[SCENE 3.]

Enter Valentia, Montano, and Vandermas.

Val. Have you the instruments I gave in charge.

Vand. Wee have.

Val. And resolution fitting for the purpose?

Mon. All things are ready, with our faithfull hearts.

Val. And she that undertakes so great an act As I intend, had need of faithfull hearts This is the prison, and the jaylor comes In happy time: where's trayterous Fredericke?

Enter Jaylor.

Jaylor. What is your highnesse pleasure with the Prince?

Val. Looke there, if you can reade.

Jai. O heavenly God, What doe I read? a warrant for his death?

Valen. Resigne your keyes, goe weepe a dirge or twaine But make no clamour with your lamentation.

Jay. I dare not prophesie what my soule feares, Yet Ile lament his tragedie in teares. [Exit.

Valen. Oft have I seene a Nobleman arraign'd By mighty Lords, the pillars of the land, Some of which number, his inclined friends, Have wept, yet past the verdict of his death: So fares it with the Prince. Were I his jaylor, And so affected unto Fredericks life, The fearfull'st tyrant nor the cruell'st plagues That ever lighted on tormented soules, Should make me yeeld my prisoner to their hands.

Mon. Madam, he knowes his duty, and performes it.

Valen. Setting aside all dutie, I would die Ere like a woman weepe a tragedie; Tis basenesse, cowardize. Dutie! O slave, Had I a friend, I'de dye in my friends grave. But it sorts well for us; Hindes will be Hindes, And the Ambitious tread upon such mindes. Waite, whilest I call you, in the jaylors house.

Mon. We will. [Exeunt Van. and Mon.

Valen. My Lord, Prince Fredericke.

Enter Fred.

Fred. Wofull Fredericke Were a beseeming Epitaph for me, The other tastes of too much soveraigntie. What? is it you! the glory of the stewes!

Valen. Thy mother, Fredericke.

Fred. I detest that name, My mother was a Dutches of true fame; And now I thinke upon her, when she died I was ordain'd to be indignified. She never did incense my Princely Father To the destruction of his loving sonne: Oh she was vertuous, trulie naturall, But this step-divell doth promise our fall.

Val. Why doest thou raile on me? I am come To set thee free from all imprisonment.

Fred. By what true supersedeas but by death? If it be so, come, strike me to the earth; Thou needest no other weapon but thine eye; Tis full of poyson, fixe it, and Ile die.

Val. Uncharitable youth, I am no serpent venom'd, No basiliske to kill thee with my sight.

Fre. Then thou speak'st death, I am sorry I mistooke; They both are fatall, theres but little choice; The first inthral'd my father, the last me, No deadlier swords ever us'd enemie; My lot's the best that I dye with the sound, But he lives dying in a death profound. I grow too bitter, being so neere my end; Speake quickly, boldly, what your thoughts intend.

Valen. Behold this warrant, you can reade it well.

Fred. But you the interpretation best can tell: Speake, beautious ruine, twere great injurie That he should reade the sentence that must dye.

Val. Then know in briefe 'tis your fathers pleasure.

Fred. His pleasure, what?

Val. That you must loose your life.

Fred. Fatall is his pleasure, 'tis to please his wife. I prethee, tell me, didst thou ever know A Father pleased his sonne to murder so? For what is't else but murder at the best? The guilt whereof will gnawe him in his brest, Torment him living, and when I am dead Curse thee by whose plot I was murdered? I have seene the like example, but, O base! Why doe I talke with one of your disgrace? Where are the officers? I have liv'd too long, When he that gave me life does me this wrong.

Val. That is thy fathers hand, thou dost not doubt? And if thou shouldst, I have witnesse to approve it. Yet tho it be his hand, grant to my request, Love me and live.

Fred. To live so, I detest. Love thee!

Valen. I, love me, gentle Fredericke, love me.

Fred. Incestuous strumpet, cease.

Val. Oh thou dealest ill, To render so much spleene for my good will.

Fred. Torment farre worse then death.

Valen. Ile follow thee: Deare Fredericke, like thy face, be thy words faire.

Fre. This monstrous dealing doubles my deaths care.

Valen. What shall I call thee to allay this ire?

Fred. Why, call me son and blush at thy desire.

Valen. I never brought thee foorth.

Fred. Art thou not wife Unto my father?

Val. Thinke upon thy life: It lyes like mine, onely in gentle breath; Or that thy father's dead, and after death 'Tis in my choice to marry whom I will.

Fred. Any but me.

Valen. O doe not thinke so ill, Rather thinke, thou art a stranger, not his sonne; Then 'tis no incest tho the Act be done. Nature unto her selfe is too unkind To buzze such scruples into Fredericks minde; Twas a device of man to avoid selfe love, Else every pleasure in one stocke should move, Beautie in grace part never from the kinne.

Fred. If thou persever as thou hast begun, I shall forget I am my fathers sonne, I shall forget thou art my fathers wife, And where 'tis I must die abridge thy life.

Valen. Why did'st not kill me, being thy prisoner then, But friendly didst deliver me again[212] Unto thy father, wert not thou didst love me?

Fred. Beyond all sufferance, monster, thou dost move me. 'Twas for my fathers sake, not for thine owne; That, to thy lifes losse, thou hadst throughly knowne But that relenting nature playde her part, To save thy blood whose losse had slaine his heart: And it repents me not hee doth survive, But that his fortune was so ill to wive. Come, kill, for for that you came; shun delayes Lest living Ile tell this to thy dispraise, Make him to hate thee, as he hath just cause, And like a strumpet turne thee to the lawes.

Valen. Good Fredericke.

Fred. Tis resolv'd on, I haue said.

Valen. Then fatall Ministers I craue your ayde.

Enter Van. and Mont.

Come, Vandermas, Montano, wheres your corde? Quicklie dispatch, strangle this hatefull Lord. Or stay: because I love him, he shall chuse The easiest of three deaths that we may use, The halter, poyson, or bloodshedding blade.

Fred. Any of them.

Valen. This Aconite's well made, a cup of poyson Stuft with despatching simples, give him this, And he shall quickly leave all earthly blisse. There, take it, Fredericke, our last guift of grace; Since thou must die, Ile have thee die apace.

Fred. O happie meanes, given by a trecherous hand, To be my true guide to the heavenly land! Death steales upon me like a silken sleepe; Through every vaine doe leaden rivers flowe,[213] The gentlest poyson that I ever knewe, To work so coldly, yet to be so true. Like to an infant patiently I goe, Out of this vaine world, from all worldly woe; Thankes to the meanes, tho they deserve no thankes, My soule beginnes t'ore-flow these fleshly bankes. My death I pardon unto her and you, My sinnes God pardon; so vaine world adiew. [He falls asleep.

Valen. Ha, ha, ha.

Mon. Hee's dead, why does your highnesse laugh?

Valen. Why, Lord Montano, that I love to see, He that hath sav'd my life, to die for me. But theres a riddle in this Princes death, And Ile explaine it on this floore of earth. Come, to his sisters execution goe, We have varietie of joyes in woe. I am sure, you have heard his Excellence did sweare Both of their heads should grace a Kingly beare. Upon a mourning hearse let him be layd; He shalbe intombed with a wived maid.

[Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.