_Joseph Tailor_,
_Robert Benfield_,
_John Underwood_,
_George Birch_,
_John Lowin_,
_Rich. Robinson_,
_Nich. Tooly_,
_Rich. Sharp_.
_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Virolet, _and Boy._
_Vir._ Boy.
_Boy._ Sir?
_Vir._ If my wife seek me, tell her that
Designs of weight, too heavy for her knowledge,
Exact my privacy.
_Boy._ I shall, Sir.
_Vir._ Do then,
And leave me to my self.
_Boy._ 'Tis a raw morning
And would you please to interpret that for duty
Which you may construe boldness, I could wish
To arm your self against it, you would use
More of my service.
_Vir._ I have heat within here,
A noble heat (good boy) to keep it off,
I shall not freeze; deliver my excuse, [_Enter_ Juliana.
And you have done your part.
_Boy._ That is prevented,
My Lady follows you.
_Vir._ Since I must be crost then,
Let her perform that office.
_Boy._ I obey you. [_Exit._
_Vir._ Prethee to bed; to be thus fond's more tedious
Than if I were neglected.
_Jul._ 'Tis the fault then
Of Love and Duty, which I would fall under,
Rather than want that care which you may challenge
As due to my obedience.
_Vir._ I confess
This tenderness argues a loving Wife,
And more deserves my hearts best thanks, than anger.
Yet I must tell ye Sweet, you do exceed
In your affection, if you would ingross me
To your delights alone.
_Jul._ I am not jealous,
If my embraces have distasted you,
As I must grant you every way so worthy
That 'tis not in weak woman to deserve you,
Much less in miserable me, that want
Those graces, some more fortunate are stor'd with.
Seek any whom you please, and I will study
With my best service to deserve those favors,
That shall yield you contentment.
_Vir._ You are mistaken.
_Jul._ No, I am patient Sir, and so good morrow;
I will not be offensive.
_Vir._ Hear my reasons.
_Jul._ Though in your life a widdows bed receives me,
For your sake I must love it. May she prosper
That shall succeed me in it, and your ardor
Last longer to her.
_Vir._ By the love I bear,
First to my Countreys peace; next to thy self
To whom compar'd, my life I rate at nothing;
Stood here a Lady that were the choice abstract
Of all the beauties nature ever fashion'd,
Or Art gave ornament to, compar'd to thee,
Thus as thou art obedient and loving,
I should contemn and loath her.
_Jul._ I doe believe.
How I am blest
In my assur'd belief! this is unfeign'd;
And why this sadness then?
_Vir._ Why _Juliana_,
Believe me, these my sad and dull retirements,
My often, nay almost continued Fasts,
Sleep banisht from my eyes, all pleasures, strangers,
Have neither root nor growth from any cause
That may arrive at Woman. Shouldst thou be,
As chastity forbid, false to my bed,
I should lament my fortune, perhaps punish
Thy falshood, and then study to forget thee:
But that which like a never-emptied spring,
Feeds high the torrent of my swelling grief,
Is what my Countrey suffers; there's a ground
Where sorrow may be planted, and spring up,
Through yielding rage, and womanish despair,
And yet not shame the owner.
_Jul._ I do believe it true,
Yet I should think my self a happy woman,
If, in this general and timely mourning,
I might or give to you, or else receive
A little lawful comfort.
_Vir._ Thy discretion
In this may answer for me; look on _Naples_
The Countrey where we both were born and bred,
_Naples_ the Paradise of _Italy_,
As that is of the earth; _Naples_, that was
The sweet retreat of all the worthiest _Romans_,
When they had shar'd the spoils of the whole world;
This flourishing Kingdom, whose inhabitants
For wealth and bravery, liv'd like petty Kings,
Made subject now to such a tyrannie.
As that fair City that receiv'd her name
From _Constantine_ the great, now in the power
Of barbarous Infidels, may forget her own;
To look with pity on our miseries;
So far in our calamities we transcend her.
For since this _Arragonian_ tyrant, _Ferrand_,
Seiz'd on the gover[n]ment, there's nothing left us
That we can call our own, but our afflictions.
_Jul._ And hardly those; the Kings strange cruelty,
Equals all presidents of tyranny.
_Vir._ Equal say you?
He has out-gone, the worst compar'd to him;
Nor _Phalaris_, nor _Dionysius_,
_Caligula_, nor _Nero_ can be mention'd;
They yet as Kings, abus'd their Regal power;
This as a Merchant, all the Countreys fat,
He wholly does ingross unto himself;
Our Oils he buys at his own price, then sells them
To us, at dearer rates; our Plate and Jewels,
Under a fain'd pretence of publique use,
He borrows; which deny'd his instruments force.
The Races of our horses he takes from us;
Yet keeps them in our pastures; rapes of Matrons,
And Virgins, are too frequent; never man
Yet thank'd him for a pardon; for Religion,
It is a thing he dreams not of.
_Jul._ I have heard,
How true it is, I know not; that he sold
The Bishoprick of _Tarent_ to a Jew,
For thirteen thousand Duckets.
_Vir._ I was present,
And saw the money paid; the day would leave me,
E'r I could number out his impious actions;
Or what the miserable Subject suffers;
And can you entertain in such a time,
A thought of dalliance? tears, and sighs, and groans,
Would better now become you.
_Jul._ They indeed are,
The only weapons, our poor Sex can use,
When we are injur'd; and they may become us;
But for me[n] that were born free men, of Ranck;
That would be Registred Fathers of their Countrey;
And to have on their Tombs in Golden Letters,
The noble stile of Tyrant-killers, written;
To weep like fools and Women, and not like wise men.
To practise a redress, deserves a name,
Which fits not me to give.
_Vir._ Thy grave reproof:
If what thou dost desire, were possible
To be effected, might well argue it,
As wise as loving; but if you consider,
With what strong guards this Tyrant is defended:
Ruffins, and male-contents drawn from all quarters;
That only know, to serve his impious Will;
The Cittadels built by him in the neck
Of this poor City; the invincible strength,
Nature by Art assisted, gave this Castle;
And above all his fear; admitting no man
To see him, but unarm'd; it being death
For any to approach him with a weapon.
You must confess, unless our hands were Cannons,
To batter down these walls; our weak breath Mines,
To blow his Forts up; or our curses lightning,
To force a passage to him; and then blast him;
Our power is like to yours, and we, like you,
Weep our misfortunes.
_Jul._ Walls of Brass resist not
A noble undertaking; nor can vice,
Raise any Bulwark, to make good the place,
Where virtue seeks to enter; then to fall
In such a brave attempt, were such an honor
That _Brutus_, did he live again, would envy.
Were my dead Father in you, and my Brothers;
Nay, all the Ancestors I am deriv'd from;
As you, in being what you are, are all these.
I had rather wear a mourning Garment for you,
And should be more proud of my widdowhood;
You dying for the freedom of this Countrey;
Than if I were assur'd, I should enjoy
A perpetuity of life and pleasure
With you, the Tyrant living.
_Vir._ Till this minute,
I never heard thee speak; O more than woman!
And more to be belov'd; can I find out
A Cabinet, to lock a secret in,
Of equal trust to thee? all doubts, and fears,
That scandalize your Sex, be far from me;
Thou shalt partake my near and dearest councils,
And further them with thine.
_Jul._ I will be faithful.
_Vir._ Know then this day, stand heaven propitious to us,
Our liberty begins.
_Jul._ In _Ferrands_ death?
_Vir._ 'Tis plotted love, and strongly, and believe it,
For nothing else could do it, 'twas the thought,
How to proceed in this design and end it,
That made strange my embraces.
_Jul._ Curs'd be she,
That's so indulgent to her own delights,
That for their satisfaction, would give
A stop to such a glorious enterprize:
For me, I would not for the world, I had been
Guilty of such a crime; go on and prosper.
Go on my dearest Lord, I love your Honor
Above my life; nay, yours; my prayers go with you;
Which I will strengthen with my tears: the wrongs
Of this poor Countrey, edge your sword; Oh may it
Pierce deep into this Tyrants heart, and then
When you return bath'd in his guilty blood;
I'll wash you clean with fountains of true joy.
But who are your assistants? though I am
So covetous of your glory, that I could wish
You had no sharer in it. [_Knock._
_Vir._ Be not curious.
They come, however you command my bosom,
To them I would not have you seen.
_Jul._ I am gone Sir,
Be confident; and may my resolution
Be present with you. [_Exit._
_Vir._ Such a Masculine spirit,
With more than Womans virtues, were a Dower
To weigh down a Kings fortune.
_Enter_ Brissonet, Camillo, Ronvere.
_Briss._ Good day to you.
_Cam._ You are an early stirrer.
_Vir._ What new face,
Bring you along?
_Ron._ If I stand doubted Sir?
As by your looks I guess it: you much injure
A man that loves, and truly loves this Countrey,
With as much zeal as you doe; one that hates
The Prince by whom it suffers, and as deadly;
One that dares step as far to gain my freedom,
As any he that breaths; that wears a sword
As sharp as any's.
_Cam._ Nay, no more comparisons.
_Ron._ What you but whisper, I dare speak aloud,
Stood the King by; have means to put in act too
What you but coldly plot; if this deserve then
Suspition in the best, the boldest, wisest?
Pursue your own intents, I'll follow mine;
And if I not out-strip you--
_Briss._ Be assur'd Sir,
A conscience like this can never be ally'd
To treachery.
_Cam._ Who durst speak so much,
But one that is like us, a sufferer,
And stands as we affected?
_Vir._ You are cozen'd
And all undone; every Intelligencer
Speaks Treason with like licence; is not this
_Ronvere_, that hath for many years been train'd
In _Ferrand_'s School, a man in trust and favour,
Rewarded too, and highly?
_Cam._ Grant all this,
The thought of what he was, being as he is now;
A man disgrac'd, and with contempt thrown off;
Will spurr him to revenge, as swift as they,
That never were in favour.
_Vir._ Poor and childish.
_Briss._ His regiment is cast, that is most certain;
And his command in the Castle given away.
_Cam._ That on my knowledge.
_Vir._ Grosser still, what Shepheard
Would yield the poor remainder of his Flock,
To a known Wolf; though he put on the habit,
Of a most faithful dog, and bark like one?
As this but only talks.
_Cam._ Yes, he has means too.
_Vir._ I know it to my grief, weak men I know it;
To make his peace, if there were any war
Between him and his Master, betraying
Our innocent lives.
_Ron._ You are too suspitious
And I have born too much, beyond my temper,
Take your own waies, I'll leave you.
_Vir._ You may stay now;
You have enough, and all indeed you fish'd for;
But one word Gentlemen: have you discover'd
To him alone our plot?
_Briss._ To him and others, that are at his devotion.
_Vir._ Worse and worse:
For were he only conscious of our purpose,
Though with the breach of Hospitable laws,
In my own house, I'de silence him for ever:
But what is past my help, is past my care.
I have a life to lose.
_Cam._ Have better hopes.
_Ron._ And when you know, with what charge I have further'd
Your noble undertaking, you will swear me
Another man; the guards I have corrupted:
And of the choice of all our noblest youths,
Attir'd like Virgins; such as Hermits would
Welcome to their sad cells, prepar'd a Maske;
As done for the Kings pleasure.
_Vir._ For his safety
I rather fear; and as a pageant to
Usher our ruine.
_Ron._ We as Torch-bearers
Will wait on these, but with such art and cunning;
I have conveigh'd sharp poniards in the Wax,
That we may pass, though search't through all his guards
Without suspition, and in all his glory,
Oppress him, and with safety.
_Cam._ 'Tis most strange.
_Vir._ To be effected.
_Ron._ You are doubtful still.
_Briss._ But we resolv'd to follow him, and if you
Desist now _Virolet_, we will say 'tis fear,
Rather than providence. [_Exeunt._
_Cam._ And so we leave you.
_Enter_ Julian.
_Jul._ To your wise doubts, and to my better counsels;
Oh! pardon me my Lord, and trust me too;
Let me not like _Cassandra_ prophesie truths,
And never be believ'd, before the mischief:
I have heard all; know this _Ronvere_ a villain,
A villain that hath tempted me, and plotted
This for your ruine, only to make way
To his hopes in my embraces; at more leisure
I will acquaint you, wherefore I conceal'd it
To this last minute; if you stay, you are lost,
And all prevention too late. I know,
And 'tis to me known only, a dark cave
Within this house, a part of my poor Dower,
Where you may lie conceal'd, as in the center,
Till this rough blast be o'r, where there is air,
More then to keep in life; _Ferrand_ will find you,
So curious his fears are.
_Vir._ 'Tis better fall
Than hide my head, now 'twas thine own advice,
My friends engag'd too.
_Jul._ You stand further bound,
Than to weak men that have betrai'd themselves,
Or to my counsel, though then just and loyal:
Your phansie hath been good, but not your judgement,
In choice of such to side you; will you leap
From a steep Tower, because a desperate fool
Does it, and trusts the wind to save his hazard?
There's more expected from you; all mens eies are fixt
On _Virolet_, to help, not hurt them;
Make good their hopes and ours, you have sworn often,
That you dare credit me; and allow'd me wise
Although a woman; even Kings in great actions,
Wait opportunity, and so must you, Sir,
Or loose your understanding.
_Vir._ Thou art constant;
I am uncertain fool, a most blind fool;
Be thou my guide.
_Jul._ If I fail to direct you,
For torment or reward, when I am wretched,
May constancy forsake me.
_Vir._ I've my safety.