLEASANCE.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] Judith has assured me, he must be there; and, I am
+resolved, I'll satisfy my revenge at any rate upon my rivals.
+
+_Trick._ Mrs Pleasance is come to call us: pray let us go.
+
+_Pleas._ Oh dear, Mr Limberham, I have had the dreadfullest dream
+to-night, and am come to tell it you: I dreamed you left your
+mistress's jewels in your chamber, and the door open.
+
+_Limb._ In good time be it spoken; and so I did, Mrs Pleasance.
+
+_Pleas._ And that a great swinging thief came in, and whipt them out.
+
+_Limb._ Marry, heaven forbid!
+
+_Trick._ This is ridiculous: I'll speak to your mother, madam, not to
+suffer you to eat such heavy suppers.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, that's very true; for, you may remember she fed very much
+upon larks and pigeons; and they are very heavy meat, as Pug says.
+
+_Trick._ The jewels are all safe; I looked on them.
+
+_Brain._ Will you never stand corrected, Mrs Pleasance?
+
+_Pleas._ Not by you; correct your matrimony.--And methought, of a
+sudden this thief was turned to Mr Woodall; and that, hearing Mr
+Limberham come, he slipt for fear into the closet.
+
+_Trick._ I looked all over it; I'm sure he is not there.--Come away,
+dear.
+
+_Brain._ What, I think you are in a dream too, brother Limberham.
+
+_Limb._ If her dream should come out now! 'tis good to be sure,
+however.
+
+_Trick._ You are sure; have not I said it?--You had best make Mr
+Woodall a thief, madam.
+
+_Pleas._ I make him nothing, madam: but the thief in my dream was like
+Mr Woodall; and that thief may have made Mr Limberham something.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, Mr Woodall is no thief, that's certain; but if a thief
+should be turned to Mr Woodall, that may be something.
+
+_Trick._ Then I'll fetch out the jewels: will that satisfy you?
+
+_Brain._ That shall satisfy him.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, that shall satisfy me.
+
+_Pleas._ Then you are a predestinated fool, and somewhat worse, that
+shall be nameless. Do you not see how grossly she abuses you? my life
+on't, there's somebody within, and she knows it; otherwise she would
+suffer you to bring out the jewels.
+
+_Limb._ Nay, I am no predestinated fool; and therefore, Pug, give way.
+
+_Trick._ I will not satisfy your humour.
+
+_Limb._ Then I will satisfy it myself: for my generous blood is up,
+and I'll force my entrance.
+
+_Brain._ Here's Bilbo, then, shall bar you; atoms are not so small, as
+I will slice the slave. Ha! fate and furies!
+
+_Limb._ Ay, for all your fate and furies, I charge you, in his
+majesty's name, to keep the peace: now, disobey authority, if you
+dare.
+
+_Trick._ Fear him not, sweet Mr Brainsick.
+
+_Pleas._ to _Brain._ But, if you should hinder him, he may trouble you
+at law, sir, and say you robbed him of his jewels.
+
+_Limb._ That is well thought on. I will accuse him heinously;
+there--and therefore fear and tremble.
+
+_Brain._ My allegiance charms me: I acquiesce. The occasion is
+plausible to let him pass.--Now let the burnished beams upon his brow
+blaze broad, for the brand he cast upon the Brainsick.       [_Aside._
+
+_Trick._ Dear Mr Limberham, come back, and hear me.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, I will hear thee, Pug.
+
+_Pleas._ Go on; my life for yours, he is there.
+
+_Limb._ I am deaf as an adder; I will not hear thee, nor have no
+commiseration.                   [_Struggles from her, and rushes in._
+
+_Trick._ Then I know the worst, and care not.
+                                    [LIMBERHAM _comes running out with
+                                     the Jewels, followed by_ WOODALL,
+                                     _with his Sword drawn._
+
+_Limb._ O save me, Pug, save me!                   [_Gets behind her._
+
+_Wood._ A slave, to come and interrupt me at my devotions! but I
+will--
+
+_Limb._ Hold, hold, since you are so devout; for heaven's sake, hold!
+
+_Brain._ Nay, monsieur Woodall!
+
+_Trick._ For my sake, spare him.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, for Pug's sake, spare me.
+
+_Wood._ I did his chamber the honour, when my own was not open, to
+retire thither; and he to disturb me, like a profane rascal as he was.
+
+_Limb._ [_Aside._] I believe he had the devil for his chaplain, an' a
+man durst tell him so.
+
+_Wood._ What is that you mutter?
+
+_Limb._ Nay, nothing; but that I thought you had not been so well
+given. I was only afraid of Pug's jewels.
+
+_Wood._ What, does he take me for a thief? nay then--
+
+_Limb._ O mercy, mercy!
+
+_Pleas._ Hold, sir; it was a foolish dream of mine that set him on. I
+dreamt, a thief, who had been just reprieved for a former robbery, was
+venturing his neck a minute after in Mr Limberham's closet.
+
+_Wood._ Are you thereabouts, i'faith! A pox of Artemidorus[13].
+
+_Trick._ I have had a dream, too, concerning Mrs Brainsick, and
+perhaps--
+
+_Wood._ Mrs Tricksy, a word in private with you, by your keeper's
+leave.
+
+_Limb._ Yes, sir, you may speak your pleasure to her; and, if you have
+a mind to go to prayers together, the closet is open.
+
+_Wood._ [_To_ TRICK.] You but suspect it at most, and cannot prove it:
+if you value me, you will not engage me in a quarrel with her husband.
+
+_Trick._ Well, in hope you will love me, I will obey.
+
+_Brain._ Now, damsel Tricksy, your dream, your dream!
+
+_Trick._ It was something of a flagelet, that a shepherd played upon
+so sweetly, that three women followed him for his music, and still one
+of them snatched it from the other.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I understand her; but I find she is bribed to
+secrecy.
+
+_Limb._ That flagelet was, by interpretation,--but let that pass; and
+Mr Woodall, there, was the shepherd, that played the _tan ta ra_ upon
+it: but a generous heart, like mine, will endure the infamy no longer;
+therefore, Pug, I banish thee for ever.
+
+_Trick._ Then farewell.
+
+_Limb._ Is that all you make of me?
+
+_Trick._ I hate to be tormented with your jealous humours, and am glad
+to be rid of them.
+
+_Limb._ Bear witness, good people, of her ingratitude! Nothing vexes
+me, but that she calls me jealous; when I found him as close as a
+butterfly in her closet.
+
+_Trick._ No matter for that; I knew not he was there.
+
+_Limb._ Would I could believe thee!
+
+_Wood._ You have both our words for it.
+
+_Trick._ Why should you persuade him against his will?
+
+_Limb._ Since you won't persuade me, I care not much; here are the
+jewels in my possession, and I'll fetch out the settlement
+immediately.
+
+_Wood._ [_Shewing the Box._] Look you, sir, I'll spare your pains;
+four hundred a-year will serve to comfort a poor cast mistress.
+
+_Limb._ I thought what would come of your devil's _pater nosters_!
+
+_Brain._ Restore it to him for pity, Woodall.
+
+_Trick._ I make him my trustee; he shall not restore it.
+
+_Limb._ Here are jewels, that cost me above two thousand pounds; a
+queen might wear them. Behold this orient necklace, Pug! 'tis pity any
+neck should touch it, after thine, that pretty neck! but oh, 'tis the
+falsest neck that e'er was hanged in pearl.
+
+_Wood._ 'Twould become your bounty to give it her at parting.
+
+_Limb._ Never the sooner for your asking. But oh, that word parting!
+can I bear it? if she could find in her heart but so much grace, as to
+acknowledge what a traitress she has been, I think, in my conscience I
+could forgive her.
+
+_Trick._ I'll not wrong my innocence so much, nor this gentleman's;
+but, since you have accused us falsely, four hundred a-year betwixt us
+two will make us some part of reparation.
+
+_Wood._ I answer you not, but with my leg, madam.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] This mads me; but I cannot help it.
+
+_Limb._ What, wilt thou kill me, Pug, with thy unkindness, when thou
+knowest I cannot live without thee? It goes to my heart, that this
+wicked fellow--
+
+_Wood._ How's that, sir?
+
+_Limb._ Under the rose, good Mr Woodall; but, I speak it with all
+submission, in the bitterness of my spirit, that you, or any man,
+should have the disposing of my four hundred a-year _gratis_;
+therefore dear Pug, a word in private, with your permission, good Mr
+Woodall.
+
+_Trick._ Alas, I know, by experience, I may safely trust my person
+with you.                                 [_Exeunt_ LIMB. _and_ TRICK.
+
+  _Enter_ ALDO.
+
+_Pleas._ O, father Aldo, we have wanted you! Here has been made the
+rarest discovery!
+
+_Brain._ With the most comical catastrophe!
+
+_Wood._ Happily arrived, i'faith, my old sub-fornicator; I have been
+taken up on suspicion here with Mrs Tricksy.
+
+_Aldo._ To be taken, to be seen! Before George, that's a point next
+the worst, son Woodall.
+
+_Wood._ Truth is, I wanted thy assistance, old Methusalem; but, my
+comfort is, I fell greatly.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, young Phaeton, that's somewhat yet, if you made a blaze
+at your departure.
+
+  _Enter_ GILES, _Mrs_ BRAINSICK, _and_ JUDITH.
+
+_Giles._ By your leave, gentlemen, I have followed an old master of
+mine these two long hours, and had a fair course at him up the street;
+here he entered, I'm sure.
+
+_Aldo._ Whoop holyday! our trusty and well-beloved Giles, most
+welcome! Now for some news of my ungracious son.
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Giles here! O rogue, rogue! Now, would I were safe
+stowed over head and ears in the chest again.
+
+_Aldo._ Look you now, son Woodall, I told you I was not mistaken; my
+rascal's in town, with a vengeance to him.
+
+_Giles._ Why, this is he, sir; I thought you had known him.
+
+_Aldo._ Known whom?
+
+_Giles._ Your son here, my young master.
+
+_Aldo._ Do I dote? or art thou drunk, Giles?
+
+_Giles._ Nay, I am sober enough, I'm sure; I have been kept fasting
+almost these two days.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, 'tis so! I read it in that leering look: What a
+Tartar have I caught!
+
+_Brain._ Woodall his son!
+
+_Pleas._ What, young father Aldo!
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] Now cannot I for shame hold up my head, to think
+what this young rogue is privy to!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ The most dumb interview I ever saw!
+
+_Brain._ What, have you beheld the Gorgon's head on either side?
+
+_Aldo._ Oh, my sins! my sins! and he keeps my book of conscience too!
+He can display them, with a witness! Oh, treacherous young devil!
+
+_Wood._ [_Aside._] Well, the squib's run to the end of the line, and
+now for the cracker: I must bear up.
+
+_Aldo._ I must set a face of authority on the matter, for my
+credit.--Pray, who am I? do you know me, sir?
+
+_Wood._ Yes, I think I should partly know you, sir: You may remember
+some private passages betwixt us.
+
+_Aldo._ [_Aside._] I thought as much; he has me already!--But pray,
+sir, why this ceremony amongst friends? Put on, put on; and let us
+hear what news from France. Have you heard lately from my son? does he
+continue still the most hopeful and esteemed young gentleman in Paris?
+does he manage his allowance with the same discretion? and, lastly,
+has he still the same respect and duty for his good old father?
+
+_Wood._ Faith, sir, I have been too long from my catechism, to answer
+so many questions; but, suppose there be no news of your _quondam_
+son, you may comfort up your heart for such a loss; father Aldo has a
+numerous progeny about the town, heaven bless them.
+
+_Aldo._ It is very well, sir; I find you have been searching for your
+relations, then, in Whetstone's Park[14]!
+
+_Wood._ No, sir; I made some scruple of going to the foresaid place,
+for fear of meeting my own father there.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, I could find in my heart to disinherit thee.
+
+_Pleas._ Sure you cannot be so unnatural.
+
+_Wood._ I am sure I am no bastard; witness one good quality I have. If
+any of your children have a stronger tang of the father in them, I am
+content to be disowned.
+
+_Aldo._ Well, from this time forward, I pronounce thee--no son of
+mine.
+
+_Wood._ Then you desire I should proceed to justify I am lawfully
+begotten? The evidence is ready, sir; and, if you please, I shall
+relate, before this honourable assembly, those excellent lessons of
+morality you gave me at our first acquaintance. As, in the first
+place--
+
+_Aldo._ Hold, hold; I charge thee hold, on thy obedience. I forgive
+thee heartily: I have proof enough thou art my son; but tame thee that
+can, thou art a mad one.
+
+_Pleas._ Why this is as it should be.
+
+_Aldo._ [_To him._] Not a word of any passages betwixt us; it is
+enough we know each other; hereafter we will banish all pomp and
+ceremony, and live familiarly together. I'll be Pylades, and thou mad
+Orestes, and we will divide the estate betwixt us, and have fresh
+wenches, and _ballum rankum_ every night.
+
+_Wood._ A match, i'faith: and let the world pass.
+
+_Aldo._ But hold a little; I had forgot one point: I hope you are not
+married, nor engaged?
+
+_Wood._ To nothing but my pleasures, I.
+
+_Aldo._ A mingle of profit would do well though. Come, here is a girl;
+look well upon her; it is a mettled toad, I can tell you that: She
+will make notable work betwixt two sheets, in a lawful way.
+
+_Wood._ What, my old enemy, Mrs Pleasance!
+
+_Mrs Brain._ Marry Mrs Saintly's daughter!
+
+_Aldo._ The truth is, she has past for her daughter, by my
+appointment; but she has as good blood running in her veins, as the
+best of you. Her father, Mr Palms, on his death-bed, left her to my
+care and disposal, besides a fortune of twelve hundred a year; a
+pretty convenience, by my faith.
+
+_Wood._ Beyond my hopes, if she consent.
+
+_Aldo._ I have taken some care of her education, and placed her here
+with Mrs Saintly, as her daughter, to avoid her being blown upon by
+fops, and younger brothers. So now, son, I hope I have matched your
+concealment with my discovery; there is hit for hit, ere I cross the
+cudgels.
+
+_Pleas._ You will not take them up, sir?
+
+_Wood._ I dare not against you, madam: I am sure you will worst me at
+all weapons. All I can say is, I do not now begin to love you.
+
+_Aldo._ Let me speak for thee: Thou shalt be used, little Pleasance,
+like a sovereign princess: Thou shalt not touch a bit of butchers'
+meat in a twelve-month; and thou shall be treated--
+
+_Pleas._ Not with _ballum rankum_ every night, I hope!
+
+_Aldo._ Well, thou art a wag; no more of that. Thou shall want neither
+man's meat, nor woman's meat, as far as his provision will hold out.
+
+_Pleas._ But I fear he is so horribly given to go a house-warming
+abroad, that the least part of the provision will come to my share at
+home.
+
+_Wood._ You will find me so much employment in my own family, that I
+shall have little need to look out for journey-work.
+
+_Aldo._ Before George, he shall do thee reason, ere thou sleepest.
+
+_Pleas._ No; he shall have an honourable truce for one day at least;
+for it is not fair to put a fresh enemy upon him.
+
+_Mrs Brain._ [_To_ PLEAS.] I beseech you, madam, discover nothing
+betwixt him and me.
+
+_Pleas._ [_To her._] I am contented to cancel the old score; but take
+heed of bringing me an after-reckoning.
+
+  _Enter_ GERVASE, _leading_ SAINTLY.
+
+_Gerv._ Save you, gentlemen; and you, my _quondam_ master: You are
+welcome all, as I may say.
+
+_Aldo._ How now, sirrah? what is the matter?
+
+_Gerv._ Give good words, while you live, sir; your landlord, and Mr
+Saintly, if you please.
+
+_Wood._ Oh, I understand the business; he is married to the widow.
+
+_Saint._ Verily the good work is accomplished.
+
+_Brain._ But, why Mr Saintly?
+
+_Gerv._ When a man is married to his betters, it is but decency to
+take her name. A pretty house, a pretty situation, and prettily
+furnished! I have been unlawfully labouring at hard duty; but a parson
+has soldered up the matter: Thank your worship, Mr Woodall--How? Giles
+here!
+
+_Wood._ This business is out, and I am now Aldo. My father has
+forgiven me, and we are friends.
+
+_Gerv._ When will Giles, with his honesty, come to this?
+
+_Wood._ Nay, do not insult too much, good Mr Saintly: Thou wert but my
+deputy; thou knowest the widow intended it to me.
+
+_Gerv._ But I am satisfied she performed it with me, sir. Well, there
+is much good will in these precise old women; they are the most
+zealous bed-fellows! Look, an' she does not blush now! you see there
+is grace in her.
+
+_Wood._ Mr Limberham, where are you? Come, cheer up, man! How go
+matters on your side of the country? Cry him, Gervase.
+
+_Gerv._ Mr Limberham, Mr Limberham, make your appearance in the court,
+and save your recognizance.
+
+  _Enter_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.
+
+_Wood._ Sir, I should now make a speech to you in my own defence; but
+the short of all is this: If you can forgive what is past, your hand,
+and I'll endeavour to make up the breach betwixt you and your
+mistress: If not, I am ready to give you the satisfaction of a
+gentleman.
+
+_Limb._ Sir, I am a peaceable man, and a good Christian, though I say
+it, and desire no satisfaction from any man. Pug and I are partly
+agreed upon the point already; and therefore lay thy hand upon thy
+heart, Pug, and, if thou canst, from the bottom of thy soul, defy
+mankind, naming no body, I'll forgive thy past enormities; and, to
+give good example to all Christian keepers, will take thee to be my
+wedded wife; and thy four hundred a-year shall be settled upon thee,
+for separate maintenance.
+
+_Trick._ Why, now I can consent with honour.
+
+_Aldo._ This is the first business that was ever made up without me.
+
+_Wood._ Give you joy, Mr Bridegroom.
+
+_Limb._ You may spare your breath, sir, if you please; I desire none
+from you. It is true, I am satisfied of her virtue, in spite of
+slander; but, to silence calumny, I shall civilly desire you
+henceforth, not to make a chapel-of-ease of Pug's closet.
+
+_Pleas._ [_Aside._] I'll take care of false worship, I'll warrant him.
+He shall have no more to do with Bel and the Dragon.
+
+_Brain._ Come hither, wedlock, and let me seal my lasting love upon
+thy lips. Saintly has been seduced, and so has Tricksy; but thou alone
+art kind and constant. Hitherto I have not valued modesty, according
+to its merit; but hereafter, Memphis shall not boast a monument more
+firm than my affection.
+
+_Wood._ A most excellent reformation, and at a most seasonable time!
+The moral of it is pleasant, if well considered. Now, let us to
+dinner.--Mrs Saintly, lead the way, as becomes you, in your own house.
+                                                [_The rest going off._
+
+_Pleas._ Your hand, sweet moiety.
+
+_Wood._ And heart too, my comfortable importance.
+  Mistress and wife, by turns, I have possessed:
+  He, who enjoys them both in one, is blessed.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The Mahommedan doctrine of predestination is well known. They
+   reconcile themselves to all dispensations, by saying, "They are
+   written on the forehead" of him, to whose lot they have fallen.
+
+2. The custom of drinking _supernaculum_, consisted in turning down
+   the cup upon the thumb-nail of the drinker after his pledge, when,
+   if duly quaffed off, no drop of liquor ought to appear upon his
+   nail.
+
+     With that she set it to her nose,
+     And off at once the rumkin goes;
+     No drops beside her muzzle falling,
+     Until that she had supped it all in:
+     Then turning't topsey on her thumb,
+     Says--look, here's _supernaculum._
+                                   _Cotton's Virgil travestie._
+
+   This custom seems to have been derived from the Germans, who held,
+   that if a drop appeared on the thumb, it presaged grief and
+   misfortune to the person whose health was drunk.
+
+3. This piece of dirty gallantry seems to have been fashionable:
+
+     Come, Phyllis, thy finger, to begin the go round;
+     How the glass in thy hand with charms does abound!
+     You and the wine to each other lend arms,
+           And I find that my love
+           Does for either improve,
+     For that does redouble, as you double your charms.
+
+4. Dapper, a silly character in Jonson's Alchemist, tricked by an
+   astrologer, who persuades him the queen of fairies is his aunt.
+
+5. The mask, introduced in the first act of the Maid's Tragedy, ends
+   with the following dialogue betwixt Cinthia and Night:
+
+     _Cinthia_ Whip up thy team,
+     The day breaks here, and yon sun-flaring beam
+     Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go?
+
+     _Night._ I'll vanish into mists.
+
+     _Cinthia._ I into day.
+
+6. In spring 1677, whilst the treaty of Nimeguen was under discussion,
+   the French took the three important frontier towns, Valenciennes,
+   St Omer, and Cambray. The Spaniards seemed, with the most passive
+   infatuation, to have left the defence of Flanders to the Prince of
+   Orange and the Dutch.
+
+7. Alluding to the imaginary history of Pine, a merchant's clerk, who,
+   being wrecked on a desert island in the South Seas, bestowed on it
+   his own name, and peopled it by the assistance of his master's
+   daughter and her two maid servants, who had escaped from the wreck
+   by his aid.
+
+8. Sulli, the famous composer.
+
+9. It would seem that about this time the French were adopting their
+   present mode of pronunciation, so capriciously distinct from the
+   orthography.
+
+10. "Queen Dido, or the wandering Prince of Troy," an old ballad,
+   printed in the "Reliques of Ancient Poetry," in which the ghost of
+   queen Dido thus addresses the perfidious AEneas:
+
+     Therefore prepare thy flitting soul,
+       To wander with me in the air;
+     When deadly grief shall make it howl,
+       Because of me thou took'st no care.
+     Delay not time, thy glass is run,
+       Thy date is past, thy life is done.
+
+11. _Pricking_, in hare-hunting, is tracking the foot of the game by
+   the eye, when the scent is lost.]
+
+12. The facetious Tom Brown, in his 2d dialogue on Mr Bayes' changing
+   his religion, introduces our poet saying,
+
+   "Likewise he (Cleveland) having the misfortune to call that
+   domestic animal a cock,
+
+     The Baron Tell-clock of the night,
+
+   I could never, igad, as I came home from the tavern, meet a
+   watchman or so, but I presently asked him, 'Baron Tell-clock of the
+   night, pr'ythee how goes the time?"
+
+13. Artemidorus, the sophist of Cnidos, was the soothsayer who
+    prophesied the death of Caesar. Shakespeare has introduced him in
+    his tragedy of "Julius Caesar."
+
+14. A common rendezvous of the rakes and bullies of the time; "For
+   when they expected the most polished hero in Nemours, I gave them a
+   ruffian reeking from Whetstone's Park." Dedication to Lee's
+   "Princess of Cleves." In his translation of Ovid's "Love Elegies,"
+   Lib. II, Eleg. XIX. Dryden mentions, "an easy Whetstone whore."
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+                         SPOKEN BY LIMBERHAM.
+
+
+  I beg a boon, that, ere you all disband,
+  Some one would take my bargain off my hand:
+  To keep a punk is but a common evil;
+  To find her false, and marry,--that's the devil.
+  Well, I ne'er acted part in all my life,
+  But still I was fobbed off with some such wife.
+  I find the trick; these poets take no pity
+  Of one that is a member of the city.
+  We cheat you lawfully, and in our trades;
+  You cheat us basely with your common jades.
+  Now I am married, I must sit down by it;
+  But let me keep my dear-bought spouse in quiet.
+  Let none of you damned Woodalls of the pit,
+  Put in for shares to mend our breed in wit;
+  We know your bastards from our flesh and blood,
+  Not one in ten of yours e'er comes to good.
+  In all the boys, their fathers' virtues shine,
+  But all the female fry turn Pugs--like mine.
+  When these grow up, Lord, with what rampant gadders
+  Our counters will be thronged, and roads with padders!
+  This town two bargains has, not worth one farthing,--
+  A Smithfield horse, and wife of Covent-Garden[1].
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Alluding to an old proverb, that whoso goes to Westminster for a
+   wife, to St Paul's for a man, and to Smithfield for a horse, may
+   meet with a whore, a knave, and a jade. Falstaff, on being informed
+   that Bardolph is gone to Smithfield to buy him a horse, observes,
+   "I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield; an
+   I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and
+   wived." _Second Part of Henry IV._ Act I. Scene II.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+          _Hi proprium decus et partum indignantur honorem,
+          Ni teneant--_
+                                   VIRG.
+
+
+                 _Vos exemplaria Graeca
+               Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna._
+                                   HORAT.
+
+
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+The dreadful subject of this piece has been celebrated by several
+ancient and modern dramatists. Of seven tragedies of Sophocles which
+have reached our times, two are founded on the history of OEdipus. The
+first of these, called "OEdipus Tyrannus," has been extolled by every
+critic since the days of Aristotle, for the unparalleled art with
+which the story is managed. The dreadful secret, the existence of
+which is announced by the pestilence, and by the wrath of the offended
+deities, seems each moment on the verge of being explained, yet, till
+the last act, the reader is still held in horrible suspense. Every
+circumstance, resorted to for the purpose of evincing the falsehood of
+the oracle, tends gradually to confirm the guilt of OEdipus, and to
+accelerate the catastrophe; while his own supposed consciousness of
+innocence, at once interests us in his favour, and precipitates the
+horrible discovery. Dryden, who arranged the whole plan of the
+following tragedy, although assisted by Lee in the execution, was
+fully aware of the merit of the "OEdipus Tyrannus;" and, with the
+addition of the under-plot of Adrastus and Eurydice, has traced out
+the events of the drama, in close imitation of Sophocles. The Grecian
+bard, however, in concurrence with the history or tradition of Greece,
+has made OEdipus survive the discovery of his unintentional guilt, and
+reserved him, in blindness and banishment, for the subject of his
+second tragedy of "OEdipus Coloneus." This may have been well judged,
+considering that the audience were intimately acquainted with the
+important scenes which were to follow among the descendants of
+OEdipus, with the first and second wars against Thebes, and her final
+conquest by the ancestors of those Athenians, before whom the play was
+rehearsed, led on by their demi-god Theseus. They were also prepared
+to receive, with reverence and faith, the belief on which the whole
+interest turns, that if OEdipus should be restored to Thebes, the
+vengeance of the gods against the devoted city might be averted; and
+to applaud his determination to remain on Athenian ground, that the
+predestined curse might descend on his unnatural sons and ungrateful
+country. But while the modern reader admires the lofty tone of poetry
+and high strain of morality which pervades "OEdipus Coloneus," it must
+appear more natural to his feelings, that the life of the hero,
+stained with unintentional incest and parricide, should be terminated,
+as in Dryden's play, upon the discovery of his complicated guilt and
+wretchedness. Yet there is something awful in the idea of the monarch,
+blind and exiled, innocent in intention, though so horribly criminal
+in fact, devoted, as it were, to the infernal deities, and sacred from
+human power and violence by the very excess of his guilt and misery.
+The account of the death of OEdipus Coloneus reaches the highest tone
+of sublimity. While the lightning flashes around him, he expresses the
+feeling, that his hour is come; and the reader anticipates, that, like
+Malefort in the "Unnatural Combat," he is to perish by a thunder-bolt.
+Yet, for the awful catastrophe, which we are artfully led to expect,
+is substituted a mysterious termination, still more awful. OEdipus
+arrays himself in splendid apparel, and dismisses his daughters and
+the attending Athenians. Theseus alone remains with him. The storm
+subsides, and the attendants return to the place, but OEdipus is there
+no longer--he had not perished by water, by sword, nor by fire--no one
+but Theseus knew the manner of his death. With an impressive hint,
+that it was as strange and wonderful as his life had been dismally
+eventful, the poet drops a curtain over the fate of his hero. This
+last sublime scene Dryden has not ventured to imitate; and the rants
+of Lee are a poor substitute for the calm and determined despair of
+the "OEdipus Coloneus."
+
+Seneca, perhaps to check the seeds of vice in Nero, his pupil, to whom
+incest and blood were afterwards so familiar[1], composed the Latin
+tragedy on the subject of OEdipus, which is alluded to by Dryden in
+the following preface. The cold declamatory rhetorical stile of that
+philosopher was adapted precisely to counteract the effect, which a
+tale of terror produces on the feelings and imagination. His taste
+exerted itself in filling up and garnishing the more trifling
+passages, which Sophocles had passed over as unworthy of notice, and
+in adjusting incidents laid in the heroic age of Grecian simplicity,
+according to the taste and customs of the court of Nero[2]. Yet though
+devoid of dramatic effect, of fancy, and of genius, the OEdipus of
+Seneca displays the masculine eloquence and high moral sentiment of
+its author; and if it does not interest us in the scene of fiction, it
+often compels us to turn our thoughts inward, and to study our own
+hearts.
+
+The OEdipe of Corneille is in all respects unworthy of its great
+author. The poet considering, as he states in his introduction, that
+the subject of OEdipus tearing out his eyes was too horrible to be
+presented before ladies, qualifies its terrors by the introduction of
+a love intrigue betwixt Theseus and Dirce. The unhappy propensity of
+the French poets to introduce long discussions upon _la belle
+passion_, addressed merely to the understanding, without respect to
+feeling or propriety, is nowhere more ridiculously displayed than in
+"OEdipe." The play opens with the following polite speech of Theseus
+to Dirce:
+
+  _N'ecoutez plus, madame, une pitie cruelle,
+  Qui d'un fidel amant vous ferait un rebelle:
+  La gloire d'obeir n'a rien que me soit doux,
+  Lorsque vous m'ordonnez de m'eloigner de vous.
+  Quelque ravage affreux qu'etale ici la peste,
+  L'absence aux vrais amans est encore plus funeste;
+  Et d'un si grand peril l'image s'offre en vain,
+  Quand ce peril douteux epargne un mal certain._
+                                   Act premiere, Scene premiere.
+
+It is hardly possible more prettily to jingle upon the _peril
+douteux_, and the _mal certain_; but this is rather an awkward way of
+introducing the account of the pestilence, with which all the other
+dramatists have opened their scene. OEdipus, however, is at once
+sensible of the cause which detained Theseus at his melancholy court,
+amidst the horrors of the plague:
+
+  _Je l'avais bien juge qu'_ un interet d'amour
+  _Fermait ici vos yeux aux perils de ma cour._
+
+_OEdipo conjectere opus est_--it would have been difficult for any
+other person to have divined such a motive. The conduct of the drama
+is exactly suitable to its commencement; the fate of OEdipus and of
+Thebes, the ravages of the pestilence, and the avenging of the death
+of Laius, are all secondary and subordinate considerations to the
+loves of Theseus and Dirce, as flat and uninteresting a pair as ever
+spoke _platitudes_ in French hexameters. So much is this the
+engrossing subject of the drama, that OEdipus, at the very moment when
+Tiresias is supposed to be engaged in raising the ghost of Laius,
+occupies himself in a long scene of scolding about love and duty with
+Dirce; and it is not till he is almost bullied by her off the stage,
+that he suddenly recollects, as an apology for his retreat,
+
+  _Mais il faut aller voir ce qu'a fait Tiresias._
+
+Considering, however, the declamatory nature of the French dialogue,
+and the peremptory rule of their drama, that love, or rather
+gallantry, must be the moving principle of every performance, it is
+more astonishing that Corneille should have chosen so masculine and
+agitating a subject, than that he should have failed in treating it
+with propriety or success.
+
+In the following tragedy, Dryden has avowedly adopted the Greek model;
+qualified, however, by the under plot of Adrastus and Eurydice, which
+contributes little either to the effect or merit of the play. Creon,
+in his ambition and his deformity, is a poor copy of Richard III.,
+without his abilities; his plots and treasons are baffled by the
+single appearance of OEdipus; and as for the loves and woes of
+Eurydice, and the prince of Argos, they are lost in the horrors of the
+principal story, like the moonlight amid the glare of a conflagration.
+In other respects, the conduct of the piece closely follows the
+"OEdipus Tyrannus," and, in some respects, even improves on that
+excellent model. The Tiresias of Sophocles, for example, upon his
+first introduction, denounces OEdipus as the slayer of Laius, braves
+his resentment, and prophesies his miserable catastrophe. In Dryden's
+play, the first anathema of the prophet is levelled only against the
+unknown murderer; and it is not till the powers of hell have been
+invoked, that even the eye of the prophet can penetrate the horrible
+veil, and fix the guilt decisively upon OEdipus. By this means, the
+striking quarrel betwixt the monarch and Tiresias is, with great art,
+postponed to the third act; and the interest, of course, is more
+gradually heightened than in the Grecian tragedy.
+
+The first and third acts, which were wholly written by Dryden,
+maintain a decided superiority over the rest of the piece. Yet there
+are many excellent passages scattered through Lee's scenes; and as the
+whole was probably corrected by Dryden, the tragedy has the appearance
+of general consistence and uniformity. There are several scenes, in
+which Dryden seems to have indulged his newly adopted desire of
+imitating the stile of Shakespeare. Such are, in particular, the scene
+of OEdipus walking in his sleep, which bears marks of Dryden's pen;
+and such, also, is the incantation in the third act. Seneca and
+Corneille have thrown this last scene into narrative. Yet, by the
+present large size of our stages, and the complete management of light
+and shade, the incantation might be represented with striking effect;
+an advantage which, I fear, has been gained by the sacrifice of
+others, much more essential to the drama, considered as a dignified
+and rational amusement. The incantation itself is nobly written, and
+the ghost of Laius can only be paralleled in Shakespeare.
+
+The language of OEdipus is, in general, nervous, pure, and elegant;
+and the dialogue, though in so high a tone of passion, is natural and
+affecting. Some of Lee's extravagancies are lamentable exceptions to
+this observation. This may be instanced in the passage, where Jocasta
+threatens to fire Olympus, destroy the heavenly furniture, and smoke
+the deities _like bees out of their ambrosial hives_; and such is the
+still more noted wish of OEdipus;
+
+  Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,
+  May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,
+  But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark!
+
+These blemishes, however, are entitled to some indulgence from the
+reader, when they occur in a work of real genius. Those, who do not
+strive at excellence, will seldom fall into absurdity; as he, who is
+contented to walk, is little liable to stumble.
+
+Notwithstanding the admirable disposition of the parts of this play,
+the gradual increase of the interest, and the strong impassioned
+language of the dialogue, the disagreeable nature of the plot forms an
+objection to its success upon a British stage. Distress, which turns
+upon the involutions of unnatural or incestuous passion, carries with
+it something too disgusting for the sympathy of a refined age;
+whereas, in a simple state of society, the feelings require a more
+powerful stimulus; as we see the vulgar crowd round an object of real
+horror, with the same pleasure we reap from seeing it represented on a
+theatre. Besides, in ancient times, in those of the Roman empire at
+least, such abominations really occurred, as sanctioned the story of
+OEdipus. But the change of manners has introduced not only greater
+purity of moral feeling, but a sensibility, which retreats with
+abhorrence even from a fiction turning upon such circumstances. Hence,
+Garrick, who well knew the taste of an English audience, renounced his
+intention of reviving the excellent old play of "King and no King;"
+and hence Massinger's still more awful tragedy of "The Unnatural
+Combat," has been justly deemed unfit for a modern stage. Independent
+of this disgusting circumstance, it may be questioned Whether the
+horror of this tragedy is not too powerful for furnishing mere
+amusement? It is said in the "Companion to the Playhouse," that when
+the piece was performing at Dublin, a musician, in the orchestra, was
+so powerfully affected by the madness of OEdipus, as to become himself
+actually delirious: and though this may be exaggerated, it is certain,
+that, when the play was revived about thirty years ago, the audience
+were unable to support it to an end; the boxes being all emptied
+before the third act was concluded. Among all our English plays, there
+is none more determinedly bloody than "OEdipus," in its progress and
+conclusion. The entrance of the unfortunate king, with his eyes torn
+from their sockets, is too disgusting for representation[3]. Of all
+the persons of the drama, scarce one survives the fifth act. OEdipus
+dashes out his brains, Jocasta stabs herself, their children are
+strangled, Creon kills Eurydice, Adrastus kills Creon, and the
+insurgents kill Adrastus; when we add to this, that the conspirators
+are hanged, the reader will perceive, that the play, which began with
+a pestilence, concludes with a massacre,
+
+  And darkness is the burier of the dead.
+
+Another objection to OEdipus has been derived from the doctrine of
+fatalism, inculcated by the story. There is something of cant in
+talking much upon the influence of a theatre on public morals; yet, I
+fear, though the most moral plays are incapable of doing much good,
+the turn of others may make a mischievous impression, by embodying in
+verse, and rendering apt for the memory, maxims of an impious or
+profligate tendency. In this point of view, there is, at least, no
+edification in beholding the horrible crimes unto which OEdipus is
+unwillingly plunged, and in witnessing the dreadful punishment he
+sustains, though innocent of all moral or intentional guilt, Corneille
+has endeavoured to counterbalance the obvious conclusion, by a long
+tirade upon free-will, which I have subjoined, as it contains some
+striking ideas.[4] But the doctrine, which it expresses, is
+contradictory of the whole tenor of the story; and the correct
+deduction is much more justly summed up by Seneca, in the stoical
+maxim of necessity:
+
+  _Fatis agimur, cedite Fatis;
+  Non solicitae possunt curae,
+  Mutare rati stamina fusi;
+  Quicquid patimur mortale genus,
+  Quicquid facimus venit ex alto;
+  Servatque sua decreta colus,
+  Lachesis dura revoluta manu._
+
+Some degree of poetical justice might have been preserved, and a
+valuable moral inculcated, had the conduct of OEdipus, in his combat
+with Laius, been represented as atrocious, or, at least,
+unwarrantable; as the sequel would then have been a warning, how
+impossible it is to calculate the consequences or extent of a single
+act of guilt. But, after all, Dryden perhaps extracts the true moral,
+while stating our insufficiency to estimate the distribution of good
+and evil in human life, in a passage, which, in excellent poetry,
+expresses more sound truth, than a whole shelf of philosophers:
+
+  The Gods are just--
+  But how can finite measure infinite?
+  Reason! alas, it does not know itself!
+  Yet man, vain man, would, with this, short-lined plummet,
+  Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.
+  Whatever is, is in its causes just,
+  Since all things are by fate. But purblind man
+  Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;
+  His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,
+  That poises all above.--
+
+The prologue states, that the play, if damned, may be recorded as the
+"first buried since the Woollen Act." This enables us to fix the date
+of the performance. By the 30th Charles II. cap. 3. all persons were
+appointed to be buried in woollen after 1st August, 1678. The play
+must therefore have been represented early in the season 1678-9. It
+was not printed until 1679.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Nero is said to have represented the character of OEdipus, amongst
+   others of the same horrible cast.--_Suetonius,_ Lib. VI. Cap. 21.
+
+2. Thus Seneca is justly ridiculed by Dacier, for sending Laius forth
+   with a numerous party of guards, to avoid the indecorum of a king
+   going abroad too slenderly attended. The guards lose their way
+   within a league of their master's capital; and, by this awkward
+   contrivance, their absence is accounted for, when he is met by
+   OEdipus.
+
+3. Voltaire, however, held a different opinion. He thought a powerful
+   effect might be produced by the exhibition of the blind king,
+   indistinctly seen in the back ground, amid the shrieks of Jocasta,
+   and the exclamations of the Thebans; provided the actor was capable
+   of powerful gesture, and of expressing much passion, with little
+   declamation.
+
+4.   _Quoi! la necessite des vertus et des vices
+     D'un astre imperieux doit suivre les caprices?
+     Et Delphes malgre nous conduit nos actions
+     Au plus bizarre effet de ses predictions?
+     L'ame est donc toute esclave; une loi soveraine
+     Vers le bien ou le mal incessamment l'entraine;
+     Et nous recevons ni crainte ni desir,
+     De cette liberte qui n'a rien a choisir;
+     Attaches sans relache a cet ordre sublime,
+     Vertueux sans merite, et vicieux sans crime;
+     Qu'on massare les rois, qu'on brise les autels,
+     C'est la faute des dieux, et non pas des mortels;
+     De toute la vertu sur la terre epandue
+     Tout le prix ces dieux, toute la gloire est due;
+     Ils agissent en nous, quand nous pensons agir,
+     Alons qu'on delibere, on ne fait qu'obeir;
+     Et notre volonte n'aime, hait, cherche, evite,
+     Que suivant que d'en haut leur bras la precipite!
+       D'un tel aveuglement daignez me dispenser
+     Le ciel juste a punir, juste a recompenser,
+     Pour rendre aux actions leur peine ou leur salaire,
+     Doit nous offrir son aide et puis nous laisser faire._
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+Though it be dangerous to raise too great an expectation, especially
+in works of this nature, where we are to please an insatiable
+audience, yet it is reasonable to prepossess them in favour of an
+author; and therefore, both the prologue and epilogue informed you,
+that OEdipus was the most celebrated piece of all antiquity; that
+Sophocles, not only the greatest wit, but one of the greatest men in
+Athens, made it for the stage at the public cost; and that it had the
+reputation of being his masterpiece, not only among the seven of his
+which are still remaining, but of the greater number which are
+perished. Aristotle has more than once admired it, in his Book of
+Poetry; Horace has mentioned it: Lucullus, Julius Caesar, and other
+noble Romans, have written on the same subject, though their poems are
+wholly lost; but Seneca's is still preserved. In our own age,
+Corneille has attempted it, and, it appears by his preface, with great
+success. But a judicious reader will easily observe, how much the copy
+is inferior to the original. He tells you himself, that he owes a
+great part of his success, to the happy episode of Theseus and Dirce;
+which is the same thing, as if we should acknowledge, that we were
+indebted for our good fortune to the under-plot of Adrastus, Eurydice,
+and Creon. The truth is, he miserably failed in the character of his
+hero: If he desired that OEdipus should be pitied, he should have made
+him a better man. He forgot, that Sophocles had taken care to show
+him, in his first entrance, a just, a merciful, a successful, a
+religious prince, and, in short, a father of his country. Instead of
+these, he has drawn him suspicious, designing, more anxious of keeping
+the Theban crown, than solicitous for the safety of his people;
+hectored by Theseus, condemned by Dirce, and scarce maintaining a
+second part in his own tragedy. This was an error in the first
+concoction; and therefore never to be mended in the second or the
+third. He introduced a greater hero than OEdipus himself; for when
+Theseus was once there, that companion of Hercules must yield to none.
+The poet was obliged to furnish him with business, to make him an
+equipage suitable to his dignity; and, by following him too close, to
+lose his other king of Brentford in the crowd. Seneca, on the other
+side, as if there were no such thing as nature to be minded in a play,
+is always running after pompous expression, pointed sentences, and
+philosophical notions, more proper for the study than the stage: the
+Frenchman followed a wrong scent; and the Roman was absolutely at cold
+hunting. All we could gather out of Corneille was, that an episode
+must be, but not his way: and Seneca supplied us with no new hint, but
+only a relation which he makes of his Tiresias raising the ghost of
+Laius; which is here performed in view of the audience,--the rites and
+ceremonies, so far his, as he agreed with antiquity, and the religion
+of the Greeks. But he himself was beholden to Homer's Tiresias, in the
+"Odysses," for some of them; and the rest have been collected from
+Heliodore's "Ethiopiques," and Lucan's Erictho[1]. Sophocles, indeed,
+is admirable everywhere; and therefore we have followed him as close
+as possibly we could. But the Athenian theatre, (whether more perfect
+than ours, is not now disputed,) had a perfection differing from ours.
+You see there in every act a single scene, (or two at most,) which
+manage the business of the play; and after that succeeds the chorus,
+which commonly takes up more time in singing, than there has been
+employed in speaking. The principal person appears almost constantly
+through the play; but the inferior parts seldom above once in the
+whole tragedy. The conduct of our stage is much more difficult, where
+we are obliged never to lose any considerable character, which we have
+once presented. Custom likewise has obtained, that we must form an
+under-plot of second persons, which must be depending on the first;
+and their by-walks must be like those in a labyrinth, which all of
+them lead into the great parterre; or like so many several lodging
+chambers, which have their outlets into the same gallery. Perhaps,
+after all, if we could think so, the ancient method, as it is the
+easiest, is also the most natural, and the best. For variety, as it is
+managed, is too often subject to breed distraction; and while we would
+please too many ways, for want of art in the conduct, we please in
+none[2]. But we have given you more already than was necessary for a
+preface; and, for aught we know, may gain no more by our instructions,
+than that politic nation is like to do, who have taught their enemies
+to fight so long, that at last they are in a condition to invade
+them[3].
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Heliodorus, bishop of Trica, wrote a romance in Greek, called the
+   "Ethiopiques," containing the amours of Theagenes and Chariclea. He
+   was so fond of this production, that, the option being proposed to
+   him by a synod, he rather chose to resign his bishopric than
+   destroy his work. There occurs a scene of incantation in this
+   romance. The story of Lucan's witch occurs in the sixth book of the
+   Pharsalia.
+
+   Dryden has judiciously imitated Seneca, in representing necromancy
+   as the last resort of Tiresias, after all milder modes of augury
+   had failed.
+
+2. It had been much to be wished, that our author had preferred his
+   own better judgment, and the simplicity of the Greek plot, to
+   compliance with this foolish custom.
+
+3. This seems to allude to the French, who, after having repeatedly
+   reduced the Dutch to extremity, were about this period defeated by
+   the Prince of Orange, in the battle of Mons. See the next note.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  When Athens all the Grecian slate did guide,
+  And Greece gave laws to all the world beside;
+  Then Sophocles with Socrates did sit,
+  Supreme in wisdom one, and one in wit:
+  And wit from wisdom differed not in those,
+  But as 'twas sung in verse, or said in prose.
+  Then, OEdipus, on crowded theatres,
+  Drew all admiring eyes and list'ning ears:
+  The pleased spectator shouted every line,
+  The noblest, manliest, and the best design!
+  And every critic of each learned age,
+  By this just model has reformed the stage.
+  Now, should it fail, (as heaven avert our fear!)
+  Damn it in silence, lest the world should hear.
+  For were it known this poem did not please,
+  You might set up for perfect savages:
+  Your neighbours would not look on you as men,
+  But think the nation all turned Picts again.
+  Faith, as you manage matters, 'tis not fit
+  You should suspect yourselves of too much wit:
+  Drive not the jest too far, but spare this piece;
+  And, for this once, be not more wise than Greece.
+  See twice! do not pell-mell to damning fall,
+  Like true-born Britons, who ne'er think at all:
+  Pray be advised; and though at Mons[1] you won,
+  On pointed cannon do not always run.
+  With some respect to ancient wit proceed;
+  You take the four first councils for your creed.
+  But, when you lay tradition wholly by,
+  And on the private spirit alone rely,
+  You turn fanatics in your poetry.
+  If, notwithstanding all that we can say,
+  You needs will have your penn'orths of the play,
+  And come resolved to damn, because you pay,
+  Record it, in memorial of the fact,
+  The first play buried since the woollen act.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. On the 17th of August, 1678, the Prince of Orange, afterwards
+   William III. marched to the attack of the French army, which
+   blockaded Mons, and lay secured by the most formidable
+   entrenchments. Notwithstanding a powerful and well-served
+   artillery, the duke of Luxemburgh was forced to abandon his
+   trenches, and retire with great loss. The English and Scottish
+   regiments, under the gallant earl of Ossory, had their full share
+   in the glory of the day. It is strongly suspected, that the Prince
+   of Orange, when he undertook this perilous atchievement, knew that
+   a peace had been signed betwixt France and the States, though the
+   intelligence was not made public till next day. Carleton says, that
+   the troops, when drawn up for the attack, supposed the purpose was
+   to fire a _feu-de-joie_ for the conclusion of the war. The
+   enterprize, therefore, though successful, was needless as well as
+   desperate, and merited Dryden's oblique censure.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  OEDIPUS, _King of Thebes._
+  ADRASTUS, _Prince of Argos._
+  CREON, _Brother to_ JOCASTA.
+  TIRESIAS, _a blind Prophet._
+  HAEMON, _Captain of the Guard._
+  ALCANDER, }
+  DIOCLES,  } _Lords of_ CREON'S _faction._
+  PYRACMON, }
+  PHORBAS, _an old Shepherd._
+  DYMAS, _the Messenger returned from Delphos._
+  AEGEON, _the Corinthian Embassador._
+  _Ghost of_ LAIUS, _the late King of Thebes._
+
+  JOCASTA, _Queen of Thebes._
+  EURYDICE, _her Daughter, by_ LAIUS, _her first husband._
+  MANTO, _Daughter of_ TIRESIAS.
+
+  _Priests, Citizens, Attendants,_ &c.
+
+SCENE--_Thebes._
+
+
+
+
+                               OEDIPUS.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Curtain rises to a plaintive Tune, representing the
+  present condition of Thebes; dead Bodies appear at a distance in the
+  Streets; some faintly go over the Stage, others drop._
+
+  _Enter_ ALCANDER, DIOCLES, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Alc._ Methinks we stand on ruins; nature shakes
+About us; and the universal frame
+So loose, that it but wants another push,
+To leap from off its hinges.
+
+_Dioc._ No sun to cheer us; but a bloody globe,
+That rolls above, a bald and beamless fire,
+His face o'er-grown with scurf: The sun's sick, too;
+Shortly he'll be an earth.
+
+_Pyr._ Therefore the seasons
+Lie all confused; and, by the heavens neglected,
+Forget themselves: Blind winter meets the summer
+In his mid-way, and, seeing not his livery,
+Has driven him headlong back; and the raw damps,
+With flaggy wings, fly heavily about,
+Scattering their pestilential colds and rheums
+Through all the lazy air.
+
+_Alc._ Hence murrains followed
+On bleating flocks, and on the lowing herds:
+At last, the malady
+Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog
+Died at his master's feet[1].
+
+_Dioc._ And next, his master:
+For all those plagues, which earth and air had brooded,
+First on inferior creatures tried their force,
+And last they seized on man.
+
+_Pyr._ And then a thousand deaths at once advanced,
+And every dart took place; all was so sudden,
+That scarce a first man fell; one but began
+To wonder, and straight fell a wonder too;
+A third, who stooped to raise his dying friend,
+Dropt in the pious act.--Heard you that groan?        [_Groan within._
+
+_Dioc._ A troop of ghosts took flight together there.
+Now death's grown riotous, and will play no more
+For single stakes, but families and tribes.
+How are we sure we breathe not now our last,
+And that, next minute,
+Our bodies, cast into some common pit,
+Shall not be built upon, and overlaid
+By half a people?
+
+_Alc._ There's a chain of causes
+Linked to effects; invincible necessity,
+That whate'er is, could not but so have been;
+That's my security.
+
+  _To them, enter_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ So had it need, when all our streets lie covered
+With dead and dying men;
+And earth exposes bodies on the pavements,
+More than she hides in graves.
+Betwixt the bride and bridegroom have I seen
+The nuptial torch do common offices
+Of marriage and of death.
+
+_Dioc._ Now OEdipus
+(If he return from war, our other plague)
+Will scarce find half he left, to grace his triumphs.
+
+_Pyr._ A feeble paean will be sung before him.
+
+_Alc._ He would do well to bring the wives and children
+Of conquered Argians, to renew his Thebes.
+
+_Cre._ May funerals meet him at the city gates,
+With their detested omen!
+
+_Dioc._ Of his children.
+
+_Cre._ Nay, though she be my sister, of his wife.
+
+_Alc._ O that our Thebes might once again behold
+A monarch, Theban born!
+
+_Dioc._ We might have had one.
+
+_Pyr._ Yes, had the people pleased.
+
+_Cre._ Come, you are my friends:
+The queen my sister, after Laius' death,
+Feared to lie single; and supplied his place
+With a young successor.
+
+_Dioc._ He much resembles
+Her former husband too.
+
+_Alc._ I always thought so.
+
+_Pyr._ When twenty winters more have grizzled his black locks,
+He will be very Laius.
+
+_Cre._ So he will.
+Meantime, she stands provided of a Laius,
+More young, and vigorous too, by twenty springs.
+These women are such cunning purveyors!
+Mark, where their appetites have once been pleased,
+The same resemblance, in a younger lover,
+Lies brooding in their fancies the same pleasures,
+And urges their remembrance to desire.
+
+_Dioc._ Had merit, not her dotage, been considered;
+Then Creon had been king; but OEdipus,
+A stranger!
+
+_Cre._ That word, _stranger_, I confess,
+Sounds harshly in my ears.
+
+_Dioc._ We are your creatures.
+The people, prone, as in all general ills,
+To sudden change; the king, in wars abroad;
+The queen, a woman weak and unregarded;
+Eurydice, the daughter of dead Laius,
+A princess young and beauteous, and unmarried,--
+Methinks, from these disjointed propositions,
+Something might be produced.
+
+_Cre._ The gods have done
+Their part, by sending this commodious plague.
+But oh, the princess! her hard heart is shut
+By adamantine locks against my love.
+
+_Alc._ Your claim to her is strong; you are betrothed.
+
+_Pyr._ True, in her nonage.
+
+_Dioc._ I heard the prince of Argos, young Adrastus,
+When he was hostage here--
+
+_Cre._ Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes.
+That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms
+Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness,
+To please a woman yet more fool than he.
+That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form.
+And empty noise, and loves itself in man.
+
+_Alc._ But since the war broke out about our frontiers,
+He's now a foe to Thebes.
+
+_Cre._ But is not so to her. See, she appears;
+Once more I'll prove my fortune. You insinuate
+Kind thoughts of me into the multitude;
+Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom;
+And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad,
+As if the breeze had stung them.
+
+_Dioc._ We'll about it.                [_Exeunt_ ALC. DIOC. _and_ PYR.
+
+  _Enter_ EURYDICE.
+
+_Cre._ Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice,
+A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born,
+And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven,
+Thou seem'st more heaven's than ours.
+
+_Eur._ Cast round your eyes,
+Where late the streets were so thick sown with men,
+Like Cadmus' brood, they jostled for the passage;
+Now look for those erected heads, and see them,
+Like pebbles, paving all our public ways;
+When you have thought on this, then answer me,--
+If these be hours of courtship?
+
+_Cre._ Yes, they are;
+For when the gods destroy so fast, 'tis time
+We should renew the race.
+
+_Eur._ What, in the midst of horror?
+
+_Cre._ Why not then?
+There's the more need of comfort.
+
+_Eur._ Impious Creon!
+
+_Cre._ Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me
+Of love, which is heaven's precept, and not fear
+That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes,
+Should reach your perjuries?
+
+_Eur._ Still the old argument.
+I bade you cast your eyes on other men,
+Now cast them on yourself; think what you are.
+
+_Cre._ A man.
+
+_Eur._ A man!
+
+_Cre._ Why, doubt you I'm a man?
+
+_Eur._ 'Tis well you tell me so; I should mistake you
+For any other part o'the whole creation,
+Rather than think you man. Hence from my sight,
+Thou poison to my eyes!
+
+_Cre._ 'Twas you first poisoned mine; and yet, methinks,
+My face and person should not make you sport.
+
+_Eur._ You force me, by your importunities,
+To shew you what you are.
+
+_Cre._ A prince, who loves you;
+And, since your pride provokes me, worth your love.
+Even at its highest value.
+
+_Eur._ Love from thee!
+Why love renounced thee ere thou saw'st the light;
+Nature herself start back when thou wert born,
+And cried,--the work's not mine.
+The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw
+Thy mountain back, and thy distorted legs,
+Thy face itself;
+Half-minted with the royal stamp of man,
+And half o'ercome with beast, stood doubting long,
+Whose right in thee were more;
+And knew not, if to burn thee in the flames
+Were not the holier work.
+
+_Cre._ Am I to blame, if nature threw my body
+In so perverse a mould? yet when she cast
+Her envious hand upon my supple joints,
+Unable to resist, and rumpled them
+On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge
+Her bungled work, she stampt my mind more fair;
+And as from chaos, huddled and deformed,
+The god struck fire, and lighted up the lamps
+That beautify the sky, so he informed
+This ill-shaped body with a daring soul;
+And, making less than man, he made me more.
+
+_Eur._ No; thou art all one error, soul and body;
+The first young trial of some unskilled power,
+Rude in the making art, and ape of Jove.
+Thy crooked mind within hunched out thy back,
+And wandered in thy limbs. To thy own kind
+Make love, if thou canst find it in the world;
+And seek not from our sex to raise an offspring,
+Which, mingled with the rest, would tempt the gods,
+To cut off human kind.
+
+_Cre._ No; let them leave
+The Argian prince for you. That enemy
+Of Thebes has made you false, and break the vows
+You made to me.
+
+_Eur._ They were my mother's vows,
+Made when I was at nurse.
+
+_Cre._ But hear me, maid:
+This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon,
+Is master of a sword, to reach the blood
+Of your young minion, spoil the gods' fine work,
+And stab you in his heart.
+
+_Eur._ This when thou dost,
+Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me;
+And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed;
+And let his ghost--No, let his ghost have rest--
+But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury,
+Let Creon haunt himself.                                  [_Exit_ EUR.
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis true, I am
+What she has told me--an offence to sight:
+My body opens inward to my soul,
+And lets in day to make my vices seen
+By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar.
+I must make haste, ere OEdipus return,
+To snatch the crown and her--for I still love,
+But love with malice. As an angry cur
+Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch
+The hunger of my love on this proud beauty,
+And leave the scraps for slaves.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, and led by his Daughter_
+  MANTO.
+
+What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad?
+Would his Apollo had him! he's too holy
+For earth and me; I'll shun his walk, and seek
+My popular friends.                                     [_Exit_ CREON.
+
+_Tir._ A little farther; yet a little farther,
+Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man,
+Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest
+For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not,
+With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay;
+Methinks I draw more open, vital air.
+Where are we?
+
+_Man._ Under covert of a wall;
+The most frequented once, and noisy part
+Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here,
+And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet.
+
+_Tir._ If there be nigh this place a sunny bank,
+There let me rest awhile:--A sunny bank!
+Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines,
+But a dim winking taper in the skies,
+That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head,
+To glimmer through the damps!      [_A Noise within._ Follow, follow,
+                                    follow! A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon's name
+Thrice echoed.
+
+_Man._ Fly, the tempest drives this way.
+
+_Tir._ Whither can age and blindness take their flight?
+If I could fly, what could I suffer worse,
+Secure of greater ills?           [_Noise again,_ Creon, Creon, Creon!
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, DIOCLES, ALCANDER, PYRACMON; _followed by the Crowd._
+
+_Cre._ I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse
+The honours you intend me; they're too great,
+And I am too unworthy; think again,
+And make a better choice.
+
+_1 Cit._ Think twice! I ne'er thought twice in all my life;
+That's double work.
+
+_2 Cit._ My first word is always my second; and therefore I'll have no
+second word; and therefore, once again, I say, A Creon!
+
+_All._ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+
+_Cre._ Yet hear me, fellow-citizens.
+
+_Dioc._ Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness!
+
+_Alc._ When did OEdipus salute you by that familiar name?
+
+_1 Cit._ Never, never; he was too proud.
+
+_Cre._ Indeed he could not, for he was a stranger;
+But under him our Thebes is half destroyed.
+Forbid it, heaven, the residue should perish
+Under a Theban born!
+'Tis true, the gods might send this plague among you,
+Because a stranger ruled; but what of that?
+Can I redress it now?
+
+_3 Cit._ Yes, you or none.
+'Tis certain that the gods are angry with us,
+Because he reigns.
+
+_Cre._ OEdipus may return; you may be ruined.
+
+_1 Cit._ Nay, if that be the matter, we are ruined already.
+
+_2 Cit._ Half of us, that are here present, were living men but
+yesterday; and we, that are absent, do but drop and drop, and no man
+knows whether he be dead or living. And therefore, while we are sound
+and well, let us satisfy our consciences, and make a new king.
+
+_3 Cit._ Ha, if we were but worthy to see another coronation! and
+then, if we must die, we'll go merrily together.
+
+_All._ To the question, to the question.
+
+_Dioc._ Are you content, Creon should be your king?
+
+_All_ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!
+
+_Tir._ Hear me, ye Thebans, and thou Creon, hear me.
+
+_1 Cit._ Who's that would be heard? we'll hear no man; we can scarce
+hear one another.
+
+_Tir._ I charge you, by the gods, to hear me.
+
+_2 Cit._ Oh, it is Apollo's priest, we must hear him; it is the old
+blind prophet, that sees all things.
+
+_3 Cit._ He comes from the gods too, and they are our betters; and, in
+good manners, we must hear him:--Speak, prophet.
+
+_2 Cit._ For coming from the gods, that's no great matter, they can
+all say that: but he is a great scholar; he can make almanacks, an' he
+were put to it; and therefore I say, hear him.
+
+_Tir._ When angry heaven scatters its plagues among you,
+Is it for nought, ye Thebans? are the gods
+Unjust in punishing? are there no crimes,
+Which pull this vengeance down?
+
+_1 Cit._ Yes, yes; no doubt there are some sins stirring, that are the
+cause of all.
+
+_3 Cit._ Yes, there are sins, or we should have no taxes.
+
+_2 Cit._ For my part, I can speak it with a safe conscience, I never
+sinned in all my life.
+
+_1 Cit._ Nor I.
+
+_3 Cit._ Nor I.
+
+_2 Cit._ Then we are all justified; the sin lies not at our doors.
+
+_Tir._ All justified alike, and yet all guilty!
+Were every man's false dealing brought to light,
+His envy, malice, lying, perjuries,
+His weights and measures, the other man's extortions,
+With what face could you tell offended heaven,
+You had not sinned?
+
+_2 Cit._ Nay, if these be sins, the case is altered; for my part, I
+never thought any thing but murder had been a sin.
+
+_Tir._ And yet, as if all these were less than nothing,
+You add rebellion to them, impious Thebans!
+Have you not sworn before the gods to serve
+And to obey this OEdipus, your king
+By public voice elected? answer me,
+If this be true!
+
+_2 Cit._ This is true; but its a hard world, neighbours,
+If a man's oath must be his master.
+
+_Cre._ Speak, Diocles; all goes wrong.
+
+_Dioc._ How are you traitors, countrymen of Thebes?
+This holy sire, who presses you with oaths,
+Forgets your first; were you not sworn before
+To Laius and his blood?
+
+_All._ We were; we were.
+
+_Dioc._ While Laius has a lawful successor,
+Your first oath still must bind: Eurydice
+Is heir to Laius; let her marry Creon.
+Offended heaven will never be appeased,
+While OEdipus pollutes the throne of Laius,
+A stranger to his blood.
+
+_All._ We'll no OEdipus, no OEdipus.
+
+_1 Cit._ He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.
+
+_2 Cit._ I knew it would be so; the last man ever speaks the best
+reason.
+
+_Tir._ Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans!
+Remember yet, when, after Laius' death,
+The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste,
+Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew,
+Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls;
+She, taller than your gates, o'er-looked your town;
+But when she raised her bulk to sail above you,
+She drove the air around her like a whirlwind,
+And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down,
+She clap'd her leathern wing against your towers,
+And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors[2].
+
+_Dioc. Alc. Pyr._ We'll hear no more.
+
+_Tir._ You durst not meet in temples,
+To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he,
+Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared[3] lark:
+This Creon shook for fear,
+The blood of Laius curdled in his veins,
+'Till OEdipus arrived.
+Called by his own high courage and the gods,
+Himself to you a god, ye offered him
+Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!)
+And heaven authorized it by his success.
+Speak then, who is your lawful king?
+
+_All._ 'Tis OEdipus.
+
+_Tir._ 'Tis OEdipus indeed: Your king more lawful
+Than yet you dream; for something still there lies
+In heaven's dark volume, which I read through mists:
+'Tis great, prodigious; 'tis a dreadful birth,
+Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing.
+I see, I see! how terrible it dawns,
+And my soul sickens with it!
+
+_1 Cit._ How the god shakes him!
+
+_Tir._ He comes, he comes! Victory! conquest! triumph!
+But oh! guiltless and guilty: murder! parricide!
+Incest! discovery! punishment--'tis ended,
+And all your sufferings o'er.
+
+  _A Trumpet within: enter_ HAEMON.
+
+_Haem._ Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your _Io Paeans_!
+Your king returns; the Argians are o'ercome;
+Their warlike prince in single combat taken,
+And led in bands by god-like OEdipus!
+
+_All._ OEdipus, OEdipus, OEdipus!
+
+_Creon._ Furies confound his fortune!--                      [_Aside._
+Haste, all haste,                                          [_To them._
+And meet with blessings our victorious king;
+Decree processions; bid new holidays;
+Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands;
+And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed,--
+_To OEdipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes._
+Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.
+
+_Tir._ Yes, heaven knows why thou weep'st.--Go, countrymen,
+And, as you use to supplicate your gods,
+So meet your king with bays, and olive branches;
+Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him
+An end of all your woes; for only he
+Can give it you.             [_Exit_ TIRESIAS, _the People following._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _in triumph;_ ADRASTUS _prisoner;_ DYMAS, _Train._
+
+_Cre._ All hail, great OEdipus!
+Thou mighty conqueror, hail; welcome to Thebes;
+To thy own Thebes; to all that's left of Thebes;
+For half thy citizens are swept away,
+And wanting for thy triumphs;
+And we, the happy remnant, only live
+To welcome thee, and die.
+
+_OEdip._ Thus pleasure never comes sincere to man,
+But lent by heaven upon hard usury;
+And while Jove holds us out the bowl of joy,
+Ere it can reach our lips, 'tis dashed with gall
+By some left-handed god. O mournful triumph!
+O conquest gained abroad, and lost at home!
+O Argos, now rejoice, for Thebes lies low!
+Thy slaughtered sons now smile, and think they won,
+When they can count more Theban ghosts than theirs.
+
+_Adr._ No; Argos mourns with Thebes; you tempered so
+Your courage while you fought, that mercy seemed
+The manlier virtue, and much more prevailed;
+While Argos is a people, think your Thebes
+Can never want for subjects. Every nation
+Will crowd to serve where OEdipus commands.
+
+_Cre._ [_To_ HAEM.]
+How mean it shews, to fawn upon the victor!
+
+_Haem._ Had you beheld him fight, you had said otherwise.
+Come, 'tis brave bearing in him, not to envy
+Superior virtue.
+
+_OEdip._ This indeed is conquest,
+To gain a friend like you: Why were we foes?
+
+_Adr._ 'Cause we were kings, and each disdained an equal.
+I fought to have it in my power to do
+What thou hast done, and so to use my conquest.
+To shew thee, honour was my only motive,
+Know this, that were my army at thy gates,
+And Thebes thus waste, I would not take the gift,
+Which, like a toy dropt from the hands of fortune,
+Lay for the next chance-comer.
+
+_OEdip._ [_Embracing._] No more captive,
+But brother of the war. 'Tis much more pleasant,
+And safer, trust me, thus to meet thy love,
+Than when hard gauntlets clenched our warlike hands,
+And kept them from soft use.
+
+_Adr._ My conqueror!
+
+_OEdip._ My friend! that other name keeps enmity alive.
+But longer to detain thee were a crime;
+To love, and to Eurydice, go free.
+Such welcome, as a ruined town can give,
+Expect from me; the rest let her supply.
+
+_Adr._ I go without a blush, though conquered twice,
+By you, and by my princess.                          [_Exit_ ADRASTUS.
+
+_Cre._ [_Aside._] Then I am conquered thrice; by OEdipus,
+And her, and even by him, the slave of both.
+Gods, I'm beholden to you, for making me your image;
+Would I could make you mine!                            [_Exit_ CREON.
+
+  _Enter the People with branches in their hands, holding them up, and
+  kneeling: Two Priests before them._
+
+_OEdip._ Alas, my people!
+What means this speechless sorrow, downcast eyes,
+And lifted hands? If there be one among you,
+Whom grief has left a tongue, speak for the rest.
+
+_1 Pr._ O father of thy country!
+To thee these knees are bent, these eyes are lifted,
+As to a visible divinity;
+A prince, on whom heaven safely might repose
+The business of mankind; for Providence
+Might on thy careful bosom sleep secure,
+And leave her task to thee.
+But where's the glory of thy former acts?
+Even that's destroyed, when none shall live to speak it.
+Millions of subjects shalt thou have; but mute.
+A people of the dead; a crowded desert;
+A midnight silence at the noon of day.
+
+_OEdip._ O were our gods as ready with their pity,
+As I with mine, this presence should be thronged
+With all I left alive; and my sad eyes
+Not search in vain for friends, whose promised sight
+Flattered my toils of war.
+
+_1 Pr._ Twice our deliverer!
+
+_OEdip._ Nor are now your vows
+Addrest to one who sleeps.
+When this unwelcome news first reached my ears,
+Dymas was sent to Delphos, to enquire
+The cause and cure of this contagious ill,
+And is this day returned; but, since his message
+Concerns the public, I refused to hear it
+But in this general presence: Let him speak.
+
+_Dym._ A dreadful answer from the hallowed urn,
+And sacred tripos, did the priestess give,
+In these mysterious words.
+
+_The Oracle._ _Shed in a cursed hour, by cursed hand,
+Blood-royal unrevenged has cursed the land.
+When Laius' death is expiated well,
+Your plague shall cease. The rest let Laius tell._
+
+_OEdip._ Dreadful indeed! Blood, and a king's blood too!
+And such a king's, and by his subjects shed!
+(Else why this curse on Thebes?) No wonder then
+If monsters, wars, and plagues, revenge such crimes!
+If heaven be just, its whole artillery,
+All must be emptied on us: Not one bolt
+Shall err from Thebes; but more be called for, more;
+New-moulded thunder of a larger size,
+Driven by whole Jove. What, touch anointed power!
+Then, Gods, beware; Jove would himself be next,
+Could you but reach him too.
+
+_2 Pr._ We mourn the sad remembrance.
+
+_OEdip._ Well you may;
+Worse than a plague infects you: You're devoted
+To mother earth, and to the infernal powers;
+Hell has a right in you. I thank you, gods,
+That I'm no Theban born: How my blood curdles!
+As if this curse touched me, and touched me nearer
+Than all this presence!--Yes, 'tis a king's blood,
+And I, a king, am tied in deeper bonds
+To expiate this blood. But where, from whom,
+Or how must I atone it? Tell me, Thebans,
+How Laius fell; for a confused report
+Passed through my ears, when first I took the crown;
+But full of hurry, like a morning dream,
+It vanished in the business of the day.[4]
+
+_1 Pr._ He went in private forth, but thinly followed,
+And ne'er returned to Thebes.
+
+_OEdip._ Nor any from him? came there no attendant?
+None to bring news?
+
+_2 Pr._ But one; and he so wounded,
+He scarce drew breath to speak some few faint words.
+
+_OEdip._ What were they? something may be learnt from thence.
+
+_1 Pr._ He said, a band of robbers watched their passage,
+Who took advantage of a narrow way,
+To murder Laius and the rest; himself
+Left too for dead.
+
+_OEdip._ Made you no more enquiry,
+But took this bare relation?
+
+_2 Pr._ 'Twas neglected;
+For then the monster Sphinx began to rage,
+And present cares soon buried the remote:
+So was it hushed, and never since revived.
+
+_OEdip._ Mark, Thebans, mark!
+Just then, the Sphinx began to rage among you;
+The gods took hold even of the offending minute,
+And dated thence your woes: Thence will I trace them.
+
+_1 Pr._ 'Tis just thou should'st.
+
+_OEdip._ Hear then this dreadful imprecation; hear it;
+'Tis laid on all; not any one exempt:
+Bear witness, heaven, avenge it on the perjured!
+If any Theban born, if any stranger
+Reveal this murder, or produce its author,
+Ten attick talents be his just reward:
+But if, for fear, for favour, or for hire,
+The murderer he conceal, the curse of Thebes
+Fall heavy on his head: Unite our plagues,
+Ye gods, and place them there: From fire and water,
+Converse, and all things common, be he banished.
+But for the murderer's self, unfound by man,
+Find him, ye powers celestial and infernal!
+And the same fate, or worse than Laius met,
+Let be his lot: His children be accurst;
+His wife and kindred, all of his, be cursed!
+
+_Both Pr._ Confirm it, heaven!
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA, _attended by Women._
+
+_Joc._ At your devotions? Heaven succeed your wishes;
+And bring the effect of these your pious prayers
+On you, and me, and all.
+
+_Pr._ Avert this omen, heaven!
+
+_OEdip._ O fatal sound! unfortunate Jocasta!
+What hast thou said! an ill hour hast thou chosen
+For these fore-boding words! why, we were cursing!
+
+_Joc._ Then may that curse fall only where you laid it.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak no more!
+For all thou say'st is ominous: We were cursing;
+And that dire imprecation has thou fastened
+On Thebes, and thee, and me, and all of us.
+
+_Joc._ Are then my blessings turned into a curse?
+O unkind OEdipus! My former lord
+Thought me his blessing; be thou like my Laius.
+
+_OEdip._ What, yet again? the third time hast thou cursed me:
+This imprecation was for Laius' death,
+And thou hast wished me like him.
+
+_Joc._ Horror seizes me!
+
+_OEdip._ Why dost thou gaze upon me? pr'ythee, love,
+Take off thy eye; it burdens me too much.
+
+_Joc._ The more I look, the more I find of Laius:
+His speech, his garb, his action; nay, his frown,--
+For I have seen it,--but ne'er bent on me.
+
+_OEdip._ Are we so like?
+
+_Joc._ In all things but his love.
+
+_OEdip._ I love thee more: So well I love, words cannot speak how well.
+No pious son e'er loved his mother more,
+Than I my dear Jocasta.
+
+_Joc._ I love you too
+The self-same way; and when you chid, methought
+A mother's love start[5] up in your defence,
+And bade me not be angry. Be not you;
+For I love Laius still, as wives should love;
+But you more tenderly, as part of me:
+And when I have you in my arms, methinks
+I lull my child asleep.
+
+_OEdip._ Then we are blest;
+And all these curses sweep along the skies
+Like empty clouds, but drop not on our heads.
+
+_Joc._ I have not joyed an hour since you departed,
+For public miseries, and for private fears;
+But this blest meeting has o'er-paid them all.
+Good fortune, that comes seldom, comes more welcome.
+All I can wish for now, is your consent
+To make my brother happy.
+
+_OEdip._ How, Jocasta?
+
+_Joc._ By marriage with his niece, Eurydice.
+
+_OEdip._ Uncle and niece! they are too near, my love;
+'Tis too like incest; 'tis offence to kind:
+Had I not promised, were there no Adrastus,
+No choice but Creon left her of mankind,
+They should not marry: Speak no more of it;
+The thought disturbs me.
+
+_Joc._ Heaven can never bless
+A vow so broken, which I made to Creon;
+Remember, he is my brother.
+
+_OEdip._ That is the bar;
+And she thy daughter: Nature would abhor
+To be forced back again upon herself,
+And, like a whirlpool, swallow her own streams.
+
+_Joc._ Be not displeased: I'll move the suit no more.
+
+_OEdip._ No, do not; for, I know not why, it shakes me,
+When I but think on incest. Move we forward,
+  To thank the gods for my success, and pray
+  To wash the guilt of royal blood away.                    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_An open Gallery. A Royal Bed-chamber being supposed behind.
+
+The Time, Night. Thunder, &c._
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON, ALCANDER, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Haem._ Sure 'tis the end of all things! fate has torn
+The lock of time off, and his head is now
+The ghastly ball of round eternity!
+Call you these peals of thunder, but the yawn
+Of bellowing clouds? By Jove, they seem to me
+The world's last groans; and those vast sheets of flame
+Are its last blaze. The tapers of the gods,
+The sun and moon, run down like waxen-globes;
+The shooting stars end all in purple jellies[6],
+And chaos is at hand.
+
+_Pyr._ 'Tis midnight, yet there's not a Theban sleeps,
+But such as ne'er must wake. All crowd about
+The palace, and implore, as from a god,
+Help of the king; who, from the battlement,
+By the red lightning's glare descried afar,
+Atones the angry powers.                               [_Thunder, &c._
+
+_Haem._ Ha! Pyracmon, look;
+Behold, Alcander, from yon' west of heaven,
+The perfect figures of a man and woman;
+A sceptre, bright with gems, in each right hand,
+Their flowing robes of dazzling purple made:
+Distinctly yonder in that point they stand,
+Just west; a bloody red stains all the place;
+And see, their faces are quite hid in clouds.
+
+_Pyr._ Clusters of golden stars hang o'er their heads,
+And seem so crowded, that they burst upon them:
+All dart at once their baleful influence,
+In leaking fire.
+
+_Alc._ Long-bearded comets stick,
+Like flaming porcupines, to their left sides,
+As they would shoot their quills into their hearts.
+
+_Haem._ But see! the king, and queen, and all the court!
+Did ever day or night shew aught like this?
+                                    [_Thunders again. The Scene draws,
+                                     and discovers the Prodigies._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, EURYDICE, ADRASTUS; _and all coming
+  forward with amazement._
+
+_OEdip._ Answer, you powers divine! spare all this noise,
+This rack of heaven, and speak your fatal pleasure.
+Why breaks yon dark and dusky orb away?
+Why from the bleeding womb of monstrous night,
+Burst forth such myriads of abortive stars?
+Ha! my Jocasta, look! the silver moon!
+A settling crimson stains her beauteous face!
+She's all o'er blood! and look, behold again,
+What mean the mystic heavens she journies on?
+A vast eclipse darkens the labouring planet:--
+Sound there, sound all our instruments of war;
+Clarions and trumpets, silver, brass, and iron,
+And beat a thousand drums, to help her labour.
+
+_Adr._ 'Tis vain; you see the prodigies continue;
+Let's gaze no more, the gods are humorous.
+
+_OEdip._ Forbear, rash man.--Once more I ask your pleasure!
+If that the glow-worm light of human reason
+Might dare to offer at immortal knowledge,
+And cope with gods, why all this storm of nature?
+Why do the rocks split, and why rolls the sea?
+Why those portents in heaven, and plagues on earth?
+Why yon gigantic forms, ethereal monsters?
+Alas! is all this but to fright the dwarfs,
+Which your own hands have made? Then be it so.
+Or if the fates resolve some expiation
+For murdered Laius; hear me, hear me, gods!
+Hear me thus prostrate: Spare this groaning land,
+Save innocent Thebes, stop the tyrant death;
+Do this, and lo, I stand up an oblation,
+To meet your swiftest and severest anger;
+Shoot all at once, and strike me to the centre.
+
+  _The Cloud draws, that veiled the Heads of the Figures in the Sky,
+  and shews them crowned, with the names of_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA,
+  _written above in great characters of gold._
+
+_Adr._ Either I dream, and all my cooler senses
+Are vanished with that cloud that fleets away,
+Or just above those two majestic heads,
+I see, I read distinctly, in large gold,
+_OEdipus and Jocasta._
+
+_Alc._ I read the same.
+
+_Adr._ 'Tis wonderful; yet ought not man to wade
+Too far in the vast deep of destiny.
+                                 [_Thunder; and the Prodigies vanish._
+
+_Joc._ My lord, my OEdipus, why gaze you now,
+When the whole heaven is clear, as if the gods
+Had some new monsters made? will you not turn,
+And bless your people, who devour each word
+You breathe?
+
+_OEdip._ It shall be so.
+Yes, I will die, O Thebes, to save thee!
+Draw from my heart my blood, with more content
+Than e'er I wore thy crown.--Yet, O Jocasta!
+By all the endearments of miraculous love,
+By all our languishings, our fears in pleasure,
+Which oft have made us wonder; here I swear,
+On thy fair hand, upon thy breast I swear,
+I cannot call to mind, from budding childhood
+To blooming youth, a crime by me committed,
+For which the awful gods should doom my death.
+
+_Joc._ 'Tis not you, my lord,
+But he who murdered Laius, frees the land.
+Were you, which is impossible, the man,
+Perhaps my poniard first should drink your blood;
+But you are innocent, as your Jocasta,
+From crimes like those. This made me violent
+To save your life, which you unjust would lose:
+Nor can you comprehend, with deepest thought,
+The horrid agony you cast me in,
+When you resolved to die.
+
+_OEdip._ Is't possible?
+
+_Joc._ Alas! why start you so? Her stiffening grief,
+Who saw her children slaughtered all at once,
+Was dull to mine: Methinks, I should have made
+My bosom bare against the armed god,
+To save my OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ I pray, no more.
+
+_Joc._ You've silenced me, my lord.
+
+_OEdip._ Pardon me, dear Jocasta!
+Pardon a heart that sinks with sufferings,
+And can but vent itself in sobs and murmurs:
+Yet, to restore my peace, I'll find him out.
+Yes, yes, you gods! you shall have ample vengeance
+On Laius' murderer. O, the traitor's name!
+I'll know't, I will; art shall be conjured for it,
+And nature all unravelled.
+
+_Joc._ Sacred sir--
+
+_OEdip._ Rage will have way, and 'tis but just; I'll fetch him,
+Though lodged in air upon a dragon's wing,
+Though rocks should hide him: Nay, he shall be dragged
+From hell, if charms can hurry him along:
+His ghost shall be, by sage Tiresias' power,--
+Tiresias, that rules all beneath the moon,--
+Confined to flesh, to suffer death once more;
+And then be plunged in his first fires again.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ My lord,
+Tiresias attends your pleasure.
+
+_OEdip._ Haste, and bring him in.--
+O, my Jocasta, Eurydice, Adrastus,
+Creon, and all ye Thebans, now the end
+Of plagues, of madness, murders, prodigies,
+Draws on: This battle of the heavens and earth
+Shall by his wisdom be reduced to peace.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, led by his Daughter_ MANTO,
+  _followed by other Thebans._
+
+O thou, whose most aspiring mind
+Knows all the business of the courts above,
+Opens the closets of the gods, and dares
+To mix with Jove himself and Fate at council;
+O prophet, answer me, declare aloud
+The traitor, who conspired the death of Laius;
+Or be they more, who from malignant stars
+Have drawn this plague, that blasts unhappy Thebes?
+
+_Tir._ We must no more than Fate commissions us
+To tell; yet something, and of moment, I'll unfold,
+If that the god would wake; I feel him now,
+Like a strong spirit charmed into a tree,
+That leaps, and moves the wood without a wind:
+The roused god, as all this while he lay
+Entombed alive, starts and dilates himself;
+He struggles, and he tears my aged trunk
+With holy fury; my old arteries burst;
+My rivell'd skin,
+Like parchment, crackles at the hallowed fire;
+I shall be young again:--Manto, my daughter,
+Thou hast a voice that might have saved the bard
+Of Thrace, and forced the raging bacchanals,
+With lifted prongs, to listen to thy airs.
+O charm this god, this fury in my bosom,
+Lull him with tuneful notes, and artful strings,
+With powerful strains; Manto, my lovely child,
+Sooth the unruly godhead to be mild.
+
+        SONG TO APOLLO.
+
+  _Phoebus, god beloved by men,
+  At thy dawn, every beast is roused in his den;
+  At thy setting, all the birds of thy absence complain,
+  And we die, all die, till the morning comes again.
+      Phoebus, god beloved by men!
+      Idol of the eastern kings,
+      Awful as the god who flings
+      His thunder round, and the lightning wings;
+      God of songs, and Orphean strings,
+      Who to this mortal bosom brings
+      All harmonious heavenly things!
+      Thy drowsy prophet to revive,
+  Ten thousand thousand forms before him drive:
+  With chariots and horses all o'fire awake him,
+  Convulsions, and furies, and prophesies shake him:
+  Let him tell it in groans, though he bend with the load,
+  Though he burst with the weight of the terrible god._
+
+_Tir._ The wretch, who shed the blood of old Labdacides,
+Lives, and is great;
+But cruel greatness ne'er was long.
+The first of Laius' blood his life did seize,
+And urged his fate,
+Which else had lasting been and strong.
+The wretch, who Laius killed, must bleed or fly;
+Or Thebes, consumed with plagues, in ruins lie.
+
+_OEdip._ The first of Laius' blood! pronounce the person;
+May the god roar from thy prophetic mouth,
+That even the dead may start up, to behold;
+Name him, I say, that most accursed wretch,
+For, by the stars, he dies!
+Speak, I command thee;
+By Phoebus, speak; for sudden death's his doom:
+Here shall he fall, bleed on this very spot;
+His name, I charge thee once more, speak.
+
+_Tir._ 'Tis lost,
+Like what we think can never shun remembrance;
+Yet of a sudden's gone beyond the clouds.
+
+_OEdip._ Fetch it from thence; I'll have't, wheree'er it be.
+
+_Cre._ Let me entreat you, sacred sir, be calm,
+And Creon shall point out the great offender.
+'Tis true, respect of nature might enjoin
+Me silence, at another time; but, oh,
+Much more the power of my eternal love!
+That, that should strike me dumb; yet Thebes, my country--
+I'll break through all, to succour thee, poor city!
+O, I must speak.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak then, if aught thou knowest,
+As much thou seem'st to know,--delay no longer.
+
+_Cre._ O beauty! O illustrious, royal maid!
+To whom my vows were ever paid, till now;
+And with such modest, chaste, and pure affection,
+The coldest nymph might read'em without blushing;
+Art thou the murdress, then, of wretched Laius?
+And I, must I accuse thee! O my tears!
+Why will you fall in so abhorred a cause?
+But that thy beauteous, barbarous hand destroyed
+Thy father, (O monstrous act!) both gods
+And men at once take notice.
+
+_OEdip._ Eurydice!
+
+_Eur._ Traitor, go on; I scorn thy little malice;
+And knowing more my perfect innocence,
+Than gods and men, then how much more than thee,
+Who art their opposite, and formed a liar,
+I thus disdain thee! Thou once didst talk of love;
+Because I hate thy love,
+Thou dost accuse me.
+
+_Adr._ Villain, inglorious villain,
+And traitor, doubly damned, who durst blaspheme
+The spotless virtue of the brightest beauty;
+Thou diest: Nor shall the sacred majesty,     [_Draws and wounds him._
+That guards this place, preserve thee from my rage.
+
+_OEdip._ Disarm them both!--Prince, I shall make you know,
+That, I can tame you twice. Guards, seize him.
+
+_Adr._ Sir,
+I must acknowledge, in another cause
+Repentance might abash me; but I glory
+In this, and smile to see the traitor's blood.
+
+_OEdip._ Creon, you shall be satisfied at full.
+
+_Cre._ My hurt is nothing, sir; but I appeal
+To wise Tiresias, if my accusation
+Be not most true. The first of Laius' blood
+Gave him his death. Is there a prince before her?
+Then she is faultless, and I ask her pardon.
+And may this blood ne'er cease to drop, O Thebes,
+If pity of thy sufferings did not move me,
+To shew the cure which heaven itself prescribed.
+
+_Eur._ Yes, Thebans, I will die to save your lives.
+More willingly than you can wish my fate;
+But let this good, this wise, this holy man,
+Pronounce my sentence: For to fall by him,
+By the vile breath of that prodigious villain,
+Would sink my soul, though I should die a martyr.
+
+_Adr._ Unhand me, slaves.--O mightiest of kings,
+See at your feet a prince not used to kneel;
+Touch not Eurydice, by all the gods,
+As you would save your Thebes, but take my life:
+For should she perish, heaven would heap plagues on plagues,
+Rain sulphur down, hurl kindled bolts
+Upon your guilty heads.
+
+_Cre._ You turn to gallantry, what is but justice;
+Proof will be easy made. Adrastus was
+The robber, who bereft the unhappy king
+Of life; because he flatly had denied
+To make so poor a prince his son-in-law;
+Therefore 'twere fit that both should perish.
+
+_1 Theb._ Both, let both die.
+
+_All Theb._ Both, both; let them die.
+
+_OEdip._ Hence, you wild herd! For your ringleader here,
+He shall be made example. Haemon, take him.
+
+_1 Theb._ Mercy, O mercy!
+
+_OEdip._ Mutiny in my presence!
+Hence, let me see that busy face no more.
+
+_Tir._ Thebans, what madness makes you drunk with rage?
+Enough of guilty death's already acted:
+Fierce Creon has accused Eurydice,
+With prince Adrastus; which the god reproves
+By inward checks, and leaves their fates in doubt.
+
+_OEdip._ Therefore instruct us what remains to do,
+Or suffer; for I feel a sleep like death
+Upon me, and I sigh to be at rest.
+
+_Tir._ Since that the powers divine refuse to clear
+The mystic deed, I'll to the grove of furies;
+There I can force the infernal gods to shew
+Their horrid forms; each trembling ghost shall rise,
+And leave their grisly king without a waiter.
+For prince Adrastus and Eurydice,
+My life's engaged, I'll guard them in the fane,
+'Till the dark mysteries of hell are done.
+Follow me, princes; Thebans, all to rest.
+O, OEdipus, to-morrow--but no more.
+If that thy wakeful genius will permit,
+Indulge thy brain this night with softer slumbers:
+To-morrow, O to-morrow!--Sleep, my son;
+And in prophetic dreams thy fate be shown.
+                             [_Exeunt_ TIR. ADR. EUR. MAN. _and Theb._
+
+  _Manent_ OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CREON, PYRACMON, HAEMON, _and_ ALCANDER.
+
+_OEdip._ To bed, my fair, my dear, my best Jocasta.
+After the toils of war, 'tis wondrous strange
+Our loves should thus be dashed. One moment's thought,
+And I'll approach the arms of my beloved.
+
+_Joc._ Consume whole years in care, so now and then
+I may have leave to feed my famished eyes
+With one short passing glance, and sigh my vows:
+This, and no more, my lord, is all the passion
+Of languishing Jocasta.                                       [_Exit._
+
+_OEdip._ Thou softest, sweetest of the world! good night.--
+Nay, she is beauteous too; yet, mighty love!
+I never offered to obey thy laws,
+But an unusual chillness came upon me;
+An unknown hand still checked my forward joy,
+Dashed me with blushes, though no light was near;
+That even the act became a violation.
+
+_Pyr._ He's strangely thoughtful.
+
+_OEdip._ Hark! who was that? Ha! Creon, didst thou call me?
+
+_Cre._ Not I, my gracious lord, nor any here.
+
+_OEdip._ That's strange! methought I heard a doleful voice
+Cry, OEdipus.--The prophet bade me sleep.
+He talked of dreams, and visions, and to-morrow!
+I'll muse no more; come what will, or can,
+My thoughts are clearer than unclouded stars;
+And with those thoughts I'll rest. Creon, good-night.
+                                                     [_Exit with_ HAEM.
+
+_Cre._ Sleep seal your eyes up, sir,--eternal sleep!
+But if he sleep and wake again, O all
+Tormenting dreams, wild horrors of the night,
+And hags of fancy, wing him through the air:
+From precipices hurl him headlong down,
+Charybdis roar, and death be set before him!
+
+_Alc._ Your curses have already taken effect,
+For he looks very sad.
+
+_Cre._ May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever;
+His eye-balls never move, brows be unbent,
+His blood, his entrails, liver, heart, and bowels,
+Be blacker than the place I wish him, hell.
+
+_Pyr._ No more; you tear yourself, but vex not him.
+Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the temple,
+While blind Tiresias conjures up the fiends,
+And pass the time with nice Eurydice.
+
+_Alc._ Try promises and threats, and if all fail,
+Since hell's broke loose, why should not you be mad?
+Ravish, and leave her dead with her Adrastus.
+
+_Cre._ Were the globe mine, I'd give a province hourly
+For such another thought.--Lust and revenge!
+To stab at once the only man I hate,
+And to enjoy the woman whom I love!
+I ask no more of my auspicious stars,
+The rest as fortune please; so but this night
+She play me fair, why, let her turn for ever.
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON.
+
+_Haem._ My lord, the troubled king is gone to rest;
+Yet, ere he slept, commanded me to clear
+The antichambers; none must dare be near him.
+
+_Cre._ Haemon, you do your duty;                            [_Thunder._
+And we obey.--The night grows yet more dreadful!
+'Tis just that all retire to their devotions.
+The gods are angry; but to-morrow's dawn,
+If prophets do not lie, will make all clear.
+
+  _As they go off,_ OEDIPUS _enters, walking asleep in his shirt, with
+  a dagger in his right hand, and a taper in his left._
+
+_OEdip._ O, my Jocasta! 'tis for this, the wet
+Starved soldier lies on the cold ground;
+For this, he bears the storms
+Of winter camps, and freezes in his arms;
+To be thus circled, to be thus embraced.
+That I could hold thee ever!--Ha! where art thou?
+What means this melancholy light, that seems
+The gloom of glowing embers?
+The curtain's drawn; and see she's here again!
+Jocasta? Ha! what, fallen asleep so soon?
+How fares my love? this taper will inform me.--
+Ha! Lightning blast me, thunder
+Rivet me ever to Prometheus' rock,
+And vultures gnaw out my incestuous heart!--
+By all the gods, my mother Merope!
+My sword! a dagger! ha, who waits there? Slaves,
+My sword!--What, Haemon, dar'st thou, villain, stop me?
+With thy own poniard perish.--Ha! who's this?
+Or is't a change of death? By all my honours,
+New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:
+Incest and parricide,--thy father's murderer!
+Out, thou infernal flame!--Now all is dark,
+All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!
+And now, while thus I stalk about the room,
+I challenge Fate to find another wretch
+Like OEdipus!                                          [_Thunder,_ &c.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA _attended, with Lights, in a Night-gown._
+
+_OEdip._ Night, horror, death, confusion, hell, and furies!
+Where am I?--O, Jocasta, let me hold thee,
+Thus to my bosom! ages let me grasp thee!
+All that the hardest-tempered weathered flesh,
+With fiercest human spirit inspired, can dare,
+Or do, I dare; but, oh you powers, this was,
+By infinite degrees, too much for man.
+Methinks my deafened ears
+Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knocked
+By some tempestuous hand, shoot flashing fire;--
+That sleep should do this!
+
+_Joc._ Then my fears were true.
+Methought I heard your voice,--and yet I doubted,--
+Now roaring like the ocean, when the winds
+Fight with the waves; now, in a still small tone
+Your dying accents fell, as wrecking ships,
+After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down,
+And bubble up a noise.
+
+_OEdip._ Trust me, thou fairest, best of all thy kind,
+None e'er in dreams was tortured so before.
+Yet what most shocks the niceness of my temper,
+Even far beyond the killing of my father,
+And my own death, is, that this horrid sleep
+Dashed my sick fancy with an act of incest:
+I dreamt, Jocasta, that thou wert my mother;
+Which, though impossible, so damps my spirits,
+That I could do a mischief on myself,
+Lest I should sleep, and dream the like again.
+
+_Joc._ O OEdipus, too well I understand you!
+I know the wrath of heaven, the care of Thebes,
+The cries of its inhabitants, war's toils,
+And thousand other labours of the state,
+Are all referred to you, and ought to take you
+For ever from Jocasta.
+
+_OEdip._ Life of my life, and treasure of my soul,
+Heaven knows I love thee.
+
+_Joc._ O, you think me vile,
+And of an inclination so ignoble,
+That I must hide me from your eyes for ever.
+Be witness, gods, and strike Jocasta dead,
+If an immodest thought, or low desire,
+Inflamed my breast, since first our loves were lighted.
+
+_OEdip._ O rise, and add not, by thy cruel kindness,
+A grief more sensible than all my torments.
+Thou thinkest my dreams are forged; but by thyself,
+The greatest oath, I swear, they are most true;
+But, be they what they will, I here dismiss them.
+Begone, chimeras, to your mother clouds!
+Is there a fault in us? Have we not searched
+The womb of heaven, examined all the entrails
+Of birds and beasts, and tired the prophet's art?
+Yet what avails? He, and the gods together,
+Seem, like physicians, at a loss to help us;
+Therefore, like wretches that have lingered long,
+We'll snatch the strongest cordial of our love;
+To bed, my fair.
+
+_Ghost._ [_Within._] OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! who calls?
+Didst thou not hear a voice?
+
+_Joc._ Alas! I did.
+
+_Ghost._ Jocasta!
+
+_Joc._ O my love, my lord, support me!
+
+_OEdip._ Call louder, till you burst your airy forms!--
+Rest on my hand. Thus, armed with innocence,
+I'll face these babbling daemons of the air;
+In spite of ghosts, I'll on.
+Though round my bed the furies plant their charms,
+I'll break them, with Jocasta in my arms;
+Clasped in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;
+And act my joys, though thunder shake the room.             [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_A dark Grove._
+
+  _Enter_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.
+
+_Dioc._ What mean you by these words?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than to be Creon.
+A thinking soul is punishment enough;
+But when 'tis great, like mine, and wretched too,
+Then every thought draws blood.
+
+_Dioc._ You are not wretched.
+
+_Cre._ I am: my soul's ill married to my body.
+I would be young, be handsome, be beloved:
+Could I but breathe myself into Adrastus!--
+
+_Dioc._ You rave; call home your thoughts.
+
+_Cre._ I pr'ythee let my soul take air a while;
+Were she in OEdipus, I were a king;
+Then I had killed a monster, gained a battle,
+And had my rival prisoner; brave, brave actions!
+Why have not I done these?
+
+_Dioc._ Your fortune hindered.
+
+_Cre._ There's it; I have a soul to do them all:
+But fortune will have nothing done that's great,
+But by young handsome fools; body and brawn
+Do all her work: Hercules was a fool,
+And straight grew famous; a mad boist'rous fool,
+Nay worse, a woman's fool;
+Fool is the stuff, of which heaven makes a hero.
+
+_Dioc._ A serpent ne'er becomes a flying dragon,
+Till he has eat a serpent[7].
+
+_Cre._ Goes it there?
+I understand thee; I must kill Adrastus.
+
+_Dioc._ Or not enjoy your mistress:
+Eurydice and he are prisoners here,
+But will not long be so: This tell-tale ghost
+Perhaps will clear 'em both.
+
+_Cre._ Well: 'tis resolved.
+
+_Dioc._ The princess walks this way;
+You must not meet her,
+Till this be done.
+
+_Cre._ I must.
+
+_Dioc._ She hates your sight;
+And more, since you accused her.
+
+_Cre._ Urge it not.
+I cannot stay to tell thee my design;
+For she's too near.
+
+  _Enter_ EURYDICE.
+
+How, madam, were your thoughts employed?
+
+_Eur._ On death, and thee.
+
+_Cre._ Then were they not well sorted: Life and me
+Had been the better match.
+
+_Eur._ No, I was thinking
+On two the most detested things in nature:
+And they are death and thee.
+
+_Cre._ The thought of death to one near death is dreadful!
+O 'tis a fearful thing to be no more;
+Or, if to be, to wander after death;
+To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day;
+And when the darkness comes, to glide in paths
+That lead to graves; and in the silent vault,
+Where lies your own pale shroud, to hover o'er it,
+Striving to enter your forbidden corps,
+And often, often, vainly breathe your ghost
+Into your lifeless lips;
+Then, like a lone benighted traveller,
+Shut out from lodging, shall your groans be answered
+By whistling winds, whose every blast will shake
+Your tender form to atoms.
+
+_Eur._ Must I be this thin being? and thus wander?
+No quiet after death!
+
+_Cre._ None: You must leave
+This beauteous body; all this youth and freshness
+Must be no more the object of desire,
+But a cold lump of clay;
+Which then your discontented ghost will leave,
+And loath its former lodging.
+This is the best of what comes after death.
+Even to the best.
+
+_Eur._ What then shall be thy lot?--
+Eternal torments, baths of boiling sulphur,
+Vicissitudes of fires, and then of frosts;
+And an old guardian fiend, ugly as thou art,
+To hollow in thy ears at every lash,--
+This for Eurydice; these for her Adrastus!
+
+_Cre._ For her Adrastus!
+
+_Eur._ Yes; for her Adrastus:
+For death shall ne'er divide us: Death? what's death!
+
+_Dioc._ You seemed to fear it.
+
+_Eur._ But I more fear Creon:
+To take that hunch-backed monster in my arms!
+The excrescence of a man!
+
+_Dioc. to Cre._ See what you've gained.
+
+_Eur._ Death only can be dreadful to the bad:
+To innocence, 'tis like a bug-bear dressed
+To frighten children; pull but off his masque,
+And he'll appear a friend.
+
+_Cre._ You talk too slightly
+Of death and hell. Let me inform you better.
+
+_Eur._ You best can tell the news of your own country.
+
+_Dioc._ Nay, now you are too sharp.
+
+_Eur._ Can I be so to one, who has accused me
+Of murder and of parricide?
+
+_Cre._ You provoked me:
+And yet I only did thus far accuse you,
+As next of blood to Laius: Be advised,
+And you may live.
+
+_Eur._ The means?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis offered you.
+The fool Adrastus has accused himself.
+
+_Eur._ He has indeed, to take the guilt from me.
+
+_Cre._ He says he loves you; if he does, 'tis well:
+He ne'er could prove it in a better time.
+
+_Eur._ Then death must be his recompence for love?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis a fool's just reward;
+The wise can make a better use of life.
+But 'tis the young man's pleasure; his ambition:
+I grudge him not that favour.
+
+_Eur._ When he's dead,
+Where shall I find his equal!
+
+_Cre._ Every where.
+Fine empty things, like him, the court swarms with them.
+Fine fighting things; in camps they are so common,
+Crows feed on nothing else: plenty of fools;
+A glut of them in Thebes.
+And fortune still takes care they should be seen:
+She places 'em aloft, o'th' topmost spoke
+Of all her wheel. Fools are the daily work
+Of nature; her vocation; if she form
+A man, she loses by't, 'tis too expensive;
+'Twould make ten fools: A man's a prodigy.
+
+_Eur._ That is, a Creon: O thou black detractor,
+Who spit'st thy venom against gods and men!
+Thou enemy of eyes;
+Thou, who lov'st nothing but what nothing loves,
+And that's thyself; who hast conspired against
+My life and fame, to make me loathed by all,
+And only fit for thee.
+But for Adrastus' death,--good Gods, his death!--
+What curse shall I invent?
+
+_Dioc._ No more: he's here.
+
+_Eur._ He shall be ever here.
+He who would give his life, give up his fame--
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS.
+
+If all the excellence of woman-kind
+Were mine;--No, 'tis too little all for him:
+Were I made up of endless, endless joys!
+
+_Adr._ And so thou art:
+The man, who loves like me,
+Would think even infamy, the worst of ills,
+Were cheaply purchased, were thy love the price.
+Uncrowned, a captive, nothing left but honour,--
+'Tis the last thing a prince should throw away;
+But when the storm grows loud, and threatens love,
+Throw even that o'er-board; for love's the jewel,
+And last it must be kept.
+
+_Cre._ [_To_ DIOC.] Work him, be sure,
+To rage; he is passionate;
+Make him the aggressor.
+
+_Dioc._ O false love, false honour!
+
+_Cre._ Dissembled both, and false!
+
+_Adr._ Darest thou say this to me?
+
+_Cre._ To you! why what are you, that I should fear you?
+I am not Laius. Hear me, prince of Argos;
+You give what's nothing, when you give your honour:
+'Tis gone; 'tis lost in battle. For your love,
+Vows made in wine are not so false as that:
+You killed her father; you confessed you did:
+A mighty argument to prove your passion to the daughter!
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._]
+Gods, must I bear this brand, and not retort
+The lye to his foul throat!
+
+_Dioc._ Basely you killed him.
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._]
+O, I burn inward: my blood's all on fire!
+Alcides, when the poisoned shirt sate closest,
+Had but an ague-fit to this my fever.
+Yet, for Eurydice, even this I'll suffer,
+To free my love.--Well then, I killed him basely.
+
+_Cre._ Fairly, I'm sure, you could not.
+
+_Dioc._ Nor alone.
+
+_Cre._ You had your fellow thieves about you, prince;
+They conquered, and you killed.
+
+_Adr._ [_Aside._] Down, swelling heart!
+'Tis for thy princess all:--O my Eurydice!--                [_To her._
+
+_Eur._ [_To him._]
+Reproach not thus the weakness of my sex,
+As if I could not bear a shameful death,
+Rather than see you burdened with a crime
+Of which I know you free.
+
+_Cre._ You do ill, madam,
+To let your head-long love triumph o'er nature:
+Dare you defend your father's murderer?
+
+_Eur._ You know he killed him not.
+
+_Cre._ Let him say so.
+
+_Dioc._ See, he stands mute.
+
+_Cre._ O power of conscience, even in wicked men!
+It works, it stings, it will not let him utter
+One syllable, one,--no, to clear himself
+From the most base, detested, horrid act
+That ere could stain a villain,--not a prince.
+
+_Adr._ Ha! villain!
+
+_Dioc._ Echo to him, groves: cry villain.
+
+_Adr._ Let me consider--did I murder Laius,
+Thus, like a villain?
+
+_Cre._ Best revoke your words,
+And say you killed him not.
+
+_Adr._ Not like a villain; pr'ythee, change me that
+For any other lye.
+
+_Dioc._ No, villain, villain.
+
+_Cre._ You killed him not! proclaim your innocence,
+Accuse the princess: So I knew 'twould be.
+
+_Adr._ I thank thee, thou instructest me:
+No matter how I killed him.
+
+_Cre._ [_Aside._] Cooled again!
+
+_Eur._ Thou, who usurp'st the sacred name of conscience,
+Did not thy own declare him innocent?
+To me declare him so? The king shall know it.
+
+_Cre._ You will not be believed, for I'll forswear it.
+
+_Eur._ What's now thy conscience?
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis my slave, my drudge, my supple glove,
+My upper garment, to put on, throw off,
+As I think best: 'Tis my obedient conscience.
+
+_Adr._ Infamous wretch!
+
+_Cre._ My conscience shall not do me the ill office
+To save a rival's life; when thou art dead,
+(As dead thou shalt be, or be yet more base
+Than thou think'st me,
+By forfeiting her life, to save thy own,--)
+Know this,--and let it grate thy very soul,--
+She shall be mine: (she is, if vows were binding;)
+Mark me, the fruit of all thy faith and passion,
+Even of thy foolish death, shall all be mine.
+
+_Adr._ Thine, say'st thou, monster! shall my love be thine?
+O, I can bear no more!
+Thy cunning engines have with labour raised
+My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,
+To fall and pash thee dead.
+See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion,                 [_Draws._
+Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;
+And in her room avenging thunder rolls,
+To blast thee thus!--Come both!--                        [_Both draw._
+
+_Cre._ 'Tis what I wished.
+Now see whose arm can launch the surer bolt,
+And who's the better Jove!                                   [_Fight._
+
+_Eur._ Help; murther, help!
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON _and guards, run betwixt them, and
+  beat down their swords._
+
+_Haem._ Hold, hold your impious hands! I think the furies,
+To whom this grove is hallowed, have inspired you:
+Now, by my soul, the holiest earth of Thebes
+You have profaned with war. Nor tree, nor plant
+Grows here, but what is fed with magick juice;
+All full of human souls, that cleave their barks
+To dance at midnight by the moon's pale beams:
+At least two hundred years these reverend shades
+Have known no blood, but of black sheep and oxen,
+Shed by the priest's own hand to Proserpine.
+
+_Adr._ Forgive a stranger's ignorance: I knew not
+The honours of the place.
+
+_Haem._ Thou, Creon, didst.
+Not OEdipus, were all his foes here lodged,
+Durst violate the religion of these groves,
+To touch one single hair; but must, unarmed,
+Parle as in truce, or surlily avoid
+What most he longed to kill[8].
+
+_Cre._ I drew not first,
+But in my own defence.
+
+_Adr._ I was provoked
+Beyond man's patience; all reproach could urge
+Was used to kindle one, not apt to bear.
+
+_Haem._ 'Tis OEdipus, not I, must judge this act.--
+Lord Creon, you and Diocles retire:
+Tiresias, and the brother-hood of priests,
+Approach the place: None at these rites assist,
+But you the accused, who by the mouth of Laius
+Must be absolved or doomed.
+
+_Adr._ I bear my fortune.
+
+_Eur._ And I provoke my trial.
+
+_Haem._ 'Tis at hand.
+For see, the prophet comes, with vervain crowned;
+The priests with yew, a venerable band;
+We leave you to the gods.    [_Exit_ HAEMON _with_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.
+
+  _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _led by_ MANTO: _The Priests follow; all cloathed
+  in long black habits._
+
+_Tir._ Approach, ye lovers;
+Ill-fated pair! whom, seeing not, I know,
+This day your kindly stars in heaven were joined;
+When lo, an envious planet interposed,
+And threatened both with death: I fear, I fear!--
+
+_Eur._ Is there no God so much a friend to love,
+Who can controul the malice of our fate?
+Are they all deaf; or have the giants heaven?
+
+_Tir._ The gods are just;
+But how can finite measure infinite?
+Reason! alas, it does not know itself!
+Yet man, vain man, would with this short-lined plummet,
+Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.
+Whatever is, is in its causes just;
+Since all things are by fate. But purblind man
+Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;
+His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,
+That poises all above.
+
+_Eur._ Then we must die!
+
+_Tir._ The danger's imminent this day.
+
+_Adr._ Why then there's one day less for human ills;
+And who would moan himself, for suffering that,
+Which in a day must pass? something, or nothing;--
+I shall be what I was again, before
+I was Adrastus.--
+Penurious heaven, can'st thou not add a night
+To our one day? give me a night with her,
+And I'll give all the rest.
+
+_Tir._ She broke her vow,
+First made to Creon: But the time calls on;
+And Laius' death must now be made more plain.
+How loth I am to have recourse to rites
+So full of horror, that I once rejoice
+I want the use of sight!--
+
+_1 Pr._ The ceremonies stay.
+
+_Tir._ _Chuse the darkest part o'the grove:
+Such as ghosts at noon-day love.
+Dig a trench, and dig it nigh_
+_Where the bones of Laius lie;
+Altars, raised of turf or stone,
+Will the infernal powers have none.
+Answer me, if this be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _'Tis done._
+
+_Tir._ _Is the sacrifice made fit?
+Draw her backward to the pit:
+Draw the barren heifer back;
+Barren let her be, and black.
+Cut the curled hair, that grows
+Full betwixt her horns and brows:
+And turn your faces from the sun:
+Answer me, if this be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _'Tis done._
+
+_Tir._ _Pour in blood, and blood like wine,
+To mother Earth and Proserpine:
+Mingle milk into the stream;
+Feast the ghosts that love the steam;
+Snatch a brand from funeral pile;
+Toss it in to make them boil:
+And turn your faces from the sun:
+Answer me, if all be done?_
+
+_All Pr._ _All is done._  [_Peal of Thunder; and flashes of Lightning;
+                           then groaning below the stage._
+
+_Man._ O, what laments are those?
+
+_Tir._ The groans of ghosts, that cleave the heart with pain,
+And heave it up: they pant and stick half-way.
+                                         [_The Stage wholly darkened._
+
+_Man._ And now a sudden darkness covers all,
+True genuine night, night added to the groves;
+The fogs are blown full in the face of heaven.
+
+_Tir._ Am I but half obeyed? infernal gods,
+Must you have musick too? then tune your voices,
+And let them have such sounds as hell ne'er heard,
+Since Orpheus bribed the shades.
+
+  _Musick First. Then Song._
+
+_1. Hear, ye sullen powers below:
+     Hear, ye taskers of the dead.
+2. You that boiling cauldrons blow,
+     You that scum the molten lead.
+3. You that pinch with red-hot tongs;
+1. You that drive the trembling hosts
+     Of poor, poor ghosts,
+   With your sharpened prongs;
+2. You that thrust them off the brim;
+3. You that plunge them when they swim:
+1. Till they drown;
+     Till they go
+     On a row,
+   Down, down, down:
+   Ten thousand, thousand, thousand fathoms low._
+
+_Chorus._ _Till they drown, &c._
+
+_1. Musick for awhile
+   Shall your cares beguile:
+   Wondering how your pains were eased;
+2. And disdaining to be pleas'd;
+1. Till Alecto free the dead
+     From their eternal bands;
+   Till the snakes drop from her head,
+     And whip from out her hands.
+1. Come away,
+     Do not stay,
+     But obey,
+     While we play,
+     For hell's broke up, and ghosts have holiday._
+
+_Chorus._ _Come away, &c._   [_A flash of Lightning: The Stage is made
+                              bright, and the Ghosts are seen passing
+                              betwixt the Trees._
+
+_1. Laius! 2. Laius! 3. Laius!_
+
+_1. Hear! 2. Hear! 3. Hear!_
+
+_Tir._ _Hear and appear!
+By the Fates that spun thy thread!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three._
+
+_Tir._ _By the furies fierce and dread!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three._
+
+_Tir._ _By the judges of the dead!_
+
+_Cho._ _Which are three.
+       Three times three!_
+
+_Tir._ _By hell's blue flame:
+       By the Stygian Lake:
+     And by Demogorgon's name,
+       At which ghosts quake,
+     Hear and appear!_
+                      [_The Ghost of Laius rises armed in his chariot,
+                       as he was slain. And behind his Chariot,
+                       sit the three who were murdered with him._
+
+_Ghost of Laius._ Why hast thou drawn me from my pain below,
+To suffer worse above? to see the day,
+And Thebes, more hated? Hell is heaven to Thebes.
+For pity send me back, where I may hide,
+In willing night, this ignominious head:
+In hell I shun the public scorn; and then
+They hunt me for their sport, and hoot me as I fly:
+Behold even now they grin at my gored side,
+And chatter at my wounds.
+
+_Tir._ I pity thee:
+Tell but why Thebes is for thy death accurst,
+And I'll unbind the charm.
+
+_Ghost._ O spare my shame!
+
+_Tir._ Are these two innocent?
+
+_Ghost._ Of my death they are.
+But he who holds my crown,--Oh, must I speak!--
+Was doomed to do what nature most abhors.
+The Gods foresaw it; and forbade his being,
+Before he yet was born. I broke their laws,
+And clothed with flesh his pre-existing soul.
+Some kinder power, too weak for destiny,
+Took pity, and endued his new-formed mass
+With temperance, justice, prudence, fortitude,
+And every kingly virtue: But in vain.
+For fate, that sent him hood-winked to the world,
+Performed its work by his mistaking hands.
+Ask'st thou who murdered me? 'twas OEdipus:
+Who stains my bed with incest? OEdipus:
+For whom then are you curst, but OEdipus!
+He comes, the parricide! I cannot bear him:
+My wounds ake at him: Oh, his murderous breath
+Venoms my airy substance! hence with him,
+Banish him; sweep him out; the plague he bears
+Will blast your fields, and mark his way with ruin.
+From Thebes, my throne, my bed, let him be driven:
+Do you forbid him earth, and I'll forbid him heaven.
+                                                    [_Ghost descends._
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS, CREON, HAEMON, &c.
+
+_OEdip._ What's this! methought some pestilential blast
+Struck me, just entering; and some unseen hand
+Struggled to push me backward! tell me why
+My hair stands bristling up, why my flesh trembles?
+You stare at me! then hell has been among ye,
+And some lag fiend yet lingers in the grove.
+
+_Tir._ What omen sawest thou, entering?
+
+_OEdip._ A young stork,
+That bore his aged parent on his back;
+Till weary with the weight, he shook him off,
+And pecked out both his eyes.
+
+_Adr._ Oh, OEdipus!
+
+_Eur._ Oh, wretched OEdipus!
+
+_Tir._ Oh, fatal king!
+
+_OEdip._ What mean these exclamations on my name?
+I thank the gods, no secret thoughts reproach me:
+No: I dare challenge heaven to turn me outward,
+And shake my soul quite empty in your sight.
+Then wonder not that I can bear unmoved
+These fixed regards, and silent threats of eyes.
+A generous fierceness dwells with innocence;
+And conscious virtue is allowed some pride.
+
+_Tir._ Thou knowest not what thou sayest.
+
+_OEdip._ What mutters he? tell me, Eurydice:
+Thou shak'st: Thy soul's a woman;--speak, Adrastus,
+And boldly, as thou met'st my arms in fight:--
+Dar'st thou not speak? why then 'tis bad indeed.--
+Tiresias, thee I summon by thy priesthood,
+Tell me what news from hell; where Laius points,
+And whose the guilty head!
+
+_Tir._ Let me not answer.
+
+_OEdip._ Be dumb then, and betray thy native soil
+To farther plagues.
+
+_Tir._ I dare not name him to thee.
+
+_OEdip._ Dar'st thou converse with hell, and canst thou fear
+An human name?
+
+_Tir._ Urge me no more to tell a thing, which, known,
+Would make thee more unhappy: 'Twill be found,
+Though I am silent.
+
+_OEdip._ Old and obstinate! Then thou thyself
+Art author or accomplice of this murther,
+And shun'st the justice, which by public ban
+Thou hast incurred.
+
+_Tir._ O, if the guilt were mine,
+It were not half so great: Know, wretched man,
+Thou only, thou art guilty! thy own curse
+Falls heavy on thyself.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak this again:
+But speak it to the winds, when they are loudest,
+Or to the raging seas; they'll hear as soon,
+And sooner will believe.
+
+_Tir._ Then hear me, heaven!
+For, blushing, thou hast seen it; hear me, earth,
+Whose hollow womb could not contain this murder,
+But sent it back to light! And thou, hell, hear me!
+Whose own black seal has 'firmed this horrid truth,
+OEdipus murthered Laius!
+
+_OEdip._ Rot the tongue,
+And blasted be the mouth that spoke that lie!
+Thou blind of sight, but thou more blind of soul!
+
+_Tir._ Thy parents thought not so.
+
+_OEdip._ Who were my parents?
+
+_Tir._ Thou shalt know too soon.
+
+_OEdip._ Why seek I truth from thee?
+The smiles of courtiers, and the harlot's tears,
+The tradesman's oaths, and mourning of an heir,
+Are truths to what priests tell.
+O why has priest-hood privilege to lie,
+And yet to be believed!--thy age protects thee.
+
+_Tir._ Thou canst not kill me; 'tis not in thy fate,
+As 'twas to kill thy father, wed thy mother,
+And beget sons, thy brothers[9].
+
+_OEdip._ Riddles, riddles!
+
+_Tir._ Thou art thyself a riddle; a perplext
+Obscure enigma, which when thou unty'st,
+Thou shalt be found and lost.
+
+_OEdip._ Impossible!--
+Adrastus, speak; and, as thou art a king,
+Whose royal word is sacred, clear my fame.
+
+_Adr._ Would I could!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha, wilt thou not? Can that plebeian vice
+Of lying mount to kings? Can they be tainted?
+Then truth is lost on earth.
+
+_Cre._ The cheat's too gross.
+Adrastus is his oracle, and he,
+The pious juggler, but Adrastus' organ.
+
+_OEdip._ 'Tis plain, the priest's suborned to free the prisoner.
+
+_Cre._ And turn the guilt, on you.
+
+_OEdip._ O, honest Creon, how hast thou been belied!
+
+_Eur._ Hear me.
+
+_Cre._ She's bribed to save her lover's life.
+
+_Adr._ If, OEdipus, thou think'st--
+
+_Cre._ Hear him not speak.
+
+_Adr._ Then hear these holy men.
+
+_Cre._ Priests, priests; all bribed, all priests.
+
+_OEdip._ Adrastus, I have found thee:
+The malice of a vanquished man has seized thee!
+
+_Adr._ If envy and not truth--
+
+_OEdip._ I'll hear no more: Away with him.
+                          [HAEMON _takes him off by force:_ CREON _and_
+                           EURYDICE _follow._
+
+[_To_ TIR.] Why stand'st thou here, impostor?
+So old, and yet so wicked,--Lie for gain?
+And gain so short as age can promise thee!
+
+_Tir._ So short a time as I have yet to live,
+Exceeds thy 'pointed hour;--remember Laius!
+No more; if e'er we meet again, 'twill be
+In mutual darkness; we shall feel before us
+To reach each other's hand;--remember Laius!
+                                   [_Exit_ TIRESIAS: _Priests follow._
+
+  OEDIPUS _solus._
+
+Remember Laius! that's the burden still:
+Murther and incest! but to hear them named
+My soul starts in me: The good sentinel
+Stands to her weapons, takes the first alarm
+To guard me from such crimes.--Did I kill Laius?
+Then I walked sleeping, in some frightful dream;
+My soul then stole my body out by night;
+And brought me back to bed ere morning-wake
+It cannot be even this remotest way,
+But some dark hint would justle forward now,
+And goad my memory.--Oh my Jocasta!
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Why are you thus disturbed?
+
+_OEdip._ Why, would'st thou think it?
+No less than murder.
+
+_Joc._ Murder! what of murder?
+
+_OEdip._ Is murder then no more? add parricide,
+And incest; bear not these a frightful sound?
+
+_Joc._ Alas!
+
+_OEdip._ How poor a pity is alas,
+For two such crimes!--was Laius us'd to lie?
+
+_Joc._ Oh no: The most sincere, plain, honest man;
+One who abhorred a lie.
+
+_OEdip._ Then he has got that quality in hell.
+He charges me--but why accuse I him?
+I did not hear him speak it: They accuse me,--
+The priest, Adrastus and Eurydice,--
+Of murdering Laius!--Tell me, while I think on't,
+Has old Tiresias practised long this trade?
+
+_Joc._ What trade?
+
+_OEdip._ Why, this foretelling trade.
+
+_Joc._ For many years.
+
+_OEdip._ Has he before this day accused me?
+
+_Joc._ Never.
+
+_OEdip._ Have you ere this inquired who did this murder?
+
+_Joc._ Often; but still in vain.
+
+_OEdip._ I am satisfied.
+Then 'tis an infant-lye; but one day old.
+The oracle takes place before the priest;
+The blood of Laius was to murder Laius:
+I'm not of Laius' blood.
+
+_Joc._ Even oracles
+Are always doubtful, and are often forged:
+Laius had one, which never was fulfilled,
+Nor ever can be now.
+
+_OEdip._ And what foretold it?
+
+_Joc._ That he should have a son by me, foredoomed
+The murderer of his father: True, indeed,
+A son was born; but, to prevent that crime,
+The wretched infant of a guilty fate,
+Bored through his untried feet, and bound with cords,
+On a bleak mountain naked was exposed:
+The king himself lived many, many years,
+And found a different fate; by robbers murdered,
+Where three ways met: Yet these are oracles,
+And this the faith we owe them.
+
+_OEdip._ Sayest thou, woman?
+By heaven, thou hast awakened somewhat in me,
+That shakes my very soul!
+
+_Joc._ What new disturbance?
+
+_OEdip._ Methought thou said'st--(or do I dream thou said'st it!)
+This murder was on Laius' person done,
+Where three ways meet?
+
+_Joc._ So common fame reports.
+
+_OEdip._ Would it had lied!
+
+_Joc._ Why, good my lord?
+
+_OEdip._ No questions.
+'Tis busy time with me; despatch mine first;
+Say where, where was it done!
+
+_Joc._ Mean you the murder?
+
+_OEdip._ Could'st thou not answer without naming murder?
+
+_Joc._ They say in Phocide; on the verge that parts it
+From Daulia, and from Delphos.
+
+_OEdip._ So!--How long? when happened this?
+
+_Joc._ Some little time before you came to Thebes.
+
+_OEdip._ What will the gods do with me!
+
+_Joc._ What means that thought?
+
+_OEdip._ Something: But 'tis not yet your turn to ask:
+How old was Laius, what his shape, his stature,
+His action, and his mien? quick, quick, your answer!--
+
+_Joc._ Big made he was, and tall: His port was fierce,
+Erect his countenance: Manly majesty
+Sate in his front, and darted from his eyes,
+Commanding all he viewed: His hair just grizzled,
+As in a green old age: Bate but his years,
+You are his picture.
+
+_OEdip._ [_Aside._] Pray heaven he drew me not!--
+Am I his picture?
+
+_Joc._ So I have often told you.
+
+_OEdip._ True, you have;
+Add that unto the rest:--How was the king
+Attended, when he travelled?
+
+_Joc._ By four servants:
+He went out private.
+
+_OEdip._ Well counted still:--
+One 'scaped, I hear; what since became of him?
+
+_Joc._ When he beheld you first, as king in Thebes,
+He kneeled, and trembling begged I would dismiss him:
+He had my leave; and now he lives retired.
+
+_OEdip._ This man must be produced: he must, Jocasta.
+
+_Joc._ He shall--yet have I leave to ask you why?
+
+_OEdip._ Yes, you shall know: For where should I repose
+The anguish of my soul, but in your breast!
+I need not tell you Corinth claims my birth;
+My parents, Polybus and Merope,
+Two royal names; their only child am I.
+It happened once,--'twas at a bridal feast,--
+One, warm with wine, told me I was a foundling,
+Not the king's son; I, stung with this reproach,
+Struck him: My father heard of it: The man
+Was made ask pardon; and the business hushed.
+
+_Joc._ 'Twas somewhat odd.
+
+_OEdip._ And strangely it perplexed me.
+I stole away to Delphos, and implored
+The god, to tell my certain parentage.
+He bade me seek no farther:--'Twas my fate
+To kill my father, and pollute his bed,
+By marrying her who bore me.
+
+_Joc._ Vain, vain oracles!
+
+_OEdip._ But yet they frighted me;
+I looked on Corinth as a place accurst,
+Resolved my destiny should wait in vain,
+And never catch me there.
+
+_Joc._ Too nice a fear.
+
+_OEdip._ Suspend your thoughts; and flatter not too soon.
+Just in the place you named, where three ways met.
+And near that time, five persons I encountered;
+One was too like, (heaven grant it prove not him!)
+Whom you describe for Laius: insolent,
+And fierce they were, as men who lived on spoil.
+I judged them robbers, and by force repelled
+The force they used: In short, four men I slew:
+The fifth upon his knees demanding life,
+My mercy gave it;--Bring me comfort now.
+If I slew Laius, what can be more wretched!
+From Thebes, and you, my curse has banished me:
+From Corinth, fate.
+
+_Joc._ Perplex not thus your mind.
+My husband fell by multitudes opprest;
+So Phorbas said: This band you chanced to meet:
+And murdered not my Laius, but revenged him.
+
+_OEdip._ There's all my hope: Let Phorbas tell me this,
+And I shall live again.--
+To you, good gods, I make my last appeal;
+Or clear my virtue, or my crime reveal:
+If wandering in the maze of fate I run,
+And backward trod the paths I sought to shun,
+Impute my errors to your own decree;
+My hands are guilty, but my heart is free.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PYRACMON _and_ CREON.
+
+_Pyr._ Some business of import, that triumph wears,
+You seem to go with; nor is it hard to guess
+When you are pleased, by a malicious joy,
+Whose red and fiery beams cast through your visage
+A glowing pleasure. Sure you smile revenge,
+And I could gladly hear.
+
+_Cre._ Would'st thou believe!
+This giddy hair-brained king, whom old Tiresias
+Has thunder-struck with heavy accusation,
+Though conscious of no inward guilt, yet fears:
+He fears Jocasta, fears himself, his shadow;
+He fears the multitude; and,--which is worth
+An age of laughter,--out of all mankind,
+He chuses me to be his orator;
+Swears that Adrastus, and the lean-looked prophet[10],
+Are joint conspirators; and wished me to
+Appease the raving Thebans; which I swore
+To do.
+
+_Pyr._ A dangerous undertaking;
+Directly opposite to your own interest.
+
+_Cre._ No, dull Pyracmon; when I left his presence
+With all the wings, with which revenge could aid
+My flight, I gained the midst o'the city;
+There, standing on a pile of dead and dying,
+I to the mad and sickly multitude,
+With interrupting sobs, cry'd out,--O Thebes!
+O wretched Thebes, thy king, thy OEdipus,
+This barbarous stranger, this usurper, monster,
+Is by the oracle, the wise Tiresias,
+Proclaimed the murderer of thy royal Laius:
+Jocasta too, no longer now my sister,
+Is found complotter in the horrid deed.
+Here I renounce all tie of blood and nature,
+For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes!--
+And there I wept, and then the rabble howled.
+And roared, and with a thousand antic mouths
+Gabbled revenge! revenge was all the cry.
+
+_Pyr._ This cannot fail: I see you on the throne:
+And OEdipus cast out.
+
+_Cre._ Then strait came on
+Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd,
+Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join.
+And head the forces while the heat was in them.
+So to the palace I returned, to meet
+The king, and greet him with another story.--
+But see, he enters.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA, _attended._
+
+_OEdip._ Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet
+Intreats he may return, without being asked
+Of aught concerning what we have discovered?
+
+_Joc._ He started when I told him your intent,
+Replying, what he knew of that affair
+Would give no satisfaction to the king;
+Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life,
+To be dismissed from court: He trembled too,
+As if convulsive death had seized upon him,
+And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly,
+That had he been the murderer of Laius,
+Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more.
+
+_OEdip._ By your description, sure as plagues and death
+Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light
+Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace,
+Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius
+Shrinks at his name.
+
+_Joc._ Rather let him go:
+So my poor boding heart would have it be,
+Without a reason.
+
+_OEdip._ Hark, the Thebans come!
+Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me,
+Let Phorbas be retained.
+
+_Joc._ You shall, while I
+Have life, be still obeyed.
+In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments,
+And set the fairest countenance to view;
+Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness
+And inward languishing: That oracle
+Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way,
+Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core,
+Howe'er the beauteous out-side shews so lovely.
+
+_OEdip._ O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess!
+All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come.               [_Exit_ JOC.
+
+_Ghost._ OEdipus!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! again that scream of woe!
+Thrice have I heard, thrice, since the morning dawned,
+It hollowed loud, as if my guardian spirit
+Called from some vaulted mansion, OEdipus!
+Or is it but the work of melancholy?
+When the sun sets, shadows, that shewed at noon
+But small, appear most long and terrible;
+So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,
+Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds;
+Owls, ravens, crickets seem the watch of death;
+Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons;
+Echoes, the very leavings of a voice,
+Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves;
+Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus;
+While we fantastic dreamers heave and puff,
+And sweat with an imagination's weight;
+As if, like Atlas, with these mortal shoulders
+We could sustain the burden of the world.      [CREON _comes forward._
+
+_Cre._ O, sacred sir, my royal lord--
+
+_OEdip._ What now?
+Thou seem'st affrighted at some dreadful action;
+Thy breath comes short, thy darted eyes are fixt
+On me for aid, as if thou wert pursued:
+I sent thee to the Thebans; speak thy wonder:
+Fear not; this palace is a sanctuary,
+The king himself's thy guard.
+
+_Cre._ For me, alas,
+My life's not worth a thought, when weighed with yours!
+But fly, my lord; fly as your life is sacred.
+Your fate is precious to your faithful Creon,
+Who therefore, on his knees, thus prostrate begs
+You would remove from Thebes, that vows your ruin.
+When I but offered at your innocence,
+They gathered stones, and menaced me with death,
+And drove me through the streets, with imprecations
+Against your sacred person, and those traitors
+Who justified your guilt, which cursed Tiresias
+Told, as from heaven, was cause of their destruction.
+
+_OEdip._ Rise, worthy Creon; haste and take our guard,
+Rank them in equal part upon the square,
+Then open every gate of this our palace,
+And let the torrent in. Hark, it comes.                      [_Shout._
+I hear them roar: Begone, and break down all
+The dams, that would oppose their furious passage.
+                                          [_Exit_ CREON _with Guards._
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS, _his sword drawn._
+
+_Adr._ Your city
+Is all in arms, all bent to your destruction:
+I heard but now, where I was close confined,
+A thundering shout, which made my jailors vanish,
+Cry,--fire the palace! where is the cruel king?
+Yet, by the infernal Gods, those awful powers
+That have accused you, which these ears have heard,
+And these eyes seen, I must believe you guiltless;
+For, since I knew the royal OEdipus,
+I have observed in all his acts such truth,
+And god-like clearness, that, to the last gush
+Of blood and spirits, I'll defend his life,
+And here have sworn to perish by his side.
+
+_OEdip._ Be witness, Gods, how near this touches me. [_Embracing him._
+O what, what recompence can glory make?
+
+_Adr._ Defend your innocence, speak like yourself,
+And awe the rebels with your dauntless virtue.
+But hark! the storm comes nearer.
+
+_OEdip._ Let it come.
+The force of majesty is never known
+But in a general wreck: Then, then is seen
+The difference 'twixt a threshold and a throne.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, PYRACMON, ALCANDER, TIRESIAS, _Thebans._
+
+_Alc._ Where, where's this cruel king?--Thebans, behold,
+There stands your plague, the ruin, desolation
+Of this unhappy--speak; shall I kill him?
+Or shall he be cast out to banishment?
+
+_All Theb._ To banishment, away with him!
+
+_OEdip._ Hence, you barbarians, to your slavish distance!
+Fix to the earth your sordid looks; for he,
+Who stirs, dares more than madmen, fiends, or furies.
+Who dares to face me, by the Gods, as well
+May brave the majesty of thundering Jove.
+Did I for this relieve you, when besieged
+By this fierce prince, when cooped within your walls,
+And to the very brink of fate reduced;
+When lean-jawed famine made more havock of you,
+Than does the plague? But I rejoice I know you,
+Know the base stuff that tempered your vile souls:
+The Gods be praised, I needed not your empire,
+Born to a greater, nobler, of my own;
+Nor shall the sceptre of the earth now win me
+To rule such brutes, so barbarous a people.
+
+_Adr._ Methinks, my lord, I see a sad repentance,
+A general consternation spread among them.
+
+_OEdip._ My reign is at an end; yet, ere I finish,
+I'll do a justice that becomes a monarch;
+A monarch, who, in the midst of swords and javelins,
+Dares act as on his throne, encompast round
+With nations for his guard. Alcander, you
+Are nobly born, therefore shall lose your head:         [_Seizes him._
+Here, Haemon, take him: but for this, and this,
+Let cords dispatch them. Hence, away with them!
+
+_Tir._ O sacred prince, pardon distracted Thebes,
+Pardon her, if she acts by heaven's award;
+If that the infernal spirits have declared
+The depth of fate; and if our oracles
+May speak, O do not too severely deal!
+But let thy wretched Thebes at least complain.
+If thou art guilty, heaven will make it known;
+If innocent, then let Tiresias die.
+
+_OEdip._ I take thee at thy word.--Run, haste, and save Alcander:
+I swear, the prophet, or the king shall die.
+Be witness, all you Thebans, of my oath;
+And Phorbas be the umpire.
+
+_Tir._ I submit.                                    [_Trumpet sounds._
+
+_OEdip._ What mean those trumpets?
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON _with_ ALCANDER, _&c._
+
+_Haem._ From your native country,
+Great sir, the famed AEgeon is arrived,
+That renowned favourite of the king your father:
+He comes as an ambassador from Corinth,
+And sues for audience.
+
+_OEdip._ Haste, Haemon, fly, and tell him that I burn
+To embrace him.
+
+_Haem._ The queen, my lord, at present holds him
+In private conference; but behold her here.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA, EURYDICE, _&c._
+
+_Joc._ Hail, happy OEdipus, happiest of kings!
+Henceforth be blest, blest as thou canst desire;
+Sleep without fears the blackest nights away;
+Let furies haunt thy palace, thou shalt sleep
+Secure, thy slumbers shall be soft and gentle
+As infants' dreams.
+
+_OEdip._ What does the soul of all my joys intend?
+And whither would this rapture?
+
+_Joc._ O, I could rave,
+Pull down those lying fanes, and burn that vault,
+From whence resounded those false oracles,
+That robbed my love of rest: If we must pray,
+Rear in the streets bright altars to the Gods,
+Let virgins' hands adorn the sacrifice;
+And not a grey-beard forging priest come near,
+To pry into the bowels of the victim,
+And with his dotage mad the gaping world.
+But see, the oracle that I will trust,
+True as the Gods, and affable as men.
+
+  _Enter_ AEGEON. _Kneels._
+
+_OEdip._ O, to my arms, welcome, my dear AEgeon;
+Ten thousand welcomes! O, my foster-father,
+Welcome as mercy to a man condemned!
+Welcome to me, as, to a sinking mariner,
+The lucky plank that bears him to the shore!
+But speak, O tell me what so mighty joy
+Is this thou bring'st, which so transports Jocasta?
+
+_Joc._ Peace, peace, AEgeon, let Jocasta tell him!--
+O that I could for ever charm, as now,
+My dearest OEdipus! Thy royal father,
+Polybus, king of Corinth, is no more.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! can it be? AEgeon, answer me;
+And speak in short, what my Jocasta's transport
+May over-do.
+
+_AEge._ Since in few words, my royal lord, you ask
+To know the truth,--king Polybus is dead.
+
+_OEdip._ O all you powers, is't possible? what, dead!
+But that the tempest of my joy may rise
+By just degrees, and hit at last the stars,
+Say, how, how died he? ha! by sword, by fire,
+Or water? by assassinates, or poison? speak:
+Or did he languish under some disease?
+
+_AEge._ Of no distemper, of no blast he died,
+But fell like autumn-fruit that mellowed long;
+Even wondered at, because he dropt no sooner.
+Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years;
+Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more:
+Till, like a clock worn out with eating time,
+The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
+
+_OEdip._ O, let me press thee in my youthful arms,
+And smother thy old age in my embraces.
+Yes, Thebans, yes, Jocasta, yes, Adrastus,
+Old Polybus, the king my father's dead!
+Fires shall be kindled in the midst of Thebes;
+In the midst of tumult, wars, and pestilence,
+I will rejoice for Polybus's death.
+Know, be it known to the limits of the world;
+Yet farther, let it pass yon dazzling roof,
+The mansion of the Gods, and strike them deaf
+With everlasting peals of thundering joy.
+
+_Tir._ Fate! Nature! Fortune! what is all this world?
+
+_OEdip._ Now, dotard; now, thou blind old wizard prophet,
+Where are your boding ghosts, your altars now;
+Your birds of knowledge, that in dusky air
+Chatter futurity? And where are now
+Your oracles, that called me parricide?
+Is he not dead? deep laid in his monument?
+And was not I in Thebes when fate attacked him?
+Avaunt, begone, you vizors of the Gods!
+Were I as other sons, now I should weep;
+But, as I am, I have reason to rejoice:
+And will, though his cold shade should rise and blast me.
+O, for this death, let waters break their bounds;
+Rocks, valleys, hills, with splitting Io's ring:
+Io, Jocasta, Io paean sing!
+
+_Tir._ Who would not now conclude a happy end!
+But all fate's turns are swift and unexpected.
+
+_AEge._ Your royal mother Merope, as if
+She had no soul since you forsook the land,
+Waves all the neighbouring princes that adore her.
+
+_OEdip._ Waves all the princes! poor heart! for what?
+O speak.
+
+_AEge._ She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,
+Grows cold, even in the summer of her age,
+And, for your sake, has sworn to die unmarried.
+
+_OEdip._ How! for my sake, die and not marry! O
+My fit returns.
+
+_AEge._ This diamond, with a thousand kisses blest,
+With thousand sighs and wishes for your safety,
+She charged me give you, with the general homage
+Of our Corinthian lords.
+
+_OEdip._ There's magic in it, take it from my sight;
+There's not a beam it darts, but carries hell,
+Hot flashing lust, and necromantic incest:
+Take it from these sick eyes, oh hide it from me!--
+No, my Jocasta, though Thebes cast me out,
+While Merope's alive, I'll ne'er return.
+O, rather let me walk round the wide world
+A beggar, than accept a diadem
+On such abhorred conditions.
+
+_Joc._ You make, my lord, your own unhappiness,
+By these extravagant and needless fears.
+
+_OEdip._ Needless! O, all you Gods! By heaven, I would rather
+Embrue my arms, up to my very shoulders,
+In the dear entrails of the best of fathers,
+Than offer at the execrable act
+Of damned incest: therefore no more of her.
+
+_AEge._ And why, O sacred sir, if subjects may
+Presume to look into their monarch's breast,
+Why should the chaste and spotless Merope
+Infuse such thoughts, as I must blush to name?
+
+_OEdip._ Because the god of Delphos did forewarn me,
+With thundering oracles.
+
+_AEge._ May I entreat to know them?
+
+_OEdip._ Yes, my AEgeon; but the sad remembrance
+Quite blasts my soul: See then the swelling priest!
+Methinks, I have his image now in view!--
+He mounts the tripos in a minute's space,
+His clouded head knocks at the temple-roof;
+While from his mouth,
+These dismal words are heard:
+"Fly, wretch, whom fate has doomed thy father's blood to spill,
+And with preposterous births thy mother's womb to fill!"
+
+_AEge._ Is this the cause,
+Why you refuse the diadem of Corinth?
+
+_OEdip._ The cause! why, is it not a monstrous one!
+
+_AEge._ Great sir, you may return; and though you should
+Enjoy the queen, (which all the Gods forbid!)
+The act would prove no incest.
+
+_OEdip._ How, AEgeon?
+Though I enjoy my mother, not incestuous!
+Thou ravest, and so do I; and these all catch
+My madness; look, they're dead with deep distraction:
+Not incest! what, not incest with my mother?
+
+_AEge._ My lord, queen Merope is not your mother.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! did I hear thee right? not Merope
+My mother!
+
+_AEge._ Nor was Polybus your father.
+
+_OEdip._ Then all my days and nights must now be spent
+In curious search, to find out those dark parents
+Who gave me to the world; speak then, AEgeon.
+By all the Gods celestial and infernal,
+By all the ties of nature, blood and friendship,
+Conceal not from this racked despairing king,
+A point or smallest grain of what thou knowest:
+Speak then, O answer to my doubts directly,
+If royal Polybus was not my father,
+Why was I called his son?
+_AEge._ He from my arms
+Received you, as the fairest gift of nature.
+Not but you were adorned with all the riches
+That empire could bestow, in costly mantles,
+Upon its infant heir.
+
+_OEdip._ But was I made the heir of Corinth's crown,
+Because AEgeon's hands presented me?
+
+_AEge._ By my advice,
+Being past all hope of children,
+He took, embraced, and owned you for his son.
+
+_OEdip._ Perhaps I then am yours; instruct me, sir;
+If it be so, I'll kneel and weep before you.
+With all the obedience of a penitent child,
+Imploring pardon.
+Kill me, if you please;
+I will not writhe my body at the wound,
+But sink upon your feet with a last sigh,
+And ask forgiveness with my dying hands.
+
+_AEge._ O rise, and call not to this aged cheek
+The little blood which should keep warm my heart;
+You are not mine, nor ought I to be blest
+With such a god-like offspring. Sir, I found you
+Upon the mount Cithaeron.
+
+_OEdip._ O speak, go on, the air grows sensible
+Of the great things you utter, and is calm:
+The hurried orbs, with storms so racked of late,
+Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking.
+Cithaeron! speak, the valley of Cithaeron!
+
+_AEge._ Oft-times before, I thither did resort,
+Charmed with the conversation of a man,
+Who led a rural life, and had command
+O'er all the shepherds, who about those vales
+Tended their numerous flocks: in this man's arms,
+I saw you smiling at a fatal dagger,
+Whose point he often offered at your throat;
+But then you smiled, and then he drew it back,
+Then lifted it again,--you smiled again:
+'Till he at last in fury threw it from him,
+And cried aloud,--The Gods forbid thy death.
+Then I rushed in, and, after some discourse,
+To me he did bequeath your innocent life;
+And I, the welcome care to Polybus.
+
+_OEdip._ To whom belongs the master of the shepherds?
+
+_AEge._ His name I knew not, or I have forgot:
+That he was of the family of Laius,
+I well remember.
+
+_OEdip._ And is your friend alive? for if he be,
+I'll buy his presence, though it cost my crown.
+
+_AEge._ Your menial attendants best can tell
+Whether he lives, or not; and who has now
+His place.
+
+_Joc._ Winds, bear me to some barren island,
+Where print of human feet was never seen;
+O'er-grown with weeds of such a monstrous height,
+Their baleful tops are washed with bellying clouds;
+Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent
+For horrors, that would blast the barbarous world!
+
+_OEdip._ If there be any here that knows the person
+Whom he described, I charge him on his life
+To speak; concealment shall be sudden death:
+But he, who brings him forth, shall have reward
+Beyond ambition's lust.
+
+_Tir._ His name is Phorbas:
+Jocasta knows him well; but, if I may
+Advise, rest where you are, and seek no farther.
+
+_OEdip._ Then all goes well, since Phorbas is secured
+By my Jocasta.--Haste, and bring him forth:
+My love, my queen, give orders, Ha! what mean
+These tears, and groans, and strugglings? speak, my fair,
+What are thy troubles?
+
+_Joc._ Yours; and yours are mine:
+Let me conjure you, take the prophet's counsel,
+And let this Phorbas go.
+
+_OEdip._ Not for the world.
+By all the Gods, I'll know my birth, though death
+Attends the search. I have already past
+The middle of the stream; and to return,
+Seems greater labour than to venture over:
+Therefore produce him.
+
+_Joc._ Once more, by the Gods,
+I beg, my OEdipus, my lord, my life,
+My love, my all, my only, utmost hope!
+I beg you, banish Phorbas: O, the Gods,
+I kneel, that you may grant this first request.
+Deny me all things else; but for my sake,
+And as you prize your own eternal quiet,
+Never let Phorbas come into your presence.
+
+_OEdip._ You must be raised, and Phorbas shall appear,
+Though his dread eyes were basilisks. Guards, haste,
+Search the queen's lodgings; find, and force him hither.
+                                                     [_Exeunt Guards._
+
+_Joc._ O, OEdipus, yet send,
+And stop their entrance, ere it be too late;
+Unless you wish to see Jocasta rent
+With furies,--slain out-right with mere distraction!
+Keep from your eyes and mine the dreadful Phorbas.
+Forbear this search, I'll think you more than mortal;
+Will you yet hear me?
+
+_OEdip._ Tempests will be heard,
+And waves will dash, though rocks their basis keep.
+But see, they enter. If thou truly lovest me,
+Either forbear this subject, or retire.
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON, _Guards, with_ PHORBAS.
+
+_Joc._ Prepare then, wretched prince, prepare to hear
+A story, that shall turn thee into stone.
+Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in nature,
+A flaw made through the centre, by some God,
+Through which the groans of ghosts may strike thy ears,
+They would not wound thee, as this story will.
+Hark, hark! a hollow voice calls out aloud,
+Jocasta! Yes, I'll to the royal bed,
+Where first the mysteries of our loves were acted,
+And double-dye it with imperial crimson;
+Tear off this curling hair,
+Be gorged with fire, stab every vital part,
+And, when at last I'm slain, to crown the horror,
+My poor tormented ghost shall cleave the ground,
+To try if hell can yet more deeply wound.                     [_Exit._
+
+_OEdip._ She's gone; and, as she went, methought her eyes
+Grew larger, while a thousand frantic spirits,
+Seething like rising bubbles on the brim,
+Peeped from the watry brink, and glowed upon me.
+I'll seek no more; but hush my genius up,
+That throws me on my fate.--Impossible!
+O wretched man, whose too too busy thoughts
+Hide swifter than the gallopping heaven's round,
+With an eternal hurry of the soul.
+Nay, there's a time when even the rolling year
+Seems to stand still, dead calms are in the ocean,
+When not a breath disturbs the drowzy waves:
+But man, the very monster of the world,
+Is ne'er at rest; the soul for ever wakes.
+Come then, since destiny thus drives us on,
+Let us know the bottom.--Haemon, you I sent;
+Where is that Phorbas?
+
+_Haem._ Here, my royal lord.
+
+_OEdip._ Speak first, AEgeon, say, is this the man?
+
+_AEge._ My lord, it is; Though time has ploughed that face
+With many furrows since I saw it first,
+Yet I'm too well acquainted with the ground,
+Quite to forget it.
+
+_OEdip._ Peace; stand back a while.--
+Come hither, friend; I hear thy name is Phorbas.
+Why dost thou turn thy face? I charge thee answer
+To what I shall enquire: Wert thou not once
+The servant to king Laius here in Thebes?
+
+_Phor._ I was, great sir, his true and faithful servant;
+Born and bred up in court, no foreign slave.
+
+_OEdip._ What office hadst thou? what was thy employment?
+
+_Phor._ He made me lord of all his rural pleasures;
+For much he loved them: oft I entertained him
+With sporting swains, o'er whom I had command.
+
+_OEdip._ Where was thy residence? to what part of the country
+Didst thou most frequently resort?
+
+_Phor._ To mount Cithaeron, and the pleasant vallies
+Which all about lie shadowing its large feet.
+
+_OEdip._ Come forth, AEgeon.--Ha! why start'st thou, Phorbas?
+Forward, I say, and face to face confront him:
+Look wistly on him,--through him, if thou canst!
+And tell me on thy life, say, dost thou know him?
+Didst thou e'er see him? e'er converse with him
+Near mount Cithaeron?
+
+_Phor._ Who, my lord, this man?
+
+_OEdip._ This man, this old, this venerable man:
+Speak, did'st thou ever meet him there?
+
+_Phor._ Where, sacred sir?
+
+_OEdip._ Near mount Cithaeron; answer to the purpose,
+'Tis a king speaks; and royal minutes are
+Of much more worth than thousand vulgar years:
+Did'st thou e'er see this man near mount Cithaeron?
+
+_Phor._ Most sure, my lord, I have seen lines like those
+His visage bears; but know not where, nor when.
+
+_AEge._ Is't possible you should forget your ancient friend?
+There are, perhaps,
+Particulars, which may excite your dead remembrance.
+Have you forgot I took an infant from you,
+Doomed to be murdered in that gloomy vale?
+The swaddling-bands were purple, wrought with gold.
+Have you forgot, too, how you wept, and begged
+That I should breed him up, and ask no more?
+
+_Phor._ Whate'er I begged, thou, like a dotard, speak'st
+More than is requisite; and what of this?
+Why is it mentioned now? And why, O why
+Dost thou betray the secrets of thy friend?
+
+_AEge._ Be not too rash. That infant grew at last
+A king; and here the happy monarch stands.
+
+_Phor._ Ha! whither would'st thou? O what hast thou uttered!
+For what thou hast said, death strike thee dumb for ever!
+
+_OEdip._ Forbear to curse the innocent; and be
+Accurst thyself, thou shifting traitor, villain,
+Damned hypocrite, equivocating slave!
+
+_Phor._ O heavens! wherein, my lord, have I offended?
+
+_OEdip._ Why speak you not according to my charge?
+Bring forth the rack: since mildness cannot win you,
+Torments shall force.
+
+_Phor._ Hold, hold, O dreadful sir!
+You will not rack an innocent old man?
+
+_OEdip._ Speak then.
+
+_Phor._ Alas! What would you have me say?
+
+_OEdip._ Did this old man take from your arms an infant?
+
+_Phor._ He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the gods,
+Phorbas had perished in that very moment.
+
+_OEdip._ Moment! Thou shalt be hours, days, years, a dying.--
+Here, bind his hands; he dallies with my fury:
+But I shall find a way--
+
+_Phor._ My lord, I said
+I gave the infant to him.
+
+_OEdip._ Was he thy own, or given thee by another?
+
+_Phor._ He was not mine, but given me by another.
+
+_OEdip._ Whence? and from whom? what city? of what house?
+
+_Phor._ O, royal sir, I bow me to the ground;
+Would I could sink beneath it! by the gods,
+I do conjure you to inquire no more.
+
+_OEdip._ Furies and hell! Haemon, bring forth the rack,
+Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames:
+He shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off,
+And burnt alive.
+
+_Phor._ O spare my age.
+
+_OEdip._ Rise then, and speak.
+
+_Phor._ Dread sir, I will.
+
+_OEdip._ Who gave that infant to thee?
+
+_Phor._ One of king Laius' family.
+
+_OEdip._ O, you immortal gods!--But say, who was't?
+Which of the family of Laius gave it?
+A servant, or one of the royal blood?
+
+_Phor._ O wretched state! I die, unless I speak;
+And if I speak, most certain death attends me!
+
+_OEdip._ Thou shalt not die. Speak, then, who was it? speak,
+While I have sense to understand the horror;
+For I grow cold.
+
+_Phor._ The queen Jocasta told me,
+It was her son by Laius.
+
+_OEdip._ O you gods!--But did she give it thee?
+
+_Phor._ My lord, she did.
+
+_OEdip._ Wherefore? for what?--O break not yet, my heart;
+Though my eyes burst, no matter:--wilt thou tell me,
+Or must I ask for ever? for what end,
+Why gave she thee her child?
+
+_Phor._ To murder it.
+
+_OEdip._ O more than savage! murder her own bowels,
+Without a cause!
+
+_Phor._ There was a dreadful one,
+Which had foretold, that most unhappy son
+Should kill his father, and enjoy his mother.
+
+_OEdip._ But one thing more.
+Jocasta told me, thou wert by the chariot
+When the old king was slain: Speak, I conjure thee,
+For I shall never ask thee aught again,--
+What was the number of the assassinates?
+
+_Phor._ The dreadful deed was acted but by one;
+And sure that one had much of your resemblance.
+
+_OEdip._ 'Tis well! I thank you, gods! 'tis wondrous well!
+Daggers, and poison! O there is no need
+For my dispatch: And you, you merciless powers,
+Hoard up your thunder-stones; keep, keep your bolts,
+For crimes of little note.                                   [_Falls._
+
+_Adr._ Help, Haemon, help, and bow him gently forward;
+Chafe, chafe his temples: How the mighty spirits,
+Half-strangled with the damp his sorrows raised,
+Struggle for vent! But see, he breathes again,
+And vigorous nature breaks through opposition.--
+How fares my royal friend?
+
+_OEdip._ The worse for you.
+O barbarous men, and oh the hated light,
+Why did you force me back, to curse the day;
+To curse my friends; to blast with this dark breath
+The yet untainted earth and circling air?
+To raise new plagues, and call new vengeance down,
+Why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me?
+Methinks there's not a hand that grasps this hell,
+But should run up like flax all blazing fire.
+Stand from this spot, I wish you as my friends,
+And come not near me, lest the gaping earth
+Swallow you too.--Lo, I am gone already.
+                                   [_Draws, and claps his Sword to his
+                                    Breast, which_ ADRASTUS _strikes
+                                    away with his Foot._
+
+_Adr._ You shall no more be trusted with your life:--
+Creon, Alcander, Haemon, help to hold him.
+
+_OEdip._ Cruel Adrastus! wilt thou, Haemon, too?
+Are these the obligations of my friends?
+O worse than worst of my most barbarous foes!
+Dear, dear Adrastus, look with half an eye
+On my unheard of woes, and judge thyself,
+If it be fit that such a wretch should live!
+O, by these melting eyes, unused to weep,
+With all the low submissions of a slave,
+I do conjure thee, give my horrors way!
+Talk not of life, for that will make me rave:
+As well thou may'st advise a tortured wretch,
+All mangled o'er from head to foot with wounds,
+And his bones broke, to wait a better day.
+
+_Adr._ My lord, you ask me things impossible;
+And I with justice should be thought your foe,
+To leave you in this tempest of your soul.
+
+_Tir._ Though banished Thebes, in Corinth you may reign;
+The infernal powers themselves exact no more:
+Calm then your rage, and once more seek the gods.
+
+_OEdip._ I'll have no more to do with gods, nor men;
+Hence, from my arms, avaunt. Enjoy thy mother!
+What, violate, with bestial appetite,
+The sacred veils that wrapt thee yet unborn!
+This is not to be borne! Hence; off, I say!
+For they, who let my vengeance, make themselves
+Accomplices in my most horrid guilt.
+
+_Adr._ Let it be so; we'll fence heav'n's fury from you,
+And suffer all together. This, perhaps,
+When ruin comes, may help to break your fall.
+
+_OEdip._ O that, as oft I have at Athens seen
+The stage arise, and the big clouds descend;
+So now, in very deed I might behold
+The pond'rous earth, and all yon marble roof
+Meet, like the hand of Jove, and crush mankind!
+For all the elements, and all the powers
+Celestial, nay, terrestrial, and infernal,
+Conspire the wreck of out-cast OEdipus!
+Fall darkness then, and everlasting night
+Shadow the globe; may the sun never dawn;
+The silver moon be blotted from her orb;
+And for an universal rout of nature
+Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,
+May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,
+But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark;
+That jars may rise, and wrath divine be hurled,
+Which may to atoms shake the solid world!                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.--SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CREON, ALCANDER, _and_ PYRACMON.
+
+_Creon._ Thebes is at length my own; and all my wishes,
+Which sure were great as royalty e'er formed,
+Fortune and my auspicious stars have crowned.
+O diadem, thou centre of ambition,
+Where all its different lines are reconciled,
+As if thou wert the burning glass of glory!
+
+_Pyr._ Might I be counsellor, I would intreat you
+To cool a little, sir; find out Eurydice;
+And, with the resolution of a man
+Marked out for greatness, give the fatal choice
+Of death or marriage.
+
+_Alc._ Survey cursed OEdipus,
+As one who, though unfortunate, beloved,
+Thought innocent, and therefore much lamented
+By all the Thebans: you must mark him dead,
+Since nothing but his death, not banishment,
+Can give assurance to your doubtful reign.
+
+_Cre._ Well have you done, to snatch me from the storm
+Of racking transport, where the little streams
+Of love, revenge, and all the under passions,
+As waters are by sucking whirlpools drawn,
+Were quite devoured in the vast gulph of empire.
+Therefore, Pyracmon, as you boldly urged,
+Eurydice shall die, or be my bride.
+Alcander, summon to their master's aid
+My menial servants, and all those whom change
+Of state, and hope of the new monarch's favour,
+Can win to take our part: Away.--What now?           [_Exit_ ALCANDER.
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON.
+
+When Haemon weeps, without the help of ghosts
+I may foretel there is a fatal cause.
+
+_Haem._ Is't possible you should be ignorant
+Of what has happened to the desperate king?
+
+_Cre._ I know no more but that he was conducted
+Into his closet, where I saw him fling
+His trembling body on the royal bed;
+All left him there, at his desire, alone;
+But sure no ill, unless he died with grief,
+Could happen, for you bore his sword away.
+
+_Haem._ I did; and, having locked the door, I stood;
+And through a chink I found, not only heard,
+But saw him, when he thought no eye beheld him.
+At first, deep sighs heaved from his woful heart
+Murmurs, and groans that shook the outward rooms.
+And art thou still alive, O wretch! he cried;
+Then groaned again, as if his sorrowful soul
+Had cracked the strings of life, and burst away.
+
+_Cre._ I weep to hear; how then should I have grieved,
+Had I beheld this wondrous heap of sorrow!
+But, to the fatal period.
+
+_Haem._ Thrice he struck,
+With all his force, his hollow groaning breast,
+And thus, with outcries, to himself complained:--
+But thou canst weep then, and thou think'st 'tis well,
+These bubbles of the shallowest emptiest sorrow,
+Which children vent for toys, and women rain
+For any trifle their fond hearts are set on;
+Yet these thou think'st are ample satisfaction
+For bloodiest murder, and for burning lust:
+No, parricide! if thou must weep, weep blood;
+Weep eyes, instead of tears:--O, by the gods!
+'Tis greatly thought, he cried, and fits my woes.
+Which said, he smiled revengefully, and leapt
+Upon the floor; thence gazing at the skies,
+His eye-balls fiery red, and glowing vengeance,--
+Gods I accuse you not, though I no more
+Will view your heaven, till, with more durable glasses,
+The mighty soul's immortal perspectives,
+I find your dazzling beings: Take, he cried,
+Take, eyes, your last, your fatal farewel-view.
+Then with a groan, that seemed the call of death,
+With horrid force lifting his impious hands,
+He snatched, he tore, from forth their bloody orbs,
+The balls of sight, and dashed them on the ground.
+
+_Cre._ A master-piece of horror; new and dreadful!
+
+_Haem._ I ran to succour him; but, oh! too late;
+For he had plucked the remnant strings away.
+What then remains, but that I find Tiresias,
+Who, with his wisdom, may allay those furies,
+That haunt his gloomy soul?                                   [_Exit._
+
+_Cre._ Heaven will reward
+Thy care, most honest, faithful,--foolish Haemon!
+But see, Alcander enters, well attended.
+
+  _Enter_ ALCANDER, _attended._
+
+I see thou hast been diligent.
+
+_Alc._ Nothing these,
+For number, to the crowds that soon will follow;
+Be resolute,
+And call your utmost fury to revenge.
+
+_Cre._ Ha! thou hast given
+The alarm to cruelty; and never may
+These eyes be closed, till they behold Adrastus
+Stretched at the feet of false Eurydice.
+But see, they are here! retire a while, and mark.
+
+  _Enter_ ADRASTUS, _and_ EURYDICE, _attended._
+
+_Adr._ Alas, Eurydice, what fond rash man,
+What inconsiderate and ambitious fool,
+That shall hereafter read the fate of OEdipus,
+Will dare, with his frail hand, to grasp a sceptre?
+
+_Eur._ 'Tis true, a crown seems dreadful, and I wish
+That you and I, more lowly placed, might pass
+Our softer hours in humble cells away:
+Not but I love you to that infinite height,
+I could (O wondrous proof of fiercest love!)
+Be greatly wretched in a court with you.
+
+_Adr._ Take then this most loved innocence away;
+Fly from tumultuous Thebes, from blood and murder,
+Fly from the author of all villainies,
+Rapes, death, and treason, from that fury Creon:
+Vouchsafe that I, o'er-joyed, may bear you hence,
+And at your feet present the crown of Argos.
+                               [CREON _and attendants come up to him._
+
+_Cre._ I have o'er-heard thy black design, Adrastus,
+And therefore, as a traitor to this state,
+Death ought to be thy lot: Let it suffice
+That Thebes surveys thee as a prince; abuse not
+Her proffered mercy, but retire betimes,
+Lest she repent, and hasten on thy doom.
+
+_Adr._ Think not, most abject, most abhorred of men,
+Adrastus will vouchsafe to answer thee;--
+Thebans to you I justify my love:
+I have addrest my prayer to this fair princess;
+But, if I ever meant a violence,
+Or thought to ravish, as that traitor did,
+What humblest adorations could not win,
+Brand me, you gods, blot me with foul dishonour,
+And let men curse me by the name of Creon!
+
+_Eur._ Hear me, O Thebans, if you dread the wrath
+Of her whom fate ordained to be your queen;
+Hear me, and dare not, as you prize your lives,
+To take the part of that rebellious traitor.
+By the decree of royal OEdipus,
+By queen Jocasta's order, by what's more,
+My own dear vows of everlasting love,
+I here resign, to prince Adrastus' arms,
+All that the world can make me mistress of.
+
+_Cre._ O perjured woman!
+Draw all; and when I give the word, fall on.--
+Traitor, resign the princess, or this moment
+Expect, with all those most unfortunate wretches,
+Upon this spot straight to be hewn in pieces.
+
+_Adr._ No, villain, no;
+With twice those odds of men,
+I doubt not in this cause to vanquish thee.--
+Captain remember to your care I give
+My love; ten thousand, thousand times more clear,
+Than life or liberty.
+
+_Cre._ Fall on, Alcander.--
+Pyracmon you and I must wheel about
+For nobler game, the princess.
+
+_Adr._ Ah, traitor, dost thou shun me?
+Follow, follow,
+My brave companions! see, the cowards fly!
+                                    [_Exeunt fighting:_ CREON'S _Party
+                                     beaten off by_ ADRASTUS.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS.
+
+_OEdip._ O, 'tis too little this; thy loss of sight,
+What has it done? I shall be gazed at now
+The more; be pointed at, There goes the monster!
+Nor have I hid my horrors from myself;
+For, though corporeal light be lost for ever,
+The bright reflecting soul, through glaring optics,
+Presents in larger size her black ideas,
+Doubling the bloody prospect of my crimes;
+Holds fancy down, and makes her act again,
+With wife and mother:--Tortures, hell and furies!
+Ha! now the baleful offspring's brought to light!
+In horrid form, they rank themselves before me;--
+What shall I call this medley of creation?
+Here one, with all the obedience of a son,
+Borrowing Jocasta's look, kneels at my feet,
+And calls me father; there, a sturdy boy,
+Resembling Laius just as when I killed him,
+Bears up, and with his cold hand grasping mine,
+Cries out, how fares my brother OEdipus?
+What, sons and brothers! Sisters and daughters too!
+Fly all, begone, fly from my whirling brain!
+Hence, incest, murder! hence, you ghastly figures!
+O Gods! Gods, answer; is there any mean?
+Let me go mad, or die.
+
+  _Enter_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Where, where is this most wretched of mankind,
+This stately image of imperial sorrow,
+Whose story told, whose very name but mentioned,
+Would cool the rage of fevers, and unlock
+The hand of lust from the pale virgin's hair,
+And throw the ravisher before her feet?
+
+_OEdip._ By all my fears, I think Jocasta's voice!--
+Hence fly; begone! O thou far worse than worst
+Of damning charmers! O abhorred, loathed creature!
+Fly, by the gods, or by the fiends, I charge thee,
+Far as the East, West, North, or South of heaven,
+But think not thou shalt ever enter there;
+The golden gates are barred with adamant,
+'Gainst thee, and me; and the celestial guards,
+Still as we rise, will dash our spirits down.
+
+_Joc._ O wretched pair! O greatly wretched we!
+Two worlds of woe!
+
+_OEdip._ Art thou not gone then? ha!
+How darest thou stand the fury of the gods?
+Or comest thou in the grave to reap new pleasures?
+
+_Joc._ Talk on, till thou mak'st mad my rolling brain;
+Groan still more death; and may those dismal sources
+Still bubble on, and pour forth blood and tears.
+Methinks, at such a meeting, heaven stands still;
+The sea, nor ebbs, nor flows; this mole-hill earth
+Is heaved no more; the busy emmets cease:
+Yet hear me on--
+
+_OEdip._ Speak, then, and blast my soul.
+
+_Joc._ O, my loved lord, though I resolve a ruin,
+To match my crimes; by all my miseries,
+'Tis horror, worse than thousand thousand deaths,
+To send me hence without a kind farewell.
+
+_OEdip._ Gods, how she shakes me!--stay thee, O Jocasta!
+Speak something ere thou goest for ever from me!
+
+_Joc._ 'Tis woman's weakness, that I would be pitied;
+Pardon me then, O greatest, though most wretched.
+Of all thy kind! My soul is on the brink,
+And sees the boiling furnace just beneath:
+Do not thou push me off, and I will go,
+With such a willingness, as if that heaven
+With all its glory glowed for my reception.
+
+_OEdip._ O, in my heart I feel the pangs of nature;
+It works with kindness o'er: give, give me way!
+I feel a melting here, a tenderness,
+Too mighty for the anger of the gods!
+Direct me to thy knees: yet, oh forbear,
+Lest the dead embers should revive.
+Stand off, and at just distance
+Let me groan my horrors!--here
+On the earth, here blow my utmost gale;
+Here sob my sorrows, till I burst with sighing;
+Here gasp and languish out my wounded soul.
+
+_Joc._ In spite of all those crimes the cruel gods
+Can charge me with, I know my innocence;
+Know yours. 'Tis fate alone that makes us wretched,
+For you are still my husband.
+
+_OEdip._ Swear I am,
+And I'll believe thee; steal into thy arms,
+Renew endearments, think them no pollutions,
+But chaste as spirits' joys. Gently I'll come,
+Thus weeping blind, like dewy night, upon thee,
+And fold thee softly in my arms to slumber.
+                                     [_The Ghost of_ LAIUS _ascends by
+                                      degrees, pointing at_ JOCASTA.
+
+_Joc._ Begone, my lord! Alas, what are we doing?
+Fly from my arms! Whirlwinds, seas, continents,
+And worlds, divide us! O, thrice happy thou,
+Who hast no use of eyes; for here's a sight
+Would turn the melting face of mercy's self
+To a wild fury.
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! what seest thou there?
+
+_Joc._ The spirit of my husband! O, the gods!
+How wan he looks!
+
+_OEdip._ Thou ravest; thy husband's here.
+
+_Joc._ There, there he mounts
+In circling fire among the blushing clouds!
+And see, he waves Jocasta from the world!
+
+_Ghost._ Jocasta, OEdipus.                     [_Vanish with thunder._
+
+_OEdip._ What wouldst thou have?
+Thou knowest I cannot come to thee, detained
+In darkness here, and kept from means of death.
+I've heard a spirit's force is wonderful;
+At whose approach, when starting from his dungeon,
+The earth does shake, and the old ocean groans,
+Rocks are removed, and towers are thundered down;
+And walls of brass, and gates of adamant
+Are passable as air, and fleet like winds.
+
+_Joc._ Was that a raven's croak, or my son's voice?
+No matter which; I'll to the grave and hide me.
+Earth open, or I'll tear thy bowels up.
+Hark! he goes on, and blabs the deed of incest.
+
+_OEdip._ Strike then, imperial ghost; dash all at once
+This house of clay into a thousand pieces;
+That my poor lingering soul may take her flight
+To your immortal dwellings.
+
+_Joc._ Haste thee, then,
+Or I shall be before thee. See,--thou canst not see!
+Then I will tell thee that my wings are on.
+I'll mount, I'll fly, and with a port divine
+Glide all along the gaudy milky soil,
+To find my Laius out; ask every god
+In his bright palace, if he knows my Laius,
+My murdered Laius!
+
+_OEdip._ Ha! how's this, Jocasta?
+Nay, if thy brain be sick, then thou art happy.
+_Joc._ Ha! will you not? shall I not find him out?
+Will you not show him? are my tears despised?
+Why, then I'll thunder, yes, I will be mad,
+And fright you with my cries. Yes, cruel gods,
+Though vultures, eagles, dragons tear my heart,
+I'll snatch celestial flames, fire all your dwellings,
+Melt down your golden roofs, and make your doors
+Of crystal fly from off their diamond hinges;
+Drive you all out from your ambrosial hives,
+To swarm like bees about the field of heaven.
+This will I do, unless you show me Laius,
+My dear, my murdered lord. O Laius! Laius! Laius!     [_Exit_ JOCASTA.
+
+_OEdip._ Excellent grief! why, this is as it should be!
+No mourning can be suitable to crimes
+Like ours, but what death makes, or madness forms.
+I could have wished, methought, for sight again,
+To mark the gallantry of her distraction;
+Her blazing eyes darting the wandering stars,
+To have seen her mouth the heavens, and mate the gods,
+While with her thundering voice she menaced high,
+And every accent twanged with smarting sorrow;
+But what's all this to thee? thou, coward, yet
+Art living, canst not, wilt not find the road
+To the great palace of magnificent Death;
+Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors,
+Which, day and night, are still unbarred for all.
+                    [_Clashing of Swords. Drums and Trumpets without._
+Hark! 'tis the noise of clashing swords! the sound
+Comes near;--O, that a battle would come o'er me!
+If I but grasp a sword, or wrest a dagger,
+I'll make a ruin with the first that falls.
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON, _with Guards._
+
+_Haem._ Seize him, and bear him to the western tower.--
+Pardon me, sacred sir; I am informed
+That Creon has designs upon your life:
+Forgive me, then, if, to preserve you from him,
+I order your confinement.
+
+_OEdip._ Slaves, unhand me!--
+I think thou hast a sword;--'twas the wrong side.
+Yet, cruel Haemon, think not I will live;
+He, that could tear his eyes out, sure can find
+Some desperate way to stifle this cursed breath:
+Or if I starve!--but that's a lingering fate;
+Or if I leave my brains upon the wall!--
+The airy soul can easily o'er-shoot
+Those bounds, with which thou striv'st to pale her in.
+Yes, I will perish in despite of thee;
+And, by the rage that stirs me, if I meet thee
+In the other world, I'll curse thee for this usage.      [_Exit._
+
+_Haem._ Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,
+Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,
+These feuds within; while I without extinguish,
+Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;
+That brand which sets our city in a flame.
+
+_Tir._ Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period
+To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,
+Shall straight be done.--Lead, Manto, to the tower.
+                                       [_Exeunt_ TIRESIAS _and_ MANTO.
+
+_Haem._ Follow me all, and help to part this fray,   [_Trumpets again._
+Or fall together in the bloody broil.                       [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ CREON _with_ EURYDICE; PYRACMON, _and his party, giving
+  Ground to_ ADRASTUS.
+
+_Cre._ Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!
+Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.
+
+_Adr._ What would'st thou, hell-hound?
+
+_Cre._ See this brandished dagger;
+Forego the advantage which thy arms have won.
+Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart
+Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest,
+I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast,
+This instrument of my revenge.
+
+_Adr._ Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!
+
+_Cre._ Give order, then, that on this instant, now,
+This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.
+
+_Adr._ Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;
+Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.
+
+_Eur._ Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!
+Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!
+Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,
+After so bravely having fought his cause,
+To perish by the hand of this base villain?
+Why rather rush you not at once together
+All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,
+Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;
+Nor let my death affright you.
+
+_Cre._ Die first thyself, then.
+
+_Adr._ O, I charge thee hold!--
+Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend
+That disobeys.--See, art thou now appeased?      [_Exeunt Attendants._
+Or is there aught else yet remains to do,
+That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood
+With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!
+
+_Cre._ Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.
+
+_Eur._ Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save
+Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,
+Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;
+With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.
+For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;
+His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword;
+Lest I be ravished after thou art slain.
+
+_Adr._ Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do?
+
+_Cre._ Do what thou wilt, when she is dead; my soldiers
+With numbers will o'erpower thee. Is't thy wish
+Eurydice should fall before thee?
+
+_Adr._ Traitor, no;
+Better that thou, and I, and all mankind,
+Should be no more.
+
+_Cre._ Then cast thy sword away,
+And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike.
+
+_Adr._ Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause.
+My father, when he blest me, gave me this:
+My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge;
+If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee.--
+Yet love now charms it from me; which in all
+The hazards of my life I never lost.
+'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust;
+Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal.          [_Gives it._
+
+_Cre._ Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall:
+Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance.
+Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee.--
+Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch
+The king; hang Haemon up, for he is loyal,
+And will oppose me.--Come, sir, are you ready?
+
+_Adr._ Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare.
+
+_Eur._ Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.
+
+_Adr._ Off, madam, or we perish both; behold
+I'm not unarmed, my poniard's in my hand;
+Therefore, away.
+
+_Eur._ I'll guard your life with mine.
+
+_Cre._ Die both, then; there is now no time for dallying.
+                                                    [_Kills_ EURYDICE.
+
+_Eur._ Ah, prince, farewell! farewell, my dear Adrastus!      [_Dies._
+
+_Adr._ Unheard-of monster! eldest-born of hell!
+Down, to thy primitive flame.                          [_Stabs_ CREON.
+
+_Cre._ Help, soldiers, help;
+Revenge me.
+
+_Adr._ More; yet more; a thousand wounds!
+I'll stamp thee still, thus, to the gaping furies.
+                            [ADRASTUS _falls, killed by the soldiers._
+
+  _Enter_ HAEMON, _Guards, with_ ALCANDER _and_ PYRACMON _bound; the
+   Assassins are driven off._
+
+O Haemon, I am slain; nor need I name
+The inhuman author of all villainies;
+There he lies gasping.
+
+_Cre._ If I must plunge in flames,
+Burn first my arm; base instrument, unfit
+To act the dictates of my daring mind;
+Burn, burn for ever, O weak substitute
+Of that, the god, ambition.                                   [_Dies._
+
+_Adr._ She's gone;--O deadly marksman, in the heart!
+Yet in the pangs of death she grasps my hand;
+Her lips too tremble, as if she would speak
+Her last farewell.--O, OEdipus, thy fall
+Is great; and nobly now thou goest attended!
+They talk of heroes, and celestial beauties,
+And wondrous pleasures in the other world;
+Let me but find her there, I ask no more.                     [_Dies._
+
+  _Enter a Captain to_ HAEMON; _with_ TERESIAS _and_ MANTO.
+
+_Cap._ O, sir, the queen Jocasta, swift and wild,
+As a robbed tygress bounding o'er the woods,
+Has acted murders that amaze mankind;
+In twisted gold I saw her daughters hang
+On the bed-royal, and her little sons
+Stabbed through the breasts upon the bloody pillows.
+
+_Haem._ Relentless heavens! is then the fate of Laius
+Never to be atoned? How sacred ought
+Kings' lives be held, when but the death of one
+Demands an empire's blood for expiation!
+But see! the furious mad Jocasta's here.
+
+  _Scene draws, and discovers_ JOCASTA _held by her women and stabbed
+  in many places of her Bosom, her Hair dishevelled, her Children
+  slain upon the Bed._
+
+Was ever yet a sight of so much horror
+And pity brought to view!
+
+_Joc._ Ah, cruel women!
+Will you not let me take my last farewell
+Of those dear babes? O let me run, and seal
+My melting soul upon their bubbling wounds!
+I'll print upon their coral mouths such kisses,
+As shall recal their wandering spirits home.
+Let me go, let me go, or I will tear you piece-meal.
+Help, Haemon, help;
+Help, OEdipus; help, Gods; Jocasta dies.
+
+  _Enter_ OEDIPUS _above._
+
+_OEdip._ I've found a window, and I thank the gods
+'Tis quite unbarred; sure, by the distant noise,
+The height will fit my fatal purpose well.
+
+_Joc._ What hoa, my OEdipus! see where he stands!
+His groping ghost is lodged upon a tower,
+Nor can it find the road. Mount, mount, my soul;
+I'll wrap thy shivering spirit in lambent flames; and so we'll sail.--
+But see! we're landed on the happy coast;
+And all the golden strands are covered o'er
+With glorious gods, that come to try our cause.
+Jove, Jove, whose majesty now sinks me down,
+He, who himself burns in unlawful fires,
+Shall judge, and shall acquit us. O, 'tis done;
+'Tis fixt by fate, upon record divine;
+And OEdipus shall now be ever mine.                           [_Dies._
+
+_OEdip._ Speak, Haemon; what has fate been doing there?
+What dreadful deed has mad Jocasta done?
+
+_Haem._ The queen herself, and all your wretched offspring,
+Are by her fury slain.
+
+_OEdip._ By all my woes,
+She has outdone me in revenge and murder,
+And I should envy her the sad applause:
+But oh, my children! oh, what have they done?
+This was not like the mercy of the heavens,
+To set her madness on such cruelty:
+This stirs me more than all my sufferings,
+And with my last breath I must call you tyrants.
+
+_Haem._ What mean you, sir?
+
+_OEdip._ Jocasta! lo, I come.
+O Laius, Labdacus, and all you spirits
+Of the Cadmean race, prepare to meet me,
+All weeping ranged along the gloomy shore;
+Extend your arms to embrace me, for I come.
+May all the gods, too, from their battlements,
+Behold and wonder at a mortal's daring;
+And, when I knock the goal of dreadful death,
+Shout and applaud me with a clap of thunder.
+Once more, thus winged by horrid fate, I come,
+Swift as a falling meteor; lo, I fly,
+And thus go downwards to the darker sky.
+                         [_Thunder. He flings himself from the Window:
+                          The Thebans gather about his Body._
+
+_Haem._ O prophet, OEdipus is now no more!
+O cursed effect of the most deep despair!
+
+_Tir._ Cease your complaints, and bear his body hence;
+The dreadful sight will daunt the drooping Thebans,
+Whom heaven decrees to raise with peace and glory.
+Yet, by these terrible examples warned,
+The sacred Fury thus alarms the world:--
+Let none, though ne'er so virtuous, great, and high,
+Be judged entirely blest before they die.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Imitated from the commencement of the plague in the first book of
+   the _Iliad_.
+
+2. The story of the Sphinx is generally known: She was a monster, who
+   delighted in putting a riddle to the Thebans, and slaying each poor
+   dull Boeotian, who could not interpret it. OEdipus guessed the
+   enigma, on which the monster destroyed herself for shame. Thus he
+   attained the throne of Thebes, and the bed of Jocasta.
+
+3. To _dare a lark_, is to fly a hawk, or present some other object of
+   fear, to engage the bird's attention, and prevent it from taking
+   wing, while the fowler draws his net:
+
+     Farewell, nobility; let his grace go forward,
+     And dare us with his cap, like larks.
+                                   _Henry VIII._ Act III. Scene II.
+
+4. The carelessness of OEdipus about the fate of his predecessor is
+   very unnatural; but to such expedients dramatists are often
+   reduced, to communicate to their audience what must have been known
+   to the persons of the drama.
+
+5. _Start_ is here, and in p. 136, used for _started_, being borrowed
+   from _sterte_, the old perfect of the verb.
+
+6. It is a common idea, that falling stars, as they are called, are
+   converted into a sort of jelly. "Among the rest, I had often the
+   opportunity to see the seeming shooting of the stars from place to
+   place, and sometimes they appeared as if falling to the ground,
+   where I once or twice found a white jelly-like matter among the
+   grass, which I imagined to be distilled from them; and hence
+   foolishly conjectured, that the stars themselves must certainly
+   consist of a like substance."
+
+7. Serpens, serpentem vorans, fit draco. Peccata, peccatis
+   superaddita, monstra fiunt. _Hieroglyphica animalium, per
+   Archibaldum Simsonum Dalkethensis Ecclesiae pastorem, p. 95._
+
+8. The idea of this sacred grove seems to be taken from that of
+   Colonus near Athens, dedicated to the Eumenides, which gives name
+   to Sophocles's second tragedy. Seneca describes the scene of the
+   incantation in the following lines:
+
+       _Est procul ab urbe lucus illicibus niger
+     Dircaea circa vallis irriguae loca.
+     Cupressus altis exerens silvis caput
+     Virente semper alligat trunco nemus;
+     Curvosque tendit quercus et putres situ
+     Annosa ramos: hujus abrupit latus
+     Edax vetustas: illa jam fessa cadens
+     Radice, fulta pendet aliena trabe.
+     Amara baccas laurus; et tiliae leves
+     Et Paphia myrtus; et per immensum mare
+     Motura remos alnus; et Phoebo obvia
+     Enode Zephyris pinus opponens latus.
+     Medio stat ingens arbor, atque umbra gravi
+     Silvas minores urget; et magno ambitu
+     Diffusa ramos, una defendit nemus.
+     Tristis sub illa, lucis et Phoebi inscius
+     Restagnat humor, frigore aeterno rigens.
+     Limosa pigrum circuit fontem palus.
+                                   Actus Tertius. Scena prima._
+
+   This diffuse account of the different kinds of forest trees, which
+   composed the enchanted grove, is very inartificially put into the
+   mouth of Creon, who, notwithstanding the horrible message which he
+   has to deliver to OEdipus from the ghost, finds time to solace the
+   king with this long description of a place, which he doubtless knew
+   as well as Creon himself. Dryden, on the contrary, has, with great
+   address, rendered the description necessary, by the violence
+   committed within the sacred precinct, and turned it, not upon
+   minute and rhetorical detail, but upon the general awful properties
+   of this consecrated ground. Lucan's fine description of the
+   Massyllian forest, and that of the enchanted grove in Tasso, have
+   been both consulted by our author.]
+
+9. The quarrel betwixt OEdipus and the prophet, who announces his
+   guilt, is imitated from a similar scene in the OEdipus Tyrannus.
+
+10. Borrowed from Shakespeare;
+
+     And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.
+                                   _Richard II._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  What Sophocles could undertake alone,
+  Our poets found a work for more than one;
+  And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,
+  With all their force, to draw the ponderous mass from Greece;
+  A weight that bent even Seneca's strong muse,
+  And which Corneille's shoulders did refuse.
+  So hard it is the Athenian harp to string!
+  So much two consuls yield to one just king.
+  Terror and pity this whole poem sway;
+  The mightiest machines that can mount a play.
+  How heavy will those vulgar souls be found,
+  Whom two such engines cannot move from ground!
+  When Greece and Rome have smiled upon this birth,
+  You can but damn for one poor spot of earth;
+  And when your children find your judgment such,
+  They'll scorn their sires, and wish themselves born Dutch;
+  Each haughty poet will infer with ease,
+  How much his wit must under-write to please.
+  As some strong churl would, brandishing, advance
+  The monumental sword that conquered France;
+  So you, by judging this, your judgment teach,
+  Thus far you like, that is, thus far you reach.
+  Since then the vote of full two thousand years
+  Has crowned this plot, and all the dead are theirs,
+  Think it a debt you pay, not alms you give,
+  And, in your own defence, let this play live.
+  Think them not vain, when Sophocles is shown,
+  To praise his worth they humbly doubt their own.
+  Yet as weak states each other's power assure,
+  Weak poets by conjunction are secure.
+  Their treat is what your palates relish most,
+  Charm! song! and show! a murder and a ghost!
+  We know not what you can desire or hope,
+  To please you more, but burning of a Pope.[1]
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The burning a Pope in effigy, was a ceremony performed upon the
+   anniversary of queen Elizabeth's coronation. When parties ran high
+   betwixt the courtiers and opposition, in the latter part of Charles
+   the II. reign, these anti-papal solemnities were conducted by the
+   latter, with great state and expence, and employed as engines to
+   excite the popular resentment against the duke of York, and his
+   religion. The following curious description of one of these
+   tumultuary processions, in 1679, was extracted by Ralph, from a
+   very scarce pamphlet; it is the ceremony referred to in the
+   epilogue; and it shall be given at length, as the subject is
+   frequently alluded to by Dryden.
+
+   [Illustration:
+    The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinals, Jesuits,
+      Friars, &c.
+    Through the CITY OF LONDON November 17.th 1679.
+
+    London Published January 1808 by William Miller, Albemarle Street.
+    Dryden Works to face Vol 6th page 223]
+
+   "On the said 17th of November, 1679, the bells, generally, about
+   the town, began to ring at three o'clock in the morning. At the
+   approach of the evening, (all things being in readiness) the solemn
+   procession began, setting forth from Moregate, and so passed, first
+   to Aldgate, and thence through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal
+   Exchange, through Cheapside, and so to Temple-bar in the ensuing
+   order, viz.
+
+   "1. Came six whifflers, to clear the way, in pioneer caps, and red
+       waistcoats.
+
+   "2. A bellman ringing, and with a loud (but doleful) voice, crying
+       out all the way, remember Justice Godfrey.
+
+   "3. A dead body, representing justice Godfrey, in a decent black
+       habit, carried before a jesuit, in black, on horse-back, in
+       like manner as he was carried by the assassins to Primrose
+       Hill.
+
+   "4. Next after Sir Edmonbury, so mounted, came a priest in a
+       surplice, with a cope embroidered with dead bones, skeletons,
+       skulls, and the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all
+       those who should murder protestants; and proclaiming it
+       meritorious.
+
+   "5. Then a priest in black alone, with a great silver cross.
+
+   "6. Four carmelites, in white and black habits.
+
+   "7. Four grey-friars, in the proper habits of their order.
+
+   "8. Six jesuits, with bloody daggers.
+
+   "9. A concert of wind music.
+
+   "10. Four bishops, in purple, and lawn sleeves, with a golden
+       crosier on their breast, and crosier-staves in their hands.
+
+   "11. Four other bishops, in _Pontificalibus_, with surplices, and
+       rich embroidered copes, and golden mitres on their heads.
+
+   "12. Six cardinals, in scarlet robes and caps.
+
+   "13. The Pope's doctor, _i.e._ Wakeman,[a] with jesuits-powder in
+       one hand, and an urinal in the other.
+
+   "14. Two priests in surplices, with two golden crosses.
+
+   "Lastly, The Pope, in a lofty, glorious pageant, representing a
+   chair of state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and
+   fringed, and bedecked with golden balls and crosses: At his feet a
+   cushion of state, and two boys in surplices with white silk
+   banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers with an incense pot
+   before them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed in a splendid
+   scarlet gown, lined through with ermin, and richly daubed with gold
+   and silver lace; on his head a triple crown of gold, and a glorious
+   collar of gold and precious stones, St Peter's keys, a number of
+   beads, agnus deis, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his
+   holiness's privy counsellor, the degraded Seraphim, (_anglice_ the
+   devil,) frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and oft
+   times instructing him aloud to destroy his majesty, to forge a
+   protestant plot, and to fire the city again, to which purpose he
+   held an infernal torch in his hand.
+
+   "The whole procession was attended with 150 flambeaux and lights,
+   by order; but so many more came in volunteers, as made up some
+   thousands.
+
+   "Never were the balconies, windows, and houses more numerously
+   lined, or the streets closer throng'd with multitudes of people,
+   all expressing their abhorrence of Popery, with continual shouts
+   and exclamations; so that 'tis modestly computed, that, in the
+   whole progress, there could not be fewer than two hundred thousand
+   spectators.
+
+   "Thus with a slow, and solemn state, they proceeded to Temple Bar;
+   where with innumerable swarms, the houses seemed to be converted
+   into heaps of men, and women, and children, for whose diversion
+   there were provided great variety of excellent fireworks.
+
+   "Temple Bar being, since its rebuilding, adorned with four stately
+   statues, viz. those of Queen Elizabeth and King James, on the
+   inward, or eastern side, fronting the city; and those of King
+   Charles the I. of blessed memory, and our present gracious
+   sovereign, (whom God, in mercy to these nations, long preserve!) on
+   the outside, facing towards Westminster; and the statue of Queen
+   Elizabeth in regard to the day, having on a crown of gilded laurel,
+   and in her hand a golden shield, with this motto inscribed: _The
+   Protestant Religion, and Magna Charta_, and flambeaux placed before
+   it. The Pope being brought up near thereunto, the following song,
+   alluding to the posture of those statues, was sung in parts,
+   between one representing the English Cardinal (_Howard_)[b] and
+   others acting the people:
+
+           CARDINAL NORFOLK.
+
+     From York to London town we come,
+       To talk of Popish ire,
+     To reconcile you all to Rome,
+       And prevent Smithfield fire.
+
+           PLEBEIANS.
+
+     Cease, cease, thou Norfolk Cardinal,
+       See yonder stands Queen Bess;
+     Who sav'd our souls from Popish thrall:
+       O Queen Bess, Queen Bess, Queen Bess!
+
+     Your Popish plot, and Smithfield threat,
+       We do not fear at all;
+     For lo! beneath Queen Bess's feet,
+       You fall, you fall, you fall.
+
+     "'Tis true, our King's on t'other side,
+       A looking tow'rds Whitehall:
+     But could we bring him round about;
+       He'd counterplot you all.
+
+     "Then down with James, and set up Charles,
+       On good Queen Bess's side;
+     That all true Commons, Lords, and Earls,
+       May wish him a fruitfull bride."
+
+     Now God preserve great Charles our King,
+       And eke all honest men;
+     And traitors all to justice bring:
+       Amen, Amen, Amen.
+
+   "Then having entertained the thronging spectators for some time,
+   with the ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared, just
+   over against the inner temple gate, his holiness, after some
+   compliments and reluctancies, was decently toppled from all his
+   grandeur, into the impartial flames; the crafty devil leaving his
+   infallibilityship in the lurch, and laughing as heartily at his
+   deserved ignominious end, as subtle jesuits do at the ruin of
+   bigotted Lay Catholics, whom themselves have drawn in; or, as
+   credulous Coleman's abettors did, when, with pretences of a
+   reprieve at last gasp, they had made him vomit up his soul with a
+   lye, and sealed his dangerous chops with a halter. This justice was
+   attended with a prodigious shout, that might be heard far beyond
+   Somerset-house; and 'twas believed the echo, by continued
+   reverberations, before it ceased, reached _Scotland_, (the Duke was
+   then there;) France, and even Rome, itself, damping them all with a
+   dreadfull astonishment."
+
+   From a very rare broadside, in the collection made by Narcissus
+   Luttrell.
+
+   Footnotes:
+   a. Sir George Wakeman was physician to the queen, and a catholic.
+      He was tried for the memorable Popish plot and acquitted, the
+      credit of the witnesses being now blasted, by the dying
+      declarations of those who suffered.
+
+   b. Philip, the 3d son of Henry Earl of Arundel, and brother to the
+      Duke of Norfolk, created a Cardinal in 1675. He was a second
+      cousin of Lady Elizabeth Howard, afterwards the wife of our
+      poet.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA:
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                        TRUTH FOUND TOO LATE.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+             _Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,
+             Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus._
+                                   HOR.
+
+
+
+
+                        TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
+
+
+The story of Troilus and Cressida was one of the more modern fables,
+engrafted, during the dark ages, on "the tale of Troy divine."
+Chaucer, who made it the subject of a long and somewhat dull poem,
+professes to have derived his facts from an author of the middle ages,
+called Lollius, to whom he often refers, and who he states to have
+written in Latin. Tyrwhitt disputes the existence of this personage,
+and supposes Chaucer's original to have been the _Philostrato dell'
+amorose fatiche de Troilo,_ a work of Boccacio. But Chaucer was never
+reluctant in acknowledging obligations to his contemporaries, when
+such really existed; and Mr Tyrwhitt's opinion seems to be
+successfully combated by Mr Godwin, in his "Life of Chaucer." The
+subject, whencesoever derived, was deemed by Shakespeare worthy of the
+stage; and his tragedy, of Troilus and Cressida, contains so many
+scenes of distinguished excellence, that it could have been wished our
+author had mentioned it with more veneration. In truth, even the
+partiality of an editor must admit, that on this occasion, the modern
+improvements of Dryden shew to very little advantage beside the
+venerable structure to which they have been attached. The arrangement
+of the plot is, indeed, more artificially modelled; but the preceding
+age, during which the infidelity of Cressida was proverbially current,
+could as little have endured a catastrophe turning upon the discovery
+of her innocence, as one which should have exhibited Helen chaste, or
+Hector a coward. In Dryden's time, the prejudice against this
+unfortunate female was probably forgotten, as her history had become
+less popular. There appears, however, something too nice and
+fastidious in the critical rule, which exacts that the hero and
+heroine of the drama shall be models of virtuous perfection. In the
+most interesting of the ancient plays we find this limitation
+neglected, with great success; and it would have been more natural to
+have brought about the catastrophe on the plan of Shakespeare and
+Chaucer, than by the forced mistake in which Dryden's lovers are
+involved, and the stale expedient of Cressida's killing herself, to
+evince her innocence. For the superior order, and regard to the unity
+of place, with which Dryden has new-modelled the scenes and entries,
+he must be allowed the full praise which he claims in the preface.
+
+In the dialogue, considered as distinct from the plot, Dryden appears
+not to have availed himself fully of the treasures of his predecessor.
+He has pitilessly retrenched the whole scene, in the 3d act, between
+Ulysses and Achilles, full of the purest and most admirable moral
+precept, expressed in the most poetical and dignified language[1].
+Probably this omission arose from Dryden's desire to simplify the
+plot, by leaving out the intrigues of the Grecian chiefs, and limiting
+the interest to the amours of Troilus and Cressida. But he could not
+be insensible to the merit of this scene, though he has supplied it by
+one far inferior, in which Ulysses is introduced, using gross flattery
+to the buffoon Thersites. In the latter part of the play, Dryden has
+successfully exerted his own inventive powers. The quarrelling scene
+between Hector and Troilus is very impressive, and no bad imitation of
+that betwixt Brutus and Cassius, with which Dryden seems to have been
+so much charmed, and which he has repeatedly striven to emulate. The
+parting of Hector and Andromache contains some affecting passages,
+some of which may be traced back to Homer; although the pathos, upon
+the whole, is far inferior to that of the noted scene in the Iliad,
+and destitute of the noble simplicity of the Grecian bard.
+
+Mr Godwin has justly remarked, that the delicacy of Chaucer's ancient
+tale has suffered even in the hands of Shakespeare; but in those of
+Dryden it has undergone a far deeper deterioration. Whatever is coarse
+and naked in Shakespeare, has been dilated into ribaldry by the poet
+laureat of Charles the second; and the character of Pandarus, in
+particular, is so grossly heightened, as to disgrace even the obliging
+class to whom that unfortunate procurer has bequeathed his name. So
+far as this play is to be considered as an alteration of Shakespeare,
+I fear it must be allowed, that our author has suppressed some of his
+finest poetry, and exaggerated some of his worst faults.
+
+Troilus and Cressida was published in 1679.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. I need only recall to the reader's remembrance the following
+   beautiful passage, inculcating the unabating energy necessary to
+   maintain, in the race of life, the ground which has been already
+   gained.
+
+     _Ulys._ Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
+     Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
+     A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
+     These scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
+     As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
+     As done: Perseverance, dear my lord,
+     Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang
+     Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
+     In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
+     For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
+     Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
+     For emulation hath a thousand sons,
+     That one by one pursue: If you give way,
+     Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
+     Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
+     And leave you hindmost.--
+     Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,
+     Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
+     O'er run and trampled on: Then what they do in present,
+     Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:
+     For time is like a fashionable host,
+     That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;
+     And with his arms out stretch'd, as he would fly,
+     Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles,
+     And Farewel goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek
+     Remuneration for the thing it was;
+     For beauty, wit,
+     High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
+     Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
+     To envious and calumniating time.
+     One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,--
+     That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds,
+     Though they are made and moulded of things past;
+     And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
+     More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
+     The present eye praises the present object:
+     Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
+     That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
+     Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
+     Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
+     And still it might, and yet it may again,
+     If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
+     And case thy reputation in thy tent;
+     Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
+     Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves,
+     And drave great Mars to faction.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                               ROBERT,
+
+                        EARL OF SUNDERLAND[1],
+
+          PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE, ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S
+                  MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY-COUNCIL, &C.
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+Since I cannot promise you much of poetry in my play, it is but
+reasonable that I should secure you from any part of it in my
+dedication. And indeed I cannot better distinguish the exactness of
+your taste from that of other men, than by the plainness and sincerity
+of my address. I must keep my hyperboles in reserve for men of other
+understandings. An hungry appetite after praise, and a strong
+digestion of it, will bear the grossness of that diet; but one of so
+critical a judgment as your lordship, who can set the bounds of just
+and proper in every subject, would give me small encouragement for so
+bold an undertaking. I more than suspect, my lord, that you would not
+do common justice to yourself; and, therefore, were I to give that
+character of you, which I think you truly merit, I would make my
+appeal from your lordship to the reader, and would justify myself from
+flattery by the public voice, whatever protestation you might enter to
+the contrary. But I find I am to take other measures with your
+lordship; I am to stand upon my guard with you, and to approach you as
+warily as Horace did Augustus:
+
+  _Cui male si palpere, recalcitrat undique tutus._
+
+An ill-timed, or an extravagant commendation, would not pass upon you;
+but you would keep off such a dedicator at arms-end, and send him back
+with his encomiums to this lord, or that lady, who stood in need of
+such trifling merchandise. You see, my lord, what an awe you have upon
+me, when I dare not offer you that incense which would be acceptable
+to other patrons; but am forced to curb myself from ascribing to you
+those honours, which even an enemy could not deny you. Yet I must
+confess, I never practised that virtue of moderation (which is
+properly your character) with so much reluctancy as now: for it
+hinders me from being true to my own knowledge, in not witnessing your
+worth, and deprives me of the only means which I had left, to shew the
+world that true honour and uninterested respect which I have always
+paid you. I would say somewhat, if it were possible which might
+distinguish that veneration I have for you, from the flatteries of
+those who adore your fortune. But the eminence of your condition, in
+this particular, is my unhappiness; for it renders whatever I would
+say suspected. Professions of service, submissions, and attendance,
+are the practice of all men to the great; and commonly they, who have
+the least sincerity, perform them best; as they, who are least engaged
+in love, have their tongues the freest to counterfeit a passion. For
+my own part, I never could shake off the rustic bashfulness which
+hangs upon my nature; but, valuing myself at as little as I am worth,
+have been afraid to render even the common duties of respect to those
+who are in power. The ceremonious visits, which are generally paid on
+such occasions, are not my talent. They may be real even in courtiers,
+but they appear with such a face of interest, that a modest man would
+think himself in danger of having his sincerity mistaken for his
+design. My congratulations keep their distance, and pass no farther
+than my heart. There it is that I have all the joy imaginable, when I
+see true worth rewarded, and virtue uppermost in the world.
+
+If, therefore, there were one to whom I had the honour to be known;
+and to know him so perfectly, that I could say, without flattery, he
+had all the depth of understanding that was requisite in an able
+statesman, and all that honesty which commonly is wanting; that he was
+brave without vanity, and knowing without positiveness; that he was
+loyal to his prince, and a lover of his country; that his principles
+were full of moderation, and all his counsels such as tended to heal,
+and not to widen, the breaches of the nation: that in all his
+conversation there appeared a native candour, and a desire of doing
+good in all his actions: if such an one, whom I have described, were
+at the helm; if he had risen by his merits, and were chosen out in the
+necessity and pressures of affairs, to remedy our confusions by the
+seasonableness of his advice, and to put a stop to our ruin, when we
+were just rolling downward to the precipice; I should then
+congratulate the age in which I live, for the common safety; I should
+not despair of the republic, though Hannibal were at the gates; I
+should send up my vows for the success of such an action, as Virgil
+did, on the like occasion, for his patron, when he was raising up his
+country from the desolations of a civil war:
+
+  _Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo
+  Ne, superi, prohibete._
+
+I know not whither I am running, in this extacy which is now upon me:
+I am almost ready to re-assume the ancient rights of poetry; to point
+out, and prophecy the man, who was born for no less an undertaking,
+and whom posterity shall bless for its accomplishment. Methinks, I am
+already taking fire from such a character, and making room for him,
+under a borrowed name, amongst the heroes of an epic poem. Neither
+could mine, or some more happy genius, want encouragement under such a
+patron:
+
+  _Pollio amat nostram, quamvis sit rustica, musam._
+
+But these are considerations afar off, my lord: the former part of the
+prophecy must be first accomplished; the quiet of the nation must be
+secured; and a mutual trust, betwixt prince and people, be renewed;
+and then this great and good man will have leisure for the ornaments
+of peace; and make our language as much indebted to his care, as the
+French is to the memory of their famous Richelieu[2]. You know, my
+lord, how low he laid the foundations of so great a work; that he
+began it with a grammar and a dictionary; without which all those
+remarks and observations, which have since been made, had been
+performed to as little purpose, as it would be to consider the
+furniture of the rooms, before the contrivance of the house. Propriety
+must first be stated, ere any measures of elegance can be taken.
+Neither is one Vaugelas sufficient for such a work[3]. It was the
+employment of the whole academy for many years; for the perfect
+knowledge of a tongue was never attained by any single person. The
+court, the college, and the town, must be joined in it. And as our
+English is a composition of the dead and living tongues, there is
+required a perfect knowledge, not only of the Greek and Latin, but of
+the old German, the French, and the Italian; and, to help all these, a
+conversation with those authors of our own, who have written with the
+fewest faults in prose and verse. But how barbarously we yet write and
+speak, your lordship knows, and I am sufficiently sensible in my own
+English. For I am often put to a stand, in considering whether what I
+write be the idiom of the tongue, or false grammar, and nonsense
+couched beneath that specious name of Anglicism; and have no other way
+to clear my doubts, but by translating my English into Latin, and
+thereby trying what sense the words will bear in a more stable
+language. I am desirous, if it were possible, that we might all write
+with the same certainty of words, and purity of phrase, to which the
+Italians first arrived, and after them the French; at least that we
+might advance so far, as our tongue is capable of such a standard. It
+would mortify an Englishman to consider, that from the time of Boccace
+and of Petrarch, the Italian has varied very little; and that the
+English of Chaucer, their contemporary, is not to be understood
+without the help of an old dictionary. But their Goth and Vandal had
+the fortune to be grafted on a Roman stock; ours has the disadvantage
+to be founded on the Dutch[4]. We are full of monosyllables, and those
+clogged with consonants, and our pronunciation is effeminate; all
+which are enemies to a sounding language. It is true, that to supply
+our poverty, we have trafficked with our neighbour nations; by which
+means we abound as much in words, as Amsterdam does in religions; but
+to order them, and make them useful after their admission, is the
+difficulty. A greater progress has been made in this, since his
+majesty's return, than, perhaps, since the conquest to his time. But
+the better part of the work remains unfinished; and that which has
+been done already, since it has only been in the practice of some few
+writers, must be digested into rules and method, before it can be
+profitable to the general. Will your lordship give me leave to speak
+out at last? and to acquaint the world, that from your encouragement
+and patronage, we may one day expect to speak and write a language,
+worthy of the English wit, and which foreigners may not disdain to
+learn? Your birth, your education, your natural endowments, the former
+employments which you have had abroad, and that which, to the joy of
+good men you now exercise at home, seem all to conspire to this
+design: the genius of the nation seems to call you out as it were by
+name, to polish and adorn your native language, and to take from it
+the reproach of its barbarity. It is upon this encouragement that I
+have adventured on the following critique, which I humbly present you,
+together with the play; in which, though I have not had the leisure,
+nor indeed the encouragement, to proceed to the principal subject of
+it, which is the words and thoughts that are suitable to tragedy; yet
+the whole discourse has a tendency that way, and is preliminary to it.
+In what I have already done, I doubt not but I have contradicted some
+of my former opinions, in my loose essays of the like nature; but of
+this, I dare affirm, that it is the fruit of my riper age and
+experience, and that self-love, or envy have no part in it. The
+application to English authors is my own, and therein, perhaps, I may
+have erred unknowingly; but the foundation of the rules is reason, and
+the authority of those living critics who have had the honour to be
+known to you abroad, as well as of the ancients, who are not less of
+your acquaintance. Whatsoever it be, I submit it to your lordship's
+judgment, from which I never will appeal, unless it be to your good
+nature, and your candour. If you can allow an hour of leisure to the
+perusal of it, I shall be fortunate that I could so long entertain
+you; if not, I shall at least have the satisfaction to know, that your
+time was more usefully employed upon the public. I am,
+
+  MY LORD,
+
+    Your Lordship's most Obedient,
+      Humble Servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. This was the famous Earl of Sunderland, who, being a Tory under the
+   reign of Charles, a Papist in that of his successor, and a Whig in
+   that of William, was a favourite minister of all these monarchs. He
+   was a man of eminent abilities; and our author shews a high opinion
+   of his taste, by abstaining from the gross flattery, which was then
+   the fashionable stile of dedication.
+
+2. Alluding to the institution of an academy for fixing the language,
+   often proposed about this period.
+
+3. Author of a treatise on the French language.
+
+4. Dutch is here used generally for the High Dutch or German.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+The poet AEschylus was held in the same veneration by the Athenians of
+after-ages, as Shakespeare is by us; and Longinus has judged, in
+favour of him, that he had a noble boldness of expression, and that
+his imaginations were lofty and heroic; but, on the other side,
+Quintilian affirms, that he was daring to extravagance. It is certain,
+that he affected pompous words, and that his sense was obscured by
+figures; notwithstanding these imperfections, the value of his
+writings after his decease was such, that his countrymen ordained an
+equal reward to those poets, who could alter his plays to be acted on
+the theatre, with those whose productions were wholly new, and of
+their own. The case is not the same in England; though the
+difficulties of altering are greater, and our reverence for
+Shakespeare much more just, than that of the Grecians for AEschylus. In
+the age of that poet, the Greek tongue was arrived to its full
+perfection; they had then amongst them an exact standard of writing
+and of speaking: the English language is not capable of such a
+certainty; and we are at present so far from it, that we are wanting
+in the very foundation of it, a perfect grammar. Yet it must be
+allowed to the present age, that the tongue in general is so much
+refined since Shakespeare's time, that many of his words, and more of
+his phrases, are scarce intelligible. And of those which we
+understand, some are ungrammatical, others coarse; and his whole style
+is so pestered with figurative expressions, that it is as affected as
+it is obscure. It is true, that in his latter plays he had worn off
+somewhat of the rust; but the tragedy, which I have undertaken to
+correct, was in all probability one of his first endeavours on the
+stage.
+
+The original story was written by one Lollius a Lombard, in Latin
+verse, and translated by Chaucer into English; intended, I suppose, a
+satire on the inconstancy of women: I find nothing of it among the
+ancients; not so much as the name Cressida once mentioned.
+Shakespeare, (as I hinted) in the apprenticeship of his writing,
+modelled it into that play, which is now called by the name of
+"Troilus and Cressida," but so lamely is it left to us, that it is not
+divided into acts; which fault I ascribe to the actors who printed it
+after Shakespeare's death; and that too so carelessly, that a more
+uncorrected copy I never saw. For the play itself, the author seems to
+have begun it with some fire; the characters of Pandarus and
+Thersites, are promising enough; but as if he grew weary of his task,
+after an entrance or two, he lets them fall: and the latter part of
+the tragedy is nothing but a confusion of drums and trumpets,
+excursions and alarms. The chief persons, who give name to the
+tragedy, are left alive; Cressida is false, and is not punished. Yet,
+after all, because the play was Shakespeare's, and that there appeared
+in some places of it the admirable genius of the author, I undertook
+to remove that heap of rubbish under which many excellent thoughts lay
+wholly buried. Accordingly, I new modelled the plot, threw out many
+unnecessary persons, improved those characters which were begun and
+left unfinished, as Hector, Troilus, Pandarus, and Thersites, and
+added that of Andromache. After this, I made, with no small trouble,
+an order and connection of all the scenes; removing them from the
+places where they were inartificially set; and, though it was
+impossible to keep them all unbroken, because the scene must be
+sometimes in the city and sometimes in the camp, yet I have so ordered
+them, that there is a coherence of them with one another, and a
+dependence on the main design; no leaping from Troy to the Grecian
+tents, and thence back again, in the same act, but a due proportion of
+time allowed for every motion. I need not say that I have refined his
+language, which before was obsolete; but I am willing to acknowledge,
+that as I have often drawn his English nearer to our times, so I have
+sometimes conformed my own to his; and consequently, the language is
+not altogether so pure as it is significant. The scenes of Pandarus
+and Cressida, of Troilus and Pandarus, of Andromache with Hector and
+the Trojans, in the second act, are wholly new; together with that of
+Nestor and Ulysses with Thersites, and that of Thersites with Ajax and
+Achilles.  I will not weary my reader with the scenes which are added
+of Pandarus and the lovers, in the third, and those of Thersites,
+which are wholly altered; but I cannot omit the last scene in it,
+which is almost half the act, betwixt Troilus and Hector. The occasion
+of raising it was hinted to me by Mr Betterton; the contrivance and
+working of it was my own. They who think to do me an injury, by
+saying, that it is an imitation of the scene betwixt Brutus and
+Cassius, do me an honour, by supposing I could imitate the
+incomparable Shakespeare; but let me add, that if Shakespeare's scene,
+or that faulty copy of it in "Amintor and Melantius," had never been,
+yet Euripides had furnished me with an excellent example in his
+"Iphigenia," between Agamemnon and Menelaus; and from thence, indeed,
+the last turn of it is borrowed. The occasion which Shakespeare,
+Euripides, and Fletcher, have all taken, is the same,--grounded upon
+friendship; and the quarrel of two virtuous men, raised by natural
+degrees to the extremity of passion, is conducted in all three, to the
+declination of the same passion, and concludes with a warm renewing of
+their friendship. But the particular ground-work which Shakespeare has
+taken, is incomparably the best; because he has not only chosen two of
+the greatest heroes of their age, but has likewise interested the
+liberty of Rome, and their own honours, who were the redeemers of it,
+in this debate. And if he has made Brutus, who was naturally a patient
+man, to fly into excess at first, let it be remembered in his defence,
+that, just before, he has received the news of Portia's death; whom
+the poet, on purpose neglecting a little chronology, supposes to have
+died before Brutus, only to give him an occasion of being more easily
+exasperated. Add to this, that the injury he had received from
+Cassius, had long been brooding in his mind; and that a melancholy
+man, upon consideration of an affront, especially from a friend, would
+be more eager in his passion, than he who had given it, though
+naturally more choleric. Euripides, whom I have followed, has raised
+the quarrel betwixt two brothers, who were friends. The foundation of
+the scene was this: The Grecians were wind-bound at the port of Aulis,
+and the oracle had said, that they could not sail, unless Agamemnon
+delivered up his daughter to be sacrificed: he refuses; his brother
+Menelaus urges the public safety; the father defends himself by
+arguments of natural affection, and hereupon they quarrel. Agamemnon
+is at last convinced, and promises to deliver up Iphigenia, but so
+passionately laments his loss, that Menelaus is grieved to have been
+the occasion of it, and, by a return of kindness, offers to intercede
+for him with the Grecians, that his daughter might not be sacrificed.
+But my friend Mr Rymer has so largely, and with so much judgment,
+described this scene, in comparing it with that of Melantius and
+Amintor, that it is superfluous to say more of it; I only named the
+heads of it, that any reasonable man might judge it was from thence I
+modelled my scene betwixt Troilus and Hector. I will conclude my
+reflections on it, with a passage of Longinus, concerning Plato's
+imitation of Homer: "We ought not to regard a good imitation as a
+theft, but as a beautiful idea of him who undertakes to imitate, by
+forming himself on the invention and the work of another man; for he
+enters into the lists like a new wrestler, to dispute the prize with
+the former champion. This sort of emulation, says Hesiod, is
+honourable, [Greek: Agathe d' eris esti Brotoisin]--when we combat for
+victory with a hero, and are not without glory even in our overthrow.
+Those great men, whom we propose to ourselves as patterns of our
+imitation, serve us as a torch, which is lifted up before us, to
+enlighten our passage, and often elevate our thoughts as high as the
+conception we have of our author's genius."
+
+I have been so tedious in three acts, that I shall contract myself in
+the two last. The beginning scenes of the fourth act are either added
+or changed wholly by me; the middle of it is Shakespeare altered, and
+mingled with my own; three or four of the last scenes are altogether
+new. And the whole fifth act, both the plot and the writing, are my
+own additions.
+
+But having written so much for imitation of what is excellent, in that
+part of the preface which related only to myself, methinks it would
+neither be unprofitable nor unpleasant to inquire how far we ought to
+imitate our own poets, Shakespeare and Fletcher, in their tragedies;
+and this will occasion another inquiry, how those two writers differ
+between themselves: but since neither of these questions can be
+solved, unless some measures be first taken, by which we may be
+enabled to judge truly of their writings, I shall endeavour, as
+briefly as I can, to discover the grounds and reason of all criticism,
+applying them in this place only to Tragedy. Aristotle with his
+interpreters, and Horace, and Longinus, are the authors to whom I owe
+my lights; and what part soever of my own plays, or of this, which no
+mending could make regular, shall fall under the condemnation of such
+judges, it would be impudence in me to defend. I think it no shame to
+retract my errors, and am well pleased to suffer in the cause, if the
+art may be improved at my expence: I therefore proceed to
+
+                 THE GROUNDS OF CRITICISM IN TRAGEDY.
+
+Tragedy is thus defined by Aristotle (omitting what I thought
+unnecessary in his definition). It is an imitation of one entire,
+great, and probable action; not told, but represented; which, by
+moving in us fear and pity, is conducive to the purging of those two
+passions in our minds. More largely thus: Tragedy describes or paints
+an action, which action must have all the properties above named.
+First, it must be one or single; that is, it must not be a history of
+one man's life, suppose of Alexander the Great, or Julius Caesar, but
+one single action of theirs. This condemns all Shakespeare's
+historical plays, which are rather chronicles represented, than
+tragedies; and all double action of plays. As, to avoid a satire upon
+others, I will make bold with my own "Marriage A-la-mode," where there
+are manifestly two actions, not depending on one another; but in
+"OEdipus" there cannot properly be said to be two actions, because the
+love of Adrastus and Eurydice has a necessary dependence on the
+principal design into which it is woven. The natural reason of this
+rule is plain; for two different independent actions distract the
+attention and concernment of the audience, and consequently destroy
+the intention of the poet; if his business be to move terror and pity,
+and one of his actions he comical, the other tragical, the former will
+divert the people, and utterly make void his greater purpose.
+Therefore, as in perspective, so in tragedy, there must be a point of
+sight in which all the lines terminate; otherwise the eye wanders, and
+the work is false. This was the practice of the Grecian stage. But
+Terence made an innovation in the Roman: all his plays have double
+actions; for it was his custom to translate two Greek comedies, and to
+weave them into one of his, yet so, that both their actions were
+comical, and one was principal, the other but secondary or
+subservient. And this has obtained on the English stage, to give us
+the pleasure of variety.
+
+As the action ought to be one, it ought, as such, to have order in it;
+that is, to have a natural beginning, a middle, and an end. A natural
+beginning, says Aristotle, is that which could not necessarily have
+been placed after another thing; and so of the rest. This
+consideration will arraign all plays after the new model of Spanish
+plots, where accident is heaped upon accident, and that which is first
+might as reasonably be last; an inconvenience not to be remedied, but
+by making one accident naturally produce another, otherwise it is a
+farce and not a play. Of this nature is the "Slighted Maid;" where
+there is no scene in the first act, which might not by as good reason
+be in the fifth. And if the action ought to be one, the tragedy ought
+likewise to conclude with the action of it. Thus in "Mustapha," the
+play should naturally have ended with the death of Zanger, and not
+have given us the grace-cup after dinner, of Solyman's divorce from
+Roxolana.
+
+The following properties of the action are so easy, that they need not
+my explaining. It ought to be great, and to consist of great persons,
+to distinguish it from comedy, where the action is trivial, and the
+persons of inferior rank. The last quality of the action is, that it
+ought to be probable, as well as admirable and great. It is not
+necessary that there should be historical truth in it; but always
+necessary that there should be a likeness of truth, something that is
+more than barely possible; _probable_ being that which succeeds, or
+happens, oftener than it misses. To invent therefore a probability and
+to make it wonderful, is the most difficult undertaking in the art of
+poetry; for that, which is not wonderful, is not great; and that,
+which is not probable, will not delight a reasonable audience. This
+action, thus described, must be represented and not told, to
+distinguish dramatic poetry from epic: but I hasten to the end or
+scope of tragedy, which is, to rectify or purge our passions, fear and
+pity.
+
+To instruct delightfully is the general end of all poetry. Philosophy
+instructs, but it performs its work by precept; which is not
+delightful, or not so delightful as example. To purge the passions by
+example, is therefore the particular instruction which belongs to
+tragedy. Rapin, a judicious critic, has observed from Aristotle, that
+pride and want of commiseration are the most predominant vices in
+mankind; therefore, to cure us of these two, the inventors of tragedy
+have chosen to work upon two other passions, which are, fear and pity.
+We are wrought to fear, by their setting before our eyes some terrible
+example of misfortune, which happened to persons of the highest
+quality; for such an action demonstrates to us, that no condition is
+privileged from the turns of fortune; this must of necessity cause
+terror in us, and consequently abate our pride. But when we see that
+the most virtuous, as well as the greatest, are not exempt from such
+misfortunes, that consideration moves pity in us, and insensibly works
+us to be helpful to, and tender over, the distressed; which is the
+noblest and most godlike of moral virtues, Here it is observable, that
+it is absolutely necessary to make a man virtuous, if we desire he
+should be pitied: we lament not, but detest, a wicked man; we are glad
+when we behold his crimes are punished, and that poetical justice is
+done upon him. Euripides was censured by the critics of his time, for
+making his chief characters too wicked; for example, Phaedra, though
+she loved her son-in-law with reluctancy, and that it was a curse upon
+her family for offending Venus, yet was thought too ill a pattern for
+the stage. Shall we therefore banish all characters of villainy? I
+confess I am not of that opinion; but it is necessary that the hero of
+the play be not a villain; that is, the characters, which should move
+our pity, ought to have virtuous inclinations, and degrees of moral
+goodness in them. As for a perfect character of virtue, it never was
+in nature, and therefore there can be no imitation of it; but there
+are allays of frailty to be allowed for the chief persons, yet so that
+the good which is in them shall outweigh the bad, and consequently
+leave room for punishment on the one side, and pity on the other.
+
+After all, if any one will ask me, whether a tragedy cannot be made
+upon any other grounds than those of exciting pity and terror in
+us;--Bossu, the best of modern critics, answers thus in general: That
+all excellent arts, and particularly that of poetry, have been
+invented and brought to perfection by men of a transcendent genius;
+and that, therefore, they, who practise afterwards the same arts, are
+obliged to tread in their footsteps, and to search in their writings
+the foundation of them; for it is not just that new rules should
+destroy the authority of the old. But Rapin writes more particularly
+thus, that no passions in a story are so proper to move our
+concernment, as fear and pity; and that it is from our concernment we
+receive our pleasure, is undoubted. When the soul becomes agitated
+with fear for one character, or hope for another; then it is that we
+are pleased in tragedy, by the interest which we take in their
+adventures.
+
+Here, therefore, the general answer may be given to the first
+question, how far we ought to imitate Shakespeare and Fletcher in
+their plots; namely, that we ought to follow them so far only, as they
+have copied the excellencies of those who invented and brought to
+perfection dramatic poetry; those things only excepted, which
+religion, custom of countries, idioms of languages, &c. have altered
+in the superstructures, but not in the foundation of the design.
+
+How defective Shakespeare and Fletcher have been in all their plots,
+Mr Rymer has discovered in his criticisms. Neither can we, who follow
+them, be excused from the same, or greater errors; which are the more
+unpardonable in us, because we want their beauties to countervail our
+faults. The best of their designs, the most approaching to antiquity,
+and the most conducing to move pity, is the "King and no King;" which,
+if the farce of Bessus were thrown away, is of that inferior sort of
+tragedies, which end with a prosperous event. It is probably derived
+from the story of OEdipus, with the character of Alexander the Great,
+in his extravagances, given to Arbaces. The taking of this play,
+amongst many others, I cannot wholly ascribe to the excellency of the
+action; for I find it moving when it is read. It is true, the faults
+of the plot are so evidently proved, that they can no longer be
+denied. The beauties of it must therefore lie either in the lively
+touches of the passion; or we must conclude, as I think we may, that
+even in imperfect plots there are less degrees of nature, by which
+some faint emotions of pity and terror are raised in us; as a less
+engine will raise a less proportion of weight, though not so much as
+one of Archimedes's making; for nothing can move our nature, but by
+some natural reason, which works upon passions. And, since we
+acknowledge the effect, there must be something in the cause.
+
+The difference between Shakespeare and Fletcher, in their plottings,
+seems to be this; that Shakespeare generally moves more terror, and
+Fletcher more compassion: for the first had a more masculine, a
+bolder, and more fiery genius; the second, a more soft and womanish.
+In the mechanic beauties of the plot, which are the observation of the
+three unities, time, place, and action, they are both deficient; but
+Shakespeare most. Ben Jonson reformed those errors in his comedies,
+yet one of Shakespeare's was regular before him; which is, "The Merry
+Wives of Windsor." For what remains concerning the design, you are to
+be referred to our English critic. That method which he has prescribed
+to raise it, from mistake, or ignorance of the crime, is certainly the
+best, though it is not the only; for amongst all the tragedies of
+Sophocles, there is but one, OEdipus, which is wholly built after that
+model.
+
+After the plot, which is the foundation of the play, the next thing to
+which we ought to apply our judgment, is the manners; for now the poet
+comes to work above ground. The ground-work, indeed, is that which is
+most necessary, as that upon which depends the firmness of the whole
+fabric; yet it strikes not the eye so much, as the beauties or
+imperfections of the manners, the thoughts, and the expressions.
+
+The first rule which Bossu prescribes to the writer of an heroic poem,
+and which holds too by the same reason in all dramatic poetry, is to
+make the moral of the work; that is, to lay down to yourself what that
+precept of morality shall be, which you would insinuate into the
+people; as, namely, Homer's (which I have copied in my "Conquest of
+Granada,") was, that union preserves a commonwealth and discord
+destroys it. Sophocles, in his OEdipus, that no man is to be accounted
+happy before his death. It is the moral that directs the whole action
+of the play to one centre; and that action or fable is the example
+built upon the moral, which confirms the truth of it to our
+experience. When the fable is designed, then, and not before, the
+persons are to be introduced, with their manners, characters, and
+passions.
+
+The manners, in a poem, are understood to be those inclinations,
+whether natural or acquired, which move and carry us to actions, good,
+bad, or indifferent, in a play; or which incline the persons to such
+or such actions. I have anticipated part of this discourse already, in
+declaring that a poet ought not to make the manners perfectly good in
+his best persons; but neither are they to be more wicked in any of his
+characters, than necessity requires. To produce a villain, without
+other reason than a natural inclination to villainy, is, in poetry, to
+produce an effect without a cause; and to make him more a villain than
+he has just reason to be, is to make an effect which is stronger than
+the cause.
+
+The manners arise from many causes; and are either distinguished by
+complexion, as choleric and phlegmatic, or by the differences of age
+or sex, of climates, or quality of the persons, or their present
+condition. They are likewise to be gathered from the several virtues,
+vices, or passions, and many other common-places, which a poet must be
+supposed to have learned from natural philosophy, ethics, and history;
+of all which, whosoever is ignorant, does not deserve the name of
+poet.
+
+But as the manners are useful in this art, they may be all comprised
+under these general heads: First, they must be apparent; that is, in
+every character of the play, some inclinations of the person must
+appear; and these are shown in the actions and discourse. Secondly,
+the manners must be suitable, or agreeing to the persons; that is, to
+the age, sex, dignity, and the other general heads of manners: thus,
+when a poet has given the dignity of a king to one of his persons, in
+all his actions and speeches, that person must discover majesty,
+magnanimity, and jealousy of power, because these are suitable to the
+general manners of a king[1]. The third property of manners is
+resemblance; and this is founded upon the particular characters of
+men, as we have them delivered to us by relation or history; that is,
+when a poet has the known character of this or that man before him, he
+is bound to represent him such, at least not contrary to that which
+fame has reported him to have been. Thus, it is not a poet's choice to
+make Ulysses choleric, or Achilles patient, because Homer has
+described them quite otherwise. Yet this is a rock, on which ignorant
+writers daily split; and the absurdity is as monstrous, as if a
+painter should draw a coward running from a battle, and tell us it was
+the picture of Alexander the Great.
+
+The last property of manners is, that they be constant and equal, that
+is, maintained the same through the whole design: thus, when Virgil
+had once given the name of _pious_ to AEneas, he was bound to show him
+such, in all his words and actions through the whole poem. All these
+properties Horace has hinted to a judicious observer.--1. _Notandi
+sunt tibi mores;_ 2. _Aut famam sequere,_ 3. _aut sibi concenientia
+finge;_ 4. _Sercetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi
+constet._
+
+From the manners, the characters of persons are derived; for, indeed,
+the characters are no other than the inclinations, as they appear in
+the several persons of the poem; a character being thus defined,--that
+which distinguishes one man from another. Not to repeat the same
+things over again, which have been said of the manners, I will only
+add what is necessary here. A character, or that which distinguishes
+one man from all others, cannot be supposed to consist of one
+particular virtue, or vice, or passion only; but it is a composition
+of qualities which are not contrary to one another in the same person.
+Thus, the same man may be liberal and valiant, but not liberal and
+covetous; so in a comical character, or humour, (which is an
+inclination to this or that particular folly) Falstaff is a liar, and
+a coward, a glutton, and a buffoon, because all these qualities may
+agree in the same man; yet it is still to be observed, that one
+virtue, vice, and passion, ought to be shown in every man, as
+predominant over all the rest; as covetousness in Crassus, love of his
+country in Brutus; and the same in characters which are feigned.
+
+The chief character or hero in a tragedy, as I have already shown,
+ought in prudence to be such a man, who has so much more of virtue in
+him than of vice, that he may be left amiable to the audience, which
+otherwise cannot have any concernment for his sufferings; and it is on
+this one character, that the pity and terror must be principally, if
+not wholly, founded: a rule which is extremely necessary, and which
+none of the critics, that I know, have fully enough discovered to us.
+For terror and compassion work but weakly when they are divided into
+many persons. If Creon had been the chief character in "OEdipus,"
+there had neither been terror nor compassion moved; but only
+detestation of the man, and joy for his punishment; if Adrastus and
+Eurydice had been made more appearing characters, then the pity had
+been divided, and lessened on the part of OEdipus. But making OEdipus
+the best and bravest person, and even Jocasta but an underpart to him,
+his virtues, and the punishment of his fatal crime, drew both the
+pity, and the terror to himself.
+
+By what has been said of the manners, it will be easy for a reasonable
+man to judge, whether the characters be truly or falsely drawn in a
+tragedy; for if there be no manners appearing in the characters, no
+concernment for the persons can be raised; no pity or horror can be
+moved, but by vice or virtue; therefore, without them, no person can
+have any business in the play. If the inclinations be obscure, it is a
+sign the poet is in the dark, and knows not what manner of man he
+presents to you; and consequently you can have no idea, or very
+imperfect, of that man; nor can judge what resolutions he ought to
+take; or what words or actions are proper for him. Most comedies, made
+up of accidents or adventures, are liable to fall into this error; and
+tragedies with many turns are subject to it; for the manners can never
+be evident, where the surprises of fortune take up all the business of
+the stage; and where the poet is more in pain, to tell you what
+happened to such a man, than what he was. It is one of the
+excellencies of Shakespeare, that the manners of his persons are
+generally apparent; and you see their bent and inclinations. Fletcher
+comes far short of him in this, as indeed he does almost in every
+thing. There are but glimmerings of manners in most of his comedies,
+which run upon adventures; and in his tragedies, Rollo, Otto, the King
+and no King, Melantius, and many others of his best, are but pictures
+shown you in the twilight; you know not whether they resemble vice or
+virtue, and they are either good, bad, or indifferent, as the present
+scene requires it. But of all poets, this commendation is to be given
+to Ben Jonson, that the manners even of the most inconsiderable
+persons in his plays, are every where apparent.
+
+By considering the second quality of manners, which is, that they be
+suitable to the age, quality, country, dignity, &c. of the character,
+we may likewise judge whether a poet has followed nature. In this
+kind, Sophocles and Euripides have more excelled among the Greeks than
+AEschylus; and Terence more than Plautus, among the Romans. Thus,
+Sophocles gives to OEdipus the true qualities of a king, in both those
+plays which bear his name; but in the latter, which is the "OEdipus
+Coloneus," he lets fall on purpose his tragic style; his hero speaks
+not in the arbitrary tone; but remembers, in the softness of his
+complaints, that he is an unfortunate blind old man; that he is
+banished from his country, and persecuted by his next relations. The
+present French poets are generally accused, that wheresoever they lay
+the scene, or in whatsoever age, the manners of their heroes are
+wholly French. Racine's Bajazet is bred at Constantinople; but his
+civilities are conveyed to him, by some secret passage, from
+Versailles into the seraglio. But our Shakespeare, having ascribed to
+Henry the Fourth the character of a king and of a father, gives him
+the perfect manners of each relation, when either he transacts with
+his son or with his subjects. Fletcher, on the other side, gives
+neither to Arbaces, nor to his king, in "The Maid's Tragedy," the
+qualities which are suitable to a monarch; though he may be excused a
+little in the latter, for the king there is not uppermost in the
+character; it is the lover of Evadne, who is king only in a second
+consideration; and though he be unjust, and has other faults which
+shall be nameless, yet he is not the hero of the play. It is true, we
+find him a lawful prince, (though I never heard of any king that was
+in Rhodes) and therefore Mr Rymer's criticism stands good,--that he
+should not be shown in so vicious a character. Sophocles has been more
+judicious in his "Antigona;" for, though he represents in Creon a
+bloody prince, yet he makes him not a lawful king, but an usurper, and
+Antigona herself is the heroine of the tragedy: but when Philaster
+wounds Arethusa and the boy; and Perigot his mistress, in the
+"Faithful Shepherdess," both these are contrary to the character of
+manhood. Nor is Valentinian managed much better; for, though Fletcher
+has taken his picture truly, and shown him as he was, an effeminate,
+voluptuous man, yet he has forgotten that he was an emperor, and has
+given him none of those royal marks, which ought to appear in a lawful
+successor of the throne. If it be enquired, what Fletcher should have
+done on this occasion; ought he not to have represented Valentinian as
+he was;--Bossu shall answer this question for me, by an instance of
+the like nature: Mauritius, the Greek emperor, was a prince far
+surpassing Valentinian, for he was endued with many kingly virtues; he
+was religious, merciful, and valiant, but withal he was noted of
+extreme covetousness, a vice which is contrary to the character of a
+hero, or a prince: therefore, says the critic, that emperor was no fit
+person to be represented in a tragedy, unless his good qualities were
+only to be shown, and his covetousness (which sullied them all) were
+slurred over by the artifice of the poet. To return once more to
+Shakespeare; no man ever drew so many characters, or generally
+distinguished them better from one another, excepting only Jonson. I
+will instance but in one, to show the copiousness of his invention; it
+is that of Caliban, or the monster, in "The Tempest." He seems there
+to have created a person which was not in nature, a boldness which, at
+first sight, would appear intolerable; for he makes him a species of
+himself, begotten by an incubus on a witch; but this, as I have
+elsewhere proved, is not wholly beyond the bounds of credibility, at
+least the vulgar still believe it. We have the separated notions of a
+spirit, and of a witch; (and spirits, according to Plato, are vested
+with a subtle body; according to some of his followers, have different
+sexes;) therefore, as from the distinct apprehensions of a horse, and
+of a man, imagination has formed a centaur; so, from those of an
+incubus and a sorceress, Shakespeare has produced his monster. Whether
+or no his generation can be defended, I leave to philosophy; but of
+this I am certain, that the poet has most judiciously furnished him
+with a person, a language, and a character, which will suit him, both
+by father's and mother's side: he has all the discontents, and malice
+of a witch, and of a devil, besides a convenient proportion of the
+deadly sins; gluttony, sloth, and lust, are manifest; the dejectedness
+of a slave is likewise given him, and the ignorance of one bred up in
+a desert island. His person is monstrous, and he is the product of
+unnatural lust; and his language is as hobgoblin as his person; in all
+things he is distinguished from other mortals. The characters of
+Fletcher are poor and narrow, in comparison of Shakspeare's; I
+remember not one which is not borrowed from him; unless you will
+except that strange mixture of a man in the "King and no King;" so
+that in this part Shakespeare is generally worth our imitation; and to
+imitate Fletcher is but to copy after him who was a copyer.
+
+Under this general head of manners, the passions are naturally
+included, as belonging to the characters. I speak not of pity and of
+terror, which are to be moved in the audience by the plot; but of
+anger, hatred, love, ambition, jealousy, revenge, &c. as they are
+shown in this or that person of the play. To describe these naturally,
+and to move them artfully, is one of the greatest commendations which
+can be given to a poet: to write pathetically, says Longinus, cannot
+proceed but from a lofty genius. A poet must be born with this
+quality: yet, unless he help himself by an acquired knowledge of the
+passions, what they are in their own nature, and by what springs they
+are to be moved, he will be subject either to raise them where they
+ought not to be raised, or not to raise them by the just degrees of
+nature, or to amplify them beyond the natural bounds, or not to
+observe the crisis and turns of them, in their cooling and decay; all
+which errors proceed from want of judgment in the poet, and from being
+unskilled in the principles of moral philosophy. Nothing is more
+frequent in a fanciful writer, than to foil himself by not managing
+his strength; therefore, as, in a wrestler, there is first required
+some measure of force, a well-knit body and active limbs, without
+which all instruction would be vain; yet, these being granted, if he
+want the skill which is necessary to a wrestler, he shall make but
+small advantage of his natural robustuousness: so, in a poet, his
+inborn vehemence and force of spirit will only run him out of breath
+the sooner, if it be not supported by the help of art. The roar of
+passion, indeed, may please an audience, three parts of which are
+ignorant enough to think all is moving which is noisy, and it may
+stretch the lungs of an ambitious actor, who will die upon the spot
+for a thundering clap; but it will move no other passion than
+indignation and contempt from judicious men. Longinus, whom I have
+hitherto followed, continues thus:--If the passions be artfully
+employed, the discourse becomes vehement and lofty: if otherwise,
+there is nothing more ridiculous than a great passion out of season:
+and to this purpose he animadverts severely upon AEschylus, who writ
+nothing in cold blood, but was always in a rapture, and in fury with
+his audience: the inspiration was still upon him, he was ever tearing
+it upon the tripos; or (to run off as madly as he does, from one
+similitude to another) he was always at high-flood of passion, even in
+the dead ebb, and lowest water-mark of the scene. He who would raise
+the passion of a judicious audience, says a learned critic, must be
+sure to take his hearers along with him; if they be in a calm, 'tis in
+vain for him to be in a huff: he must move them by degrees, and kindle
+with them; otherwise he will be in danger of setting his own heap of
+stubble on fire, and of burning out by himself, without warming the
+company that stand about him. They who would justify the madness of
+poetry from the authority of Aristotle, have mistaken the text, and
+consequently the interpretation: I imagine it to be false read, where
+he says of poetry, that it is [Greek: Euphuous e manikou], that it had
+always somewhat in it either of a genius, or of a madman. 'Tis more
+probable that the original ran thus, that poetry was [Greek: Euphuous
+ou manikou], That it belongs to a witty man, but not to a madman. Thus
+then the passions, as they are considered simply and in themselves,
+suffer violence when they are perpetually maintained at the same
+height; for what melody can be made on that instrument, all whose
+strings are screwed up at first to their utmost stretch, and to the
+same sound? But this is not the worst: for the characters likewise
+bear a part in the general calamity, if you consider the passions as
+embodied in them; for it follows of necessity, that no man can be
+distinguished from another by his discourse, when every man is
+ranting, swaggering, and exclaiming with the same excess: as if it
+were the only business of all the characters to contend with each
+other for the prize at Billingsgate; or that the scene of the tragedy
+lay in Bethlem. Suppose the poet should intend this man to be
+choleric, and that man to be patient; yet when they are confounded in
+the writing, you cannot distinguish them from one another: for the man
+who was called patient and tame, is only so before he speaks; but let
+his clack be set a-going, and he shall tongue it as impetuously and as
+loudly, as the arrantest hero in the play. By this means, the
+characters are only distinct in name; but, in reality, all the men and
+women in the play are the same person. No man should pretend to write,
+who cannot temper his fancy with his judgment: nothing is more
+dangerous to a raw horseman, than a hot-mouthed jade without a curb.
+
+It is necessary therefore for a poet, who would concern an audience by
+describing of a passion, first to prepare it, and not to rush upon it
+all at once. Ovid has judiciously shown the difference of these two
+ways, in the speeches of Ajax and Ulysses: Ajax, from the very
+beginning, breaks out into his exclamations, and is swearing by his
+Maker,--_Agimus, proh Jupiter, inquit._ Ulysses, on the contrary,
+prepares his audience with all the submissiveness he can practise, and
+all the calmness of a reasonable man; he found his judges in a
+tranquillity of spirit, and therefore set out leisurely and softly
+with them, till he had warmed them by degrees; and then he began to
+mend his pace, and to draw them along with his own impetuousness: yet
+so managing his breath, that it might not fail him at his need, and
+reserving his utmost proofs of ability even to the last. The success,
+you see, was answerable; for the crowd only applauded the speech of
+Ajax;--
+
+  _Vulgique secutum ultima murmur erat:--_
+
+But the judges awarded the prize, for which they contended, to
+Ulysses;
+
+  _Mota manus procerum est; et quid facundia posset
+  Tum patuit, fortisque viri tulit arma disertus._
+
+The next necessary rule is, to put nothing into the discourse, which
+may hinder your moving of the passions. Too many accidents, as I have
+said, incumber the poet, as much as the arms of Saul did David; for
+the variety of passions, which they produce, are ever crossing and
+justling each other out of the way. He, who treats of joy and grief
+together, is in a fair way of causing neither of those effects. There
+is yet another obstacle to be removed, which is,--pointed wit, and
+sentences affected out of season; these are nothing of kin to the
+violence of passion: no man is at leisure to make sentences and
+similes, when his soul is in an agony. I the rather name this fault,
+that it may serve to mind me of my former errors; neither will I spare
+myself, but give an example of this kind from my "Indian Emperor."
+Montezuma, pursued by his enemies, and seeking sanctuary, stands
+parleying without the fort, and describing his danger to Cydaria, in a
+simile of six lines;
+
+  As on the sands the frighted traveller
+  Sees the high seas come rolling from afar, &c.
+
+My Indian potentate was well skilled in the sea for an inland prince,
+and well improved since the first act, when he sent his son to
+discover it. The image had not been amiss from another man, at another
+time: _Sed nunc non erat his locus:_ he destroyed the concernment
+which the audience might otherwise have had for him; for they could
+not think the danger near, when he had the leisure to invent a simile.
+
+If Shakespeare be allowed, as I think he must, to have made his
+characters distinct, it will easily be inferred, that he understood
+the nature of the passions: because it has been proved already, that
+confused passions make distinguishable characters: yet I cannot deny
+that he has his failings; but they are not so much in the passions
+themselves, as in his manner of expression: he often obscures his
+meaning by his words, and sometimes makes it unintelligible. I will
+not say of so great a poet, that he distinguished not the blown puffy
+stile, from true sublimity; but I may venture to maintain, that the
+fury of his fancy often transported him beyond the bounds of judgment,
+either in coining of new words and phrases, or racking words which
+were in use, into the violence of a catachresis. It is not that I
+would explode the use of metaphors from passion, for Longinus thinks
+them necessary to raise it: but to use them at every word, to say
+nothing without a metaphor, a simile, an image, or description; is, I
+doubt, to smell a little too strongly of the buskin. I must be forced
+to give an example of expressing passion figuratively; but that I may
+do it with respect to Shakespeare, it shall not be taken from any
+thing of his: it is an exclamation against Fortune, quoted in his
+Hamlet, but written by some other poet:
+
+  Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! all you gods,
+  In general synod, take away her power;
+  Break all the spokes and felleys from her wheel,
+  And bowl the round nave down the hill of heav'n,
+  As low as to the fiends.
+
+And immediately after, speaking of Hecuba, when Priam was killed
+before her eyes:
+
+  But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled queen
+  Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flame
+  With bisson rheum; a clout about that head,
+  Where late the diadem stood; and, for a rob
+  About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
+  A blanket in th' alarm of fear caught up.
+  Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd
+  'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd;
+  But if the gods themselves did see her then,
+  When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
+  In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
+  The instant burst of clamour that she made
+  (Unless things mortal move them not at all)
+  Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
+  And passion in the gods.
+
+What a pudder is here kept in raising the expression of trifling
+thoughts! would not a man have thought that the poet had been bound
+prentice to a wheel-wright, for his first rant? and had followed a
+rag-man, for the clout and blanket, in the second? Fortune is painted
+on a wheel, and therefore the writer, in a rage, will have poetical
+justice done upon every member of that engine: after this execution,
+he bowls the nave down-hill, from heaven, to the fiends: (an
+unreasonable long mark, a man would think;) 'tis well there are no
+solid orbs to stop it in the way, or no element of fire to consume it:
+but when it came to the earth, it must be monstrous heavy, to break
+ground as low as the center. His making milch the burning eyes of
+heaven, was a pretty tolerable flight too: and I think no man ever
+drew milk out of eyes before him: yet, to make the wonder greater,
+these eyes were burning. Such a sight indeed were enough to have
+raised passion in the gods; but to excuse the effects of it, he tells
+you, perhaps they did not see it. Wise men would be glad to find a
+little sense couched under all these pompous words; for bombast is
+commonly the delight of that audience, which loves poetry, but
+understands it not: and as commonly has been the practice of those
+writers, who, not being able to infuse a natural passion into the
+mind, have made it their business to ply the ears, and to stun their
+judges by the noise. But Shakespeare does not often thus; for the
+passions in his scene between Brutus and Cassius are extremely
+natural, the thoughts are such as arise from the matter, the
+expression of them not viciously figurative. I cannot leave this
+subject, before I do justice to that divine poet, by giving you one of
+his passionate descriptions: 'tis of Richard the Second when he was
+deposed, and led in triumph through the streets of London by Henry of
+Bolingbroke: the painting of it is so lively, and the words so moving
+that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it, in any other
+language. Suppose you have seen already the fortunate usurper passing
+through the crowd, and followed by the shouts and acclamations of the
+people; and now behold King Richard entering upon the scene: consider
+the wretchedness of his condition, and his carriage in it; and refrain
+from pity, if you can:
+
+  As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
+  After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
+  Are idly bent on him that enters next,
+  Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
+  Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
+  Did scowl on Richard: no man cry'd, God save him:
+  No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home,
+  But dust was thrown upon his sacred head,
+  Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
+  His face still combating with tears and smiles,
+  (The badges of his grief and patience)
+  That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd
+  The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
+  And barbarism itself have pitied him.
+
+To speak justly of this whole matter: it is neither height of thought
+that is discommended, nor pathetic vehemence, nor any nobleness of
+expression in its proper place; but it is a false measure of all
+these, something which is like them, and is not them: it is the
+Bristol-stone, which appears like a diamond; it is an extravagant
+thought, instead of a sublime one; it is roaring madness, instead of
+vehemence; and a sound of words, instead of sense. If Shakespeare were
+stripped of all the bombasts in his passions, and dressed in the most
+vulgar words, we should find the beauties of his thoughts remaining;
+if his embroideries were burnt down, there would still be silver at
+the bottom of the melting-pot: but I fear (at least let me fear it for
+myself) that we, who ape his sounding words, have nothing of his
+thought, but are all outside; there is not so much as a dwarf within
+our giant's clothes. Therefore, let not Shakespeare suffer for our
+sakes; it is our fault, who succeed him in an age which is more
+refined, if we imitate him so ill, that we copy his failings only, and
+make a virtue of that in our writings, which in his was an
+imperfection.
+
+For what remains, the excellency of that poet was, as I have said, in
+the more manly passions; Fletcher's in the softer: Shakespeare writ
+better betwixt man and man; Fletcher, betwixt man and woman:
+consequently, the one described friendship better; the other love: yet
+Shakespeare taught Fletcher to write love: and Juliet and Desdemona
+are originals. It is true, the scholar had the softer soul; but the
+master had the kinder. Friendship is both a virtue and a passion
+essentially; love is a passion only in its nature, and is not a virtue
+but by accident: good nature makes friendship; but effeminacy love.
+Shakespeare had an universal mind, which comprehended all characters
+and passions; Fletcher a more confined and limited: for though he
+treated love in perfection, yet honour, ambition, revenge, and
+generally all the stronger, passions, he either touched not, or not
+masterly. To conclude all, he was a limb of Shakespeare.
+
+I had intended to have proceeded to the last property of manners,
+which is, that they must be constant, and the characters maintained
+the same from the beginning to the end; and from thence to have
+proceeded to the thoughts and expressions suitable to a tragedy: but I
+will first see how this will relish with the age. It is, I confess,
+but cursorily written; yet the judgment, which is given here, is
+generally founded upon experience: but because many men are shocked at
+the name of rules, as if they were a kind of magisterial prescription
+upon poets, I will conclude with the words of Rapin, in his
+Reflections on Aristotle's Work of Poetry: "If the rules be well
+considered, we shall find them to be made only to reduce nature into
+method, to trace her step by step, and not to suffer the least mark of
+her to escape us: it is only by these, that probability in fiction is
+maintained, which is the soul of poetry. They are founded upon good
+sense, and sound reason, rather than on authority; for though
+Aristotle and Horace are produced, yet no man must argue, that what
+they write is true, because they writ it; but 'tis evident, by the
+ridiculous mistakes and gross absurdities, which have been made by
+those poets who have taken their fancy only for their guide, that if
+this fancy be not regulated, it is a mere caprice, and utterly
+incapable to produce a reasonable and judicious poem."
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The _dictum_ of Rymer, concerning the royal prerogative in poetry,
+   is thus expressed: "We are to presume the highest virtues, where we
+   find the highest of rewards; and though it is not necessary that
+   all heroes should be kings, yet, undoubtedly, all crowned heads, by
+   poetical right, are heroes. This character is a flower; a
+   prerogative so certain, so inseparably annexed to the crown, as by
+   no parliament of poets ever to be invaded." _The Tragedies of the
+   last Age considered,_ p. 61. Dryden has elsewhere given his assent
+   to this maxim, that a king, in poetry, as in our constitution, can
+   do no wrong. The only apology for introducing a tyrant upon the
+   stage, was to make him at the same time an usurper.
+
+
+
+
+                               PROLOGUE
+
+                       SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON,
+                REPRESENTING THE GHOST OF SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+  See, my loved Britons, see your Shakespeare rise,
+  An awful ghost confessed to human eyes!
+  Unnamed, methinks, distinguished I had been
+  From other shades, by this eternal green,
+  About whose wreaths the vulgar poets strive,
+  And with a touch, their withered bays revive.
+  Untaught, unpractised, in a barbarous age,
+  I found not, but created first the stage.
+  And, if I drained no Greek or Latin store,
+  'Twas, that my own abundance gave me more.
+  On foreign trade I needed not rely,
+  Like fruitful Britain, rich without supply.
+  In this my rough-drawn play, you shall behold
+  Some master-strokes, so manly and so bold,
+  That he who meant to alter, found 'em such,
+  He shook, and thought it sacrilege to touch.
+  Now, where are the successors to my name?
+  What bring they to fill out a poet's fame?
+  Weak, short-lived issues of a feeble age;
+  Scarce living to be christened on the stage!
+  For humour farce, for love they rhyme dispense,
+  That tolls the knell for their departed sense.
+  Dulness might thrive in any trade but this:
+  'Twould recommend to some fat benefice.
+  Dulness, that in a playhouse meets disgrace,
+  Might meet with reverence, in its proper place.
+  The fulsome clench, that nauseates the town,
+  Would from a judge or alderman go down,
+  Such virtue is there in a robe and gown!
+  And that insipid stuff which here you hate,
+  Might somewhere else be called a grave debate;
+  Dulness is decent in the church and state.
+  But I forget that still 'tis understood,
+  Bad plays are best decried by showing good.
+  Sit silent then, that my pleased soul may see
+  A judging audience once, and worthy me;
+  My faithful scene from true records shall tell,
+  How Trojan valour did the Greek excell;
+  Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,
+  And Homer's angry ghost repine in vain[1].
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. The conceit, which our ancestors had adopted, of their descent from
+   Brutus, a fugitive Trojan, induced their poets to load the Grecian
+   chiefs with every accusation of cowardice and treachery, and to
+   extol the character of the Trojans in the same proportion. Hector
+   is always represented as having been treacherously slain.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  HECTOR,  } _Sons of_ PRIAM.
+  TROILUS, }
+  PRIAM, _King of Troy._
+  AENEAS, _a Trojan Warrior._
+  PANDARUS, _Uncle to_ CRESSIDA.
+  CALCHAS, _a Trojan Priest, and Father to_ CRESSIDA, _a fugitive to
+           the Grecian camp._
+  AGAMEMNON, }
+  ULYSSES,   }
+  ACHILLES,  }
+  AJAX,      } _Grecian Warriors, engaged in the_
+  NESTOR,    } _siege of Troy._
+  DIOMEDES,  }
+  PATROCLUS, }
+  MENELAUS,  }
+  THERSITES, _a slanderous Buffoon._
+
+  CRESSIDA, _Daughter to_ CALCHAS.
+  ANDROMACHE, _Wife to_ HECTOR.
+
+
+
+
+                         TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Camp._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, _and_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Princes, it seems not strange to us, nor new,
+That, after nine years siege, Troy makes defence,
+Since every action of recorded fame
+Has with long difficulties been involved,
+Not answering that idea of the thought,
+Which gave it birth; why then, you Grecian chiefs,
+With sickly eyes do you behold our labours,
+And think them our dishonour, which indeed
+Are the protractive trials of the gods,
+To prove heroic constancy in men?
+
+_Nest._ With due observance of thy sovereign seat,
+Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
+Thy well-weighed words. In struggling with misfortunes
+Lies the true proof of virtue: On smooth seas,
+How many bauble-boats dare set their sails,
+And make an equal way with firmer vessels!
+But let the tempest once enrage that sea,
+And then behold the strong-ribbed argosie,
+Bounding between the ocean and the air,
+Like Perseus mounted on his Pegasus.
+Then where are those weak rivals of the main?
+Or, to avoid the tempest, fled to port,
+Or made a prey to Neptune. Even thus
+Do empty show, and true-prized worth, divide
+In storms of fortune.
+
+_Ulys._ Mighty Agamemnon!
+Heart of our body, soul of our designs,
+In whom the tempers, and the minds of all
+Should be inclosed,--hear what Ulysses speaks.
+
+_Agam._ You have free leave.
+
+_Ulys._ Troy had been down ere this, and Hector's sword
+Wanted a master, but for our disorders:
+The observance due to rule has been neglected,
+Observe how many Grecian tents stand void
+Upon this plain, so many hollow factions:
+For, when the general is not like the hive,
+To whom the foragers should all repair,
+What honey can our empty combs expect?
+Or when supremacy of kings is shaken,
+What can succeed? How could communities,
+Or peaceful traffic from divided shores,
+Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
+But by degree, stand on their solid base?
+Then every thing resolves to brutal force,
+And headlong force is led by hoodwinked will.
+For wild ambition, like a ravenous wolf,
+Spurred on by will, and seconded by power,
+Must make an universal prey of all,
+And last devour itself.
+
+_Nest._ Most prudently Ulysses has discovered
+The malady, whereof our state is sick.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis truth he speaks; the general's disdained
+By him one step beneath, he by the next;
+That next by him below: So each degree
+Spurns upward at superior eminence.
+Thus our distempers are their sole support;
+Troy in our weakness lives, not in her strength.
+
+_Agam._ The nature of this sickness found, inform us
+From whence it draws its birth?
+
+_Ulys._ The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
+The chief of all our host,
+Having his ears buzzed with his noisy fame,
+Disdains thy sovereign charge, and in his tent
+Lies, mocking our designs; with him Patroclus,
+Upon a lazy bed, breaks scurril jests,
+And with ridiculous and aukward action,
+Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,
+Mimics the Grecian chiefs.
+
+_Agam._ As how, Ulysses?
+
+_Ulys._ Even thee, the king of men, he does not spare,
+(The monkey author) but thy greatness pageants,
+And makes of it rehearsals: like a player,
+Bellowing his passion till he break the spring,
+And his racked voice jar to his audience;
+So represents he thee, though more unlike
+Than Vulcan is to Venus.
+And at this fulsome stuff,--the wit of apes,--
+The large Achilles, on his prest bed lolling,
+From his deep chest roars out a loud applause,
+Tickling his spleen, and laughing till he wheeze.
+
+_Nest._ Nor are you spared, Ulysses; but, as you speak in council,
+He hems ere he begins, then strokes his beard,
+Casts down his looks, and winks with half an eye;
+Has every action, cadence, motion, tone,
+All of you but the sense.
+
+_Agam._ Fortune was merry
+When he was born, and played a trick on nature,
+To make a mimic prince; he ne'er acts ill,
+But when he would seem wise:
+For all he says or does, from serious thought,
+Appears so wretched, that he mocks his title,
+And is his own buffoon.
+
+_Ulys._ In imitation of this scurril fool,
+Ajax is grown self-willed as broad Achilles.
+He keeps a table too, makes factious feasts,
+Rails on our state of war, and sets Thersites
+(A slanderous slave of an o'erflowing gall)
+To level us with low comparisons.
+They tax our policy with cowardice,
+Count wisdom of no moment in the war,
+In brief, esteem no act, but that of hand;
+The still and thoughtful parts, which move those hands,
+With them are but the tasks cut out by fear,
+To be performed by valour.
+
+_Agam._ Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
+Is more of use than he; but you, grave pair,
+Like Time and Wisdom marching hand in hand,
+Must put a stop to these encroaching ills:
+To you we leave the care;
+You, who could show whence the distemper springs,
+Must vindicate the dignity of kings.                        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Troy._
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Why should I fight without the Trojan walls,
+Who, without fighting, am o'erthrown within?
+The Trojan who is master of a soul,
+Let him to battle; Troilus has none.
+
+_Pand._ Will this never be at an end with you?
+
+_Troil._ The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength,
+Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness wary;
+But I am weaker than a woman's tears,
+Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
+And artless as unpractised infancy.
+
+_Pand_ Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part I'll not
+meddle nor make any further in your love; he, that will eat of the
+roastmeat, must stay for the kindling of the fire.
+
+_Troil._ Have I not staid?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, the kindling; but you must stay the spitting of the meat.
+
+_Troil._ Have I not staid?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, the spitting; but there's two words to a bargain; you must
+stay the roasting too.
+
+_Troil._ Still have I staid; and still the farther off.
+
+_Pand._ That's but the roasting, but there's more in this word stay;
+there's the taking off the spit, the making of the sauce, the dishing,
+the setting on the table, and saying grace; nay, you must stay the
+cooling too, or you may chance to burn your chaps.
+
+_Troil._ At Priam's table pensive do I sit,
+And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts--
+(Can she be said to come, who ne'er was absent!)
+
+_Pand._ Well, she's a most ravishing creature; and she looked
+yesterday most killingly; she had such a stroke with her eyes, she cut
+to the quick with every glance of them.
+
+_Troil._ I was about to tell thee, when my heart
+Was ready with a sigh to cleave in two,
+Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
+I have, with mighty anguish of my soul,
+Just at the birth, stifled this still-born sigh,
+And forced my face into a painful smile.
+
+_Pand._ I measured her with my girdle yesterday; she's not half a yard
+about the waist, but so taper a shape did I never see; but when I had
+her in my arms, Lord, thought I,--and by my troth I could not forbear
+sighing,--If prince Troilus had her at this advantage and I were
+holding of the door!--An she were a thought taller,--but as she is,
+she wants not an inch of Helen neither; but there's no more comparison
+between the women--there was wit, there was a sweet tongue! How her
+words melted in her mouth! Mercury would have been glad to have such a
+tongue in his mouth, I warrant him. I would somebody had heard her
+talk yesterday, as I did.
+
+_Troil._ Oh Pandarus, when I tell thee I am mad
+In Cressid's love, thou answer'st she is fair;
+Praisest her eyes, her stature, and her wit;
+But praising thus, instead of oil and balm,
+Thou lay'st, in every wound her love has given me,
+The sword that made it.
+
+_Pand._ I give her but her due.
+
+_Troil._ Thou giv'st her not so much.
+
+_Pand._ Faith, I'll speak no more of her, let her be as she is; if she
+be a beauty, 'tis the better for her; an' she be not, she has the
+mends in her own hands, for Pandarus.
+
+_Troil._ In spite of me, thou wilt mistake my meaning.
+
+_Pand._ I have had but my labour for my pains; ill thought on of her,
+and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, and am ground in
+the mill-stones for my labour.
+
+_Troil._ What, art thou angry, Pandarus, with thy friend?
+
+_Pand._ Because she's my niece, therefore she's not so fair as Helen;
+an' she were not my niece, show me such another piece of woman's
+flesh: take her limb by limb: I say no more, but if Paris had seen her
+first, Menelaus had been no cuckold: but what care I if she were a
+blackamoor? what am I the better for her face?
+
+_Troil._ Said I she was not beautiful?
+
+_Pand._ I care not if you did; she's a fool to stay behind her father
+Calchas: let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her. For my part, I
+am resolute, I'll meddle no more in your affairs.
+
+_Troil._ But hear me!
+
+_Pand._ Not I.
+
+_Troil._ Dear Pandarus--
+
+_Pand._ Pray speak no more on't; I'll not burn my fingers in another
+body's business; I'll leave it as I found it, and there's an end.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Troil._ O gods, how do you torture me!
+I cannot come to Cressida but by him,
+And he's as peevish to be wooed to woo,
+As she is to be won.
+
+  _Enter_ AENEAS.
+
+_AEneas._ How now, prince Troilus; why not in the battle?
+
+_Troil._ Because not there. This woman's answer suits me,
+For womanish it is to be from thence.
+What news, AEneas, from the field to-day?
+
+_AEn._ Paris is hurt.
+
+_Troil._ By whom?
+
+_AEn._ By Menelaus. Hark what good sport               [_Alarm within._
+Is out of town to-day! When I hear such music,
+I cannot hold from dancing.
+
+_Troil._ I'll make one,
+And try to lose an anxious thought or two
+In heat of action.
+Thus, coward-like, from love to war I run,
+Seek the less dangers, and the greater shun.            [_Exit_ TROIL.
+
+  _Enter_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Cres._ My lord AEneas, who were those went by?
+I mean the ladies.
+
+_AEn._ Queen Hecuba and Helen.
+
+_Cres._ And whither go they?
+
+_AEn._ Up to the western tower,
+Whose height commands, as subject, all the vale,
+To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
+Is fixed like that of heaven, to-day was moved;
+He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer,
+And, as there were good husbandry in war.
+Before the sun was up he went to field;
+Your pardon, lady, that's my business too.              [_Exit_ AENEAS.
+
+_Cres._ Hector's a gallant warrior.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ What's that, what's that?
+
+_Cres._ Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.
+
+_Pand._ Good-morrow, cousin Cressida. When were you at court?
+
+_Cres._ This morning, uncle.
+
+_Pand._ What were you a talking, when I came? Was Hector armed, and
+gone ere ye came? Hector was stirring early.
+
+_Cres._ That I was talking of, and of his anger.
+
+_Pand._ Was he angry, say you? true, he was so, and I know the cause.
+He was struck down yesterday in the battle, but he'll lay about him;
+he'll cry quittance with them to-day. I'll answer for him. And there's
+Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take heed of Troilus, I
+can tell them that too.
+
+_Cres._ What, was he struck down too?
+
+_Pand._ Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two.
+
+_Cres._ Oh Jupiter! there's no comparison! Troilus the better man.
+
+_Pand._ What, no comparison between Hector and Troilus? do you know a
+man if you see him?
+
+_Cres._ No: for he may look like a man, and not be one.
+
+_Pand._ Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.
+
+_Cres._ That's what I say; for I am sure he is not Hector.
+
+_Pand._ No, nor Hector is not Troilus: make your best of that, niece!
+
+_Cres._ 'Tis true, for each of them is himself.
+
+_Pand._ Himself! alas, poor Troilus! I would he were himself: well,
+the gods are all-sufficient, and time must mend or end. I would he
+were himself, and would I were a lady for his sake. I would not answer
+for my maidenhead.--No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
+
+_Cres._ Excuse me.
+
+_Pand._ Pardon me; Troilus is in the bud, 'tis early day with him; you
+shall tell me another tale when Troilus is come to bearing; and yet he
+will not bear neither, in some sense. No, Hector shall never have his
+virtues.
+
+_Cres._ No matter.
+
+_Pand._ Nor his beauty, nor his fashion, nor his wit; he shall have
+nothing of him.
+
+_Cres._ They would not become him, his own are better.
+
+_Pand._ How, his own better! you have no judgment, niece; Helen
+herself swore, the other day, that Troilus, for a manly brown
+complexion,--for so it is, I must confess--not brown neither.
+
+_Cres._ No, but very brown.
+
+_Pand._ Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Come, I swear to
+you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris: nay, I'm sure she
+does. She comes me to him the other day, into the bow-window,--and you
+know Troilus has not above three or four hairs on his chin,--
+
+_Cres._ That's but a bare commendation.
+
+_Pand._ But to prove to you that Helen loves him, she comes, and puts
+me her white hand to his cloven chin.
+
+_Cres._ Has he been fighting then? how came it cloven?
+
+_Pand._ Why, you know it is dimpled. I cannot chuse but laugh, to
+think how she tickled his cloven chin. She has a marvellous white
+hand, I must needs confess. But let that pass, for I know who has a
+whiter. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on it, think
+on it.
+
+_Cres._ So I do, uncle.
+
+_Pand._ I'll be sworn it is true; he will weep ye, an' it were a man
+born in April.                                   [_A retreat sounded._
+Hark, they are returning from the field; shall we stay and see them as
+they come by, sweet niece? do, sweet niece Cressida.
+
+_Cres._ For once you shall command me.
+
+_Pand._ Here, here, here is an excellent place; we may see them here
+most bravely, and I'll tell you all their names as they pass by; but
+mark Troilus above the rest; mark Troilus, he's worth your marking.
+
+  AENEAS _passes over the Stage._
+
+_Cres._ Speak not so loud then.
+
+_Pand._ That's AEneas. Is it not a brave man that? he's a swinger, many
+a Grecian he has laid with his face upward; but mark Troilus: you
+shall see anon.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTENOR _passing._
+
+That's Antenor; he has a notable head-piece I can tell you, and he's
+the ablest man for judgment in all Troy; you may turn him loose,
+i'faith, and by my troth a proper person. When comes Troilus? I'll
+shew you Troilus anon; if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
+
+  HECTOR _passes over._
+
+That's Hector, that, that, look you that; there's a fellow! go thy
+way, Hector; there's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector, look how he
+looks! there's a countenance. Is it not a brave man, niece?
+
+_Cres._ I always told you so.
+
+_Pand._ Is he not? it does a man's heart good to look on him; look
+you, look you there, what hacks are on his helmet! this was no boy's
+play, i'faith; he laid it on with a vengeance, take it off who will,
+as they say! there are hacks, niece!
+
+_Cres._ Were those with swords?
+
+_Pand._ Swords, or bucklers, faulchions, darts, and lances! any thing,
+he cares not! an' the devil come, it is all one to him: by Jupiter he
+looks so terribly, that I am half afraid to praise him.
+
+  _Enter_ PARIS.
+
+Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris! look ye yonder, niece; is it
+not a brave young prince too? He draws the best bow in all Troy; he
+hits you to a span twelve-score level:--who said he came home hurt
+to-day? why, this will do Helen's heart good now! ha! that I could see
+Troilus now!
+
+  _Enter_ HELENUS.
+
+_Cres._ Who's that black man, uncle?
+
+_Pand._ That is Helenus.--I marvel where Troilus is all this
+while;--that is Helenus.--I think Troilus went not forth
+to-day;--that's Helenus.
+
+_Cres._ Can Helenus fight, uncle?
+
+_Pand._ Helenus! No, yes; he'll fight indifferently well.--I marvel in
+my heart what's become of Troilus:--Hark! do you not hear the people
+cry, Troilus?--Helenus is a priest, and keeps a whore; he'll fight for
+his whore, or he's no true priest, I warrant him.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS _passing over._
+
+_Cres._ What sneaking fellow comes yonder?
+
+_Pand._ Where, yonder? that's Deiphobus: No, I lie. I lie, that's
+Troilus! there's a man, niece! hem! O brave Troilus! the prince of
+chivalry, and flower of fidelity!
+
+_Cres._ Peace, for shame, peace!
+
+_Pand._ Nay, but mark him then! O brave Troilus! there's a man of men,
+niece! look you how his sword is bloody, and his helmet more hacked
+than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth!
+he never saw two-and-twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! had I a
+sister were a grace, and a daughter a goddess, he should take his
+choice of them. O admirable man! Paris, Paris is dirt to him, and I
+warrant, Helen, to change, would give all the shoes in her shop to
+boot.
+
+  _Enter common Soldiers passing over._
+
+_Cres._ Here come more.
+
+_Pand._ Asses, fools, dolts, dirt, and dung, stuff, and lumber,
+porridge after meat; but I could live and die with Troilus. Ne'er
+look, niece, ne'er look, the lions are gone: apes and monkeys, the fag
+end of the creation. I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than
+Agamemnon and all Greece.
+
+_Cres._ There's Achilles among the Greeks, he's a brave man.
+
+_Pand._ Achilles! a carman, a beast of burden; a very camel: have you
+any eyes, niece? do you know a man? is he to be compared with Troilus?
+
+  _Enter Page._
+
+_Page._ Sir, my lord Troilus would instantly speak with you.
+
+_Pand._ Where boy, where?
+
+_Page._ At his own house, if you think convenient.
+
+_Pand._ Good boy, tell him I come instantly: I doubt he's wounded.
+Farewell, good niece. But I'll be with you by and by.
+
+_Cres._ To bring me, uncle!
+
+_Pand._ Ay, a token from prince Troilus.               [_Exit_ PANDAR.
+
+_Cres_. By the same token, you are a procurer, uncle.
+
+  CRESSIDA _alone._
+
+A strange dissembling sex we women are:
+Well may we men, when we ourselves deceive.
+Long has my secret soul loved Troilus;
+I drunk his praises from my uncle's mouth,
+As if my ears could ne'er be satisfied:
+Why then, why said I not, I love this prince?
+How could my tongue conspire against my heart,
+To say I loved him not? O childish love!
+'Tis like an infant, froward in his play,
+And what he most desires, he throws away.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_Troy._
+
+  _Enter_ PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, _and_ AENEAS.
+
+_Priam._ After the expence of so much time and blood,
+Thus once again the Grecians send to Troy;--
+Deliver Helen, and all other loss
+Shall be forgotten.--Hector, what say you to it?
+
+_Hect._ Though no man less can fear the Greeks than I,
+Yet there's no virgin of more tender heart,
+More ready to cry out,--who knows the consequence?
+Than Hector is; for modest doubt is mixed
+With manly courage best: let Helen go.
+If we have lost so many lives of ours,
+To keep a thing not ours, not worth to us
+The value of a man, what reason is there
+Still to retain the cause of so much ill?
+
+_Troil._ Fye, fye, my noble brother!
+Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
+So great as Asia's monarch, in a scale
+Of common ounces thus?
+Are fears and reasons fit to be considered,
+When a king's fame is questioned?
+
+_Hect._ Brother, she's not worth
+What her defence has cost us.
+
+_Troil._ What's aught, but as 'tis valued?
+
+_Hect._ But value dwells not in opinion only:
+It holds the dignity and estimation,
+As well, wherein 'tis precious of itself,
+As in the prizer: 'tis idolatry,
+To make the service greater than the god.
+
+_Troil._ We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
+When we have worn them; the remaining food
+Throw not away, because we now are full.
+If you confess, 'twas wisdom Paris went;--
+As you must needs, for you all cried, _Go, go:--_
+If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize;--
+As you must needs, for you all clapped your hands,
+And cried, _Inestimable!_--Why do you now
+So under-rate the value of your purchase?
+For, let me tell you, 'tis unmanly theft,
+When we have taken what we fear to keep.
+
+_AEne._ There's not the meanest spirit in our party,
+Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,
+When Helen is defended: None so noble,
+Whose life were ill bestowed, or death unfamed,
+When Helen is the subject.
+
+_Priam._ So says Paris,
+Like one besotted on effeminate joys;
+He has the honey still, but these the gall.
+
+_AEne._ He not proposes merely to himself
+The pleasures such a beauty brings with it;
+But he would have the stain of Helen's rape
+Wiped off, in honourable keeping her.
+
+_Hect._ Troilus and AEneas, you have said;
+If saying superficial things be reason.
+But if this Helen be another's wife,
+The moral laws of nature and of nations
+Speak loud she be restored. Thus to persist
+In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,
+But makes it much more so. Hector's opinion
+Is this, in way of truth: yet, ne'ertheless,
+My sprightly brother, I incline to you
+In resolution to defend her still:
+For 'tis a cause on which our Trojan honour
+And common reputation will depend.
+
+_Troil._ Why there you touched the life of our design:
+Were it not glory that we covet more
+Than war and vengeance, (beasts' and women's pleasure)
+I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
+Spent more in her defence; but oh! my brother,
+She is a subject of renown and honour;
+And I presume brave Hector would not lose
+The rich advantage of his future fame
+For the wide world's revenue:--I have business;
+But glad I am to leave you thus resolved.
+When such arms strike, ne'er doubt of the success.
+
+_AEn._ May we not guess?
+
+_Troil._ You may, and be deceived.                      [_Exit_ TROIL.
+
+_Hect._ A woman, on my life: even so it happens,
+Religion, state-affairs, whate'er's the theme,
+It ends in woman still.
+
+  _Enter_ ANDROMACHE.
+
+_Priam._ See, here's your wife,
+To make that maxim good.
+
+_Hect._ Welcome, Andromache: your looks are chearful,
+You bring some pleasing news.
+
+_Andro._ Nothing that's serious.
+Your little son Astyanax has employed me
+As his ambassadress.
+
+_Hect._ Upon what errand?
+
+_Andro._ No less than that his grandfather this day
+Would make him knight: he longs to kill a Grecian:
+For should he stay to be a man, he thinks
+You'll kill them all; and leave no work for him.
+
+_Priam._ Your own blood, Hector.
+
+_Andro._ And therefore he designs to send a challenge
+To Agamemnon, Ajax, or Achilles,
+To prove they do not well to burn our fields,
+And keep us cooped like prisoners in a town,
+To lead this lazy life.
+
+_Hect._ What sparks of honour
+Fly from this child! the gods speak in him sure:
+--It shall be so--I'll do't.
+
+_Priam._ What means my son?
+
+_Hect._ To send a challenge to the boldest Greek.
+Is not that country ours? those fruitful fields
+Washed by yon silver flood, are they not ours?
+Those teeming vines that tempt our longing eyes,
+Shall we behold them? shall we call them ours,
+And dare not make them so? by heavens I'll know
+Which of these haughty Grecians dares to think
+He can keep Hector prisoner here in Troy.
+
+_Priam._ If Hector only were a private man,
+This would be courage; but in him 'tis madness.
+The general safety on your life depends;
+And, should you perish in this rash attempt,
+Troy with a groan would feel her soul go out,
+And breathe her last in you.
+
+_AEn._ The task you undertake is hazardous:
+Suppose you win, what would the profit be?
+If Ajax or Achilles fell beneath
+Your thundering arm, would all the rest depart?
+Would Agamemnon, or his injured brother,
+Set sail for this? then it were worth your danger.
+But, as it is, we throw our utmost stake
+Against whole heaps of theirs.
+
+_Priam._ He tells you true.
+
+_AEn._ Suppose one Ajax, or Achilles lost,
+They can repair with more that single loss:
+Troy has but one, one Hector.
+
+_Hect._ No, AEneas!
+What then art thou; and what is Troilus?
+What will Astyanax be?
+
+_Priam._ An Hector one day,
+But you must let him live to be a Hector;
+And who shall make him such, when you are gone?
+Who shall instruct his tenderness in arms,
+Or give his childhood lessons of the war?
+Who shall defend the promise of his youth,
+And make it bear in manhood? the young sapling
+Is shrouded long beneath the mother-tree,
+Before it be transplanted from its earth,
+And trust itself for growth.
+
+_Hect._ Alas, my father!
+You have not drawn one reason from yourself,
+But public safety, and my son's green years:
+In this neglecting that main argument,
+Trust me you chide my filial piety;
+As if I could be won from my resolves
+By Troy, or by my son, or any name
+More dear to me than yours.
+
+_Priam._ I did not name myself, because I know
+When thou art gone, I need no Grecian sword
+To help me die, but only Hector's loss.--
+Daughter, why speak not you? why stand you silent?
+Have you no right in Hector, as a wife?
+
+_Andro._ I would be worthy to be Hector's wife:
+And had I been a man, as my soul's one,
+I had aspired a nobler name,--his friend.
+How I love Hector,--need I say I love him?--
+I am not but in him:
+But when I see him arming for his honour,
+His country and his gods, that martial fire,
+That mounts his courage, kindles even to me:
+And when the Trojan matrons wait him out
+With prayers, and meet with blessings his return,
+The pride of virtue beats within my breast,
+To wipe away the sweat and dust of war,
+And dress my hero glorious in his wounds.
+
+_Hect._ Come to my arms, thou manlier virtue, come!
+Thou better name than wife! would'st thou not blush
+To hug a coward thus?                                      [_Embrace._
+
+_Priam._ Yet still I fear!
+
+_Andro._ There spoke a woman; pardon, royal sir;
+Has he not met a thousand lifted swords
+Of thick-ranked Grecians, and shall one affright him?
+There's not a day but he encounters armies;
+And yet as safe, as if the broad-brimmed shield,
+That Pallas wears, were held 'twixt him and death.
+
+_Hect._ Thou know'st me well, and thou shalt praise me more;
+Gods make me worthy of thee!
+
+_Andro._ You shall be
+My knight this day; you shall not wear a cause
+So black as Helen's rape upon your breast.
+Let Paris fight for Helen; guilt for guilt:
+But when you fight for honour and for me,
+Then let our equal gods behold an act,
+They may not blush to crown.
+
+_Hect._ AEneas, go,
+And bear my challenge to the Grecian camp.
+If there be one amongst the best of Greece,
+Who holds his honour higher than his ease,
+Who knows his valour, and knows not his fear;
+Who loves his mistress more than in confession,
+And dares avow her beauty and her worth,
+In other arms than hers,--to him this challenge.
+I have a lady of more truth and beauty,
+Than ever Greek did compass in his arms;
+And will to-morrow, with the trumpet's call,
+Mid-way between their tents and these our walls,
+Maintain what I have said. If any come,
+My sword shall honour him; if none shall dare,
+Then shall I say, at my return to Troy,
+The Grecian dames are sun-burnt, and not worth
+The splinter of a lance.
+
+_AEn._ It shall be told them,
+As boldly as you gave it.
+
+_Priam._ Heaven protect thee!                               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Pand._ Yonder he stands, poor wretch! there stands he with such a
+look, and such a face, and such begging eyes! there he stands, poor
+prisoner!
+
+_Cress._ What a deluge of words do you pour out, uncle, to say just
+nothing?
+
+_Pand._ Nothing, do you call it! is that nothing, do you call that
+nothing? why he looks, for all the world, like one of your rascally
+malefactors, just thrown off the gibbet, with his cap down, his arms
+tied down, his feet sprunting, his body swinging. Nothing do you call
+it? this is nothing, with a vengeance!
+
+_Cress._ Or, what think you of a hurt bird, that flutters about with a
+broken wing?
+
+_Pand._ Why go to then, he cannot fly away then; then, that's certain,
+that's undoubted: there he lies to be taken up: but if you had seen
+him, when I said to him,--Take a good heart, man, and follow me; and
+fear no colours, and speak your mind, man: she can never stand you;
+she will fall, an' 'twere a leaf in autumn,--
+
+_Cress._ Did you tell him all this, without my consent?
+
+_Pand._ Why you did consent, your eyes consented; they blabbed, they
+leered, their very corners blabbed. But you'll say, your tongue said
+nothing. No, I warrant it: your tongue was wiser; your tongue was
+better bred; your tongue kept its own counsel: nay, I'll say that for
+you, your tongue said nothing.--Well, such a shamefaced couple did I
+never see, days o'my life! so 'fraid of one another; such ado to bring
+you to the business! Well, if this job were well over, if ever I lose
+my pains again with an aukward couple, let me be painted in the
+sign-post for the _labour in vain_: Fye upon't, fye upon't! there's no
+conscience in't: all honest people will cry shame on't.
+
+_Cress._ Where is this monster to be shown? what's to be given for a
+sight of him?
+
+_Pand._ Why, ready money, ready money; you carry it about you: give
+and take is square-dealing; for in my conscience he's as arrant a maid
+as you are. I was fain to use violence to him, to pull him hither: and
+he pulled, and I pulled: for you must know he's absolutely the
+strongest youth in Troy. T'other day he took Helen in one hand, and
+Paris in t'other, and danc'd 'em at one another at arms-end an' 'twere
+two moppets:--there was a back! there were bone and sinews! there was
+a back for you!
+
+_Cress._ For these good procuring offices you'll be damned one day,
+uncle.
+
+_Pand._ Who, I damned? Faith, I doubt I shall; by my troth I think I
+shall: nay if a man be damned for doing good, as thou say'st, it may
+go hard with me.
+
+_Cress._ Then I'll not see prince Troilus; I'll not be accessary to
+your damnation.
+
+_Pand._ How, not see prince Troilus? why I have engaged, I have
+promised, I have past my word. I care not for damning, let me alone
+for damning; I value not damning in comparison with my word. If I am
+damned, it shall be a good damning to thee, girl, thou shalt be my
+heir; come, 'tis a virtuous girl; thou shalt help me to keep my word,
+thou shalt see prince Troilus.
+
+_Cress._ The venture's great.
+
+_Pand._ No venture in the world; thy mother ventured it for thee, and
+thou shalt venture it for my little cousin, that must be.
+
+_Cress._ Weigh but my fears: Prince Troilus is young.--
+
+_Pand._ Marry is he; there's no fear in that, I hope: the fear were,
+if he were old and feeble.
+
+_Cress._ And I a woman.
+
+_Pand._ No fear yet; thou art a woman, and he's a man; put them
+together, put them together.
+
+_Cress._ And if I should be frail--
+
+_Pand._ There's all my fear, that thou art not frail: thou should'st
+be frail, all flesh is frail.
+
+_Cress._ Are you my uncle, and can give this counsel to your own
+brother's daughter?
+
+_Pand._ If thou wert my own daughter a thousand times over, I could do
+no better for thee; what wouldst thou have, girl? he's a prince, and a
+young prince and a loving young prince! an uncle, dost thou call me?
+by Cupid, I am a father to thee; get thee in, get thee in, girl, I
+hear him coming. And do you hear, niece! I give you leave to deny a
+little, 'twill be decent; but take heed of obstinacy, that's a vice;
+no obstinacy, my dear niece.                         [_Exit_ CRESSIDA.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Now, Pandarus.
+
+_Pand._ Now, my sweet prince! have you seen my niece? no, I know you
+have not.
+
+_Troil._ No, Pandarus; I stalk about your doors.
+Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks,
+Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
+And give me swift transportance to Elysium,
+And fly with me to Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Walk here a moment more: I'll bring her strait.
+
+_Troil._ I fear she will not come; most sure she will not.
+
+_Pand._ How, not come, and I her uncle! why, I tell you, prince, she
+twitters at you. Ah poor sweet rogue! ah, little rogue, now does she
+think, and think, and think again of what must be betwixt you two. Oh
+sweet,--oh sweet--O--what, not come, and I her uncle?
+
+_Troil._ Still thou flatter'st me; but pr'ythee flatter still; for I
+would hope; I would not wake out of my pleasing dream. Oh hope, how
+sweet thou art! but to hope always, and have no effect of what we
+hope!
+
+_Pand._ Oh faint heart, faint heart! well, there's much good matter in
+these old proverbs! No, she'll not come, I warrant her; she has no
+blood of mine in her, not so much as will fill a flea. But if she does
+not come, and come, and come with a swing into your arms--I say no
+more, but she has renounced all grace, and there's an end.
+
+_Troil._ I will believe thee: go then, but be sure.
+
+_Pand._ No, you would not have me go; you are indifferent--shall I go,
+say you? speak the word then:--yet I care not: you may stand in your
+own light, and lose a sweet young lady's heart--well, I shall not go
+then.
+
+_Troil._ Fly, fly, thou torturest me.
+
+_Pand._ Do I so, do I so? do I torture you indeed? well, I will go.
+
+_Troil._ But yet thou dost not go.
+
+_Pand._ I go immediately, directly, in a twinkling, with a thought:
+yet you think a man never does enough for you; I have been labouring
+in your business like any moyle. I was with prince Paris this morning,
+to make your excuse at night for not supping at court; and I found
+him--faith, how do you think I found him? it does my heart good to
+think how I found him: yet you think a man never does enough for you.
+
+_Troil._ Will you go then?--What's this to Cressida?
+
+_Pand._ Why, you will not hear a man! what's this to Cressida? Why, I
+found him a-bed, a-bed with Helena, by my troth: 'Tis a sweet queen, a
+sweet queen; a very sweet queen,--but she's nothing to my cousin
+Cressida; she's a blowse, a gipsy, a tawny moor to my cousin Cressida;
+and she lay with one white arm underneath the whoreson's neck: Oh such
+a white, lilly-white, round, plump arm as it was--and you must know it
+was stripped up to the elbows; and she did so kiss him, and so huggle
+him!--as who should say--
+
+_Troil._ But still thou stayest:--what's this to Cressida?
+
+_Pand._ Why, I made your excuse to your brother Paris; that I think's
+to Cressida:--but such an arm, such a hand, such taper fingers!
+t'other hand was under the bed-cloaths; that I saw not, I confess;
+that hand I saw not.
+
+_Troil._ Again thou torturest me.
+
+_Pand._ Nay, I was tortured too; old as I am, I was tortured too: but
+for all that, I could make a shift, to make him, to make your excuse,
+to make your father--by Jove, when I think of that hand, I am so
+ravished, that I know not what I say: I was tortured too.
+                                   [TROILUS _turns away discontented._
+Well, I go, I go; I fetch her, I bring her, I conduct her; not come
+quotha, and I her uncle!                             [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Troil._ I'm giddy; expectation whirls me round:
+The imaginary relish is so sweet,
+That it enchants my sense; what will it be,
+When I shall taste that nectar?
+It must be either death, or joy too fine
+For the capacity of human powers.
+I fear it much: and I do fear beside,
+That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
+As does a battle, when they charge on heaps
+A flying enemy.
+
+  _Re-enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ She's making her ready; she'll come strait: you must be witty
+now!--she does so blush, and fetches her breath so short, as if she
+were frighted with a sprite; 'tis the prettiest villain! she fetches
+her breath so short, as 'twere a new-ta'en sparrow.
+
+_Troil._ Just such a passion does heave up my breast!
+My heart beats thicker than a feverish pulse:
+I know not where I am, nor what I do;
+Just like a slave, at unawares encountering
+The eye of majesty.--Lead on, I'll follow.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_The Camp._
+
+  _Enter_ NESTOR, _and_ ULYSSES.
+
+_Ulys._ I have conceived an embryo in my brain:
+Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
+
+_Nest._ What is't, Ulysses?
+
+_Ulys._ The seeded pride,
+That has to this maturity blown up
+In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped,
+Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like ill,
+To overtop us all.
+
+_Nest._ That's my opinion.
+
+_Ulys._ This challenge which AEneas brings from Hector,
+However it be spread in general terms,
+Relates in purpose only to Achilles.
+And will it wake him to the answer, think you?
+
+_Nest._ It ought to do: whom can we else oppose,
+Who could from Hector bring his honour off,
+If not Achilles? the success of this,
+Although particular, will give an omen
+Of good or bad, even to the general cause.
+
+_Ulys._ Pardon me, Nestor, if I contradict you:
+Therefore 'tis fit Achilles meet not Hector.
+Let us, like merchants, show our coarsest wares,
+And think, perchance they'll sell; but, if they do not,
+The lustre of our better, yet unshown,
+Will show the better: let us not consent,
+Our greatest warrior should be matched with Hector;
+For both our honour and our shame in this
+Shall be attended with strange followers.
+
+_Nest._ I see them not with my old eyes; what are they?
+
+_Ulys._ What glory our Achilles gains from Hector,
+Were he not proud, we all should share with him:
+But he already is too insolent:
+And we had better parch in Afric sun,
+Than in his pride, should he 'scape Hector fair.
+But grant he should be foiled;
+Why then our common reputation suffers
+In that of our best man. No, make a lottery;
+And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
+The chance to fight with Hector: among ourselves,
+Give him allowance as the braver man;
+For that will physic the great Myrmidon,
+Who swells with loud applause; and make him fall
+His crest, if brainless Ajax come safe off:
+If not, we yet preserve a fair opinion,
+That we have better men.
+
+_Nest._ Now I begin to relish thy advice:
+Come, let us go to Agamemnon strait,
+To inform him of our project.
+
+_Ulys._ 'Tis not ripe.
+The skilful surgeon will not lance a sore,
+Till nature has digested and prepared
+The growing humours to her healing purpose;
+Else must he often grieve the patient's sense,
+When one incision, once well-timed, would serve.
+Are not Achilles and dull Ajax friends?
+
+_Nest._ As much as fools can be.
+
+_Ulys._ That knot of friendship first must be untied,
+Ere we can reach our ends; for, while they love each other,
+Both hating us, will draw too strong a bias,
+And all the camp will lean that way they draw;
+For brutal courage is the soldier's idol:
+So, if one prove contemptuous, backed by t'other,
+'Twill give the law to cool and sober sense,
+And place the power of war in madmen's hands.
+
+_Nest._ Now I conceive you; were they once divided,
+And one of them made ours, that one would check
+The other's towering growth, and keep both low,
+As instruments, and not as lords of war.
+And this must be by secret coals of envy
+Blown in their breast; comparisons of worth;
+Great actions weighed of each; and each the best,
+As we shall give him voice.
+
+_Ulys._ Here comes Thersites,
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+Who feeds on Ajax, yet loves him not, because he cannot love;
+But, as a species differing from mankind,
+Hates all he sees, and rails at all he knows;
+But hates them most from whom he most receives,
+Disdaining that his lot should be so low,
+That he should want the kindness which he takes.
+
+_Nest._ There's none so fit an engine:--Save ye, Thersites.
+
+_Ulys._ Hail, noble Grecian! thou relief of toils,
+Soul of our mirth, and joy of sullen war,
+In whose converse our winter nights are short,
+And summer days not tedious.
+
+_Thers._ Hang you both.
+
+_Nest._ How, hang us both!
+
+_Thers._ But hang thee first, thou very reverend fool!
+Thou sapless oak, that liv'st by wanting thought,
+And now, in thy three hundredth year, repin'st
+Thou shouldst be felled: hanging's a civil death,
+The death of men; thou canst not hang; thy trunk
+Is only fit for gallows to hang others.
+
+_Nest._ A fine greeting.
+
+_Thers._ A fine old dotard, to repine at hanging
+At such an age! what saw the Gods in thee,
+That a cock-sparrow should but live three years,
+And thou shouldst last three ages? he's thy better;
+He uses life; he treads himself to death.
+Thou hast forgot thy use some hundred years.
+Thou stump of man, thou worn-out broom, thou lumber!
+
+_Nest._ I'll hear no more of him, his poison works;
+What, curse me for my age!
+
+_Ulys._ Hold, you mistake him, Nestor; 'tis his custom:
+What malice is there in a mirthful scene?
+'Tis but a keen-edged sword, spread o'er with balm,
+To heal the wound it makes.
+
+_Thers._ Thou beg'st a curse?
+May'st thou quit scores then, and be hanged on Nestor,
+Who hangs on thee! thou lead'st him by the nose;
+Thou play'st him like a puppet; speak'st within him;
+And when thou hast contrived some dark design,
+To lose a thousand Greeks, make dogs-meat of us,
+Thou lay'st thy cuckoo's egg within his nest,
+And mak'st him hatch it; teachest his remembrance
+To lie, and say, the like of it was practised
+Two hundred years ago; thou bring'st the brain,
+And he brings only beard to vouch thy plots.
+
+_Nest._ I'm no man's fool.
+
+_Thers._ Then be thy own, that's worse.
+
+_Nest._ He'll rail all day.
+
+_Ulys._ Then we shall learn all day.
+Who forms the body to a graceful carriage,
+Must imitate our aukward motions first;
+The same prescription does the wise Thersites
+Apply, to mend our minds. The same he uses
+To Ajax, to Achilles, to the rest;
+His satires are the physic of the camp.
+
+_Thers._ Would they were poison to't, ratsbane and hemlock!
+Nothing else can mend you, and those two brawny fools.
+
+_Ulys._ He hits 'em right;
+Are they not such, my Nestor?
+
+_Thers._ Dolt-heads, asses,
+And beasts of burden; Ajax and Achilles!
+The pillars, no, the porters of the war.
+Hard-headed rogues! engines, mere wooden engines
+Pushed on to do your work.
+
+_Nest._ They are indeed.
+
+_Thers._ But what a rogue art thou,
+To say they are indeed! Heaven made them horses,
+And thou put'st on their harness, rid'st and spurr'st them;
+Usurp'st upon heaven's fools, and mak'st them thine.
+
+_Nest._ No; they are headstrong fools, to be corrected
+By none but by Thersites; thou alone
+Canst tame and train them to their proper use;
+And, doing this, may'st claim a just reward
+From Greece and royal Agamemnon's hands.
+
+_Thers._ Ay, when you need a man, you talk of giving,
+For wit's a dear commodity among you;
+But when you do not want him, then stale porridge,
+A starved dog would not lap, and furrow water,
+Is all the wine we taste: give drabs and pimps;
+I'll have no gifts with hooks at end of them.
+
+_Ulys._ Is this a man, O Nestor, to be bought?
+Asia's not price enough! bid the world for him.
+And shall this man, this Hermes, this Apollo,
+Sit lag of Ajax' table, almost minstrel,
+And with his presence grace a brainless feast?
+Why they con sense from him, grow wits by rote,
+And yet, by ill repeating, libel him,
+Making his wit their nonsense: nay, they scorn him;
+Call him bought railer, mercenary tongue!
+Play him for sport at meals, and kick him off.
+
+_Thers._ Yes, they can kick; my buttocks feel they can;
+They have their asses tricks; but I'll eat pebbles,
+I'll starve,--'tis brave to starve, 'tis like a soldier,--
+Before I'll feed those wit-starved rogues with sense.
+They shall eat dry, and choak for want of wit,
+Ere they be moistened with one drop of mine.
+Ajax and Achilles! two mud-walls of fool,
+That only differ in degrees of thickness.
+
+_Ulys._ I'd be revenged of both. When wine fumes high,
+Set them to prate, to boast their brutal strength,
+To vie their stupid courage, till they quarrel,
+And play at hard head with their empty skulls.
+
+_Thers._ Yes; they shall butt and kick, and all the while
+I'll think they kick for me; they shall fell timber
+On both sides, and then logwood will be cheap.
+
+_Nest._ And Agamemnon--
+
+_Thers._ Pox of Agamemnon!
+Cannot I do a mischief for myself,
+But he must thank me for't?
+
+_Ulys._ to _Nest._ Away; our work is done. [_Exeunt_ ULYS. _and_ NEST.
+
+_Thers._ This Agamemnon is a king of clouts,
+A chip in porridge,--
+
+  _Enter_ AJAX.
+
+_Ajax._ Thersites.
+
+_Thers._ Set up to frighten daws from cherry-trees,--
+
+_Ajax._ Dog!
+
+_Thers._ A standard to march under.
+
+_Ajax._ Thou bitch-wolf! can'st thou not hear? feel then.
+                                                       [_Strikes him._
+
+_Thers._ The plague of Greece, and Helen's pox light on thee,
+Thou mongrel mastiff, thou beef-witted lord!
+
+_Ajax._ Speak then, thou mouldy leaven of the camp;
+Speak, or I'll beat thee into handsomeness.
+
+_Thers._ I shall sooner rail thee into wit; thou canst kick, canst
+thou? A red murrain on thy jades tricks!
+
+_Ajax._ Tell me the proclamation.
+
+_Thers._ Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
+
+_Ajax._ You whorson cur, take that.                    [_Strikes him._
+
+_Thers._ Thou scurvy valiant ass!
+
+_Ajax._ Thou slave!
+
+_Thers._ Thou lord!--Ay, do, do,--would my buttocks were iron, for thy
+sake!
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Achil._ Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you this?
+How now, Thersites, what's the matter, man?
+
+_Thers._ I say this Ajax wears his wit in's belly, and his guts in's
+brains.
+
+_Achil._ Peace, fool.
+
+_Thers._ I would have peace, but the fool will not.
+
+_Patro._ But what's the quarrel?
+
+_Ajax._ I bade him tell me the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
+
+_Thers._ I serve thee not.
+
+_Ajax._ I shall cut out your tongue.
+
+_Thers._ 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much sense as thou
+afterwards. I'll see you hanged ere I come any more to your tent; I'll
+keep where there's wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
+                                                             [_Going._
+
+_Achil._ Nay, thou shalt not go, Thersites, till we have squeezed the
+venom out of thee: pr'ythee, inform us of this proclamation.
+
+_Thers._ Why, you empty fuz-balls, your heads are full of nothing else
+but proclamations.
+
+_Ajax._ Tell us the news, I say.
+
+_Thers._ You say! why you never said any thing in all your life. But,
+since you will know, it is proclaimed through the army, that Hector is
+to cudgel you to-morrow.
+
+_Achil._ How, cudgel him, Thersites!
+
+_Thers._ Nay, you may take a child's part on't if you have so much
+courage, for Hector has challenged the toughest of the Greeks; and it
+is in dispute which of your two heads is the soundest timber. A knotty
+piece of work he'll have betwixt your noddles.
+
+_Achil._ If Hector be to fight with any Greek,
+He knows his man.
+
+_Ajax._ Yes; he may know his man without art magic.
+
+_Thers._ So he had need; for, to my certain knowledge, neither of you
+two are conjurers to inform him.
+
+_Achil._ to _Ajax._ You do not mean yourself, sure?
+
+_Ajax._ I mean nothing.
+
+_Thers._ Thou mean'st so always.
+
+_Achil._ Umh! mean nothing!
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Jove, if it be thy will, let these two fools
+quarrel about nothing! 'tis a cause that's worthy of them.
+
+_Ajax._ You said he knew his man; is there but one?
+One man amongst the Greeks?
+
+_Achil._ Since you will have it,
+But one to fight with Hector.
+
+_Ajax._ Then I am he.
+
+_Achil._ Weak Ajax!
+
+_Ajax._ Weak Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ Weak indeed; God help you both!
+
+_Patro._ Come, this must be no quarrel.
+
+_Thers._ There's no cause for't
+
+_Patro._ He tells you true, you are both equal.
+
+_Thers._ Fools.
+
+_Achil._ I can brook no comparisons.
+
+_Ajax._ Nor I.
+
+_Achil._ Well, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ Well, Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ So, now they quarrel in monosyllables; a word and a blow,
+an't be thy will.
+
+_Achil._ You may hear more.
+
+_Ajax._ I would.
+
+_Achil._ Expect.
+
+_Ajax._ Farewell.                                 [_Exeunt severally._
+
+_Thers._ Curse on them, they want wine; your true fool will never
+fight without it. Or a drab, a drab; Oh for a commodious drab betwixt
+them! would Helen had been here! then it had come to something.
+  Dogs, lions, bulls, for females tear and gore;
+  And the beast, man, is valiant for his whore.     [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ Shall the idiot Ajax use me thus? he beats me, and I rail at
+him. O worthy satisfaction! would I could but beat him, and he railed
+at me! Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer; if Troy be not taken
+till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of
+themselves. Now the plague on the whole camp, or rather the pox; for
+that's a curse dependent on those that fight, as we do, for a
+cuckold's quean.--What, ho, my lord Achilles!
+
+  _Enter_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Patro._ Who's there, Thersites? Good Thersites, come in and rail.
+
+_Thers._ If I could have remembered an ass with gilt trappings, thou
+hadst not slipped out of my contemplation. But it is no matter:
+thyself upon thyself! the common curse of mankind, folly and
+ignorance, be thine in great abundance! Heavens bless thee from a
+tutor, and discipline come not near thee!--I have said my prayers; and
+the devil, Envy, say Amen. Where's Achilles?
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES.
+
+_Achil._ Who's there, Thersites? Why, my digestion, why hast thou not
+served thyself to my table so many meals? Come, begin; what's
+Agamemnon?
+
+_Thers._ Thy commander, Achilles.--Then tell me, Patroclus, what's
+Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ Thy benefactor, Thersites. Then tell me, pr'ythee, what's
+thyself?
+
+_Thers._ Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art
+thou?
+
+_Patro._ Thou mayest tell, that knowest.
+
+_Achil._ O, tell, tell.--This must be very foolish; and I die to have
+my spleen tickled.
+
+_Thers._ I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles;
+Achilles is my benefactor; I am Patroclus's knower; and Patroclus is a
+fool.
+
+_Patro._ You rascal!
+
+_Achil,_ He is a privileged man; proceed, Thersites. Ha, ha, ha!
+pr'ythee, proceed, while I am in the vein of laughing.
+
+_Thers._ And all these foresaid men are fools. Agamemnon's a fool, to
+offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool, to be commanded by him;
+I am a fool, to serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool positive.
+
+_Patro._ Why am I a fool?
+
+_Thers._ Make that demand to heaven; it suffices me, thou art one.
+
+_Acini._ Ha, ha, ha! O give me ribs of steel, or I shall split with
+pleasure.--Now play me Nestor at a night alarm: mimick him rarely;
+make him cough and spit, and fumble with his gorget, and shake the
+rivets with his palsy hand, in and out, in and out; gad, that's
+exceeding foolish.
+
+_Patro._ Nestor shall not escape so; he has told us what we are. Come,
+what's Nestor?
+
+_Thers._ Why, he is an old wooden top, set up by father Time three
+hundred years ago, that hums to Agamemnon and Ulysses, and sleeps to
+all the world besides.
+
+_Achil._ So let him sleep, for I'll no more of him.--O, my Patroclus,
+I but force a smile; Ajax has drawn the lot, and all the praise of
+Hector must be his.
+
+_Thers._ I hope to see his praise upon his shoulders, in blows and
+bruises; his arms, thighs, and body, all full of fame, such fame as he
+gave me; and a wide hole at last full in his bosom, to let in day upon
+him, and discover the inside of a fool.
+
+_Patro._ How he struts in expectation of honour! he knows not what he
+does.
+
+_Thers._ Nay, that's no wonder, for he never did.
+
+_Achil._ Pr'ythee, say how he behaves himself?
+
+_Thers._ O, you would be learning to practise against such another
+time?--Why, he tosses up his head as he had built castles in the air;
+and he treads upward to them, stalks into the element; he surveys
+himself, as it were to look for Ajax: he would be cried, for he has
+lost himself; nay, he knows nobody; I said, "Good-morrow, Ajax," and
+he replied, "Thanks, Agamemnon."
+
+_Achil._ Thou shalt be my ambassador to him, Thersites.
+
+_Thers._ No, I'll put on his person; let Patroclus make his demands to
+me, and you shall see the pageant of Ajax.
+
+_Achil._ To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax
+to invite the noble Hector to my tent; and to procure safe conduct for
+him from our captain general Agamemnon.
+
+_Patro._ Jove bless the mighty Ajax!
+
+_Thers._ Humh!
+
+_Patro._ I come from the great Achilles.
+
+_Thers._ Ha!
+
+_Patro._ Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent.
+
+_Thers._ Humh!
+
+_Patro._ And to procure him safe conduct from Agamemnon.
+
+_Thers._ Agamemnon?
+
+_Patro._ Ay, my lord.
+
+_Thers._ Ha!
+
+_Patro._ What say you to it?
+
+_Thers._ Farewell, with all my heart.
+
+_Patro._ Your answer, sir?
+
+_Thers._ If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one
+way or the other; however, he shall buy me dearly. Fare you well, with
+all my heart.
+
+_Achil._ Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
+
+_Thers._ No; but he's thus out of tune. What music will be in him when
+Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not, nor I care not; but if
+emptiness makes noise, his head will make melody.
+
+_Achil._ My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; And I myself
+see not the bottom on't.
+
+_Thers._ Would the fountain of his mind were clear, that he might see
+an ass in it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant
+ignorance.                                                   [_Aside._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, AJAX, DIOMEDES, _and_ MENELAUS.
+
+_Patro._ Look, who comes here.
+
+_Achil._ Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody;--come in after me,
+Thersites.                         [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ THERSITES.
+
+_Again._ Where's Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ Within, but ill disposed, my lord.
+
+_Men._ We saw him at the opening of his tent.
+
+_Again._ Let it be known to him, that we are here.
+
+_Patro._ I shall say so to him.                        [_Exit_ PATROC.
+
+_Diom._ I know he is not sick.
+
+_Ajax._ Yes, lion-sick, sick of a proud heart: you may call it
+melancholy, if you will humour him; but, on my honour, it is no more
+than pride; and why should he be proud?
+
+_Men._ Here comes Patroclus; but no Achilles with him.
+
+  _Enter_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Patro._ Achilles bids me tell you, he is sorry
+If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
+Did move you to this visit: He's not well,
+And begs you would excuse him, as unfit
+For present business.
+
+_Agam._ How! how's this, Patroclus?
+We are too well acquainted with these answers.
+Though he has much desert, yet all his virtues
+Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss.
+We came to speak with him; you shall not err,
+If you return, we think him over-proud,
+And under-honest. Tell him this; and add,
+That if he overhold his price so much,
+We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine
+Not portable, lie lag of all the camp.
+A stirring dwarf is of more use to us,
+Than is a sleeping giant: tell him so.
+
+_Patro._ I shall, and bring his answer presently.
+
+_Agam._ I'll not be satisfied, but by himself:
+So tell him, Menelaus.             [_Exeunt_ MENELAUS _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Ajax._ What's he more than another?
+
+_Agam._ No more than what he thinks himself.
+
+_Ajax._ Is he so much? Do you not think, he thinks himself a better
+man than me?
+
+_Diom._ No doubt he does.
+
+_Ajax._ Do you think so?
+
+_Agam._ No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant but much more
+courteous.
+
+_Ajax._ Why should a man be proud? I know not what pride is; I hate a
+proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
+
+_Diom._ [_Aside._] 'Tis strange he should, and love himself so well.
+
+  _Re-enter_ MENELAUS.
+
+_Men._ Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
+
+_Agam._ What's his excuse?
+
+_Men._ Why, he relies on none
+But his own will; possessed he is with vanity.
+What should I say? he is so plaguy proud,
+That the death-tokens of it are upon him,
+And bode there's no recovery.
+
+  _Enter_ ULYSSES _and_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Let Ajax go to him.
+
+_Ulys._ O Agamemnon, let it not be so.
+We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes,
+When they go from Achilles. Shall that proud man
+Be worshipped by a greater than himself,
+One, whom we hold our idol?
+Shall Ajax go to him? No, Jove forbid,
+And say in thunder, go to him, Achilles.
+
+_Nest._ [_Aside._] O, this is well; he rubs him where it itches.
+
+_Ajax._ If I go to him, with my gauntlet clenched I'll pash him o'er
+the face.
+
+_Agam._ O no, you shall not go.
+
+_Ajax._ An he be proud with me, I'll cure his pride; a paultry
+insolent fellow!
+
+_Nest._ How he describes himself!                            [_Aside._
+
+_Ulys._ The crow chides blackness: [_Aside._]--Here is a man,--but
+'tis before his face, and therefore I am silent.
+
+_Nest._ Wherefore are you? He is not envious, as Achilles is.
+
+_Ulys._ Know all the world, he is as valiant.
+
+_Ajax._ A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus with us! Would a were a
+Trojan!
+
+_Ulys._ Thank heaven, my lord, you're of a gentle nature;
+Praise him that got you, her that brought you forth;
+But he, who taught you first the use of arms,
+Let Mars divide eternity in two,
+And give him half. I will not praise your wisdom,
+Nestor shall do't; but, pardon, father Nestor,--
+Were you as green as Ajax, and your brain
+Tempered like his, you never should excel him,
+But be as Ajax is.
+
+_Ajax._ Shall I call you father?
+
+_Ulys._ Ay, my good son.
+
+_Diom._ Be ruled by him, lord Ajax.
+
+_Ulys._ There is no staying here; the hart Achilles
+Keeps thicket;--please it our great general,
+I shall impart a counsel, which, observed,
+May cure the madman's pride.
+
+_Agam._ In my own tent our talk will be more private.
+
+_Ulys._ But nothing without Ajax;
+He is the soul and substance of my counsels,
+And I am but his shadow.
+
+_Ajax._ You shall see
+I am not like Achilles.
+Let us confer, and I'll give counsel too.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS, TROILUS, _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Pand._ Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby; swear the
+oaths now to her, that you swore to me: What, are you gone again? you
+must be watched ere you are made tame, must you? Why don't you speak
+to her first?--Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture;
+alas-a-day, how loth you are to offend day-light! [_They kiss._]
+That's well, that's well; nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I
+part you. So so--so so--
+
+_Troil._ You have bereft me of all words, fair Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Words pay no debts; give her deeds.--What billing again!
+Here's, in witness whereof the parties interchangeably--come in, come
+in, you lose time both.
+
+_Troil._ O Cressida, how often have I wished me here!
+
+_Cres._ Wished, my lord!--The gods grant!--O, my lord--
+
+_Troil._ What should they grant? what makes this pretty interruption
+in thy words?
+
+_Cres._ I speak I know not what!
+
+_Troil._ Speak ever so; and if I answer you
+I know not what--it shows the more of love.
+Love is a child that talks in broken language,
+Yet then he speaks most plain.
+
+_Cres._ I find it true, that to be wise, and love,
+Are inconsistent things.
+
+_Pand._ What, blushing still! have you not done talking yet?
+
+_Cres._ Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you.
+
+_Pand._ I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give
+him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, I'll be hanged for him.--Now
+am I in my kingdom!                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ You know your pledges now; your uncle's word, and my firm
+faith.
+
+_Pand._ Nay, I'll give my word for her too: Our kindred are constant;
+they are burs, I can assure you; they'll stick where they are thrown.
+
+_Cres._ Boldness comes to me now, and I can speak:
+Prince Troilus, I have loved you long.
+
+_Troil._ Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?
+
+_Cres._ Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord--
+What have I blabbed? who will be true to us,
+When we are so unfaithful to ourselves!
+O bid me hold my tongue; for, in this rapture,
+Sure I shall speak what I should soon repent.
+But stop my mouth.
+
+_Troil._ A sweet command, and willingly obeyed.             [_Kisses._
+
+_Pand._ Pretty, i'faith!
+
+_Cres._ My lord, I do beseech you pardon me;
+'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss.
+I am ashamed;--O heavens, what have I done!
+For this time let me take my leave, my lord.
+
+_Pand._ Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning, call me Cut.
+
+_Cres._ Pray, let me go.
+
+_Troil._ Why, what offends you, madam?
+
+_Cres._ My own company.
+
+_Troil._ You cannot shun yourself.
+
+_Cres._ Let me go try;
+I have a kind of self resides in you.
+
+_Troil._ Oh that I thought truth could be in a woman,
+(As if it can, I will presume in you,)
+That my integrity and faith might meet
+The same return from her, who has my heart,
+How should I be exalted! but, alas,
+I am more plain than dull simplicity,
+And artless as the infancy of truth!
+
+_Cres._ In that I must not yield to you, my lord.
+
+_Troil._ All constant lovers shall, in future ages,
+Approve their truth by Troilus. When their verse
+Wants similes,--as turtles to their mates,
+Or true as flowing tides are to the moon,
+Earth to the centre, iron to adamant,--
+At last, when truth is tired with repetition,
+As true as Troilus, shall crown up the verse,
+And sanctify the numbers.
+
+_Cres._ Prophet may you be!
+If I am false, or swerve from truth of love,
+When Time is old, and has forgot itself
+In all things else, let it remember me;
+And, after all comparisons of falsehood,
+To stab the heart of perjury in maids,
+Let it be said--as false as Cressida.
+
+_Pand._ Go to, little ones; a bargain made. Here I hold your hand, and
+here my cousin's: if ever you prove false to one another, after I have
+taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between
+be called to the world's end after my name, _Pandars._
+
+_Cres._ And will you promise, that the holy priest
+Shall make us one for ever?
+
+_Pand._ Priests! marry hang them, they make you one! Go in, go in, and
+make yourselves one without a priest; I'll have no priest's work in my
+house.
+
+_Cres._ I'll not consent, unless you swear.
+
+_Pand._ Ay, do, do swear; a pretty woman's worth an oath at any time.
+Keep or break, as time shall try; but it is good to swear, for the
+saving of her credit. Hang them, sweet rogues, they never expect a man
+should keep it. Let him but swear, and that's all they care for.
+
+_Troil._ Heavens prosper me, as I devoutly swear,
+Never to be but yours!
+
+_Pand._ Whereupon I will lead you into a chamber; and suppose there be
+a bed in it, as, ifack, I know not, but you'll forgive me if there
+be--away, away, you naughty hildings; get you together, get you
+together. Ah you wags, do you leer indeed at one another! do the neyes
+twinkle at him! get you together, get you together. [_Leads them out._
+
+  _Enter at one Door_ AENEAS, _with a Torch; at another,_ HECTOR _and_
+  DIOMEDE, _with Torches._
+
+_Hect._ So ho, who goes there? AEneas!
+
+_AEn._ Prince Hector!
+
+_Diom._ Good-morrow, lord AEneas.
+
+_Hect._ A valiant Greek, AEneas; take his hand;
+Witness the process of your speech within;
+You told how Diomede a whole week by days
+Did haunt you in the field.
+
+_AEn._ Health to you, valiant sir,
+During all business of the gentle truce;
+But, when I meet you armed, as black defiance,
+As heart can think, or courage execute.
+
+_Diom._ Both one and t'other Diomede embraces.
+Our bloods are now in calm; and so long, health;
+But when contention and occasion meet,
+By Jove I'll play the hunter for thy life.
+
+_AEn._ And thou shall hunt a lion, that will fly
+With his face backward. Welcome, Diomede,
+Welcome to Troy. Now, by Anchises' soul,
+No man alive can love in such a sort
+The thing he means to kill more excellently.
+
+_Diom._ We know each other well.
+
+_AEn._ We do; and long to know each other worse.--
+My lord, the king has sent for me in haste;
+Know you the reason?
+
+_Hect._ Yes; his purpose meets you.
+It was to bring this Greek to Calchas' house,
+Where Pandarus his brother, and his daughter
+Fair Cressida reside; and there to render
+For our Antenor, now redeemed from prison,
+The lady Cressida.
+
+_AEn._ What! Has the king resolved to gratify
+That traitor Calchas, who forsook his country,
+And turned to them, by giving up this pledge?
+
+_Hect._ The bitter disposition of the time
+Is such, though Calchas, as a fugitive,
+Deserve it not, that we must free Antenor,
+On whose wise counsels we can most rely;
+And therefore Cressida must be returned.
+
+_AEn._ A word, my lord--Your pardon, Diomede--
+Your brother Troilus, to my certain knowledge,
+Does lodge this night in Pandarus's house.
+
+_Hect._ Go you before. Tell him of our approach,
+Which will, I fear, be much unwelcome to him.
+
+_AEn._ I assure you,
+Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
+Than Cressida from Troy.
+
+_Hect._ I know it well; and how he is, beside,
+Of hasty blood.
+
+_AEn._ He will not hear me speak;
+But I have noted long betwixt you two
+A more than brother's love; an awful homage
+The fiery youth pays to your elder virtue.
+
+_Hect._ Leave it to me; I'll manage him alone;
+Attend you Diomede.--My lord, good-morrow;                 [_To_ DIOM.
+An urgent business takes me from the pleasure
+Your company affords me; but AEneas,
+With joy, will undertake to serve you here,
+And to supply my room.
+
+_AEn._ [_To_ DIOM.] My lord, I wait you.
+                            [_Exeunt severally;_ DIOMEDE _with_ AENEAS,
+                             HECTOR _at another Door._
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS, _a Servant, Music._
+
+_Pand._ Softly, villain, softly; I would not for half Troy the lovers
+should be disturbed under my roof: listen, rogue, listen; do they
+breathe?
+
+_Serv._ Yes, sir; I hear, by some certain signs, they are both awake.
+
+_Pand._ That's as it should be; that's well o' both sides.
+[_Listens._]--Yes, 'faith, they are both alive:--There was a creak!
+there was a creak! they are both alive, and alive like;--there was a
+creak! a ha, boys!--Is the music ready?
+
+_Serv._ Shall they strike up, sir?
+
+_Pand._ Art thou sure they do not know the parties?
+
+_Serv._ They play to the man in the moon, for aught they know.
+
+_Pand._ To the man in the moon? ah rogue! do they so indeed, rogue! I
+understand thee; thou art a wag; thou art a wag. Come, towze rowze! in
+the name of love, strike up, boys.
+
+  _Music, and then a Song; during which_ PANDARUS _listens._
+
+          I.
+
+      _Can life be a blessing,
+      Or worth the possessing,
+  Can life be a blessing, if love were away?
+    Ah, no! though our love all night keep us waking,
+  And though he torment us with cares all the day,
+    Yet he sweetens, he sweetens our pains in the taking;
+  There's an hour at the last, there's an hour to repay._
+
+          II.
+
+      _In every possessing,
+      The ravishing blessing,
+  In every possessing, the fruit of our pain,
+    Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
+  Whate'er they have suffered and done to obtain;
+    'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure to sigh and to languish,
+  When we hope, when we hope to be happy again._
+
+_Pand._ Put up, and vanish; they are coming out: What a ferrup, will
+you play when the dance is done? I say, vanish.         [_Exit music._
+[_Peeping._] Good, i'faith! good, i'faith! what, hand in hand--a fair
+quarrel, well ended! Do, do, walk him, walk him;--a good girl, a
+discreet girl: I see she will make the most of him.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Troil._ Farewell, my life! leave me, and back to bed:
+Sleep seal those pretty eyes,
+And tie thy senses in as soft a band,
+As infants void of thought.
+
+_Pand._ [_Shewing himself._] How now, how now; how go matters? Hear
+you, maid, hear you; where's my cousin Cressida?
+
+_Cres._ Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle:
+You bring me to do ill, and then you jeer me!
+
+_Pand._ What ill have I brought you to do? Say what, if you dare
+now?--My lord, have I brought her to do ill?
+
+_Cres._ Come, come,--beshrew your heart, you'll neither be good
+yourself, nor suffer others.
+
+_Pand._ Alas, poor wench! alas, poor devil! Has not slept to-night?
+would a'not, a naughty man, let it sleep one twinkle? A bugbear take
+him!
+
+_Cres._ [_Knock within._]
+Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see:--
+My lord, come you again into my chamber.--
+You smile and mock, as if I meant naughtily!
+
+_Troil._ Indeed, indeed!
+
+_Cres._ Come, you're deceived; I think of no such thing.--
+                                                       [_Knock again._
+How earnestly they knock! Pray, come in: I would
+not for all Troy you were seen here.      [_Exeunt_ TROIL. _and_ CRES.
+
+_Pand._ Who's there? What's the matter?
+Will you beat down the house there!
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR.
+
+_Hect._ Good morrow, my lord Pandarus; good morrow!
+
+_Pand._ Who's there? prince Hector! What news with you so early?
+
+_Hect._ Is not my brother Troilus here?
+
+_Pand._ Here! what should he do here?
+
+_Hect._ Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him:
+It does import him much to speak with me.
+
+_Pand._ Is he here, say you? It is more than I know, I'll be sworn!
+For my part, I came in late.--What should he do here?
+
+_Hect._ Come, come, you do him wrong ere you're aware; you'll be so
+true to him, that you'll be false to him: You shall not know he's
+here; but yet go fetch him hither; go.                   [_Exit_ PAND.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+I bring you, brother, most unwelcome news;
+But since of force you are to hear it told,
+I thought a friend and brother best might tell it:
+Therefore, before I speak, arm well your mind,
+And think you're to be touched even to the quick;
+That so, prepared for ill, you may be less
+Surprised to hear the worst.
+
+_Troil._ See, Hector, what it is to be your brother!
+I stand prepared already.
+
+_Hect._ Come, you are hot;
+I know you, Troilus, you are hot and fiery:
+You kindle at a wrong, and catch it quick,
+As stubble does the flame.
+
+_Troil._ 'Tis heat of blood,
+And rashness of my youth; I'll mend that error:
+Begin, and try my temper.
+
+_Hect._ Can you think
+Of that one thing, which most could urge your anger,
+Drive you to madness, plunge you in despair,
+And make you hate even me?
+
+_Troil._ There can be nothing.
+I love you, brother, with that awful love
+I bear to heaven, and to superior virtue:
+And when I quit this love, you must be that,
+Which Hector ne'er can be.
+
+_Hect._ Remember well
+What you have said; for, when I claim your promise,
+I shall expect performance.
+
+_Troil._ I am taught:
+I will not rage.
+
+_Hect._ Nor grieve beyond a man?
+
+_Troil._ I will not be a woman.
+
+_Hect._ Do not, brother:
+And I will tell my news in terms so mild,
+So tender, and so fearful to offend,
+As mothers use to sooth their froward babes;
+Nay, I will swear, as you have sworn to me,
+That, if some gust of passion swell your soul
+To words intemperate, I will bear with you.
+
+_Troil._ What would this pomp of preparation mean?
+Come you to bring me news of Priam's death,
+Or Hecuba's?
+
+_Hect._ The gods forbid I should!
+But what I bring is nearer you, more close,
+An ill more yours.
+
+_Troil._ There is but one that can be.
+
+_Hect._ Perhaps, 'tis that.
+
+_Troil._ I'll not suspect my fate
+So far; I know I stand possessed of that.
+
+_Hect._ 'Tis well: consider at whose house I find you.
+
+_Troil._ Ha!
+
+_Hect._ Does it start you? I must wake you more;
+Antenor is exchanged.
+
+_Troil._ For whom?
+
+_Hect._ Imagine.
+
+_Troil._ It comes, like thunder grumbling in a cloud,
+Before the dreadful break: If here it fall,
+The subtle flame will lick up all my blood,
+And, in a moment, turn my heart to ashes.
+
+_Hect._ That Cressida for Antenor is exchanged,
+Because I knew 'twas harsh, I would not tell;
+Not all at once; but by degrees and glimpses
+I let it in, lest it might rush upon you,
+And quite o'erpower your soul: In this, I think,
+I showed a friend: your part must follow next;
+Which is, to curb your choler, tame your grief,
+And bear it like a man.
+
+_Troil._ I think I do,
+That I yet live to hear you. But no more;
+Hope for no more; for, should some goddess offer
+To give herself and all her heaven in change,
+I would not part with Cressida: So return
+This answer as my last.
+
+_Hect._ 'Twill not be taken:
+Nor will I bear such news.
+
+_Troil._ You bore me worse.
+
+_Hect._ Worse for yourself; not for the general state,
+And all our common safety, which depends
+On freed Antenor's wisdom.
+
+_Troil._ You would say,
+That I'm the man marked out to be unhappy,
+And made the public sacrifice for Troy.
+
+_Hect._ I would say so indeed; for, can you find
+A fate more glorious than to be that victim?
+If parting from a mistress can procure
+A nation's happiness, show me that prince
+Who dares to trust his future fame so far,
+To stand the shock of annals, blotted thus,--
+He sold his country for a woman's love!
+
+_Troil._ O, she's my life, my being, and my soul!
+
+_Hect._ Suppose she were,--which yet I will not grant,--
+You ought to give her up.
+
+_Troil._ For whom?
+
+_Hect._ The public.
+
+_Troil._ And what are they, that I should give up her,
+To make them happy? Let me tell you, brother,
+The public is the lees of vulgar slaves;
+Slaves, with the minds of slaves; so born, so bred.
+Yet such as these, united in a herd,
+Are called, the public! Millions of such cyphers
+Make up the public sum. An eagle's life
+Is worth a world of crows. Are princes made
+For such as these; who, were one soul extracted
+From all their beings, could not raise a man?--
+
+_Hect._ And what are we, but for such men as these?
+'Tis adoration, some say, makes a god:
+And who should pay it, where would be their altars,
+Were no inferior creatures here on earth?
+Even those, who serve, have their expectancies,
+Degrees of happiness, which they must share,
+Or they'll refuse to serve us.
+
+_Troil._ Let them have it;
+Let them eat, drink, and sleep; the only use
+They have of life.
+
+_Hect._ You take all these away,
+Unless you give up Cressida.
+
+_Troil._ Forbear:
+Let Paris give up Helen; she's the cause,
+And root, of all this mischief.
+
+_Hect._ Your own suffrage
+Condemns you there: you voted for her stay.
+
+_Troil._ If one must stay, the other shall not go.
+
+_Hect._ She shall not?
+
+_Troil._ Once again I say, she shall not.
+
+_Hect._ Our father has decreed it otherwise.
+
+_Troil._ No matter.
+
+_Hect._ How! no matter, Troilus?
+A king, a father's will!
+
+_Troil._ When 'tis unjust.
+
+_Hect._ Come, she shall go.
+
+_Troil._ She shall? then I am dared.
+
+_Hect._ If nothing else will do.
+
+_Troil._ Answer me first,
+And then I'll answer that,--be sure I will,--
+Whose hand sealed this exchange?
+
+_Hect._ My father's first;
+Then all the council's after.
+
+_Troil._ Was yours there?
+
+_Hect._ Mine was there too.
+
+_Troil._ Then you're no more my friend:
+And for your sake,--now mark me what I say,--
+She shall not go.
+
+_Hect._ Go to; you are a boy.
+
+_Troil._ A boy! I'm glad I am not such a man,
+Not such as thou, a traitor to thy brother;
+Nay, more, thy friend: But friend's a sacred name,
+Which none but brave and honest men should wear:
+In thee 'tis vile; 'tis prostitute; 'tis air;
+And thus, I puff it from me.
+
+_Hect._ Well, young man,
+Since I'm no friend, (and, oh, that e'er I was,
+To one so far unworthy!) bring her out;
+Or, by our father's soul, of which no part
+Did e'er descend to thee, I'll force her hence.
+
+_Troil._ I laugh at thee.
+
+_Hect._ Thou dar'st not.
+
+_Troil._ I dare more,
+If urged beyond my temper: Prove my daring,
+And see which of us has the larger share
+Of our great father's soul.
+
+_Hect._ No more!--thou know'st me.
+
+_Troil._ I do; and know myself.
+
+_Hect._ All this, ye gods!
+And for the daughter of a fugitive,
+A traitor to his country!
+
+_Troil._ 'Tis too much.
+
+_Hect._ By heaven, too little; for I think her common.
+
+_Troil._ How, common!
+
+_Hect._ Common as the tainted shambles,
+Or as the dust we tread.
+
+_Troil._ By heaven, as chaste as thy Andromache.
+                           [HECTOR _lays his hand on_ TROILUS'S _arm,_
+                            TROILUS _does the same to him._
+
+_Hect._ What, namest thou them together!
+
+_Troil._ No, I do not:
+Fair Cressida is first; as chaste as she,
+But much more fair.
+
+_Hect._ O, patience, patience, heaven!
+Thou tempt'st me strangely: should I kill thee now,
+I know not if the gods can he offended,
+Or think I slew a brother: But, begone!
+Begone, or I shall shake thee into atoms;
+Thou know'st I can.
+
+_Troil._ I care not if you could.
+
+_Hect._ [_walking off._]
+I thank the gods, for calling to my mind
+My promise, that no words of thine should urge me
+Beyond the bounds of reason: But in thee
+'Twas brutal baseness, so forewarned, to fall
+Beneath the name of man; to spurn my kindness;
+And when I offered thee (thou know'st how loth!)
+The wholesome bitter cup of friendly counsel,
+To dash it in my face. Farewell, farewell,
+Ungrateful as thou art: hereafter use
+The name of brother; but of friend no more.              [_Going out._
+
+_Troil._ Wilt thou not break yet, heart?--stay, brother, stay;
+I promised too, but I have broke my vow,
+And you keep yours too well.
+
+_Hect._ What would'st thou more?
+Take heed, young man, how you too far provoke me!
+For heaven can witness, 'tis with much constraint
+That I preserve my faith.
+
+_Troil._ Else you would kill me?
+
+_Hect._ By all the gods I would.
+
+_Troil._ I'm satisfied.
+You have condemned me, and I'll do't myself.
+What's life to him, who has no use of life?
+A barren purchase, held upon hard terms!
+For I have lost (oh, what have I not lost!)
+The fairest, dearest, kindest, of her sex;
+And lost her even by him, by him, ye gods!
+Who only could, and only should protect me!
+And if I had a joy beyond that love,
+A friend, have lost him too!
+
+_Hect._ Speak that again,--
+For I could hear it ever,--saidst thou not,
+That if thou hadst a joy beyond that love,
+It was a friend? O, saidst thou not, a friend!
+That doubting _if_ was kind: then thou'rt divided;
+And I have still some part.
+
+_Troil._ If still you have,
+You do not care to have it.
+
+_Hect._ How, not care!
+
+_Troil._ No, brother, care not.
+
+_Hect._ Am I but thy brother?
+
+_Troil._ You told me, I must call you friend no more.
+
+_Hect._ How far my words were distant from my heart!
+Know, when I told thee so, I loved thee most.
+Alas! it is the use of human frailty,
+To fly to worst extremities with those,
+To whom we are most kind.
+
+_Troil._ Is't possible!
+Then you are still my friend.
+
+_Hect._ Heaven knows I am!
+
+_Troil._ And can forgive the sallies of my passion?
+For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame;
+Have said such words, nay, done such actions too,
+(Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul
+Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye
+On him I have offended.
+
+_Hect._ Peace be to thee,
+And calmness ever there. I blame thee not:
+I know thou lov'st; and what can love not do!
+I cast the wild disorderly account,
+Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion:
+I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.
+
+_Troil._ Do, for I need it: Let me lean my head
+Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there;
+Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!
+
+_Hect._ Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth,
+One who deserved thy love!
+
+_Troil._ Did she deserve?
+
+_Hect._ She did.
+
+_Troil._ Then sure she was no common creature?
+
+_Hect._ I said it in my rage; I thought not so.
+
+_Troil._ That thought has blessed me! But to lose this love,
+After long pains, and after short possession!
+
+_Hect._ I feel it for thee: Let me go to Priam,
+I'll break this treaty off; or let me fight:
+I'll be thy champion, and secure both her,
+And thee, and Troy.
+
+_Troil._ It must not be, my brother;
+For then your error would be more than mine:
+I'll bring her forth, and you shall bear her hence;
+That you have pitied me is my reward.
+
+_Hect._ Go, then; and the good gods restore her to thee,
+And, with her, all the quiet of thy mind!
+The triumph of this kindness be thy own;
+  And heaven and earth this testimony yield,
+  That friendship never gained a nobler field.    [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS _and_ CRESSIDA _meeting._
+
+_Pand._ Is't possible? no sooner got but lost?
+The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad:
+A plague upon Antenor! would they had broke his neck!
+
+_Cres._ How now? what's the matter? Who was here?
+
+_Pand._ Oh, oh!
+
+_Cres._ Why sigh you so? O, where's my Troilus?
+Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter?
+
+_Pand._ Would I were as deep under the earth, as
+I am above it!
+
+_Cres._ O, the gods! What's the matter?
+
+_Pand._ Pr'ythee get thee in; would thou hadst never been born!
+I knew thou wouldst be his death; oh, poor gentleman!
+A plague upon Antenor!
+
+_Cres._ Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, tell me what's the
+matter?
+
+_Pand._ Thou must be gone, girl; thou must be gone, to the fugitive
+rogue-priest, thy father: (and he's my brother too; but that's all one
+at this time:) A pox upon Antenor!
+
+_Cres._ O, ye immortal gods! I will not go.
+
+_Pand._ Thou must, thou must.
+
+_Cres._ I will not: I have quite forgot my father.
+I have no touch of birth, no spark of nature,
+No kin, no blood, no life; nothing so near me,
+As my dear Troilus!
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Pand._ Here, here, here he comes, sweet duck!
+
+_Cres._ O, Troilus, Troilus!         [_They both weep over each other;
+                                      she running into his arms._
+
+_Pand._ What a pair of spectacles is here! let me embrace too. _Oh,
+heart,_--as the saying is,--
+    _--o heart, o heavy heart,
+    Why sigh'st thou without breaking!_
+Where he answers again,
+  _Because thou can'st not ease thy smart,
+    By friendship nor by speaking._
+There was never a truer rhyme: let us cast away nothing, for we may
+live to have need of such a verse; we see it, we see it.--How now,
+lambs?
+
+_Troil._ Cressid, I love thee with so strange a purity,
+That the blest gods, angry with my devotions,
+More bright in zeal than that I pay their altars,
+Will take thee from my sight.
+
+_Cres._ Have the gods envy?
+
+_Pand._ Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case!
+
+_Cres._ And is it true, that I must go from Troy?
+
+_Troil._ A hateful truth.
+
+_Cres._ What, and from Troilus too?
+
+_Troil._ From Troy and Troilus,--and suddenly;
+So suddenly, 'tis counted out by minutes.
+
+_Cres._ What, not an hour allowed for taking leave?
+
+_Troil._ Even that's bereft us too: Our envious fates
+Jostle betwixt, and part the dear adieus
+Of meeting lips, clasped hands, and locked embraces.
+
+_AEneas._ [_Within._] My lord, is the lady ready yet?
+
+_Troil._ Hark, you are called!--Some say, the genius so
+Cries,--Come, to him who instantly must die.
+
+_Pand._ Where are my tears? some rain to lay this wind,
+Or my heart will be blown up by the roots!
+
+_Troil._ Hear me, my love! be thou but true, like me.
+
+_Cres._ I true! how now, what wicked thought is this?
+
+_Troil._ Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
+For it is parting from us.
+I spoke not, be thou true, as fearing thee;
+But be thou true, I said, to introduce
+My following protestation,--be thou true,
+And I will see thee.
+
+_Cres._ You'll be exposed to dangers.
+
+_Troil._ I care not; but be true.
+
+_Cres._ Be true, again?
+
+_Troil._ Hear why I speak it, love.
+The Grecian youths are full of Grecian arts:
+Alas! a kind of holy jealousy,
+Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
+Makes me afraid how far you may be tempted.
+
+_Cres._ O heavens, you love me not!
+
+_Troil._ Die I a villain then!
+In this I do not call your faith in question,
+But my own merit.
+
+_Cres._ Fear not; I'll be true.
+
+_Troil._ Then, fate, thy worst! for I will see thee, love;
+Not all the Grecian host shall keep me out,
+Nor Troy, though walled with fire, should hold me in.
+
+_AEneas._ [_Within._] My lord, my lord Troilus! I must call you.
+
+_Pand._ A mischief call him! nothing but screech-owls? do, do, call
+again; you had best part them now in the sweetness of their
+love!--I'll be hanged if this AEneas be the son of Venus, for all his
+bragging. Honest Venus was a punk; would she have parted lovers? no,
+he has not a drop of Venus' blood in him--honest Venus was a punk.
+
+_Troil._ [_To Pand._] Pr'ythee, go out, and gain one minute more.
+
+_Pand._ Marry and I will: follow you your business; lose no time, 'tis
+very precious; go, bill again: I'll tell the rogue his own, I warrant
+him.                                                 [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Cres._ What have we gained by this one minute more?
+
+_Troil._ Only to wish another, and another,
+A longer struggling with the pangs of death.
+
+_Cres._ O, those, who do not know what parting is,
+Can never learn to die!
+
+_Troil._ When I but think this sight may be our last,
+If Jove could set me in the place of Atlas,
+And lay the weight of heaven and gods upon me,
+He could not press me more.
+
+_Cres._ Oh let me go, that I may know my grief;
+Grief is but guessed, while thou art standing by:
+But I too soon shall know what absence is.
+
+_Troil._ Why, 'tis to be no more; another name for death:
+'Tis the sun parting from the frozen north;
+And I, methinks, stand on some icy cliff,
+To watch the last low circles that he makes,
+'Till he sink down from heaven! O only Cressida,
+If thou depart from me, I cannot live:
+I have not soul enough to last for grief,
+But thou shalt hear what grief has done with me.
+
+_Cres._ If I could live to hear it, I were false.
+But, as a careful traveller, who, fearing
+Assaults of robbers, leaves his wealth behind,
+I trust my heart with thee; and to the Greeks
+Bear but an empty casket.
+
+_Troil._ Then I will live, that I may keep that treasure;
+And, armed with this assurance, let thee go,
+Loose, yet secure as is the gentle hawk,
+When, whistled off, she mounts into the wind.
+Our love's like mountains high above the clouds;
+Though winds and tempests beat their aged feet,
+Their peaceful heads nor storm nor thunder know,
+But scorn the threatening rack that rolls below.            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS _standing in their tent._--ULYSSES
+  AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, NESTOR, _and_ AJAX, _passing over the stage._
+
+_Ulys._ Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent:
+Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
+As if he were forgot; and, princes all,
+Look on him with neglectful eyes and scorn:
+Pride must be cured by pride.
+
+_Agam._ We'll execute your purpose, and put on
+A form of strangeness as we pass along;
+So do each prince; either salute him not,
+Or else disdainfully, which will shake him more
+Than if not looked on. I will lead the way.
+
+_Achil._ What, comes the general to speak with me?
+You know my mind; I'll fight no more with Troy.
+
+_Agam._ What says Achilles? would he aught with us?
+
+_Nest._ Would you, my lord, aught with the general?
+
+_Achil._ No.
+
+_Nest._ Nothing, my lord.
+
+_Agam._ The better.
+
+_Menel._ How do you, how do you?
+
+_Achil._ What, does the cuckold scorn me!
+
+_Ajax._ How now, Patroclus?
+
+_Achil._ Good morrow, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ Ha!
+
+_Achil._ Good morrow.
+
+_Ajax._ Ay; and good next day too.
+                           [_Exeunt all but_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Achil._ What mean these fellows? know they not Achilles?
+
+_Patro._ They pass by strangely; they were used to bow,
+And send their smiles before them to Achilles;
+To come as humbly as they used to creep
+To holy altars.
+
+_Achil._ Am I poor of late?
+'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
+Must fall out with men too: what the declined is,
+He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
+As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
+Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.
+
+_Patro._ 'Tis known you are in love with Hector's sister,
+And therefore will not fight; and your not fighting
+Draws on you this contempt. I oft have told you,
+A woman, impudent and mannish grown,
+Is not more loathed than an effeminate man,
+In time of action: I am condemned for this:
+They think my little appetite to war
+Deads all the fire in you; but rouse yourself,
+And love shall from your neck unloose his folds;
+Or, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane,
+Be shaken into air.
+
+_Achil._ Shall Ajax fight with Hector?
+
+_Patro._ Yes, and perhaps shall gain much honour by him.
+
+_Achil._ I see my reputation is at stake.
+
+_Patro._ O then beware; those wounds heal ill, that men
+Have given themselves, because they give them deepest.
+
+_Achil._ I'll do something;
+But what I know not yet.--No more; our champion.
+
+  _Re-enter_ AJAX, AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDE,
+  _Trumpet._
+
+_Agam._ Here art thou, daring combat, valiant Ajax.
+Give, with thy trumpet, a loud note to Troy,
+Thou noble champion, that the sounding air
+May pierce the ears of the great challenger,
+And call him hither.
+
+_Ajax._ Trumpet, take that purse:
+Now crack thy lungs, and split the sounding brass;
+Thou blow'st for Hector.
+                       [_Trumpet sounds, and is answered from within._
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR, AENEAS, _and other Trojans._
+
+_Agam._ Yonder comes the troop.
+
+_AEn._ [_Coming to the Greeks._]
+Health to the Grecian lords:--What shall be done
+To him that shall be vanquished? or do you purpose
+A victor should be known? will you, the knights
+Shall to the edge of all extremity
+Pursue each other, or shall be divided
+By any voice or order of the field?
+Hector bade ask.
+
+_Agam._ Which way would Hector have it?
+
+_AEn._ He cares not, he'll obey conditions.
+
+_Achil._ 'Tis done like Hector, but securely done;
+A little proudly, and too much despising
+The knight opposed; he might have found his match.
+
+_AEn._ If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?
+
+_Achil._ If not Achilles, nothing.
+
+_AEn._ Therefore Achilles; but whoe'er, know this;
+Great Hector knows no pride: weigh him but well,
+And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy.
+This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood,
+In love whereof half Hector stays at home.
+
+_Achil._ A maiden battle? I perceive you then.
+
+_Agam._ Go, Diomede, and stand by valiant Ajax;
+As you and lord AEneas shall consent,
+So let the fight proceed, or terminate.
+                      [_The trumpets sound on both sides, while_ AENEAS
+                       _and_ DIOMEDE _take their places, as Judges of
+                       the field. The Trojans and Grecians rank
+                       themselves on either side._
+
+_Ulys._ They are opposed already.
+                       [_Fight equal at first, then_ AJAX _has_ HECTOR
+                        _at disadvantage; at last_ HECTOR _closes,_
+                        AJAX _falls on one knee,_ HECTOR _stands over
+                        him, but strikes not, and_ AJAX _rises._
+
+_AEn._ [_Throwing his gauntlet betwixt them._]
+Princes, enough; you have both shown much valour.
+
+_Diom._ And we, as judges of the field, declare,
+The combat here shall cease.
+
+_Ajax,_ I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
+
+_AEn._ Then let it be as Hector shall determine.
+
+_Hect._ If it be left to me, I will no more.--
+Ajax, thou art my aunt Hesione's son;
+The obligation of our blood forbids us.
+But, were thy mixture Greek and Trojan so,
+That thou couldst say, this part is Grecian all,
+And this is Trojan,--hence thou shouldst not bear
+One Grecian limb, wherein my pointed sword
+Had not impression made. But heaven forbid
+That any drop, thou borrowest from my mother,
+Should e'er be drained by me: let me embrace thee, cousin.
+By him who thunders, thou hast sinewy arms:
+Hector would have them fall upon him thus:--               [_Embrace._
+Thine be the honour, Ajax.
+
+_Ajax._ I thank thee, Hector;
+Thou art too gentle, and too free a man.
+I came to kill thee, cousin, and to gain
+A great addition from that glorious act:
+But thou hast quite disarmed me.
+
+_Hect._ I am glad;
+For 'tis the only way I could disarm thee.
+
+_Ajax._ If I might in intreaty find success,
+I would desire to see thee at my tent.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles;
+Both long to see the valiant Hector there.
+
+_Hect._ AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me;
+And you two sign this friendly interview.
+                                    [AGAMEMNON, _and the chief of both
+                                     sides approach._
+
+_Agam._ [_To HECT._]
+Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one,
+Who would be rid of such an enemy.--
+[_To_ TROIL.] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.
+
+_Nest._ I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often,
+Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
+Through ranks of Grecian youth; and I have seen thee
+As swift as lightning spur thy Phrygian steed,
+And seen thee scorning many forfeit lives,
+When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air,
+Not letting it decline on prostrate foes;
+That I have said to all the standers-by,
+Lo, Jove is yonder, distributing life.
+
+_Hect._ Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
+Who hast so long walked hand in hand with time:
+Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
+
+_Ulys._ I wonder now, how yonder city stands,
+When we have here her base and pillar by us.
+
+_Hect._ I know your count'nance, lord Ulysses, well.
+Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
+Since first I saw yourself and Diomede
+In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.
+
+_Achil._ Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee;
+I have with exact view perused thee, Hector,
+And quoted joint by joint.
+
+_Hect._ Is this Achilles?
+
+_Achil._ I am Achilles.
+
+_Hect._ Stand fair, I pr'ythee, let me look on thee.
+
+_Achil._ Behold thy fill.
+
+_Hect._ Nay, I have done already.
+
+_Achil._ Thou art too brief. I will, the second time,
+As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
+
+_Hect._ O, like a book of sport, thou read'st me o'er;
+But there's more in me than thou understand'st.
+
+_Achil._ Tell me, ye heavens, in which part of his body
+Shall I destroy him? there, or there, or there?
+That I may give the imagined wound a name,
+And make distinct the very breach, whereout
+Hector's great spirit flew! answer me, heavens!
+
+_Hect._ Wert thou an oracle to tell me this,
+I'd not believe thee; henceforth guard thee well,
+I'll kill thee every where.
+Ye noble Grecians, pardon me this boast;
+His insolence draws folly from my lips;
+But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
+Else may I never--
+
+_Ajax._ Do not chafe thee, cousin;--
+And you, Achilles, let these threats alone;
+You may have every day enough of Hector,
+If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
+Can scarce intreat you to perform your boast.
+
+_Hect._ I pray you, let us see you in the field;
+We have had pelting wars, since you refused
+The Grecian cause.
+
+_Achil._ Do'st thou entreat me, Hector?
+To-morrow will I meet thee, fierce as death;
+To-night, all peace.
+
+_Hect._ Thy hand upon that match.
+
+_Agam._ First, all you Grecian princes, go with me,
+And entertain great Hector; afterwards,
+As his own leisure shall concur with yours,
+You may invite him to your several tents.
+                              [_Exeunt_ AGAM. HECT. MENEL. NEST. DIOM.
+                               _together._
+
+_Troil._ My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
+In what part of the field does Calchas lodge?
+
+_Ulys._ At Menelaus' tent:
+There Diomede does feast with him to-night;
+Who neither looks on heaven or on earth,
+But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
+On Cressida alone.
+
+_Troil._ Shall I, brave lord, be bound to you so much,
+After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
+To bring me thither?
+
+_Ulys._ I shall wait on you.
+As freely tell me, of what honour was
+This Cressida in Troy? had she no lovers there,
+Who mourn her absence?
+
+_Troil._ O sir, to such as boasting show their scars,
+Reproof is due: she loved and was beloved;
+That's all I must impart. Lead on, my lord.
+                                      [_Exeunt_ ULYSSES _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Achil._ [_To_ PATRO.]
+I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night,
+Which with my sword I mean to cool to-morrow.
+Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Patro._ Here comes Thersites.
+
+_Achil._ How now, thou core of envy,
+Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, thou idol of ideot
+worshippers, there's a letter for thee.
+
+_Achil._ From whence, fragment?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
+
+_Patro._ Well said, adversity! what makes thee so keen to-day?
+
+_Thers._ Because a fool's my whetstone.
+
+_Patro._ Meaning me?
+
+_Thers._ Yes, meaning thy no meaning; pr'ythee, be silent, boy, I
+profit not by thy talk. Now the rotten diseases of the south,
+gut-gripings, ruptures, catarrhs, loads of gravel in the back,
+lethargies, cold palsies, and the like, take thee, and take thee
+again! thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a
+prodigal's purse, thou! Ah how the poor world is pestered with such
+water-flies, such diminutives of nature!
+
+_Achil._ My dear Patroclus, I am quite prevented
+From my great purpose, bent on Hector's life.
+Here is a letter from my love Polyxena,
+Both taxing and engaging me to keep
+An oath that I have sworn; and will not break it
+To save all Greece. Let honour go or stay,
+There's more religion in my love than fame.
+                                   [_Exeunt_ ACHILLES _and_ PATROCLUS.
+
+_Thers._ With too much blood, and too little brain, these two are
+running mad before the dog-days. There's Agamemnon, too, an honest
+fellow enough, and loves a brimmer heartily; but he has not so much
+brains as an old gander. But his brother Menelaus, there's a fellow!
+the goodly transformation of Jupiter when he loved Europa; the
+primitive cuckold; a vile monkey tied eternally to his brother's
+tail,--to be a dog, a mule, a cat, a toad, an owl, a lizard, a herring
+without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire
+against destiny.--Hey day! Will with a Wisp, and Jack a Lanthorn!
+
+  HECTOR, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, DIOMEDE, ULYSSES, TROILUS, _going with
+  Torches over the Stage._
+
+_Agam._ We go wrong, we go wrong.
+
+_Ajax._ No, yonder 'tis; there, where we see the light.
+
+_Hect._ I trouble you.
+
+_Ajax._ Not at all, cousin; here comes Achilles himself, to guide us.
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES.
+
+_Achil._ Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all.
+
+_Agam._ So now, brave prince of Troy, I take my leave; Ajax commands
+the guard to wait on you.
+
+_Men._ Good night, my lord.
+
+_Hect._ Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Sweet, quotha! Sweet sink, sweet sewer, sweet
+jakes!
+
+_Achil._ Nestor will stay; and you, lord Diomede,
+Keep Hector company an hour or two.
+
+_Diom._ I cannot, sir; I have important business.
+
+_Achil._ Enter, my lords.
+
+_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Follow his torch: he goes to Calchas's tent.
+                       [_Exeunt_ ACHIL. HECT. AJAX, _one way;_ DIOMEDE
+                        _another; and after him_ ULYSSES
+                        _and_ TROILUS.
+
+_Thers._ This Diomede's a false-hearted rogue, an unjust knave; I will
+no more trust him when he winks with one eye, than I will a serpent
+when he hisses. He will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler
+the hound; but when he performs, astronomers set it down for a
+prodigy: though I long to see Hector, I cannot forbear dogging him.
+They say he keeps a Trojan drab; and uses Calchas's tent, that
+fugitive priest of Troy, that canonical rogue of our side. I'll after
+him; nothing but whoring in this age; all incontinent rascals!
+                                                    [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+  _Enter_ CALCHAS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Calch._ O, what a blessing is a virtuous child!
+Thou has reclaimed my mind, and calmed my passions
+Of anger and revenge; my love to Troy
+Revives within me, and my lost tiara
+No more disturbs my mind.
+
+_Cres._ A virtuous conquest!
+
+_Calch._ I have a woman's longing to return;
+But yet which way, without your aid, I know not.
+
+_Cres._ Time must instruct us how.
+
+_Calch._ You must dissemble love to Diomede still:
+False Diomede, bred in Ulysses' school,
+Can never be deceived,
+But by strong arts and blandishments of love.
+Put them in practice all; seem lost and won,
+And draw him on, and give him line again.
+This Argus then may close his hundred eyes,
+And leave our flight more easy.
+
+_Cres._ How can I answer this to love and Troilus?
+
+_Calch._ Why, 'tis for him you do it; promise largely;
+That ring he saw you wear, he much suspects
+Was given you by a lover; let him have it.
+
+_Diom._ [_Within._] Ho, Calchas, Calchas!
+
+_Calch._ Hark! I hear his voice.
+Pursue your project; doubt not the success.
+
+_Cres._ Heaven knows, against my will; and yet my hopes,
+This night to meet my Troilus, while 'tis truce,
+Afford my mind some ease.
+
+_Calch._ No more: retire.                            [_Exit_ CRESSIDA.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE: TROILUS _and_ ULYSSES _appear listening at one
+  Door, and_ THERSITES _watching at another._
+
+_Diom._ I came to see your daughter, worthy Calchas.
+
+_Calch._ My lord, I'll call her to you.               [_Exit_ CALCHAS.
+
+_Ulys._ [_To_ TROIL.] Stand where the torch may not discover us.
+
+  _Enter_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Troil._ Cressida comes forth to him!
+
+_Diom._ How now, my charge?
+
+_Cres._ Now, my sweet guardian; hark, a word with you.     [_Whisper._
+
+_Troil._ Ay, so familiar!
+
+_Diom._ Will you remember?
+
+_Cres._ Remember? yes.
+
+_Troil._ Heavens, what should she remember! Plague and madness!
+
+_Ulys._ Prince, you are moved: let us depart in time,
+Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
+To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
+The time unlit: beseech you, let us go.
+
+_Troil._ I pray you stay; by hell, and by hell's torments, I will not
+speak a word.
+
+_Diom._ I'll hear no more: good night.
+
+_Cres._ Nay, but you part in anger!
+
+_Troil._ Does that grieve thee? O withered truth!
+
+_Diom._ Farewell, cozener.
+
+_Cres._ Indeed I am not: pray, come back again.
+
+_Ulys._ You shake, my lord, at something: will you go?
+You will break out.
+
+_Troil._ By all the gods I will not.
+There is, between my will and all my actions,
+A guard of patience: stay a little while.
+
+_Thers._ [_aside._] How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, and
+potato-finger, tickles these together!--Put him off a little, you
+foolish harlot! 'twill sharpen him the more.
+
+_Diom._ But will you then?
+
+_Cres._ I will, as soon as e'er the war's concluded.
+
+_Diom_ Give me some token, for the surety of it;
+The ring I saw you wear.
+
+_Cres._ [_Giving it._] If you must have it.
+
+_Troil._ The ring? nay, then, 'tis plain! O beauty, where's thy faith!
+
+_Ulys._ You have sworn patience.
+
+_Thers._ That's well, that's well, the pledge is given; hold her to
+her word, good devil, and her soul's thine, I warrant thee.
+
+_Diom._ Whose was't?
+
+_Cres._ By all Diana's waiting train of stars,
+And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
+
+_Diom._ Why then thou lov'st him still: farewell for ever:
+Thou never shalt mock Diomede again.
+
+_Cres._ You shall not go: one cannot speak a word,
+But straight it starts you.
+
+_Diom._ I do not like this fooling.
+
+_Thers._ Nor I, by Pluto: but that, which likes not you, pleases me
+best.
+
+_Diom._ I shall expect your promise.
+
+_Cres._ I'll perform it.
+Not a word more, good night--I hope for ever:
+Thus to deceive deceivers is no fraud.                       [_Aside._
+                         [_Exeunt_ DIOMEDE _and_ CRESSIDA _severally._
+
+_Ulys._ All's done, my lord.
+
+_Troil_ Is it?
+
+_Ulys._ Pray let us go.
+
+_Troil._ Was Cressida here?
+
+_Ulys._ I cannot conjure, Trojan.
+
+_Troil._ She was not, sure! she was not;
+Let it not be believed, for womanhood:
+Think we had mothers, do not give advantage
+To biting satire, apt without a theme
+For defamation, to square all the sex
+By Cressid's rule; rather think this not Cressida.
+
+_Thers._ Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes?
+
+_Troil._ This she! no, this was Diomede's Cressida.
+If beauty have a soul, this is not she:--
+I cannot speak for rage;--that ring was mine:--
+By heaven I gave it, in that point of time,
+When both our joys were fullest!--If he keeps it,
+Let dogs eat Troilus.
+
+_Thers._ He'll tickle it for his concupy: this will be sport to see!
+Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore; a
+parrot will not do more for an almond, than he will for a commodious
+drab:--I would I could meet with this rogue Diomede too: I would croak
+like a raven to him; I would bode: it shall go hard but I'll find him
+out.                                                [_Exit_ THERSITES.
+
+  _Enter_ AENEAS.
+
+_AEn._ I have been seeking you this hour, my lord:
+Hector by this is arming him in Troy.
+
+_Ulys._ Commend me, gallant Troilus, to your brother:
+Tell him, I hope he shall not need to arm;
+The fair Polyxena has, by a letter,
+Disarmed our great Achilles of his rage.
+
+_Troil._ This I shall say to Hector.
+
+_Ulys._ So I hope.
+Pray heaven Thersites have informed me true!--               [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ Good night, my lord; accept distracted thanks!
+                                                      [_Exit_ ULYSSES.
+
+  _Enter_ PANDARUS.
+
+_Pand._ Hear ye, my lord, hear ye; I have been seeing yon poor girl.
+There have been old doings there, i'faith.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._]
+Hold yet, my spirits: let him pour it in:
+The poison's kind: the more I drink of it,
+The sooner 'twill dispatch me.
+
+_AEn._ to _Pand._ Peace, thou babbler!
+
+_Pand._ She has been mightily made on by the Greeks: she takes most
+wonderfully among 'em. Achilles kissed her, and Patroclus kissed her:
+nay, and old Nestor put aside his grey beard, and brushed her with his
+whiskers. Then comes me Agamemnon with his general's staff, diving
+with a low bow even to the ground, and rising again, just at her lips:
+and after him came Ulysses, and Ajax, and Menelaus: and they so pelted
+her, i'faith, pitter patter, pitter patter, as thick as hail-stones.
+And after that, a whole rout of 'em: never was a woman in Phrygia
+better kissed.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hector said true: I find, I find it now!
+
+_Pand._ And, last of all, comes me Diomede, so demurely: that's a
+notable sly rogue, I warrant him! mercy upon us, how he laid her on
+upon the lips! for, as I told you, she's most mightily made on among
+the Greeks. What, cheer up, I say, man! she has every one's good word.
+I think, in my conscience, she was born with a caul upon her head.
+
+_Troil._ [_Aside._] Hell, death, confusion, how he tortures me!
+
+_Pand._ And that rogue-priest, my brother, is so courted and treated
+for her sake: the young sparks do so pull him about, and haul him by
+the cassock: nothing but invitations to his tent, and his tent, and
+his tent. Nay, and one of 'em was so bold, as to ask him, if she were
+a virgin; and with that, the rogue, my brother, takes me up a little
+god in his hand, and kisses it, and swears devoutly that she was; then
+was I ready to burst my sides with laughing, to think what had passed
+betwixt you two.
+
+_Troil._ O I can bear no more! she's falsehood all:
+False by both kinds; for with her mother's milk
+She sucked the infusion of her father's soul.
+She only wants an opportunity;
+Her soul's a whore already.
+
+_Pand._ What, would you make a monopoly of a woman's lips? a little
+consolation, or so, might be allowed, one would think, in a lover's
+absence.
+
+_Troil._ Hence from my sight!
+Let ignominy brand thy hated name;
+Let modest matrons at thy mention start;
+And blushing virgins, when they read our annals,
+Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend,
+And blots the noble work.
+
+_Pand._ O world, world: thou art an ungrateful patch of earth! Thus
+the poor agent is despised! he labours painfully in his calling, and
+trudges between parties: but when their turns are served, come out's
+too good for him. I am mighty melancholy. I'll e'en go home, and shut
+up my doors, and die o' the sullens, like an old bird in a cage!
+                                                     [_Exit_ PANDARUS.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE _and_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] There, there he is; now let it work: now play thy
+part, jealousy, and twinge 'em: put 'em between thy mill-stones, and
+grind the rogues together.
+
+_Diom._ My lord, I am by Ajax sent to inform you,
+This hour must end the truce.
+
+_AEn._ to _Troil._ Contain yourself:
+Think where we are.
+
+_Diom._ Your stay will be unsafe.
+
+_Troil._ It may, for those I hate.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said, Trojan: there's the first hit.
+
+_Diom._ Beseech you, sir, make haste; my own affairs call me another
+way.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] What affairs? what affairs? demand that,
+dolt-head! the rogue will lose a quarrel, for want of wit to ask that
+question.
+
+_Troil._ May I enquire where your affairs conduct you?
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Well said again; I beg thy pardon.
+
+_Diom._ Oh, it concerns you not.
+
+_Troil._ Perhaps it does.
+
+_Diom._ You are too inquisitive: nor am I bound
+To satisfy an enemy's request.
+
+_Troil._ You have a ring upon your finger, Diomede,
+And given you by a lady.
+
+_Diom._ If it were,
+'Twas given to one that can defend her gift.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] So, so; the boars begin to gruntle at one another:
+set up your bristles now, a'both sides: whet and foam, rogues.
+
+_Troil._ You must restore it, Greek, by heaven you must;
+No spoil of mine shall grace a traitor's hand:
+And, with it, give me back the broken vows
+Of my false fair; which, perjured as she is,
+I never will resign, but with my soul.
+
+_Diom._ Then thou, it seems, art that forsaken fool,
+Who, wanting merit to preserve her heart,
+Repines in vain to see it better placed;
+But know, (for now I take a pride to grieve thee)
+Thou art so lost a thing in her esteem,
+I never heard thee named, but some scorn followed:
+Thou wert our table-talk for laughing meals;
+Thy name our sportful theme for evening-walks,
+And intermissive hours of cooler love,
+When hand in hand we went.
+
+_Troil._ Hell and furies!
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] O well stung, scorpion!
+Now Menelaus's Greek horns are out o' doors, there's a new cuckold
+starts up on the Trojan side.
+
+_Troil._ Yet this was she, ye gods, that very she,
+Who in my arms lay melting all the night;
+Who kissed and sighed, and sighed and kissed again,
+As if her soul flew upward to her lips,
+To meet mine there, and panted at the passage;
+Who, loth to find the breaking day, looked out,
+And shrunk into my bosom, there to make
+A little longer darkness.
+
+_Diom._ Plagues and tortures!
+
+_Thers._ Good, good, by Pluto! their fool's mad, to lose his harlot;
+and our fool's mad, that t'other fool had her first. If I sought peace
+now, I could tell 'em there's punk enough to satisfy 'em both: whore
+sufficient! but let 'em worry one another, the foolish curs; they
+think they never can have enough of carrion.
+
+_AEn._ My lords, this fury is not proper here
+In time of truce; if either side be injured,
+To-morrow's sun will rise apace, and then--
+
+_Troil._ And then! but why should I defer till then?
+My blood calls now, there is no truce for traitors;
+My vengeance rolls within my breast; it must,
+It will have vent,--                                         [_Draws._
+
+_Diom._ Hinder us not, AEneas,
+My blood rides high as his; I trust thy honour,
+And know thou art too brave a foe to break it.--             [_Draws._
+
+_Thers._ Now, moon! now shine, sweet moon! let them have just light
+enough to make their passes; and not enough to ward them.
+
+_AEn._ [_Drawing too._]
+By heaven, he comes on this, who strikes the first.
+You both are mad; is this like gallant men,
+To fight at midnight; at the murderer's hour;
+When only guilt and rapine draw a sword?
+Let night enjoy her dues of soft repose;
+But let the sun behold the brave man's courage.
+And this I dare engage for Diomede,--
+For though I am,--he shall not hide his head,
+But meet you in the very face of danger.
+
+_Diom._ [_Putting up._]
+Be't so; and were it on some precipice,
+High as Olympus, and a sea beneath,
+Call when thou dar'st, just on the sharpest point
+I'll meet, and tumble with thee to destruction.
+
+_Troil._ A gnawing conscience haunts not guilty men,
+As I'll haunt thee, to summon thee to this;
+Nay, shouldst thou take the Stygian lake for refuge,
+I'll plunge in after, through the boiling flames,
+To push thee hissing down the vast abyss.
+
+_Diom._ Where shall we meet?
+
+_Troil._ Before the tent of Calchas.
+Thither, through all your troops, I'll fight my way;
+And in the sight of perjured Cressida,
+Give death to her through thee.
+
+_Diom._ 'Tis largely promised;
+But I disdain to answer with a boast.
+Be sure thou shalt be met.
+
+_Troil._ And thou be found.   [_Exeunt_ TROILUS _and_ AENEAS _one way;_
+                               DIOMEDE _the other._
+
+_Thers._ Now the furies take AEneas, for letting them sleep upon their
+quarrel; who knows but rest may cool their brains, and make them rise
+maukish to mischief upon consideration? May each of them dream he sees
+his cockatrice in t'other's arms; and be stabbing one another in their
+sleep, to remember them of their business when they wake: let them be
+punctual to the point of honour; and, if it were possible, let both be
+first at the place of execution; let neither of them have cogitation
+enough, to consider 'tis a whore they fight for; and let them value
+their lives at as little as they are worth: and lastly, let no
+succeeding fools take warning by them; but, in imitation of them, when
+a strumpet is in question,
+  Let them beneath their feet all reason trample,
+  And think it great to perish by example.                    [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  HECTOR, _Trojans,_ ANDROMACHE.
+
+_Hect._ The blue mists rise from off the nether grounds,
+And the sun mounts apace. To arms, to arms!
+I am resolved to put to the utmost proof
+The fate of Troy this day.
+
+_Andr._ [_Aside._] Oh wretched woman, oh!
+
+_Hect._ Methought I heard you sigh, Andromache.
+
+_Andr._ Did you, my lord?
+
+_Hect._ Did you, my lord? you answer indirectly;
+Just when I said, that I would put our fate
+Upon the extremest proof, you fetched a groan;
+And, as you checked yourself for what you did,
+You stifled it and stopt. Come, you are sad.
+
+_Andr._ The gods forbid!
+
+_Hect._ What should the gods forbid?
+
+_Andr._ That I should give you cause of just offence.
+
+_Hect._ You say well; but you look not chearfully.
+I mean this day to waste the stock of war,
+And lay it prodigally out in blows.
+Come, gird my sword, and smile upon me, love;
+Like victory, come flying to my arms,
+And give me earnest of desired success.
+
+_Andr._ The gods protect you, and restore you to me!
+
+_Hect._ What, grown a coward! Thou wert used, Andromache,
+To give my courage courage; thou would'st cry,--
+Go Hector, day grows old, and part of fame
+Is ravished from thee by thy slothful stay.
+
+_Andr._ [_Aside._]
+What shall I do to seem the same I was?--
+Come, let me gird thy fortune to thy side,
+And conquest sit as close and sure as this.
+                          [_She goes to gird his sword, and it falls._
+Now mercy, heaven! the gods avert this omen!
+
+_Hect._ A foolish omen! take it up again,
+And mend thy error.
+
+_Andr._ I cannot, for my hand obeys me not;
+But, as in slumbers, when we fain would run
+From our imagined fears, our idle feet
+Grow to the ground, our struggling voice dies inward;
+So now, when I would force myself to chear you,
+My faltering tongue can give no glad presage:
+Alas, I am no more Andromache.
+
+_Hect._ Why then thy former soul is flown to me;
+For I, methinks, am lifted into air,
+As if my mind, mastering my mortal part,
+Would bear my exalted body to the gods.
+Last night I dreamt Jove sat on Ida's top,
+And, beckoning with his hand divine from far,
+He pointed to a choir of demi-gods,
+Bacchus and Hercules, and all the rest,
+Who, free from human toils, had gained the pitch
+Of blest eternity;--Lo there, he said,
+Lo there's a place for Hector.
+
+_Andr._ Be to thy enemies this boding dream!
+
+_Hect._ Why, it portends me honour and renown.
+
+_Andr._ Such honour as the brave gain after death;
+For I have dreamt all night of horrid slaughters,
+Of trampling horses, and of chariot wheels
+Wading in blood up to their axle-trees;
+Of fiery demons gliding down the skies,
+And Ilium brightened with a midnight blaze:
+O therefore, if thou lovest me, go not forth.
+
+_Hect._ Go to thy bed again, and there dream better.--
+Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
+
+_Andr._ No notes of sally, for the heaven's sweet sake!
+'Tis not for nothing when my spirits droop;
+This is a day when thy ill stars are strong,
+When they have driven thy helpless genius down
+The steep of heaven, to some obscure retreat.
+
+_Hect._ No more; even as thou lovest my fame, no more;
+My honour stands engaged to meet Achilles.
+What will the Grecians think, or what will he,
+Or what will Troy, or what wilt thou thyself,
+When once this ague fit of fear is o'er,
+If I should lose my honour for a dream?
+
+_Andr._ Your enemies too well your courage know,
+And heaven abhors the forfeit of rash vows,
+Like spotted livers in a sacrifice.
+I cannot, O I dare not let you go;
+For, when you leave me, my presaging mind
+Says, I shall never, never see you more.
+
+_Hect._ Thou excellently good, but oh too soft,
+Let me not 'scape the danger of this day;
+But I have struggling in my manly soul,
+To see those modest tears, ashamed to fall,
+And witness any part of woman in thee!
+And now I fear, lest thou shouldst think it fear,
+If, thus dissuaded, I refuse to fight,
+And stay inglorious in thy arms at home.
+
+_Andr._ Oh, could I have that thought, I should not love thee;
+Thy soul is proof to all things but to kindness;
+And therefore 'twas that I forbore to tell thee,
+How mad Cassandra, full of prophecy,
+Ran round the streets, and, like a Bacchanal,
+Cried,--Hold him, Priam, 'tis an ominous day;
+Let him not go, for Hector is no more.
+
+_Hect._ Our life is short, but to extend that span
+To vast eternity, is virtue's work;
+Therefore to thee, and not to fear of fate,
+Which once must come to all, give I this day.
+But see thou move no more the like request;
+For rest assured, that, to regain this hour,
+To-morrow will I tempt a double danger.
+Mean time, let destiny attend thy leisure;
+I reckon this one day a blank of life.
+
+  _Enter_ TROILUS.
+
+_Troil._ Where are you, brother? now, in honour's name,
+What do you mean to be thus long unarmed?
+The embattled soldiers throng about the gates;
+The matrons to the turrets' tops ascend,
+Holding their helpless children in their arms,
+To make you early known to their young eyes,
+And Hector is the universal shout.
+
+_Hect._ Bid all unarm; I will not fight to-day.
+
+_Troil._ Employ some coward to bear back this news,
+And let the children hoot him for his pains.
+By all the gods, and by my just revenge,
+This sun shall shine the last for them or us;
+These noisy streets, or yonder echoing plains,
+Shall be to-morrow silent as the grave.
+
+_Andr._ O brother, do not urge a brother's fate,
+But, let this wreck of heaven and earth roll o'er,
+And, when the storm is past, put out to sea.
+
+_Troil._ O now I know from whence his change proceeds;
+Some frantic augur has observed the skies;
+Some victim wants a heart, or crow flies wrong.
+By heaven, 'twas never well, since saucy priests
+Grew to be masters of the listening herd,
+And into mitres cleft the regal crown;
+Then, as the earth were scanty for their power,
+They drew the pomp of heaven to wait on them.
+Shall I go publish, Hector dares not fight,
+Because a madman dreamt he talked with Jove?
+What could the god see in a brain-sick priest,
+That he should sooner talk to him than me?
+
+_Hect._ You know my name's not liable to fear.
+
+_Troil._ Yes, to the worst of fear,--to superstition.
+But whether that, or fondness of a wife,
+(The more unpardonable ill) has seized you,
+Know this, the Grecians think you fear Achilles,
+And that Polyxena has begged your life.
+
+_Hect._ How! that my life is begged, and by my sister?
+
+_Troil._ Ulysses so informed me at our parting,
+With a malicious and disdainful smile:
+'Tis true, he said not, in broad words, you feared;
+But in well-mannered terms 'twas so agreed,
+Achilles should avoid to meet with Hector.
+
+_Hect._ He thinks my sister's treason my petition;
+That, largely vaunting, in my heat of blood,
+More than I could, it seems, or durst perform,
+I sought evasion.
+
+_Troil._ And in private prayed--
+
+_Hect._ O yes, Polyxena to beg my life.
+
+_Andr._ He cannot think so;--do not urge him thus.
+
+_Hect._ Not urge me! then thou think'st I need his urging.
+By all the gods, should Jove himself descend,
+And tell me,--Hector, thou deservest not life,
+But take it as a boon,--I would not live.
+But that a mortal man, and he, of all men,
+Should think my life were in his power to give,
+I will not rest, till, prostrate on the ground,
+I make him, atheist-like, implore his breath
+Of me, and not of heaven.
+
+_Troil._ Then you'll refuse no more to fight?
+
+_Hect._ Refuse! I'll not be hindered, brother.
+I'll through and through them, even their hindmost ranks,
+Till I have found that large-sized boasting fool,
+Who dares presume my life is in his gift.
+
+_Andr._ Farewell, farewell; 'tis vain to strive with fate!
+Cassandra's raging god inspires my breast
+With truths that must be told, and not believed.
+Look how he dies! look how his eyes turn pale!
+Look how his blood bursts out at many vents!
+Hark how Troy roars, how Hecuba cries out,
+And widowed I fill all the streets with screams!
+Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement,
+Like antiques meet, and tumble upon heaps!
+And all cry, Hector, Hector's dead! Oh Hector!                [_Exit._
+
+_Hect._ What sport will be, when we return at evening,
+To laugh her out of countenance for her dreams!
+
+_Troil._ I have not quenched my eyes with dewy sleep this night;
+But fiery fumes mount upward to my brains,
+And, when I breathe, methinks my nostrils hiss!
+I shall turn basilisk, and with my sight
+Do my hands' work on Diomede this day.
+
+_Hect._ To arms, to arms! the vanguards are engaged
+Let us not leave one man to guard the walls;
+Both old and young, the coward and the brave,
+Be summoned all, our utmost fate to try,
+And as one body move, whose soul am I.                      [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II--_The Camp._
+
+  _Alarm within. Enter_ AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, _Soldiers._
+
+_Agam._ Thus far the promise of the day is fair.
+AEneas rather loses ground than gains.
+I saw him over-laboured, taking breath,
+And leaning on his spear, behold our trenches,
+Like a fierce lion looking up to toils,
+Which yet he durst not leap.
+
+_Ulys._ And therefore distant death does all the work;
+The flights of whistling darts make brown the sky,
+Whose clashing points strike fire, and gild the dusk;
+Those, that reach home, from neither host are vain,
+So thick the prease; so lusty are their arms,
+That death seemed never sent with better will.
+Nor was with less concernment entertained.
+
+  _Enter_ NESTOR.
+
+_Agam._ Now, Nestor, what's the news?
+
+_Nest._ I have descried
+A cloud of dust, that mounts in pillars upwards,
+Expanding as it travels to our camp;
+And from the midst I heard a bursting shout,
+That rent the heaven; as if all Troy were swarmed.
+And on the wing this way.
+
+_Menel._ Let them come, let them come.
+
+_Agam._ Where's great Achilles?
+
+_Ulys._ Think not on Achilles,
+Till Hector drag him from his tent to fight;
+Which sure he will, for I have laid the train.
+
+_Nest._ But young Patroclus leads his Myrmidons,
+And in their front, even in the face of Hector,
+Resolves to dare the Trojans.
+
+_Agam._ Haste, Ulysses, bid Ajax issue forth and second him.
+
+_Ulys._ Oh noble general, let it not be so.
+Oppose not rage, while rage is in its force,
+But give it way awhile, and let it waste.
+The rising deluge is not stopt with dams;
+Those it o'erbears, and drowns the hopes of harvest;
+But, wisely managed, its divided strength
+Is sluiced in channels, and securely drained.
+First, let small parties dally with their fury;
+But when their force is spent and unsupplied,
+The residue with mounds may be restrained,
+And dry-shod we may pass the naked ford.
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ Ho, ho, ho!
+
+_Menel._ Why dost thou laugh, unseasonable fool?
+
+_Thers._ Why, thou fool in season, cannot a man laugh, but thou
+thinkest he makes horns at thee? Thou prince of the herd, what hast
+thou to do with laughing? 'Tis the prerogative of a man, to laugh.
+Thou risibility without reason, thou subject of laughter, thou fool
+royal!
+
+_Ulys._ But tell us the occasion of thy mirth?
+
+_Thers._ Now a man asks me, I care not if I answer to my own
+kind.--Why, the enemies are broken into our trenches; fools like
+Menelaus fall by thousands yet not a human soul departs on either
+side. Troilus and Ajax have almost beaten one another's heads off, but
+are both immortal for want of brains. Patroclus has killed Sarpedon,
+and Hector Patroclus, so there is a towardly springing fop gone off;
+he might have made a prince one day, but now he's nipt in the very bud
+and promise of a most prodigious coxcomb.
+
+_Agam._ Bear off Patroclus' body to Achilles;
+Revenge will arm him now, and bring us aid.
+The alarm sounds near, and shouts are driven upon us,
+As of a crowd confused in their retreat.
+
+_Ulys._ Open your ranks, and make these madmen way,
+Then close again to charge upon their backs,
+And quite consume the relics of the war.  [_Exeunt all but_ THERSITES.
+
+_Thers._ What shoals of fools one battle sweeps away! How it purges
+families of younger brothers, highways of robbers, and cities of
+cuckold-makers! There is nothing like a pitched battle for these brisk
+addle-heads! Your physician is a pretty fellow, but his fees make him
+tedious, he rides not fast enough; the fools grow upon him, and their
+horse bodies are poison proof. Your pestilence is a quicker remedy,
+but it has not the grace to make distinction; it huddles up honest men
+and rogues together. But your battle has discretion; it picks out all
+the forward fools, and sowses them together into immortality. [_Shouts
+and alarms within_] Plague upon these drums and trumpets! these sharp
+sauces of the war, to get fools an appetite to fighting! What do I
+among them? I shall be mistaken for some valiant ass, and die a martyr
+in a wrong religion.     [_Here Grecians fly over the stage pursued by
+                          Trojans; one Trojan turns back upon_
+                          THERSITES _who is flying too._
+
+_Troj._ Turn, slave, and fight.
+
+_Thers._ [_turning._] What art thou?
+
+_Troj._ A bastard son of Priam's.
+
+_Thers._ I am a bastard too, I love bastards, I am bastard in body,
+bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. A
+bear will not fasten upon a bear; why should one bastard offend
+another! Let us part fair, like true sons of whores, and have the fear
+of our mothers before our eyes.
+
+_Troj._ The devil take thee, coward.                     [_Exit Troj._
+
+_Thers._ Now, would I were either invisible or invulnerable! These
+gods have a fine time on it; they can see and make mischief, and never
+feel it.            [_Clattering of swords at both doors; he runs each
+                     way, and meets the noise._
+A pox clatter you! I am compassed in. Now would I were that blockhead
+Ajax for a minute. Some sturdy Trojan will poach me up with a long
+pole! and then the rogues may kill one another at free cost, and have
+nobody left to laugh at them. Now destruction! now destruction!
+
+  _Enter_ HECTOR _and_ TROILUS _driving in the Greeks._
+
+_Hect._ to _Thers._ Speak what part thou fightest on!
+
+_Thers._ I fight not at all; I am for neither side.
+
+_Hect._ Thou art a Greek; art thou a match for Hector?
+Art thou of blood and honour?
+
+_Thers._ No, I am a rascal, a scurvy railing knave, a very filthy
+rogue.
+
+_Hect._ I do believe thee; live.
+
+_Thers._ God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but the devil break
+thy neck for frighting me.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Troil._ (_returning._) What prisoner have you there?
+
+_Hect._ A gleaning of the war; a rogue, he says.
+
+_Troil._ Dispatch him, and away.                 [_Going to kill him._
+
+_Thers._ Hold, hold!--what, is it no more but dispatch a man and away!
+I am in no such haste: I will not die for Greece; I hate Greece, and
+by my good will would never have been born there; I was mistaken into
+that country, and betrayed by my parents to be born there. And
+besides, I have a mortal enemy among the Grecians, one Diomede, a
+damned villain, and cannot die with a safe conscience till I have
+first murdered him.
+
+_Troil._ Shew me that Diomede, and thou shalt live.
+
+_Thers._ Come along with me, and I will conduct thee to Calchas's
+tent, where I believe he is now, making war with the priest's
+daughter.
+
+_Hect._ Here we must part, our destinies divide us;
+Brother and friend, farewell.
+
+_Troil._ When shall we meet?
+
+_Hect._ When the gods please; if not, we once must part.
+Look; on yon hill their squandered troops unite.
+
+_Troil._ If I mistake not, 'tis their last reserve:
+The storm's blown o'er, and those but after-drops.
+
+_Hect._ I wish our men be not too far engaged;
+For few we are and spent, as having born
+The burthen of the day: But, hap what can,
+They shall be charged; Achilles must be there,
+And him I seek, or death.
+Divide our troops, and take the fresher half.
+
+_Troil._ O brother!
+
+_Hect._ No dispute of ceremony:
+These are enow for me, in faith enow.
+Their bodies shall not flag while I can lead;
+Nor wearied limbs confess mortality,
+Before those ants, that blacken all yon hill,
+Are crept into the earth. Farewell.                      [_Exit_ HECT.
+
+_Troil._ Farewell.--Come, Greek.
+
+_Thers._ Now these rival rogues will clapperclaw one another, and I
+shall have the sport of it.               [_Exit_ TROIL. _with_ THERS.
+
+  _Enter_ ACHILLES _and Myrmidons._
+
+_Achill._ Which way went Hector?
+
+_Myrmid._ Up yon sandy hill;
+You may discern them by their smoking track:
+A wavering body working with bent hams
+Against the rising, spent with painful march,
+And by loose footing cast on heaps together.
+
+_Achil._ O thou art gone, thou sweetest, best of friends!
+Why did I let thee tempt the shock of war,
+Ere yet the tender nerves had strung thy limbs,
+And knotted into strength! Yet, though too late,
+I will, I will revenge thee, my Patroclus!
+Nor shall thy ghost thy murderers long attend,
+But thou shalt hear him calling Charon back,
+Ere thou art wafted to the farther shore.--
+Make haste, my soldiers; give me this day's pains
+For my dead friend: strike every hand with mine,
+Till Hector breathless on the ground we lay!
+Revenge is honour, the securest way.                [_Exit with Myrm._
+
+  _Enter_ THERSITES, TROILUS, _Trojans._
+
+_Thers._ That's Calchas's tent.
+
+_Troil._ Then, that one spot of earth contains more falsehood,
+Than all the sun sees in his race beside.
+That I should trust the daughter of a priest!
+Priesthood, that makes a merchandise of heaven!
+Priesthood, that sells even to their prayers and blessings
+And forces us to pay for our own cozenage!
+
+_Thers._ Nay, cheats heaven too with entrails and with offals;
+Gives it the garbage of a sacrifice,
+And keeps the best for private luxury.
+
+_Troil._ Thou hast deserved thy life for cursing priests.
+Let me embrace thee; thou art beautiful:
+That back, that nose, those eyes are beautiful:
+Live; thou art honest, for thou hat'st a priest.
+
+_Thers._ [_Aside._] Farewell, Trojan; if I escape with life, as I
+hope, and thou art knocked on the head, as I hope too, I shall be the
+first that ever escaped the revenge of a priest after cursing him; and
+thou wilt not be the last, I prophesy, that a priest will bring to
+ruin.                                                    [_Exit_ THER.
+
+_Troil._ Methinks, my soul is roused to her last work;
+Has much to do, and little time to spare.
+She starts within me, like a traveller,
+Who sluggishly outslept his morning hour,
+And mends his pace to reach his inn betimes.
+                                      [_Noise within,_ Follow, follow!
+A noise of arms! the traitor may be there;
+Or else, perhaps, that conscious scene of love,
+The tent, may hold him; yet I dare not search,
+For oh, I fear to find him in that place.             [_Exit_ TROILUS.
+
+  _Enter_ CALCHAS _and_ CRESSIDA.
+
+_Cres._ Where is he? I'll be justified, or die.
+
+_Calch._ So quickly vanished! he was here but now.
+He must be gone to search for Diomede;
+For Diomede told me, here they were to fight.
+
+_Cres._ Alas!
+
+_Calch._ You must prevent, and not complain.
+
+_Cres._ If Troilus die, I have no share in life.
+
+_Calch._ If Diomede sink beneath the sword of Troilus
+We lose not only a protector here,
+But are debarred all future means of flight.
+
+_Cres._ What then remains?
+
+_Calch._ To interpose betimes
+Betwixt their swords; or, if that cannot be,
+To intercede for him, who shall be vanquished.
+Fate leaves no middle course.                         [_Exit_ CALCHAS.
+
+  _Clashing within._
+
+_Cres._ Ah me! I hear them,
+And fear 'tis past prevention.
+
+  _Enter_ DIOMEDE, _retiring before_ TROILUS, _and falling as he
+  enters._
+
+_Troil._ Now beg thy life, or die.
+
+_Diom._ No; use thy fortune:
+I loath the life, which thou canst give, or take.
+
+_Troil._ Scorn'st thou my mercy, villain!--Take thy wish.--
+
+_Cres._ Hold, hold your hand, my lord, and hear me speak.
+                  [TROILUS _turns back; in which time_ DIOMEDE _rises,
+                   Trojans and Greeks enter, and rank themselves on
+                   both sides of their Captains._
+
+_Troil._ Did I not hear the voice of perjured Cressida?
+Com'st thou to give the last stab to my heart?
+As if the proofs of all thy former falsehood
+Were not enough convincing, com'st thou now
+To beg my rival's life?
+Whom, oh, if any spark of truth remained,
+Thou couldst not thus, even to my face, prefer.
+
+_Cres._ What shall I say!--that you suspect me false,
+Has struck me dumb! but let him live, my Troilus;
+By all our loves, by all our past endearments,
+I do adjure thee, spare him.
+
+_Troil._ Hell and death!
+
+_Cres._ If ever I had power to bend your mind,
+Believe me still your faithful Cressida;
+And though my innocence appear like guilt,
+Because I make his forfeit life my suit,
+'Tis but for this, that my return to you
+Would be cut off for ever by his death;
+My father, treated like a slave, and scorned;
+Myself in hated bonds a captive held.
+
+_Troil._ Could I believe thee, could I think thee true,
+In triumph would I bear thee back to Troy,
+Though Greece could rally all her shattered troops,
+And stand embattled to oppose my way.
+But, oh, thou syren, I will stop my ears
+To thy enchanting notes; the winds shall bear
+Upon their wings thy words, more light than they.
+
+_Cres._ Alas! I but dissembled love to him.
+If ever he had any proof, beyond
+What modesty might give--
+
+_Diom._ No! witness this.--                         [_The Ring shewn._
+There, take her, Trojan, thou deserv'st her best;
+You good, kind-natured, well-believing fools,
+Are treasures to a woman.
+I was a jealous, hard, vexatious lover,
+And doubted even this pledge,--till full possession;
+But she was honourable to her word,
+And I have no just reason to complain.
+
+_Cres._ O unexampled, frontless impudence!
+
+_Troil._ Hell, show me such another tortured wretch as Troilus!
+
+_Diom._ Nay, grieve not; I resign her freely up;
+I'm satisfied; and dare engage for Cressida,
+That, if you have a promise of her person,
+She shall be willing to come out of debt.
+
+_Cres._ [_Kneeling._]
+My only lord, by all those holy vows,
+Which, if there be a Power above, are binding,
+Or, if there be a hell below, are fearful,
+May every imprecation, which your rage
+Can wish on me, take place, if I am false!
+
+_Diom._ Nay, since you're so concerned to be believed,
+I'm sorry I have pressed my charge so far:
+Be what you would be thought; I can be grateful.
+
+_Troil._ Grateful! Oh torment! now hell's bluest flames
+Receive her quick, with all her crimes upon her!
+Let her sink spotted down! let the dark host
+Make room, and point, and hiss her as she goes!
+Let the most branded ghosts of all her sex
+Rejoice, and cry,--"Here comes a blacker fiend!"
+Let her--
+
+_Cres._ Enough, my lord; you've said enough.
+This faithless, perjured, hated Cressida,
+Shall be no more the subject of your curses:
+Some few hours hence, and grief had done your work;
+But then your eyes had missed the satisfaction,
+Which thus I give you,--thus--
+                           [_She stabs herself; they both run to her._
+
+_Diom._ Help! save her, help!
+
+_Cres._ Stand off, and touch me not, thou traitor Diomede;--
+But you, my only Troilus, come near:
+Trust me, the wound, which I have given this breast,
+Is far less painful than the wound you gave it.
+Oh, can you yet believe, that I am true?
+
+_Troil._ This were too much, even if thou hadst been false!
+But oh, thou purest, whitest innocence,--
+For such I know thee now, too late I know it!--
+May all my curses, and ten thousand more,
+Heavier than they, fall back upon my head;
+Pelion and Ossa, from the giants' graves
+Be torn by some avenging deity,
+And hurled at me, a bolder wretch than they,
+Who durst invade the skies!
+
+_Cres._ Hear him not, heavens;
+But hear me bless him with my latest breath!
+And, since I question not your hard decree,
+That doomed my days unfortunate and few,
+Add all to him you take away from me;
+And I die happy, that he thinks me true.                      [_Dies._
+
+_Troil._ She's gone for ever, and she blest me dying!
+Could she have cursed me worse! she died for me,
+And, like a woman, I lament for her.
+Distraction pulls me several ways at once:
+Here pity calls me to weep out my eyes,
+Despair then turns me back upon myself,
+And bids me seek no more, but finish here.
+                                    [_Points his Sword to his Breast._
+Ha, smilest thou, traitor! thou instruct'st me best,
+And turn'st my just revenge to punish thee.
+
+_Diom._ Thy worst, for mine has been beforehand with thee;
+I triumph in thy vain credulity,
+Which levels thy despairing state to mine;
+But yet thy folly, to believe a foe,
+Makes thine the sharper and more shameful loss.
+
+_Troil._ By my few moments of remaining life,
+I did not hope for any future joy;
+But thou hast given me pleasure ere I die,
+To punish such a villain.--Fight apart;            [_To his Soldiers._
+For heaven and hell have marked him out for me,
+And I should grudge even his least drop of blood
+To any other hand.    [TROILUS _and_ DIOMEDE _fight, and both Parties
+                       engage at the same time. The Trojans make
+                       the Greeks retire, and_ TROILUS _makes_ DIOMEDE
+                       _give ground, and hurts him. Trumpets
+                       sound._ ACHILLES _enters with his Myrmidons,
+                       on the backs of the Trojans, who fight in a
+                       ring, encompassed round._ TROILUS, _singling_
+                       DIOMEDE, _gets him down, and kills him; and_
+                       ACHILLES _kills_ TROILUS _upon him. All the
+                       Trojans die upon the place,_ TROILUS _last._
+
+  _Enter_ AGAMEMNON, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, AJAX, _and
+  Attendants._
+
+_Achil._ Our toils are done, and those aspiring walls,
+The work of gods, and almost mating heaven,
+Must crumble into rubbish on the plain.
+
+_Agam._ When mighty Hector fell beneath thy sword,
+Their old foundations shook; their nodding towers
+Threatened from high the amazed inhabitants;
+And guardian-gods, for fear, forsook their fanes.
+
+_Achil._ Patroclus, now be quiet; Hector's dead;
+And, as a second offering to thy ghost,
+Lies Troilus high upon a heap of slain;
+And noble Diomede beneath, whose death
+This hand of mine revenged.
+
+_Ajax._ Revenged it basely:
+For Troilus fell by multitudes opprest,
+And so fell Hector; but 'tis vain to talk.
+
+_Ulys._ Hail, Agamemnon! truly victor now!
+While secret envy, and while open pride,
+Among thy factious nobles discord threw;
+While public good was urged for private ends,
+And those thought patriots, who disturbed it most;
+Then, like the headstrong horses of the sun,
+That light, which should have cheered the world, consumed it:
+Now peaceful order has resumed the reins,
+Old Time looks young, and Nature seems renewed.
+  Then, since from home-bred factions ruin springs,
+  Let subjects learn obedience to their kings.              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE,
+
+                         SPOKEN BY THERSITES.
+
+
+  These cruel critics put me into passion;
+  For, in their lowering looks I read damnation:
+  You expect a satire, and I seldom fail;
+  When I'm first beaten, 'tis my part to rail.
+  You British fools, of the old Trojan stock,
+  That stand so thick, one cannot miss the flock,
+  Poets have cause to dread a keeping pit,
+  When women's cullies come to judge of wit.
+  As we strew rat's-bane when we vermin fear,
+  'Twere worth our cost to scatter fool-bane here;
+  And, after all our judging fops were served,
+  Dull poets, too, should have a dose reserved;
+  Such reprobates, as, past all sense of shaming,
+  Write on, and ne'er are satisfied with damning:
+  Next, those, to whom the stage does not belong,
+  Such whose vocation only is--to song;
+  At most to prologue, when, for want of time,
+  Poets take in for journey-work in rhime.
+  But I want curses for those mighty shoals
+  Of scribbling Chloris's, and Phyllis' fools:
+  Those oafs should be restrained, during their lives,
+  From pen and ink, as madmen are from knives.
+  I could rail on, but 'twere a task as vain,
+  As preaching truth at Rome, or wit in Spain:
+  Yet, to huff out our play was worth my trying;
+  John Lilburn 'scaped his judges by defying:[1]
+  If guilty, yet I'm sure o' the church's blessing,
+  By suffering for the plot, without confessing.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Lilburn, the most turbulent, but the boldest and most upright of
+   men, had the merit of defying and resisting the tyranny of the
+   king, of the parliament, and of the protector. He was convicted in
+   the star-chamber, but liberated by the parliament; he was tried on
+   the parliamentary statute for treasons in 1651, and before
+   Cromwell's high court of justice in 1654; and notwithstanding an
+   audacious defence,--which to some has been more perilous than a
+   feeble cause,--he was, in both cases, triumphantly acquitted.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            SPANISH FRIAR;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                        THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY.
+
+
+               _Ut melius possis fallere, sume togam._
+                                   --MART.
+
+
+             _--Alterna revisens
+             Lasit, et in solido rursus fortuna locavit._
+                                   --VIRG.
+
+
+
+
+                          THE SPANISH FRIAR.
+
+
+The Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery, is one of the best and
+most popular of our poet's dramatic efforts. The plot is, as Johnson
+remarks, particularly happy, for the coincidence and coalition of the
+tragic and comic plots. The grounds for this eminent critic's encomium
+will be found to lie more deep than appears at first sight. It was,
+indeed, a sufficiently obvious connection, to make the gay Lorenzo an
+officer of the conquering army, and attached to the person of
+Torrismond. This expedient could hardly have escaped the invention of
+the most vulgar playwright, that ever dovetailed tragedy and comedy
+together. The felicity of Dryden's plot, therefore, does not consist
+in the ingenuity of his original conception, but in the minutely
+artificial strokes, by which the reader is perpetually reminded of the
+dependence of the one part of the play on the other. These are so
+frequent, and appear so very natural, that the comic plot, instead of
+diverting our attention from the tragic business, recals it to our
+mind by constant and unaffected allusion. No great event happens in
+the higher region of the camp or court, that has not some indirect
+influence upon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and the part which
+the gallant is called upon to act in the revolution that winds up the
+tragic interest, while it is highly in character, serves to bring the
+catastrophe of both parts of the play under the eye of the spectator,
+at one and the same time. Thus much seemed necessary to explain the
+felicity of combination, upon which Dryden justly valued himself, and
+which Johnson sanctioned by his high commendation. But, although
+artfully conjoined, the different departments of this tragi-comedy are
+separate subjects of critical remark.
+
+The comic part of the Spanish Friar, as it gives the first title to
+the play, seems to claim our first attention. Indeed, some precedence
+is due to it in another point of view; for, though the tragic scenes
+may be matched in All for Love, Don Sebastian, and else where, the
+Spanish Friar contains by far the most happy of Dryden's comic
+effusions. It has, comparatively speaking, this high claim to
+commendation, that, although the intrigue is licentious, according to
+the invariable licence of the age, the language is, in general, free
+from the extreme and disgusting coarseness, which our author too
+frequently mistook for wit, or was contented to substitute in its
+stead. The liveliness and even brilliancy of the dialogue, shows that
+Dryden, from the stores of his imagination, could, when he pleased,
+command that essential requisite of comedy; and that, if he has seldom
+succeeded, it was only because he mistook the road, or felt difficulty
+in travelling it. The character of Dominic is of that broadly
+ludicrous nature, which was proper to the old comedy. It would be
+difficult to show an ordinary conception more fully brought out. He
+is, like Falstaff, a compound of sensuality and talent, finely varied
+by the professional traits with which it suited the author's purpose
+to adorn his character. Such an addition was, it is true, more comic
+than liberal; but Dryden, whose constant dislike to the clerical order
+glances out in many of his performances, was not likely to be
+scrupulous, when called upon to pourtray one of their members in his
+very worst colours. To counterbalance the Friar's scandalous
+propensities of every sort, and to render him an object of laughter,
+rather than abhorrence, the author has gifted this reprobate churchman
+with a large portion of wit; by means of which, and by a ready
+presence of mind, always indicative of energy, he preserves an
+ascendence over the other characters, and escapes detection and
+disgrace, until poetical justice, and the conclusion of the play,
+called for his punishment. We have a natural indulgence for an amusing
+libertine; and, I believe, that, as most readers commiserate the
+disgrace of Falstaff, a few may be found to wish that Dominic's
+penance had been of a nature more decent and more theatrical than the
+poet has assigned him[1]. From the dedication, as well as the
+prologue, it appears that Dryden, however contrary to his sentiments
+at a future period, was, at present, among those who held up to
+contempt and execration the character of the Roman catholic
+priesthood. By one anonymous lampoon, this is ascribed to a temporary
+desertion of the court party, in resentment for the loss, or
+discontinuance of his pension. This allowance, during the pressure
+upon the Exchequer, was, at least, irregularly paid, of which Dryden
+repeatedly complains, and particularly in a letter to the Earl of
+Rochester. But the hardship was owing entirely to the poverty of the
+public purse; and, when the anonymous libeller affirms, that Dryden's
+pension was withdrawn, on account of his share in the Essay on Satire,
+he only shows that his veracity is on a level with his poverty[2]. The
+truth seems to be, that Dryden partook in some degree of the general
+ferment which the discovery of the Popish Plot had excited; and we may
+easily suppose him to have done so without any impeachment to his
+monarchial tenets, since North himself admits, that at the first
+opening of the plot, the chiefs of the loyal party joined in the cry.
+Indeed, that mysterious transaction had been investigated by none more
+warmly than by Danby, the king's favourite minister, and a high
+favourer of the prerogative. Even when writing Absalom and Achitophel,
+our author by no means avows an absolute disbelief of the whole plot,
+while condemning the extraordinary exaggerations, by which it had been
+rendered the means of much bloodshed and persecution[3]. It seems,
+therefore, fair to believe, that, without either betraying or
+disguising his own principles, he chose, as a popular subject for the
+drama, an attack upon an obnoxious priesthood, whom he, in common with
+all the nation, believed to have been engaged in the darkest intrigues
+against the king and government. I am afraid that this task was the
+more pleasing, from that prejudice against the clergy, of all
+countries and religions, which, as already noticed, our author
+displays, in common with other wits of that licentious age[4]. The
+character of the Spanish Friar was not, however, forgotten, when
+Dryden became a convert to the Roman Catholic persuasion; and, in many
+instances, as well as in that just quoted, it was assumed as the means
+of fixing upon him a charge of inconsistency in politics, and
+versatility in religion[5].
+
+The tragic part of the "Spanish Friar" has uncommon merit. The opening
+of the Drama, and the picture of a besieged town in the last
+extremity, is deeply impressive, while the description of the noise of
+the night attack, and the gradual manner in which the intelligence of
+its success is communicated, arrests the attention, and prepares
+expectation for the appearance of the hero, with all the splendour
+which ought to attend the principal character in tragedy. The
+subsequent progress of the plot is liable to a capital objection, from
+the facility with which the queen, amiable and virtuous, as we are
+bound to suppose her, consents to the murder of the old dethroned
+monarch. We question if the operation of any motive, however powerful,
+could have been pleaded with propriety, in apology for a breach of
+theatrical decorum, so gross, and so unnatural. But, in fact, the
+queen is only actuated by a sort of reflected ambition, a desire to
+secure to her lover a crown, which she thought in danger; but which,
+according to her own statement, she only valued on his account. This
+is surely too remote and indirect a motive, to urge a female to so
+horrid a crime. There is also something vilely cold-hearted, in her
+attempt to turn the guilt and consequences of her own crime upon
+Bertran, who, whatever faults he might have to others, was to the
+queen no otherwise obnoxious, than because the victim of her own
+inconstancy. The gallant, virtuous, and enthusiastic character of
+Torrismond, must be allowed, in some measure, to counterbalance that
+of his mistress, however unhappily he has placed his affections. But
+the real excellence of these scenes consists less in peculiarity of
+character, than in the vivacity and power of the language, which,
+seldom sinking into vulgarity, or rising into bombast, maintains the
+mixture of force and dignity, best adapted to the expression of tragic
+passion. Upon the whole, as the comic part of this play is our
+author's master-piece in comedy, the tragic plot may be ranked with
+his very best efforts of that kind, whether in "Don Sebastian," or
+"All for Love."
+
+The "Spanish Friar" appears to have been brought out shortly after Mr
+Thynne's murder, which is alluded to in the Prologue, probably early
+in 1681-2. The whimsical caricature, which it presented to the public,
+in Father Dominic, was received with rapture by the prejudiced
+spectators, who thought nothing could be exaggerated in the character
+of a Roman Catholic priest. Yet, the satire was still more severe in
+the first edition, and afterwards considerably softened[6]. It was, as
+Dryden himself calls it, a Protestant play; and certainly, as Jeremy
+Collier somewhere says, was rare Protestant diversion, and much for
+the credit of the Reformation. Accordingly, the "Spanish Friar" was
+the only play prohibited by James II. after his accession; an
+interdict, which may be easily believed no way disagreeable to the
+author, now a convert to the Roman church. It is very remarkable,
+that, after the Revolution, it was the first play represented by order
+of queen Mary, and honoured with her presence; a choice, of which she
+had abundant reason to repent, as the serious part of the piece gave
+as much scope for malicious application against herself, as the comic
+against the religion of her father[7].
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Collier remarks the injustice of punishing the agent of Lorenzo's
+   vice, while he was himself brought off with flying colours. He
+   observes, "'Tis not the fault which is corrected, but the priest.
+   The author's discipline is seldom without a bias. He commonly gives
+   the laity the pleasure of an ill action, and the clergy the
+   punishment." _View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the Stage_,
+   p. 100.
+
+
+2.   To satire next thy talent was addressed,
+     Fell foul on all thy friends among the rest;
+     Nay, even thy royal patron was not spared,
+     But an obscene, a sauntering wretch declared.
+     Thy loyal libel we can still produce,
+     Beyond example, and beyond excuse.
+     O strange return, to a forgiving king,
+     (But the warmed viper wears the greatest sting,)
+     For pension lost, and justly without doubt;
+     When servants snarl we ought to kick them out.
+     They that disdain their benefactor's bread.
+     No longer ought by bounty to be fed.
+     That lost, the visor changed, you turn about,
+     And straight a true-blue protestant crept out.
+     The Friar now was writ, and some will say,
+     They smell a malcontent through all the play.
+     The papist too was damned, unfit for trust,
+     Called treacherous, shameless, profligate, unjust,
+     And kingly power thought arbitrary lust.
+     This lasted till thou didst thy pension gain,
+     And that changed both thy morals and thy strain.
+                                   _The Laureat, 24th October, 1678._
+
+3.   From hence began that plot, the nation's curse,
+     Bad in itself, but represented worse.
+     Raised in extremes, and in extremes decryed,
+     With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied;
+     Nor weighed nor winnowed by the multitude,
+     But swallowed in the mass unchewed and crude.
+     Some truth there was, but dashed and bruised with lies,
+     To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
+     Succeeding times did equal folly call.
+     Believing nothing, or believing all.
+
+4. "Thus we see," says Collier, "how hearty these people are in their
+   ill-will; how they attack religion under every form, and pursue the
+   priesthood through all the subdivisions of opinion. Neither Jews
+   nor Heathens, Turk nor Christians, Rome nor Geneva, church nor
+   conventicle, can escape them. They are afraid lest virtue should
+   have any quarters, undisturbed conscience any corner to retire to,
+   or God worshipped in any place." _Short View, &c._ p. 110.
+
+5. "I have read somewhere in Mons. Rapin's _Reflections sur la
+   Poetique_, that a certain Venetian nobleman, Andrea Naugeria by
+   name, was wont every year to sacrifice a Martial to the manes of
+   Catullus: In imitation of this, a celebrated poet, in the preface
+   before the Spanish Friar, is pleased to acquaint the world, that he
+   has indignation enough to burn a Bussy D'Amboys, annually, to the
+   memory of Ben Jonson. Since the modern ceremony, of offering up one
+   author at the altar of another, is likely to advance into a
+   fashion; and having already the authority of two such great men to
+   recommend it, the courteous reader may be pleased to take notice,
+   that the author of the following dialogue is resolved, (God
+   willing) on the festival of the Seven Sleepers, as long as he
+   lives, to sacrifice the Hind and Panther to the memory of Mr
+   Quarels and John Bunyan: Or, if a writer that has notoriously
+   contradicted himself, and espoused the quarrel of two different
+   parties, may be considered under two distinct characters, he
+   designs to deliver up the author of the Hind and Panther, to be
+   lashed severely by, and to beg pardon of, the worthy gentleman that
+   wrote the Spanish Friar, and the Religion Laici." _The reason of Mr
+   Bayes' changing his religion._ Preface.
+
+6. "The Revolter," a tragi-comedy, 1687, p. 29.
+
+7. It is impossible to avoid transcribing the whole account of this
+   representation, with some other curious particulars, contained in a
+   letter from the earl of Nottingham, published by Sir John
+   Dalrymple, from a copy given him by the bishop of Dromore; and also
+   inserted by Mr Malone in his third volume of Dryden's prose works.
+
+   "I am loth to send blank paper by a carrier, but am rather willing
+   to send some of the tattle of the town, than nothing at all; which
+   will at least serve for an hour's chat,--and then convert the
+   scrawl to its proper use.
+
+   "The only day her Majesty gave herself the diversion of a play, and
+   that on which she designed to see another, has furnished the town
+   with discourse for near a month. The choice of the play was THE
+   SPANISH FRIAR, the only play forbid by the late K[ing], Some
+   unhappy expressions, among which those that follow, put her in some
+   disorder, and forced her to hold up her fan, and often look behind
+   her, and call for her palatine and hood, and any thing she could
+   next think of; while those who were in the pit before her, turned
+   their heads over their shoulders, and all in general directed their
+   looks towards her, whenever their fancy led them to make any
+   application of what was said. In one place, where the queen of
+   Arragon is going to church in procession, 'tis said by a spectator,
+   'Very good; she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison,
+   and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing on her army;'--And
+   when said, 'That 'tis observed at Court, who weeps, and who wears
+   black for good king Sancho's death,' 'tis said, 'Who is that, that
+   can flatter a Court like this? Can I sooth tyranny? seem pleas'd to
+   see my Royal Master murthered; his crown usurped; a distaff in the
+   throne?'--And 'What title has this queen, but lawless force; and
+   force must pull her down'--Twenty more things are said, which may
+   be wrested to what they were never designed: but however, the
+   observations then made furnished the town with talk, till something
+   else happened, which gave it much occasion for discourse; for
+   another play being ordered to be acted, the queen came not, being
+   taken up with other diversion. She dined with Mrs Gradens, the
+   famous woman in the hall, that sells fine laces and head-dresses;
+   from thence she went to the Jew's, that sells Indian things; to Mrs
+   Ferguson's, De Vett's, Mrs Harrison's, and other Indian houses; but
+   not to Mrs Potter's, though in her way; which caused Mrs Potter to
+   say, that she might as well have hoped for that honour as others,
+   considering that the whole design of bringing the queen and king
+   was managed at her house, and the consultations held there; so that
+   she might as well have thrown away a little money in raffling
+   there, as well as at the other houses: but it seems that my lord
+   Devonshire has got Mrs Potter to be laundress: she has not much
+   countenance of the queen, her daughter still keeping the Indian
+   house her mother had. The same day the queen went to one Mrs
+   Wise's, a famous woman for telling fortunes, but could not prevail
+   with her to tell anything; though to others she has been very true,
+   and has foretold that king James shall came in again, and the duke
+   of Norfolk shall lose his head: the last, I suppose, will naturally
+   be the consequence of the first. These things, however innocent,
+   have passed the censure of the town: and, besides a private
+   reprimand given, the king gave one in _public_; saying to the
+   queen, that he heard she dined at a bawdy-house, and desired the
+   next time she went, he might go. She said, she had done nothing but
+   what the late queen had done. He asked her, if she meant to make
+   her, her example. More was said on this occasion than ever was
+   known before; but it was borne with all the submission of a good
+   wife, who leaves all to the direction of the k----, and diverts
+   herself with walking six or seven miles a-day, and looking after
+   her buildings, making of fringes, and such like innocent things;
+   and does not meddle in government, though she has better title to
+   do it than the late queen had."
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                          LORD HAUGHTON[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+When I first designed this play, I found, or thought I found, somewhat
+so moving in the serious part of it, and so pleasant in the comic, as
+might deserve a more than ordinary care in both; accordingly, I used
+the best of my endeavour, in the management of two plots, so very
+different from each other, that it was not perhaps the talent of every
+writer to have made them of a piece. Neither have I attempted other
+plays of the same nature, in my opinion, with the same judgment,
+though with like success. And though many poets may suspect themselves
+for the fondness and partiality of parents to their youngest children,
+yet I hope I may stand exempted from this rule, because I know myself
+too well to be ever satisfied with my own conceptions, which have
+seldom reached to those ideas that I had within me; and consequently,
+I may presume to have liberty to judge when I write more or less
+pardonably, as an ordinary marksman may know certainly when he shoots
+less wide at what he aims. Besides, the care and pains I have bestowed
+on this, beyond my other tragi-comedies, may reasonably make the world
+conclude, that either I can do nothing tolerably, or that this poem is
+not much amiss. Few good pictures have been finished at one sitting;
+neither can a true just play, which is to bear the test of ages, be
+produced at a heat, or by the force of fancy, without the maturity of
+judgment. For my own part, I have both so just a diffidence of myself,
+and so great a reverence for my audience, that I dare venture nothing
+without a strict examination; and am as much ashamed to put a loose
+indigested play upon the public, as I should be to offer brass money
+in a payment; for though it should be taken, (as it is too often on
+the stage) yet it would be found in the second telling; and a
+judicious reader will discover, in his closet, that trashy stuff,
+whose glittering deceived him in the action. I have often heard the
+stationer sighing in his shop, and wishing for those hands to take off
+his melancholy bargain, which clapped its performance on the stage. In
+a playhouse, every thing contributes to impose upon the judgment; the
+lights, the scenes, the habits, and, above all, the grace of action,
+which is commonly the best where there is the most need of it,
+surprise the audience, and cast a mist upon their understandings; not
+unlike the cunning of a juggler, who is always staring us in the face,
+and over-whelming us with gibberish, only that he may gain the
+opportunity of making the cleaner conveyance of his trick. But these
+false beauties of the stage are no more lasting than a rainbow; when
+the actor ceases to shine upon them, when he gilds them no longer with
+his reflection, they vanish in a twinkling. I have sometimes wondered,
+in the reading, what was become of those glaring colours which amazed
+me in "Bussy D'Amboys" upon the theatre; but when I had taken up what
+I supposed a fallen star, I found I had been cozened with a jelly[2];
+nothing but a cold, dull mass, which glittered no longer than it was
+shooting; a dwarfish thought, dressed up in gigantic words, repetition
+in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross hyperboles; the sense
+of one line expanded prodigiously into ten; and, to sum up all,
+uncorrect English, and a hideous mingle of false poetry, and true
+nonsense; or, at best, a scantling of wit, which lay gasping for life,
+and groaning beneath a heap of rubbish. A famous modern poet used to
+sacrifice every year a Statius to Virgil's manes[3]; and I have
+indignation enough to burn a D'AMBOIS annually, to the memory of
+Jonson[4]. But now, my lord, I am sensible, perhaps too late, that I
+have gone too far: for, I remember some verses of my own Maximin and
+Almanzor, which cry vengeance upon me for their extravagance, and
+which I wish heartily in the same fire with Statius and Chapman. All I
+can say for those passages, which are, I hope, not many, is, that I
+knew they were bad enough to please, even when I wrote them; but I
+repent of them amongst my sins; and, if any of their fellows intrude
+by chance into my present writings, I draw a stroke over all those
+Dalilah's of the theatre; and am resolved I will settle myself no
+reputation by the applause of fools. It is not that I am mortified to
+all ambition, but I scorn as much to take it from half-witted judges,
+as I should to raise an estate by cheating of bubbles. Neither do I
+discommend the lofty style in tragedy, which is naturally pompous and
+magnificent; but nothing is truly sublime, that is not just and
+proper. If the antients had judged by the same measure, which a common
+reader takes, they had concluded Statius to have written higher than
+Virgil, for,
+
+  _Quae super-imposito moles geminata Colosso_
+
+carries a more thundering kind of sound, than
+
+  _Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi:_
+
+yet Virgil had all the majesty of a lawful prince, and Statius only
+the blustering of a tyrant. But when men affect a virtue which they
+cannot easily reach, they fall into a vice, which bears the nearest
+resemblance to it. Thus, an injudicious poet, who aims at loftiness,
+runs easily into the swelling puffy style, because it looks like
+greatness. I remember, when I was a boy, I thought inimitable Spencer
+a mean poet, in comparison of Sylvester's "Dubartas," and was wrapt
+into an ecstasy when I read these lines:
+
+  Now, when the winter's keener breath began
+  To crystalize the Baltic ocean;
+  To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods,
+  And periwig with snow the bald-pate woods:--[5]
+
+I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian, that is,
+thoughts and words ill-sorted, and without the least relation to each
+other; yet I dare not answer for an audience, that they would not clap
+it on the stage: so little value there is to be given to the common
+cry, that nothing but madness can please madmen, and the poet must be
+of a piece with the spectators, to gain a reputation with them. But,
+as in a room, contrived for state, the height of the roof should bear
+a proportion to the area; so, in the heightenings of poetry, the
+strength and vehemence of figures should be suited to the occasion,
+the subject, and the persons. All beyond this is monstrous: it is out
+of nature, it is an excrescence, and not a living part of poetry. I
+had not said thus much, if some young gallants, who pretend to
+criticism, had not told me, that this tragi-comedy wanted the dignity
+of style; but, as a man, who is charged with a crime of which he
+thinks himself innocent, is apt to be too eager in his own defence;
+so, perhaps, I have vindicated my play with more partiality than I
+ought, or than such a trifle can deserve. Yet, whatever beauties it
+may want, it is free at least from the grossness of those faults I
+mentioned: what credit it has gained upon the stage, I value no
+farther than in reference to my profit, and the satisfaction I had, in
+seeing it represented with all the justness and gracefulness of
+action. But, as it is my interest to please my audience, so it is my
+ambition to be read: that I am sure is the more lasting and the nobler
+design: for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden
+beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of
+action: all things are there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the
+objects only glide before the eye, and disappear. The most discerning
+critic can judge no more of these silent graces in the action, than he
+who rides post through an unknown country can distinguish the
+situation of places, and the nature of the soil. The purity of phrase,
+the clearness of conception and expression, the boldness maintained to
+majesty, the significancy and sound of words, not strained into
+bombast, but justly elevated; in short, those very words and thoughts,
+which cannot be changed, but for the worse, must of necessity escape
+our transient view upon the theatre; and yet, without all these, a
+play may take. For, if either the story move us, or the actor help the
+lameness of it with his performance, or now and then a glittering beam
+of wit or passion strike through the obscurity of the poem, any of
+these are sufficient to effect a present liking, but not to fix a
+lasting admiration; for nothing but truth can long continue; and time
+is the surest judge of truth. I am not vain enough to think that I
+have left no faults in this, which that touchstone will not discover;
+neither, indeed, is it possible to avoid them in a play of this
+nature. There are evidently two actions in it; but it will be clear to
+any judicious man, that with half the pains I could have raised a play
+from either of them; for this time I satisfied my humour, which was to
+tack two plays together; and to break a rule for the pleasure of
+variety. The truth is, the audience are grown weary of continued
+melancholy scenes; and I dare venture to prophecy, that few tragedies,
+except those in verse, shall succeed in this age, if they are not
+lightened with a course of mirth; for the feast is too dull and solemn
+without the fiddles. But how difficult a task this is, will soon be
+tried; for a several genius is required to either way; and, without
+both of them, a man, in my opinion, is but half a poet for the stage.
+Neither is it so trivial an undertaking, to make a tragedy end
+happily; for it is more difficult to save, than it is to kill. The
+dagger and the cup of poison are always in a readiness; but to bring
+the action to the last extremity, and then by probable means to
+recover all, will require the art and judgement of a writer; and cost
+him many a pang in the performance.
+
+And now, my lord, I must confess, that what I have written, looks more
+like a Preface, than a Dedication; and, truly, it was thus far my
+design, that I might entertain you with somewhat in my own art, which
+might be more worthy of a noble mind, than the stale exploded trick of
+fulsome panegyrics. It is difficult to write justly on any thing, but
+almost impossible in praise. I shall therefore wave so nice a subject;
+and only tell you, that, in recommending a protestant play to a
+protestant patron, as I do myself an honour, so I do your noble family
+a right, who have been always eminent in the support and favour of our
+religion and liberties. And if the promises of your youth, your
+education at home, and your experience abroad, deceive me not, the
+principles you have embraced are such, as will no way degenerate from
+your ancestors, but refresh their memory in the minds of all true
+Englishmen, and renew their lustre in your person; which, my lord, is
+not more the wish, than it is the constant expectation, of
+
+  Your lordship's
+    Most obedient, faithful servant,
+      JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John, Lord Haughton, eldest son of the Earl of Clare. succeeded to
+   his father, was created Marquis of Clare, and died 1711, leaving an
+   only daughter, who married the eldest son of the famous Robert
+   Harley, Earl of Oxford.
+
+2. See note on OEdipus, p. 151.
+
+3. Dryden appears to have alluded to the following passage in Strada,
+   though without a very accurate recollection of its contents: _"Sane
+   Andreas Naugerius Valerio Martiali acriter infensus, solemne jam
+   habebat in illum aliquanto petulantius jocari. Etenim natali suo,
+   accitis ad geniale epulum amicis, postquam prolixe de poeticae
+   laudibus super mensam disputaverat; ostensurum se aiebat a caena,
+   quo tandem modo laudari poesim deceret: Mox aferri jubebat
+   Martialis volumen, (haec erat mensae appendix) atque igni proprior
+   factus, illustri conflagratione absumendum flammis imponebat:
+   addebatque eo incendio litare se Musis, Manibusque Virgilij, cujus
+   imitatorem cultoremque prestare se melius haud posset, quam si
+   vilia poetarum capita per undas insecutus ac flammas perpetuo
+   perdidisset. Nec se eo loco tenuit, sed cum Silvas aliquot ab se
+   conscriptas legisset, audissetque Statianu characteri similes
+   videri, iratus sibi, quod a Martiale fugiens alio declinasset a
+   Virgilio, cum primum se recessit domum, in Silvas conjecit ignem."_
+   _Stradae Prolusiones_, Lib. II. Pro. 5. From this passage, it is
+   obvious, that it was Martial, not Statius, whom Andreas Navagero
+   sacrificed to Virgil, although he burned his own verses when they
+   were accused of a resemblance to the style of the author of the
+   Thebaid. In the same prolusion, Strada quotes the "blustering"
+   line, afterwards censured by Dryden; but erroneously reads,
+
+     Super imposito moles _gemmata_ colosso.
+
+4. "Bussy D'Ambois," a tragedy, once much applauded, was the favourite
+   production of George Chapman. If Dryden could have exhausted every
+   copy of this bombast performance in one holocaust, the public would
+   have been no great losers, as may be apparent from the following
+   quotations:
+
+     _Bussy._ I'll sooth his plots, and strew my hate with smiles,
+     Till, all at once, the close mines of my heart
+     Rise at full state, and rush into his blood.
+     I'll bind his arm in silk, and rub his flesh,
+     To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush
+     Into some kennel, where it loves to lie;
+     And policy be flanked with policy.
+     Yet shall the feeling centre, where we meet.
+     Groan with the weight of my approaching feet.
+     I'll make the inspired threshold of his court
+     Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps,
+     Before I enter; yet, I will appear
+     Like calm securitie, befor a ruin.
+     A politician must, like lightning, melt
+     The very marrow, and not taint the skin;
+     His wayes must not be seen through, the superficies
+     Of the green centre must not taste his feet,
+     When hell is plowed up with the wounding tracts,
+     And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.
+
+   Montsurry, when he discovers that the Friar had acted as confident
+   in the intrigue betwixt his lady and d'Ambois, thus elegantly
+   expresses the common idea of the world being turned _upside down._
+
+       Now, is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;
+     Even heaven itself must see and suffer ill.
+     The too huge bias of the world hath swayed
+     Her back-part upwards, and with _that_ she braves
+     This hemisphere, that long her month hath mocked.
+     The gravity of her religious face,
+     Now grown too weighty with her sacrilege,
+     And here discerned sophisticate enough,
+     Turns to the antipodes, and all the forms
+     That here allusions have impressed in her,
+     Have eaten through her back, and now all see
+     How she is riveted with hypocrisie.
+
+   Yet, I observe, from the prologue to the edition of 1641, that the
+   part of D'Ambois was considered as a high test of a players'
+   talents:
+
+       --Field is gone,
+     Whose action first did give it name; and one
+     Who came the neatest to him, is denied,
+     By his grey beard, to shew the height and pride
+     Of d'Ambois' youth and braverie. Yet to hold
+     Our title still a-foot, and not grow cold,
+     By giving't o'er, a third man with his best
+     Of care and paines defends our interest.
+     As Richard he was liked, nor do we fear,
+     In personating d'Ambois, heile appear
+     To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent,
+     As heretofore, give him encouragement.
+
+   I believe the successor of Field, in this once favourite character,
+   was Hart. The piece was revived after the Restoration with great
+   success.
+
+5. Dryden has elsewhere ridiculed this absurd passage. The original
+   has "periwig with _wool_."
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Now, luck for us, and a kind hearty pit;
+  For he, who pleases, never fails of wit:
+  Honour is yours;
+  And you, like kings at city-treats, bestow it;
+  The writer kneels, and is bid rise a poet;
+  But you are fickle sovereigns, to our sorrow;
+  You dub to-day, and hang a man to-morrow:
+  You cry the same sense up, and down again,
+  Just like brass-money once a year in Spain:
+  Take you in the mood, whate'er base metal come,
+  You coin as fast as groats at Birmingham:
+  Though 'tis no more like sense, in antient plays,
+  Than Rome's religion like St Peter's days.
+  In short, so swift your judgments turn and wind,
+  You cast our fleetest wits a mile behind.
+  'Twere well your judgments but in plays did range,
+  But e'en your follies and debauches change
+  With such a whirl, the poets of our age
+  Are tired, and cannot score them on the stage;
+  Unless each vice in short-hand they indict,
+  Even as notch'd prentices whole sermons write[1].
+  The heavy Hollanders no vices know,
+  But what they used a hundred years ago;
+  Like honest plants, where they were stuck, they grow.
+  They cheat, but still from cheating sires they come;
+  They drink, but they were christened first in mum.
+  Their patrimonial sloth the Spaniards keep,
+  And Philip first taught Philip how to sleep.
+  The French and we still change; but here's the curse,
+  They change for better, and we change for worse;
+  They take up our old trade of conquering,
+  And we are taking theirs, to dance and sing:
+  Our fathers did, for change, to France repair,
+  And they, for change, will try our English air;
+  As children, when they throw one toy away,
+  Strait a more foolish gewgaw comes in play:
+  So we, grown penitent, on serious thinking,
+  Leave whoring, and devoutly fall to drinking.
+  Scowering the watch grows out-of-fashion wit:
+  Now we set up for tilting in the pit,
+  Where 'tis agreed by bullies chicken-hearted,
+  To fright the ladies first, and then be parted.
+  A fair attempt has twice or thrice been made,
+  To hire night murderers, and make death a trade[2].
+  When murder's out, what vice can we advance?
+  Unless the new-found poisoning trick of France:
+  And, when their art of rats-bane we have got,
+  By way of thanks, we'll send them o'er our plot.
+
+
+Footnotes
+1. It was anciently a part of the apprentice's duty, not only to carry
+   the family bible to church, but to take notes of the sermon for the
+   edification of his master or mistress.
+
+2. Alluding apparently to the assassination of Thomas Thynne, esq. in
+   Pall-Mall, by the hired bravoes of count Coningsmark.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  TORRISMOND, _Son of_ SANCHO, _the deposed King, believing
+              himself Son of_ RAYMOND.
+  BERTRAN, _a Prince of the blood._
+  ALPHONSO, _a general Officer, Brother to_ RAYMOND.
+  LORENZO, _his Son._
+  RAYMOND, _a Nobleman, supposed Father of_ TORRISMOND.
+  PEDRO, _an Officer._
+  GOMEZ, _an old Usurer._
+  DOMINICK, _the Spanish Friar._
+
+  LEONORA, _Queen of Arragon._
+  TERESA, _Woman to_ LEONORA.
+  ELVIRA, _Wife to_ GOMEZ.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            SPANISH FRIAR:
+
+                                OR THE
+
+                          DOUBLE DISCOVERY.
+
+
+ACT I.--SCENE I.
+
+  ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO _meet, with Soldiers on each Side, Drums, &c._
+
+_Alph._ Stand: give the word.
+
+_Ped._ The queen of Arragon.
+
+_Alph._ Pedro?--how goes the night?
+
+_Ped._ She wears apace.
+
+_Alph._ Then welcome day-light; we shall have warm work on't.
+The Moor will 'gage
+His utmost forces on this next assault,
+To win a queen and kingdom.
+
+_Ped._ Pox on this lion-way of wooing, though.
+Is the queen stirring yet?
+
+_Alph._ She has not been abed, but in her chapel
+All night devoutly watched, and bribed the saints
+With vows for her deliverance.
+
+_Ped._ O, Alphonso!
+I fear they come too late. Her father's crimes
+Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers.
+A crown usurped; a lawful king deposed,
+In bondage held, debarred the common light;
+His children murdered, and his friends destroyed,--
+What can we less expect than what we feel,
+And what we fear will follow?
+
+_Alph._ Heaven avert it!
+
+_Ped._ Then heaven must not be heaven. Judge the event
+By what has passed. The usurper joyed not long
+His ill-got crown:--'tis true, he died in peace,--
+Unriddle that, ye powers!--but left his daughter,
+Our present queen, engaged upon his death-bed,
+To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed father
+Had helped to make him great.
+Hence, you well know, this fatal war arose;
+Because the Moor Abdalla, with whose troops
+The usurper gained the kingdom, was refused;
+And, as an infidel, his love despised.
+
+_Alph._ Well, we are soldiers, Pedro; and, like lawyers,
+Plead for our pay.
+
+_Ped._ A good cause would do well though:
+It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran
+Has now three times been beaten by the Moors:
+What hope we have, is in young Torrismond,
+Your brother's son.
+
+_Alph._ He's a successful warrior,
+And has the soldiers' hearts: upon the skirts
+Of Arragon our squandered troops he rallies.
+Our watchmen from the towers with longing eyes
+Expect his swift arrival.
+
+_Ped._ It must be swift, or it will come too late.
+
+_Alph._ No more.--Duke Bertran.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN _attended._
+
+_Bert._ Relieve the sentries that have watched all night.
+[_To Ped._] Now, colonel, have you disposed your men,
+That you stand idle here?
+
+_Ped._ Mine are drawn off
+To take a short repose.
+
+_Bert._ Short let it be:
+For, from the Moorish camp, this hour and more,
+There has been heard a distant humming noise,
+Like bees disturbed, and arming in their hives.
+What courage in our soldiers? Speak! What hope?
+
+_Ped._ As much as when physicians shake their heads,
+And bid their dying patient think of heaven.
+Our walls are thinly manned; our best men slain;
+The rest, an heartless number, spent with watching,
+And harassed out with duty.
+
+_Bert._ Good-night all, then.
+
+_Ped._ Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life
+I have to lose. I'll plant my colours down
+In the mid-breach, and by them fix my foot;
+Say a short soldier's prayer, to spare the trouble
+Of my new friends above; and then expect
+The next fair bullet.
+
+_Alph._ Never was known a night of such distraction;
+Noise so confused and dreadful; jostling crowds.
+That run, and know not whither; torches gliding,
+Like meteors, by each other in the streets.
+
+_Ped._ I met a reverend, fat, old gouty friar,--
+With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin
+Might rest upon it; a true son of the church;
+Fresh-coloured, well thriven on his trade,--
+Come puffing with his greasy bald-pate choir,
+And fumbling o'er his beads in such an agony,
+He told them false, for fear. About his neck
+There hung a wench, the label of his function,
+Whom he shook off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.
+It seems the holy stallion durst not score
+Another sin, before he left the world.
+
+  _Enter a Captain._
+
+_Capt._ To arms, my lord, to arms!
+From the Moors' camp the noise grows louder still:
+Rattling of armour, trumpets, drums, and ataballes;
+And sometimes peals of shouts that rend the heavens,
+Like victory: then groans again, and howlings,
+Like those of vanquished men; but every echo
+Goes fainter off, and dies in distant sounds.
+
+_Bert._ Some false attack: expect on t'other side.
+One to the gunners on St Jago's tower; bid them, for shame,
+Level their cannon lower: On my soul
+They are all corrupted with the gold of Barbary,
+To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.
+
+  _Enter a second Captain._
+
+_2 Capt._ My lord, here's fresh intelligence arrived.
+Our army, led by valiant Torrismond,
+Is now in hot engagement with the Moors;
+'Tis said, within their trenches.
+
+_Bert._ I think all fortune is reserved for him!--
+He might have sent us word though;
+And then we could have favoured his attempt
+With sallies from the town.
+
+_Alph._ It could not be:
+We were so close blocked up, that none could peep
+Upon the walls and live. But yet 'tis time.
+
+_Bert._ No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:
+On pain of death, let no man dare to sally.
+
+_Ped._ Oh envy, envy, how it works within him!               [_Aside._
+How now? what means this show?
+
+_Alph._ 'Tis a procession.
+The queen is going to the great cathedral,
+To pray for our success against the Moors.
+
+_Ped._ Very good: she usurps the throne, keeps the old king in prison,
+and, at the same time, is praying for a blessing. Oh religion and
+roguery, how they go together!
+                    [_A Procession of Priests and Choristers in White,
+                     with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies,
+                     goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing,_
+
+  _Look down, ye blessed above, look down,
+    Behold our weeping matrons' tears,
+    Behold our tender virgins' fears,
+  And with success our armies crown.
+
+  Look down, ye blessed above, look down:
+    Oh! save us, save as, and our state restore;
+    For pity, pity, pity, we implore:
+  For pity, pity, pity, we implore._
+                   [_The Procession goes off; and shout within.  Then_
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, _who kneels to_ ALPHONSO.
+
+_Bert._ [_To Alph._] A joyful cry; and see your son
+Lorenzo. Good news, kind heaven!
+
+_Alph._ [_To Lor._]
+O welcome, welcome! is the general safe?
+How near our army? when shall we be succoured?
+Or, are we succoured? are the Moors removed?
+Answer these questions first, and then a thousand more;
+Answer them all together.
+
+_Lor._ Yes, when I have a thousand tongues, I will.
+The general's well; his army too is safe,
+As victory can make them. The Moors' king
+Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.
+At dawn of day our general cleft his pate,
+Spite of his woollen night-cap: a slight wound;
+Perhaps he may recover.
+
+_Alph._ Thou reviv'st me.
+
+_Ped._ By my computation now, the victory was gained before the
+procession was made for it; and yet it will go hard but the priests
+will make a miracle of it.
+
+_Lor._ Yes, faith; we came like bold intruding guests,
+And took them unprepared to give us welcome.
+Their scouts we killed, then found their body sleeping;
+And as they lay confused, we stumbled o'er them,
+And took what joint came next, arms, heads, or legs,
+Somewhat indecently. But when men want light,
+They make but bungling work.
+
+_Bert._ I'll to the queen,
+And bear the news.
+
+_Ped._ That's young Lorenzo's duty.
+
+_Bert._ I'll spare his trouble.--
+This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;
+He must be mine, or ruined.                        [_Aside, and Exit._
+
+_Lor._ Pedro a word:--[_whisper._]
+
+_Alph._ How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,
+In spite of his dissembling.
+[_To Lorenzo._] How many of the enemy are slain?
+
+_Lor._ Troth, sir, we were in haste, and could not stay
+To score the men we killed; but there they lie:
+Best send our women out to take the tale;
+There's circumcision in abundance for them. [_Turns to_ PEDRO _again._
+
+_Alph._ How far did you pursue them?
+
+_Lor._ Some few miles.--
+[_To Pedro_] Good store of harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?
+Pedro, they must be had, and speedily;
+I've kept a tedious fast.                            [_Whisper again._
+
+_Alph._ When will he make his entry? he deserves
+Such triumphs as were given by ancient Rome:
+Ha, boy, what say'st thou?
+
+_Lor._ As you say, sir, that Rome was very ancient.
+[_To Pedro._] I leave the choice to you; fair, black, tall, low,
+Let her but have a nose; and you may tell her,
+I am rich in jewels, rings, and bobbing pearls,
+Plucked from Moors' ears.
+
+_Alph._ Lorenzo.
+
+_Lor._ Somewhat busy
+About affairs relating to the public.--
+A seasonable girl, just in the nick now--                 [_To Pedro._
+                                                   [_Trumpets within._
+
+_Ped._ I hear the general's trumpet. Stand and mark
+How he will be received; I fear, but coldly.
+There hung a cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.
+
+_Lor._ Then look to see a storm on Torrismond's;
+Looks fright not men. The general has seen Moors
+With as bad faces; no dispraise to Bertran's.
+
+_Ped._ 'Twas rumoured in the camp, he loves the queen.
+
+_Lor._ He drinks her health devoutly.
+
+_Alph._ That may breed bad blood betwixt him and Bertran.
+
+_Ped._ Yes, in private.
+But Bertran has been taught the arts of court,
+To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin,
+O here they come.--
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND _and Officers on one Side,_ BERTRAN _attended on
+  the other; they embrace,_ BERTRAN _bowing low._
+
+Just as I prophesied.--
+
+_Lor._ Death and hell, he laughs at him!--in his face too.
+
+_Ped._ O you mistake him; 'twas an humble grin,
+The fawning joy of courtiers and of dogs.
+
+_Lor._ Here are nothing but lies to be expected: I'll even go lose
+myself in some blind alley, and try if any courteous damsel will think
+me worth the finding.                              [_Aside, and Exit._
+
+_Alph._ Now he begins to open.
+
+_Bert._ Your country rescued, and your queen relieved,--
+A glorious conquest, noble Torrismond!
+The people rend the skies with loud applause,
+And heaven can hear no other name but yours.
+The thronging crowds press on you as you pass,
+And with their eager joy make triumph slow.
+
+_Torr._ My lord, I have no taste
+Of popular applause; the noisy praise
+Of giddy crowds, as changeable as winds;
+Still vehement, and still without a cause;
+Servant to chance, and blowing in the tide
+Of swoln success; but veering with its ebb,
+It leaves the channel dry.
+
+_Bert._ So young a stoick!
+
+_Torr._ You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop
+Within these veins for pageants; but, let honour
+Call for my blood, and sluice it into streams:
+Turn fortune loose again to my pursuit,
+And let me hunt her through embattled foes,
+In dusty plains, amidst the cannons' roar,
+There will I be the first.
+
+_Bert._ I'll try him farther.--                              [_Aside._
+Suppose the assembled states of Arragon
+Decree a statue to you, thus inscribed:
+"To Torrismond, who freed his native land."
+
+_Alph._ [_To Ped._]
+Mark how he sounds and fathoms him,
+To find the shallows of his soul!
+
+_Bert._ The just applause
+Of god-like senates, is the stamp of virtue,
+Which makes it pass unquestioned through the world.
+These honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage
+Be last to fix them on you. If refused,
+You brand us all with black ingratitude:
+For times to come shall say,--Our Spain, like Rome,
+Neglects her champions after noble acts,
+And lets their laurels wither on their heads.
+
+_Torr._ A statue, for a battle blindly fought,
+Where darkness and surprise made conquest cheap!
+Where virtue borrowed but the arms of chance,
+And struck a random blow!--'Twas fortune's work,
+And fortune take the praise.
+
+_Bert._ Yet happiness
+Is the first fame. Virtue without success
+Is a fair picture shewn by an ill light;
+But lucky men are favourites of heaven:
+And whom should kings esteem above heaven's darlings?
+The praises of a young and beauteous queen
+Shall crown your glorious acts.
+
+_Ped._ [_To Alph._] There sprung the mine.
+
+_Torr._ The queen! that were a happiness too great!
+Named you the queen, my lord?
+
+_Bert._ Yes: you have seen her, and you must confess,
+A praise, a smile, a look from her is worth
+The shouts of thousand amphitheatres.
+She, she shall praise you, for I can oblige her:
+To-morrow will deliver all her charms
+Into my arms, and make her mine for ever.--
+Why stand you mute?
+
+_Torr._ Alas! I cannot speak.
+
+_Bert._ Not speak, my lord! How were your thoughts employed?
+
+_Torr._ Nor can I think, or I am lost in thought.
+
+_Bert._ Thought of the queen, perhaps?
+
+_Torr._ Why, if it were,
+Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.
+
+_Bert._ O, now I find where your ambition drives!
+You ought not to think of her.
+
+_Torr._ So I say too,
+I ought not; madmen ought not to be mad;
+But who can help his frenzy?
+
+_Bert._ Fond young man!
+The wings of your ambition must be clipt:
+Your shame-faced virtue shunned the people's praise,
+And senate's honours: But 'tis well we know
+What price you hold yourself at. You have fought
+With some success, and that has sealed your pardon.
+
+_Torr._ Pardon from thee!--O, give me patience, heaven!--
+Thrice vanquished Bertran, if thou dar'st, look out
+Upon yon slaughtered host, that field of blood;
+There seal my pardon, where thy fame was lost.
+
+_Ped._ He's ruined, past redemption!
+
+_Alph._ [_To_ TORR.] Learn respect
+To the first prince of the blood.
+
+_Bert._ O, let him rave!
+I'll not contend with madmen.
+
+_Torr._ I have done:
+I know, 'twas madness to declare this truth:
+And yet, 'twere baseness to deny my love.
+'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;
+Lighter than children's bubbles blown by winds:
+My merit's but the rash result of chance;
+My birth unequal; all the stars against me:
+Power, promise, choice, the living and the dead;
+Mankind my foes; and only love to friend:
+But such a love, kept at such awful distance,
+As, what it loudly dares to tell a rival,
+Shall fear to whisper there. Queens may be loved,
+And so may gods; else why are altars raised?
+Why shines the sun, but that he may be viewed?
+But, oh! when he's too bright, if then we gaze,
+'Tis but to weep, and close our eyes in darkness.             [_Exit._
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis well; the goddess shall be told, she shall,
+Of her new worshipper.                                        [_Exit._
+
+_Ped._ So, here's fine work!
+He has supplied his only foe with arms
+For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale
+Inverted; he has unravelled all by day,
+That he has done by night. What, planet struck!
+
+_Alph._ I wish I were; to be past sense of this!
+
+_Ped._ Would I had but a lease of life so long,
+As 'till my flesh and blood rebelled this way,
+Against our sovereign lady;--mad for a queen?
+With a globe in one hand, and a sceptre in t'other?
+A very pretty moppet!
+
+_Alph._ Then to declare his madness to his rival!
+His father absent on an embassy;
+Himself a stranger almost; wholly friendless!
+A torrent, rolling down a precipice,
+Is easier to be stopt, than is his ruin.
+
+_Ped._ 'Tis fruitless to complain; haste to the court;
+Improve your interest there for pardon from the queen.
+
+_Alph._ Weak remedies;
+But all must be attempted.                                    [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ Well, I am the most unlucky rogue! I have been ranging over
+half the town; but have sprung no game. Our women are worse infidels
+than the Moors: I told them I was one of the knight-errants, that
+delivered them from ravishment; and I think in my conscience, that is
+their quarrel to me.
+
+_Ped._ Is this a time for fooling? Your cousin is run honourably mad
+in love with her majesty; he is split upon a rock, and you, who are in
+chase of harlots, are sinking in the main ocean. I think, the devil's
+in the family.                                                [_Exit._
+
+_Lor._ [_Solus._] My cousin ruined, says he! hum, not that I wish my
+kinsman's ruin; that were unchristian: but, if the general is ruined,
+I am heir; there's comfort for a Christian! Money I have; I thank the
+honest Moors for it; but I want a mistress. I am willing to be lewd;
+but the tempter is wanting on his part.
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA, _veiled._
+
+_Elv._ Stranger! Cavalier!--will you not hear me? you Moor-killer, you
+Matador!--
+
+_Lor._ Meaning me, madam?
+
+_Elv._ Face about, man! you a soldier, and afraid of the enemy!
+
+_Lor._ I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first: I
+see souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this devil's
+reign. [_Aside._] Now, Madam Cynthia, behind a cloud, your will and
+pleasure with me?
+
+_Elv._ You have the appearance of a cavalier; and if you are as
+deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your adventure.
+If a lady like you well enough to hold discourse with you at first
+sight; you are gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an
+apology, and to lay the blame on stars, or destiny, or what you
+please, to excuse the frailty of a woman?
+
+_Lor._ O, I love an easy woman! there's such ado, to crack a
+thick-shelled mistress; we break our teeth, and find no kernel. 'Tis
+generous in you, to take pity on a stranger, and not to suffer him to
+fall into ill hands at his first arrival.
+
+_Elv._ You may have a better opinion of me than I deserve; you have
+not seen me yet; and, therefore, I am confident you are heart-whole.
+
+_Lor._ Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I am drawing on
+apace: you have a dangerous tongue in your head, I can tell you that;
+and if your eyes prove of as killing metal, there is but one way with
+me. Let me see you, for the safeguard of my honour; 'tis but decent
+the cannon should be drawn down upon me before I yield.
+
+_Elv._ What a terrible similitude have you made, colonel, to shew that
+you are inclining to the wars? I could answer you with another in my
+profession: Suppose you were in want of money, would you not be glad
+to take a sum upon content in a sealed bag, without peeping?--but,
+however, I will not stand with you for a sample. [_Lifts up her veil._
+
+_Lor._ What eyes were there! how keen their glances! you do well to
+keep them veiled; they are too sharp to be trusted out of the
+scabbard.
+
+_Elv._ Perhaps now, you may accuse my forwardness; but this day of
+jubilee is the only time of freedom I have had; and there is nothing
+so extravagant as a prisoner, when he gets loose a little, and is
+immediately to return into his fetters.
+
+_Lor._ To confess freely to you, madam, I was never in love with less
+than your whole sex before; but now I have seen you, I am in the
+direct road of languishing and sighing; and, if love goes on as it
+begins, for aught I know, by to-morrow morning you may hear of me in
+rhyme and sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not like these symptoms in
+myself. Perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I was never before
+walked in trammels; yet, I shall drudge and moil at constancy, till I
+have worn off the hitching in my pace.
+
+_Elv._ Oh, sir, there are arts to reclaim the wildest men, as there
+are to make spaniels fetch and carry: chide them often, and feed them
+seldom. Now I know your temper, you may thank yourself, if you are
+kept to hard meat. You are in for years, if you make love to me.
+
+_Lor._ I hate a formal obligation with an _Anno Domini_ at end on't;
+there may be an evil meaning in the word years, called matrimony.
+
+_Elv._ I can easily rid you of that fear: I wish I could rid myself as
+easily of the bondage.
+
+_Lor._ Then you are married?
+
+_Elv._ If a covetous, and a jealous, and an old man be a husband.
+
+_Lor._ Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish: now
+love be praised!
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA'S _Duenna, and whispers to her._
+
+_Elv._ [_Aside._] If I get not home before my husband, I shall be
+ruined. [_To him._] I dare not stay to tell you where.
+Farewell!--Could I once more--                                [_Exit._
+
+_Lor._ This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a slave, and know
+not whose livery I wear. Who have we yonder?
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ.
+
+By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old banker, Gomez,
+whom I knew at Barcelona: As I live 'tis he!--What, old Mammon here!
+                                                          [_To_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Gom._ How! young Beelzebub?
+
+_Lor._ What devil has set his claws in thy haunches, and brought thee
+hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther journey with thee.
+
+_Gom._ I always remove before the enemy: When the Moors are ready to
+besiege one town, I shift quarters to the next; I keep as far from the
+infidels as I can.
+
+_Lor._ That's but a hair's breadth at farthest.
+
+_Gom._ Well, you have got a famous victory; all true subjects are
+overjoyed at it: There are bonfires decreed; an the times had not been
+hard, my billet should have burnt too.
+
+_Lor._ I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single
+billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it; thou
+art for saving every thing but thy soul.
+
+_Gom._ Well, well, you'll not believe me generous, 'till I carry you
+to the tavern, and crack half a pint with you at my own charges.
+
+_Lor._ No; I'll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an
+extravagance; and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal
+courtesy. I have just now seen a most incomparable young lady.
+
+_Gom._ Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young lady?--My
+mind misgives me plaguily.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Lor._ Here, man, just before this corner-house: Pray heaven, it prove
+no bawdy-house.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] Pray heaven, he does not make it one!
+
+_Lor._ What dost thou mutter to thyself? Hast thou any thing to say
+against the honesty of that house?
+
+_Gom._ Not I, colonel; the walls are very honest stone, and the timber
+very honest wood, for aught I know; but for the woman, I cannot say,
+till I know her better: Describe her person, and, if she live in this
+quarter, I may give you tidings of her.
+
+_Lor._ She is of a middle stature, dark-coloured hair, the most
+bewitching leer with her eyes, the most roguish cast! her cheeks are
+dimpled when she smiles, and her smiles would tempt an hermit.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] I am dead, I am buried, I am damned.--Go on,
+colonel; have you no other marks of her?
+
+_Lor._ Thou hast all her marks; but she has a husband, a jealous,
+covetous, old hunks: Speak! canst thou tell me news of her?
+
+_Gom._ Yes; this news, colonel, that you have seen your last of her.
+
+_Lor._ If thou help'st me not to the knowledge of her, thou art a
+circumcised Jew.
+
+_Gom._ Circumcise me no more than I circumcise you, colonel Hernando:
+Once more, you have seen your last of her.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] I am glad he knows me only by that name of Hernando,
+by which I went at Barcelona; now he can tell no tales of me to my
+father.--[_To him._] Come, thou wer't ever good-natured, when thou
+couldst get by it--Look here, rogue; 'tis of the right damning colour:
+Thou art not proof against gold, sure!--Do not I know thee for a
+covetous--
+
+_Gom._ Jealous old hunks? those were the marks of your mistress's
+husband, as I remember, colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Oh the devil! What a rogue in understanding was I, not to find
+him out sooner!                                              [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Do, do, look sillily, good colonel; 'tis a decent melancholy
+after an absolute defeat.
+
+_Lor._ Faith, not for that, clear Gomez; but--
+
+_Gom._ But--no pumping, my dear colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Hang pumping! I was thinking a little upon a point of
+gratitude. We two have been long acquaintance; I know thy merits, and
+can make some interest;--Go to; thou wert born to authority; I'll make
+thee Alcaide, Mayor of Saragossa.
+
+_Gom._ Satisfy yourself; you shall not make me what you think,
+colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Faith, but I will; thou hast the face of a magistrate already.
+
+_Gom._ And you would provide me with a magistrate's head to my
+magistrate's face; I thank you, colonel.
+
+_Lor._ Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle story! That woman I
+saw, I mean that little, crooked, ugly woman,--for t'other was a
+lie,--is no more thy wife,--As I'll go home with thee, and satisfy
+thee immediately, my dear friend.
+
+_Gom._ I shall not put you to that trouble; no, not so much as a
+single visit; not so much as an embassy by a civil old woman, nor a
+serenade of _twinkledum twinkledum_ under my windows; nay, I will
+advise you, out of my tenderness to your person, that you walk not
+near yon corner-house by night; for, to my certain knowledge, there
+are blunderbusses planted in every loop-hole, that go off constantly
+of their own accord, at the squeaking of a fiddle, and the thrumming
+of a guitar.
+
+_Lor._ Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open war against thee;
+I'll demolish thy citadel by force; or, at least, I'll bring my whole
+regiment upon thee; my thousand red locusts, that shall devour thee in
+free quarters. Farewell, wrought night-cap.           [_Exit_ LORENZO.
+
+_Gom._ Farewell, Buff. Free quarters for a regiment of red-coat
+locusts? I hope to see them all in the Red-Sea first! But oh, this
+Jezabel of mine! I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her an
+ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
+incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not to church for
+confession; and, for never going, she shall be condemned for a
+heretic. She shall have stripes by Troy weight, and sustenance by
+drachms and scruples: Nay, I'll have a fasting almanack, printed on
+purpose for her use, in which
+  No Carnival nor Christmas shall appear,
+  But lents and ember-weeks shall fill the year.              [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Queen's Antechamber._
+
+  _Enter_ ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Alph._ When saw you my Lorenzo?
+
+_Ped._ I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me,
+Like a young hound upon a burning scent;
+He's gone a harlot-hunting.
+
+_Alph._ His foreign breeding might have taught him better.
+
+_Ped._ 'Tis that has taught him this.
+What learn our youth abroad, but to refine
+The homely vices of their native land?
+Give me an honest home-spun country clown
+Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain,
+But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools,
+But come back fops.
+
+_Alph._ You know what reasons urged me;
+But now, I have accomplished my designs,
+I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots
+Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close,
+Did not the threatened downfal of our house,
+In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN, _attended, and whispering with a Courtier, aside._
+
+_Bert._ I would not have her think, he dared to love her;
+If he presume to own it, she's so proud,
+He tempts his certain ruin.
+
+_Alph._ [_To_ PED.]
+Mark how disdainfully he throws his eyes on us.
+Our old imprisoned king wore no such looks.
+
+_Ped._ O! would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,
+And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho,
+I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his trumpets,
+And Torrismond but whistle through his fingers,
+He draws his army off.
+
+_Alph._ I told him so;
+But had an answer louder than a storm.
+
+_Ped._ Now, plague and pox on his smock-loyalty!
+I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted,
+Made sour and senseless, turned to whey by love;
+A drivelling hero, fit for a romance.--
+O, here he comes! what will their greetings be?
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, _attended;_ BERTRAN _and he meet and jostle._
+
+_Bert._ Make way, my lords, and let the pageant pass.
+
+_Tor._ I make my way, where'er I see my foe;
+But you, my lord, are good at a retreat.
+I have no Moors behind me.
+
+_Bert._ Death and hell!
+Dare to speak thus when you come out again.
+
+_Tor._ Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man!
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA.
+
+_Ter._ My lords, you are too loud so near the queen;
+You, Torrismond, have much offended her.
+'Tis her command you instantly appear,
+To answer your demeanour to the prince.
+                           [_Exit_ TERESA; BERTRAN, _with his company,
+                            follow her._
+
+_Tor._ O, Pedro, O, Alphonso, pity me!
+A grove of pikes,
+Whose polished steel from far severely shines,
+Are not so dreadful as this beauteous queen.
+
+_Alph._ Call up your courage timely to your aid,
+And, like a lion, pressed upon the toils,
+Leap on your hunters. Speak your actions boldly;
+There is a time when modest virtue is
+Allowed to praise itself.
+
+_Ped._ Heart! you were hot enough, too hot, but now;
+Your fury then boiled upward to a foam;
+But since this message came, you sink and settle,
+As if cold water had been poured upon you.
+
+_Tor._ Alas! thou know'st not what it is to love!
+When we behold an angel, not to fear,
+Is to be impudent: No, I am resolved,
+Like a led victim, to my death I'll go,
+And, dying, bless the hand, that gave the blow.             [_Exeunt._
+
+  _The_ SCENE _draws, and shews the Queen sitting in state;_ BERTRAN
+  _standing next to her; then_ TERESA, _&c. She rises, and comes to
+  the front._
+
+_Leonora._ [_To_ BERT.]
+I blame not you, my lord; my father's will,
+Your own deserts, and all my people's voice,
+Have placed you in the view of sovereign power.
+But I would learn the cause, why Torrismond,
+Within my palace-walls, within my hearing,
+Almost within my sight,--affronts a prince,
+Who shortly shall command him.
+
+_Bert._ He thinks you owe him more than you can pay;
+And looks as he were lord of human kind.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, ALPHONSO, PEDRO. TORRISMOND _bows low, then
+  looks earnestly on the Queen, and keeps at Distance._
+
+_Teresa._ Madam, the general.--
+
+_Leo._ Let me view him well.
+My father sent him early to the frontiers;
+I have not often seen him; if I did,
+He passed unmarked by my unheeding eyes:--
+But where's the fierceness, the disdainful pride,
+The haughty port, the fiery arrogance?--
+By all these marks, this is not, sure, the man.
+
+_Bert._ Yet this is he, who filled your court with tumult,
+Whose fierce demeanour, and whose insolence,
+The patience of a god could not support.
+
+_Leo._ Name his offence, my lord, and he shall have
+Immediate punishment.
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it,
+That my presumption then would equal his.
+
+_Leo._ Some one among you speak.
+
+_Ped._ Now my tongue itches.                                 [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ All dumb! On your allegiance, Torrismond,
+By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.
+
+_Tor._ [_Kneeling._]
+O seek not to convince me of a crime,
+Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon;
+Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,
+That he who, thus commanded, dares to speak,
+Unless commanded, would have died in silence.
+But you adjured me, madam, by my hopes!
+Hopes I have none, for I am all despair;
+Friends I have none, for friendship follows favour;
+Desert I've none, for what I did was duty:--
+Oh that it were!--that it were duty all!
+
+_Leo._ Why do you pause? proceed.
+
+_Tor._ As one, condemned to leap a precipice,
+Who sees before his eyes the depth below,
+Stops short, and looks about for some kind shrub
+To break his dreadful fall.--so I--
+But whither am I going? If to death,
+He looks so lovely sweet in beauty's pomp,
+He draws me to his dart.--I dare no more.
+
+_Bert._ He's mad, beyond the cure of hellebore.
+Whips, darkness, dungeons, for this insolence.
+
+_Tor._ Mad as I am, yet I know when to bear.
+
+_Leo._ You're both too bold.--You, Torrismond, withdraw,
+I'll teach you all what's owing to your queen.--
+For you, my lord,--
+The priest to-morrow was to join our hands;
+I'll try if I can live a day without you.--
+So both of you depart, and live in peace.
+
+_Alph._ Who knows which way she points?
+Doubling and turning like an hunted hare;--
+Find out the meaning of her mind who can.
+
+_Pedr._ Who ever found a woman's? backward and forward,
+The whole sex in every word.
+In my conscience, when she was getting, her mother was thinking of a
+riddle.                        [_Exeunt all but the Queen and_ TERESA.
+
+_Leo._ Haste, my Teresa, haste, and call him back.
+
+_Ter._ Whom, madam?
+
+_Leo._ Him.
+
+_Ter._ Prince Bertran?
+
+_Leo._ Torrismond;
+There is no other he.
+
+_Ter._ [_Aside._] A rising sun,
+Or I am much deceived.                                 [_Exit_ TERESA.
+
+_Leo._ A change so swift what heart did ever feel!
+It rushed upon me like a mighty stream,
+And bore me, in a moment, far from shore.
+I loved away myself; in one short hour
+Already am I gone an age of passion.
+Was it his youth, his valour, or success?
+These might, perhaps, be found in other men:
+'Twas that respect, that awful homage, paid me;
+That fearful love, which trembled in his eyes,
+And with a silent earthquake shook his soul.
+But, when he spoke, what tender words he said!
+So softly, that, like flakes of feathered snow,
+They melted as they fell.--
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA _with_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Ter._ He waits your pleasure.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis well; retire.--Oh heavens, that I must speak
+So distant from my heart!--                                  [_Aside._
+[_To_ TOR.] How now! What boldness brings you back again?
+
+_Tor._ I heard 'twas your command.
+
+_Leo._ A fond mistake,
+To credit so unlikely a command;
+And you return, full of the same presumption,
+To affront me with your love!
+
+_Tor._ If 'tis presumption, for a wretch condemned,
+To throw himself beneath his judge's feet:
+A boldness more than this I never knew;
+Or, if I did, 'twas only to your foes.
+
+_Leo._ You would insinuate your past services,
+And those, I grant, were great; but you confess
+A fault committed since, that cancels all.
+
+_Tor._ And who could dare to disavow his crime,
+When that, for which he is accused and seized,
+He bears about him still! My eyes confess it;
+My every action speaks my heart aloud:
+But, oh, the madness of my high attempt
+Speaks louder yet! and all together cry,--
+I love and I despair.
+
+_Leo._ Have you not heard,
+My father, with his dying voice, bequeathed
+My crown and me to Bertran? And dare you,
+A private man, presume to love a queen?
+
+_Tor._ That, that's the wound! I see you set so high,
+As no desert or services can reach.--
+Good heavens, why gave you me a monarch's soul,
+And crusted it with base plebeian clay?
+Why gave you me desires of such extent,
+And such a span to grasp them? Sure, my lot
+By some o'er-hasty angel was misplaced
+In fate's eternal volume!--But I rave,
+And, like a giddy bird in dead of night,
+Fly round the fire that scorches me to death.
+
+_Leo._ Yet, Torrismond, you've not so ill deserved,
+But I may give you counsel for your cure.
+
+_Tor._ I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cured.
+
+_Leo._ [_Aside._] Nor I, heaven knows!
+
+_Tor._ There is a pleasure, sure,
+In being mad, which none but madmen know!
+Let me indulge it; let me gaze for ever!
+And, since you are too great to be beloved,
+Be greater, greater yet, and be adored.
+
+_Leo._ These are the words which I must only hear
+From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you:
+I say they should; but women are so vain,
+To like the love, though they despise the lover.
+Yet, that I may not send you from my sight
+In absolute despair,--I pity you.
+
+_Tor._ Am I then pitied! I have lived enough!--
+Death, take me in this moment of my joy;
+But, when my soul is plunged in long oblivion,
+Spare this one thought! let me remember pity,
+And, so deceived, think all my life was blessed.
+
+_Leo._ What if I add a little to my alms?
+If that would help, I could cast in a tear
+To your misfortunes.
+
+_Tor._ A tear! You have o'erbid all my past sufferings,
+And all my future too!
+
+_Leo._ Were I no queen--
+Or you of royal blood--
+
+_Tor._ What have I lost by my forefathers' fault!
+Why was not I the twentieth by descent
+From a long restive race of droning kings?
+Love! what a poor omnipotence hast thou,
+When gold and titles buy thee?
+
+_Leo._ [_Sighs._] Oh, my torture!--
+
+_Tor._ Might I presume,--but, oh, I dare not hope
+That sigh was added to your alms for me!
+
+_Leo._ I give you leave to guess, and not forbid you
+To make the best construction for your love:
+Be secret and discreet; these fairy favours
+Are lost, when not concealed[1].--provoke not Bertran.--
+Retire: I must no more but this,--Hope, Torrismond.           [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ She bids me hope; oh heavens, she pities me!
+And pity still foreruns approaching love,
+As lightning does the thunder! Tune your harps,
+Ye angels, to that sound; and thou, my heart,
+Make room to entertain thy flowing joy.
+Hence, all my griefs and every anxious care;
+One word, and one kind glance, can cure despair.              [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_A Chamber. A Table and Wine set out._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ This may hit; 'tis more than barely possible; for friars have
+free admittance into every house. This jacobin, whom I have sent to,
+is her confessor; and who can suspect a man of such reverence for a
+pimp? I'll try for once; I'll bribe him high; for commonly none love
+money better than they, who have made a vow of poverty.
+
+  _Enter Servant._
+
+_Serv._ There's a huge, fat, religious gentleman coming up, sir. He
+says he's but a friar, but he's big enough to be a pope; his gills are
+as rosy as a turkey cock's; his great belly walks in state before him,
+like an harbinger; and his gouty legs come limping after it: Never was
+such a ton of devotion seen.
+
+_Lor._ Bring him in, and vanish.                      [_Exit Servant._
+
+  _Enter Father_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Lor._ Welcome, father.
+
+_Dom._ Peace be here: I thought I had been sent for to a dying man; to
+have fitted him for another world.
+
+_Lor._ No, faith, father, I was never for taking such long journeys.
+Repose yourself, I beseech you, sir, if those spindle legs of yours
+will carry you to the next chair.
+
+_Dom._ I am old, I am infirm, I must confess, with fasting.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis a sign by your wan complexion, and your thin jowls,
+father. Come, to our better acquaintance:--here's a sovereign remedy
+for old age and sorrow.                                     [_Drinks._
+
+_Dom._ The looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do you reason.
+                                                            [_Drinks._
+
+_Lor._ Is it to your palate, father?
+
+_Dom._ Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll consider of it once
+again. [_Drinks._] It has a most delicious flavour with it. Gad
+forgive me, I have forgotten to drink your health, Son, I am not used
+to be so unmannerly.                                  [_Drinks again._
+
+_Lor._ No, I'll be sworn, by what I see of you, you are not:--To the
+bottom;--I warrant him a true church-man.--Now, father, to our
+business: 'tis agreeable to your calling; I do intend to do an act of
+charity.
+
+_Dom._ And I love to hear of charity; 'tis a comfortable subject.
+
+_Lor._ Being in the late battle, in great hazard of my life, I
+recommended my person to good Saint Dominick.
+
+_Dom._ You could not have pitched upon a better; he's a sure card; I
+never knew him fail his votaries.
+
+_Lor._ Troth, I also made bold to strike up a bargain with him, that,
+if I escaped with life and plunder, I would present some brother of
+his order with part of the booty taken from the infidels, to be
+employed in charitable uses.
+
+_Dom._ There you hit him; Saint Dominick loves charity exceedingly;
+that argument never fails with him.
+
+_Lor._ The spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of a farthing.
+To make short my story; I inquired among the jacobins for an almoner,
+and the general fame has pointed out your reverence as the worthiest
+man:--here are fifty good pieces in this purse.
+
+_Dom._ How, fifty pieces? 'tis too much, too much in conscience.
+
+_Lor._ Here, take them, father.
+
+_Dom._ No, in troth, I dare not; do not tempt me to break my vow of
+poverty.
+
+_Lor._ If you are modest, I must force you; for I am strongest.
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but, will you set
+your strength against a decrepit, poor, old man? [_Takes the Purse._]
+As I said, 'tis too great a bounty; but Saint Dominick shall owe you
+another scape: I'll put him in mind of you.
+
+_Lor._ If you please, father, we will not trouble him 'till the next
+battle. But you may do me a greater kindness, by conveying my prayers
+to a female saint.
+
+_Dom._ A female saint! good now, good now, how your devotions jump
+with mine! I always loved the female saints.
+
+_Lor._ I mean, a female, mortal, married-woman-saint: Look upon the
+superscription of this note; you know Don Gomez's wife.
+                                                [_Gives him a Letter._
+
+_Dom._ Who? Donna Elvira? I think I have some reason; I am her ghostly
+father.
+
+_Lor._ I have some business of importance with her, which I have
+communicated in this paper; but her husband is so horribly given to be
+jealous,--
+
+_Dom._ Ho, jealous? he's the very quintessence of jealousy; he keeps
+no male creature in his house; and from abroad he lets no man come
+near her.
+
+_Lor._ Excepting you, father.
+
+_Dom._ Me, I grant you; I am her director and her guide in spiritual
+affairs: But he has his humours with me too; for t'other day he called
+me false apostle.
+
+_Lor._ Did he so? that reflects upon you all; on my word, father, that
+touches your copy-hold. If you would do a meritorious action, you
+might revenge the church's quarrel.--My letter, father,--
+
+_Dom._ Well, so far as a letter, I will take upon me; for what can I
+refuse to a man so charitably given?
+
+_Lor._ If you bring an answer back, that purse in your hand has a
+twin-brother, as like him as ever he can look; there are fifty pieces
+lie dormant in it, for more charities.
+
+_Dom._ That must not be; not a farthing more, upon my priesthood.--But
+what may be the purport and meaning of this letter? that, I confess, a
+little troubles me.
+
+_Lor._ No harm, I warrant you.
+
+_Dom._ Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll take your word: my
+comfort is, I know not the contents; and so far I am blameless. But an
+answer you shall have; though not for the sake of your fifty pieces
+more: I have sworn not to take them; they shall not be altogether
+fifty. Your mistress--forgive me, that I should call her your
+mistress, I meant Elvira,--lives but at next door: I'll visit her
+immediately; but not a word more of the nine-and-forty pieces.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, I'll wait on you down stairs.--Fifty pounds for the
+postage of a letter! to send by the church is certainly the dearest
+road in Christendom.                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ _and_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Gom._ Henceforth I banish flesh and wine: I'll have none stirring
+within these walls these twelve months.
+
+_Elv._ I care not; the sooner I am starved, the sooner I am rid of
+wedlock. I shall learn the knack to fast o' days; you have used me to
+fasting nights already.
+
+_Gom._ How the gipsey answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious hilding.
+
+_Elv._ [_Crying._] But was ever poor innocent creature so hardly dealt
+with, for a little harmless chat?
+
+_Gom._ Oh, the impudence of this wicked sex! Lascivious dialogues are
+innocent with you!
+
+_Elv._ Was it such a crime to inquire how the battle passed?
+
+_Gom._ But that was not the business, gentlewoman: you were not asking
+news of a battle passed; you were engaging for a skirmish that was to
+come.
+
+_Elv._ An honest woman would be glad to hear, that her honour was
+safe, and her enemies were slain.
+
+_Gom._ [_In her tone._] And to ask, if he were wounded in your
+defence; and, in case he were, to offer yourself to be his
+chirurgeon;--then, you did not describe your husband to him, for a
+covetous, jealous, rich, old hunks.
+
+_Elv._ No, I need not; he describes himself sufficiently: but, in what
+dream did I do this?
+
+_Gom._ You walked in your sleep, with your eyes broad open, at
+noon-day; and dreamt you were talking to the foresaid purpose with one
+Colonel Hernando--
+
+_Elv._ Who, dear husband, who?
+
+_Gom._ What the devil have I said?--You would have farther
+information, would you?
+
+_Elv._ No; but my dear, little, old man, tell me now, that I may avoid
+him for your sake.
+
+_Gom._ Get you up into your chamber, cockatrice; and there immure
+yourself; be confined, I say, during our royal pleasure. But, first,
+down on your marrowbones, upon your allegiance, and make an
+acknowledgement of your offences; for I will have ample satisfaction.
+                                                    [_Pulls her down._
+
+_Elv._ I have done you no injury, and therefore I'll make you no
+submission: but I'll complain to my ghostly father.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, there's your remedy; when you receive condign punishment,
+you run with open mouth to your confessor; that parcel of holy guts
+and garbadge: he must chuckle you and moan you; but I'll rid my hands
+of his ghostly authority one day, [_Enter_ DOMINICK.] and make him
+know he's the son of a--[_Sees him._] So;--no sooner conjure, but the
+devil's in the circle.
+
+_Dom._ Son of a what, Don Gomez?
+
+_Gom._ Why, a son of a church; I hope there's no harm in that, father?
+
+_Dom._ I will lay up your words for you, till time shall serve; and
+to-morrow I enjoin you to fast, for penance.
+
+_Gom._ There's no harm in that; she shall fast too: fasting saves
+money.                                                       [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ [_To_ ELVIRA.] What was the reason that I found you upon your
+knees, in that unseemly posture?
+
+_Gom._ O horrible! to find a woman upon her knees, he says, is an
+unseemly posture; there's a priest for you!                  [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ [_To_ DOM.] I wish, father, you would give me an opportunity of
+entertaining you in private: I have somewhat upon my spirits that
+presses me exceedingly.
+
+_Dom._ This goes well: [_Aside._] Gomez, stand you at a
+distance,--farther yet,--stand out of ear shot;--I have somewhat to
+say to your wife in private.
+
+_Gom._ Was ever man thus priest-ridden? would the steeple of his
+church were in his belly: I am sure there's room for it.     [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ I am ashamed to acknowledge my infirmities; but you have been
+always an indulgent father, and therefore I will venture to--and yet I
+dare not!--
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you are bashful;--if you keep your wound from the
+knowledge of your surgeon,--
+
+_Elv._ You know my husband is a man in years; but he's my husband, and
+therefore I shall be silent; but his humours are more intolerable than
+his age: he's grown so froward, so covetous, and so jealous, that he
+has turned my heart quite from him; and, if I durst confess it, has
+forced me to cast my affections on another man.
+
+_Dom._ Good:--hold, hold; I meant abominable.--Pray heaven this may be
+my colonel!                                                  [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ I have seen this man, father, and have encouraged his
+addresses; he's a young gentleman, a soldier, of a most winning
+carriage: and what his courtship may produce at last, I know not; but
+I am afraid of my own frailty.
+
+_Dom._ 'Tis he, for certain;--she has saved the credit of my function,
+by speaking first; now must I take gravity upon me.          [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ This whispering bodes me no good, for certain; but he has me so
+plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt him.      [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ Daughter, daughter, do you remember your matrimonial vow?
+
+_Elv._ Yes, to my sorrow, father, I do remember it; a miserable woman
+it has made me: but you know, father, a marriage-vow is but a thing of
+course, which all women take when they would get a husband.
+
+_Dom._ A vow is a very solemn thing; and 'tis good to keep it: but,
+notwithstanding, it may be broken upon some occasions. Have you
+striven with all your might against this frailty?
+
+_Elv._ Yes, I have striven; but I found it was against the stream.
+Love, you know, father, is a great vow-maker; but he's a greater
+vow-breaker.
+
+_Dom._ 'Tis your duty to strive always; but, notwithstanding, when we
+have done our utmost, it extenuates the sin.
+
+_Gom._ I can hold no longer.--Now, gentlewoman, you are confessing
+your enormities; I know it, by that hypocritical downcast
+look:--enjoin her to sit bare upon a bed of nettles, father; you can
+do no less, in conscience.
+
+_Dom._ Hold your peace; are you growing malapert? will you force me to
+make use of my authority? your wife's a well disposed and a virtuous
+lady; I say it, _In verbo sacerdotis._
+
+_Elv._ I know not what to do, father; I find myself in a most
+desperate condition; and so is the colonel, for love of me.
+
+_Dom._ The colonel, say you! I wish it be not the same young gentleman
+I know. 'Tis a gallant young man, I must confess, worthy of any lady's
+love in Christendom,--in a lawful way, I mean: of such a charming
+behaviour, so bewitching to a woman's eye, and, furthermore, so
+charitably given; by all good tokens, this must be my colonel
+Hernando.
+
+_Elv._ Ay, and my colonel too, father:--I am overjoyed!--and are you
+then acquainted with him?
+
+_Dom._ Acquainted with him! why, he haunts me up and down; and, I am
+afraid, it is for love of you; for he pressed a letter upon me, within
+this hour, to deliver to you. I confess I received it, lest he should
+send it by some other; but with full resolution never to put it into
+your hands.
+
+_Elv._ Oh, dear father, let me have it, or I shall die!
+
+_Gom._ Whispering still! A pox of your close committee! I'll listen,
+I'm resolved.                                        [_Steals nearer._
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you are obstinately bent to see it, use your
+discretion; but, for my part, I wash my hands of it.--What makes you
+listening there? get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked
+eaves dropper.
+
+_Elv._ I'll kneel down, father, as if I were taking absolution, if
+you'll but please to stand before me.
+
+_Dom._ At your peril be it then. I have told you the ill consequences;
+_et liberavi animam meam._ Your reputation is in danger, to say
+nothing of your soul. Notwithstanding, when the spiritual means have
+been applied, and fail, in that case the carnal may be used. You are a
+tender child, you are, and must not be put into despair; your heart is
+as soft and melting as your hand.  [_He strokes her face, takes her by
+                                    the hand, and gives the letter._
+
+_Gom._ Hold, hold, father, you go beyond your commission; palming is
+always held foul play amongst gamesters.
+
+_Dom._ Thus good intentions are misconstrued by wicked men; you will
+never be warned till you are excommunicated.
+
+_Gom._ Ah, devil on him; there's his hold! If there were no more in
+excommunication than the church's censure, a wise man would lick his
+conscience whole with a wet finger; but, if I am excommunicated, I am
+outlawed, and then there is no calling in my money.          [_Aside._
+
+_Elv._ [_Rising._] I have read the note, father, and will send him an
+answer immediately; for I know his lodgings by his letter.
+
+_Dom._ I understand it not, for my part; but I wish your intentions be
+honest. Remember, that adultery, though it be a silent sin, yet it is
+a crying sin also. Nevertheless, if you believe absolutely he will
+die, unless you pity him; to save a man's life is a point of charity;
+and actions of charity do alleviate, as I may say, and take off from
+the mortality of the sin. Farewell, daughter.--Gomez, cherish your
+virtuous wife; and thereupon I give you my benediction.      [_Going._
+
+_Gom._ Stay; I'll conduct you to the door,--that I may be sure you
+steal nothing by the way. Friars wear not their long sleeves for
+nothing.--Oh, 'tis a Judas Iscariot.          [_Exit after the Friar._
+
+_Elv._ This friar is a comfortable man! He will understand nothing of
+the business, and yet does it all.
+  Pray, wives and virgins, at your time of need,
+  For a true guide, of my good father's breed.                [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Street._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO _in a Friars Habit, meeting_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Lor._ Father Dominick, father Dominick; why in such haste, man?
+
+_Dom._ It should seem, a brother of our order.
+
+_Lor._ No, faith, I am only your brother in iniquity; my holiness,
+like yours, is mere outside.
+
+_Dom._ What! my noble colonel in metamorphosis! On what occasion are
+you transformed?
+
+_Lor._ Love, almighty love; that, which turned Jupiter into a
+town-bull, has transformed me into a friar. I have had a letter from
+Elvira, in answer to that I sent by you.
+
+_Dom._ You see I have delivered my message faithfully; I am a friar of
+honour, where I am engaged.
+
+_Lor._ O, I understand your hint; the other fifty pieces are ready to
+be condemned to charity.
+
+_Dom._ But this habit, son! this habit!
+
+_Lor._ It is a habit, that, in all ages, has been friendly to
+fornication: you have begun the design in this clothing, and I'll try
+to accomplish it. The husband is absent, that evil counsellor is
+removed and the sovereign is graciously disposed to hear my
+grievances.
+
+_Dom._ Go to, go to; I find good counsel is but thrown away upon you.
+Fare you well, fare you well, son! Ah--
+
+_Lor._ How! will you turn recreant at the last cast? You must along to
+countenance my undertaking: we are at the door, man.
+
+_Dom._ Well, I have thought on't, and I will not go.
+
+_Lor._ You may stay, father, but no fifty pounds without it; that was
+only promised in the bond: "But the condition of this obligation is
+such, that if the above-named father, father Dominick, do not well and
+faithfully perform--"
+
+_Dom._ Now I better think on't, I will bear you company; for the
+reverence of my presence may be a curb to your exorbitancies.
+
+_Lor._ Lead up your myrmidons, and enter.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.--ELVIRA'S _Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Elv._ He'll come, that's certain; young appetites are sharp, and
+seldom need twice bidding to such a banquet. Well, if I prove
+frail,--as I hope I shall not till I have compassed my design,--never
+woman had such a husband to provoke her, such a lover to allure her,
+or such a confessor to absolve her. Of what am I afraid, then? not my
+conscience, that's safe enough; my ghostly father has given it a dose
+of church-opium, to lull it. Well, for soothing sin, I'll say that for
+him, he's a chaplain for any court in Christendom.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO _and_ DOMINICK.
+
+O, father Dominick, what news?--How, a companion with you! What game
+have you in hand, that you hunt in couples?
+
+_Lor._ [_Lifting up his Hood._] I'll shew you that immediately.
+
+_Elv._ O, my love!
+
+_Lor._ My life!
+
+_Elv._ My soul!                                       [_They embrace._
+
+_Dom._ I am taken on the sudden with a grievous swimming in my head,
+and such a mist before my eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.
+
+_Elv._ Stay, and I'll fetch you some comfortable water.
+
+_Dom._ No, no; nothing but the open air will do me good. I'll take a
+turn in your garden; but remember that I trust you both, and do not
+wrong my good opinion of you.                        [_Exit_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Elv._ This is certainly the dust of gold which you have thrown in the
+good man's eyes, that on the sudden he cannot see; for my mind
+misgives me, this sickness of his is but apocryphal.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis no qualm of conscience, I'll be sworn. You see, madam, it
+is interest governs all the world. He preaches against sin; why?
+because he gets by it: He holds his tongue; why? because so much more
+is bidden for his silence.
+
+_Elv._ And so much for the friar.
+
+_Lor._ Oh, those eyes of yours reproach me justly, that I neglect the
+subject which brought me hither.
+
+_Elv._ Do you consider the hazard I have run to see you here? if you
+do, methinks it should inform you, that I love not at a common rate.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, if you talk of considering, let us consider why we are
+alone. Do you think the friar left us together to tell beads? Love is
+a kind of penurious god, very niggardly of his opportunities: he must
+be watched like a hard-hearted treasurer; for he bolts out on the
+sudden, and, if you take him not in the nick, he vanishes in a
+twinkling.
+
+_Elv._ Why do you make such haste to have done loving me? You men are
+all like watches, wound up for striking twelve immediately; but after
+you are satisfied, the very next that follows, is the solitary sound
+of a single--one!
+
+_Lor._ How, madam! do you invite me to a feast, and then preach
+abstinence?
+
+_Elv._ No, I invite you to a feast where the dishes are served up in
+order: you are for making a hasty meal, and for chopping up your
+entertainment, like a hungry clown. Trust my management, good colonel,
+and call not for your desert too soon: believe me, that which comes
+last, as it is the sweetest, so it cloys the soonest.
+
+_Lor._ I perceive, madam, by your holding me at this distance, that
+there is somewhat you expect from me: what am I to undertake, or
+suffer, ere I can be happy?
+
+_Elv._ I must first be satisfied, that you love me.
+
+_Lor._ By all that's holy! by these dear eyes!--
+
+_Elv._ Spare your oaths and protestations; I know you gallants of the
+time have a mint at your tongue's end to coin them.
+
+_Lor._ You know you cannot marry me; but, by heavens, if you were in a
+condition--
+
+_Elv._ Then you would not be so prodigal of your promises, but have
+the fear of matrimony before your eyes. In few words, if you love me,
+as you profess, deliver me from this bondage, take me out of Egypt,
+and I'll wander with you as far as earth, and seas, and love, can
+carry us.
+
+_Lor._ I never was out at a mad frolic, though this is the maddest I
+ever undertook. Have with you, lady mine; I take you at your word; and
+if you are for a merry jaunt, I'll try for once who can foot it
+farthest. There are hedges in summer, and barns in winter, to be
+found; I with my knapsack, and you with your bottle at your back: we
+will leave honour to madmen, and riches to knaves; and travel till we
+come to' the ridge of the world, and then drop together into the next.
+
+_Elv._ Give me your hand, and strike a bargain.
+                                  [_He takes her hand, and kisses it._
+
+_Lor._ In sign and token whereof, the parties interchangeably, and so
+forth.--When should I be weary of sealing upon this soft wax?
+
+_Elv._ O heavens! I hear my husband's voice.
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Gom._ Where are you, gentlewoman? there's something in the wind, I'm
+sure, because your woman would have run up stairs before me; but I
+have secured her below, with a gag in her chaps.--Now, in the devil's
+name, what makes this friar here again? I do not like these frequent
+conjunctions of the flesh and spirit; they are boding.
+
+_Elv._ Go hence, good father; my husband, you see, is in an ill
+humour, and I would not have you witness of his folly.
+                                                     [LORENZO _going._
+
+_Gom._ [_Running to the door._] By your reverence's favour, hold a
+little; I must examine you something better, before you go.--Heyday!
+who have we here? Father Dominick is shrunk in the wetting two yards
+and a half about the belly. What are become of those two timber logs,
+that he used to wear for legs, that stood strutting like the two black
+posts before a door? I am afraid some bad body has been setting him
+over a fire in a great cauldron, and boiled him down half the
+quantity, for a recipe. This is no father Dominick, no huge overgrown
+abbey-lubber; this is but a diminutive sucking friar. As sure as a
+gun, now, father Dominick has been spawning this young slender
+anti-christ.
+
+_Elv._ He will be found, there's no prevention.              [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Why does he not speak? What! is the friar possessed with a dumb
+devil? if he be, I shall make bold to conjure him.
+
+_Elv._ He is but a novice in his order, and is enjoined silence for a
+penance.
+
+_Gom._ A novice, quotha! you would make a novice of me, too, if you
+could. But what was his business here? answer me that, gentlewoman,
+answer me that.
+
+_Elv._ What should it be, but to give me some spiritual instructions.
+
+_Gom._ Very good; and you are like to edify much from a dumb preacher.
+This will not pass, I must examine the contents of him a little
+closer.--O thou confessor, confess who thou art, or thou art no friar
+of this world!--[_He comes to_ LORENZO, _who struggles with him; his
+Habit flies open, and discovers a Sword;_ GOMEZ _starts back._]--As I
+live, this is a manifest member of the church militant.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] I am discovered; now, impudence be my refuge.--Yes,
+faith, 'tis I, honest Gomez; thou seest I use thee like a friend; this
+is a familiar visit.
+
+_Gom._ What! colonel Hernando turned a friar! who could have suspected
+you of so much godliness?
+
+_Lor._ Even as thou seest, I make bold here.
+
+_Gom._ A very frank manner of proceeding; but I do not wonder at your
+visit, after so friendly an invitation as I made you. Marry, I hope
+you will excuse the blunderbusses for not being in readiness to salute
+you; but let me know your hour, and all shall be mended another time.
+
+_Lor._ Hang it, I hate such ripping up of old unkindness: I was upon
+the frolic this evening, and came to visit thee in masquerade.
+
+_Gom._ Very likely; and not finding me at home, you were forced to toy
+away an hour with my wife, or so.
+
+_Lor._ Right; thou speak'st my very soul.
+
+_Gom._ Why, am not I a friend, then, to help thee out? you would have
+been fumbling half an hour for this excuse. But, as I remember, you
+promised to storm my citadel, and bring your regiment of red locusts
+upon me for free quarters: I find, colonel, by your habit, there are
+black locusts in the world, as well as red.
+
+_Elv._ When comes my share of the reckoning to be called for?
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Lor._ Give me thy hand; thou art the honestest, kind man!--I was
+resolved I would not out of thy house till I had seen thee.
+
+_Gom._ No, in my conscience, if I had staid abroad till midnight. But,
+colonel, you and I shall talk in another tone hereafter; I mean, in
+cold friendship, at a bar before a judge, by the way of plaintiff and
+defendant. Your excuses want some grains to make them current: Hum,
+and ha, will not do the business.--There's a modest lady of your
+acquaintance, she has so much grace to make none at all, but silently
+to confess the power of dame Nature working in her body to youthful
+appetite.
+
+_Elv._ How he got in I know not, unless it were by virtue of his
+habit.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, ay, the virtues of that habit are known abundantly.
+
+_Elv._ I could not hinder his entrance, for he took me unprovided.
+
+_Gom._ To resist him.
+
+_Elv._ I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter of an hour.
+
+_Gom._ And a quarter of that time would have served the turn. O thou
+epitome of thy virtuous sex! Madam Messalina the second, retire to thy
+apartment: I have an assignation there to make with thee.
+
+_Elv._ I am all obedience.                             [_Exit_ ELVIRA.
+
+_Lor._ I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought you. We may meet
+before we come to the bar, we may; and our differences may be decided
+by other weapons than by lawyers' tongues. In the mean time, no ill
+treatment of your wife, as you hope to die a natural death, and go to
+hell in your bed. Bilbo is the word, remember that and tremble.--
+                                                    [_He's going out._
+
+  _Enter_ DOMINICK.
+
+_Dom._ Where is this naughty couple? where are you, in the name of
+goodness? My mind misgave me, and I durst trust you no longer with
+yourselves: Here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your next
+confession.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] The devil is punctual, I see; he has paid me the
+shame he owed me; and now the friar is coming in for his part too.
+
+_Dom._ [_Seeing_ GOM.] Bless my eyes! what do I see?
+
+_Gom._ Why, you see a cuckold of this honest gentleman's making; I
+thank him for his pains.
+
+_Dom._ I confess, I am astonished!
+
+_Gom._ What, at a cuckoldom of your own contrivance! your head-piece,
+and his limbs, have done my business. Nay, do not look so strangely;
+remember your own words,--Here will be fine work at your next
+confession. What naughty couple were they whom you durst not trust
+together any longer?--when the hypocritical rogue had trusted them a
+full quarter of an hour;--and, by the way, horns will sprout in less
+time than mushrooms.
+
+_Dom._ Beware how you accuse one of my order upon light suspicions.
+The naughty couple, that I meant, were your wife and you, whom I left
+together with great animosities on both sides. Now, that was the
+occasion,--mark me, Gomez,--that I thought it convenient to return
+again, and not to trust your enraged spirits too long together. You
+might have broken out into revilings and matrimonial warfare, which
+are sins; and new sins make work for new confessions.
+
+_Lor._ Well said, i'faith, friar; thou art come off thyself, but poor
+I am left in limbo.                                          [_Aside._
+
+_Gom._ Angle in some other ford, good father, you shall catch no
+gudgeons here. Look upon the prisoner at the bar, friar, and inform
+the court what you know concerning him; he is arraigned here by the
+name of colonel Hernando.
+
+_Dom._ What colonel do you mean, Gomez? I see no man but a reverend
+brother of our order, whose profession I honour, but whose person I
+know not, as I hope for paradise.
+
+_Gom._ No, you are not acquainted with him, the more's the pity; you
+do not know him, under this disguise, for the greatest cuckold-maker
+in all Spain.
+
+_Dom._ O impudence! O rogue! O villain! Nay, if he be such a man, my
+righteous spirit rises at him! Does he put on holy garments, for a
+cover-shame of lewdness?
+
+_Gom._ Yes, and he's in the right on't, father: when a swinging sin is
+to be committed, nothing will cover it so close as a friar's hood; for
+there the devil plays at bo-peep,--puts out his horns to do a
+mischief, and then shrinks them back for safety, like a snail into her
+shell.
+
+_Lor._ It's best marching off, while I can retreat with honour.
+There's no trusting this friar's conscience; he has renounced me
+already more heartily than e'er he did the devil, and is in a fair way
+to prosecute me for putting on these holy robes. This is the old
+church-trick; the clergy is ever at the bottom of the plot, but they
+are wise enough to slip their own necks out of the collar, and leave
+the laity to be fairly hanged for it.               [_Aside and exit._
+
+_Gom._ Follow your leader, friar; your colonel is trooped off, but he
+had not gone so easily, if I durst have trusted you in the house
+behind me. Gather up your gouty legs, I say, and rid my house of that
+huge body of divinity.
+
+_Dom._ I expect some judgment should fall upon you, for your want of
+reverence to your spiritual director: Slander, covetousness, and
+jealousy, will weigh thee down.
+
+_Gom._ Put pride, hypocrisy, and gluttony into your scale, father, and
+you shall weigh against me: Nay, an sins come to be divided once, the
+clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.
+
+_Dom._ How dar'st thou reproach the tribe of Levi?
+
+_Gom._ Marry, because you make us laymen of the tribe of Issachar. You
+make asses of us, to bear your burthens. When we are young, you put
+panniers upon us with your church-discipline; and when we are grown
+up, you load us with a wife: after that, you procure for other men,
+and then you load our wives too. A fine phrase you have amongst you to
+draw us into marriage, you call it--_settling of a man;_ just as when
+a fellow has got a sound knock upon the head, they say--_he's
+settled:_ Marriage is a settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in
+the world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up the venom of
+the earth; but I never knew what a friar was good for, till your
+pimping shewed me.
+
+_Dom._ Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer; thy offences be
+upon thy head.
+
+_Gom._ I believe there are some offences there of your planting.
+[_Exit_ DOM.] Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set
+snares in their warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet--
+  Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,
+  For holy vermin that in houses prey.                    [_Exit_ GOM.
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A Bed Chamber._
+
+  LEONORA, _and_ TERESA.
+
+_Ter._ You are not what you were, since yesterday;
+Your food forsakes you, and your needful rest;
+You pine, you languish, love to be alone;
+Think much, speak little, and, in speaking, sigh:
+When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet;
+But, when you see him not, you are in pain.
+
+_Leo._ O let them never love, who never tried!
+They brought a paper to me to be signed;
+Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name,
+And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.
+I went to bed, and to myself I thought
+That I would think on Torrismond no more;
+Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him.
+I turned, and tried each corner of my bed,
+To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost.
+Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked,
+And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went;
+There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts,
+I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,
+And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,--
+There fought my Torrismond.
+
+_Ter._ What hinders you to take the man you love?
+The people will be glad, the soldiers shout,
+And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.
+
+_Leo._ I fear to try new love,
+As boys to venture on the unknown ice,
+That crackles underneath them while they slide.
+Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!
+Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I stand
+Altering, like one that waits an ague fit;
+And yet, would this were all!
+
+_Ter._ What fear you more?
+
+_Leo._ I am ashamed to say, 'tis but a fancy.
+At break of day, when dreams, they say, are true,
+A drowzy slumber, rather than a sleep,
+Seized on my senses, with long watching worn:
+Methought I stood on a wide river's bank,
+Which I must needs o'erpass, but knew not how;
+When, on a sudden, Torrismond appeared,
+Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er,
+Leaping and bounding on the billows' heads,
+'Till safely we had reached the farther shore.
+
+_Ter._ This dream portends some ill which you shall 'scape.
+Would you see fairer visions, take this night
+Your Torrismond within your arms to sleep;
+And, to that end, invent some apt pretence
+To break with Bertran: 'twould be better yet,
+Could you provoke him to give you the occasion,
+And then, to throw him off.
+
+  _Enter_ BERTRAN _at a distance._
+
+_Leo._ My stars have sent him;
+For, see, he comes. How gloomily he looks!
+If he, as I suspect, have found my love,
+His jealousy will furnish him with fury,
+And me with means, to part.
+
+_Bert._ [_Aside._]
+Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her false?
+If she be false, 'tis what she most desires.
+My genius whispers me,--Be cautious, Bertran!
+Thou walkest as on a narrow mountain's neck,
+A dreadful height, with scanty room to tread.
+
+_Leo._ What business have you at the court, my lord?
+
+_Bert._ What business, madam?
+
+_Leo._ Yes, my lord, what business?
+'Tis somewhat, sure, of weighty consequence,
+That brings you here so often, and unsent for.
+
+_Bert._ 'Tis what I feared; her words are cold enough,
+To freeze a man to death. [_Aside._]--May I presume
+To speak, and to complain?
+
+_Leo._ They, who complain to princes, think them tame:
+What bull dares bellow, or what sheep dares bleat,
+Within the lion's den?
+
+_Bert._ Yet men are suffered to put heaven in mind
+Of promised blessings; for they then are debts.
+
+_Leo._ My lord, heaven knows its own time when to give;
+But you, it seems, charge me with breach of faith!
+
+_Bert._ I hope I need not, madam;
+But as, when men in sickness lingering lie,
+They count the tedious hours by months and years,--
+So, every day deferred, to dying lovers,
+Is a whole age of pain!
+
+_Leo._ What if I ne'er consent to make you mine?
+My father's promise ties me not to time;
+And bonds, without a date, they say, are void.
+
+_Bert._ Far be it from me to believe you bound;
+Love is the freest motion of our minds:
+O could you see into my secret soul,
+There might you read your own dominion doubled,
+Both as a queen and mistress. If you leave me,
+Know I can die, but dare not be displeased.
+
+_Leo._ Sure you affect stupidity, my lord;
+Or give me cause to think, that, when you lost
+Three battles to the Moors, you coldly stood
+As unconcerned as now.
+
+_Bert._ I did my best;
+Fate was not in my power.
+
+_Leo._ And, with the like tame gravity, you saw
+A raw young warrior take your baffled work,
+And end it at a blow.
+
+_Bert._ I humbly take my leave; but they, who blast
+Your good opinion of me, may have cause
+To know, I am no coward.                               [_He is going._
+
+_Leo._ Bertran, stay.
+[_Aside._] This may produce some dismal consequence
+To him, whom dearer than my life I love.
+[_To him._] Have I not managed my contrivance well,
+To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?
+
+_Bert._ Then, was it but a trial?
+Methinks I start as from some dreadful dream,
+And often ask myself if yet I wake.--
+This turn's too quick to be without design;
+I'll sound the bottom of't, ere I believe.                   [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ I find your love, and would reward it too,
+But anxious fears solicit my weak breast.
+I fear my people's faith;
+That hot-mouthed beast, that bears against the curb,
+Hard to be broken even by lawful kings,
+But harder by usurpers.
+Judge then, my lord, with all these cares opprest,
+If I can think of love.
+
+_Bert._ Believe me, madam,
+These jealousies, however large they spread,
+Have but one root, the old imprisoned king;
+Whose lenity first pleased the gaping crowd;
+But when long tried, and found supinely good,
+Like AEsop's Log, they leapt upon his back.
+Your father knew them well; and, when he mounted,
+He reined them strongly, and he spurred them hard:
+And, but he durst not do it all at once,
+He had not left alive this patient saint,
+This anvil of affronts, but sent him hence
+To hold a peaceful branch of palm above,
+And hymn it in the quire.
+
+_Leo._ You've hit upon the very string, which, touched.
+Echoes the sound, and jars within my soul;--
+There lies my grief.
+
+_Bert._ So long as there's a head,
+Thither will all the mounting spirits fly;
+Lop that but off, and then--
+
+_Leo._ My virtue shrinks from such an horrid act.
+
+_Bert._ This 'tis to have a virtue out of season.
+Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue;
+But kings mistake its timing, and are mild,
+When manly courage bids them be severe:
+Better be cruel once, than anxious ever.
+Remove this threatening danger from your crown,
+And then securely take the man you love.
+
+_Leo._ [_Walking aside._]
+Ha! let me think of that:--The man I love?
+'Tis true, this murder is the only means,
+That can secure my throne to Torrismond:
+Nay, more, this execution, done by Bertran,
+Makes him the object of the people's hate.
+
+_Bert._ The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ How eloquent is mischief to persuade!
+Few are so wicked, as to take delight
+In crimes unprofitable, nor do I:
+If then I break divine and human laws,
+No bribe but love could gain so bad a cause.                 [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ You answer nothing.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis of deep concernment,
+And I a woman, ignorant and weak:
+I leave it all to you; think, what you do,
+You do for him I love.
+
+_Bert._ For him she loves?
+She named not me; that may be Torrismond,
+Whom she has thrice in private seen this day;
+Then I am fairly caught in my own snare.
+I'll think again. [_Aside._]--Madam, it shall be done;
+And mine be all the blame.                                    [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ O, that it were! I would not do this crime,
+And yet, like heaven, permit it to be done.
+The priesthood grossly cheat us with free-will:
+Will to do what--but what heaven first decreed?
+Our actions then are neither good nor ill,
+Since from eternal causes they proceed;
+Our passions,--fear and anger, love and hate,--
+Mere senseless engines that are moved by fate;
+Like ships on stormy seas, without a guide,
+Tost by the winds, and driven by the tide.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Am I not rudely bold, and press too often
+Into your presence, madam? If I am--
+
+_Leo._ No more, lest I should chide you for your stay:
+Where have you been? and how could you suppose,
+That I could live these two long hours without you?
+
+_Tor._ O words, to charm an angel from his orb!
+Welcome, as kindly showers to long-parched earth!
+But I have been in such a dismal place,
+Where joy ne'er enters, which the sun ne'er cheers,
+Bound in with darkness, overspread with damps;
+Where I have seen (if I could say I saw)
+The good old king, majestic in his bonds,
+And, 'midst his griefs, most venerably great:
+By a dim winking lamp, which feebly broke
+The gloomy vapours, he lay stretched along
+Upon the unwholesome earth, his eyes fixed upward;
+And ever and anon a silent tear
+Stole down, and trickled from his hoary beard.
+
+_Leo._ O heaven, what have I done!--my gentle love,
+Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake,
+Cast off these fearful melancholy thoughts.
+
+_Tor._ My heart is withered at that piteous sight,
+As early blossoms are with eastern blasts:
+He sent for me, and, while I raised his head,
+He threw his aged arms about my neck;
+And, seeing that I wept, he pressed me close:
+So, leaning cheek to cheek, and eyes to eyes,
+We mingled tears in a dumb scene of sorrow.
+
+_Leo._ Forbear; you know not how you wound my soul.
+
+_Tor._ Can you have grief, and not have pity too?
+He told me,--when my father did return,
+He had a wond'rous secret to disclose:
+He kissed me, blessed me, nay--he called me son;
+He praised my courage; prayed for my success:
+He was so true a father of his country,
+To thank me, for defending even his foes,
+Because they were his subjects.
+
+_Leo._ If they be,--then what am I?
+
+_Tor._ The sovereign of my soul, my earthly heaven.
+
+_Leo._ And not your queen?
+
+_Tor._ You are so beautiful,
+So wond'rous fair, you justify rebellion;
+As if that faultless face could make no sin,
+But heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.
+
+_Leo._ The king must die,--he must, my Torrismond,
+Though pity softly plead within my soul;
+Yet he must die, that I may make you great,
+And give a crown in dowry with my love.
+
+_Tor._ Perish that crown--on any head but yours!
+O, recollect your thoughts!
+Shake not his hour-glass, when his hasty sand
+Is ebbing to the last:
+A little longer, yet a little longer,
+And nature drops him down, without your sin;
+Like mellow fruit, without a winter storm.
+
+_Leo._ Let me but do this one injustice more.
+His doom is past, and, for your sake, he dies.
+
+_Tor._ Would you, for me, have done so ill an act,
+And will not do a good one!
+Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven,
+O spare this great, this good, this aged king;
+And spare your soul the crime!
+
+_Leo._ The crime's not mine;
+'Twas first proposed, and must be done, by Bertran,
+Fed with false hopes to gain my crown and me;
+I, to enhance his ruin, gave no leave,
+But barely bade him think, and then resolve.
+
+_Tor._ In not forbidding, you command the crime:
+Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day;
+How will you tremble, there to stand exposed,
+And foremost, in the rank of guilty ghosts,
+That must be doomed for murder! think on murder:
+That troop is placed apart from common crimes;
+The damned themselves start wide, and shun that band,
+As far more black, and more forlorn than they.
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis terrible! it shakes, it staggers me;
+I knew this truth, but I repelled that thought.
+Sure there is none, but fears a future state;
+And, when the most obdurate swear they do not,
+Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.
+
+  _Enter_ TERESA.
+
+Send speedily to Bertran; charge him strictly
+Not to proceed, but wait my farther pleasure.
+
+_Ter._ Madam, he sends to tell you, 'tis performed.           [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ Ten thousand plagues consume him! furies drag him,
+Fiends tear him! blasted be the arm that struck,
+The tongue that ordered!--only she be spared,
+That hindered not the deed! O, where was then
+The power, that guards the sacred lives of kings?
+Why slept the lightning and the thunder-bolts,
+Or bent their idle rage on fields and trees,
+When vengeance called them here?
+
+_Leo._ Sleep that thought too;
+'Tis done, and, since 'tis done, 'tis past recal;
+And, since 'tis past recal, must be forgotten.
+
+_Tor._ O, never, never, shall it be forgotten!
+High heaven will not forget it; after-ages
+Shall with a fearful curse remember ours;
+And blood shall never leave the nation more!
+
+_Leo._ His body shall be royally interred,
+And the last funeral-pomps adorn his hearse;
+I will myself (as I have cause too just,)
+Be the chief mourner at his obsequies;
+And yearly fix on the revolving day
+The solemn marks of mourning, to atone,
+And expiate my offence.
+
+_Tor._ Nothing can,
+But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head,--
+Which, dear departed spirit, here I vow.
+
+_Leo._ Here end our sorrows, and begin our joys:
+Love calls, my Torrismond; though hate has raged,
+And ruled the day, yet love will rule the night.
+The spiteful stars have shed their venom down,
+And now the peaceful planets take their turn.
+This deed of Bertran's has removed all fears,
+And given me just occasion to refuse him.
+What hinders now, but that the holy priest
+In secret join our mutual vows? and then
+This night, this happy night, is yours and mine.
+
+_Tor._ Be still my sorrows, and be loud my joys.
+Fly to the utmost circles of the sea,
+Thou furious tempest, that hast tossed my mind,
+And leave no thought, but Leonora there.--
+What's this I feel, a boding in my soul,
+As if this day were fatal? be it so;
+Fate shall but have the leavings of my love:
+My joys are gloomy, but withal are great.
+The lion, though he sees the toils are set,
+Yet, pinched with raging hunger, scowers away,
+Hunts in the face of danger all the day;
+At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his prey.     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_Before Gomez's Door._
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, DOMINICK, _and two Soldiers at a distance._
+
+_Dom._ I'll not wag an ace farther: the whole world shall not bribe me
+to it; for my conscience will digest these gross enormities no longer.
+
+_Lor._ How, thy conscience not digest them! There is ne'er a friar in
+Spain can shew a conscience, that comes near it for digestion. It
+digested pimping, when I sent thee with my letter; and it digested
+perjury, when thou swor'st thou didst not know me: I am sure it has
+digested me fifty pounds, of as hard gold as is in all Barbary.
+Pr'ythee, why shouldest thou discourage fornication, when thou knowest
+thou lovest a sweet young girl?
+
+_Dom._ Away, away; I do not love them;--pah; no,--[_spits._] I do not
+love a pretty girl--you are so waggish!--              [_Spits again._
+
+_Lor._ Why thy mouth waters at the very mention of them.
+
+_Dom._ You take a mighty pleasure in defamation, colonel; but I wonder
+what you find in running restless up and down, breaking your brains,
+emptying your purse, and wearing out your body, with hunting after
+unlawful game.
+
+_Lor._ Why there's the satisfaction on't.
+
+_Dom._ This incontinency may proceed to adultery, and adultery to
+murder, and murder to hanging; and there's the satisfaction on't.
+
+_Lor._ I'll not hang alone, friar; I'm resolved to peach thee before
+thy superiors, for what thou hast done already.
+
+_Dom._ I'm resolved to forswear it, if you do. Let me advise you
+better, colonel, than to accuse a church-man to a church-man; in the
+common cause we are all of a piece; we hang together.
+
+_Lor._ If you don't, it were no matter if you did.           [_Aside._
+
+_Dom._ Nay, if you talk of peaching, I'll peach first, and see whose
+oath will be believed; I'll trounce you for offering to corrupt my
+honesty, and bribe my conscience: you shall be summoned by an host of
+parators; you shall be sentenced in the spiritual court; you shall be
+excommunicated; you shall be outlawed;--and--
+                    [_Here_ LORENZO _takes a purse, and plays with it,
+                     and at last lets the purse fall chinking on the
+                     ground, which the Friar eyes._
+[_In another tone._] I say, a man might do this now, if he were
+maliciously disposed, and had a mind to bring matters to extremity:
+but, considering that you are my friend, a person of honour, and a
+worthy good charitable man, I would rather die a thousand deaths than
+disoblige you.         [LORENZO _takes up the purse, and pours it into
+                        the Friar's sleeve._
+Nay, good sir;--nay, dear colonel;--O lord, sir, what are you doing
+now! I profess this must not be: without this I would have served you
+to the utter-most; pray command me.--A jealous, foul-mouthed rogue
+this Gomez is; I saw how he used you, and you marked how he used me
+too. O he's a bitter man; but we'll join our forces; ah, shall we,
+colonel? we'll be revenged on him with a witness.
+
+_Lor._ But how shall I send her word to be ready at the door? for I
+must reveal it in confession to you, that I mean to carry her away
+this evening, by the help of these two soldiers. I know Gomez suspects
+you, and you will hardly gain admittance.
+
+_Dom._ Let me alone; I fear him not. I am armed with the authority of
+my clothing: yonder I see him keeping sentry at his door:--have you
+never seen a citizen, in a cold morning, clapping his sides, and
+walking forward and backward, a mighty pace before his shop? but I'll
+gain the pass, in spite of his suspicion; stand you aside, and do but
+mark how I accost him.
+
+_Lor._ If he meet with a repulse, we must throw off the fox's skin,
+and put on the lion's.--Come, gentlemen, you'll stand by me?
+
+_Sol._ Do not doubt us, colonel.
+                    [_They retire all three to a corner of the stage;_
+                     DOMINICK _goes to the door where_ GOMEZ _stands._
+
+_Dom._ Good even, Gomez; how does your wife?
+
+_Gom._ Just as you'd have her; thinking on nothing but her dear
+colonel, and conspiring cuckoldom against me.
+
+_Dom._ I dare say, you wrong her; she is employing her thoughts how to
+cure you of your jealousy.
+
+_Gom._ Yes, by certainty.
+
+_Dom._ By your leave, Gomez; I have some spiritual advice to impart to
+her on that subject.
+
+_Gom._ You may spare your instructions, if you please, father; she has
+no farther need of them.
+
+_Dom._ How, no need of them! do you speak in riddles?
+
+_Gom._ Since you will have me speak plainer,--she has profited so well
+already by your counsel, that she can say her lesson without your
+teaching: Do you understand me now?
+
+_Dom._ I must not neglect my duty, for all that; once again, Gomez, by
+your leave.
+
+_Gom._ She's a little indisposed at present, and it will not be
+convenient to disturb her.         [DOMINICK _offers to go by him, but
+                                    t'other stands before him._
+
+_Dom._ Indisposed, say you? O, it is upon those occasions that a
+confessor is most necessary; I think, it was my good angel that sent
+me hither so opportunely.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, whose good angels sent you hither, that you best know,
+father.
+
+_Dom._ A word or two of devotion will do her no harm, I'm sure.
+
+_Gom._ A little sleep will do her more good, I'm sure: You know, she
+disburthened her conscience but this morning to you.
+
+_Dom._ But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may have new occasion to
+confess.
+
+_Gom._ Indeed, as you order matters with the colonel, she may have
+occasion of confessing herself every hour.
+
+_Dom._ Pray, how long has she been sick?
+
+_Gom._ Lord, you will force a man to speak;--why, ever since your last
+defeat.
+
+_Dom._ This can be but some slight indisposition; it will not last,
+and I may see her.
+
+_Gom._ How, not last! I say, it will last, and it shall last; she
+shall be sick these seven or eight days, and perhaps longer, as I see
+occasion. What? I know the mind of her sickness a little better than
+you do.
+
+_Dom._ I find, then, I must bring a doctor.
+
+_Gom._ And he'll bring an apothecary, with a chargeable long bill of
+_ana's_: those of my family have the grace to die cheaper. In a word,
+Sir Dominick, we understand one another's business here: I am resolved
+to stand like the Swiss of my own family, to defend the entrance; you
+may mumble over your _pater nosters_, if you please, and try if you
+can make my doors fly open, and batter down my walls with bell, book,
+and candle; but I am not of opinion, that you are holy enough to
+commit miracles.
+
+_Dom._ Men of my order are not to be treated after this manner.
+
+_Gom._ I would treat the pope and all his cardinals in the same
+manner, if they offered to see my wife, without my leave.
+
+_Dom._ I excommunicate thee from the church, if thou dost not open;
+there's promulgation coming out.
+
+_Gom._ And I excommunicate you from my wife, if you go to that:
+there's promulgation for promulgation, and bull for bull; and so I
+leave you to recreate yourself with the end of an old song--
+_And sorrow came to the old friar._                           [_Exit._
+
+  LORENZO _comes to him._
+
+_Lor._ I will not ask you your success; for I overheard part of it,
+and saw the conclusion. I find we are now put upon our last trump; the
+fox is earthed, but I shall send my two terriers in after him.
+
+_Sold._ I warrant you, colonel, we'll unkennel him.
+
+_Lor._ And make what haste you can, to bring out the lady.--What say
+you, father? Burglary is but a venial sin among soldiers.
+
+_Dom._ I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy of the
+church.--There is a proverb, I confess, which says, that dead men tell
+no tales; but let your soldiers apply it at their own perils.
+
+_Lor._ What, take away a man's wife, and kill him too! The wickedness
+of this old villain startles me, and gives me a twinge for my own sin,
+though it comes far short of his.--Hark you, soldiers, be sure you use
+as little violence to him as is possible.
+
+_Dom._ Hold a little; I have thought better how to secure him, with
+less danger to us.
+
+_Lor._ O miracle, the friar is grown conscientious!
+
+_Dom._ The old king, you know, is just murdered, and the persons that
+did it are unknown; let the soldiers seize him for one of the
+assassinates, and let me alone to accuse him afterwards.
+
+_Lor._ I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for suspecting a friar of
+the least good nature; what, would you accuse him wrongfully?
+
+_Dom._ I must confess, 'tis wrongful, _quoad hoc_, as to the fact
+itself; but 'tis rightful, _quoad hunc_, as to this heretical rogue,
+whom we must dispatch. He has railed against the church, which is a
+fouler crime than the murder of a thousand kings. _Omne majus continet
+in se minus:_ He, that is an enemy to the church, is an enemy unto
+heaven; and he, that is an enemy to heaven, would have killed the king
+if he had been in the circumstances of doing it; so it is not wrongful
+to accuse him.
+
+_Lor._ I never knew a churchman, if he were personally offended, but
+he would bring in heaven by hook or crook into his quarrel.--Soldiers,
+do as you were first ordered.                      [_Exeunt Soldiers._
+
+_Dom._ What was't you ordered them? Are you sure it's safe, and not
+scandalous?
+
+_Lor._ Somewhat near your own design, but not altogether so
+mischievous. The people are infinitely discontented, as they have
+reason; and mutinies there are, or will be, against the queen: now I
+am content to put him thus far into the plot, that he should be
+secured as a traitor; but he shall only be prisoner at the soldiers'
+quarters; and when I am out of reach, he shall be released.
+
+_Dom._ And what will become of me then? for when he is free, he will
+infallibly accuse me.
+
+_Lor._ Why then, father, you must have recourse to your infallible
+church-remedies; lie impudently, and swear devoutly, and, as you told
+me but now, let him try whose oath will be first believed. Retire, I
+hear them coming.                                    [_They withdraw._
+
+  _Enter the Soldiers with_ GOMEZ _struggling on their backs._
+
+_Gom._ Help, good Christians! help, neighbours! my house is broken
+open by force, and I am ravished, and like to be assassinated!--What
+do you mean, villains? will you carry me away, like a pedlar's pack,
+upon your backs? will you murder a man in plain day-light?
+
+_1 Soldier._ No; but we'll secure you for a traitor, and for being in
+a plot against the state.
+
+_Gom,_ Who, I in a plot! O Lord! O Lord! I never durst be in a plot:
+Why, how can you in conscience suspect a rich citizen of so much wit
+as to make a plotter? There are none but poor rogues, and those that
+can't live without it, that are in plots.
+
+_2 Soldier._ Away with him, away with him.
+
+_Gom._ O my gold! my wife! my wife! my gold! As I hope to be saved
+now, I know no more of the plot than they that made it.
+                                    [_They carry him off, and exeunt._
+
+_Lor._ Thus far we have sailed with a merry gale, and now we have the
+Cape of Good Hope in sight; the trade-wind is our own, if we can but
+double it.                                            [_He looks out._
+[_Aside._] Ah, my father and Pedro stand at the corner of the street
+with company; there's no stirring till they are past.
+
+  _Enter_ ELVIRA _with a casket._
+
+_Elv._ Am I come at last into your arms?
+
+_Lor._ Fear nothing; the adventure's ended, and the knight may carry
+off the lady safely.
+
+_Elv._ I'm so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am at liberty; but
+stand panting, like a bird that has often beaten her wings in vain
+against her cage, and at last dares hardly venture out, though she
+sees it open.
+
+_Dom._ Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for you; and
+thereupon I give you my benediction.
+
+_Lor._ 'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's an old gentleman
+of my acquaintance, that blocks up the passage at the corner of the
+street.
+
+_Dom._ What have you gotten there under your arm, daughter? somewhat,
+I hope, that will bear your charges in your pilgrimage.
+
+_Lor._ The friar has an hawk's eye to gold and jewels.
+
+_Elv._ Here's that will make you dance without a fiddle, and provide
+better entertainment for us, than hedges in summer, and barns in
+winter. Here's the very heart, and soul, and life-blood of Gomez;
+pawns in abundance, old gold of widows, and new gold of prodigals, and
+pearls and diamonds of court ladies, till the next bribe helps their
+husbands to redeem them.
+
+_Dom._ They are the spoils of the wicked, and the church endows you
+with them.
+
+_Lor._ And, faith, we'll drink the church's health out of them. But
+all this while I stand on thorns. Pr'ythee, dear, look out, and see if
+the coast be free for our escape; for I dare not peep, for fear of
+being known.                  [ELVIRA _goes to look, and_ GOMEZ _comes
+                               running in upon her: She shrieks out._
+
+_Gom._ Thanks to my stars, I have recovered my own territories.--What
+do I see? I'm ruined! I'm undone! I'm betrayed!
+
+_Dom._ [_Aside._] What a hopeful enterprise is here spoiled!
+
+_Gom._ O, colonel are you there?--and you, friar? nay, then I find how
+the world goes.
+
+_Lor._ Cheer up, man, thou art out of jeopardy; I heard thee crying
+out just now, and came running in full speed, with the wings of an
+eagle, and the feet of a tiger, to thy rescue.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, you are always at hand to do me a courtesy, with your
+eagle's feet, and your tiger's wings.--And what were you here for,
+friar?
+
+_Dom._ To interpose my spiritual authority in your behalf.
+
+_Gom._ And why did you shriek out, gentlewoman?
+
+_Elv._ 'Twas for joy at your return.
+
+_Gom._ And that casket under your arm, for what end and purpose?
+
+_Elv._ Only to preserve it from the thieves.
+
+_Gom._ And you came running out of doors--
+
+_Elv._ Only to meet you, sweet husband.
+
+_Gom._ A fine evidence summed up among you; thank you heartily, you
+are all my friends. The colonel was walking by accidentally, and
+hearing my voice, came in to save me; the friar, who was hobbling the
+same way too, accidentally again, and not knowing of the colonel, I
+warrant you, he comes in to pray for me; and my faithful wife runs out
+of doors to meet me, with all my jewels under her arm, and shrieks out
+for joy at my return. But if my father-in-law had not met your
+soldiers, colonel, and delivered me in the nick, I should neither have
+found a friend nor a friar here, and might have shrieked out for joy
+myself, for the loss of my jewels and my wife.
+
+_Dom._ Art thou an infidel? Wilt thou not believe us?
+
+_Gom._ Such churchmen as you would make any man an infidel.--Get you
+into your kennel, gentlewoman; I shall thank you within doors for your
+safe custody of my jewels and your own.
+                                 [_He thrusts his wife off the stage._
+As for you, colonel Huffcap, we shall try before a civil magistrate,
+who's the greater plotter of us two, I against the state, or you
+against the petticoat.
+
+_Lor._ Nay, if you will complain, you shall for something.
+                                                         [_Beats him._
+
+_Gom._ Murder, murder! I give up the ghost! I am destroyed! help,
+murder, murder!
+
+_Dom._ Away, colonel; let us fly for our lives: the neighbours are
+coming out with forks, and fire-shovels, and spits, and other domestic
+weapons; the militia of a whole alley is raised against us.
+
+_Lor._ This is but the interest of my debt, master usurer; the
+principal shall be paid you at our next meeting.
+
+_Dom._ Ah, if your soldiers had but dispatched him, his tongue had
+been laid asleep, colonel; but this comes of not following good
+counsel; ah--                    [_Exeunt_ LOR. _and Friar severally._
+
+_Gom._ I'll be revenged of him, if I dare; but he's such a terrible
+fellow, that my mind misgives me; I shall tremble when I have him
+before the judge. All my misfortunes come together. I have been
+robbed, and cuckolded, and ravished, and beaten, in one quarter of an
+hour; my poor limbs smart, and my poor head aches: ay, do, do, smart
+limb, ache head, and sprout horns; but I'll be hanged before I'll pity
+you:--you must needs be married, must ye? there's for that; [_Beats
+his own head._] and to a fine, young, modish lady, must ye? there's
+for that too; and, at threescore, you old, doting cuckold! take that
+remembrance;--a fine time of day for a man to be bound prentice, when
+he is past using of his trade; to set up an equipage of noise, when he
+has most need of quiet; instead of her being under covert-baron, to be
+under covert-femme myself; to have my body disabled, and my head
+fortified; and, lastly, to be crowded into a narrow box with a shrill
+treble,
+  That with one blast through the whole house does bound,
+  And first taught speaking-trumpets how to sound.            [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The Court._
+
+  _Enter_ RAYMOND, ALPHONSO, _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Raym._ Are these, are these, ye powers, the promised joys,
+With which I flattered my long, tedious absence,
+To find, at my return, my master murdered?
+O, that I could but weep, to vent my passion!
+But this dry sorrow burns up all my tears.
+
+_Alph._ Mourn inward, brother; 'tis observed at court,
+Who weeps, and who wears black; and your return
+Will fix all eyes on every act of yours,
+To see how you resent King Sancho's death.
+
+_Raym._ What generous man can live with that constraint
+Upon his soul, to bear, much less to flatter,
+A court like this! Can I sooth tyranny?
+Seem pleased to see my royal master murdered,
+His crown usurped, a distaff in the throne,
+A council made of such as dare not speak,
+And could not, if they durst; whence honest men
+Banish themselves, for shame of being there:
+A government, that, knowing not true wisdom,
+Is scorned abroad, and lives on tricks at home?
+
+_Alph._ Virtue must be thrown off; 'tis a coarse garment,
+Too heavy for the sun-shine of a court.
+
+_Raym._ Well then, I will dissemble, for an end
+So great, so pious, as a just revenge:
+You'll join with me?
+
+_Alph._ No honest man but must.
+
+_Ped._ What title has this queen, but lawless force?
+And force must pull her down.
+
+_Alph._ Truth is, I pity Leonora's case;
+Forced, for her safety, to commit a crime,
+Which most her soul abhors.
+
+_Raym._ All she has done, or e'er can do, of good,
+This one black deed has damned.
+
+_Ped,_ You'll hardly gain your son to our design.
+
+_Raym._ Your reason for't?
+
+_Ped._ I want time to unriddle it:
+Put on your t'other face, the queen approaches.
+
+  _Enter_ LEONORA, BERTRAN, _and Attendants._
+
+_Raym._ And that accursed Bertran
+Stalks close behind her, like a witch's fiend,
+Pressing to be employed; stand, and observe them.
+
+_Leo._ to _Bert._ Buried in private, and so suddenly!
+It crosses my design, which was to allow
+The rites of funeral fitting his degree,
+With all the pomp of mourning.
+
+_Bert._ It was not safe:
+Objects of pity, when the cause is new,
+Would work too fiercely on the giddy crowd:
+Had Caesar's body never been exposed,
+Brutus had gained his cause.
+
+_Leo._ Then, was he loved?
+
+_Bert._ O, never man so much, for saint-like goodness.
+
+_Ped._ Had bad men feared him, but as good men loved him,
+He had not yet been sainted.                                 [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ I wonder how the people bear his death.
+
+_Bert._ Some discontents there are; some idle murmurs.
+
+_Ped._ How, idle murmurs! Let me plainly speak:
+The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,
+With arms across, and hats upon their eyes,
+Walk to and fro before their silent shops;
+Whole droves of lenders crowd the bankers' doors,
+To call in money; those, who have none, mark
+Where money goes; for when they rise, 'tis plunder:
+The rabble gather round the man of news,
+And listen with their mouths;
+Some tell, some hear, some judge of news, some make it;
+And he, who lies most loud, is most believed.
+
+_Leo._ This may be dangerous.
+
+_Raym._ Pray heaven it may!                                  [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ If one of you must fall,
+Self-preservation is the first of laws;
+And if, when subjects are oppressed by kings,
+They justify rebellion by that law,
+As well may monarchs turn the edge of right
+To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.
+
+_Leo._ You place such arbitrary power in kings,
+That I much fear, if I should make you one,
+You'll make yourself a tyrant; let these know
+By what authority you did this act.
+
+_Bert._ You much surprise me, to demand that question:
+But, since truth must be told, 'twas by your own.
+
+_Leo._ Produce it; or, by heaven, your head shall answer
+The forfeit of your tongue.
+
+_Raym._ Brave mischief towards.                              [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ You bade me.
+
+_Leo._ When, and where?
+
+_Bert._ No, I confess, you bade me not in words;
+The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs,
+And pointed full upon the stroke of murder:
+Yet this you said,
+You were a woman, ignorant and weak,
+So left it to my care.
+
+_Leo._ What, if I said,
+I was a woman, ignorant and weak,
+Were you to take the advantage of my sex,
+And play the devil to tempt me? You contrived,
+You urged, you drove me headlong to your toils;
+And if, much tired, and frighted more, I paused,
+Were you to make my doubts your own commission?
+
+_Bert._ This 'tis, to serve a prince too faithfully;
+Who, free from laws himself, will have that done,
+Which, not performed, brings us to sure disgrace;
+And, if performed, to ruin.
+
+_Leo._ This 'tis, to counsel things that are unjust;
+First, to debauch a king to break his laws,
+Which are his safety, and then seek protection
+From him you have endangered; but, just heaven,
+When sins are judged, will damn the tempting devil,
+More deep than those he tempted.
+
+_Bert._ If princes not protect their ministers,
+What man will dare to serve them?
+
+_Leo._ None will dare
+To serve them ill, when they are left to laws;
+But, when a counsellor, to save himself,
+Would lay miscarriages upon his prince,
+Exposing him to public rage and hate;
+O, 'tis an act as infamously base,
+As, should a common soldier sculk behind,
+And thrust his general in the front of war:
+It shews, he only served himself before,
+And had no sense of honour, country, king,
+But centered on himself, and used his master,
+As guardians do their wards, with shews of care,
+But with intent to sell the public safety,
+And pocket up his prince.
+
+_Ped._ Well said, i'faith;
+This speech is e'en too good for an usurper.                 [_Aside._
+
+_Bert._ I see for whom I must be sacrificed;
+And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,
+I might have found it sooner.
+
+_Leo._ From my sight!
+The prince, who bears an insolence like this,
+Is such an image of the powers above,
+As is the statue of the thundering god,
+Whose bolts the boys may play with.
+
+_Bert._ Unrevenged
+I will not fall, nor single.                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ Welcome, welcome!            [_To_ RAYM. _who kisses her hand._
+I saw you not before: One honest lord
+Is hid with ease among a crowd of courtiers.
+How can I be too grateful to the father
+Of such a son as Torrismond?
+
+_Raym._ His actions were but duty.
+
+_Leo._ Yet, my lord,
+All have not paid that debt, like noble Torrismond.
+You hear, how Bertran brands me with a crime,
+Of which, your son can witness, I am free.
+I sent to stop the murder, but too late;
+For crimes are swift, but penitence is slow:
+The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,
+Flew to prevent the soft returns of pity.
+
+_Raym._ O cursed haste, of making sure of sin!--
+Can you forgive the traitor?
+
+_Leo._ Never, never:
+'Tis written here in characters so deep,
+That seven years hence, ('till then should I not meet him,)
+And in the temple then, I'll drag him thence,
+Even from the holy altar to the block.
+
+_Raym._ She's fired, as I would wish her; aid me, justice,   [_Aside._
+As all my ends are thine, to gain this point,
+And ruin both at once.--It wounds, indeed,                  [_To her._
+To bear affronts, too great to be forgiven,
+And not have power to punish; yet one way
+There is to ruin Bertran.
+
+_Leo._ O, there's none;
+Except an host from heaven can make such haste
+To save my crown, as he will do to seize it.
+You saw, he came surrounded with his friends,
+And knew, besides, our army was removed
+To quarters too remote for sudden use.
+
+_Raym._ Yet you may give commission
+To some bold man, whose loyalty you trust,
+And let him raise the train-bands of the city.
+
+_Leo._ Gross feeders, lion talkers, lamb-like fighters.
+
+_Raym._ You do not know the virtues of your city,
+What pushing force they have; some popular chief,
+More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo,
+And, in a trice, the bellowing herd come out;
+The gates are barred, the ways are barricadoed,
+And _One and all's_ the word; true cocks o'the game,
+That never ask, for what, or whom, they fight;
+But turn them out, and shew them but a foe,
+Cry--_Liberty!_ and that's a cause of quarrel.
+
+_Leo._ There may be danger in that boisterous rout:
+Who knows, when fires are kindled for my foes,
+But some new blast of wind may turn those flames
+Against my palace-walls?
+
+_Raym._ But still their chief
+Must be some one, whose loyalty you trust.
+
+_Leo._ And who more proper for that trust than you,
+Whose interests, though unknown to you, are mine?
+Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the rabble;
+He shall appear to head them.
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside to_ ALPH. _and_ PED.]
+First sieze Bertran,
+And then insinuate to them, that I bring
+Their lawful prince to place upon the throne.
+
+_Alph._ Our lawful prince!
+
+_Raym._ Fear not; I can produce him.
+
+_Ped._ [_To_ ALPH.]
+Now we want your son Lorenzo:  what a mighty faction
+Would he make for us of the city-wives,
+With,--Oh, dear husband, my sweet honey husband,
+Wont you be for the colonel? if you love me,
+Be for the colonel; Oh, he's the finest man!
+                                            [_Exeunt_ ALPH. _and_ PED.
+
+_Raym._ So, now we have a plot behind the plot.
+She thinks, she's in the depth of my design,
+And that 'tis all for her; but time shall show,
+She only lives to help me ruin others,
+And last, to fall herself.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ Now, to you, Raymond: can you guess no reason
+Why I repose such confidence in you?
+You needs must think,
+There's some more powerful cause than loyalty:
+Will you not speak, to save a lady's blush?
+Need I inform you, 'tis for Torrismond,
+That all this grace is shown?
+
+_Raym._ By all the powers, worse, worse than what I feared!  [_Aside._
+
+_Leo._ And yet, what need I blush at such a choice?
+I love a man whom I am proud to love,
+And am well pleased my inclination gives
+What gratitude would force. O pardon me;
+I ne'er was covetous of wealth before;
+Yet think so vast a treasure as your son,
+Too great for any private man's possession;
+And him too rich a jewel, to be set
+In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.
+
+_Raym._ Arm me with patience, heaven!
+
+_Leo._ How, patience, Raymond?
+What exercise of patience have you here?
+What find you in my crown to be contemned;
+Or in my person loathed? Have I, a queen,
+Past by my fellow-rulers of the world,
+Whose vying crowns lay glittering in my way,
+As if the world were paved with diadems?
+Have I refused their blood, to mix with yours,
+And raise new kings from so obscure a race,
+Fate scarce knew where to find them, when I called?
+Have I heaped on my person, crown, and state,
+To load the scale, and weighed myself with earth,
+For you to spurn the balance?
+
+_Raym._ Bate the last, and 'tis what I would say:
+Can I, can any loyal subject, see
+With patience, such a stoop from sovereignty,
+An ocean poured upon a narrow brook?
+My zeal for you must lay the father by,
+And plead my country's cause against my son.
+What though his heart be great, his actions gallant,
+He wants a crown to poise against a crown,
+Birth to match birth, and power to balance power.
+
+_Leo._ All these I have, and these I can bestow;
+But he brings worth and virtue to my bed;
+And virtue is the wealth which tyrants want:
+I stand in need of one, whose glories may
+Redeem my crimes, ally me to his fame,
+Dispel the factions of my foes on earth,
+Disarm the justice of the powers above.
+
+_Raym._ The people never will endure this choice.
+
+_Leo._ If I endure it, what imports it you?
+Go, raise the ministers of my revenge,
+Guide with your breath this whirling tempest round,
+And see its fury fall where I design.
+At last a time for just revenge is given;
+Revenge, the darling attribute of heaven:
+But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;
+Still more exposed, the more he pardons wrong;
+Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;
+To be a saint, he makes himself a slave.                [_Exit Queen._
+
+_Raym._ [_Solus._]
+Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be,
+By heaven, it must not be! or, if it be,
+Law, justice, honour, bid farewell to earth,
+For heaven leaves all to tyrants.
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, _who kneels to him._
+
+_Tor._ O, very welcome, sir!
+But doubly now! You come in such a time,
+As if propitious fortune took a care,
+To swell my tide of joys to their full height,
+And leave me nothing farther to desire.
+
+_Raym._ I hope, I come in time, if not to make,
+At least to save your fortune and your honour.
+Take heed you steer your vessel right, my son;
+This calm of heaven, this mermaid's melody,
+Into an unseen whirlpool draws you fast,
+And, in a moment, sinks you.
+
+_Tor._ Fortune cannot,
+And fate can scarce; I've made the port already,
+And laugh securely at the lazy storm,
+That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.
+Your pardon, sir; my duty calls me hence;
+I go to find my queen, my earthly goddess,
+To whom I owe my hopes, my life, my love.
+
+_Raym._ You owe her more, perhaps, than you imagine;
+Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first.
+This hour's the very crisis of your fate,
+Your good or ill, your infamy or fame,
+And all the colour of your life, depends
+On this important now.
+
+_Tor._ I see no danger;
+The city, army, court, espouse my cause,
+And, more than all, the queen, with public favour,
+Indulges my pretensions to her love.
+
+_Raym._ Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,
+'Tis granted, nothing hinders your design.
+
+_Tor._ If she can make me blest? she only can;
+Empire, and wealth, and all she brings beside,
+Are but the train and trappings of her love:
+The sweetest, kindest, truest of her sex,
+In whose possession years roll round on years,
+And joys, in circles, meet new joys again;
+Kisses, embraces, languishing, and death,
+Still from each other to each other move,
+To crown the various seasons of our love;
+And doubt you if such love can make me happy?
+
+_Raym._ Yes; for, I think, you love your honour more.
+
+_Tor._ And what can shock my honour in a queen?
+
+_Raym._ A tyrant, an usurper?
+
+_Tor._ Grant she be;
+When from the conqueror we hold our lives,
+We yield ourselves his subjects from that hour;
+For mutual benefits make mutual ties.
+
+_Raym._ Why, can you think I owe a thief my life,
+Because he took it not by lawless force?
+What, if he did not all the ill he could?
+Am I obliged by that to assist his rapines,
+And to maintain his murders?
+
+_Tor._ Not to maintain, but bear them unrevenged.
+Kings' titles commonly begin by force,
+Which time wears off, and mellows into right;
+So power, which, in one age, is tyranny,
+Is ripened, in the next, to true succession:
+She's in possession.
+
+_Raym._ So diseases are:
+Should not a lingering fever be removed,
+Because it long has raged within my blood?
+Do I rebel, when I would thrust it out?
+What, shall I think the world was made for one,
+And men are born for kings, as beasts for men,
+Not for protection, but to be devoured?
+Mark those, who dote on arbitrary power,
+And you shall find them either hot-brained youth,
+Or needy bankrupts, servile in their greatness,
+And slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest.
+O baseness, to support a tyrant throne,
+And crush your freeborn brethren of the world!
+Nay, to become a part of usurpation;
+To espouse the tyrant's person and her crimes,
+And, on a tyrant, get a race of tyrants,
+To be your country's curse in after ages.
+
+_Tor._ I see no crime in her whom I adore,
+Or, if I do, her beauty makes it none:
+Look on me as a man abandoned o'er
+To an eternal lethargy of love;
+To pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,
+And but disturb the quiet of my death.
+
+_Raym._ O virtue, virtue! what art thou become,
+That man should leave thee for that toy, a woman,
+Made from the dross and refuse of a man!
+Heaven took him, sleeping, when he made her too;
+Had man been waking, he had ne'er consented.
+Now, son, suppose
+Some brave conspiracy were ready formed,
+To punish tyrants, and redeem the land,
+Could you so far belie your country's hope,
+As not to head the party?
+
+_Tor._ How could my hand rebel against my heart?
+
+_Raym._ How could your heart rebel against your reason?
+
+_Tor._ No honour bids me fight against myself;
+The royal family is all extinct,
+And she, who reigns, bestows her crown on me:
+So must I be ungrateful to the living,
+To be but vainly pious to the dead,
+While you defraud your offspring of their fate.
+
+_Raym._ Mark who defraud their offspring, you or I?
+For know, there yet survives the lawful heir
+Of Sancho's blood, whom when I shall produce,
+I rest assured to see you pale with fear,
+And trembling at his name.
+
+_Tor._ He must be more than man, who makes me tremble.
+I dare him to the field, with all the odds
+Of justice on his side, against my tyrant:
+Produce your lawful prince, and you shall see
+How brave a rebel love has made your son.
+
+_Raym._ Read that; 'tis with the royal signet signed,
+And given me, by the king, when time should serve,
+To be perused by you.
+
+_Tor._ [_Reads._] _I, the king.
+My youngest and alone surviving son,
+Reported dead, to escape rebellious rage,
+Till happier times shall call his courage forth,
+To break my fetters, or revenge my fate,
+I will that Raymond educate as his,
+And call him Torrismond--_
+If I am he, that son, that Torrismond,
+The world contains not so forlorn a wretch!
+Let never man believe he can be happy!
+For, when I thought my fortune most secure,
+One fatal moment tears me from my joys;
+And when two hearts were joined by mutual love,
+The sword of justice cuts upon the knot,
+And severs them for ever.
+
+_Raym._ True, it must.
+
+_Tor._ O, cruel man, to tell me that it must!
+If you have any pity in your breast,
+Redeem me from this labyrinth of fate,
+And plunge me in my first obscurity.
+The secret is alone between us two;
+And, though you would not hide me from myself,
+O, yet be kind, conceal me from the world,
+And be my father still!
+
+_Raym._ Your lot's too glorious, and the proof's too plain.
+Now, in the name of honour, sir, I beg you,--
+Since I must use authority no more,--
+On these old knees, I beg you, ere I die,
+That I may see your father's death revenged.
+
+_Tor._ Why, 'tis the only business of my life;
+My order's issued to recall the army,
+And Bertran's death's resolved.
+
+_Raym._ And not the queen's? O, she's the chief offender!
+Shall justice turn her edge within your hand?
+No, if she 'scape, you are yourself the tyrant,
+And murderer of your father.
+
+_Tor._ Cruel fates!
+To what have you reserved me?
+
+_Raym._ Why that sigh?
+
+_Tor._ Since you must know,--but break, O break, my heart,
+Before I tell my fatal story out!--
+The usurper of my throne, my house's ruin!
+The murderer of my father,--is my wife!
+
+_Raym._ O horror, horror!--After this alliance,
+Let tigers match with hinds, and wolves with sheep,
+And every creature couple with his foe.
+How vainly man designs, when heaven opposes!
+I bred you up to arms, raised you to power,
+Permitted you to fight for this usurper,
+Indeed to save a crown, not hers, but yours,
+All to make sure the vengeance of this day,
+Which even this day has ruined. One more question
+Let me but ask, and I have done for ever;--
+Do you yet love the cause of all your woes,
+Or is she grown, as sure she ought to be,
+More odious to your sight than toads and adders?
+
+_Tor._ O there's the utmost malice of my fate,
+That I am bound to hate, and born to love!
+
+_Raym._ No more!--Farewell, my much lamented king!--
+I dare not trust him with himself so far,
+To own him to the people as their king,
+Before their rage has finished my designs
+On Bertran and the queen; but in despite,
+Even of himself, I'll save him.                     [_Aside and exit._
+
+_Tor._ 'Tis but a moment since I have been king,
+And weary on't already; I'm a lover,
+And loved, possess,--yet all these make me wretched;
+And heaven has given me blessings for a curse.
+With what a load of vengeance am I prest,
+Yet, never, never, can I hope for rest;
+For when my heavy burden I remove,
+The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.                [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Bed-Chamber._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Love, justice, nature, pity, and revenge,
+Have kindled up a wildfire in my breast,
+And I am all a civil war within!
+
+  _Enter Queen and_ TERESA, _at a distance._
+
+My Leonora there!--
+Mine! is she mine? my father's murderer mine?
+O! that I could, with honour, love her more,
+Or hate her less, with reason!--See, she weeps!
+Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why
+I thus estrange my person from her bed!
+Shall I not tell her?--no; 'twill break her heart;
+She'll know too soon her own and my misfortunes.              [_Exit._
+
+_Leo._ He's gone, and I am lost; did'st thou not see
+His sullen eyes? how gloomily they glanced?
+He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.
+
+_Ter._ Can you not guess from whence this change proceeds?
+
+_Leo._ No: there's the grief, Teresa: Oh, Teresa!
+Fain would I tell thee what I feel within,
+But shame and modesty have tied my tongue!
+Yet, I will tell, that thou may'st weep with me.--
+How dear, how sweet his first embraces were!
+With what a zeal he joined his lips to mine!
+And sucked my breath at every word I spoke,
+As if he drew his inspiration hence:
+While both our souls came upward to our mouths,
+As neighbouring monarchs at their borders meet;
+I thought--Oh, no; 'tis false! I could not think;
+'Twas neither life nor death, but both in one.
+
+_Ter._ Then, sure his transports were not less than yours.
+
+_Leo._ More, more! for, by the high-hung tapers' light,
+I could discern his cheeks were glowing red,
+His very eyeballs trembled with his love,
+And sparkled through their casements humid fires;
+He sighed, and kissed; breathed short, and would have spoke,
+But was too fierce to throw away the time;
+All he could say was--love and Leonora.
+
+_Ter._ How then can you suspect him lost so soon?
+
+_Leo._ Last night he flew not with a bridegroom's haste,
+Which eagerly prevents the appointed hour:
+I told the clocks, and watched the wasting light,
+And listened to each softly-treading step,
+In hope 'twas he; but still it was not he.
+At last he came, but with such altered looks,
+So wild, so ghastly, as if some ghost had met him:
+All pale, and speechless, he surveyed me round;
+Then, with a groan, he threw himself a-bed,
+But, far from me, as far as he could move,
+And sighed and tossed, and turned, but still from me.
+
+_Ter._ What, all the night?
+
+_Leo._ Even all the livelong night.
+At last, (for, blushing, I must tell thee all,)
+I pressed his hand, and laid me by his side;
+He pulled it back, as if he touched a serpent.
+With that I burst into a flood of tears,
+And asked him how I had offended him?
+He answered nothing, but with sighs and groans;
+So, restless, past the night; and, at the dawn,
+Leapt from the bed, and vanished.
+
+_Ter._ Sighs and groans,
+Paleness and trembling, all are signs of love;
+He only fears to make you share his sorrows.
+
+_Leo._ I wish 'twere so; but love still doubts the worst;
+My heavy heart, the prophetess of woes,
+Forebodes some ill at hand: to sooth my sadness,
+Sing me the song, which poor Olympia made,
+When false Bireno left her.
+
+          SONG.
+
+  _Farewell, ungrateful traitor!
+    Farewell, my perjured swain!
+  Let never injured creature
+    Believe a man again.
+  The pleasure of possessing
+  Surpasses all expressing,
+  But 'tis too short a blessing,
+    And love too long a pain._
+
+  _'Tis easy to deceive us,
+    In pity of your pain;
+  But when we love, you leave us,
+    To rail at you in vain.
+  Before we have descried it,
+  There is no bliss beside it;
+  But she, that once has tried it,
+    Will never love again._
+
+  _The passion you pretended,
+    Was only to obtain;
+  But when the charm is ended,
+    The charmer you disdain.
+  Your love by ours we measure,
+  Till we have lost our treasure;
+  But dying is a pleasure,
+    When living is a pain._
+
+  _Re-enter_ TORRISMOND.
+
+_Tor._ Still she is here, and still I cannot speak;
+But wander, like some discontented ghost,
+That oft appears, but is forbid to talk.               [_Going again._
+
+_Leo._ O, Torrismond, if you resolve my death,
+You need no more, but to go hence again;
+Will you not speak?
+
+_Tor._ I cannot.
+
+_Leo._ Speak! oh, speak!
+Your anger would be kinder than your silence.
+
+_Tor._ Oh!--
+
+_Leo._ Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh.
+
+_Tor._ Why do I live, ye powers!
+
+_Leo._ Why do I live to hear you speak that word?
+Some black-mouthed villain has defamed my virtue.
+
+_Tor._ No, no! Pray, let me go.
+
+_Leo._ [_Kneeling._] You shall not go!
+By all the pleasures of our nuptial bed,
+If ever I was loved, though now I'm not,
+By these true tears, which, from my wounded heart,
+Bleed at my eyes--
+
+_Tor._ Rise.
+
+_Leo._ I will never rise;
+I cannot chuse a better place to die.
+
+_Tor._ Oh! I would speak, but cannot.
+
+_Leo._ [_Rising._]
+Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not:
+What have I done, ye powers, what have I done,
+To see my youth, my beauty, and my love,
+No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed;
+And, like a rose, just gathered from the stalk,
+But only smelt, and cheaply thrown aside,
+To wither on the ground.
+
+_Ter._ For heaven's sake, madam, moderate your passion!
+
+_Leo._ Why namest thou heaven? there is no heaven for me.
+Despair, death, hell, have seized my tortured soul!
+When I had raised his grovelling fate from ground,
+To power and love, to empire, and to me;
+When each embrace was dearer than the first;
+Then, then to be contemned; then, then thrown off!
+It calls me old, and withered, and deformed,
+And loathsome! Oh! what woman can bear loathsome?
+The turtle flies not from his billing mate,
+He bills the closer; but, ungrateful man,
+Base, barbarous man! the more we raise our love,
+The more we pall, and kill, and cool his ardour.
+Racks, poison, daggers, rid me of my life;
+And any death is welcome.
+
+_Tor._ Be witness all ye powers, that know my heart,
+I would have kept the fatal secret hid;
+But she has conquered, to her ruin conquered:
+Here, take this paper, read our destinies;--
+Yet do not; but, in kindness to yourself,
+Be ignorantly safe.
+
+_Leo._ No! give it me,
+Even though it be the sentence of my death.
+
+_Tor._ Then see how much unhappy love has made us.
+O Leonora! Oh!
+We two were born when sullen planets reigned;
+When each the other's influence opposed,
+And drew the stars to factions at our birth.
+Oh! better, better had it been for us,
+That we had never seen, or never loved.
+
+_Leo._ There is no faith in heaven, if heaven says so;
+You dare not give it.
+
+_Tor._ As unwillingly,
+As I would reach out opium to a friend,
+Who lay in torture, and desired to die.            [_Gives the Paper._
+But now you have it, spare my sight the pain
+Of seeing what a world of tears it costs you.
+Go, silently, enjoy your part of grief,
+And share the sad inheritance with me.
+
+_Leo._ I have a thirsty fever in my soul;
+Give me but present ease, and let me die.  [_Exeunt Queen and_ TERESA.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO.
+
+_Lor._ Arm, arm, my lord! the city bands are up;
+Drums beating, colours flying, shouts confused;
+All clustering in a heap, like swarming hives,
+And rising in a moment.
+
+_Tor._ With design to punish Bertran, and revenge the king;
+'Twas ordered so.
+
+_Lor._ Then you're betrayed, my lord.
+'Tis true, they block the castle kept by Bertran,
+But now they cry, "Down with the palace, fire it,
+Pull out the usurping queen!"
+
+_Tor._ The queen, Lorenzo! durst they name the queen?
+
+_Lor._ If railing and reproaching be to name her.
+
+_Tor._ O sacrilege! say quickly, who commands
+This vile blaspheming rout?
+
+_Lor._ I'm loth to tell you;
+But both our fathers thrust them headlong on,
+And bear down all before them.
+
+_Tor._ Death and hell!
+Somewhat must be resolved, and speedily.
+How say'st thou, my Lorenzo? dar'st thou be
+A friend, and once forget thou art a son,
+To help me save the queen?
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] Let me consider:--
+Bear arms against my father? he begat me;--
+That's true; but for whose sake did he beget me?
+For his own, sure enough: for me he knew not.
+Oh! but says conscience,--Fly in nature's face?--
+But how, if nature fly in my face first?
+Then nature's the aggressor; let her look to't.--
+He gave me life, and he may take it back:
+No, that's boys' play, say I.
+'Tis policy for a son and father to take different sides:
+For then, lands and tenements commit no treason.
+[_To_ TOR.] Sir, upon mature consideration, I have found my father to
+be little better than a rebel, and therefore, I'll do my best to
+secure him, for your sake; in hope, you may secure him hereafter for
+my sake.
+
+_Tor._ Put on thy utmost speed to head the troops,
+Which every moment I expect to arrive;
+Proclaim me, as I am, the lawful king:
+I need not caution thee for Raymond's life,
+Though I no more must call him father now.
+
+_Lor._ [_Aside._] How! not call him father? I see preferment alters a
+man strangely; this may serve me for a use of instruction, to cast off
+my father when I am great. Methought too, he called himself the lawful
+king; intimating sweetly, that he knows what's what with our sovereign
+lady:--Well if I rout my father, as I hope in heaven I shall, I am in
+a fair way to be the prince of the blood.--Farewell, general; I will
+bring up those that shall try what mettle there is in orange tawny.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Tor._ [_At the Door._]
+Haste there; command the guards be all drawn up
+Before the palace-gate.--By heaven, I'll face
+This tempest, and deserve the name of king!
+O Leonora, beauteous in thy crimes,
+Never were hell and heaven so matched before!
+Look upward, fair, but as thou look'st on me;
+  Then all the blest will beg, that thou may'st live,
+  And even my father's ghost his death forgive.               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_The Palace-Yard. Drums and Trumpets within._
+
+  _Enter_ RAYMOND, ALPHONSO, PEDRO, _and their Party._
+
+_Raym._ Now, valiant citizens, the time is come,
+To show your courage, and your loyalty.
+You have a prince of Sancho's royal blood,
+The darling of the heavens, and joy of earth;
+When he's produced, as soon he shall, among you,
+Speak, what will you adventure to reseat him
+Upon his father's throne?
+
+_Omn._ Our lives and fortunes.
+
+_Raym._ What then remains to perfect our success;
+But o'er the tyrant's guards to force our way?
+
+_Omn._ Lead on, lead on.      [_Drums and Trumpets on the other side._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND _and his Party: As they are going to fight, he
+  speaks._
+
+_Tor._ [_To his._] Hold, hold your arms.
+
+_Raym._ [_To his._] Retire.
+
+_Alph._ What means this pause?
+
+_Ped._ Peace; nature works within them.  [ALPH. _and_ PED. _go apart._
+
+_Tor._ How comes it, good old man, that we two meet
+On these harsh terms? thou very reverend rebel;
+Thou venerable traitor, in whose face
+And hoary hairs treason is sanctified,
+And sin's black dye seems blanched by age to virtue.
+
+_Raym._ What treason is it to redeem my king,
+And to reform the state?
+
+_Tor._ That's a stale cheat;
+The primitive rebel, Lucifer, first used it,
+And was the first reformer of the skies.
+
+_Raym._ What, if I see my prince mistake a poison,
+Call it a cordial,--am I then a traitor,
+Because I hold his hand, or break the glass?
+
+_Tor._ How darest thou serve thy king against his will?
+
+_Raym._ Because 'tis then the only time to serve him.
+
+_Tor._ I take the blame of all upon myself;
+Discharge thy weight on me.
+
+_Raym._ O never, never!
+Why, 'tis to leave a ship, tossed in a tempest,
+Without the pilot's care.
+
+_Tor._ I'll punish thee;
+By heaven, I will, as I would punish rebels,
+Thou stubborn loyal man!
+
+_Raym._ First let me see
+Her punished, who misleads you from your fame;
+Then burn me, hack me, hew me into pieces,
+And I shall die well pleased.
+
+_Tor._ Proclaim my title,
+To save the effusion of my subjects' blood; and thou shalt still
+Be as my foster-father near my breast,
+And next my Leonora.
+
+_Raym._ That word stabs me.
+You shall be still plain Torrismond with me;
+The abettor, partner, (if you like that name,)
+The husband of a tyrant; but no king,
+Till you deserve that title by your justice.
+
+_Tor._ Then farewell, pity; I will be obeyed.--
+[_To the People._] Hear, you mistaken men, whose loyalty
+Runs headlong into treason: See your prince!
+In me behold your murdered Sancho's son;
+Dismiss your arms, and I forgive your crimes.
+
+_Raym._ Believe him not; he raves; his words are loose
+As heaps of sand, and scattering wide from sense.
+You see he knows not me, his natural father;
+But, aiming to possess the usurping queen,
+So high he's mounted in his airy hopes,
+That now the wind is got into his head,
+And turns his brains to frenzy.
+
+_Tor._ Hear me yet; I am--
+
+_Raym._ Fall on, fall on, and hear him not;
+But spare his person, for his father's sake.
+
+_Ped._ Let me come; if he be mad, I have that shall cure him. There's
+no surgeon in all Arragon has so much dexterity as I have at breathing
+of the temple-vein.
+
+_Tor._ My right for me!
+
+_Raym._ Our liberty for us!
+
+_Omn._ Liberty, liberty!
+
+  _As they are ready to Fight, enter_ LORENZO _and his Party._
+
+_Lor._ On forfeit of your lives, lay down your arms.
+
+_Alph._ How, rebel, art thou there?
+
+_Lor._ Take your rebel back again, father mine: The beaten party are
+rebels to the conquerors. I have been at hard-head with your butting
+citizens; I have routed your herd; I have dispersed them; and now they
+are retreated quietly, from their extraordinary vocation of fighting
+in the streets, to their ordinary vocation of cozening in their shops.
+
+_Tor._ [_To_ RAYM.]
+You see 'tis vain contending with the truth;
+Acknowledge what I am.
+
+_Raym._ You are my king;--would you would be your own!
+But, by a fatal fondness, you betray
+Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed.
+Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide,
+Take your own crown from Leonora's gift,
+And hug your father's murderer in your arms!
+
+  _Enter Queen,_ TERESA, _and Women._
+
+_Alph._ No more; behold the queen.
+
+_Raym._ Behold the basilisk of Torrismond,
+That kills him with her eyes--I will speak on;
+My life is of no farther use to me:
+I would have chaffered it before for vengeance;
+Now let it go for failing.
+
+_Tor._ My heart sinks in me while I hear him speak,
+And every slackened fibre drops its hold,
+Like nature letting down the springs of life;
+So much the name of father awes me still--                   [_Aside._
+Send off the crowd; for you, now I have conquered,
+I can hear with honour your demands.
+
+_Lor._ [_To_ ALPH.] Now, sir, who proves the traitor? My conscience is
+true to me; it always whispers right, when I have my regiment to back
+it.                                      [_Exeunt_ LOR. ALPH. PED. &c.
+
+_Tor._ O Leonora, what can love do more?
+I have opposed your ill fate to the utmost;
+Combated heaven and earth to keep you mine;
+And yet at last that tyrant justice! Oh--
+
+_Leo._ 'Tis past, 'tis past, and love is ours no more;
+Yet I complain not of the powers above;
+They made me a miser's feast of happiness,
+And could not furnish out another meal.
+Now, by yon stars, by heaven, and earth, and men,
+By all my foes at once, I swear, my Torrismond,
+That to have had you mine for one short day,
+Has cancelled half my mighty sum of woes!
+Say but you hate me not.
+
+_Tor._ I cannot hate you.
+
+_Raym._ Can you not? say that once more,
+That all the saints may witness it against you.
+
+_Leo._ Cruel Raymond!
+Can he not punish me, but he must hate?
+O, 'tis not justice, but a brutal rage,
+Which hates the offender's person with his crimes!
+I have enough to overwhelm one woman,
+To lose a crown and lover in a day:
+Let pity lend a tear, when rigour strikes.
+
+_Raym._ Then, then you should have thought of tears and pity,
+When virtue, majesty, and hoary age,
+Pleaded for Sancho's life.
+
+_Leo._ My future days shall be one whole contrition:
+A chapel will I build, with large endowment,
+Where every day an hundred aged men
+Shall all hold up their withered hands to heaven,
+To pardon Sancho's death.
+
+_Tor._ See, Raymond, see; she makes a large amends:
+Sancho is dead; no punishment of her
+Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark grave;
+Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
+Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest,
+To see, with joy, her miseries on earth.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven may forgive a crime to penitence,
+For heaven can judge if penitence be true;
+But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples
+Which, like a warning piece, must be shot off,
+To fright the rest from crimes.
+
+_Leo._ Had I but known that Sancho was his father,
+I would have poured a deluge of my blood,
+To save one drop of his.
+
+_Tor._ Mark that, inexorable Raymond, mark!
+'Twas fatal ignorance, that caused his death.
+
+_Raym._ What! if she did not know he was your father,
+She knew he was a man, the best of men;
+Heaven's image double-stamped, as man and king.
+
+_Leo._ He was, he was, even more than you can say;
+But yet--
+
+_Raym._ But yet you barbarously murdered him.
+
+_Leo._ He will not hear me out!
+
+_Tor._ Was ever criminal forbid to plead?
+Curb your ill-mannered zeal.
+
+_Raym._ Sing to him, syren;
+For I shall stop my ears: Now mince the sin,
+And mollify damnation with a phrase;
+Say, you consented not to Sancho's death,
+But barely not forbade it.
+
+_Leo._ Hard-hearted man, I yield my guilty cause;
+But all my guilt was caused by too much love.
+Had I, for jealousy of empire, sought
+Good Sancho's death, Sancho had died before.
+'Twas always in my power to take his life;
+But interest never could my conscience blind,
+Till love had cast a mist before my eyes,
+And made me think his death the only means
+Which could secure my throne to Torrismond.
+
+_Tor._ Never was fatal mischief meant so kind,
+For all she gave has taken all away.
+Malicious powers! is this to be restored?
+'Tis to be worse deposed than Sancho was.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven has restored you, you depose yourself.
+Oh, when young kings begin with scorn of justice,
+They make an omen to their after reign,
+And blot their annals in the foremost page.
+
+_Tor._ No more; lest you be made the first example,
+To show how I can punish.
+
+_Raym._ Once again:
+Let her be made your father's sacrifice,
+And after make me hers.
+
+_Tor._ Condemn a wife!
+That were to atone for parricide with murder.
+
+_Raym._ Then let her be divorced: we'll be content
+With that poor scanty justice; let her part.
+
+_Tor._ Divorce! that's worse than death, 'tis death of love.
+
+_Leo._ The soul and body part not with such pain,
+As I from you; but yet 'tis just, my lord:
+I am the accurst of heaven, the hate of earth,
+Your subjects' detestation, and your ruin;
+And therefore fix this doom upon myself.
+
+_Tor._ Heaven! Can you wish it, to be mine no more?
+
+_Leo._ Yes, I can wish it, as the dearest proof,
+And last, that I can make you of my love.
+To leave you blest, I would be more accurst
+Than death can make me; for death ends our woes,
+And the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene:
+But I would live without you, to be wretched long;
+And hoard up every moment of my life,
+To lengthen out the payment of my tears,
+Till even fierce Raymond, at the last, shall say,--
+Now let her die, for she has grieved enough.
+
+_Tor._ Hear this, hear this, thou tribune of the people!
+Thou zealous, public blood-hound, hear, and melt!
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside._]
+I could cry now; my eyes grow womanish,
+But yet my heart holds out.
+
+_Leo._ Some solitary cloister will I chuse,
+And there with holy virgins live immured:
+Coarse my attire, and short shall be my sleep,
+Broke by the melancholy midnight bell.
+Now, Raymond, now be satisfied at last:
+Fasting and tears, and penitence and prayer,
+Shall do dead Sancho justice every hour.
+
+_Raym._ [_Aside._] By your leave, manhood!          [_Wipes his eyes._
+
+_Tor._ He weeps! now he is vanquished.
+
+_Raym._ No: 'tis a salt rheum, that scalds my eyes.
+
+_Leo._ If he were vanquished, I am still unconquered.
+I'll leave you in the height of all my love,
+Even when my heart is beating out its way,
+And struggles to you most.
+Farewell, a last farewell, my dear, dear lord!
+Remember me!--speak, Raymond, will you let him?
+Shall he remember Leonora's love,
+And shed a parting tear to her misfortunes?
+
+_Raym._ [_Almost crying._] Yes, yes, he shall; pray go.
+
+_Tor._ Now, by my soul, she shall not go: why, Raymond,
+Her every tear is worth a father's life.
+Come to my arms, come, my fair penitent!
+Let us not think what future ills may fall.
+But drink deep draughts of love, and lose them all.
+                                      [_Exeunt_ TOR. _with the Queen._
+
+_Raym._ No matter yet, he has my hook within him.
+Now let him frisk and flounce, and run and roll,
+And think to break his hold; he toils in vain.
+This love, the bait he gorged so greedily,
+Will make him sick, and then I have him sure.
+
+  _Enter_ ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO.
+
+_Alph._ Brother, there's news from Bertran; he desires
+Admittance to the king, and cries aloud,--
+This day shall end our fears of civil war!--
+For his safe conduct he entreats your presence,
+And begs you would be speedy.
+
+_Raym._ Though I loath
+The traitor's sight, I'll go. Attend us here.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ GOMEZ, ELVIRA, DOMINICK, _with Officers, to make the Stage
+  as full as possible._
+
+_Ped._ Why, how now, Gomez? what mak'st thou here, with a whole
+brotherhood of city-bailiffs? Why, thou look'st like Adam in Paradise,
+with his guard of beasts about him.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, and a man had need of them, Don Pedro; for here are the two
+old seducers, a wife and priest,--that's Eve and the serpent,--at my
+elbow.
+
+_Dom._ Take notice how uncharitably he talks of churchmen.
+
+_Gom._ Indeed, you are a charitable belswagger! My wife cried out,--
+"Fire, fire!" and you brought out your church-buckets, and called for
+engines to play against it.
+
+_Alph._ I am sorry you are come hither to accuse your wife; her
+education has been virtuous, her nature mild and easy.
+
+_Gom._ Yes! she's easy, with a vengeance; there's a certain colonel
+has found her so.
+
+_Alph._ She came a spotless virgin to your bed.
+
+_Gom._ And she's a spotless virgin still for me--she's never the worse
+for my wearing, I'll take my oath on't. I have lived with her with all
+the innocence of a man of threescore, like a peaceable bed-fellow as I
+am.
+
+_Elv._ Indeed, sir, I have no reason to complain of him for disturbing
+of my sleep.
+
+_Dom._ A fine commendation you have given yourself; the church did not
+marry you for that.
+
+_Ped._ Come, come, your grievances, your grievances.
+
+_Dom._ Why, noble sir, I'll tell you.
+
+_Gom._ Peace, friar! and let me speak first. I am the plaintiff. Sure
+you think you are in the pulpit, where you preach by hours.
+
+_Dom._ And you edify by minutes.
+
+_Gom._ Where you make doctrines for the people, and uses and
+applications for yourselves.
+
+_Ped._ Gomez, give way to the old gentleman in black.
+
+_Gom._ No! the t'other old gentleman in black shall take me if I do; I
+will speak first!--Nay, I will, friar, for all your _verbum
+sacerdotis_. I'll speak truth in few words, and then you may come
+afterwards and lie by the clock as you use to do.--For, let me tell
+you, gentlemen, he shall lie and forswear himself with any friar in
+all Spain; that's a bold word now.--
+
+_Dom._ Let him alone; let him alone; I shall fetch him back with a
+_circum-bendibus_, I warrant him.
+
+_Alph._ Well, what have you to say against your wife, Gomez?
+
+_Gom._ Why, I say, in the first place, that I and all men are married
+for our sins, and that our wives are a judgment; that a
+batchelor-cobler is a happier man than a prince in wedlock; that we
+are all visited with a household plague, and, _Lord have mercy upon
+us_ should be written on all our doors[2].
+
+_Dom._ Now he reviles marriage, which is one of the seven blessed
+sacraments.
+
+_Gom._ 'Tis liker one of the seven deadly sins: but make your best
+on't, I care not; 'tis but binding a man neck and heels, for all that.
+But, as for my wife, that crocodile of Nilus, she has wickedly and
+traitorously conspired the cuckoldom of me, her anointed sovereign
+lord; and, with the help of the aforesaid friar, whom heaven confound,
+and with the limbs of one colonel Hernando, cuckold-maker of this
+city, devilishly contrived to steal herself away, and under her arm
+feloniously to bear one casket of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels,
+to the value of 30,000 pistoles.--Guilty, or not guilty? how sayest
+thou, culprit?
+
+_Dom._ False and scandalous! Give me the book. I'll take my corporal
+oath point-blank against every particular of this charge.
+
+_Elv._ And so will I.
+
+_Dom._ As I was walking in the streets, telling my beads, and praying
+to myself, according to my usual custom, I heard a foul out-cry before
+Gomez' portal; and his wife, my penitent, making doleful lamentations:
+thereupon, making what haste my limbs would suffer me, that are
+crippled with often kneeling, I saw him spurning and listing her most
+unmercifully; whereupon, using Christian arguments with him to desist,
+he fell violently upon me, without respect to my sacerdotal orders,
+pushed me from him, and turned me about with a finger and a thumb,
+just as a man would set up a top. Mercy! quoth I.--Damme! quoth
+he;--and still continued labouring me, until a good-minded colonel
+came by, whom, as heaven shall save me, I had never seen before.
+
+_Gom._ O Lord! O Lord!
+
+_Dom._ Ay, and O lady! O lady too!--I redouble my oath, I had never
+seen him. Well, this noble colonel, like a true gentleman, was for
+taking the weaker part, you may be sure; whereupon this Gomez flew
+upon him like a dragon, got him down, the devil being strong in him,
+and gave him bastinado upon bastinado, and buffet upon buffet, which
+the poor meek colonel, being prostrate, suffered with a most Christian
+patience.
+
+_Gom._ Who? he meek? I'm sure I quake at the very thought of him; why,
+he's as fierce as Rhodomont; he made assault and battery upon my
+person, beat me into all the colours of the rainbow; and every word
+this abominable priest has uttered is as false as the Alcoran. But if
+you want a thorough-paced liar, that will swear through thick and
+thin, commend me to a friar.
+
+  _Enter_ LORENZO, _who comes behind the Company, and stands at his
+  Fathers back unseen, over-against_ GOMEZ.
+
+_Lor._ How now! What's here to do? my cause a trying, as I live, and
+that before my own father.--Now fourscore take him for an old bawdy
+magistrate, that stands like the picture of madam Justice, with a pair
+of scales in his hand, to weigh lechery by ounces!           [_Aside._
+
+_Alph._ Well--but all this while, who is this colonel Hernando?
+
+_Gom._ He's the first begotten of Beelzebub, with a face as terrible
+as Demogorgon.                 [LORENZO _peeps over_ ALPHONSO'S _Head,
+                                and stares at_ GOMEZ.
+No! I lie, I lie. He's a very proper handsome fellow! well
+proportioned, and clean shaped, with a face like a cherubin.
+
+_Ped._ What, backward and forward, Gomez! dost thou hunt counter?
+
+_Alph._ Had this colonel any former design upon your wife? for, if
+that be proved, you shall have justice.
+
+_Gom._ [_Aside._] Now I dare speak,--let him look as dreadfully as he
+will.--I say, sir, and I will prove it, that he had a lewd design upon
+her body, and attempted to corrupt her honesty.
+                         [LORENZO _lifts up his fist clenched at him._
+I confess my wife was as willing--as himself; and, I believe, 'twas
+she corrupted him; for I have known him formerly a very civil and
+modest person.
+
+_Elv._ You see, sir, he contradicts himself at every word; he's
+plainly mad.
+
+_Alph._ Speak boldly, man! and say what thou wilt stand by: did he
+strike thee?
+
+_Gom._ I will speak boldly; he struck me on the face before my own
+threshold, that the very walls cried shame to him.
+                                            [LORENZO _holds up again._
+'Tis true, I gave him provocation, for the man's as peaceable a
+gentleman as any is in all Spain.
+
+_Dom._ Now the truth comes out, in spite of him.
+
+_Ped._ I believe the friar has bewitched him.
+
+_Alph._ For my part, I see no wrong that has been offered him.
+
+_Gom._ How? no wrong? why, he ravished me, with the help of two
+soldiers, carried me away _vi et armis,_ and would put me into a
+plot against government.                    [LORENZO _holds up again._
+I confess, I never could endure the government, because it was
+tyrannical; but my sides and shoulders are black and blue, as I can
+strip and show the marks of them.                    [LORENZO _again._
+But that might happen, too, by a fall that I got yesterday upon the
+pebbles.                                                 [_All laugh._
+
+_Dom._ Fresh straw, and a dark chamber; a most manifest judgment!
+there never comes better of railing against the church.
+
+_Gom._ Why, what will you have me say? I think you'll make me mad:
+truth has been at my tongue's end this half hour, and I have not power
+to bring it out, for fear of this bloody-minded colonel.
+
+_Alph._ What colonel?
+
+_Gom._ Why, my colonel--I mean my wife's colonel, that appears there
+to me like my _malus genius_, terrifies me.
+
+_Alph._ [_Turning._] Now you are mad indeed, Gomez; this is my son
+Lorenzo.
+
+_Gom._ How? your son Lorenzo! it is impossible.
+
+_Alph._ As true as your wife Elvira is my daughter.
+
+_Lor._ What, have I taken all this pains about a sister?
+
+_Gom._ No, you have taken some about me; I am sure, if you are her
+brother, my sides can show the tokens of our alliance.
+
+_Alph._ to _Lor._ You know I put your sister into a nunnery, with a
+strict command not to see you, for fear you should have wrought upon
+her to have taken the habit, which was never my intention; and
+consequently, I married her without your knowledge, that it might not
+be in your power to prevent it.
+
+_Elv._ You see, brother, I had a natural affection to you.
+
+_Lor._ What a delicious harlot have I lost! Now, pox upon me, for
+being so near a-kin to thee!
+
+_Elv._ However, we are both beholden to friar Dominick; the church is
+an indulgent mother, she never fails to do her part.
+
+_Dom._ Heavens! what will become of me?
+
+_Gom._ Why, you are not like to trouble heaven; those fat guts were
+never made for mounting.
+
+_Lor._ I shall make bold to disburden him of my hundred pistoles, to
+make him the lighter for his journey: indeed, 'tis partly out of
+conscience, that I may not be accessory to his breaking his vow of
+poverty.
+
+_Alph._ I have no secular power to reward the pains you have taken
+with my daughter; but I shall do it by proxy, friar: your bishop's my
+friend, and is too honest to let such as you infect a cloister.
+
+_Gom._ Ay, do, father-in-law, let him be stript of his habit, and
+disordered.--I would fain see him walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit,
+without his holy fur upon his back, that the world may once behold the
+inside of a friar.
+
+_Dom._ Farewell, kind gentlemen; I give you all my blessing before I
+go.--May your sisters, wives, and daughters, be so naturally lewd,
+that they may have no occasion for a devil to tempt, or a friar to
+pimp for them.                   [_Exeunt, with a rabble pushing him._
+
+  _Enter_ TORRISMOND, LEONORA, BERTRAN, RAYMOND, TERESA, &c.
+
+_Tor._ He lives! he lives! my royal father lives!
+Let every one partake the general joy.
+Some angel with a golden trumpet sound,
+King Sancho lives! and let the echoing skies
+From pole to pole resound, king Sancho lives!--
+Bertran, oh! no more my foe, but brother;
+One act like this blots out a thousand crimes.
+
+_Bert._ Bad men, when 'tis their interest, may do good.
+I must confess, I counselled Sancho's murder;
+And urged the queen by specious arguments:
+But, still suspecting that her love was changed,
+I spread abroad the rumour of his death,
+To sound the very soul of her designs.
+The event, you know, was answering to my fears;
+She threw the odium of the fact on me,
+And publicly avowed her love to you.
+
+_Raym._ Heaven guided all, to save the innocent.
+
+_Bert._ I plead no merit, but a bare forgiveness.
+
+_Tor._ Not only that, but favour. Sancho's life,
+Whether by virtue or design preserved,
+Claims all within my power.
+
+_Leo._ My prayers are heard;
+And I have nothing farther to desire,
+But Sancho's leave to authorise our marriage.
+
+_Tor._ Oh! fear not him! pity and he are one;
+So merciful a king did never live;
+Loth to revenge, and easy to forgive.
+  But let the bold conspirator beware,
+  For heaven makes princes its peculiar care.               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Alluding to the common superstition, that the continuance of the
+   favours of fairies depends upon the receiver's secrecy:--"This is
+   fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it close;
+   home, home, the nearest way. We are lucky, boy, and, to be so
+   still, requires nothing but secrecy;" _Winter's Tale._
+
+2. A red cross, with the words, "Lord have mercy upon us," was placed,
+   during the great plague, upon the houses visited by the disease.
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+                     BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S.
+
+
+  There's none, I'm sure, who is a friend to love,
+  But will our Friar's character approve:
+  The ablest spark among you sometimes needs
+  Such pious help, for charitable deeds.
+  Our church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want
+  These ghostly comforts for the falling saint:
+  This gains them their whore-converts, and may be
+  One reason of the growth of popery.
+  So Mahomet's religion came in fashion,
+  By the large leave it gave to fornication.
+  Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well;
+  There is no Dives in the Roman Hell:
+  Gold opens the strait gate, and lets him in;
+  But want of money is a mortal sin.
+  For all besides you may discount to heaven,
+  And drop a bead to keep the tallies even.
+  How are men cozened still with shows of good!
+  The bawd's best mask is the grave friar's hood;
+  Though vice no more a clergyman displeases,
+  Than doctors can be thought to hate diseases.
+  'Tis by your living ill, that they live well,
+  By your debauches, their fat paunches swell.
+  'Tis a mock-war between the priest and devil;
+  When they think fit, they can be very civil.
+  As some, who did French counsels most advance,
+  To blind the world, have railed in print at France,
+  Thus do the clergy at your vices bawl,
+  That with more ease they may engross them all.
+  By damning yours, they do their own maintain;
+  A churchman's godliness is always gain:
+  Hence to their prince they will superior be;
+  And civil treason grows church loyalty.
+  They boast the gift of heaven is in their power;
+  Well may they give the god, they can devour!
+  Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay;
+  For 'tis on carrion that the vermin prey.
+  Nor have they less dominion on our life,
+  They trot the husband, and they pace the wife.
+  Rouse up, you cuckolds of the northern climes,
+  And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes.
+  Unman the Friar, and leave the holy drone
+  To hum in his forsaken hive alone;
+  He'll work no honey, when his sting is gone.
+  Your wives and daughters soon will leave the cells,
+  When they have lost the sound of Aaron's bells.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                       END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.
+
+
+                              Edinburgh,
+
+                    Printed by J. Ballantyne & Co.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of
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