CUPID'S REVENGE. (continued 2)
Reading edition
Enter Citizen and his Boy.
Cit. Sirrah, goe fetch my Fox from the Cutlers: There's money for the scowring: Tell him I stop a groat since the last great Muster: he had in stone Pitch for the bruise: he took with the recoyling of his Gun.
Boy. Yes Sir.
Cit. And do you hear? when you come, Take down my Buckler, and sweep the Cobwebs off: and grind the pick o[n']t, and fetch a Nail or two: and tack on bracers: your Mistriss made a pot-lid ont't, I thank her, at her Ma[yd]s Wedding, and burnt off the Handle.
Boy. I will Sir. [Exit.
Cit. Who's within here, hoe Neighbor, not stirring yet?
2 Cit. Oh, good morrow, good morrow: what news, what news?
1 Cit. It holds, he dies this morning.
2 Cit. Then happy man be his fortune, I am resolv'd.
1 Cit. And so am I, and forty more good fellows, That will not give their heads for the washing, I take it.
2 Cit. 'Sfoot man, who would not hang in such good company, and such a cause? A Fire, a Wife and Children; 'Tis such a jest that men should look behind 'em to the world: and let their honors, their honors neighbor, slip.
1 Cit. I'll give thee a pint of Bastard and a Roll for that bare word.
2 Cit. They say, that we Tailors, are things that lay one another, and our Geese hatch us: I'll make some of 'em feel they are Geese o'th' game then. I'fack, take down my Bill, 'tis ten to one I use it. Take a good heart man, all the low ward is ours, with a wet finger. An[d] lay my cut-fing'red Gantlet ready for me, That, that I us'd to work in, when the Gentl. were Up against us, and beaten out of Town, and almost out o' Debt too: for a plague on 'em they never paid well since: And take heed sirrah, your Mistriss hears not of this Business, she's near her time: yet if she do, I care not, she may long for Rebellion, For she has a devilish spirit. 1 Cit. Come, let's call up the new Iremonger, he's as tough as steel, and has a fine wit in these resurrections; Are you stirring neighbor?
3. Within. Oh, Good morrow neighbors, I'll come to you presently.
2. Goe to, this is his Mothers doing; she's a Polecat.
1. As any is in the world.
2. Then say, I have hit it, and a vengeance on her, let her be what she will.
1. Amen say I, she has brought things to a fine pass with her wisdom: do you mark it?
2. One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke, she gives him pap again they say, and dandles him, and hangs a corral and bells about his neck, and makes him believe his teeth will come agen; which if they did, and I he, I would worry her as never Curr was worried: I would neighbor, till my teeth met I know where, but that's counsel.
Enter [third] Citizen.
3. Good morrow neighbors: hear you the sad news?
1. Yes, would we knew as well how to prevent it.
3. I cannot tell, methinks 'twere no great matter, if men were men: but—
2. You do not twit me with my calling neighbor?
3. No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall; pray be not vext.
2. Pray forward with your counsel: I am what I am, and they that prove me shall find me to their cost: do you mark me neighbor, to their cost I say.
1. Nay, look how soon you are angry!
2. They shall neighbors: yes, I say they shall.
3. I do believe they shall.
1. I know they shall.
2. Whether you do or no I care not two pence, I am no beast, I know mine own strength neighbors; God bless the King, your companies is fair.
1. Nay neighbor, now ye erre, [I] tell you so, and ye [were] twenty Neighbors.
3. You had best goe peach, doe, peach.
2. Peach; I scorn the motion.
3. Doe, and see what follows: I'll spend an hundred pound, and be two I care not: but I'll undoe thee.
2. Peach, Oh disgrace! Peach in thy face, and doe the worst thou canst: I am a true-man, and a free-man: peach!
1. Nay, look, you will spoil all.
2. Peach!
1. Whilst you two brawl together, the Prince will lose his life.
3. Come, give me your hand, I love you well, are you for the action?
2. Yes: but Peach provokes me, 'tis a cold fruit, I feel it cold in my stomach still.
3. No more, I'll give you Cake to digest it.
Enter the Fourth.
4. Shut up my shop, and be ready at a call boys, and one of you run over my old tuck with a few ashes, 'tis grown odious with tosting Cheese: and burn a little Juniper in my Murrin, the Maid made it her Chamber-pot: an hour hence I'll come again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean shirt.
3. The Chandler by th[e] Wharf, and it be thy Will.
2. Gossip, good morrow.
4. Oh good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see ye of one mind you cleave so close together: come 'tis time, I have prepared [a] hundred if they stand.
1. 'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?
3. First, let's to the Tavern, and a pint a piece will make us Dragons.
2. I will have no mercy, come what will of it.
4. If my tuck hold, I'll spit the Guard like Larks with sage between 'em.
2. I have a foolish Bill to reckon with 'em, will make some of their hearts ake, and I'll lay it on: now shall I fight, 'twill do you good to see me.
3. Come, I'll do something for the Town to talk of when I am rotten: pray God there be enough to kill, that's all. [Exeunt.
Enter Dorialus, Nisus, Agenor.
Age. How black the day begins!
Dor. Can you blame it, and look upon such a deed as shall be done this morning?
Nis. Does the Prince suffer to day?
Dor. Within this hour they say.
Agen. Well, they that are most wicked are most safe: 'twill be a strange justice, and a lamentable, gods keep us from the too soon feeling of it.
Doria. I care not if my throat were next: for to live still, and live here, were but to grow [f]at for the Shambles.
Nis. Yet we must do it, and thank 'em too, that our lives may be accepted.
Age. Faith I'll go starve [my] self, or grow diseas'd to shame the hangman; for I am sure he shall be my Herald, and quarter me.
Dor. I, a plague on him, he's too excellent at Arms.
Nisus. Will you go see this sad sight, my Lord Agenor?
Age. I'll make a mourner.
Dor. If I could do him any good, I would goe, The bare sight else will but afflict my spirit, My prayers shall be as near him as your eyes: As you find him setled, remember my love and service to his Grace. Nis. We will weep for you, Sir: farewel. [Exeunt. Dor. Farewell to all our happiness, a long farewel. Thou angry power, whether of Heaven or Hell, Thou laist this sharp correction on our Kingdom For our offences, infinite and mighty! Oh hear me, and at length be pleas'd, be pleas'd With pity to draw back thy vengeance, Too heavy for our weakness; and accept, (Since it is your discretion, heavenly Wisdoms, To have it so) this sacrifice for all, That now is flying to your happiness, Only for you most fit: let all our sins suffer in him. [A shout within. Gods, what's the matter? I hope 'tis joy; How now my Lords?
Enter Agenor and Nisus.
Nis. I'll tell you with that little breath I have; More joy than you dare think, The Prince is safe from danger. Dor. How! Age. 'Tis true, and thus it was; his hour was come To lose his life, he ready for the stroke, Nobly, and full of Saint-like patience, Went with his Guard: which when the people saw, Compassion first went out, mingled with tears, That bred desires, and whispers to each other, To do some worthy kindness for the Prince, And e'r they understood well how to do, Fury stept in, and taught them what to do, Thrusting on every hand to rescue him, As a white innocent: then flew the roar Through all the streets, of Save him, save him, save him: And as they cry'd, they did; for catching up Such sudden weapons as their madness shew them In short, they beat the Guard, and took him from 'em, And now march with him like a royal Army. Dor. Heaven, heaven I thank thee, What a slave was I to have my hand so far from This brave rescue, 't 'ad been a thing to brag on When I was old. Shall we run for a wager to the Next Temple, and give thanks? Nis. As fast as wishes.
Enter Leucippus and Ismenus: the people within stops.
Leu. Good friends goe home again, there's not a man shall goe with me.
Isme. Will you not take revenge? I'll call them on.
Leuc. All that love me, depart: I thank you, and will serve you for your loves: But I will thank you more to suffer me To govern 'em: once more, I do beg ye, For my sake to your houses.
All within. Gods preserve you.
Ism. And what house will you goe to?
Leu. Ismenus, I will take the wariest courses that I can think of to defend my self, but not offend.
Isme. You may kill your Mother, and never offend your Father, an honest man.
Leu. Thou know'st I can scape now, that's all I look for: I'll leave.
Isme. Timantus, a pox take him, would I had him here, I would kill him at his own weapon single, sithes we have built enough on him: plague on't, I'm out of all patience: discharge such an Army as this, that would have followed you without paying, Oh gods!
Leu. To what end should I keep 'em? I am free.
Isme. Yes, free o'th' Traitors, for you are proclaim'd one.
Leu. Should I therefore make my self one?
Isme. This is one of your moral Philosophy, is it? Heaven bless me from subtilties to undoe my self with: But I know, if reason her self were here, She would not part with her own safety. Leu. Well, pardon Ismenus, for I know My courses are most just; nor will I stain 'em With one bad action; for thy self thou know'st, That though I may command thee, I shall be A ready servant to thee if thou needst: and so I'll take my leave.
Isme. Of whom?
Leu. Of thee.
Isme. Heart, you shall take no leave of me.
Leu. Shall I not?
Isme. No, by the gods shall you not: nay, if you have no more wit but to goe absolutely alone, I'll be in a little.
Leu. Nay, prethee good Ismenus part with me.
Isme. I wonnot i'faith, never move it any more; for by this good light I wonnot.
Leu. This is an ill time to be thus unruly: Ismenus. You must leave me.
Isme. Yes, if you can beat me away: else the gods refuse me if I will leave you till I see more reason; you sha'nt undoe your self.
Leu. But why wilt not leave me?
Isme. Why I'll tell you: Because when you are gone, then—life, if I have not forgot my reason—hell take me: you put me out of patience so: Oh! marry when you are gone, then will your Mother (a pox confound her) she never comes in my head, but she spoils my memory too: there are a hundred reasons.
Leu. But shew me one.
Isme. Shew you; what a stir here is; why I will shew you: Do you think; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come. 'Tis in vain: but I am sure. Devils take 'em; what do I meddle with 'em? You know your self. Soul, I think I am: is there any man i'th' world? as if you knew not this already better than I. Pish, pish, I'll give no reason.
Leu. But I will tell thee one, why thou shouldst stay: I have not one friend in the Court but thou, On whom I may be bold to trust to send me Any intelligence: and if thou lov'st me Thou wilt do this, thou needst not fear to stay, For there are new-come Proclamations out, Where all are pardon'd but my self.
Isme. 'Tis true, and in the same Proclamation, your fine Sister Urania, whom you us'd so kindly, is proclaim'd Heir apparent to the Crown.
Leu. What though, thou mayst stay at home without danger.
Isme. Danger, hang danger, what tell you me of danger?
Leu. Why if thou wilt not do't, I think thou dar'st not.
Isme. I dare not: if you speak it in earnest, you are a Boy.
Leu. Well Sir, if you dare, let me see you do't.
Isme. Why so you shall, I will stay.
Leu. Why God-a-mercy.
Isme. You know I love you but too well.
Leu. Now take these few directions: farewel, send to me by the wariest ways thou canst: I have a soul tells me we shall meet often. The gods protect thee.
Isme. Pox o' my self for an ass, I'm crying now, God be with you, if I never see you again: why then pray get you gone, for grief and anger wonnot let me know what I say, I'll to the Court as fast as I can, and see the new Heir apparant. [Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Urania and her Woman.
Uran. What hast thou found him? Wo. Madam, he is coming in. Uran. Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er he is: And I beseech you keep me fro the bed Of any naughty Tyrant, whom my Mother Would ha me have to wrong him.
Enter Ismenus.
Isme. What would her new Grace have with me? Ura. Leave us a while. My Lord Ismenus, [Exit[Wom.] I pray for the love of Heaven and God, That you would tell me one thing, which I know You can do weell.
Isme. Where's her fain Grace?
Ura. You know me well inough, but that you mock, I am she my sen.
Isme. God bless him that shall be thy husband, if thou wear'st [breeches] thus soon, thou'lt be as impudent as thy Mother.
Ura. But will you tell me this one thing?
Ism. What is't? if it be no great matter whether I do or no, perhaps I will.
Ura. Yes faith, 'tis matter.
Ism. And what is't?
Ura. I pray you let me know whaire the Prince my Brother is.
Ism. I'faith you shan be hang'd first, is your Mother so foolish to think your good Grace can sift it out of me?
Ura. If you have any mercy left i' you to a poor wench, tell me.
Ism. Why wouldst [not thou] have thy brains beat out for this, to follow thy Mothers steps so young?
Ura. But believe me, she knows none of this.
Ism. Believe you? why do you think I never had wits? or that I am run out of them? how should it belong to you to know, if I could tell?
Ura. Why I will tell you, and if I speak false Let the devil ha me: yonder's a bad man, Come from a Tyrant to my Mother, and what name They ha' for him, good faith I cannot tell. Isme. An Ambassador. Ura. That's it: but he would carry me away, And have me marry his Master; and I'll day E'r I will ha' him. Ism. But what's this to knowing where the Prince is? Ura. Yes: for you know all my Mother does: Agen the Prince is but to ma me great. Ism. Pray, I know that too well, what ten? Ura. Why I [w]ould goe to the good Marquis my Brother, and put my self into his hands, that so He may preserve himself.
Ism. Oh that thou hadst no seed of thy Mother in thee, and couldst mean this now.
Ura. Why feth I do, wou'd I might ne'er stir more if I do not.
Ism. I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damn'd else: hang me if I do not half believe thee.
Ura. By my troth you may.
Ism. By my troth I doe: I know I'm an Ass for't, But I cannot help it.
Ura. And won you tell me then?
Ism. Yes faith will I, or any thing else i'th' world: for I think thou art as good a creature as ever was born.
Ura. But ail goe i' this ladst [reparrell]: But you mun help me to Silver.
Ism. Help thee? why the pox take him that will not help thee to any thing i'th' world, I'll help thee to Money, and I'll do't presently too, and yet soul, If you should play the scurvy Harlotry little pocky baggage now and cosin me, what then?
Ura. Why, an I do, wou'd I might ne'r see day agen.
Ism. Nay, by this light, I do not think thou wilt: I'll presently provide thee Money and a Letter. [Exit Ism.
Ura. I, but I'll ne'er deliver it. When I have found my Brother, I will beg To serve him; but he shall never know who I am: For he must hate me then for my bad mother: I'll say I am a Countrey Lad that want a service, And have straid on him by chance, lest he discover me; I know I must not live long, but that taime I ha' to spend, shall be in serving him. And though my Mother seek to take his life away, In ai day my brother shall be taught That I was ever good, though she were naught. [Exit.
Enter Bacha and Timantus: Bacha reading a Letter.
Bac. Run away, the Devil be her guide.
Tim. Faith she's gone: there's a Letter, I found it in her pocket, would I were with her, she's a handsome Lady, a plague upon my bashfulness, I had bobb'd her long ago else.
Bach. What a base whore is this, that after all My ways for her advancement, should so poorly Make virtue her undoer, and choose this time, The King being deadly sick, and I intending A present marriage with some forreign Prince, To strengthen and secure my self. She writes here Like a wise Gentlewoman, She will not stay: And the example of her dear brother, makes her Fear her self, to whom she means to flie.
Tim. Why, who can help it?
Bac. Now Poverty and Lechery, which is thy end, rot thee, where e'er thou goest with all thy goodness.
Timan. Berlady they'll bruze her: and she were of brass. I am sure they'll break stone Walls: I have had experience of them both, and they have made me desperate: but there's a messenger, Madam, come from the Prince with a Letter to Ismenus, who by him returns an answer.
Bac. This comes as pat as wishes: thou shalt presently away Timantus.
Tim. Whither Madam?
Ba. To the Prince, and take the Messenger for guide.
Tim. What shall I do there? I have done too much mischief to be believ'd again; or indeed, to scape with my head on my back, if I be once known.
Bac. Thou art a weak shallow fool: get thee a disguise, and withal, when thou com'st before him, have a Letter fain'd to deliver him: and then, as thou hast ever hope of goodness by me, or after me, strike one home stroke that shall not need another: dar'st thou speak, dar'st thou? if thou fall'st off, go be a Rogue again, and lie and pander to procure thy meat: dar'st thou speak to me?
Tim. Sure I shall never walk when I am dead: I have no spirit, Madam, I'll be drunk but I'll do it, that's all my refuge. [Exit.
Bac. Away, no more, then I'll raise an Army whilst the King yet lives, if all the means and power I have can do it, I cannot tell.
Enter Ismenus and three Lords.
Ism. Are you inventing still? we'll ease your studies.
Bac. Why how now saucy Lords?
Ism. Nay, I'll shake ye; yes devil, I will shake ye.
Bac. Do not you know me Lords?
Nis. Yes deadly sin we know ye, would we did not.
Ism. Doe you hear whore, a plague a God upon thee, the Duke is dead.
Bach. Dead!
Ism. I, wild-fire and brimstone take thee: good man he is dead, and past those miseries which thou, salt infection-like; like a disease flungst upon his head. Dost thou hear, and 'twere not more respect [to] Womanhood in general than thee, because I had a Mother, who I will not say she was good, she liv'd so near thy time, I would have thee in vengeance of this man, whose peace is made in heaven by this time, tied to a post; and dried i' th' sun, and after carried about, and shewn at Fairs for money, with a long story of the devil thy father, that taught thee to be whorish, envious, bloudy.
Bac. Ha, ha, ha.
Ism. You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee, and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her along, we'll to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall wait his censure; and if he spare the[e] she-Goat, may he lie with thee again: and beside, maist thou lay upon him some nasty foul disease, that hate still follows, and his end a dry ditch. Lead you corrupted whore, or I'll draw a goad shall make you skip: away to the Prince.
Bac. [Ha] ha, ha, I hope yet I shall come too late to find him.
Cornets. Cupid from above.
Enter Leucippus, Urania: Leucippus with a bloody Handkerchief.
Leu. Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me? What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art. Ura. In good feth I shall be weel and rich enough If you will love me, and not put me from you. Leu. Why dost thou choose out me Boy to undo thee? Alas, for pitty take another Master, That may be able to deserve thy love In breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowest not, More than my misery: and therefore canst not Look for rewards at my hands: would I were able My pretty knave, to doe thee any kindness: truly Good Boy, I would upon my faith, thy harmless Innocence moves me at heart: wilt thou goe Save thy self; why dost thou weep? Alas, I do not chide thee.
Ura. I cannot tell if I go from you; Sir, I shall ne'er dawn day more: Pray if you can, I will be true to you: Let me wait on you: if I were a man, I would fight for you: Sure you have some ill-willers, I would slay [u]m.
Leu. Such harmless souls are ever Prophets: well, I take thy wish, thou shalt be with me still: But prethee eat, [then] my good boy: Thou wilt die my child if thou fast one day more. This four daies thou hast tasted nothing: Goe into the Cave and eat: thou shalt find something for thee, to bring thy bloud again, and thy fair colour.
Ura. I cannot eat, God thank you. But I'll eat to morrow.
Leu. Thou't be dead by that time.
Ura. I should be well then, for you will not love me.
Leu. Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that e'er I felt yet: why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?
Ura. You have fair eyes Master.
Leu. Sure the boy dotes: why dost thou sigh my child?
Ura. To think that such a fine man should live, and no gay Lady love him.
Leu. Thou wilt love me?
Ura. Yes sure till I die, and when I am in heaven, I'll e'en wish for you.
Leu. And I'll come to thee boy. This is a Love I never yet heard tell of: come, thou art sleepy child; goe in, and I'll sit with thee: heaven what portends this?
Ura. You are sad, but I am not sleepy, would I could do ought to make you merry: shall I sing?
Leu. If thou wilt good Boy. Alas my boy, that thou shouldst comfort me, and art far worse than I!
Enter Timantus with a Letter disguised.
Ura. Law Master, there's one, look to your [sen.] Leu. What art thou that in this dismal place, Which nothing could find out but misery, Thus boldly stepst? Comfort was never here, Here is no food, nor beds, nor any house Built by a better Architect than beasts; And e'r you get dwelling from one of them, You must fight for it: if you conquer him, He is your meat: if not, you must be his. Tim. I come to you (for if I not mistake, you are the Prince) from that most Noble Lord Ismenus with a Letter. Ura. Alas, I fear I shall be discover'd now. Leu. Now I feel my self the poorest of all mortal things. Where is he that receives such courtesies But he has means to shew his gratefulness Some way or other? I have none at all: I know not how to speak so much as well Of thee, but to these trees.
[Leucippus opening the Letter, the whilst Timantus runs at him, and Urania steps before.
Tim. His Letters speak him, Sir—
Ura. Gods keep me but from knowing him till I die: aye me, sure I cannot live a day, Oh thou foul Traitor: How do you Master?
Leu. How dost thou my child? alas, look on [t]his, it may make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou hast drawn from thence.
Ura. 'Tis nothing Sir, and you be well.
Tim. Oh pardon me, know you me now, Sir?
Leu. How couldst thou find me out?
Tima. We intercepted a Letter from Ismenus, and the bearer directed me.
Leu. Stand up Timantus boldly, The world conceives that thou art guilty Of divers treasons to the State and me: But oh far be it from the innocence Of a just man, to give a Traitor death Without a tryal: here the Countrey is not To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore A nobler trial than thou dost deserve, Rather than none at all, here I accuse thee Before the face of Heaven, to be a Traitor Both to the Duke my Father and to me, and the Whole Land: speak, is it so or no?
Tima. 'Tis true Sir, pardon me.
Leu. Take heed Timantus how thou dost cast away thy self, I must proceed to execution hastily if thou confess it: speak once againe, is it so or no?
Tima. I am not guilty, Sir.
[Fight here: the Prince gets his sword, and gives it him.
Leu. Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is.
Tima. I will not use any violence against your Highness.
Leu. At thy peril then, for this must be thy trial: and from henceforth look to thy self.
[Timantus draws his sword, and runs at him when he turns aside.
Tim. I do beseech you, Sir, let me not fight. Leu. Up, up again Timantus, There is no way but this, believe me. Now if—Fie, fie Timantus, is there no Usage can recover thee from baseness? wert thou Longer to converse with men, I would have chid Thee for this: be all thy faults forgiven.
Tim. Oh spare me Sir, I am not fit for death.
Leu. I think th[o]u art not, yet trust me, fitter than for life: Yet tell me e'r thy breath be gone, know'st of any other plots against me?
Tim. Of none.
Leu. What course wouldst thou have taken, when thou hadst kill'd me?
Tim. I would have ta'en your Page, and married her.
Leu. What Page?
Tim. Your boy there. [Dies.
[Urania sounds.
Leu. Is he fall'n mad in death, what does he mean? Some good god help me at the worst: how dost thou? Let not thy misery vex me, thou shalt have What thy poor heart can wish: I am a Prince, And I will keep thee in the gayest cloaths, And the finest things, that ever pretty boy had given him. Ura. I know you well enough, Feth I am dying, and now you know all too. Leu. But stir up thy self; look what a Jewel here is, See how it glisters: what a pretty shew Will this make in thy little ear? ha, speak, Eat but a bit, and take it.
Ura. Do you not know me?
Leu. I prethee mind thy health: why that's well said my good boy, smile still.
Ura. I shall smile till death an I see you, I am Urania, your Sister-in-law.
Leu. How?
Ura. I am Urania.
Leu. Dulness did seize me, now I know thee well; Alas, why cam'st thou hither?
Ura. Feth for love, I would not let you know till I was dying; for you could not love me, my Mother was so naught.
Leu. I will love thee, or any thing: what? wilt Thou leave me as soon as I know thee? Speak one word to me: alas she's past it, She will ne'er speak more. What noise is that? it is no matter who
Enter Ismenus with the Lords.
Comes on me now. What worse than mad are you That seek out sorrows? if you love delights Begone from hence.
Isme. Sir, for you we come, as Soldiers to revenge the wrongs you have suffer'd under this naughty creature: what shall be done with her? say, I am ready.
Leu. Leave her to Heaven, brave Cosin, they shall tell her how she has sinn'd against 'em, my hand shall never be stain'd with such base bloud: live wicked Mother: that reverend Title be your pardon, for I will use no extremity against you, but leave you to Heaven.
Bacha. Hell take you all, or if there be a place Of torment that exceeds that, get you thither: And till the devils have you, may your lives Be one continued plague, and such a one, That knows no friends nor ending. May all ages that shall succeed, curse you as I do: And if it be possible, I ask it heaven, That your base issues may be ever Monsters, That must for shame of nature and succession, Be drown'd like dogs. Would I had breath to [poyson] you. Leu. Would you had love within you, and such grief As might become a Mother: look you there, Know you that face? that was Urania: These are the fruits of those unhappy Mothers, That labour with such horrid births as you do: If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent, Your wickedness has kill'd her: I'll weep for you. Isme. Monstrous woman, Mars would weep at this, and yet she cannot. Leu. Here lies your Minion too, slain by my hand, I will not say you are the cause: yet certain, I know you were [to] blame, the gods forgive you. Isme. See, she stands as if she were inventing Some new destruction for the world.
Leu. Ismenus, thou art welcome yet to my sad company.
Isme. I come to make you somewhat sadder, Sir.
Leu. You cannot, I am at the height already.
Isme. Your Fathers dead.
Leu. I thought so, Heaven be with him: Oh woman, woman, weep now or never, thou hast made more sorrows than we have eyes to utter.
Bac. Now let Heaven fall, I am at the worst of evils, a thing so miserably wretched, that every thing, the last of humane comforts hath left me: I will not be so base and cold, to live and wait the mercies of these men I hate, no, 'tis just I die, since fortune hath left me, my step discent attends me: hand, strike thou home, I have soul enough to guide; and let all know, as I stood a Queen, the same I'll fall, and one with me. [She stabs the Prince with a knife.
Leu. Ho.
Isme. How do you, Sir?
Leu. Nearer my health, than I think any here, my tongue begins to faulter: what is man? or who would be one, when he sees a poor weak woman can in an instant make him none.
Dor. She is dead already.
Isme. Let her be damn'd already as she is: post all for Surgeons.
Leu. Let not a man stirr, for I am but dead: I have some few words which I would have you hear, And am afraid I shall want breath to speak 'em: First to you my Lords, you know Ismenus is Undoubtedly Heir of Lycia, I do beseech you all, When I am dead, to shew your duties to him. Lords. We vow to do't. Leu. I thank you. Next to you Cosin Ismenus, that shall be the Duke, I pray you let the broken Image of Cupid Be re-edified, I know all this is done by him.
Isme. It shall be so.
Leu. Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-law may have a burial according to— [Dies.
Isme. To what, Sir?
Dor. There is a full point.
Isme. I will interpret for him; she shall have burial according to her own deserts, with dogs.
Dor. I would your Majesty would haste for setling of the people.
Isme. I am ready.
Age. Goe, and let the Trumpets sound Some mournful thing, whilst we convey the body Of this unhappy Prince unto the Court, And of that virtuous Virgin to a Grave: But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie, Accurst, whilst one man has a memory. [Exeunt.
Cupid's Speech.
The time now of my Revenge draws near. Nor shall it lessen as I am a god, With all the cries and prayers that have been; And those that be to come, though they be infinite, In need and number.