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Clotair. You have done ill,
And must be taught so; you capitulate
Not with your equal, Clovis, she's thy queen.

Clovis. Upon my knees I do acknowledge her
Queen of my thoughts and my affections.
O pardon me, if my ill-tutor’d tongue
Has forfeited my head ; if not, behold
Before the sacred altar of thy feet
I lie, a willing sacrifice.

Aphelia. Arise :
And henceforth, Clovis, thus instruct thy soul;
There lies a depth in fate which earthly eyes
May faintly look into, but cannot fathom :
You had my vow till death to be your wife,
You being dead my vows were cancelled,
And I, as thus you see, bestow’d.

Clovis. Farewell ;
I will no more offend you : would to God
Those cruel hands, not enough barbarous,
That made these bleeding witnesses of love,
Had set an endless period to my life too !
Clotair. Where there's no help it's bootless to

complain ;

Clovis, she's mine ; let not your spirit war
Or mutiny within you ; because I say't ;
Nor let thy tongue from henceforth dare presume
To say she might, or ever should be thine ; [day.
What's past once more I pardon, 'tis our wedding-
Clovis. A farewell to love: thus do I break

[Breaks the ring.
Your broken pledge of faith ; and with this kiss,,
The last that ever Clovis must print here,
Unkiss the kiss that seal'd it on thy lips.
Ye powers, ye are unjust, for her wild breath,
That has the sacred tie of contract broken,
Is still the same Arabia that it was.

[The king, CLOTAIR, pulls him
Nay, I have done : beware of jealousy!
I would not have you nourish jealous thoughts;
Though she has broke her faith to me, to you,
Against her reputation, she'll be true :
Farewell my first love lost, I'll choose to have
No wife till death shall wed me to my grave.
Come, Strephon, come and teach me how to die,
That gavest me life so unadvisedly.


(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 [1623] 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.

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Persons--The Duchess RoSAURA and her ladies VALERIA


Valeria. Sweet madam, be less thoughtful ;

this obedience
To passion will destroy the noblest frame
Of beauty that this kingdom ever boasted.
Celinda. This sadness might become your

other habit,
And ceremonies black for him that died.
The times of sorrow are expired, and all

* 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,
And a new Hymen that is coming towards you,
Invite a change.

Duch. Ladies, I thank you both.

pray excuse a little melancholy
That is behind. My year of mourning hath not
So clear'd my account with sorrow, but there may
Some dark thoughts stay with sad reflections
Upon my heart, for him I lost. Even this
New dress and smiling garment, meant to show
A peace concluded 'twixt my grief and me,
Is but a sad remembrance : but I resolve

[+ 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
You wish me heartily to smile, you must

Not mention grief : not in advice to leave it.

The Duchess's Conference with Alvarez.
Such counsels open but afresh the wounds
You would close up, and keep alive the cause

Enter Secretary.
Whose bleeding you would cure ; let's talk of

Sec. The Count D’Alvarez, madam.

Duch. Admit him,
That may delight. You two are read in all
The histories of our court ; tell me, Valeria,

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.
Val. I have examined
All that are candidates for praise of ladies,

But find-may I speak boldly to your grace, D'Alv. Madam, I present
And will you not return it, in your mirth, One that was glad to obey your grace, and come
To make me blush ?

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.
The man in your esteem, Celinda, now.

D'Alv. Your grace's pardon :
Cel. Alvarez is, I must confess, a gentleman To speak with freedom, I am not so old
Of handsome composition, but with

In cunning to betray, nor young in time
His mind (the greater excellence) I think

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
To steer a lover's soul.

That part which makes my veins unequal. Yet
Those nice distinctions have no place in us ;
There's but a shadow difference, a title ;

Thy stock partakes as much of noble sap

Card. What lethargy could thus unspirit him?
As that which feeds the root of kings; and he I am all wonder. Do not believe, madam,
That writes a lord, hath all the essence of But that Columbo's love is yet more sacred

To honour and yourself, than thus to forfeit
D'Alv. 'Tis not a name that makes

What I have heard him call the glorious wreath
Our separation—the king's displeasure

To all his merits, given him by the king,
Hangs a portent to fright us, and the matter From whom he took you with more pride than ever
That feeds this exhalation is the cardinal's He came from victory ; his kisses hang
Plot to advance his nephew ; then Columbo, Yet panting on your lips, and he but now
A man made up for some prodigious act,

Exchanged religious farewell, to return
Is fit to be consider'd : in all three

But with more triumph to be yours.
There is no character you fix upon

Duch. My lord,
But has a form of ruin to us both.

You do believe your nephew's hand was not
Duch. Then you do look on them with fear? Surprised or strain’d to this?
D'Alr. With eyes

Card. Strange arts and windings in the world-
That should think tears a duty to lament

most dark
Your least unkind fate; but my youth dares boldly And subtle progresses. Who brought this letter ?
Meet all the tyranny of the stars, whose black Duch. I inquired not his name. thought it not
Malevolence but shoot my single tragedy ; Considerable to take such narrow notice.
You are above the value of many worlds

Card. Desert and honour urged it here, nor can
Peopled with such as I am.

I blame you to be angry; yet his person
Duch. What if Columbo,

Obliged you should have given a nobler pause
Engaged in war, in his hot thirst of honour,

Before you


your faith and change so violent Find out the way to death ?

From his known worth, into the arms of one,
D'Alo. "Tis possible.

However fashion’d to your amorous wish,
Duch. Or say, no matter by what art or motive, Not equal to his cheapest fame, with all
He gives his title up, and leave me to

The gloss of blood and merit.
My own election.

Duch. This comparison,
D'Alv. If I then be happy

My good lord cardinal, I cannot think
To have a name within your thought, there can Flows from an even justice, it betrays
Be nothing left to crown me with new blessing. You partial where your blood runs.
But I dream thus of heaven, and wake to find Card. I fear, madam,
My am’rous soul a mockery, when the priest Your own takes too much license, and will soon
Shall tie you to another, and the joys

Fall to the censure of unruly tongues.
Of marriage leave no thought at leisure to Because Alvarez has a softer cheek,
Look back upon Alvarez, that must wither Can, like a woman, trim his wanton hair,
For loss of you : yet then I cannot lose

Spend half a day with looking in the glass
So much of what I was once in your favour, To find a posture to present himself,
But in a sigh pray still you may live happy. And bring more effeminacy than man

Duch. My heart is in a mist ; some good star Or honour, to your bed-must he supplant him ?
Upon my resolution, and direct

[smile | Take heed, the common murmur, when it catches
Two lovers in their chaste embrace to meet. The scent of a lost fame,
Columbo's bed contains my winding-sheet.

Duch. My fame, lord cardinal !
It stands upon an innocence as clear
As the devotions you pay to heaven.
I shall not urge, my lord, your soft indulgence

At my next shrift.
Conference of the Duchess and the Cardinal, after the

Card. You are a fine court lady.
Duchess has sent a letter to Columbo, praying him to

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,
Cardinal. Madam.

Duch. 'Cause you dare do worse
Duchess. My lord.

Than marriage, must not I be admitted what
Card. The king speaks of a letterthat has brought The church and law allows me ?

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
They are a pair of burning glasses, and

Our sacred vows together there.
His envious blood doth give them flame.

Card. I knew

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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,
In your rude spleen to me, to abuse the church? That looks like a fair star within love's sky,

Duch. Alas! you give false aim, my lord; 'tis your Is fall’n, and by the scattering of her fires
Ambition and scarlet sins that rob

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.
That so deform you, and by timely cure

King. How's this ?
Prevent a shame before the short-hair'd men Duke. Truth is my witness, I did mean
Do crowd and call for justice, I take leave. [Exit. No ceremonious love until I found
Card. This woman has a spirit that may rise

Her heart was given from me, though your power
To tame the devil's,—there's no dealing with Contract our bodies.
Her angry tongue,—'tis action and revenge

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
Had been no stranger to his tongue, and can Concern your highness to permit me walk
Not find within it since what should divert In some eclipse.
His princely thoughts from my first innocence, Duke. How ?
Yet such is my stern fate I must still love him. Fosc. Be pleased to grant
And though he frame his heart to unkind distance, | A little freedom to my speech, I shall
It hath embracing virtue upon mine,

Demonstrate the necessity of this
And with his owu remove draws my soul after him. Action. I said I had a message-
If he forget I am a princess, pray

I come from Cleona. Let Naples do so too, for my revenge

Duke. From Cleona !
Shall be in prayers, that he may find my wrong, Fosc. From her, indeed; and in her name I must
And teach him soft repentance and more faith. Propound a question, to which she prays

Duke. All this must not betray my freedom, sir. You would be just and noble in your answer.
King. You'll not accuse our sister of dishonour? Duke. Without disputing your commission,

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.
To blast an apprehension, and shoot [enough Duke. About my love ? I pray thee
A quaking through the valiant soul of man. Be more particular.
My sister's blood accused, and her fair name,

Fosc. I shall. So soon
Late chaste as trembling snow, whose fleeces clothe As you were gone, being alone, and full
Our Alpine hills—sweet as the rose's spirit, Of melancholy thoughts,-
Or viclet's cheek, on which the morning leaves Duke. I left her so.
tear at parting,—now begins to wither

Fosc. Willing to ease her head upon her couch,
As it would haste to death and be forgotten. Through silence and some friendship of the dark,
This Florence is a prince that does accuse her, She fell asleep, and, in a short dream, thought
And such men give not faith to every murmur

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.

Have taken impious flames into your bosom ;
That y’are a bird of prey, and while she hath
No household Lar to wait upon her threshold,

You would fly in and seize upon her honour.

Duke. I hope she hath no faith in dreams.
PersonsThe DUKE of Savoy, and Foscari.

Fosc. And yet

Divinity hath oftentimes descended
Enter Foscari disguised, and kisses the Duke's hand. Upon our slumbers, and the blessed troops
Foscari. You are a gracious prince, and this Have, in the calm and quiet of the soul,
high favour

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
She cannot be illuded.

my lord.

This cloud ;

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