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CARATACH, PRINCE OF THE BRITONS, WITH

HIS NEPHEW VENGO ASLEEP.

FROM SCENE III. ACT V. OF THE SAME.

And heav'n direct my hand ! Destruction
Go with thy coward soul! How dost thou, boy?
Oh! villain-

Hengo. Oh ! uncle, uncle !
Oh ! how it pricks me ; extremely pricks me.

Car. Coward rascal !
Dogs eat thy flesh!

Hengo. O, I bleed hard- I faint too-out upon't! How sick I am—the lean rogue, uncle !

Car. Look, boy, I've laid him sure enough.
Hengo. Have you knock'd out his brains ?
Car. I warrant thee, for stirring more. Cheer

up, child.

Car. SLEEP still, sleep sweetly, child; 'tis all thou

feed'st on : No gentle Briton near, no valiant charity To bring thee food. Poor knave, thou’rt sick, ex

treme sick, Almost grown wild for meat, and yet thy goodness Will not confess or show it. All the woods Are double lined with soldiers, no way left us To make a noble 'scape. I'll sit down by thee, And when thou wakest either get meat to save thee, Or lose my life i'the purchase. Good gods comfort

thee !

Enter CARATAch and HENGO on the rock.
Car. Courage, my boy, I've found meat : look,

Hengo,
Look, where some blessed Briton, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink. Cheer up, boy!
Do not forsake me now.

Hengo. Oh! uncle, uncle, I feel I cannot stay long ; yet I'll fetch it To keep your noble life. Uncle, I'm heart whole, And would live.

Car. Thou shalt, long, I hope.

Hengo. But-my head, uncle-
Methinks the rock goes round.

Enter MACER and JUDAS, Romans.
Macer. Mark 'em well, Judas.
Judas. Peace, as you love your life.

Hengo. Do not you hear
The noise of bells ?

Car. Of bells, boy ? 'tis thy fancy. Alas! thy body's full of wind.

Hengo. Methinks, sir, They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation | To some near funeral of state. Nay, weep not. 1 Car. Oh! my poor chicken.

Hengo. Fye, faint-hearted uncle ; | Come, tie me in your belt, and let me down.

Car. I'll go myself, boy.

Hengo. No; as you love me, uncle,
I will not eat it if I do not fetch it,
The danger only I desire; pray tie me.

Car. I will, and all my care hang o'er thee. My valiant child.

[Come, child, Hengo. Let me down

apace, uncle, And you shall see how like a daw I'll whip it From all their policies ; for 'tis most certain A Roman train. And you must hold me sure too, You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it, We'll be as merry

[uncle,
Car. Go i'the name of heav'n, boy.
Hengo. Quick, quick, uncle, I have it. Oh!

(JUDAs shoots HENGO.
Car. What ail'st thou ?
Hengo. Ob! my best uncle, I am slain.
Car. I see you

(Kills Judas with a stone.

Hengo. Hold my sides hard ; stop, stop ; oh!

wretched fortuneMust we part thus ? Still I grow sicker, uncle.

Car. Heav'n look upon this noble child.

Hengo. I once hoped I should have lived to have met these bloody Romans At my sword's point, to have revenged my father, To have beaten 'em.-Oh! hold me hard :—but,

uncleCar. Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I

draw it?
Hengo. You draw away my soul then. I would
A little longer (spare me, heav'n !) but only (live
To thank you for your tender love, good uncle.
Good, noble uncle, weep not.

Car. Oh! my chicken !
My dear boy! what shall I lose ?

Hengo. Why, a child,
That must have died however, had this 'scaped me,
Fever or famine. I was born to die, sir.

Car. But thus unblown, my boy

Hengo. I go the straighter My journey to the gods. Sure I shall know you When you come, my uncle.

Car. Yes, boy.

Hengo. And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.

Car. Most certain, child.

Hengo. I grow cold; Mine eyes are going.

Car. Lift 'em up.

Hengo. Pray for me.
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little nephew. Mercy!

Car. Mercy! You blessed angels take him.

Hengo. Kiss me! so— Farewell ! farewell !

[Dies. Car. Farewell the hopes of Britain ! Thou royal graft, farewell for ever! Time and

Death, You've done your worst.–Fortune, now see, now

proudly Pluck off thy veil, and view thy triumph. Look, Look what th' hast brought this land to. Oh ! fair

flower, How lovely yet thy ruins show! how sweetly Ev'n death embraces thee! The peace of heav'nThe fellowship of all good souls be with thee!

FROM THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY.

fort you ;

FROM THE SAME.

Fitting a vestal nun; not long to kiss you, NO RIVALSHIP OR TAINT OF FAITH ADMIS

But gently as the air, and undiscern'd too,

I'll steal it thus. I'll walk your shadow by you, SIBLE IN LOVE.

So still and silent, that it shall be equal

To put me off as that.
ZENOCIA to ARNOLDO.
Should you lay by the least part of that love
You've sworn is mine, your youth and faith have
To entertain another, nay, a fairer, [given me,

SCENE IN THE COMEDY OF MONSIEUR

THOMAS And make the case thus desperate, she must die also ; D'ye think I would give way, or count this honest ? Valentine having formed the noble resolution of giving Be not deceived; these eyes should never see you

up his mistress Cellide to preserve the life of his friend

Francis, who is in love with her, is supposed to hear more,

the following dialogue, unknown to Francis. This tongue forget to name you, and this heart

Francis. Bless me, what beams Hate you as if you were born my full antipathy :

Flew from those angel eyes ! Oh, what a misery, Empire and more imperious love alone

What a most studied torment 'tis to me now Rule and admit no rivals. The pure springs,

To be an honest man ! Dare you sit by me ? When they are courted by lascivious land-floods,

Cellide. Yes, and do more than that too-comTheir maiden sweetness and their coolness perish; And though they purge again to their first beauty, I see you've need. The sweetness of their taste is clean departed.

Fran. You are a fair physician ; I must have all or none; and am not worthy

You bring no bitterness, gilt o’er, to gull us, Longer the noble name of wife, Arnoldo,

No danger in your looks: yet there my death lies! Than I can bring a whole heart pure and handsome.

Cel. I would be sorry, sir, my charity,
And my good wishes for your health, should merit

So stubborn a construction. Will it please you
ARNOLDO TEMPTED BY HYPOLITA.

To taste a little of this cordial ?

[Enter VALENTINE privately.

For this I think must cure you. drn. Fy! stand off ;

Fran. Of which, lady ?And give me leave more now than e'er to wonder | Sureshe has found my grief.—Why do you blush so? A building of so goodly a proportion,

Cel. Do you not understand ? of this_this cordial. Outwardly all exact, the frame of heaven,

Valentine. Oh, my afflicted heart ! she's gone Should hide within so base inhabitants.

for ever You are as fair as if the morning bare you,

Fran. What heaven you have brought me, lady! Imagination never made a sweeter

Cel. Do not wonder:

For 'tis not impudence, nor want of honour, Be excellent in all as you are outward ;

Makes me do this ; but love to save your life, sir, The worthy mistress of those many blessings Your life, too excellent to lose in wishesHeav'n has bestow'd, make 'em appear still nobler, Love, virtuous love ! Because they're trusted to a weaker keeper

Fran. A virtuous blessing crown you ! Would you have me love you ?

Oh, goodly sweet! can there be so much charity, Hyp. Yes.

So noble a compassion in that heart, Arn. Not for your beauty ;

That's fill'd up with another's fair affections ? Though I confess it blows the first fire in us; Can mercy drop from those eyes ! Time as he passes by puts out that sparkle. Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man, Nor for your wealth, although the world kneel to it, When all the power you have, and perfect object, And make it all addition to a woman ;

Lies in another's light, and his deserves it! Fortune, that ruins all, make that his conquest. Cel. Do not despair ; nor do not think too boldly Be honest and be virtuous, l'll admire you ; I dare abuse my promise ; 'twas your friend's, At least be wise : and, where you lay these nets, And so fast tied, I thought no time could ruin ; Strew over them a little lesty,

But so much has your danger, and that spell, 'Twill well become your cause, and catch more fools. The powerful name of friend, prevail'd above him, Hyp. Could any one, that loved this wholesome To whom I ever owe obedience, counsel,

That here I am, by his command, to cure ye ; But love the giver more !-- You make me fonder. Nay more, for ever, by his full resignment; You have a virtuous mind—I want that ornament. And willingly I ratify it. Is it a sin, I covet to enjoy you ?

Fran. Hold, for heaven's sake! If you imagine I'm too free a lover,

Must my friend's misery make me a triumph ! And act that part belongs to you, I'm silent. Bear I that noble name to be a traitor! Mine eyes shall speak, my blushes parley with you;

d Valentine is supposed to remain undiscovered, and I will not touch your hand but with a tremble his speeches not to be heard by Francis and Cellide.

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Oh, virtuous goodness! keep thyself untainted : Oh, woman! perfect woman ! what distraction You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil ! Nor I to take-I am resolved to die first !

What an inviting hell invented !—Tell me, l'al. Ha! say'st thou so !-Nay, then thou shalt And if you yet remember what is goodness, not perish!

Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish’d, Fran. And though I love ye above the light shines So sainted in the soul of him, whose service on me ;

Is almost turn’d to superstition,
Peyond the wealth of kingdoms ; free content

Whose every day endeavours and desires
Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer'd, Offer themselves like incense on your altar,
Than at my pardon'd life, by the law forfeited. Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy
Yet-yet, oh, noble beauty !-yet, oh, paradise ! And most religious with his love, whose life
(For you are all the wonder reveald of it); (And let it ever be remember'd, lady !)
Yet is a gratitude to be preserved,

Is drawn out only for your ends
A worthy gratitude, to one most worthy

Val. Oh ! miracle ! The name and nobleness of friends!

Fran. Whose all and every part of man, (pray Cel. Pray tell me,

mark me!) If I had never known that gentleman,

Like ready pages, wait upon your pleasures, Would you not willingly embrace my offer? Whose breath is but your bubble-can you, dare you, Fran. D'you make a doubt?

Must you, cast off this man (though he were willing, Cel. And can you be unwilling,

Though, in a nobleness to cross my danger, | He being old and impotent ?-his aim, too, His friendship durst confirm it), without baseness,

Levell’d at you, for your good ; not constrain’d, Without the stain of honour?-Shall not people
But out of cure and counsel ?-Alas! consider ; Say liberally hereafter, “ There's the lady
Play but the woman with me, and consider, That lost her father, friend, herself, her faith too,
As he himself does, and I now dare see it-

To fawn upon a stranger,” for aught you know | Truly consider, sir, what misery

As faithless as yourself-in love, as fruitless ? Fran. For virtue's sake, take heed !

Val. Take her, with all my heart !—Thou art 1 Cel. What loss of youth,

so honest, What everlasting banishment from that

That 'tis most necessary I be undone. Our years do only covet to arrive at,

With all my soul possess her ! Equal affections, born and shot together !

Cel. Till this minute What living name can dead age leave behind him? I scorn'd and hated you, and came to cozen you ; What act of memory, but fruitless doting ? Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me, Fran. This cannot be.

To make you mad. Cel. To you, unless you apply it

Fran. Good heaven ! what is this woman? With more and firmer faith, and so digest it : Cel. Nor did your danger, but in charity, I speak but of things possible, not done,

Move me a whit ; nor you appear unto me Xor like to be ; a posset cures your sickness, More than a common object ; yet now, truly, And yet I know you grieve this; and howsoever Truly, and nobly, I do love you dearly, The worthiness of friend may make you stagger And from this hour you are the man I honour ; (Which is a fair thing in you), yet, my patient, You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, My gentle patient, I would fain say more, The only friend :--and I am glad your sickness If you would understand.

Fell so most happily at this time on you, l'al. Oh! cruel woman !

To make this truth the world's. i Cel. Yet, sure your sickness is not so forgetful, Fran. Whither d'you drive me? Sor you so willing to be lost !

Cel. Back to your honesty; make that good ever; Pran. Pray stay there ;

"Tis like a strong-built castle, seated high, Methinks you are not fair now ; methinks more, That draws on all ambitions ; still repair it, That modest virtue, men deliver'd of you,

Still fortify it; there are thousand foes, Shows but like shadow to me, thin and fading ! Besides the tyrant Beauty, will assail it : l'al. Excellent friend !

Look to your centinels, that watch it hourly ; 1 Fran. You have no share in goodness ; Your eyes—let them not wander ! You are belied ; you are not Cellide,

Fran. Is this serious,
The modest, the immaculate - Who are you? Or does she play still with me?
For I will know What devil, to do mischief Cel. Keep your ears,

l'nto my virtuous friend, hath shifted shapes The two main ports that may betray you, strongly | With that unblemish d beauty ?

From light belief first, then from flattery, Cel. Do not rave, sir,

Especially where woman beats the parley ; Nor let the violence of thoughts distract you ; The body of your strength, your noble heart, You shall enjoy me ; I am yours ; I pity, From ever yielding to dishonest ends, By those fair eyes, I do.

Ridged round about with virtue, that no breaches, Fran. Oh, double hearted !

No subtle mines, may meet you !

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ACT IV. .

SCENE IV.

cause

Fran. How like the sun

Pan. Alas, sir, am I venom ?
Labouring in his eclipse, dark and prodigious, Arb. Yes, to me ;
She show'd till now! When, having won his way, Though, of thyself, I think thee to be in
How full of wonder he breaks out again,

As equal a degree of heat or cold,
And sheds his virtuons beams ! Excellent angel ! As Nature can make : yet, as unsound men
(For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee.) Convert the sweetest and the nourishing'st meats
Honour of all thy sex ! let it be lawful

Into diseases, so shall 1, distemper'd, (And like a pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it,

Do thee : I pray thee, draw no nearer to me. Not with profane lips now, nor burnt affections,

Pan. Sir, this is that I would : I am of late But, reconciled to faith, with holy wishes,) Shut from the world, and why it should be thus To kiss that virgin hand !

Is all I wish to know.
Cel. Take your desire, sir,

Arb. Why, credit me,
And in a nobler way, for I dare trust you ;. Panthea, credit me, that am thy brother,
No other fruit my love must ever yield you, Thy loving brother, that there is a cause
I fear, no more!-Yet, your most constant memory Sufficient, yet unfit for thee to know,
(So much I'mn wedded to that worthiness)

That might undo thee everlastingly,
Shall ever be my friend, companion, husband ! Only to hear. Wilt thou but credit this?
Farewell ! and fairly govern your affections ; By Heaven, 'tis true : believe it, if thou canst.
Stand, and deceive me not!-Oh, noble young man ! Pan. Children and fools are very credulous,
I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it ! And I am both, I think, for I believe,
Once more, farewell, and prosper !-

If you dissemble, be it on your head !
I'll back unto my prison. Yet methinks,
I might be kept in some place where you are ;
For in myself, I find, I know not what

To call it, but it is a great desire
(FROM " A KING AND NO KING."

To see you often.

Arb. Fy, you come in a step ; what do you ARBACES, King of Iberia, reveals to PANTIKA, his sister,

mean ?
the criminality of his love for her.

Dear sister, do no so! Alas, Panthea,
An Apartment in the Palace.

Where I am would you be ? why, that's the Enter ARBACES at one door, and GOBRIAS with PANTHEA at another.

You are imprison'd, that you may not be Gob. Sir, here's the princess.

Where I am. Arb. Leave us, then, alone;

Pun. Then I must endure it, sir. For the main cause of her imprisonment

Heaven keep you ! Must not be heard by any but herself.

Arb. Nay, you shall hear the cause in short, (Exit GOBRIAS.

Panthea : You're welcome, sister ; and I would to Heaven And when thou hear'st it, thou wilt blush for me, I could so bid you by another name.

And hang thy head down like a violet
If you above love not such sins as these,

Full of the morning's dew. There is a way
Circle my heart with thoughts as cold as snow, To gain thy freedom ; but 'tis such a one
To quench these rising flames that harbour here. As puts thee in worse bondage, and I know

Pan. Sir, does it please you I shall speak ? Thou wouldst encounter fire, and make a proof
Arb. Please me?

Whether the gods have care of innocence, Ay, more than all the art of music can,

Rather than follow it : Know, that I have lost, Thy speech doth please me : for it ever sounds The only difference betwixt man and beast, As thou brought'st joyful unexpected news : My reason. And yet it is not fit thou should'st be heard ;

Pan. Heaven forbid ! I pray thee, think so.

Arb. Nay, it is gone ; Pan. Be it so: I will.

And I am left as far without a bound Am I the first that ever had a wrong

As the wild ocean that obeys the winds ; So far from being fit to have redress,

Each sudden passion throws me where it lists, That 'twas unfit to hear it? I will back

And overwhelms all that oppose my will. To prison, rather than disquiet you,

I have beheld thee with a lustful eye; And wait till it be fit.

My heart is set on wickedness, to act Arb. No, do not go ;

Such sins with thee, as I have been afraid For I will hear thee with a serious thought : To think of. If thou dar’st consent to this, I have collected all that's man about me

Which, I beseech thee, do not, thou may’st gain Together strongly, and I am resolved

Thy liberty, and yield me a content;
To hear thee largely : but I do beseech thee, If not, thy dwelling must be dark and close,
Do not come nearer me ; for there is

Where I may never see thee: for Heaven Something in that, that will undo us both.'

knows,

out me,

That laid this punishment upon my pride, Let 'em be seas, and I will drink 'em off,
Thy sight at some time will enforce my madness And yet have unquench'd fire left in my
To make a start e’en to thy ravishing.

breast :
Now spit upon me, and call all reproaches Let 'em be anything but merely voice.
Thou canst devise together, and at once

Pan. But 'tis not in the power of any force, Hurl 'em against me ; for I am a sickness Or policy, to conquer them. As killing as the plague, ready to seize thee.

Arb. Panthea,
Pan. Far be it from me to revile the king ! What shall we do? Shall we stand firmly here,
But it is true, that I shall rather choose

And gaze our eyes out?
To search out death, that else would search Pan. 'Would I could do so !

But I shall weep out mine.
And in a grave sleep with my innocence,

Arb. Accursed man, Than welcome such a sin. It is my fate;

Thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate ; To these cross accidents I was ordain'd,

For thou hast all thy actions bounded in And must have patience ; and, but that my eyes With curious rules, when every beast is free : Have more of woman in 'em than my heart, What is there that acknowledges a kindred, I would not weep. Peace enter you again! But wretched man? Who ever saw the bull

Arb. Farewell ; and, good Panthea, pray for me, Fearfully leave the heifer that he liked, (Thy prayers are pure) that I may find a death, Because they had one dam ? However soon, before my passions grow,

Pan. Sir, I disturb you That they forget what I desire is sin ;

And myself too ; 'twere better I were gone. For thither they are tending : if that happen, Arb. I will not be so foolish as I was ; Then I shall force thee, though thou wert a Stay, we will love just as becomes our births, virgin

No otherwise : brothers and sisters may By vow to Heaven, and shall pull a heap

Walk hand in hand together; so shall we. Of strange, yet uninvented, sin upon' me.

Come nearer : Is there any hurt in this? Pan. Sir, I will pray for you! yet you shall Pan. I hope not. know

Arb. 'Faith, there is none at all : It is a sullen fate that governs us :

And tell me truly now, is there not one For I could wish, as heartily as you,

You love above me?
I were no sister to you ; I should then

Pan. No, by Heaven.
Embrace your lawful love, sooner than health. Arb. Why, yet
Arb. Couldst thou affect me then ?

You sent unto Tigranes, sister.
Pan. So perfectly,

Pan. True, That, as it is, I ne'er shall sway my heart

But for another : for the truth-To like another.

Arb. No more, Arb. Then I curse my birth!

I'll credit thee; I know thou canst not lie. Must this be added to my miseries,

Thou art all truth.
That thou art willing too? Is there no stop

Pan. But is there nothing else,
To our full happiness, but these mere sounds, That we may do, but only walk? Methinks,
Brother and sister ?

Brothers and sisters lawfully may kiss.
Pan. There is nothing else :

Arb. And so they may, Panthea ; so will we ; Bat these, alas ! will separate us more

And kiss again too ; we were too scrupulous Than twenty worlds betwixt us.

And foolish, but we will be so no more. Arb. I have lived

Pan. If you have any mercy, let me go To conquer men, and now am overthrown

To prison, to my death, to anything : Only by words, brother and sister. Where I feel a sin growing upon my blood, Have those words dwelling? I will find 'em out, Worse than all these, hotter, I fear, than yours. And utterly destroy 'em ; but they are

Arb. That is impossible : what should we do? Not to be grasp'd ; let them be men or beasts, Pan. Fly, sir, for Heaven's sake. And I will cut 'em from the earth ; or towns, Arb. So we must ; away! And I will raze 'em, and then blow 'em up : Sin grows upon us more by this delay.

Exeunt several ways.]

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