THE TRAGEDY OF Thierry and Theodoret.

BRUNHALT. Taxe me with these hot tainters? Theodoret. You are too sudain; I doe but gently tell you what becomes you And what may bend your honor! how these courses Of loose and lazie pleasures; not suspected But done and known, your mind that grants no limit And all your Actions follows, which loose people That see but through a mist of circumstance Dare term ambitious; all your wayes hide sores Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers. Your instruments like these may call the world And with a fearfull clamor, to examine Why, and to what we govern. From example If not for vertues sake ye may be honest: There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary Because you are your self, and by your self A self-peece from the touch of power and Justice, You should command your self, you may imagine Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women The name of greatness glorifies your actions And strong power like a pent-house, promise[s] To shade you from opinion; Take heed mother, And let us all take heed these most abuse us The sins we doe, people behold through opticks, Which shews them ten times more than common vices, And often multiplys them: Then what justice Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders When we are theeves our selves? Brun. This is, Martell, Studied and pen'd unto you, whose base person I charge you by the love you owe a mother And as you hope for blessings from her prayers, Neither to give belief to, nor allowance, Next I tell you Sir, you from whom obedience Is so far fled, that you dare taxe a mother; Nay further, brand her honor with your slanders, And break into the treasures of her credit, Your easiness is abused, your faith fraited With lyes, malitious lyes, your merchant mischief, He that never knew more trade then Tales, and tumbling Suspitious into honest hearts; What you or he, Or all the world dare lay upon my worth, This for your poor opinions: I am shee, And so will bear my self, whose truth and whiteness Shall ever stand as far from these detections As you from dutie, get you better servants People of honest actions without ends, And whip these knaves away, they eat your favours, And turn 'em unto poysons: my known credit Whom all the Courts o' this side Nile have envied, And happy she could site me, brought in question Now in my hours of age and reverence, When rather superstition should be rendred And by a Rush that one days warmth Hath shot up to this swelling; Give me justice, Which is his life.

For I doe now begin to feel my self Turning into a halter, and the ladder Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too. Theod. These truths are no mans tales, but all mens troubles, They are, though your strange greatness would out-stare u'm: Witness the daily Libels, almost Ballads In every place, almost in every Province, Are made upon your lust, Tavern discourses, Crowds cram'd with whispers; Nay, the holy Temples, Are not without your curses: Now you would blush, But your black tainted blood dare not appear For fear I should fright that too. Brun. O ye gods! Theod. Do not abuse their names: They see your actions And your conceal'd sins, though you work like Moles, Lies level to their justice. Brun. Art thou a Son? Theod. The more my shame is of so bad a mother, And more your wretchedness you let me be so; But woma[n], for a mothers name hath left me Since you have left your honor; Mend these ruins, And build again that broken fame, and fairly; Your most intemperate fires have burnt, and quickly Within these ten days take a Monasterie, A most strickt house; a house where none may whisper, Where no more light is known but what may make ye Believe there is a day where no hope dwells, Nor comfort but in tears. Brun. O miserie! Theod. And there to cold repentance, and starv'd penance Tye your succeeding days; Or curse me heaven If all your guilded knaves, brokers, and bedders, Even he you built from nothing, strong Protal[dy]e, Be not made ambling Geldings; All your maids, If that name doe not shame 'em, fed with spunges To suck away their ranckness; And your self Onely to empty Pictures and dead Arras Offer your old desires. Brun. I will not curse you, Nor lay a prophesie upon your pride, Though heaven might grant me both: unthankfull, no, I nourish'd ye, 'twas I, poor I groan'd for you, 'Twas I felt what you suffer'd, I lamented When sickness or sad hours held back your swe[e]tness; 'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps, I watchd your wakings: My daily cares and fears, that rid, plaid, walk'd, Discours'd, discover'd, fed and fashion'd you To what you are, and I am thus rewarded. Theod. But that I know these tears I could dote on 'em, And kneell to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em Into an Armlet, ever to be honor'd; But woman they are dangerous drops, deceitfull, Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature. Brun. In my last hours despis'd. Theod. That Text should tell How ugly it becomes you to err thus; Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke maintains ye; And those your favour and your bounty suffers Lye not with you, they do but lay lust on you And then imbrace you as they caught a palsie; Your power they may love, and like spanish Jennetts Commit with such a gust. Bawd. I would take whipping, And pay a fine now. [Exit Bawdber. Theod. But were ye once disgraced, Or fallen in wealth, like leaves they would flie from you, And become browse for every beast; You will'd me To stock my self with better friends, and servants, With what face dare you see me, or any mankind, That keep a race of such unheard of relicks, Bawds, Leachers, Letches, female fornications, And children in their rudiments to vices, Old men to shew examples: and lest Art Should loose her self in act, to call back custome, Leave these, and live like Niobe. I told you how And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance Of what you were. I 'm your Son! performe it. Brun. Am I a woman, and no more power in me, To tye this Tyger up, a soul to no end, Have I got shame and lost my will? Brunhalt From this accursed hour, forget thou bor'st him, Or any part of thy blood gave him living, Let him be to thee an Antipathy, A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns backward: Throw all the mischiefs on him that thy self, Or woman worse than thou art, have invented, And kill him drunk, or doubtfull.

Bawd. Such a sweat, I never was in yet, clipt of my minstrels, My toyes to prick up wenches withall; Uphold me, It runs like snow-balls through me. Brun. Now my varlets, My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions. Baw. Lord how she looks! Brun. Hell take ye all. Baw. We shall be gelt. Brun. Your Mistress, Your old and honor'd Mistress, you tyr'd curtals Suffers for your base sins; I must be cloyster'd, Mew'd up to make me virtuous who can help this? Now you stand still like Statues; Come Protaldye, One kiss before I perish, kiss me strongly, Another, and a third. Lecure. I fear not gelding As long [as] she holds this way. Brun. The young courser That unli[c]kt lumpe of mine, will win thy Mistriss; Must I be chast Protaldye? Pro. Thus and thus Lady. Brun. It shall be so, let him seek fools for Vestalls, Here is my Cloyster. Lecure. But what safety Madam Find you in staying here? Brun. Thou hast hit my meaning, I will to Thierry Son of my blessings, And there complain me, tell my tale so subtilly, That the cold stones shall sweat; And Statues mourn, And thou shall weep Protaldye in my witness, And there forswear. Bawd. Yes, any thing but gelding, I'm not yet in quiet Noble Lady, Let it be done to night, for without doubt To morrow we are capons. Brun. Sleep shall not seize me, Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses, E're I forsake this desart, I live honest; He may as well bid dead men walk, I humbled, Or bent below my power; let night-dogs tear me, And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly, Ere I forsake my sphear. Lecure. This place you will. Brun. What's that to you, or any, Ye doss, you powder'd pigsbones, rubarbe glister: Must you know my designs? a colledge on you, The proverbe makes but fools. Prota. But Noble Lady. Brun. You a sawcie ass too, off I will not, If you but anger me, till a sow-gelder Have cut you all like colts, hold me and kiss me, For I'm too much troubled; Make up my treasure, And get me horses private, come about it. [Exeunt.

Theod. Though I assure my self (Martell) your counsell Had no end but allegeance and my honor: Yet [I am] jealous, I have pass'd the bounds Of a sons duty; For suppose her worse Than you report, not by bare circumstance, But evident proof confirm'd has given her out: Yet since all weakness[es] in a kingdome, are No more to be severely punished than The faults of Kings are by the Thunderer As oft as they offend, to be reveng'd: If not for piety, yet for policie, Since some are of necessitie to be spar'd, I might, and now I wish I had not look'd With such strict eyes into her follies. Mart. Sir, a duty well discharg'd is never follow'd By sad repentance, nor did your Highness ever Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, better Than in your late reproofs not of her, but Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof. The most remarkeable point in which Kings differ From private men, is that they not alone Stand bound to be in themselves innocent, But that all such as are allyed to them In nearness, [or] dependance, by their care Should be free from suspition of all crime; And you have reap'd a double benefit From this last great act: first in the restraint Of her lost pleasures, you remove th' example From others of the like licentiousness, Then when 'tis known that your severitie Extended to your mother, who dares hope for The least indulgence or connivence in The easiest slips that may prove dangerous To you, or to the Kingdome? Theod. I must grant Your reason[s] good (Martell) if as she is My mother, she had been my subject, or That only here she could make challenge to A place of Being; But I know her temper And fear (if such a word become a King,) That in discovering her, I have let lo[o]se A Tygress, whose rage being shut up in darkness, Was grievous only to her self; Which brought Into the view of light, her cruelty, Provok'd by her own shame, will turn on him That foolishly presum'd to let her see The loath'd shape of her own deformitie. Mart. Beasts of that nature, when rebellious threats Begin to appear only in their eyes, Or any motion that may give suspition Of the least violence should be chain'd up; Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt, Par'd off, and knockt out, and so made unable To do ill; They would soon begin to loath it. I'll apply nothing: but had your Grace done, Or would doe yet, what your less forward zeal In words did only threaten, far less danger Would grow from acting it on her, than may Perhaps have Being from her apprehension Of what may once be practis'd: For believe it, Who confident of his own power, presumes To spend threats on an enemy, that hath means To shun the worst they can effect, gives armor To keep off his own strength; Nay more, disarms Himself, and lyes unguarded 'gainst all harms, Or doubt, or malice may produce. Theod. 'Tis true. And such a desperate cure I would have us'd, If the intemperate patient had not been So near me as a mother; but to her, And from me gentle unguents only were To be appli'd: and as physitians When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves Such viands as by their directions are Forbid to others though alike diseas'd; So she considering what she is, may challenge Those cordialls to restore her, by her birth, And priviledge, which at no suit must be Granted to others. Mart. May your pious care Effect but what it aim'd at, I am silent.

Theod. What laught you at Sir? Vitry. I have some occasion, I should not else; And the same cause perhaps That makes me do so, may beget in you A contrary effect. Theod. Why, what's the matter? Vitry. I see and joy to see that sometimes poor men, (And most of [such] are good) stand more indebted For [meanes] to breathe to such as are held vitious, Than those that wear, like Hypocrites on their foreheads, Th'ambitious titles of just men and vertuous. Mart. Speak to the purpose. Vitry. Who would e'er have thought The good old Queen, your Highness reverend mother, Into whose house (which was an Academ,) In which all principles of lust were practis'd: No soldier might presume to set his foot; At whose most blessed intercession All offices in the state, were charitably Confer'd on Panders, o'erworn chamber wrestlers, And such physitians as knew how to kill With safety under the pretence of saving, And such like children of a monstrous peace, That she I say should at the length provide That men of war, and honest younger brothers, That would not owe their feeding to their cod-peece, Should be esteem'd of more than mothers, or drones, Or idle vagabonds. Theod. I am glad to hear it, Prethee what course takes she to doe this? Vitry. One that cannot fail, she and her virtuous train, With her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying, The last night left the court, and, as 'tis more Than said, for 'tis confirm'd by such as met her, She's fled unto your brother. Theod. How? Vitry. Nay storm not, For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not Forgot [its] pace, and Thierry be a Prince Of such a fiery temper, as report Has given him out for; You shall have cause to use Such poor men as my self; And thank us too For comming to you, and without petitions; Pray heaven reward the good old woman for't. Mart. I foresaw this. Theod. I hear a tempest comming, That sings mine & my kingdomes ruin: haste, And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back: Yet stay, why should I use means to bring in A plague that of her self hath left me? Muster Our Soldiers up, we'll stand upon our guard, For we shall be attempted; Yet forbear The inequality of our powers will yield me Nothing but loss in their defeature: something Must be done, and done suddainly, save your labor, In this I'll use no counsell but mine own, That course though dangerous is best. Command Our daughter be in readiness, to attend us: Martell, your company, and honest Vitry, Thou wilt along with me. Vitry. Yes any where, To be worse than I 'm here, is past my fear. [Exeunt.

Thier. You are here in a sanctuary; and that viper (Who since he hath forgot to be a Son, I much disdain to think of as a brother) Had better, in despight of all the gods, To have raiz'd their Temples, and spurn'd down their Altars, Than in his impious abuse of you, To have call'd on my just anger. Brun. Princely Son; And in this, worthy of a near name I have in the relation of my wrongs, Been modest, and no word my tongue deliver'd T'express my insupportable injuries, But gave my heart a wound: Nor has my grief Being from what I suffer; But that he, Degenerate as he is, should be the actor Of my extremes; And force me to divide The [fires] of brotherly affection, Which should make but one flame. Thier. That part of his As it deserves shall burn no more: [if or] The tears of Orphans, Widows, or all such As dare acknowledge him to be their Lord, Joyn'd to your wrongs, with his heart blood have power To put it out: and you, and these your servants, Who in our favours shal find cause to know In that they left not you, how dear we hold them; Shal[l] give Theodoret to understand, His ignorance of the prizeless Jewel, which He did possess in you, mother in you, Of which I am more proud to be the donor, Than if th' absolute rule of all the world Were offer'd to this hand; Once more you are welcome, Which with all ceremony due to greatness I would make known, but that our just revenge Admits not of delay; Your hand Lord Generall.

Brun. Your favor and his merit I may say Have made him such, but I am jelous how Your subjects will receive it. Thier. How my subjects? What doe you make of me? Oh heaven! My subjects! How base should I esteem the name of Prince If that poor dust were any thing before The whirle-wind of my absolute command? Let 'em be happy and rest so contented: They pay the tribute of their hearts & knees, To such a Prince that not alone has power, To keep his own but to increase it; That Although he hath a body may add to The fam'd night labor of strong Hercules: Yet is the master of a continence That so can temper it, that I forbear Their daughters, and their wives, whose hands though strong, As yet have never drawn by unjust mean Their proper wealth into my treasury, But I grow glorious, and let them beware That in their least repining at my pleasures, They change not a mild Prince, (for if provok'd I dare and will be so) into a Tyrant. Brun. You see there's hope that we shall rule again, And your fal'n fortunes rise. Bawd. I hope your Highness Is pleas'd that I should still hold my place with you; For I have been so long us'd to provide you Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that surely If cashir'd now, I shall prove a bad Cator In the Fish-market of cold chastity. Lecure. For me I am your own, nor since I first Knew what it was to serve you, have remembred I had a soul, but such [a] one whose essence Depended wholy on your Highness pleasure, And therefore Madam— Brun. Rest assur'd you are Such instruments we must not lose. Lecure. Bawd. Our service. Thier. You have view'd them then, what's your opinion of them? In this dull time of peace, we have prepar'd 'em Apt for the war. Ha? Prota. Sir, they have limbs That promise strength sufficient, and rich armors The Soldiers best lov'd wealth: More, it appears They have been drill'd, nay very pretily drill'd: For many of them can discharge their muskets Without the danger of throwing off their heads, Or being offensive to the standers by, By sweating too much backwards; Nay I find They know the right, and left hand file, and may With some impulsion no doubt be brought To pass the A, B, C, of war, and come Unto the Horn-book. Thier. Well, that care is yours; And see that you effect it. Prota. I am slow To promise much; But if within ten days, By precepts and examples, not drawn from Worm-eaten presidents of the Roman wars But from mine own, I make them not transcend All that e'er yet bore armes, let it be said, Protaldye brags, which would be unto me As hatefull as to be esteem'd a coward: For Sir, few Captaines know the way to win [him], And make the soldiers valiant. You shall [see me] Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and drink, And be together drunk; And, what seems stranger, We'll sometimes wench together, which once practis'd And with some other care and hidden acts, They being all made mine, I'll breath[e] into them Such fearless resolution and such fervor, That though I brought them to beseige a fort, Whose walls were steeple high, and cannon proof, Not to be undermin'd, they should fly up, Like swallows: and the parapet once won, For proof of their obedience, if I will'd them They should leap down again, and what is more, By some directions they should have from me, Not break their necks. Thi. This is above belief. Brun. Sir, on my knowledg[e] though he hath spoke much, He's able to do more. Lecure. She means on her. Brun. And howsoever in his thankfulness, For some few favors done him by my self, He left Austracia, not Theodoret, Though he was chiefly aim'd at, could have laid With all his Dukedomes power, that shame upon him, Which in his barborous malice to my honor, He swore with threats to effect. Thier. I cannot but Believe you Madam, thou art one degree Grown nearer to my heart, and I am proud To have in thee so glorious a plant Transported hither; In thy conduct, we Go on assur'd of conquest; our remove Shall be with the next Sun.

Lecure. Amazement leave me, 'tis he. Bawd. We are again undone. Prot. Our guilt hath no assurance nor defence. Bawd. If now your ever ready wit fail to protect us, We shall be all discover'd. Brun. Be not so In your amazement and your foolish fears, I am prepared for't. Theod. How? Not one poor welcome, In answer of so long a journey made Only to see your brother. Thier. I have stood Silent thus long, and am yet unresolv'd Whether to entertaine thee on my sword, As fits a parricide of a mothers honor; Or whether being a Prince, I yet stand bound (Though thou art here condemn'd) to give thee hearing Before I execute. What foolish hope, (Nay pray you forbear) or desperate madness rather, (Unless thou com'st assur'd, I stand in debt As far to all impiety as thy self) Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe? Since looking only here, it cannot but Draw fresh blood from thy sear'd up conscience, To make thee sensible of that horror, which They ever bear about them, that like Nero, Like said I? Thou art worse: since thou darest strive In her defame to murther thine alive. Theod. That she that long since had the boldness to Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other Should so report her) could not want the cunning, (Since they go hand in hand) to lay fair colo[u]rs On her black crimes, I was resolv'd before, Nor make I doubt, but that she hath impoyson'd Your good opinion of me, and so far Incens'd your rage against me, that too late I come to plead my innocence. Brun. To excuse thy impious scandalls rather. Prot. Rather forc'd with fear to be compel'd to come. Thierry. Forbear. Theod. This moves not me, and yet had I not been Transported on my own integrity, I neither am so odious to my subjects, Nor yet so barren of defence, but that By force I could have justified my guilt, Had I been faulty, but since innocence Is to it self an hundred thousand gards, And that there is no Son, but though he owe That name to an ill mother, but stands bound Rather to take away with his own danger From the number of her faults, than for his own Security, to add unto them. This, This hath made me to prevent th'expence Of bloud on both sides, the injuries, the rapes, (Pages, that ever wait upon the war:) The account of all which, since you are the cause, Believe it, would have been required from you; Rather I say to offer up my daughter, Who living onely could revenge my death, With my heart blood a sacrifice to your anger Than that you should draw on your head more curses Than yet you have deserved. Thier. I do begin To feel an alteration in my nature, And in his full sail'd confidence, a showre Of gentle rain, that falling on the fire Of my hot rage hath quenched it, ha! I would Once more speak roughly to him, and I will, Yet there is something whispers to me, that I have said too much. How is my heart devided Between the duty of a Son, and love Due to a brother! yet I am swayed here, And must aske of you, how 'tis possible You can effect me that have learned to hate, Where you should pay all love? Theod. Which joyn'd with duty, Upon my knees I should be proud to tender, Had she not us'd her self so many swords To cut those bonds that tide me to it. Thier. Fie no more of that. Theod. Ala[s] it is a theme, I take no pleasure to discourse of; Would It could assoon be buried to the world, As it should die to me: nay more, I wish (Next to my part of heaven) that she would spend The last part of her life so here, that all Indifferent Judges might condemn me, for A most malicious slanderer, nay texde it Upon my forehead, if you hate me mother, Put me to such a shame, pray you do, believe it There is no glory that may fall upon me, Can equall the delight I should receive In that disgrace; provided the repeal Of your long banish'd virtues, and good name, Usher'd me to it. Thier. See, she shews her self An e[a]sie mother, which her tears confirme. Theod. 'Tis a good sign, the comfortablest rain I ever saw. Thier. Embrace: Why this is well, May never more but love in you, and duty On your part rise between you. Bawd. Do you hear Lord Generall, Does not your new stamp'd honor on the suddain Begin to grow sick? Prota. Yes I find it fit, That putting off my armor I should think of Some honest hospitall to retire to. Bawd. Sure although I am a bawd, yet being a Lord, They cannot whip me for't, what's your opinion? Lecure. The beadle will resolve you, for I cannot, There is something that more near concerns my self, That calls upon me. Mart. Note but yonder scarabs, That liv'd upon the dung of her base pleasures, How from the fear that she may yet prove honest Hang down their wicked heads. Vitry. What is that to me? Though they and all the pol[e]cats of the Court, Were trust together, I perceive not how It can advantage me a cardekue, To help to keep me honest. [A horn.

Thier. How, from whence? Post. These letters will resolve your grace. Thier. What speak they? [Reads. How all things meet to make me this day happy? See mother, brother, to your reconcilement Another blessing almost equall to it, Is coming towards me; My contracted wife Ordella, daughter of wise Datarick, The King of Aragon is on our confines; Then to arrive at such a time, when you Are happily here to honor with your presence Our long defer'd, but much wish'd nuptiall, Falls out above expression; Heaven be pleas'd That I may use these blessings powr'd on me With moderation. Brun. Hell and furies ayd me, That I may have power to avert the plagues That press upon me. Thier. Two dayes journy sayest thou, We will set forth to meet her: in the mean time See all things be prepar'd to entertain her; Nay let me have your companies, there's a Forrest In the midway shall yeild us hunting sport, To ease our travel, I'll not have a brow But shall wear mirth upon it, therefore clear them. We'll wash away all sorrow in glad feasts; And the war we mean to men, we'll make on beasts.

Brun. Oh that I had the Magick to transforme you Into the shape of such, that your own hounds Might tear you peece-meale; Are you so stupid? No word of comfort? have I fed you mothers From my excess of moysture, with such cost And can you yeild no other retribution, But to devour your maker, pandar, sponge, Impoysoner, all grown barren? Prota. You your self That are our mover, and for whom alone We live, have fail'd your self in giving way To the reconcilement of your [sonnes]. Lecure. Which if You had prevented, or would teach us how They might again be sever'd, we could easily Remove all other hind'rances that stop The passage of your pleasures. Baud. And for me, If I fail in my office to provide you Fresh delicat[e]s, hang me. Brun. Oh you are dull, and find not The cause of my vexation; Their reconcilement Is a mock castle built upon the sand By children, which when I am pleas'd to o'rethrow, I can with ease spurn down. Lecure. If so, from whence Grows your affliction? Brun. My grief comes along With the new Queen, in whose grace all my power Must suffer shipwrack: for me now, That hitherto have kept the first, to know A second place, or yeeld the least precedence To any other ['s] death; To have my sleeps Less enquir'd after, or my rising up Saluted with less reverence, or my gates Empty of suitors, or the Kings great favours To pass through any hand but mine, or he Himself to be directed by another, Would be to me: doe you understand me, yet No meanes to prevent this. Prota. Fame gives her out To be a woman of [a] chastity Not to be wrought upon; and therefore Madam For me, though I have pleas'd you, to attempt her Were to no purpose. Brun. Tush, some other way. Baud. Faith I know none else, all my bringing up Aim'd at no other learning. Lecure. Give me leave, If my art fail me not, I have thought on A speeding project. Brun. What [ist]? but effect it, And thou shalt be my Æsculapius, Thy image shall be set up in pure gold, To which I'll fall down and worship it. Lecure. The Lady is fair. Brun. Exceeding fair. Lecure. And young. Brun. Some fifteen at the most. Lecure. And loves the King with equall ardor. Brun. More, she dotes on him. Lecure. Well then, [what] think you if I make a drink Which given unto him on the bridall night Shall for five days so rob his faculties, Of all ability to pay that duty, Which new made wives expect, that she shall swear She is not match'd to a man. Prota. 'Twere rare. Lecure. And then, If she have any part of woman in her, She'll or fly out, or at least give occasion Of such a breach which nere can be made up, Since he that to all else did never fail Of as much as could be perform'd by man Proves only Ice to her. Brun. 'Tis excellent. Bawd. The Physitian Helps ever at a dead lift; a fine calling, That can both raise, and take down, out upon thee. Brun. For this one service [I am] ever thine, Prepare it; I'll give it him my self, for you Protaldye, By this kiss, and our promis'd sport at night, Doe conjure you to bear up, not minding The opposition of Theodoret, Or any of his followers; What so ere You are, yet appear valiant, and make good The opinion that is had of you: For my self In the new Queens remove, being made secure, Fear not, I'll make the future building sure. [Exeunt.

Theod. This Stag stood well, and cunningly. Thierry. My horse, I'm sure, has found it, for her sides are Blooded from flank to shoulder, where's the troop?

Theodoret. Past homeward, weary and tir'd as we are, Now Martell, have you remembred what we thought of? Mart. Yes Sir, I have snigled him, and if there be Any desert in his blood, beside the itch, Or manly heat, but what decoctions Leaches, and callises have cram'd into him, Your Lordship shall know perfect. Thier. What's that, may not I know too? Theod. Yes Sir, To that end we cast the project. Thierry. What [ist]? Mart. A desire Sir, Upon the gilded flag your Graces favor Has stuck up for a Generall, and to inform you, For this hour he shall pass the test, what valour, Staid judgement, soul, or safe discretion Your mothers wandring eyes, and your obedience Have flung upon us, to assure your knowledge, He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing, Load him with piles of honors; Set him off With all the cunning foyls that may deceive us: But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmanner'd, Unhonest, unaffected, undone, fool, And most unheard of coward, a meer lump Made to loade beds withall, and like a night-mare, Ride Ladies that forget to say their prayers, One that dares only be diseas'd, and in debt, Whose body mewes more plaisters every month, Than women doe old faces. Thier. No more, I know him, I now repent my error, take your time And try him home, ever thus far reserv'd, You tie your anger up. Mart. I lost it else Sir. Thier. Bring me his sword fair taken without violence, For that will best declare him. Theod. That's the thing. Th[ie]r. And my best horse is thine. Mart. Your Graces servant. [Exit. Theod. [You'le] hunt no more Sir. Thier. Not to day, the weather Is grown too warm, besides the dogs are spent, We'll take a cooler morning, let's to horse, And hollow in the troop. [Exeunt. Wind horns.

1. I marry Twainer, This woman gives indeed, these are the Angels That are the keepers saints. 2. I like a woman That handles the deers dowsets with discretion; And payes us by proportion. 1. 'Tis no treason To think this good old Lady has a stump yet That may require a corrall. 2. And the bells too.

Shee has lost a friend of me else, but here's the clark, No more for feare o'th' bell ropes. Prota. How now Keepers, Saw you the King? 1. Yes Sir, he's newly mounted, And as we take 't ridden home. Pro. Farew[e]ll then. [Exit Keepers.

My honour'd Lord, Fortune has made me happy To meet with such a man of men to side me. Protald. How Sir? I know ye not Nor what your fortune means. Mart. Few words shall serve, I am betrai'd Sir: Innocent and honest; malice and violence, Are both against me, basely and foully layd for; For my life Sir, danger is now about me, Now in my throat Sir. Protald. Where Sir? Mart. Nay I fear not, And let it now powr down in storms upon me, I have met with a noble guard. Prot. Your meaning Sir, For I have present business. Mart. O my Lord, Your honor cannot leave a gentleman At least a fair design of this brave nature, To which your worth is wedded, your profession Hatcht in, and made one peece in such a perill, There are but six my Lord. Prot. What six? Mart. Six villains sworn, and in pay to kill me. Protaldye. Six? Mart. Alas Sir, what can six do, or sixscore, now you are present? Your name will blow 'em off: say they have shot too, Who dare present a peece? your valour's proof Sir. Prot. No, I'll assure you Sir, nor my discretion Against a multitude; 'Tis true, I dare fight Enough, and well enough, and long enough: But wisedome Sir, and weight of what is on me, In which I am no more mine own, nor yours Sir, Nor as I take it any single danger, But what concerns my place, tel[l]s me directly, Beside my person, my fair reputation, If I thrust into crowds, and seek occasions Suffers opinion, six? Why Hercules Avoyded two men, yet not to give example; But only for your present dangers sake Sir, Were there but four Sir, I car'd not if I kill'd them, They will serve to whet my sword. Mart. There are but four Sir, I did mistake them; but four such as Europe, Excepting your great valour. Prot. Well consider'd, I will not meddle with 'em, four in honor, Are equall with fourscore, besides they're people Only directed by their fury. Mart. So much nobler shall be your way of justice. Prot. That I find not. Mart. You will not leave me thus? Prot. I would not leave you, but look you Sir, Men of my place and business, must not Be question'd thus. Mart. You cannot pass Sir, Now they have seen me with you without danger. They are here Sir, within hearing, take but two. Prot. Let the law take 'em; take a tree Sir I'll take my horse, that you may keep with safety, If they have brought no hand-saws, within this hour I'll send you rescue, and a toyl to take 'em. Mart. You shall not goe so poorly, stay but one Sir. Prot. I have been so hamper'd with these rescues, So hew'd an[d] tortur'd, that the truth is Sir, I have mainly vowd against 'em, yet for your sake, If as you say there be but one, I'll stay, And see fair play o' both sides. Mart. There is no More Sir, and as I doubt a base one too. Prot. Fie on him, goe lug him out by th' ears. Mart. Yes, This is he Sir, the basest in the kingdome. Prot. Do you know me? Mart. Yes, for a generall fool, A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion baw[d], Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite. Prot. The best man best knows patience. Mart. Yes, This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you, Or render it to me, for one you shall doe. Pro. If wearing it may do you any honor, I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir. Mart. Now get you home, and tell your Lady Mistris, Shee has shot up a sweet mushrum; quit your place too, And say you are counsel'd well, thou wilt be beaten else By thine own lanceprisadoes; when they know thee, That tuns of oyl of roses will not cure thee; Goe get you to your foyning work at Court, And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton; An armor like a frost will search your bones And make you roar you rogue; Not a reply, For if you doe, your ears goe off. Prot. Still patience. [Exeunt.

Thier. It is your place, and though in all things else You may and ever shall command me, yet In this I'll be obeyed. Ordella. Sir, the consent, That made me yours, shall never teach me to Repent I am so; yet be you but pleas'd To give me leave to say so much; The honor You offer me were better given to her, To whom you owe the power of giving. Thier. Mother, You hear this and rejoyce in such a blessing That payes to you so large a share of duty, But fie no more, for as you hold a place Nearer my heart than she, you must sit nearest To all those graces, that are in the power Of Majesty to bestow. Brun. Which I'll provide, Shall be short liv'd Lecure. Lecure. I have it ready. Brun. 'Tis well, wait on our cup. Lecure. You honor me. Thier. We are dull, No object to provoke mirth. Theod. Martell, If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast, With some thing that will yield matter of mirth, Fit for no common view. Thier. Touching Protaldye. Theod. You have it. Brun. What of him? I fear his baseness [aside. In spight of all the titles that my favours Have cloth'd him, which will make discovery Of what is yet conceal'd.

Theod. Look Sir, he has it, Nay we shall have peace when so great a soldier As the renoun'd P[ro]taldye, will give up His sword rather then use it. Brun. 'Twas thy plot, Which I will turn on thine own head. [aside. Thie. Pray you speak, How won you him to part from't? Mart. Won him Sir, He would have yielded it upon his knees Before he would have hazarded the exchange Of a phil[l]ip of the forehead: had you will'd me I durst have undertook he should have sent you His Nose, provided that the loss of it Might have sav'd the rest of his face: he is, Sir The most unutterable coward that e'er nature Blest with hard shoulders, which were only given him, To the ruin of bastinados. Thier. Possible? Theod. Observe but how she frets. Mart. Why believe it: But that I know the shame of this disgrace, Will make the beast to live with such, and never Presume to come more among men; I'll hazard My life upon it, that a boy of twelve Should scourge him hither like a Parish Top, And make him dance before you. Brun. Slave thou liest, Thou dar'st as well speak Treason in the hearing Of those that have the power to punish it, As the least syllable of this before him, But 'tis thy hate to me. Martel. Nay, pray you Madam, I have no ears to hear you, though a foot To let you understand what he is. Brun. Villany. Theod. You are too violent.

The worst that can come Is blanketing; for beating, and such virtues I have been long acquainted with. Mart. Oh strange! Bawdb. Behold the man you talk of. Brun. Give me leave, Or free thy self, (think in what place you are) From the foul imputation that is laid Upon thy valour (be bold, I'll protect you) Or here I vow (deny it or forswear it) These honors which thou wear'st unworthily, Which be but impudent enough, and keep them, Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes. Prot. I have it, My v[a]lour! is there any here beneath, The stile of King, dares question it? Thier. This is rare. Prot. Which of [my] actions, which have still been noble, Has rend'rd me suspected? Thier. Nay Martel[l] You must not fall off. Mart. Oh Sir, fear it not, Doe you know this sword? Prot. Yes. Mart. Pray you on what terms Did you part with it? Prot. Part with it say you? Mart. So. Thier. Nay, study not an answer, confess freely. Prot. Oh I remember't now at the Stags [fall], As we to day were hunting, a poor fellow, And now I view you better, I may say Much of your pitch: this silly wretch I spoke of With his petition falling at my feet, (Which much against my Will he kist,) desir'd That as a special means for his preferment

I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword, To cut off the Stags head. Brun. Will you hear that? Bawdb. This Lye bears a similitude of Truth. Prot. I ever courteous, (a great weakness in me) Granted his humble suit. Mart. Oh impudence! Thier. This change is excellent. Mart. A word with you, Deny it not, I was that man disguis'd, You know my temper, and as you respect A daily cudgeling for one whole year, Without a second pulling by the ears, Or tweaks by th' nose, or the most precious balm You us'd of patience, patience do you mark me, Confess before these Kings with what base fear Thou didst deliver it. Prot. Oh, I sh[all] burst, And if I have not instant liberty To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong Will break my heart, although Herculean, And somewhat bigger; there's my gage, pray you he[re], Let me redeem my credit. Thier. Ha, ha, forbear. Mart. Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not, Against all odds of Armor and of Weapons, With this make him confess it on his knees Cut off my head. Prot. No, that's my office. Bawdb. Fie, you take the Hangmans place. Ordel. Nay, good my Lord Let me attone this difference, do not suffer Our bridal night to be the Centaurs Feast. [You are] a Knight, and bound by oath to grant All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake Forget your suppos'd wrong. Prot. Well let him thank you, For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day, And may be, on submission longer. Theod. Nay Martel[l] you must be patient. Mart. I am yours, And this slave shall be once more mine. Thier. Sit all; One health, and so to bed, for I too long Deferr my choicest delicates. Brun. Which if poison Have any power, thou shalt like Tantalus Behold and never taste, be careful. Lecu. Fear not. Brun. Though it be rare in our Sex, yet for once I will begin a health. Thier. Let it come freely. Brun. Lecure, the cup; here to the son we hope This night shall be an Embrion. Thier. You have nam'd A blessing that I most desir'd, I pledge you; Give me a larger cup, that is too little Unto so great a god. Brun. Nay, then you wrong me, Follow as I began. Thier. Well as you please. Brun. Is't done? Lecu. Unto your wish I warrant you, For this night I durst trust him with my Mother. Thier. So 'tis gone round, lights. Brun. Pray you use my service. Ordel. 'Tis that which I shall ever owe you, Madam, And must have none from you, pray [you] pardon me. Thier. Good rest to all. Theod. And to [you] pleasant labour. Mart[ell] Your company, Madam, good night.

Brun. Nay, you have cause to blush, but I will hide it, And what's more, I forgive you; is't not pity That thou that art the first to enter combate With any Woman, and what is more, o'ercome her, In which she is best pleas'd, should be so [fearefull] To meet a man. Prot. Why would you have me lose That bloud that is dedicated to your service In any other quarrel? Brun. No, reserve it, As I will study to preserve thy credit: You sirrah, be't your care to find out one That is poor, though valiant, that at any rate Will, to redeem my servants reputation, Receive a publique baffling. Bawdb. Would your Highness Were pleas'd to inform me better of your purpose. Brun. Why one, Sir, that would thus be box'd Or kick'd, do you apprehend me now? Bawdb. I feel you Madam, The man that shall receive this from my Lord, Shall have a thousand crowns. Pro. He shall. Bawdb. Besides His day of bastinadoing past o'er, He shall not lose your grace, nor your good favour? Brun. That shall make way to it. Bawdb. It must be a man Of credit in the Court, that is to be The foil unto your v[a]lour. Prot. True, it should. Bawdb. And if he have place there, 'tis not the worse. Brun. 'Tis much the better. Bawdb. If he be a Lord, 'Twill be the greater grace. Brun. Thou art in the right. Bawdb. Why then behold that valiant man and Lord, That for your sake will take a cudgeling: For be assur'd, when it is spread abroad That you have dealt with me, they'll give you out For one of the Nine Worthies. Brun. Out you pandar, Why, to beat thee is only exercise For such as do affect it, lose not time In vain replies, but do it: come my solace Let us to bed, and our desires once quench'd We'll there determine of Theodorets death For he's the Engine us'd to ruin us; Yet one wor[d] more, Lecure, art thou assur'd The potion will work? Lecure. My life upon it. Brun. Come my Protaldye, then glut me with Those best delights of man, that are deny'd To her that does expect them, being a Bride.

Thier. Sure I have drunk the bloud of Elephants: The tears of Mandrake, and the Marble dew, Mixt in my draught, have quencht my natural heat, And left no spark of fire, but in mine eyes, With which I may behold my miseries: Ye wretched flames which play upon my sight, Turn inward, make me all one piece, though earth. My tears shall over-whelm you else too. Or. What moves my Lord to this strange sadness? If any late discerned want in me, Give cause to your repentance, care and duty Shall find a painful way to recompence. Thier. Are you yet frozen veins, feel you a breath, Whose temperate heat would make the North Star reel, Her Icy pillars thaw'd, and do you not melt? Draw nearer, yet nearer, That from thy barren kiss thou maist confess I have not heat enough to make a blush. Ordel. Speak nearer to my understanding, like a Husband. Thier. How should he speak the language of a Husband, Who wants the tongue and organs of his voice? Ordel. It is a phrase will part with the same ease From you, with that you now deliver. Thier. Bind not his ears up with so dull a charm Who hath no other sense left open, why should thy words Find more restraint than thy free speaking actions, Thy close embraces, and thy midnight sighs The silent Orators to slow desire? Ordel. Strive not to win content from ignorance Which must be lost in knowledge: heaven can witness My farthest hope of good, reacht at your pleasure, Which seeing alone, may in your look be read: Add not a doubtful comment to a text That in it self is direct and easie. Thier. Oh thou hast drunk the juyce of hemlock too, Or did upbraided nature make this pair To shew she had not quite forgot her first Justly prais'd Workmanship, the first chast couple Before the want of joy, taught guilty sight A way through shame and sorrow to delight: Say, may we mix, as in their innocence When Turtles kist, to confirm happiness, Not to beget it. Ordel. I know no bar. Thier. Should I believe thee, yet thy pulse beats, woman, And says the name of Wife did promise thee The blest reward of duty to thy mother, Who gave so often witness of her joy, When she did boast thy likeness to her Husband. Ordel. 'Tis true, that to bring forth a second to your self, Was only worthy of my Virgin loss; And should I prize you less, unpattern'd Sir? Then being exemplify'd, is't not more honor To be possessor of unequall'd virtue, Than what is paralell'd? give me belief, The name of mother knows no way of good, More than the end in me: who weds for Lust Is oft a widow: when I married you, I lost the name of Maid to gain a Title Above the wish of change, which that part can Only maintain, is still the same in man, His virtue and his calm society, Which no gray hairs can threaten to dissolve Nor wrinkles bury. Thier. Confine thy self to silence, lest thou take That part of reason from me, is only left To give perswasion to me, I'm a man: Or say thou hast never seen the Rivers haste With gladsome speed, to meet th' amorous sea. Ordel. We are but to praise the coolness of their streams. Thier. Nor view'd the Kids, taught by their lustful [s]ires, Pursue each other through the wanton lawns, And lik'd the sport. Ordel. As it made way unto their envied rest With weary knots, binding their harmless eyes. Thier. Nor do you know the reason why the Dove, One of the pair, your hands wont hourly feed, So often clipt and kist her happy mate. Ordel. Unless it were to welcome his wish'd sight, Whose absence only gave her mourning voice. Thier. And you could, Dove-like to a single object, Bind your loose spirits to one, nay, such a one Whom only eyes and ears must flatter good, Your surer sence made useless, my self, nay As in my all of good, already known. Ordel. Let proof plead for me; let me be mew'd up Where never eye may reach me, but your own; And when I shall repent, but in my looks, if sigh. Thier. Or shed a tear that's warm. Ordel. But in your sadness. Thier. Or when you hear the birds call for their mates, Ask if it be St. Valentine, their coupling day. Ordel. If any thing may make a thought suspected Of knowing any happiness but you, Divorce me, by the Title of Most Falshood. Thier. Oh, who would know a wife, that might have such a friend? Posterity henceforth, lose the name of blessing And leave the earth inhabited to people heaven.

Mart. All happiness to Thierry and Ordella. Thier. 'Tis a desire but borrowed from me, my happiness Shall be the period of all good mens wishes, Which friends, nay dying Fathers shall bequeath, And in my one give all: is there a duty Belongs to any power of mine, or love To any virtue I have right to? here, place it here, Ordella's name shall only bear command, Rule, Title, Sovereignty. Brun. What passion sways my Son? Thier. Oh Mother, she has doubled every good The travel of your bloud made possible To my glad being. Prot. He should have done Little to her, he is so light hearted. Thier. Brother, friends, if honor unto shame If wealth to want inlarge the present sense, My joyes are unbounded, instead of question Let it be envy, not bring a present To the high offering of our mirth, Banquets, and Masques; Keep waking our delights, mocking nights malice, Whose dark brow would fright pleasure from us, Our Court be but one st[a]ge of Revels, and each [e]ye The Scene where our content moves. Theod. There shall want Nothing to express our shares in your delight, Sir. Mart. Till now I ne'er repented the estate Of Widower. Thier. Musick, why art thou so slow voic'd? it staies thy presence My Ordella, this chamber is a sphere Too narrow for thy all-moving virtue. Make way, free way I say; Who must alone, her Sexes want supply, Had need to have a room both large and high. Mart. This passion's above utterance. Theod. Nay, credulity. [Exit all but Thierry, Brunhalt. Brun. Why Son what mean you, are you a man? Thier. No Mother I am no man, were I a man, How could I be thus happy? Brun. How can a wife be author of this joy then? Thier. That being no man, I am married to no woman; The best of men in full ability, Can only hope to satisfie a wife, And for that hope ridiculous, I in my want And such defective poverty, that to her bed From my first Cradle brought no strength but thought, Have met a temperance beyond hers that rockt me, Necessity being her bar; where this Is so much sensless of my depriv'd fire; She knows it not a loss by her desire. Brun. It is beyond my admiration. Thier. Beyond your sexes faith, The unripe Virgins of our age, to hear't Will dream themselves to women, and convert Th' example to a miracle. Brun. Alas, 'tis your defect moves my amazement, But what [i]ll can be separate from ambition? Cruel Theodoret. Thier. What, of my brother? Brun. That to his name your barrenness adds rule; Who loving the effect, would not be strange In favouring the cause; look on the profit, And gain will quickly point the mischief out. Thier. The name of Father, to what I possess Is shame and care. Brun. Were we begot to single happiness I grant you; but from such a wife, such virtue To get an heir, what hermet would not find Deserving argument to break his vow Even in his age of chastity? Thier. You teach a deaf man language. Brun. The cause found out, the malady may cease, Have you heard of one Forts? Thier. A learned Astronomer, great Magician, Who lives hard by retir'd. Brun. Repair to him, with the just hour and place Of your nativity; fools are amaz'd at fate, Griefs but conceal'd are never desperate. Thier. You have timely waken'd me, nor shall I sleep Without the satisfaction of his Art. [Exit Thierry.

Brun. Wisdom prepares you to't, Lecure, met happily. Lecure. The ground answers your purpose, the conve[iance] Being secure and easie, falling just Behind the state set for Theodoret. Brun. 'Tis well, your trust invites you to a second charge, You know Leforte's Cell. Lecure. Who constellated your fair birth. Brun. Enough, I see thou know'st him, where's Bawdber? Lec. I left him careful of the project cast, To raise Protaldie's credit. Brun. A sore that must be plaister'd, in whose wound Others shall find their graves, think themselves sound, Your ear, and quickest apprehension. [Exeunt.

Bawdb. This man of war will advance. Lecu. His hour's upon the stroke. Bawdb. Wind him back, as you favour my ears, I [lo]ve no noise in my head, my brains have hitherto Been imploy'd in silent businesses.

Lecu. The Gentleman is within your reach Sir. [Exit. Bawdb. Give ground, whilst I drill my wits to the encounter, Devitry, I take it. Devi. All's that left of him. Bawdb. Is there another parcel of you, if it be at pawn I will gladly redeem it, to make you wholly mine. Vitry. You seek too hard a pennyworth. Bawdb. You too ill to keep such distance; your parts have been long known To me, howsoever you please to forget acquaintance. Vit. I must confess I have been subject to lewd company. Bawdb. Thanks for your good remembrance, You have been a soldier Devitry and born[e] Arms. Vit. A couple of unprofitable ones, that have only serv'd to get me a stomach to my dinner. Bawdb. Much good may it do you, Sir. Vitry. You sh[ould] have heard me say I had din'd first, I have built on an unwholsome ground, rais'd up a house, before I knew a Tenant, matcht to meet weariness, sought to find want and hunger. Bawdb. It is time you put up your sword, and run away for meat, Sir, nay, if I had not withdrawn e'r now, I might have kept thee; fast with you: but since the way to thrive is never late, what is the nearest course to profit think you? Vitry. It may be your worship will say bawdry. Bawdb. True sense, bawdry. Vitry. Why, is the[re] five kinds of them, I never knew but one. Bawdb. I'll shew you a new way of prostitution, fall back, further yet, further, there is fifty crowns, do but as much to Protaldye the Queens favorite, they are doubled. Vitry. But thus much. Bawdb. Give him but an affront as he comes to the presence, and in his drawing make way, like a true bawd to his valour, the s[um]'s thy own; if you take a scratch in the arm or so, every drop of bloud weighs down a ducket. Vitry. After that rate, I and my friends would begger the kingdom. Sir, you have made me blush to see my want, whose cure is such a cheap and easie purchase, this is Male-bawdry belike.

Bring to my wisdom? my invention tickles With apprehension on't: Pro. These are the joyes of marriage, Lady, Whose sights are able to dissolve Virginity. Speak freely, do you not envy the Brides felicity? Lady. How should I, being partner of't? Pro. What you enjoy is but the Banquets view, The taste stands from your pallat; if he impart By day so much of his content, think what night gave?

Vitry. That box was left out of the bargain. Pro. Help, help, help. Bawdb. Plague of the Scriveners running hand, What a blow is this to my reputation!

Omnes. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Theo. Your General, Mother, will display himself. 'Spight of our Peace I see. Thier. Forbear these civil jars, fie Protaldy, So open in your projects, avoid our presence, sirrah. Devi. Willingly; if you have any more wages to earn, You see I can take pains. Theo. There's somewhat for thy labour, More than was promis'd, ha, ha, ha. Bawdb. Where could I wish my self now? in the Isle of Dogs. So I might scape scratching, for I see by her Cats eyes I shall be claw'd fearfully. Thier. We'll hear no more on't, [Soft Musick. Musick drown all sadness; Command the Revellers in, at what a rate I do purchase My Mothers absence, to give my spleen full liberty. Brun. Speak not a thoughts delay, it names thy ruin. Pro. I had thought my life had born[e] more value with you. Brun. Thy loss carries mine with't, let that secure thee. The vault is ready, and the door conveys to't Falls just behind his chair, the blow once given, Thou art unseen. Pro. I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm sure. [Withdraws. Brun. Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction. Thier. You will add unto her rage. Theod. 'Foot, I shall burst, unless I vent my self, ha, ha, ha. Brun. Me Sir, you never could Have found a time to invite more willingness In my dispose to pleasure. Memb. Would you would please to make some other choise. Revel. 'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me, Lady, Should you refuse. Memb. Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers looks Have turn'd all air to earth in me, they sit Upon my heart like night-charms, black and heavy.

Thier. You are too much libertine. Theod. The fortune of the fool perswades my laughter More than his cowardize; was ever Rat Ta'en by the tail thus? ha, ha, ha. Thier. Forbear I say. Prot. No eye looks this way, I will wink and strike, Lest I betray my self. [Behind the State stabs Theodoret. Theo. Ha, did you not see one near me? Thier. How near you, why do you look so pale, brother? Treason, treason. Memb. Oh my presage! Father. Ordella. Brother. Mart. Prince, Noble Prince. Thier. Make the gates sure, search into every angle And corner of the Court, oh my shame! Mother, Your Son is slain, Theodoret, noble Theodoret, Here in my arms, too weak a Sanctuary 'Gainst treachery and murder, say, is the Traitor taken? 1 Guard. No man hath past the chamber on my life Sir. Thier. Set present fire unto the place, that all unseen May perish in this mischief, who moves slow to't, Shall add unto the flame. Brun. What mean you? give me your private hearing. Thier. Perswasion is a partner in the crime, I will renounce my claim unto a mother, If you make offer on't. Brun. E'er a Torch can take flame, I will produce The author of the fact. Thier. Withdraw but for your Lights. Memb. Oh my too true suspition.

Thier. Speak, where's the Engine to this horrid act? Brun. Here you do behold her; upon whom make good Your causeless rage; the deed was done by my incitement, Not yet repented. Thier. Wh[i]ther did nature start, when you conceiv'd? A birth so unlike woman? say, what part Did not consent to make a son of him, Reserv'd it self within you to his ruine. Brun. Ha, ha, a son of mine! doe not dissever Thy fathers dust, shaking his quiet urn, To which [thy] breath would send so foul an issue. My Son, thy Brother? Thier. Was not Theodoret my brother, or is thy tongue Confederate with thy heart, to speak and do Only things monstrous? Brun. Hear me and thou shalt make thine own belief, Thy, still with sorrow mention'd, father liv'd Three careful years, in hope of wished heirs, When I conceiv'd, being from his jealous fear Injoyn'd to quiet home, one fatal day: Transported with my pleasure to the chase, I forc'd command, and in pursuit of game Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes. Despair which only in his love saw life Worthy of being, from a Gard'ners Arms Snatcht this unlucky brat, and call'd it mine, When the next year repaid my loss with thee: But in thy wrongs preserv'd my misery, Which that I might diminish, though not end, My sighs, and wet eies from thy Fathers Will, Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions Of France unto thee, and only left Austracia unto that changling, whose life affords Too much of ill 'gainst me to prove my words, And call him stranger. Thier. Come, doe not weep, I must, nay do believe you. And in my fathers satisfaction count it Merit, not wrong, or loss: Brun. You doe but flatter, there's anger yet flames In your eyes. Thier. See, I will quench it, and confess that you Have suffer'd double travel for me. Brun. You will not fire the house then? Thier. Rather reward the author who gave cause Of knowing such a secret, my oath and duty Shall be assurance on't. Brun. Protaldye, rise good faithful servant, heaven knows How hardly he was drawn to this attempt.

Thier. Protaldye? he had a Gard'ners fa[t]e I'll swear: [F]ell by thy hand, Sir, we doe owe unto you for this service. Brun. Why lookest thou so dejected?

Prot. I want a little shift, Lady, nothing else. Mart. The fires are ready, please it your grace withdraw, Whilst we perform your pleasure. Thier. Reserve them for the body; since he had the fate To live and die a Prince, he shall not lose The Title in his Funeral. [Exit. Mart. His fate to live a Prince, Thou old impiety, made up by lust and mischief, Take up the body. [Exeunt with the body of Theod.

Ser. You are so far 'bove likeness, you are the same, If you love mirth, perswade him from himself. 'Tis but an Astronomer out of the way, And lying, will bear the better place for't. Lecure. I have profitabler use in hand, haste to the Queen And tell her how you left me chang'd. [Exit Servant. Who would not serve this virtuous active Queen? She that loves mischief 'bove the man that does it, And him above her pleasure, yet knows no heaven else.

Thier. How well this loan[es] suits the Art I seek, Discovering secret, and succeeding Fate, Knowledge that puts all lower happiness on, With a remiss and careless hand, Fair peace unto your meditations, father. Lecure. The same to you, you bring, Sir. Thier. Drawn by your much fam'd skill, I come to know Whether the man who owes [t]his character, Shall e'er have issue. Lecure. A resolution falling with most ease, Of any doubt you could have nam'd, he is a Prince Whose fortune you enquire. Thie. He is nobly born. Lecure. He had a Dukedom lately fall'n unto him, By one, call'd Brother, who has left a Daughter. Thier. The question is, of Heirs, not Lands. Lecure. Heirs, yes, he shall have Heirs. Thier. Begotten of his body, why look'st thou pale? Thou canst not suffer in his want. Lecure. Nor thou, I neither can nor will Give farther knowledge to thee. Thier. Thou must, I am the man my self, Thy Sovereign, who must owe unto thy wisdom In the concealing of my barren shame. Lecure. Your Grace doth wrong your Stars; if this be yours, You may have children. Thier. Speak it again. Lecure. You may have fruitful issue. Thier. By whom? when? how? Lecure. It was the fatal means first struck my bloud With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it Printed upon your birth. Thier. Can there be any way unsmooth, has end So fair and good? Lecure. We that behold the sad aspects of Heaven, Leading sence blinded, men feel grief enough To know, though not to speak their miseries. Thier. Sorrow must lose a name, where mine finds life; If not in thee, at least ease pain with speed, Which must know no cure else. Lecure. Then thus, The first of Females which your eye shall meet Before the Sun next rise, coming from out The Temple of Diana being slain, you live Father of many sons. Thier. Call'st thou this sadness, can I beget a Son? Deserving less than to give recompence Unto so poor a loss? what e'er thou art, Rest peaceable blest creature, born to be Mother of Princes, whose grave shall be more fruitful Than others marriage beds: methinks his Art Should give her form and happy figure to me, I long to see my happiness, he is gone, As I remember, he nam'd my brothers Daughter, Were it my Mother, 'twere a gainful death Could give Ordella's virtue living breath. [Exeunt.

Mart. Your Grace is early stirring. Thier. How can he sleep, Whose happiness is laid up in an hour He knows comes stealing towar[d] him, Oh Martel! Is't possible the longing Bride, whose wishes Out-runs her fears, can on that day she is married Consume in slumbers, or his Arms rust in ease, That hears the charge, and sees the honor'd purchase Ready to [gild] his valour? Mine is more A power above these passions; this day France, France that in want of issue withers with us; And like an aged River, runs his head Into forgotten ways, again I ransome, And his fair course turn right: this day Thierry, The Son of France, whose manly powers like prisoners Have been tied up, and fetter'd, by one death Give life to thousand ages; this day beauty The envy of the world, Pleasure the glory, Content above the world, desire beyond it Are made mine own, and useful. Mart. Happy Woman That dies to do these things. Thier. But ten times happier That lives to do the greater; oh Martel, The gods have heard me now, and those that scorn'd me, Mothers of many children, and blest fathers That see their issues like the Stars un-number'd, Their comfort more than them, shall in my praises Now teach their Infants songs; and tell their ages From such a Son of mine, or such a Queen, That chaste Ordella brings me blessed marriage The chain that links two Holy Loves together And in the marriage, more than blest Ordella, That comes so near the Sacrament it self, The Priests doubt whether purer. Mart. Sir, y'are lost. Thier. I prethee let me be so. Mart. The day wears, And those that have been offering early prayers, Are now retiring homeward. Thier. Stand and mark then. Mart. Is it the first must suffer. Thier. The first Woman. Mart. What hand shall do it, Sir? Thier. This hand Martell, For who less dare presume to give the gods An incense of this offering? Mart. Would I were she, For such a way to die, and such a blessing Can never crown my parting.

Thier. What are those? Mart. Men, men, Sir, men. Thier. The plagues of men light on 'em, They cross my hopes like Hares, who's that?

Mart. A Priest, Sir. Thier. Would he were gelt. Mart. May not these rascals serve, Sir, Well hang'd and quarter'd? Thier. No. Mart. Here comes a woman.

Thier. Stand and behold her then. Mart. I think a fair one. Thier. Move not whilst I prepare her: may her peace Like his whose innocence the gods are pleas'd with, And offering at their Altars, gives his soul Far purer than those fires; pull heaven upon her, You holy powers, no humane spot dwell in her, No love of any thing, but you and goodness, Tie her to earth, fear be a stranger to her, And all weak blouds affections, but thy hope Let her bequeath to Women: hear me heaven, Give her a spirit masculine, and noble, Fit for your selves to ask, and me to offer. Oh let her meet my blow, doat on her death; And as a wanton Vine bows to the pruner, That by his cutting off, more may increase, So let her fall to raise me fruit; hail woman. The happiest, and the best (if the dull Will Do not abuse thy fortune) France e'er found yet. Ordel. Sh' is more than dull, Sir, less, and worse than Woman, That may inherit such an infinite As you propound, a greatness so near goodness; And brings a Will to rob her. Thier. Tell me this then, Was there e'er woman yet, or may be found, That for fair Fame, unspotted memory, For virtues sake, and only for it self sake Has, or dare make a story? Ordel. Many dead Sir, Living I thin[ke] as many. Thier. Say, the kingdom May from a womans Will receive a blessing, The King and kingdom, not a private safety. A general blessing, Lady. Ordel. A general curse Light on her heart, denies it. Thier. Full of honor; And such examples as the former ages Were but dim shadows of, and empty figures. Ordel. You strangely stir me, Sir, and were my weakness In any other flesh but modest womans, You should not ask more questions, may I do it? Thier. You may, and which is more, you must. Ordel. I joy in't, Above a moderate gladness, Sir, you promise It shall be honest. Thier. As ever time discover'd. Ordel. Let it be what it may then, what it dare, I have a mind will hazard it. Thier. But hark ye, What may that woman merit, makes this blessing! Ordel. Only her duty, Sir. Thier. 'Tis terrible. Ordel. 'Tis so much the more noble. Thier. 'Tis full of fearful shadows. Ordel. So is sleep, Sir. Or any thing that's meerly ours, and mortal, We were begotten gods else; but those fears Feeling but once the fires of nobler thoughts, Flie, like the shapes of clouds we form, to nothing. Thier. Suppose it death. Ordel. I do. Thier. And endless parting With all we can call ours, with all our sweetness, With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time, nay reason: For in the silent grave, no conversation, No joyful tread of friends, no voice of Lovers, No careful Fathers counsel, nothing's h[e]ard, Nor nothing is, but all oblivion, Dust and an endless darkness, and dare you woman Desire this place? Ord[e]l. 'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest, Children begin it to us, strong men seek it, And Kings from heighth of all their painted glories Fall like spent exhalations, to this centre: And those are fools that fear it, or imagine A few unhandsome pleasures, or lifes profits Can recompence this place; and mad that staies it, Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humors, Bring them dispers'd to th' earth. Thier. Then you can suffer? Ordel. As willingly as say it. Thier. Martell, a wonder, Here's a woman that dares die, yet tell me, Are you a Wife? Ordel. I am Sir. Thier. And have children? She sighs and weeps. Ordel. Oh none Sir. Thier. Dare you venture For a poor barren praise you ne'er shall hear, To part with these sweet hopes? Ordel. With all but Heaven, And yet die full of children; he that reads me When I am ashes, is my Son in wishes, And those chaste dames that keep my memory, Singing my yearly requiems, are my Daughters. Thier. Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledg[e]. And what I must doe, Lady? Ordel. You are the King, Sir, And what you do I'll suffer, and that blessing That you desire, the gods showr on the Kingdom. Thier. Thus much before I strike then, for I must kill you, The gods have will'd it so, they're made the blessing Must make France young again, and me a man, Keep up your strength still nobly. Ordel. Fear me not. Thier. And meet death like a measure. Ordel. I am stedfast. Thier. Thou shalt be sainted woman, and thy Tomb Cut out in Chrystal, pure and good as thou art; And on it shall be graven every age, Succeeding Peers of France that rise by thy fall, Tell thou liest there like old and fruitful nature. Darest thou behold thy happiness? Ordel. I dare Sir. Thier. Ha? [Pul[l]s off her veil, lets fall his sword. Mar. Oh Sir, you must not doe it. Thier. No, I dare not. There is an Angel keeps that Paradice, A fiery Angel friend; oh virtue, virtue, Ever and endless virtue. Ordel. Strike, Sir, strike; And if in my poor death fair France may merit, Give me a thousand blows, be killing me A thousand days. Thier. First let the earth be barren, And man no more remembred, rise Ordella, The nearest to thy maker, and the purest That ever dull flesh shewed us,—oh my heart-strings. [Exit. Mart. I see you full of wonder, therefore noblest, And truest amongst Women, I will tell you The end of this strange accident. Ordel. Amazement Has so much wove upon my heart, that truly I feel my self unfit to hear, oh Sir, My Lord has slighted me. Mart. Oh no sweet Lady. Ordel. Robb'd me of such a glory by his pity, And most unprovident respect. Mart. Dear Lady, It was not meant to you. Ordel. Else where the day is, And hours distinguish time, time runs to ages, And ages end the world, I had been spoken. [Mart.] I'll tell you what it was, if but your patience Will give me hearing. Ordel. If I have transgrest, Forgive me, Sir. Mart. Your noble Lord was counsel'd, Grieving the barrenness between you both, And all the Kingdom with him, to seek out A man that knew the secrets of the gods, He went, found such [a] one, and had this answer, That if he wou'd have issue, on this morning, For this hour was prefixt him, he should kill The first he met, being Female, from the Temple; And then he should have children, the mistake Is now too perfect, Lady. Ordel. Still 'tis I, Sir, For may this work be done by common women? Durst any but my self that knew the blessing, And felt the benefit, assume this [dying] In any other, 't'ad been lost, and nothing, A curse and not a blessing; I was figur'd; And shall a little fondness barr my purchase? Mart. Where should he then seek children? Ordel. Where they are In wombs ordain'd for issues, in those beauties That bless a marriage-bed, and makes it proceed With kisses that conceive, and fruitful pleasures; Mine like a grave, buries those loyal hopes, And to a grave it covets. Mart. You are too good, Too excellent, too honest; rob not us And those that shall hereafter seek example, Of such inestimable worthies in woman. Your Lord of such obedience, all of honor In coveting a cruelty is not yours, A Will short of your Wisdom; make not error A Tomb-stone of your virtues, whose fair life Deserves a constellation: your Lord dare not; He cannot, ought not, must not run this hazard, He makes a separation, nature shakes at, The gods deny, and everlasting justice Shrinks back, and sheaths her sword at. Ordel. All's but talk, Sir, I find to what I am reserv'd, and needful, And though my Lord's compassion makes me poor, And leaves me in my best use, yet a strength Above mine own, or his dull fondness finds me; The gods have given it to me. [Draws a knife. Mart. Self-destruction! Now all good Angels bless thee, oh sweet Lady, You are abus'd, this is a way to shame you, And with you all that knows you, all that loves you, To ruin all you build, would you be famous? Is that your end? Ordel. I would be what I should be. Mart. Live and confirm the gods then, live and be loaden With more than Olive[s]bear, or fruitful Autumn; This way you kill your merit, kill your cause, And him you would raise life to, where, or how Got you these bloudy thoughts? what Devil durst Look on that Angel face, and tempt? doe you know What is't to die thus, how you strike the Stars, And all good things above, do you feel What follows a self-bloud, whether you venture, And to what punishment? excellent Lady, Be not thus cozen'd, do not fool your self, The Priest was never his own sacrifice, But he that thought his hell here. Ordel. I am counsell'd. Mart. And I am glad on't, lie, I know you dare not. Ordel. I never have done yet. Mart. Pray take my comfort, Was this a soul to lose? two more such women Would save their sex; see, she repents and prayes, Oh hear her, hear her, if there be a faith Able to reach your mercies, she hath sent it. Ordel. Now good Martel confirm me. Mart. I will Lady, And every hour advise you, for I doubt Whether this plot be heavens, or hells; your mother And I will find it, if it be in mankind To search the center of it: in the mean time I'll give you out for dead, and by your self, And shew the instrument, so shall I find A joy that will betray her. Ordel. Do what's fittest; And I will follow you. Mart. Then ever live Both able to engross all love, and give. [Exeunt.

Brun. I'm in labour To be deliver'd of that burthenous project I have so long gone with; ha, here's the Midwife, Or life, or death.

Lecu. If in the supposition Of her death in whose life you die, you ask me, I think you are safe. Brun. Is she dead? Lecu. I have us'd All means to make her so, I saw him waiting At the Temple door, and us'd such Art within, That only she of all her Sex was first Giv'n up unto his fury. Brun. Which if love Or fear made him forbear to execute The vengeance he determin'd, his fond pity Shall draw it on himself, for were there left Not any man but he, to serve my pleasures, Or from me to receive commands, which are The joyes for which I love life, he should be Remov'd, and I alone left to be Queen O'er any part of goodness that's left in me. Lecu. If you are so resolv'd, I have provided A means to s[h]ip him hence: look upon this, But touch it sparingly, for this once us'd, Say but to dry a tear, will keep the eye-lid From closing, until death perform that office. Brun. Give't me, I may have use [of 't], and on you I'll make the first experiment: if one sigh Or heavy look beget the least suspition, Childish compassion can thaw the Ice Of your so long congeal'd and flinty hardness. Slight, go on constant, or I shall. Prot. Best Lady, We have no faculties which are not yours. Lecu. Nor will be any thing without you. B[r]un. Be so, and we will stand or fall together, for Since we have gone so far, that death must stay The journey, which we wish should never end; And innocent, or guilty, we must die, When we do so, let's know the reason why.

Lecu. The King. Thier. We'll be alone. Prot. I would I had A Convoy too, to bring me safe off. For rage although it be allai'd with sorrow, Appears so dreadful in him, that I shake To look upon't. Brun. Coward I will meet it, And know from whence 't has birth: Son, kingly Thierry. Thier. Is cheating grown so common among men? And thrives so well here, that the gods endeavour To practise it above? Brun. Your Mother. Thier. Ha! or are they only careful to revenge, Not to reward? or when, for your offences We study satisfaction, must the cure Be worse than the disease? Brun. Will you not hear me? Thier. To lose th' ability to perform those duties For which I entertain'd the name of Husband, Ask'd more than common sorrow; but t'impose For the redress of that defect, a torture In marking her to death, for whom alone I felt that weakness as a want, requires More than the making the head bald: or falling Thus flat upon the earth, or cursing that way, Or praying this, oh such a Scene of grief, And so set down, (the world the stage to act on) May challenge a Tragedian better practis'd Than I am to express it; for my cause Of passion is so strong, and my performance So weak, that though the part be good, I fear Th'ill acting of it, will defraud it of The poor reward it may deserve, mens pity. Brun. I have given you way thus long, a King, and what Is more, my Son, and yet a slave to that Which only triumphs over cowards sorrow, For shame look up. Thier. Is't you, look down on me: And if that you are capable to receive it, Let that return to you, that have brought forth One mark'd out only for it: what are these? Come they upon your privilege to tread on The Tomb of my afflictions? Prot. No, not we Sir. Thier. How dare you then omit the ceremony Due to the funeral of all my hopes, Or come unto the marriage of my sorrows, But in such colours as may sort with them? Prot. Alas; we will wear any thing. Brun. This is madness Take but my counsel. Thier. Yours? dare you again Though arm'd with th' authority of a mother, Attempt the danger that will fall on you If such another syllable awake it? Goe, and with yours be safe, I have such cause Of grief, nay more, to love it, that I will not Have such as these be sharers in it. Lecu. Madam. Prot. Another time were better. Brun. Do not sti[r], For I must be resolv'd, and will, be statues.

Thier. I, thou art welcome, and upon my soul Thou art an honest man, do you see, he has tears To lend to him whom prodigal expence Of sorrow, has made bankrupt of such treasure, Nay, thou dost well. Mart. I would it might excuse The ill I bring along. Thier. Thou mak'st me smile I[n] the heighth of my calamities, as if There could be the addition of an Atome, To the gyant-body of my miseries. But try, for I will hear thee, all sit down, 'tis death To any that shall dare to interrupt him In look, gesture, or word. Mart. And such attention As is due to the last, and the best story That ever was deliver'd, will become you, The griev'd Ordella, (for all other titles But take away from that) having from me Prompted by your last parting groan, enquir'd, What drew it from you, and the cause soon learn'd: For she whom barbarism could deny nothing, With such prevailing earnestness desir'd it, 'Twas not in me, though it had been my death, To hide it from her, she I say, in whom All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta, Have registred for good in their best Women: But nothing of their ill, knowing her self Mark'd out, (I know not by what power, but sure A cruel one) to dye, to give you children; Having first with a setled countenance Look'd up to Heaven, and then upon her self, (It being the next best object) and then smil'd, As if her joy in death to do you service, Would break forth, in despight of the much sorrow She shew'd she had to leave you: and then taking Me by the hand, this hand which I must ever Love better than I have done, since she touch'd it, Go said she, to my Lord, (and to goe to him Is such a happiness I must not hope for) And tell him that he too much priz'd a trifle Made only worthy in his love, and her Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob The Orphan Kingdom of such guardians, as Must of necessity descend [from] him; And therefore in some part of recompence Of his much love, and to shew to the world That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate, That did deny to let her be the mother Of such most certain blessings: yet for proof, She did not envy her, that happy her, That is appointed to them, her [q]uick end Should make way for her, which no sooner spoke, But in a moment this too ready engine Made such a battery in the choisest Castle That ever nature made to defend life, That strait it shook, and sunk. Thier. Stay, dares any Presume to shed a tear before me? or Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit: To do so for her? I have done, now on. Mart. Fall'n thus, once more she smil'd, as if that death For her had studied a new way to sever The soul and body, without sense of pain; And then tell him (quoth she) what you have seen, And with what willingness 'twas done: for which My last request unto him is, that he Would instantly make choice of one (most happy In being so chosen) to supply my place, By whom if heaven bless him with a daughter, In my remembrance let it bear my name Which said she dy'd. Thier. I hear this, and yet live; Heart! art thou thunder proof, will nothing break thee? She's dead, and what her entertainment may be In th'other world without me is uncertain, And dare I stay here unresolv'd? Mart. Oh Sir! Brun. Dear son. Prot. Great King. Thier. Unhand me, am I fall'n So low, that I have lost the power to be Disposer of my own life? Mart. Be but pleas'd To borrow so much time of sorrow, as To call to mind her last request, for whom (I must confess a loss beyond expression) You turn your hand upon your self, 'twas hers And dying hers, that you should live and happy In seeing little models of your self, By matching with another, and will you Leave any thing that she desir'd ungranted? And suffer such a life that was [l]aid down For your sake only to be fruitless? Thier. Oh thou dost throw charms upon me, against which I cannot stop my ears, bear witness heaven That not desire of life, nor love of pleasure[s] Nor any future comforts, but to give Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying Her last demand, makes me defer our meeting, Which in my choice, and suddain choice shall be To all apparent. Brun. How? doe I remove one mischief To draw upon my head a greater? Thier. Go, thou only good man, to whom for her self Goodness is dear, and prepare to interr it In her that was; oh my heart! my Ordella, A monument worthy to be the casket Of such a jewel. Mart. Your command that makes way Unto my absence is a welcome one, For but your self there's nothing here Martel, Can take delight to look on; yet some comfort Goes back with me to her, who though she want it Deserves all blessings. [Exit. Brun. So soon to forget The loss of such a wife, believe it will Be censur'd in the world. Thier. Pray you no more, There is no arg[u]ment you can use to cross it, But does increase in me such a suspition I would not cherish—who's that?

Memb. One, no guard Can put back from access, whose tongue no threats Nor praises can silence, a bold suitor, and For that which if you are your self, a King, You were made so to grant it, Justice, Justice. Thier. With what assurance dare you hope for that Which is deny'd to me? or how can I Stand bound to be just, unto such as are Beneath me, that find none from those that are Above me? Memb. There is justice, 'twere unfit That any thing but vengeance should fall on him, That by his giving way to more than murther, (For my dear fathers death was parricide) Makes it his own. Brun. I charge you hear her not. Memb. Hell cannot stop just prayers from ent'ring heaven, I must and will be heard Sir; but remember That he that by her plot fell, was your brother, And the place where, your Palace, against all Th' inviolable rites of hospitality, Your word, a Kings word, given up for his safety, His innocence, his protection, and the gods Bound to revenge the impious breach of such So great and sacred bonds; and can you wonder, (That in not punishing such a horrid murther You did it) that heavens favour is gone from you? Which never will return, until his bloud Be wash'd away in hers. Brun. Drag hence the wretch. Thier. Forbear, with what variety Of torments do I meet! oh thou hast open'd A Book, in which writ down in bloudy Letters, My conscience finds that I am worthy of More than I undergoe, but I'll begin For my Ordella's sake, and for thine own To make less heavens great anger: thou hast lost A father, I to thee am so; the hope Of a good Husband, in me have one; nor Be fearful I am still no man, already That weakness is gone from me. Brun. That it might [Aside. Have ever grown inseparably upon thee, What will you do? Is such a thing as this Worthy the lov'd Ordella's place, the daughter Of a poor Gardener? Memb. Your Son. Thier. The power To take away that lowness is in me. Brun. Stay yet, for rather than [that] thou shalt add Incest unto thy other sins, I will With hazard of my own life, utter all, Theodoret was thy Brother. Thier. You deny'd it Upon your oath, nor will I now believe you, Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose. Memb. And for me, be assur'd the means to be Reveng'd on thee, vile hag, admits no thought, But what tends to it. Brun. Is it come to that? Then have at the last refuge: art thou grown Insensible in [i]ll, that thou goest on Without the least compunction? there, take that To witness, that thou hadst a mother, which Foresaw thy cause of grief, and sad repentance, That so soon after blest Ordella's death Without a tear thou canst imbrace another, Forgetful man. Thier. Mine eyes when she is nam'd Cannot forget their tribute, and your gift Is not unuseful now. Lecu. He's past all cure, that only touch is death. Thier. This night I'll keep it, To morrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction.