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Clotair. You have done ill,
Clovis. Upon my knees I do acknowledge her
Aphelia. Arise :
Clovis. Farewell ;
Clovis, she's mine ; let not your spirit war
[Breaks the ring.
[The king, CLOTAIR, pulls him
(Born, 1596. Died, 1606.)
JAMES SHIRLEY was born in London. He was theatres were now shut, kept a school in Whiteeducated at Cambridge*, where he took the friars, where he educated many eminent characdegree of A.M. and had a curacy for some time ters. At the re-opening of the theatres he must at or near St. Alban's, but embracing popery,
have been too old to have renewed his dramatic became a schoolmaster  in that town.
labours; and what benefit the Restoration Leaving this employment, he settled in London brought him as a royalist, we are not informed. as a dramatic writer, and between the years 1625
Both he and his wife died on the same day, imand 1666 published thirty-nine plays. In the mediately after the great fire of London, by which civil wars he followed his patron, the Earl of they had been driven out of their house, and proNewcastle, to the field; but on the decline of bably owed their deaths to their losses and terror the royal cause returned to London, and, as the on that occasiont.
Persons--The Duchess RoSAURA and her ladies VALERIA
Valeria. Sweet madam, be less thoughtful ;
* He had studied also at Oxford, where Wood says thati Laud objected to his taking orders, on account of a mole on his left cheek, which greatly disfigured him. This fastidiousness about personal beauty is certainly beyond the Levitical law. (As no mention of Shirley occurs in any of the public records of Oxford, the duration of his residence at St. John's College cannot be determined.--DYCE's Life, p. v.]
The joys that wait upon the court—your birth,
Duch. Ladies, I thank you both.
pray excuse a little melancholy
[+ Shirley was the last of a great race, all of whom spoko nearly the same language, and had a set of moral feelings and notions in common. A new language, and quite a new turn of tragic and comic interest, came in with the Restoration.-LAMB.]
To entertain more pleasing thoughts, and if
FROM THE SAME.
The Duchess's Conference with Alvarez.
Sec. The Count D’Alvarez, madam.
Duch. Admit him,
And let none interrupt us. (Exit Sec.] How shall I Who has thy vote for the most handsome man.
Behave my looks ? the guilt of my neglect, Thus I must counterfeit a peace, when all (Aside.
Which had no seal from hence, will call up blood Within me is at mutiny.
To write upon my cheeks the shame and story
In some red letter.
To know what your commands are. Duch. No, no ; speak freely.
Duch. Where I once Val. I will not rack your patience, madam, but Did promise love, a love that had the power Were I a princess, I should think Count D’Alvarez And office of a priest, to chain my heart Had sweetness to deserve me from the world. To yours, it were injustice to command. Duch. Alvarez ! she's a spy upon my heart. D'Alv. But I can look upon you, madam, as
[Aside. Becomes a servant, with as much humility. Val. He's young and active, and composed In tenderness of your honour and great fortune, most sweetly.
Give up, when you call back your bounty, all that Duch. I have seen a face more tempting. Was mine, as I had pride to think them favours. Val. It had then
Duch. Hath love taught thee no more assurToo much of woman in't; his eyes speak movingly,
ance in Which may excuse his voice, and lead away Our mutual vows, thou canst suspect it possible All female pride his captive. His black hair,
I should revoke a promise made to heaven Which naturally falling into curls
And thee, so soon? This must arise from some Duch. Prithee no more, thou art in love with him.
Distrust of thy own faith.
D'Alv. Your grace's pardon :
In cunning to betray, nor young in time
Not to see where and when I am at loss, Another may delight a lady more,
And how to bear my fortune and my wounds ; If man be well consider'd, that's Columbo, Which, if I look for health, must still bleed inward, Now, madam, voted to be yours.
A hard and desperate condition. Duch. My torment !
I am not ignorant your birth and greatness Val. She affects him not.
Have placed you to grow up with the king's grace Cel. He has a person and a bravery beyond And jealousy, which to remove his power All men that I observe.
Hath chosen a fit object for your beauty Val. He is a soldier,
To shine upon-Columbo, his great favourite. A rough-hewn man, and may show well at distance; | I am a man on whom but late the king His talk will fright a lady : war and grim
Has pleased to cast a beam, which was not meant Faced Honour are his mistresses-he raves
To make me proud, but wisely to direct To hear a lute-Love meant him not his priest.
And light me to my safety. Oh, dear madam, Again your pardon, madam : we may talk,
I will not call more witness of my love, But you have art to choose and crown affection.
If you will let me still give it that name, [Excunt.
Than this, that I dare make myself a loser, Duch. What is it to be born above these ladies,
And to your will give all my blessings up. And want their freedom? They are not constrain’d, Preserve your greatness, and forget a trifle, Nor slaved by their own greatness, or the king's, That shall at best, when you have drawn me up, But let their free hearts look abroad and choose
But hang about you like a cloud, and dim By their own eyes to love. I must repair
The glories you are born to. My poor afflicted bosom, and assume
Duch. Misery The privilege I was born with, which now prompts
Of birth and state! that I could shift into To tell the king he hath no power nor art [me
A meaner blood, or find some art to purge
That part which makes my veins unequal. Yet
Thy stock partakes as much of noble sap
Card. What lethargy could thus unspirit him?
To honour and yourself, than thus to forfeit
What I have heard him call the glorious wreath
To all his merits, given him by the king,
Exchanged religious farewell, to return
But with more triumph to be yours.
Duch. My lord,
You do believe your nephew's hand was not
Card. Strange arts and windings in the world-
Card. Desert and honour urged it here, nor can
I blame you to be angry; yet his person
Obliged you should have given a nobler pause
your faith and change so violent Find out the way to death ?
From his known worth, into the arms of one,
However fashion’d to your amorous wish,
The gloss of blood and merit.
Duch. This comparison,
My good lord cardinal, I cannot think
Fall to the censure of unruly tongues.
Spend half a day with looking in the glass
Duch. My heart is in a mist ; some good star Or honour, to your bed-must he supplant him ?
[smile | Take heed, the common murmur, when it catches
Duch. My fame, lord cardinal !
At my next shrift.
Card. You are a fine court lady.
Duch. And you should be a reverend churchman. renounce her, and has received an answer from the camp, Card. One that, if you have not thrown off mocomplying with the request.
Would counsel you to leave Alvarez. [desty,
Duch. 'Cause you dare do worse
Than marriage, must not I be admitted what
Card. Insolent ! then you dare marry him? Duch. 'Tis easy to interpret.
Duch. Dare ! let your contracted flame and Card. From my nephew. May I deserve the malice, with favour?
[Gives him the letter. Columbo's rage higher than that, meet us Duch. He looks as though his eyes would fire when we approach the holy place, clasp'd hand the paper ;
In hand, -we'll breakthrough all your force, and fix
Our sacred vows together there.
Card. I knew
FROM THE SAME.
A riddle in't
When with as chaste a brow you promised fair To doubt. I must be plain ; Florence has not To another-You are no dissembling lady. Been kind to Naples to reward us with
Duch. Would all your actions had no falser lights Affront for love ; and Theodosia must not About 'em
Be any prince's mockery. Card. Ha !
[loud. Duke. I can Duch. The people would not talk and curse so Take boldness too, and tell you, sir, it were Card. I'll have you chid into a blush for this. More for her honour she would mock no prince.
Duch. Begin at home, great man, there's cause I am not lost to Florence yet, though I You turn the wrong end of the perspective [enough. Be Naples' guest ; and I must tell him here, Upon your crimes to drive them to a far
I came to meet with fair and princely treaties And lesser sight; but let your eyes look right, Of love, not to be made the tale of Italy, What giants would your pride and surfeit seem, The ground of scurril pasquils, or the mirth How gross your avarice, eating up whole families. Of any lady who shall pre-engage How vast are your corruptions and abuse
Her heart to another's bosom, and then sneak Of a king's ear, at which you hang a pendant, Off like a tame despised property Not to adorn, but ulcerate ; whilst the honest When her ends are advanced. Nobility, like pictures in the arras,
King. I understand not Serve only for court-ornament : if they speak, This passion, yet it points at something 'Tis when you set their tongues, which you wind up That may be dangerous ; to conclude, Theodosia Like clocks to strike at the just hour you please. Is Naples' sister, and I must not see Leave, leave, my lord, these usurpations,
Her lost to honour, though my kingdom bleed And be what you were meant, a man to cure,
To rescue her. Not let in agues to religion.
Duke. Now you are passionate. Look on the church's wounds
This must be repair'd, my name is wounded, Card. You dare presume,
And my affection betray'd : your sister,
Duch. Alas! you give false aim, my lord; 'tis your Is fall’n, and by the scattering of her fires
Declares she has alliance with the earth, Her altar of the glory, and leave wounds
Not heavenly nature. Upon her brow which fetches grief and paleness King. Are my senses perfect ? Into her cheeks ; making her troubled bosom Be clearer, sir ; teach me to understand Pant with her groans, and shroud her holy blushes This prodigy. You do not scorn our sister ? Within your reverend purples.
Duke. Not I! as she has title to your blood, Card. Will you now take breath?
She merits all ambition ; she's a princess, Duch. In hope, my lord, you will behold yourself Yet no stain to her invention, we are parallels, In a true glass, and see those unjust acts
Equal, but never made to meet.
King. How's this ?
Her heart was given from me, though your power
King. Stay, and be advised; Must calm her fury. Were Columbo here And if your doubts, by some malicious tongue I could resolve,—but letters shall be sent
Framed to abuse iny sister and yourself, To th' army, which may wake him into sense llave raised this mutiny in your thoughts, I have Of his rash folly, or direct his spirit
A power to cure all. Some way to snatch his honour from this flame; Duke. Sir, you cannot. All great men know “ the soul of life is fame." King. Not to court thee for her husband, wert
possess'd Of all o'er which our eagle shakes his wings,
But to set right her honour ; and ere I challenge FROM "THE ROYAL MASTER."
Thee by thy birth, by all thy hopes and right
To fame to tell me what malicious breath The Duke of Florence being engaged to 'marry the sister
Has poison'd her, hear what my sister sends of the King of Naples, is treacherously led to distrust her character, and on showing symptoms of his disregard is
By me so late, Time is not old in minutes, thus called to account by the King.
The words yet warm with her own breath-Pray King. There's another
tell Whom though you can forget. My sister, sir,
The Duke, she says, although I know not from Deserves to be remember'd.
What root his discontents grow to devote him Duke. You are jealous
To Domitilla That I visit this lady.
Duke. How does she know that? [fancy; King. That were only
King. Whose beauty has more spell upon his
I did contract my heart when I thought his
Fosc. Your pardon, royal sir ; it will
Demonstrate the necessity of this
I come from Cleona. Let Naples do so too, for my revenge
Duke. From Cleona !
Duke. All this must not betray my freedom, sir. You would be just and noble in your answer.
Duke. I would not grieve you, sir, to hear what I Upon mine honour.
and press me not for your own peace; Fosc. Princes cannot stain it: Fames must be gently touch'd.
D'ye love her? King. As thou art Florence, speak.
Duke. Do I love her ? strange ! Duke. I shall displease,
Fosc. Nay, she would have you pause, and think Yet I but tell her brother that doth press me ;
well ere Lucrece was chaste after the rape, but where You give her resolution ; for she bade me tell you The blood consents there needs no ravisher. She has been much afflicted, since you left her,
King. I do grow faint with wonder. Here's About your love.
Fosc. I shall. So soon
Fosc. Willing to ease her head upon her couch,
Some spirit told her softly in her ear, Or slight intelligence that wounds a lady
You did but mock her with a smooth pretence In her dear honour. But she is my sister ;
Of love. Think of that too, credit not all, but ask
Duke. Ha ! Of thy own veins what guilty flowings there
Fosc. More : that you were fall’n from your May tempt thee to believe this accusation.
You would fly in and seize upon her honour.
Duke. I hope she hath no faith in dreams.
Fosc. And yet
Divinity hath oftentimes descended
Conversed with us, taught men and women happy Deserves my person and my sword, when you
Ways to prevent a tyrant's rage and lust. Vouchsafe so much addition to this honour,
Duke. But this was some false, malicious spirit, To call them to your service.
That would insinuate with her white soul : Duke. You are noble.
There's danger if she cherish the infusion. Fosc. It is not compliment, my lord, alone,
Fosc. She cannot tell, She hath some fears, Made me thus bold; I have a private message. Please you command their distance.
Great men have left examples of their vice, Duke. Wait without.
And yet no jealousy of you, but what Fosc. Have you forgot this face ?
A miracle doth urge, if this be one. Duke. Foscari's shadow.
If you but once more say you love Cleona, Fosc. The substance, sir, and once more at
And speak it unto me and to the angels, your feet.
[Why in Which in her prayers she hath invoked to hear you, Duke. Return'd to life ? rise, meet our arms.
She will be confident, and tell her dream
This cloud ;