A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 14

by Unknown

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Ephorbas, King of Iberia. Plangus, his son.

Eubulus,
Anamedes,
Rinatus,

}

three lords, and councillors to the king.

Inophilus, son to Rinatus, and friend to the prince.

Zopiro,
Nicetes,
Aramnes,

}

captains.

Artesio, an informing courtier. Andromana, a merchant's wife. Libacer, her servant. Messenger. Captains and Soldiers.

Scene, Iberia.

---

ANDROMANA
OR
THE FATAL AND DESERVED END OF DISLOYALTY AND AMBITION.

---

ACT I., SCENE 1.

Enter Nicetes and Aramnes.

Nic. I have observ'd it too; but the cause is
As unknown to me as actions done
In countries not found out yet.

Ara. Some wench, my life to a brass farthing!

Nic. As like as may be:
We soldiers are all given that way; especially,
When our blood boils high, and [our] pulses beat
Alarms to Cupid's battles; we are apter
To sally on a young [in]flaming girl,
Than on an enemy that braves it
Before our trenches.

Ara. I ask it not to know his privacies; for if
His freedom doth not acquaint me with them,
Let them be secret still: yet I could wish
An opportunity to tell him
A little circumspection would
Be handsome, and set a gloss upon all.
Times might be chosen of less public notice:
It looks so poorly in a prince to be
Thus careless of his own affairs: men do
So talk on it. Here comes Inophilus;
If anybody knows, it must be he.

Enter Inophilus.

Ino. Your servant, captains. Saw you the prince to-day?

Nic. Not we: we hop'd to hear of him from you.

Ino. 'Tis strange a man, adorn'd with so much wisdom,
Should on the sudden fall off from the care
Of his own fame! I am his friend, and so,
I know, are you; but to speak plainly to you,
He's grown my wonder now as much
As other men's. I, that have found a sweetness
In his company beyond whatever
Lovers dream of in a mistress, that as
He spoke, methought have smell'd the air perfum'd;
Nor could have wished a joy greater
Than living with him, next those of heaven;
And those preferr'd the more, because I knew
Plangus would be there.
I say, even I of late am grown out of love
With anything that's mortal; since I've found
Plangus so far beneath (I will not say
My expectations) but the assurances
All good men had of future gallantry.
He's melancholy now, and hath thrown off
The spirit which so well became him; and all
That sweetness which bewitch'd men's hearts is grown
So rugged, so incompos'd to all commerce,
Men fear he'll shortly quarrel with himself.
Nay more, he doth not answer the fondness
Of his father's love with half that joy
He us'd to do.

Ara. 'Tis now about a week I have observ'd
This alteration; it shakes him, like an ague,
Once in two days, but holds him longer
Than a fit o' th' gout. They whisper about the court
As if the king had chid him for it,
And now at length [had] found his haunts——

Ino. A poor discovery! Who might not find 'em out,
That would be so uncivil? I was about
To follow him, but thought it an ignoble way,
Beneath the name of friendship, and so desisted.
About four days ago, meeting him i' th' long gallery,
I ask'd him how he did? Taking me by the hand,
He wrung it, and after a sigh or two, told me,
"Not very well, but he had business"—and so we parted.
I saw him not again in twenty hours after;
And then I ask'd him where he'd been so long?
He told me (as if he was ashamed
To deny me such a poor request) I must not know:
And when I told him his often absence was observ'd,
Is it? (saith he) I cannot help it; but it shall
No more be so; and at the last he stole away:
Since when I saw him not.

Nic. O this wicked peace! Inophilus,
Is there no hopes of war?
To lie at home to see our armours rust;
We could keep the prince sober and merry too,
If he would but exchange his court for a camp.

Ino. The king is old, and doats upon his son;
Is loth to venture him to danger:
Yet at this time there is occasion.
The Argives have refus'd to pay their tribute,
And are for certain preparing for invasion:
Some say they have got into Iberia already.

Ara. Nay, then there's hopes;
If we could but find the prince with a buff-coat again,
I should be once more merry.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Ephorbas the King, Rinatus, Eubulus, and Aramnes, three Lords.

Eph. See the ambassadors entertain'd
With such an evenness as should be us'd to men
We neither fear nor love; let neither
Too much obsequiousness teach them insolency,
Nor any ill-usage brand us with incivility:
Stay you, Rinatus.

[He sighs. Exeunt Eubulus and Aramnes.

Open thy bosom, and receive torrents of sorrow,
That lie like rocks of lead upon my soul;
Honest Rinatus, experience bids me trust thee
With a mighty secret. Thou canst not choose
But know my son of late is much retir'd.
I do not like that youth should be thus melancholy:
Let them enjoy themselves; for age will come,
Whose impotency will deny all pleasures.
I do believe he loves me. Ha?

Rin. Yes, doubtless, better than sick men health;
Or those who are penn'd up in darkness
Love the sun.

Eph. I speak not, as if I thought he did not;
For thou know'st I humour him, afford him
Liberty enough; I never chide him, nor express
The least dislike of any action. Am not I a gentle father?
Methinks, were I a son again to such a father,
I should not think he liv'd too long; shouldst thou, Rinatus?

Rin. No more doth he, upon my soul:
One command of yours would make him venture upon
Lightning, nay, almost make him act a sin,
A thing he fears to name.

Eph. I do believe thee:
But yet, methinks, should he be grown so impious,
There might be found excuses.
A crown is a temptation; especially so near one:
'Tis not with princes as with other sons;
And I am told too—
Hath not my hand the palsy?—
Doth a crown become grey hairs? To be a king
Might make some men forswear all conscience.
But I know Plangus hath far nobler thoughts;
And yet an empire might excuse a parricide.

Rin. Sir, sure, you are a stranger to your son;
For, give me leave to say, your fears are vain:
So great a virtue as the prince's cannot
Anticipate his hopes by any sin.
Honour and duty have been acquainted with him now
Too long to be divorc'd. Some sycophants there are
(Such creatures still will haunt the court), I know,
Love not the prince, because he loves not them.
Sir, shut your ears to them: they will betray you
To your ruin. Jealousy's a disease
Should be below a king, as that which seizeth
On the basest spirits. O, shut it from your soul!
One may read in story what dire effects
The fury hath brought forth. Kings make away
Their only sons, and princes their fathers;
And when they have done, they may despair at leisure.

Eph. I do not think Plangus
Hath plots or on my crown or me;
He was virtuous always, and is still, I hope:
But why is he so much from court then, and alone too?
I do but ask the question.

Rin. It can be no design, believe me, sir;
For crowns are won by other courses.
Aspirers must grow popular, be hedg'd about
With their confederates. Then would he flatter you,
Be jolly still, as if no melancholy thought were in him.
A guilty conscience would then teach him policy,
And he would seek to take suspicion from all his carriages;
Innocence makes him careless now.

Eph. Thou hast almost resolv'd me,
The tempest in my soul is almost laid,
And wants but time to calm it.
Youth hath its whimsies, nor are we
To examine all their paths too strictly.
We went awry ourselves when we were young.

Rin. Sir!

Eph. Thou may'st be gone, Rinatus.

[Exit Rinatus.

SCENE III.

Ephorbas solus.

The blessing of an honest servant!
This Rinatus is truer unto me.
He loves the king as well as I Ephorbas;
And may I live but to reward him,
For he's too honest for a court.

Enter Artesio.

How now, Artesio? thy looks speak strong amazement;
I am with child to hear the news: prythee,
Be quick in the delivery.

Art. The prince, an't please your majesty——

Eph. What of him, Artesio?

Art. I have observ'd, is much retir'd of late.

Eph. So have I too; this is no news.

Art. And I can whisper in your ear the cause.
'Twas chance, no policy of mine, betray'd his privacies:
Ill-offices are not the engines I desire
To rise by, only love to the young prince
Makes me reveal them.

Eph.Nay, nay, without apology;
If it were treason, it should not go down
The sooner for all the gilded preparation.
Nor am I of so feminine a humour
As to mistrust affection delivered bluntly:
Plain meaning should be plainly told;
Bad wares may have false lights, good can abide the day.

Art. But I know the nature of my office;
Though kings still hug suspicion in their bosoms,
They hate the causers; love to hear secrets too,
Yet the revealers still fare the worse,
Being either thought guilty of ends or weakness;
And so esteem'd by those they tell them to
Either unfit or dangerous to be trusted.
Perhaps, sir, when the prince and you are friends again
You'll tell me that, had my love been real,
I should have whisper'd the prince's errors to himself.

Eph. Without a syllable of prologue more,
Or I shall verify your fears.

Art. In this brave city (take it as brief as may be)
There lives a beauty, fit to command
Them that command the world,
And might be Alexander's mistress, were he yet alive,
And had added empires as large as his desires:
She's but a private merchant's wife;
Yet the prince is so far gravell'd in her affection,
I fear——

Eph. Then there is hopes I may recall him:
Love is a childish evil, though the effects
Are dangerous. A prince's errors grown public
Will be scandalous. Poor boy! perhaps
The jealous husband may commit a murder;
I would not have him cut off so young:
Love should be princes' recreation, not their business.
What physic must we give him for his cure?

Art. I dare not counsel you;
But in my poor judgment some gentle
Fatherly persuasions will work upon so good a nature.

Eph. Couldst thou but possibly effect, how I
Might take him napping?

Art. That is beyond my skill:
But I can show you the house and time he walks
From hence in, which will be about an hour
Hence; for then her husband comes home from
The Rialto.

Eph. Time will not tarry for a king; let's go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Ino. What is become of this young prince? or where
Doth he bestow himself? Doth he walk invisible?
Where have I [not] been to look him? the horses
Are in the stables, his page and I at home too,
That us'd to be as inseparable companions.

Enter Nicetes, Aramnes.

Ara. Well met, gentlemen! where is the hermit Plangus?

Nic. We cannot tell, nor have we been to seek him.
If at the court, we should hear presently; if not,
We might be too officious in his search, and our
Inquiry might make his absence
But so much the more notorious; and I'm confident
He's well: his virtue guards him still from all mischances.

Ino. Though his company's the dearest thing I love,
Yet for his good I could digest his absence,
But that I doubt a mighty mischief might spring
From this small grain of indiscretion.
The king is old, and there are knaves about the court
That (if he knew it not) would tell him so:
And men, conscious to themselves of a deficiency,
Are still most jealous of a growing worth.
Perhaps a thinking father (for plodding
Is old age's sickness) may take notice of
His son's retirement, and misconstrue it so:
Nothing is impossible: heaven send it otherwise!

Ara. This care becomes you, sir; but I dare swear
'Tis needless: the king is but an ill dissembler; and had he
But the least thought of such a thing, he'd hide it
Less than the sun conceals his brightness:
Besides, a man as great as Ephorbas is, whose rule
Of living hath been directed by the line
Of virtue, cannot mistrust that vice in his
Own son, of which himself was never guilty;
Had his younger years been tainted with inordinate
Desires, or had his crown been the effect
Of some audacious crime, perhaps his guilty
Conscience might have mistrusted.
But 'tis impossible, where there is no guilt,
To fear a punishment.

Ino. You speak my hopes:
But this for certain, gentlemen: the king,
Who was admired for his matchless sleeping,
Whose night no noise disturb'd, and it was difficult
To wake before his hour, sleeps but unquietly of late,
Will start at midnight, and cry Plangus:
Is greedy after news, and walks unevenly,
And sometimes on the sudden looks behind him;
And when one speaks to him, scarcely marks one syllable.
Surely the mind of some distemper shakes
His soul into this looseness.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. My lord, the prince desires
To meet you half an hour hence i' th' gallery.

Ino. Me?

Mes. Yes, my lord.

Ino. I shall. Your servant, captains.

All. Yours, my lord.

[Exeunt at several doors.

SCENE V.

Plangus, Andromana.

Plan. It cannot be so late.

And. Believe't, the sun is set, my dear,
And candles have usurp'd the office of the day.

Plan. Indeed, methinks a certain mist,
Like darkness, hangeth[81] on my eyelids.
But too great lustre may undo the sight:
A man may stare so long upon the sun
That he may look his eyes out; and certainly
'Tis so with me: I have so greedily
Swallow'd thy light that I have spoil'd my own.

And. Why shouldst thou tempt me to my ruin thus?
As if thy presence were less welcome to me
Than day to one who, 'tis so long ago
He saw the sun, hath forgot what light is.
Love of thy presence makes me wish this absence.
Phœbus himself must suffer an eclipse,
And clouds are still foils to the brightest splendour:
Some short departure will (like [to] a river
Stopp'd) make the current of our pleasures run
The higher at our next meeting.

Plan. Alas, my dearest! tell those so
That know not what it is to part from blessing;
Bid not him surfeit to taste health's sweetness,
That knows what 'tis to groan under a disease.

And. Then let us stand and outface danger,
Since you will have it so; despise report,
And contemn scandals into nothing,
Which vanish with the breath that utters 'em;
Love is above these vanities. Should the
Innocent thing my husband take thee here,
He could not spite me but by growing jealous;
And jealousy's black[est] effect would be a cloister,
Perhaps to kill me too: but that's impossible—
I cannot die so long as Plangus loves me.
Yet say this piece of earth should play the coward,
And fall at some unlucky stroke,
Love would transport my better half to its centre
[In] Plangus' heart, and I should live in him.
But, sir, you have a fame to lose, which should be
A prince's only care and darling: which
Should have an eternity beyond his life:
If he should take that from you, I should be
Killed indeed.

Plan. Why dost thou use
These arguments to bid me go,
Yet chain me to thy tongue, while the angel-like
Music of thy voice, ent'ring my thirsty ears,
Charms up my fears to immobility?
'Tis more impossible for me to leave thee
Than for this carcase to quoit[82] away its gravestone,
When it lies destitute of a soul t' inform it.
Mariners might with far greater ease
Hear whole shoals of Sirens singing,
And not leap out to their destruction,
Than I forsake so dangerous a sweetness.

And. I will be dumb then.

Plan. I will be deaf first. I have thought a way now,
I'll run from hence, and leave my soul behind me.
It shall be so—and yet it shall not neither:
What! shall a husband banish a prince his house
For fear? A husband! 'tis but an airy title;
I will command there shall be no such thing,
And then Andromana is mine, or his,
Or any man's she will herself. These ceremonies
Fetter the world, and I was born to free it.
Shall man, that noble creature, be afraid
Of words, things himself made? Shall sounds,
A thing of seven small letters, give check
T'a prince's will?

And. Did you not promise me, dear sir?
Have you not sworn, too, you would not stay
beyond the time?
Have oaths no more validity with princes?
Let me not think so.

Plan. Come, I will go; thou shalt not ask in vain.
But let us kiss at parting; it may be
Our last, perhaps—
I cannot now move one foot, though all the furies
Should whip me forward with their snakes.
Woman, thou stol'st my heart—just now thou stol'st it.
A cannon bullet might have kiss'd my lips,
And left me as much life.

[The King, having listened, comes in softly.

Are we betray'd?
What art? speak, or resolve to die.

King. A well-wisher of the prince's.

Plan. The king? It cannot be!

[He starts.

King. Though thou hast thrown all nature off,
I cannot what's my duty. Ungracious boy!
Hadst been the offspring of a sinful bed,
Thou might'st have claim'd adult'ry as inheritance;
Lust would have been thy kinsman,
And what enormity thy looser life
Could have been guilty of had found excuse
In an unnatural conception.
Prythee, hereafter seek another father:
Ephorbas cannot call him son that makes
Lust his deity. Had I but known
(But we are hoodwink'd still to all mischances)
I should have had a son that would make it
His study to embrace corruption, and
Take delight in unlawful sheets. I would
Have hugg'd a monster in mine arms
Before thy mother. Good, O heavens!
What will this world come to at last?
When princes, that should be the patterns
Of all virtue, lead up the dance to vice!
What shall we call our own, when our own wives
Banish their faith, and prove false to us?
Have I with so much care promis'd myself
So pleasing a spring of comfort, and are all
Those blossoms nipp'd, and buds burnt up by th' fire
Of lust and sin?—
Have I thus long laboured against the billows,
That did oppose my growing hopes,
And must I perish in the haven's mouth?
No gulf but this to be devoured in?
Could not youth's inclination find out
Another rock to split itself upon?
Hadst thou hugg'd drunkenness, the wit
Or mirth of company might have excus'd it.
Prodigality had been a sin a prince
Might have been proud in compared to this.
Or had thy greener years incited thee
To treason and attempt a doubting father's crown,
T' had been a noble vice. Ambition
Runs through the veins of princes; it brings forth
Acts [as] great as themselves and it; spurs on
To honour, and resolves great things.
But this—this lechery is such a thing, sin is
Too brave a name for it. A prince (I might say son,[83]
But let that pass), and dare to show himself
To nought but darkness and black chambers,
Whose motions, like some planet, are all eccentric:
Not two hours together in his own sphere,
The court?—but I am tame to talk thus;
Begone, with as much speed as a coward would
Avoid his death; and never more presume
To look upon this woman, [upon] this whore:
Thou losest both thy eyes and me else.

[Plangus is going out, but comes again.

Plan. [O] sir, the reverence that I owe my father,
And the injury I have done this gentlewoman,
Had charm'd me up to silence; but I must
Speak something for her honour:
When I have done, command me to the altar.
Whilst (I confess) you tainted me with sin,
I did applaud you, and condemn myself—
It looked like a father's care—but when
You us'd that term of whore to her that stands there,
I would have given ten thousand kingdoms,
You had had no more relation to me
Than hath the northern to the southern pole. I should
Have flown to my revenge swifter than lightning.
But I forbear; and pray, imagine not
What I had done——

King. Upon my life, she's very handsome.

[Aside.

Plan. To be a whore is more unknown to her,
Than what is done in the Antipodes;
She is so pure she cannot think a sin,
Nor ever heard the name to understand it.

King. No doubt, these private meetings were to read
Her moral lectures, and teach her chastity!

Plan. Nay, give me leave, sir. I do not say
My addresses have been all so virtuous;
For whatsoever base desires a flaming
Beauty could kindle in a heart, were all alive
In me, and prompted me to seek some ease
By quenching burnings hotter than Ætna.
Imagine but a man that had drunk mercury,
And had a fire within his bones,
Whose blood was hotter than the melted ore!
If he should wish for drink, nay, steal it too,
Could you condemn him?

Eph. Marri'd, do they say?

[Aside.

Plan. I did endure a heat seas could not cool;
It would have kill'd a salamander.
Then, taught both impudence and wit,
I singled out my foe, us'd all the arts
That love could think upon, and in the end
Found a most absolute repulse.

King. Well, Plangus, youth excuses the first fault;
But a relapse exceeds all pardon.

[Exeunt King and Plangus.

SCENE VI.

And. Curs'd be old age, and he that first
Number'd fourscore!
What devil has betray'd us to a doating fool?
Did I but now promise myself, what hopes
Ambitious thoughts could reach; and shall I sink
Down to my first foundation without the pleasure of
A tasted greatness? Death and disgrace!
I dare provoke the utmost of your malice,
After the sweetness of some sharp revenge.

Enter Libacer in haste.

Lib. Madam, my master.

And. You may both hang together.

Lib. Why, this it is, if a man should kill his father
For you, he should be thus rewarded; as soon as
Your turn's served, I may be hang'd that did it.

And. Since he is dead, how was it done?

Lib. Why, nothing; only as he was taking water
At the Rialto, his foot slipp'd a little,
And he came tumbling in the sea;
Whence he was taken up, but not alive.

And. Heav'n prospers not these courses,
I see it plainly; let them be acted with as much closeness,
Or to what end soever, they never thrive. Libacer,
We are undone, undone; the king hath found
His son here, and I have lost him to eternity.

Lib. You women are the shallowest creatures;
You never look beyond the present.
Rome was not built in one day, madam;
Greatness is never sweet that comes too easily.
Should Plangus be a fool now, and obey his father—
Pox o' this virtue, it spoils most men living.
We have hopes yet: revenge is something;
And if my old trade fail not.
Princes are mortal as well as other men;
Yet my soul inspires me with half a confidence
That Leon hath not died in vain. I use to see
As far into mischief as another: I'll go to him,
And if I bring him not within this half hour,
As hot and eager on the scent as e'er he was,
Take me and hang me at my coming home—
Madam, here is a messenger from court.

[As he is going out he meets Artesio.

And. If from thence, I may be bold to ask
How Plangus, the noblest prince alive, doth?

Art. Madam, as well as soldiers can
That are sick for honour; I suppose by this time
H' hath left the court, and is gone in quest for glory,
Which h' intends to ravish from young Argo's brow,
The valiant leader of the Argives' army.

And. I'm confident then, sir,
Your business is not to me; if anybody else
Hath sent you, sir, be pleas'd to spare the message,
And tell them, I neither have learned the tricks
O' th' court, nor yet intend it; I want no new gowns,
And have heard men forswear themselves
In better language and to better purpose
Than gaining of a lady's honour.

Art. Madam, my business is from the king,
Who doth entreat you would be pleas'd to bless
The court this afternoon with your fair presence,
And bring an answer; I must not stay for one.

[Exit Artesio.

And. Now we do see an end of all our mischiefs;
The prince hath gone from court, and the king
Hath sent for us. Doth not the name
Strike terror to thy curdling blood?

Lib. No, by my troth, not at all.
As far as I see, you're better than you were.
I'll lay my life the old man would turn gamester.
Take my counsel, play deep, or not at all:
Not an ace under a kingdom. Your grace,
I hope, will remember your poor friends.

And. If I do find any such thing,
Let me alone to melt his ice.
Go, get me mourning with all haste.

[Exit Libacer.

Let froward Fortune do her worst; I shall
Create my greatness, or attempting fall:
And when I fall, I will deserve my ruin.

[Exit.

---

ACT II., SCENE 1.

Enter Plangus, Nicetes, Aramnes.

Nic. What, sir, and are you melancholy, when fate
Hath shower'd a happiness so unexpected on us?
This ugly, sneaking peace is the soldier's rock
He splits his fortunes on. Bawdry's a virtue to't.
Pox o' these beaver hats, they make one's headache
Worse than a cap of steel: and bear not off a knock
The tenth part so well.

Plan. You're mad for fighting, gentlemen,
And we shall have enough of it.
The Argives, fifty thousand strong,
Have like a whirlwind borne down all before 'em;
And I, with thirteen thousand, that remain
Undisbanded of the last expedition,
Have command to fight that multitude
Of old tough soldiers: while ours,
In a month or two, won't have pick'd up that valour
That in this idle time hath slipp'd from them.
They have forgot what noise a musket makes;
And start if they but hear a drum.
Are these fellows either enow, or fit,
On whom a kingdom's safety should be built?
Indeed, were they to encounter some mistress,
Or storm a brothel-house, perhaps they'd venture;
But for my part I yield; nor would I oppose my father:
If he sees good we perish, I am already
Sacrific'd; yet our enemies shall dearly purchase
Their victory. Pray look to your charge, Nicetes,
And you, Aramnes, with all care and speed; and when
You come into the field, then let me see
This countenance, that frowning smile, and I
Shall like it: I love a man runs laughing
Upon death. But we lose time in talk.

[Exeunt Nicetes and Aramnes.

SCENE II.

Enter Inophilus.

Ino. Your servant, captains. Sir, pray a word with you.

Plan. Prythee, be short, Inophilus; thou know'st
My business.

Ino. Sir, I am mad to see your tameness:
A man bound up by magic is not so still as you;
Nothing was ever precipitated thus,
And yet refus'd to see its ruin.

Plan. Thou art tedious, I shall not tarry.

Ino. You are made general.

Plan. I know it.

Ino. Against the Argives.

Plan. So.

Ino. With thirteen thousand men, no more, sir.

Plan. I am glad on't, the honour is the greater.

Ino. The danger is the greater; you will be kill'd, sir,
And lose your army.

Plan. Is this all? I care not.

Ino. But so do I, and so do all your friends.
I smell a rat, sir; there's juggling in this business;
I am as confident of it as I am alive.
The king might within this twenty-four hours
Have made a peace on fair conditions.

Plan. But dishonourable.

Ino. And would not—
On a sudden useth the ambassadors scurvily,
And provokes the Argives, yet himself
In no posture of defence.

Plan. But——

Ino. Pray give me leave, sir.
After this, you are on a sudden created general,
And pack'd away with a crowd of unhewn fellows,
Whose courage hangs as loose about them
As a slut's petticoats. Sir, he had other spirits
In the court created for such perils.
Excuse me, I know you fear not to meet destruction;
But where men are sure to perish,
'Twere well the persons were of less concernment.
He might have let you stay'd till you had gather'd
An army fit for your command, and sent
Some petty things upon this expedition
Whose loss would have been nothing, and of whom
It might have been recorded in our story
As an honour, that they died monuments
Of the king's folly. But let that pass;
You'll say perhaps, you only have a spirit
Fit for such undertakings? I wish you had not;
Your want then would not be half so grievous.
But here is the prodigy! you must fight them presently.
Come, 'tis a project put into the king's head
By some who have a plot on you and him.

Plan. It may be so, Inophilus, and I believe
All this is true you tell me, and 't might startle
A man were less resolv'd than I.
But danger and I have been too long acquainted
To shun a meeting now; I am engaged, and
Cannot any ways come off with reputation.
Hadst told me this before, perhaps I might
Have thought on't; and yet I should not neither.
If the king thinks I am grown dangerous,
It is all one to me which way he takes
Me from his fears. He could not do it
Handsomer than thus; it makes less noise now—
But come, I must not fear such things, Inophilus:
The king hath more virtue and honour than
To do these actions, fit only for guilty souls;
Nor must I fear, when my Inophilus fights by me.

Ino. Troth, sir, for all your compliment, if you've
No valour but what owes itself to my company, you're like
To make cold breakfast of your enemies:
I have other business than to throw away
My life, when there is so much odds against it:
I'll stay at home, and pray for you, that's all, sir.

Plan. How! wilt not go then, Inophilus?

Ino. The time hath been, I thought it better sport
To bustle through a bristly grove of pikes;
When I have courted rugged danger with
Hotter desires than handsome faces,
And thought no woman half so beautiful
As bloody gaping wounds:
But, sir,
To go and cast away myself now would not
Be gallant, nor an action worth my envy:
'Tis weakness to make those that seek my ruin
Laugh at my folly,
With jaws stretch'd wider than the gulf that swallows us.
I know when honour calls me, and when treason counterfeits
Her voice.

Plan. Well, stay at home and freeze,
And lose all sense of glory in
A mistress' arms. Go, perish tamely, drunk
With sin and peace; and may'st thou, since thou dar'st
Not die with them,
Outlive thy noble friends.

Ino. I thank you, sir, but I cannot be angry.

SCENE III.

Enter Nicetes and Aramnes, with some Captains and Soldiers.

Nic. Yonder's the bones o' th' army ralli'd up
Together, but they look'd rather as if
They came home from being soundly beaten.
Methinks such tatter'd rogues should never conquer,
Victory would look so scurvily among 'em,
They'd so bedaub her if she wore clean linen.

Capt. Sir, we wear as sound hearts in these torn breeches,
As e'er a courtier of them all.
We are not afraid of spoiling our hands for want
Of gloves, nor need we almond-butter, when
We go to bed. And though my lieutenant
Is pleased to be a little merry, you
Shall see us die as handsomely in these old clothes
As those wear better, and become our wounds
As well, and perhaps smell as sweet
When we are rotten.

Plan. We hope it.
Captains and fellow-soldiers, we are proud
Of this occasion to try your valours;
You shall go no farther than your prince doth,
I'll be no bringer up of rears. Let not
The number of the foe affright you,
The more they are, the more will the honour be.
The lion scorns to prey upon a hare,
Nor is the blinking taper fit to try eagles' eyes.
The weight of glory makes our danger light.
When victory comes easily, 'tis half
A shame to conquer.

[Soldiers shout, and exeunt.

Ino. I'll stay at home, and grieve, that so many
Daring souls should die on such advantage.

[Exit Inophilus.

SCENE IV.

Enter the King solus.

King. Her husband dead too! Fates, let me die,
I am too happy to remain long thus
Without a ruin, great as the height I fell from.
Plangus was my only obstacle; but him I have
Removed. But love commanded:
His presence would have countermanded all attempts;
I need not fear his magic at this distance.
His looks and actions were one entire enchantment,
All[84]-powerful over a lady's heart.
I sent for her; but she's not come yet.
Who waits without?

Enter Artesio.

Art. There's a mourning lady, sir,
Would speak with the king.

King. Admit her, and begone.

SCENE V.

Enter Andromana in mourning, with a hood over her face, which she throws up when she sees the King.

King. So riseth Phœbus from the gloomy night,
While pale-fac'd Dian maketh haste to hide
Her borrow'd glory in some neighb'ring cloud,
Envying the beauty of the new-born day,
When darkness crowds into the other world.
Madam, why kneel you? You, at whose name monarchs

[She kneels.

Themselves might tremble, and mortals bow
With reverence great as they pay to altars:
Sceptres should break in pieces and adore you;
At whose sight the sun and moon should blush
Themselves to blood and darkness, and falling
From their sphere, crush the audacious world to atoms,
For daring to behold a lustre so much greater
Than their own.

And. Sir, give me leave to wonder
What sin I have committed, which calling
Down the vengeance of the gods,
Hath made me author of all this blasphemy.
Sir, I beseech your majesty, if you are angry
With your creature, speak some cruel word and blast me.
Scorn me not into the other world, where I have
Sins enough of my own to blush for, and shall not need
To dye his cheeks for other men's offences.

King. Lady, though Parthian darts are not so sharp
As are those killing words; yet that breath, which
Utters them is sweeter than the morning dew.
I'll be dumb, for praises cannot add, but rather
Diminish Andromana's worth.

And. I wonder now no longer at this language,
'Tis such as kings are bred in.
But I beseech you, sir, if there be aught
You will command your servant—if Andromana
Must do or suffer anything for great Ephorbas,
Lay by yourself a minute, and remember
A merchant's wife must hear you.

King. Your husband Leon's dead, I hear, lady—

[She weeps.

Nay, spare those pearls, madam; cast not away
Such treasure upon the memory of one
Who, if the best of men, deserves them not.
Come, come, forget these sorrows, lady,
And wear not mourning weeds before the world's
Destruction; hide not those fair eyes, whose splendour
Would enrich our court. Madam, though none
There be in court can merit such a beauty,
Yet I myself have taken pains to search
A husband for you: what think you of myself?

And. Great sir, your care is, like yourself, all noble;
But suits with me no better
Than Phœbus' horses did with Phaeton,
Ruin'd the world and him. First, sir, you do
Debase yourself to honour her, whose worth
Is less considerable than lovers' oaths:
My husband's ashes are scarce cold yet,
And would your majesty have me forsake
My honour and his memory so soon? I have
Not paid oblations due to's ashes yet.

King. You compliment away the worth we know
You have, Andromana: what say you to the prince?

And. I say he is the prince, and great Ephorbas' son;
He's Plangus: and if you think there yet remains
A title that can be either better or greater,
I think him worthy of it.

King. But dost [thou] think him worthy Andromana?

And. O heavens! Is Jove worth heav'n,
Or doth the sun deserve to be a light
To all the world? Can virtue deserve honour,
Or labour riches? Can gods merit altars?
It might have been a puzzling question
To them whose ears have not been bless'd
With Plangus' worth. But this is so below him——

King. But say he loves thee?

And. I dare not say so:
For when I think a prince pretends to such poor things
As I am, I feel an ice runs through my veins,
And my blood curdles into flakes of snow,
And bids me fear him—not with an awe or reverence,
But as a spotted sinful thing, which is
The worse for being great. 'Tis such a fear,
As I should conceive 'gainst an armed ravisher.

King. These things may be expected, lady, I confess,
From blood that boils in flames hot as the sun
In scorching Libra, or sturdy Hercules,
When he unmaiden'd fifty in one night;
But from a man whose years have tam'd those vices,
Whose love is dotage and not lust,
Who doth adore a handsome virtue, and pays
His vows to't, you should have other hopes.
Plangus is young, a soldier, and by consequence
Something which youth excuses. But Ephorbas
Hath left these toys behind him, when he shook off
His youth.

And. Sir, now my fears are out. O virtue!
Are there just pow'rs which men adore, and throw
Away their pray'rs upon, that lend their eyes
To human actions? or was the name of heaven
Invented to still petty sinners?
Sir, sure, I am mistaken,
You are not great Ephorbas, sir, whose virtue
Is a theme of wonder to all neighbour nations;
Pray help me to him, I would see that angel;
The kingdom's honour and [all] good men's sanctuary.
But if you are the man, whom I have pray'd for
Oft'ner than I have slept; pray, sir, belie not
A virtue which I've hitherto admired.

King.I see
You are a stranger, lady—give me leave
To say so—to Ephorbas;
But if a lady of thy melting years
Can love this greyness, I vow my sceptre,
Throne, kingdom, and myself are thine;
Thou'rt fit to be a queen.

[She starts back.

And. A queen! sir, have your subjects anger'd you?
Have they rebell'd, or done some sin that wants
A name? I'll cleave to the pavement, till I have begg'd
A vengeance great as their crime; but this
You mention is a punishment, which your subjects
Must study years to curse you for; no sin
Deserves it. You would blind my eyes with throwing gold
Before 'em,
Or set me up so high on the steep pinnacle
Of honour's temple, that you would have me not be
Able to look down on my own simplicity.
You can create me great, I know, sir,
But good you cannot. You might compel,
Entice me too, perhaps, to sin. But
Can you allay a gnawing conscience,
Or bind up bleeding reputation?
I did never hear that physic could afford
A remedy for a wounded honour.

Eph. Thou'rt a fool, Andromana. You must be mine.
Consider on't.

And. You may command your vassal.

King. That's kindly said.

And. But—I humbly take my leave;
Goodness protect you!

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Enter Rinatus, Eubulus, and Aramnes.

Eph. Wait on that lady forth.

Rin. Would there were not a woman in the world,
So we had our prince again! Sir, are you mad?
Or have forgot you are a father? You
Have undone us all.

Eph. Why, what's the matter?

Rin. O sir, the prince——

Eph. He is not dead, Rinatus, is he?

Rin. Sir, if he be, 'tis you have murder'd him:
Was it for this you were so jealous t'other day?
May my Inophilus never pretend to virtue,
I'll teach him a more thriving art.
Come to the window a little, sir, and hear
How the good people curse you. As cold weather
As it is, some are so hard at it, they sweat again.

Eph. Prythee, unriddle; hast thou drunk hemlock,
Since I saw thee last?

Rin. I would not be in my wits for anything
I' th' world; my grief would kill me if I were.
He's mad that will speak sense or reason,
Now you have thrown away our prince thus:
Whose innocence was clearer than his own eyes:
Can you think how you have murder'd so much virtue,
And not blush yourself to death?

Eph. I think indeed I sent him general
Against the Argives; but—'twas his own desire.

Rin. 'Twas not his own desire, sir, to have
But thirteen thousand men, sir, was it?
Was that army fit to oppose great Argo?
There came a messenger just now, that saw
The prince not sixteen miles from hence
(For thither is the foe marched) draw up his men
T' engage the enemy.

Eph. For heav'n's sake,
Rinatus, post him back again, bid him retreat;
Command my son from me
Not to go on till greater forces follow him.
If it be possible, redeem the error;
I'd give my kingdom, life, or anything,
It were to do again.

Rin. I am glad to see this now;
Heav'n send it be n't too late!

Eph. Nay, stand not prating.

[A horn within.

Rin. 'Tis from the army, sir. O heaven, I fear!

Eph. If from the army, prythee, put on better looks.

Enter Messenger.

Mes. Your son—nay more, your dying son—
Commanded me to bring you word,
He died true to his honour, king, and countrymen;
Nor let me stay to see the brightest lamp
Go out, that ever grac'd this orb.

[The King faints.

Rin. O heaven, the king! why this is worse, sir,
Than the other; let us not lose you both.

Eph. Let me but hear how 'twas he made his exit,
And then my glass is run: I will not live
One minute longer.

Mes. Sir, thus it was——
'Tis scarce three hours ago, since the brave Plangus
Marched from Lixa with an army,
Whose souls were richer than their clothes by far,
Though their valour had put on all the bravery
That soldiers ever wore. The prince, whose presence
Breathed new fire into these flaming spirits,
Resolv'd to meet the enemy with his handful,
And with a winged speed fell down to th' Elean Straits,
Determining to try it with him there.[85] His soldiers also,
True sons of war, contemning so great odds,
When victory and their country was to crown
The conquerors, whetted their eager valours
With impatient expectation of the enemy
Who, trusting to his multitude, came on
Wing'd both with scorn and anger to see, that paucity
Should dare dispute victory against their odds.
Plangus who, though he saw, yet could not fear
Destruction, and scorn'd to avoid it,
When the king commanded him to meet it,
Marshall'd his army to the best advantage,
And having given Zopiro the left wing,
The body to Evarnes, himself chose out the right;
Because he would be opposite to Argo.
And keeping a reserve, as great as could be hop'd for
From so small a company—not above five hundred men,
He gave the command of them to Zenon,
Who with his fellows took it ill they should
Be so long idle, and had not the honour
To be thought worthy
To die with the most forward, and would, no question,
Have refused the charge; but that the smiling
Prince promis'd them they should have time to die.
Words here were useless, nor had he time to use them.

Rin. What, was Inophilus idle all this while?

Mes. I only heard the prince wish, just as he
Spurred his horse against the valiant Argo,
He had fewer by a thousand men:
So he had Inophilus.

Rin. O traitorous boy!

Mess. The prince and Argo met; and like
Two mighty tides encountered. Here death
Put on her sable livery, and the two gallants,
Whose valour animated each army, bandied a long time
With equal force, till at last
Great Argo fell.
And, on a sudden, multitudes of men
Accompani'd him, so that the wing
Went presently to rout and execution.
Zopiro also and Evarnes, having slain
Their opposite leaders, breath'd death and destruction
To their reeling foes. Thus flush'd
With victory and blood, th' Iberians revell'd
Th[o]rough the flying field, till there came on
The enemy's reserve of twenty thousand men,
Who, fresh and lusty, grinded their teeth for anger
At their fellows' overthrow, and pouring on
Our weary soldiers, turn'd the stream of victory.
But the prince's valour and good fortune soon
O'ercame this opposition, and having rallied
His broken troops, went to relieve his friends,
Who had far'd worse; when presently he saw
Evarnes, who had pil'd up enemies about him,
As an obelisk of his own death and victory,
Fall bleeding at his foot, and having kiss'd it
With his dying lips, entreated him to save
Himself for a more happy day, and died.
'Twas not long after the gallant Zenon
Who had perform'd that day deeds of eternal fame,
And with his few, spite of opposition, thrice charg'd
And routed some thousands of the enemy,
Expir'd; which when the prince beheld,
Weeping for anger, he flew amongst his enemies,
Sustain'd only by the greatness of his courage,
For blood and strength had both forsook him;
He spent that spark of life was left in him,
In slaughter and revenge, when leaning on
His weapon's point, that dropp'd with blood as fast
As he, he then conjur'd me with all speed
Only to tell the king I saw him
Die worthy of his father and himself.

[A horn without. A shout.

Eph. O heaven! what mean these acclamations? What, do

[A shout again.

The Iberians welcome their bloody conquerors
With so much joy?

SCENE VII.

Enter Plangus, Inophilus, and Zopiro, Captains.

Eph. O, O!

[He faints.

Rin. O cowardly boy! for that base word includes
All baseness, doth not shame kill thee,
Or fear chill thy dastard blood to an ice,
At sight of that most noble injur'd ghost?
'Tis well, dear Plangus (if thy divinity deserve not
A more lasting name) that thou art come
To take revenge on that most traitorous son,
In's father's presence, who detests his baseness
More than thyself can do——

Plan. Excuse us, dear Rinatus,
That wonder froze to such a silence,
If when we expected such a welcome
As had that Roman son whose mother died
For joy to see him, we found so cold
An entertainment, something made us look'd upon
So like an inconvenience, that we could
Not but put on some small amazement.

Eph. And do I hear thee speak again,
And see thee, or only dream a happiness,
Whose reality stars and my genius deny me?
Or art thou Plangus' angel, come to rouse
Me from despair?

Plan. Sir, pray, believe it; and be not
Backward in th' entertainment of these soldiers,
If you esteem't a happiness; in a word,
You are a conqueror: and th' audacious Argives
Have paid their lives as sacrifices
To your offended sword.

Eph. A messenger of comfort to a despairing lover
Is a less acceptable thing than this thy presence;
If what yon fellow told me were untruth,
Thy welcome sight hath amply made amends
For those tormenting fears he put me to.
But if it were not, let me know what chance
Redeem'd you?

Plan. If you have heard how things then went, when I
Sent away that messenger——

Eph. Yes, I have heard it.

Plan. Then know, when death and our own fates had sworn
Our ruin, and we, like some strong wall that long
Resists the iron vomits of the flaming cannon,
At last shakes itself into a dreadful ruin
To those who throw it down; so had the Iberians,
With valour great as the cause they fought for,
Strove with a noble envy, who should first[86]
Outgo his fellow in slaughtering the Argives:
At last, oppress'd with multitude and toil,
We sunk under the unequal burden;
Then was our emulation chang'd, and who before
Strove to outdo each other, now eagerly contended
To run the race of death first. Sir, there it was
I (and many other braver captains) fell,
Being one wound from head to foot. O, then
It was Inophilus came in,
With about twenty other gallants, and with what speed
The nimble lightning flies from east to west,
Redeem'd this bleeding trunk, which the
Insulting Argive had encompass'd,
Blown up with victory and pride; he with
A gallantry like none but great Inophilus,
Being bravely back'd by his own soldiers,
Whose actions spoke them more than men, had not
Inophilus been by, redeem'd the honour
Of a bleeding day. And thus are[87] [now] our troops,
As little in number[88] as their valour great,
Enrich'd with victory, blood, and jewels,
Of which the opposite army wanted no store,
Return'd with the renown of an achievement,
As full of glory and honour to the conquerors,
As ruin to the Argives.

Ino. My liege,
Had this action and my merit been so great
As our prince would make it, I then might
Own it, and expect reward.——
But it was so small, so much below my duty,
That I must, upon my knees, beg pardon
That I came no sooner.

Eph. This is a prodigy
Beyond whatever yet was wrote in story.
Inophilus, we have been too backward
In cherishing thy growing virtue, we will
Hereafter mend it.
And, dear Rinatus, be proud of thy brave son,
And let the people honour the remaining army;
We shall esteem it as a favour done to us.
We have a largess for your valorous captains,
You have not fought in vain.
This day let our court put on its greatest jollity,
And let none wear a discontented brow;
For where a frown is writ, we'll think it reason
To say, that face hath characters of treason.

[Exeunt.

---

ACT III., SCENE 1.

Enter Plangus and Inophilus.

Ino. But, sir, when you consider she's a woman——

Plan. O dear Inophilus!
Let earth and heav'n forget there are such things;
Or if they ever name them, let it be
With a curse heavy as are the ills they act. A mandrake's note
Would ring a better peal of music in my ears,
Than those two syllables pronounc'd again.

Ino. Pray, sir, put off this humour,
This peevish pet, and reason tamely. Sir,
You've lost a wench, and will you therefore lose
Yourself too? Hear me but patiently a word.[89]

Plan. Prythee, go teach the galley-slaves that word,
Things that dare own no thought beyond their chains,
And stand in fear of whipping and wanting bread.
Bid them be tame and patient that fry in sulphur:
'Tis a word I've forsworn to know the meaning of;
Or if I must, 'tis but to shun it, and hate it more.
O, were thy wrongs as great as mine, Inophilus,
Or didst thou love but half so well as Plangus,
Thou wouldst instil into me the poison of revenge,
And puff me up with thought of vengeance
Till I did burst, and, like a breaking cloud,
Spread a contagion on those have injur'd me.

Ino. Why, this were handsome in some country-fellow,
Whose soul is dirty as the thing he's mad for:
'Twere pretty in a lady that had lost her dog;
[Her dog;] but——

Plan. I know what thou wouldst say—
But for Plangus. O, 'tis for none but him to
Be so. Those that have injur'd me are persons
I once held dearer than my eyes; but how much
Greater was my love, so much more is th' offence;
Wounds from our friends are deepest.
Had any but my father—and yet methinks
That name should have protected me; or was it
Made only to secure offenders?
My life was his, he gave it me: my honour, too,
I could have parted with; but, 'las, my love
Was none of mine, no more than vows made to
A deity and not perform'd. And for that creature,
Who must be lost for ills, through which I must
Make way to my revenge—
Had she betray'd my honour to anything
But him that gave me being, she had made
Me half amends, in that my way to vengeance
Had been open. Now I am spurr'd forward
To revenge by fury, and yet held in by the rein
Of a foolish piety, that doth no man good
But them that use it not.
'Tis like the miser's idol, it yielded him
No gold till he had broke the head off.
Nay, Inophilus, one secret more,
And the horror of it blow thee from earth to heaven,
Where there are no such things as women:
'Twill turn thy soul the inside outward:
I cannot get it out. Prythee what is't, Inophilus?

Ino. Alas, I know not, sir.

Plan. Do but imagine the worst of ills
Earth ever groan'd under; a sin nothing but woman,
Nay, such a woman as Andromana, durst think on;
And it is that.

Ino. How revenge transports you!
Princes have lost their mistresses before,
Nay, and to those have not such right to them,
As hath Ephorbas to what Plangus hath.
Who could command her, if not Ephorbas?

Plan. But I have—O Inophilus, I burst—
Yet it will out—dost thou not see it here?

[Unbuttons his doublet.

O, I have known Andromana as
Ephorbas did last night.——

Ino. Why, sir,
The sin done by your father is not yours,
If you could not help it.——

Plan. Why, there it is:
'Tis that which gnaws me here.
But I swore by all the gods that she was
As innocent from my unclean embraces as is
The new-fall'n snow, or ermines that will meet
Ten deaths before one spot: I made my father think
The thoughts of angels were less innocent than she.
No, it was I betray'd him; his virtue was too great
To[90] have suspected it. How do I look, Inophilus?

Ino. Like some bless'd man that, griev'd for others' sins,
Could,[91] out of a good nature, part with half
His own whiteness to purge the others' stains.

Plan. Now thou soothest, and, like some flattering glass,
Present'st me to advantage. I am, in short,
One born to make Iberia unhappy.
Had I as black a face as is my soul, you would
Find in respect of it Ægyptians were snow-white.
Methinks I hear Heaven tell me I am slow,
And it is time I had begun revenge.
Ephorbas has done him wrong, who lov'd him
More than heaven or his happiness, and would
Have run out of the world to have left him
Free [to] whatever he would lay claim to, but
Andromana—
Nay, she also had been
His, so it could have been without a sin.
But she knew the sin she acted, and yet did it;
And [yet she] lives free from the stroke of thunder!
Is there such a thing as heaven, or such a one
As Justice dwells there? and can I ask the question?
O, the tameness of a conscience loaded with sin.
Which reasons and talks, when it should do!
But I will be reveng'd, and thus I begin. Inophilus,

[He draws.

Be sure, when I am dead, to meet my ghost,
And do as that instructs thee. 'Twill tell all the particulars
Of my revenge, who must die first, who last, and
What way too. I have my lesson perfect.

[He leans the pommel on the ground to fall on it: Inophilus kicks it by with his foot.

Ino. Is this the revenge befits great Plangus?

Plan. Had this been done two days ago, thou durst
As well have met the lightning naked
As have opposed my will thus.

[He draws.

Ino. Hear me;
Ask me no questions, nor answer me; or if you do,
By Heav'n, I'll never speak more. It is revenge
You'd have, and 'tis a great one, a very noble one,
To kill yourself! Be confident, your greatest foes
Wish nothing more.
When after-ages come to hear your story,
What will they say? Just as they did of Cato:
He durst not look great Cæsar in the face—
So Plangus was afraid, and died.
A very pretty story, and much to a man's credit:
For shame, dear Plangus (let friendship use that title):
Show your great soul the world believes you're master of—
And I dare swear you are in this action.
Nay, rally up yourself, and fight it stoutly.
Shake from your mind revenge, and having laid
That passion by, put on that virtue the world
Admires in you; 'tis now the time to show it.
The sun, broke from a cloud, doubles his light;
And fire, the more resisted, flames more bright.
Andromana has injur'd you; scorn her, therefore,
As though[92] she had done nothing; I'd not do her the favour
To have one thought of her, or could be troubled
At that she did. As for your father, sir,
Besides the tie of nature, he knows not
He hath wrong'd you: or if he doth,
'Tis love that caus'd him;
A word that once made an excuse with Plangus
For what offence soever.

Plan. Thou hast wrought upon me,
And I am resolved to live a day or two more:
But if I like it not—well, I'll go try
To sleep a little; perhaps that may—I am
Strangely melancholy: prythee, lie down by me,
Inophilus, I'm safe while in thy company.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Plangus, as from sleep.

Plan. Lord! how this spirit of revenge still haunts me,
And tempts me with such promis'd opportunity,
And magnifies my injuries! Sometimes
It calls me coward, and tells me conscience,
In princes who are injur'd like myself,
Is but an excuse they find for what is in truth
Poorness of spirit or something baser.
It tells me 'tis a sin to be good, when all
The world is bad.
It makes me look upon myself, whilst wearing
This garb of virtue, like some old antiquary
In clothes that are out of fashion in Iberia.
But I will not yield to it: I know it is a greater glory
To a man's self (and he that courts opinion
Is of a vulgar spirit) to disobey than satisfy
An appetite which I know is sinful.
Good Heaven, guard me, how am I tempted

Enter Andromana.

To put on my former temper! but thus
I fling it from me.

[Throws away his sword.

SCENE III.

And. Why, how now, prince? if you part with your darling
So easily, there is small hopes but you
Have thrown all love behind you.

Plan. Heaven, how she's alter'd!
I, that once swore Jove from the well-tun'd sphere
Ne'er heard such harmony as I did when
She spake: methinks I can now, in comparison
Of her voice, count screech-owls' music,
Or the croaking toad.

[Aside.

And. Who is't you speak of, sir?

Plan. Tempt me not, madam, with another word;
For, by Heaven, you know I'm apt, being incens'd——
Wake not those wrongs, that bellow louder in
My soul than wretches in the brazen bull, or Jove
Who speaks in thunder; those wrongs my goodness
Had half laid aside—or if you do,
I have a soul dares what you dare tempt me to.

And. Sir, I must speak,
Though Jove forbad me with a flash of lightning.
You think perhaps, sir, I have forgot my Plangus?
But, sir, I have infinitely injur'd you,
And could not satisfy my conscience—if I
Should say my love too, I should not lie—
Till I had ask'd your pardon.

Plan. Madam, the fault's forgiven and forgotten,
Without you move me to remember't with
A worse apology. Live and enjoy your sins
And the angry gods. Nay, the severest plague
I wish you is, that you may die
Without one cross (for afflictions commonly teach
Virtues to them that know them not while prosperous)
Secure, without one thought or sense of a repentance.

And. Methinks you have a steely temper on, to that
Which the other day you wore, when you were
More soft than down of bees. But, sir, if you
But knew the reason why I've done the action
Which you perhaps call treason to our loves,
You would forbear such language.

Plan. Reason!
No doubt the man that robs a church, or profanes altars,
Hath reason for what he doth: to satisfy your lust,
You have that reason, madam.

And. That I have loved you once,
I call Heaven, my own heart, and you to witness;
Now, by that love, by all those vows have pass'd
Betwixt us, hear me.

Plan. O Heaven! is that a conjuration!
Things you have broke, with as much ease as politicians
Do maxims of religion! But I will hear,
To know you and to hate you more. Speak on.

And. You know whilst Leon liv'd, whose due they were,
I out of love resign'd my love and honour
Unto your——

Plan. Lust, madam.

And. I know not, sir:
Your eloquence gave it that title then.
How many dangers walk'd I fearless through
To satisfy your pleasures, your very will—
Nay more, your word—nay, if I thought by sympathy
A thought of yours, that I imagin'd you
Might blush to speak, I made it straight my own,
And work'd and studied as much to put it into act,
As doth a gamester upon loss to compass money.
At last we were betray'd, sir, to your father's spies, who
Denied us afterwards those opportunities we stole
Before, befriended by my husband's ignorance.
Now was I brought to that which is the worst of ills,
A seeing, but not enjoying of that which I held dearest.
To see you daily, and to live without you,
Was a death many degrees beyond my own.
I knew the love was great, so great
I durst not own it. Nay more, I knew
It was noble too, so noble, I knew
My husband being dead, you would not stick
To ask your father's leave for public marriage.

Plan. Heaven and the gods can witness I intended it.

And. Nay, farther yet, I knew your father's love,
Which would not have denied you anything,
Would also have granted that.

Plan. Madam, you riddle strangely.

And. When I had
Forecast these easy possibilities, I yet
Foresaw one thing that crossed our designs—
That was a sense of honour I had in me.
Methought in honour I could not condescend
You should debase yourself so low. It pleas'd me
Better to be your mistress than your queen;
And stol'n embraces, without the scandal
Of a public eye, were sweeter than those
Which might bring upon me—for rising greatness
Is still envied—the rancour of the people,
And consequent distaste[93] against their prince.
Sir, now we may act safely what might have
Been less secure. Your father's name gives a protection——
Or, if that startle you, we'll call him husband!

Plan. Are you in earnest?

And. As serious as love can be.

Plan. Then I want words to tell you how I hate you:
I would sooner meet Megæra 'tween a pair of sheets.
And can you think I should have so small pity,
As to be false unto my father's bed?
That I lov'd you once, I confess with shame;
And that I should have done so still, had you
Preserv'd those flames, I think of now with horror.
But for those sins, and whatsoever else
I must repent, I shall no doubt have great
Occasion, when I shall see th' kingdom
Envelop'd in those swarms of plagues your sins
Call down, and feel a share of them myself.
For heaven's sake, madam! for my father's sake,
Nay, for my own, if that have any interest,
Learn now at last a virtue, that may make us
As happy as much as hitherto unfortunate,
And render your story to posterity so burnish'd
With your shining goodness, that their eyes may not
Perceive the error of your former years.
Perhaps I then shall have a reverence for you,
As great as any son hath for a father's wife.
You wonder, lady, to see me talk thus different
From what you saw me half an hour ago.
I look'd upon myself as one that had lost
A blessing. But heaven hath been happier to me;
For I am now so far from thinking you one,
That I look upon you as a plague no sin
Of good Ephorbas could deserve. But love
To you——

And. Sir!

Plan. Answer me not in words, but deeds;
I know you always talk'd unhappily,[94]
And if your heart dare do what's ill,
I know it can well teach your tongue excuses.

[Exit Plangus.

SCENE IV.

And. And is my love then scorn'd?
The chaos of eternal night possess my breast,
That it may not see to startle at any
Undertakings, though they would make
Medusa's snakes curl into rings for fear.
If greatness have inspired me with thoughts
Of a more brave revenge, they shall be acted.
A husband's murder was such a puny sin,
I blush to speak it; but it was great enough
For a merchant's wife: a queen must be more
Daring in her revenge, nor must her wrath
Be pacifi'd under a whole kingdom's ruin.

SCENE V.

Enter Libacer.

My better genius, thou art welcome as
A draught of water to a thirsty man:
I ne'er had need of thee till now.
Muster those devils dwell within thy breast,
And let them counsel me to a revenge
As great as is my will to act it.

Lib. Madam, leave words. The rest you take
In breathing makes your anger cool. Out with it,
And if I do it not; if I startle at
Any ill to do you service, though it be
To kill my mother, let me be troubled with
The plague of a tender conscience, and lie
Sick of repentance a half year after.

And. What need I tell thee more?
Plangus must die, and after him Ephorbas,
Because he is his father.

Lib. Madam, he shall. But give me leave to ask you
How he, for whom alone of all the world
You had a passion, is now become
An object of your hatred so great, as others
Must die because they have relation to him?

And. The air is hot yet with those words I proffer'd him
In satisfaction, and he refus'd it.
What need I speak?
Is't safe that he should live knows so much by us?

Lib. He had been happy had he never known
What virtue meant. I wonder that paltry thing
Is not banish'd earth, it ne'er did any good yet.
Beggary's a blessing to't; whoe'er grew rich
By virtue? Madam, we are not troubled with it.
But to our business:—I have thought a way.
You know his father loves him. 'Tis he shall ruin him,
And let's alone for him.

And. Pish! pish! that cannot be.

Lib. These women are always with their cannots.
What cannot be? Have you but read
The Sophy,[95] you will find that Haly
(O, how I hug that fellow's name!) ruin'd
Great Mirza by his father, and his father by his son.
That great politician, while all the court
Flam'd round about him, sat secure, and laugh'd,
Like those throw fireworks among the waving people
That have nothing but fire and smoke about them,
And yet not singe one hair. Indeed he fell at last,
'Tis true; but he was shallow in that part o' th' plot.
What have we his example [for] but to learn by it?
Praise Plangus to Ephorbas then so far,
That first he may fear for his kingdom;
And if you do proceed till he grew jealous of
His bed, 'twill do the better.
The king is coming, I must be gone.

[Exit Libacer.

SCENE VI.

Enter Ephorbas.

Eph. How fares Andromana?
I'm glad this greatness sits so well about thee;
My court was bless'd that hour I knew thee first.
We'll live and still grow happy; we shall flourish
Like some spreading tree that shall never cease
Till its proud height o'erlook the skies. I hope
I bad fair for a boy to-night. How happy
Should I count myself could I but leave
My kingdom something that had thy image in't.

And. Sir, never think
Iberia can be happy in another son,
When such a prince as Plangus lives the heir,
Who is the subject of all men's pray'rs—nay,
The deserver too. There's not a man or woman
In the kingdom hath one good wish within their breast
But they straight bestow it upon Plangus:
A prince whom mothers show their little children
As something they should learn betime
To worship and admire.

Eph. I know, Andromana; but——

And. Sir, virtue's perfection
Is at the height in him. Whatever after
Ages bear, or give the name of worth to,
Must, if compar'd to him, be but as foils
To set his glory off the brighter.
Nor are the men only thus taken with him;
There's not a lady in the land but sighs
With passion for him, and dreams on him a-nights.
Husbands grow jealous of him, yet with joy
That they are Plangus' rivals.

Eph. All this is nothing.
Men talk'd as loud of me when I was young.

And. Yea, but they say, sir, you were
Not half so mincing in your carriage, nor so majestic.
Besides——

Eph. I hope they do not make comparisons.

[Starts.

And. Sir, I thought we could not have discours'd on a
More welcome theme than what is full of Plangus.

Eph. No more you cannot. Let him as a less star
Enjoy his splendour, but it must not be so great
To darken me; but, prythee, do they compare us then?

And. You're discompos'd, sir!—I have done.

Eph.Nay, nothing
But the remembrance of a foolish dream—what say they?

And. Why, sir, some went so far to say, they wonder'd
A lady of my years could marry the father,
Though a king, when I might have had Plangus himself.

Eph. They did not?

And. Then I confess I blush'd, and had been out
Of temper, but that I thought it might be
The court fashion to talk boldly.

Eph.This story jump'd
Just with my dream to-night;[96] but methought I saw
Him threat'ning to kill me 'cause thou hadst married me——
But the young saucy boy shall know I hold
My sceptre strong enough to crush him into atoms.
Did they not name Inophilus?

And. I think they did. He had some share
Of praises too; but it was so as gleanings
To a loading cart, they sometimes fell beside.

Eph. Then I am satisfied. 'Tis an aspiring youth: 'tis something
That unites Plangus and him so. I must
Be speedy in resolves.

[Exit Ephorbas.

SCENE VII.

And. Who waits without there?

Enter Libacer.

O, art thou come? Stay, let me breathe, or else——

Lib. Nay, spare your pains, I know it all; I saw him
Drink it with as great greediness as usurers
Do unthrifts' lands, or jealous husbands confirm
Their cuckoldships by ocular testimony.

And. It took most rarely,
Beyond our hopes. I'll leave the rest to thee,
Thou art so fortunate in all designs. Go on and prosper.

Lib. And I'll attend for an opportunity to meet
With Plangus, and betray him to ruin
As great as unavoidable.

[Exeunt.

---

ACT IV., SCENE 1.

Enter Ephorbas, solus.

Eph. For aught I know, my bed may be the next;
Men are not bad by halves, nor doth one mischief
Stop a man in his career of sin.
There's as much reason i' th' one as th' other.
Doth he affect my kingdom, 'cause I'm old?
No, that's not it; he knows I must die shortly.
'Tis not a desire of rule, and glory of
Their bending knees makes him forget his duty.
He may as well covet Andromana, 'cause she's handsome.
He satisfies a lust alike in both. Well, let him be
My rival in the kingdom; 'tis but what
He was born to, and I must leave it him;
But for my wife he must excuse me—nay,
He shall [Pauses.]——Yet now I think on't better,
The grounds are slender, and my suspicions slight;
No evidence against him but the people's love,
And that's no fault of his, unless deserving
Be a crime. Who is without there?

Enter Libacer.

Go, call in Plangus, and bid him not stay,
For I must speak with him.

[Exit King.

SCENE II.

Lib. Nay, then, all's dashed, if once he comes to parley.
I must not have them talk. But here he is.

SCENE III.

Enter Plangus.

Lib. All health and happiness attend the prince.

Plan. Pray, tell me if you saw the king?
Be short, for I am very melancholy.

Lib. He parted hence just now, but with such
A fury revelling in his looks, there had been
Less danger in a basilisk.

Plan. Went he this way?

Lib. Yes, sir.

[He is going out, but turns short.

Plan. But dost not thou know what mov'd him?

Lib. I heard some such words as these:
My rival in the kingdom——There's evidence against him——
The people's love——Deserving is a crime——
And somewhat else my fear made me forget.

Plan. Who was there with him lately?

Lib. I cannot tell: but about a quarter of an hour ago
He ask'd for you; and every time he nam'd you
He seem'd angry.

Plan. Named me! thou art mistaken.

Lib. I had almost forgot, sir,
I have a message to you from Andromana.

Plan. I will not hear one syllable.

Lib. No!—so she told me; but charged me to speak it,
Or die; for it concerned your life, which she
Held dearer than her own.

Plan. I value it not; but speak the mystery.

Lib. When first her lips began to move, a blush
O'erflow'd her face, as if her heart had sent
Her tainted blood to seek a passage out. Then with
A show'r of tears she told me how inordinate
Desires had made her but this morning tempt you
To th' acting of a sin she would not name;
And that your virtue had so wrought upon her,
She had not left one thing unchang'd.
She loves you still, but with affection
That carries honour and converted thoughts.
And next, she bad me whisper in your ear
(For time was short) that, if you lov'd her or yourself,
Or intended to cherish the people's growing hopes,
You should not come when the king sent for you,
For something had incensed him so highly
Against you, that there was mighty danger in it.
She bad me haste, for time would not permit her
To say more. I was scarce out o' th' chamber,
When your father came and ask'd for you, and bad
Me seek you out with speed. Sir, I should be
Most proud to serve you.

Plan. I thank thee, friend;
But prythee, tell thy mistress
Innocence knows no fear: 'tis for guilty souls
To doubt their safety. If she would have me safe,
My only way is by present appearance to clear
Myself; for I believe my false accusers
Wish nothing more than that I should be absent.

Lib. The devil's in him, sure, he guesseth so right.

[Aside.

She told me so, sir, and would have wish'd you to it;
But that there was a way to serve you better by.
She say'th Ephorbas told her, a few minutes hence
He'd call a council, where they'd consult about you.
The place is hang'd so, that behind the wall, sir,
You may stand secure, and hear what passeth;
And according to what they determine, you may
Provide for your safety; only for more security
She wisheth you would arm yourself. Sir, pray resolve:
She'll pacify the king, that you appear
Not presently.

Plan. Well I will be persuaded:
Tell her, I am resolv'd I will not come.

Lib. Happiness attend you! Half an hour hence I'll wait
Upon you.

[Exit Libacer.

Plan. We shall reward thee.

SCENE IV.

Plan. Whence should this kindness come? and on a sudden too?
A strange alteration! She who a day ago
Forgot the vows her soul was fetter'd in,
And but this morning tempted me to a sin
I can scarce think on without fear, should on
An instant be careful for my safety, and
That from a principle of virtue too!

SCENE V.

Enter Inophilus.

Ino. Who was that with you, sir, just now?

Plan. An honest fellow certainly, but one I know not.

Ino. An honest fellow call you him?
If he have not rogue writ in great letters in's face,
I have no physnomy.[97] Pray, sir, what was
His business to you?

Plan. A message from Andromana
Who, out of love, desires me not to go to
My father, because something hath put him in
A fume against me.

Ino. Did the king send for you?

Plan. He did so.

Ino. But upon her entreaty you forbore to go?

Plan. What then?

Ino. Then you are mad, sir.
And tacitly conspire to your own ruin.
Do, take an enemy's advice, and die, the object
Both of their joy and scorn. Where are
Your senses, sir, or pray, whence springs
This friendship of Andromana's? Alas! you should not
Measure her malice by the smallness of your own.
She has injur'd you, she knows it, sir; and though
At present she enjoys her treachery, she may
Soon fall beside it; Ephorbas is not immortal,
Nor can she promise to herself security,
When you have power to call her ills in question.
Were't nothing else, her safety would make her
To plot your death. I hinder you in talking;
But pray begone, and when you see your father,
Speak boldly to him, or you're gone for ever.

Plan. I tell thee once again, Inophilus,
Since I have said I would not go
Both heaven and thee shall want a motive
To make me stir one foot. Were danger just
Before me, running with open jaws upon me;
And had my word been giv'n to remain here,
I would be forc'd from life before my place.

Ino. Here is a bravery now would make a man
Forswear all gallantry! to fool away
Your life thus in a humour!—
I met the court just now, sir: as full of whispers,
Every man's eyes spoke strong amazement.
My father's sent for, with two other lords,
Eubulus and Anamedes; and the Court-gates are lock'd.
Resolve, sir, and command me something,
Wherein I may have an occasion to serve you.

Plan. Then I resolve to do as I am caution'd.
Walk in; I'll tell thee more.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Enter Ephorbas and Libacer.

Eph. What was his answer, then?

Lib. "Tell him, I am resolv'd I will not come,"
Those were the very words, sir.

Eph.'Twas very pretty
[And] resolute, methinks. If he be grown
So stubborn already, the next we must expect
Is action.

Lib. But yet he bids me, if you
Ask'd why he came not, to find some excuse or other.

Eph. He could find none himself then? Call in
The lords: we must be sudden in our execution.
But prythee, one thing more: who was there with him?

Lib. Nobody;
But I met going to him young Inophilus;
And heard one servant tell another in great haste,
Their lord would speak with some o' the captains o' the army.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Enter Rinatus, Eubulus, and Anamedes.

Eph. Sit down, my lords, we have business with you
Requires your hands and hearts, both speed and counsel.
Our danger's such, that I could wish't had flown
Upon us without warning, for so cross the fates are,
Our safety must be bought at such a price,
That we must lose what is as dear to us
Almost as it. 'Tis Plangus' death or mine
Must secure the other's life. Nay, startle not:
If I am grown as wearisome to you as
To him, your calling is in vain, my lords;
Nor shall I labour longer to preserve
A life denied me by the gods and you.
But if there's any here who hath a son
Brought to these years with so much care and love
As mine hath been, think what a grief it is
To lose him, and shed one tear with me.
But for that son to plume himself with feathers
Pluck'd from his father's wings, would melt one's eyeballs.
Yet Plangus, who hath vizarded his ends with virtue,
Finding it useless now, hath thrown it from him,
And openly attempts my crown and life.
When mischief's wheel once runs, how fast it speeds
Headlong to put in act the blackest deeds!
Were my crown his, had he my life to give,
Though he would let me, I would scorn to live.

Eub. Sir, we are called upon a great affair, and if it
Be true, the speed of our resolves
Shall be as great as it.
Your majesty hath reign'd so happily and long,
We will not think a time beyond it.
And such, so great your virtue still hath been,
Strangers have been enamour'd, and admir'd it.
Our enemies, that could have wish'd it less,
Yet have sat down with envy, nor attempted
Aught against you, knowing (I am confident)
By such unjust attempts the gods would be
Their foes. Methinks 'tis therefore much less likely
That Plangus, who hath hitherto been found
A miracle of filial piety, and one
That we may say was born the heir to all
Your virtues, all your goodness, as well as
The kingdom; who counts it glory as much
To be an honest man as a great prince:
I say, for him who, as he is your son,
And as we hitherto have found him full
Of worth and honour, we cannot but behold
As him in whom the spreading hopes of all
Iberia grow, and promise to themselves
A still green happiness, that ne'er shall know,
What autumn or a naked winter means.
For him that hath scarce yet put off
Those clothes, which still wear the badges
Of the great danger he was in, not for
Himself, my liege, but you and us; for had
He wish'd the ruin of his father and his country,
The Argives would have done that for him,
And he not have been call'd in question.
But when we must remember with what wings
He flew to meet the torrent, both against
The counsel of his friends and his own hopes;
How love to you and us spurr'd him on forward
To those impossibilities, which nothing
But love and valour durst have attempted,
Why then, methinks, 'tis strange, yea, very strange,
Thus in a moment t' have flung all nature off
And all religion; and that, sir, against you,
Whom we all well know and think with fear
(But our fading hopes spring fresh from Plangus),
Must shortly pay your tribute to the grave.
Nor that we doubt your majesty hath cause
To apprehend a danger; only 'tis wish'd,
Those who inform'd you were examin'd strictly,
And Plangus sent for to answer for himself.
Slanders, like mists, still vanish at the sight
Of innocents, who bring their lies to light.

Eph. If an oration could have made him clear,
No doubt my fears are vain, and we shall lie
Still sleeping in security as great
And lasting as Plangus and his accomplices
Can wish upon us, nor wake till we are bound
In the securest chains, death's fetters.
That I am old is true, and Plangus knows it.
He would have catch'd a cannon-bullet sooner
Else 'tween his naked hands, than have provok'd
My fury: but [old] age hath froze[n] me
To an icy numbness: yet shall he know
My veins have fire as well as his, and when
Incens'd, my eyes shoot as much poison too.
What you allege about his battle 'gainst the Argives
As an excuse, it is a proof against him.
Though thieves rob others, yet they fight themselves
For those that rob, when strangers set on them,
And all unite against a common enemy.
Had Plangus' private interest not held
Him to us, no doubt he'd [have] left us naked
Of all defence; but an intestine fury,
To see the Argives bear away the fruits
Of all his labours, all his treasons,
Shot him into despair, and made him play
A game was almost lost, rather than give all o'er.
Besides, that action hath endear'd him to the people;
Gain'd him the soldiers' hearts with so great ease,
The danger's nothing in respect o' th' rise
He takes from hence to climb up to his ends.
And for the virtue that hath gull'd us all,
I'd blush to speak it, that a son of mine
Should ever be so base to seek a cloak
For what he doth, but that I have disclaim'd
All my relations to him, and would adopt
A cannibal sooner for a son than he.
The evidence we have is what we wish were less,
Then might I hug my Plangus, and he me;
But since the Fates and his own ills deny
That intercourse, what can remain,
But that we should proceed to sentence
Speedy as themselves, and stop the ill, which may
Strike when 'tis night, or while 'tis call'd to-day?
He knows his guilt too well, and hath denied
To come, that so he might be justified:
Once disobey'd as father, the next thing
Will be rebellion to me as his king.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Libacer.

Rin. As sure as death, this is one of the rogues
That hath his roguery to act, and comes in like
Something that hath brought news in th' latter end
Of a play. Now shall we have some strange discovery—
How the rogue stares!

Lib. No sooner had we shut the gates, my liege,
Than an uncertain rumour spread among the people
That Plangus was in danger.
When, if you ever saw a hive of bees:
How, if you stir but one, the whole swarm moves,
And testify their anger; so straight whole crowds
Of people, the greatest half not knowing what
They came for, swarm'd to the gates, and with confus'd
Cries hinder'd themselves from being understood;
Till some having divers times cried Plangus:
[And] some their prince: all with one note, made up
A common voice, and so continued, till some
Captains, with one or two selected troops, made up
To them, and having promised them they would
Secure the prince, desir'd them to withdraw.
And when they came so nigh as to be heard,
They did in earnest what the other had
Attempted with such[98] noise, and fail'd in;
For they told the porter, in plain soldier's language,
They would either see Plangus safe, or force
The gates upon him. He, in this exigence,
Hath sent to know your pleasure.

Eph. How say you now, my lords? where is
The innocence, the love to you and us?
For my part, I will meet the danger;
Tame expectation is beneath a king.
Only let me entreat you to see my queen safe.
'Tis pity she should smart who hath no sin
To answer for but calling me her husband.
Plangus, Iberia shall be thine; but with curses
O' th' angry gods, and a kind injur'd dying father.

[He goes to stab himself, Rinatus stays him.

Rin. Heav'n bless you, sir, what a despair is this?
Because you hate a hangman, you will be
Your executioner yourself. Believe me,
That which presents so great danger to you,
I look upon with joy. There is no subject
That loves you or the prince, but must be glad
To see the zeal Iberians bear to a true virtue,
When bending under an unjust oppression;
No doubt their love had been as great to you,
Had you been in like danger. Besides, my lord,
You are not sure 'tis with the prince's consent,
The soldiers do this. My life for yours, you will
Be safe, let the worst come. Let us
Go meet your fears.

[They begin to rise, when at the instant Andromana enters undressed, and in a fright.

And. Happy am I, my lord,

[She weeps.

This sudden flight[99] hath rescu'd me from being
Made the subject of some villain's lust, who
With his sword drawn just now was forcing me
To lewd embraces; if you command to search the court,
He cannot be far hence, for he ran that way.

Rin. O impudence!
That durst attempt a sin darkness and woods
Have too many eyes for in the open court.

[Plangus stirs behind the hangings.

I shall be with you. The devil hath
Armour on!

[Rinatus draws, and runs at him.

Eph. Drag him to torture——

[They fetch him out.

My son! why have I liv'd to see this?
Away with him to death; the air will grow infectious.
Why stay you?

SCENE IX.

Enter Zopiro and Inophilus, with Soldiers.

Ino. Unhand the prince, or else by heav'n he treads
Into his grave that moves a foot to touch him.
Madam, though Plangus' noble self was blind,
And could not see the deep black darkness of
Your hellish actions, his friends had eyes about them.
Was this your love? this your repentance?
This your advice, your counsel? Had I, I must confess,[100]
And these his noble friends, been[101] rul'd by him, ere this
He'd been a sacrifice to your revenge and you.
Why stand you mute, sir? Want you a tongue to justify
Your innocence our swords and we maintain?
And now, my liege, we turn to you, whom we
Have serv'd as truly as e'er subjects did
Any prince alive; and whilst you're worthy, we
Will do so still; but we'll be no man's slaves
Alive, much less be his that is another's,
While this base witch (for so she is) constrains
You to do actions children would blush at,
And wise men laugh at, which will after leave you
Both to repentance and despair. This beggar, whom
T'other day you took up as some lost thing,
Gave your honour to, and in that our safety;
That knew less to be good than devils do,
And hath ills lodged in her that would make hell
Beyond that the furies dwell in,
Banish her hence, send her to some place
Where murders, rapines, or sins yet
Unheard of do inhabit, and where she can
Do us no mischief. Do you betake yourself
To your former virtue, and restore the prince
To those affections you once had for him.
We then perhaps may live to see
Iberia happy.

Eph. Why am I forc'd thus to declare his shame,
Which at the bound strikes me, and's made my own?
You know not how well Plangus can dissemble:
He is an hypocrite, I need not tell you more,
Those three syllables comprehend all ill.
My queen just now 'scaped from his base attempt,
Wherein he would have forc'd her to have damn'd
Herself and him, and dishonoured me.
What meant that armour on, and why so guarded?
Where was a danger threat'ned him? or doth he
Think his conscience could not sting him through it?
I wish, my lords,[102] he might live. But, as nature
That, as he is my son, bids me preserve him;
So honour, which pleads to the king stronger
Than nature can, tells me, for that very reason,
I can less pardon him than something born
A stranger to my blood. But I deserve
To die, as well as he. If he be grown
A burden to the earth, I am so too,
That gave the monster being. Wherefore
Let me be drawn to execution too,
For fathers are guilty of their children's ills.

Ino. Would Plangus then have forc'd Andromana?
Yes, so would Daphne have ravish'd Phœbus!
I'll undertake goats are less salt than she.
But for his armour:—can any man that breathes
One common air with her not need an armour?
Brass walls can't be security enough.
Why speak you not, sir? are you dumb too?

Plan. 'Tis for them to speak are sure to be believ'd,
And not for him that is condemn'd as guilty.
Words can excuse slight faults.
If mine are esteem'd such, that all my actions,
A speaking duty of one-and-twenty years,
Speak not enough to clear me, silence shall.
I've no more to say, therefore, but
To bid you do your duty to the king,
And ask him pardon for this[103] intemperate zeal:
Heav'n knows I wish'd it not, nor would I buy
My safety at one of my father's angry thoughts,
Much less his fears, for those I fall by.
Obey my father, and if ye love me, gentlemen,
Shed not one tear for Plangus.
For I am timely taken from those plagues
This woman's crying sins must bring upon
Iberia, and make you wish that you
Had died as soon and innocent as I.

And. That I was nothing, I confess; that what I am,
I owe to Ephorbas; nay, that the greatness
I am now in tells me it is too high
To be secure, my fears bear witness.
I wish my life would excuse Plangus his; at least
My blood wash off the blackness of his guilt,
Heav'n knows it should not be one minute, ere
He should be restor'd to his former virtues;
But since it cannot be, I'll in and weep—
Not for myself, but him.

[Exit.

Ino. Millions of plagues go with thee. Sir [To Plangus], you shall
Along with us; we will not trust you
Or to the king or her.

[Exeunt.

---

ACT V., SCENE 1.

Libacer solus.

Lib. What politician was there ever yet
Who, swimming through a sea of plots and treasons,
Sank not at last i' th' very haven's mouth?
And shall I do so too? No, my thoughts prompt me,
I shall be told in story, as the first
That stood secure upon the dreadful ruins
He had thrown down beneath him. Yet I'm nigh
The precipice I strive to shun with so much care.
I have betray'd Plangus, 'tis true, and still
Have found a growing fortune; but so long
As jealousy binds up Ephorbas' thoughts
From searching deeper, deeper, 'tis not well
That Plangus lives at all: though he be disgrac'd.
H' has friends enow about the king, and they
Will find a time to pacify him, which will be
My undoing. He must not therefore live.
Andromana is of that mind too;
But how to compass it? or when perhaps
I have, what will become of me?
Nothing more usual than for those folks, who
Have by sinister means reach'd to the top
O' th' mountain of their hopes, but they throw down
And forget the power that rais'd them; indeed
Necessity enforceth them, lest others climb
By the same steps they did, and ruin them.
I must not therefore trust her womanship,
Who, though I know she cannot stand without
Me now; yet, when she's queen alone,
Fortune may alter her, and make her look
Upon me as one whose life whispers
Unto her own guilt. 'Tis not safe to be
The object of a princess' fear; then she will find
Others will be as apt to keep her up
As I to raise her. I'll prevent her first.
Time is not ripe yet; but when it is (for
I must walk on with her a little farther)
I will unravel all this labyrinth ev'n
To the king himself. Then let her accuse me,
Though she should damn herself to hell,
I know she'll be believ'd no more
Than Plangus hath been hitherto.
Thus shall I still grow great, though all the world
Be to a dreadful ruin madly hurl'd.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Plangus solus.

Plan. I can no longer hold; 'tis not i' th' power
Of fate to make me less. Bid me outstare
The sun, outrun a falling star,
Feed upon flames, or pocket up the clouds;
Or if there be a task mad Juno's hate
Could not invent to plague poor Hercules,
Impose it upon me, I'll do't without a grudge.
Condemn me to a galley, load me with chains
Whose weight may so keep me down, I can scarce
Swell under my burden to let out a sigh,
I would o'ercome all. Were there a deity
That men adore, and throw their prayers upon,
That would lend just ears to human wishes,
I would grow great by being punished, and be
A plague myself, so that when people curs'd
Beyond invention, to their prodigious rhetoric
This epiphonema should be added,
"Become as miserable as wretched Plangus."
I have been jaded, basely jaded,
By those tame fools, honour and piety,
And now am wak'd into revenge, breathing forth ruin
To those first spread this drowsiness upon
My soul. A woman! O heaven, had I been gull'd
By anything had borne the name of man!
But this will look so sordidly in story:
I shall be grown discourse for grooms and footboys,
Be balladed, and sung to filthy tunes. But do
I talk still? well, I must leave this patience.
And now, Ephorbas,
Since thou hast wrought me to this temper,
I'll be reveng'd with as much skill as thou
Hast injur'd me. I will to these presently, for
My hour-glass shall not run ten minutes longer,
And having kill'd myself before thee,
I'll pluck my heart out, tell thee all
My innocence, and leave thee hemm'd in with
A despair thicker than Egyptian darkness.
I know thou canst not choose but die for grief.
But here he is.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Ephorbas solus.

Eph. Riddle on[104] riddle! I have dream'd this night
Plangus was cloth'd, like innocence, all white;
And Andromana then methought was grown
So black, nothing but all one guilt was shown.
What shall I do? Shall I believe a dream?
Which is a vapour borne along the stream
Of fancy, and sprung up from the gross fumes
Of a full stomach, sent to th' upper rooms
O' th' brain by our ill genius, to spoil our sight,
And cloud our judgments like a misty night.
Why do I doubt? 'tis ominous to stay
Demurring, when the way is plain. Is day
Or night best to judge colours? shall I stand,
Trying the water's soundness, when the land
Presents firm footing? Truth by day appears,
And I from tapers hope to find my fears
Oppos'd. And yet methinks 'tis very strange,
A son of mine should suddenly thus change,
And throw his nature off; I did not so
When I was young. I am resolv'd to know
The truth, and clear this mist from 'fore my eyes,
If't can be done by care, by gold, or spies.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Andromana sola.

And. So badgers dig the holes, and foxes live in them.
Of all factors, state-factors are the worst,
And get least to themselves of all their labour.
This Libacer
Is wading to the throat in blood to do me
Service. Tame fool! can he imagine I
Remove a husband and a son, to suffer him
To live still and upbraid my ills?

Enter Libacer.

Lib. It is resolv'd.
But here she is, I must speak fairly for awhile.

And. How doth it succeed now, my darling?
Shall we be great? [be] great alone?

Lib. As great as pride and fulness of revenge
Can swell us. Hark in your ear, madam,
I'll tell you all our plot; but softly, for
Perhaps the jealous walls may echo back
The treason.

[They whisper.

SCENE V.

Enter Plangus with his sword drawn.

Plan. I bore whil[e]st I could; but now 'tis grown
Too great to be contain'd in human breast,
And it shall out, though hoop'd with walls of brass.
Are they at it? I stood once listening
At their entreaty; this time at my own
I'll stand and hearken.

[Steps aside.

And. 'Tis impossible.

Lib. I tell you, no. I'll aggravate the injuries,
And tell him how basely poor it was for
A father to betray his son so.

And. His piety shall never——

Lib. But his fury shall.
I'll stab the king himself, and bring
Those witnesses shall swear 'twas Plangus.

Plan. Nay, then, 'tis time to strike—
There, carry thy intents to hell.

[He stabs Libacer.

And. Help! murder, murder! a rape, a rape!

Enter Ephorbas.

Eph. What dismal note was that?

And.Sir, there
You see your martyr, whose force being
Too weak to save my honour, his fidelity
Was greater, and [has] died a royal sacrifice,
Offer'd by th' impious hand of that vile man.

Eph. O heav'n! doth not the earth yet gape and swallow thee?
Thy life shall be my crime no longer; I gave it thee,
And thus resume it with a thousand curses.

[He stabs Plangus.

Plan. Sir, I at length am happy to the height
Of all my wishes. I'm a-going suddenly

[Faints.

From all my troubles, all your fears; but I
Will tell my story first—
How you have wrong'd, and been wronged yourself.
This woman, to be short, hath twin'd
Like ivy with my naked limbs, before
She married you, and would—O,
In spite of death
I will go on—have tempted me
To bed her since. Upon refusal, she
Turned her love to hate, and plots my ruin,
And next your death—I can no more—I kill'd
The instrument—farewell, forgive me.

[Dies.

Eph. Can this be true, Andromana?

And. Do you believe it?

Eph. I wish I had not cause——

And. Sir, every syllable was true he told you;
Whose words I thus confirm.

[She takes Plangus's dagger, flings it at Ephorbas, and kills him.

Eph. I'm slain! mercy, Heaven!

Enter Inophilus.

And. You should have come a little sooner.

Ino. Do I see well? or is the prince here slain?

And. He is, and 'cause you love him,
Carry that token of my love to him.

[Stabs Inophilus.

I know he'll take it kindly that you take
So long a journey only to see him.

Ino. It was the devil struck, sure,
A woman could not do it.—Plangus, O!

[Dies.

SCENE VI.

Enter Rinatus, Eubulus, Anamedes.

Rin. Heav'n defend us! what a sight is here? The king,
The prince, both slain? what, and my son too?
Only this woman living? Speak out, [thou]
Screech-owl, witch, how came they by their deaths!

And. By me; how else?

Rin. Let's torture her.

And.I can
Prevent you; I wouldn't live a minute longer
Unless to act my ills again, for all Iberia.

[Stabs herself.

I have lived long enough to boast an act,
After which no mischief shall be new——

[Dies.

Rin. Let's in, and weep our weary lives away;
When this is told, let after-ages say,
But Andromana none could have begun it,
And none but Andromana could have done it.

[Exeunt.

---

LADY ALIMONY.

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EDITION.

Lady Alimony; or, The Alimony Lady. An Excellent Pleasant New Comedy. Duly Authorized, daily Acted, and frequently Followed.

Nolumus amplexus sponsales; æra novellos
Nocte parent Socios, qui placuere magis.
Lucret.

London, Printed by Tho. Vere and William Gilbertson, and are to be sold at the Angel without New-gate, and at the Bible in Gilt-spur-street. 1659. 4^o.

This piece is now first reprinted from the original edition. It is a curious and peculiar production, and was perhaps written twenty or twenty-five years before the date which appears on the title-page. Its attribution jointly to Thomas Lodge and Robert Greene is one of those alike silly and capricious affiliations of our earlier bibliographers, which sometimes scarcely seem as if they were seriously intended. From a passage at p. 281, it is readily apparent that it was not in existence till after 1633.

The interest and point of the present play principally depend on a vivid description of the doings of certain ladies of pleasure, or bona-robas, who are styled Ladies Alimony. The peculiarity of the piece in point of structure and character may be thought, perhaps, to go some way in atoning for its occasional licentiousness.

A considerable number of uncommon phrases are scattered through "Lady Alimony;" some of them are not noticed by our glossographers.

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