By thy not daring to attempt my fame
With injury of any loose conceit,
Which might give deeper wounds to discontents:
Continue this fair race; then, though I cannot
Add to thy comfort, yet I shall more often
Remember from what fortune I am fallen,
And pity mine own ruin. Live, live happy,
Happy in thy next choice, that thou may'st people
This barren age with virtues in thy issue:
And, oh! when thou art married, think on me
With mercy, not contempt. I hope thy wife,
Hearing my story, will not scorn my fall.
Now let us part.

Org. Part! vet advise thee better:
Penthea is the wife to Orgilus,

And ever shall be.

Pen. Never shall, nor will.
Org. How!

Pen. Hear me; in a word I'll tell thee why:
The virgin dowry, which my birth bestow'd,
Is ravish'd by another: my true love
Abhors to think, that Orgilus deserv’d
No better favours than a second bed.
Org. I must not take this reason.
Pen. To confirm it:

Should I outlive my bondage, let me meet
Another worse than this, and less desir'd,
If, of all men alive, thou should'st but touch
My lp or hand again.

Org. Penthea, now

I tell ye, you grow wanton in my sufferance;
Come, sweet, thou'rt mine.

Pen. Uncivil sir, forbear,

Or I can turn affection into vengeance;
Your reputation, if you value any,

Lies bleeding at my feet. Unworthy man,
If ever henceforth thou appear in language,
Message or letter, to betray my frailty,
I'll call thy former protestations lust,
And curse my stars for forfeit of my judgment.
Go thou, fit only for disguise and walks,
To hide thy shame: this once I spare thy life.
I laugh at mine own confidence; my sorrows
By thee are made inferior to my fortunes.
If ever thou didst harbour worthy love,
Dare not to answer. My good genius guide me,
That I may never see thee more.-Go from me!
Org. I'll tear my veil of politic French off,
And stand up like a man resolv'd to do:
Action, not words, shall shew me.-Oh Penthea!

{Exit.

Pen. He sigh'd my name, sure, as he parted from me:

I fear I was too rough. Alas, poor gentleman!
He look'd not like the ruins of his youth,
But like the ruins of those ruins. Honour,
How much we fight with weakness to preserve
thee!

Enter BASSANES and GRAUSIS.

Bass. Fie on thee! Damn thee, rotten maggot, damn thee!

Sleep? Sleep at court? And now? Aches, convulsions,

Imposthumes, rheums, gouts, palsies, clog thy

SCENE I.-The Cell of TECNICUS.

Enter TECNICUS and ORGILUS, in his own dress.
Tec. Be well advis'd; let not a resolution
Of giddy rashness choak the breath of reason.
Org. It shall not, most sage master.
Tec. I am jealous;

For if the borrow'd shape, so late put on,

Inferr'd a consequence, we must conclude
Some violent design of sudden nature
Hath shock'd that shadow off, to fly upon
A new-hatch'd execution: Orgilus,
Take heed thou hast not, under our integrity,
Shrowded unlawful plots; our mortal eyes
Pierce not the secrets of your hearts, the gods
Are only privy to them.

Org. Learned Tecnicus

But know then, Orgilus, what honour is:
Honour consists not in a bare opinion
By doing any act that feeds content,
Brave in appearance, 'cause we think it brave;
Such honour comes by accident, not nature,
Proceeding from the vices of our passion,
Which makes our reason drunk: But real honour
Is the reward of virtue, and acquired
By justice or by valour, which, for basis,
Hath justice to uphold it. He then fails
In honour, who, for lucre of revenge,
Commits thefts, murder, treasons, or adulteries,
With such like, by intrenching on just laws,
Whose sovereignty is best preserv'd by justice.
Thus, as you see how honour must be grounded
On knowledge, not opinion,-for opinion
Relies on probability and accident,
But knowledge on necessity and truth,-
I leave thee to the fit consideration

Of what becomes the grace of real honour,
Wishing success to all thy virtuous meanings.
Org. The gods increase thy wisdom, reverend
oracle,

And in thy precepts make me ever thrifty!

[Exit.

Tec. I thank thy wish :-much mystery of fate Lies hid in that man's fortunes: curiosity May lead his actions into rare attempts; But let the gods be moderators still, No human power can prevent their will. Enter ARMOSTES.

From whence come ye?

Arm. From king Amyclas.-Pardon
My interruption of your studies.-Here,

In this seal'd box, he sends a treasure, dear
To him as his crown: he prays your gravity,
You would examine, ponder, sift and bolt
The pith and circumstance of every title
The scroll within contains.

Tec. What is't, Armostes?

Arm. It is the health of Sparta, the king's life,
Sinews and safety of the commonwealth,
The sum of what the oracle delivered,
When last he visited the prophetic temple
At Delphos: what his reasons are, for which,
After so long a silence, he requires
Your counsel now, grave man, his majesty
Will soon himself acquaint you with.
Tec. Apollo

Inspire my intellect !-The prince of Argos
Is entertain'd?

Arm. He is; and has demanded

Our princess for his wife; which I conceive
One special cause the king importunes you
For resolution of the oracle.

Tec. My duty to the king, good peace to
Sparta,

And fair day to Armostes!
Arm. Like to Tecnicus!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Chamber of ITHOCLES. A Curtain drawn across the Stage.

[Soft Music.-A Song, during which PROPHI-
LUS, BASSANES, PENTHEA, GRAUSIS pass
over the stage; BASSANES and GRAUSIS re-
enter softly, and listen in different places.]
SONG.

Can you paint a thought? or number
Every fancy in a slumber?
Can you count soft minutes roving
From a dial's point by moving?
Can you grasp a sigh or, lastly,
Rob a virgin's honour chastely?
No, oh no! yet you may

Sooner do both that and this,
This and that, and never miss,
Than, by any praise display
Beauty's beauty, such a glory,
As beyond all fate, all story,
All arms, all arts,
All loves, all hearts,
Greater than those, or they,
Do, shall, and must obey.

Bass. All silent, calm, secure.-Grausis, no
creaking?

No noise? dost hear nothing?

Gra. Not a mouse,

Or whisper of the wind.

Bass. The floor is matted,

The bed-posts, sure, are steel or marble. Soldiers

Should not affect, methinks, strains so effemi

nate.

Sounds of such delicacy are but fawnings

Upon the sloth of luxury; they heighten
Cinders of covert lust up to a flame.

Gra. What do you mean, my lord? Speak low that gabbling

Of your's will but undo us.

Bass. Chamber-combats
Are felt, not heard.

Proph. [Behind the curtain.] He wakes.
Bass. What's that?

Ith. [Behind the curtain.] Who's there?

ye,

Bass. By any means; 'tis fit.

Proph. Pray, gentlewoman, walk too.
Gra. Yes, I will, sir.

[The curtain is drawn, and ITHOCLES disco-
vered in a chair, and PENTHEA beside him.
Ith. Sit nearer, sister, to me; nearer yet:
We had one father, in one womb took life,
Were brought up twins together, yet have liv'd
At distance, like two strangers. I could wish
That the first pillow, whereon I was cradled,
Had prov'd to me a grave.

Pen. You had been happy: Then had you never known that sin of life Which blots all following glories with a ven

In languishing affections for that trespass,
Yet cannot die.

Pen. The handmaid to the wages,
The untroubled [but]of country toil, drinks streams
With leaping kids, and with the bleating lambs,
And so allays her thirst, secure; whilst I
Quench my hot sighs with fleetings of my tears.
Ith. The labourer doth eat his coarsest bread,
Earn'd with his sweat, and lies him down to sleep;
Whilst every bit I touch turns in digestion
To gall, as bitter as Penthea's curse.
Put me to any penance for my tyranny,
And I will call thee merciful.

Pen. Pray kill me,

Rid me from living with a jealous husband,
Then we will join in friendship, be again
Brother and sister.-Kill me, pray : nay, will ye?

Ith. How doth thy lord esteem thee?
Pen. Such an one

As only you have made me; a faith-breaker,
A spotted whore: forgive me; I am one
In act, not in desires, the gods must witness.
Ith. Thou dost bely thy friend

Pen. I do not, Ithocles;

For she, that's wife to Orgilus, and lives
In known adultery with Bassanes,
Is, at the best, a whore. Wilt kill me now?
The ashes of our parents will assume
Some dreadful figure, and appear to charge
Thy bloody guilt, that hast betray'd their name
To infamy, in this reproachful match.

Ith. After my victories abroad, at home
I meet despair; ingratitude of nature
Hath made my actions monstrous: thou shalt
stand

A deity, my sister, and be worshipp'd
For thy resolved martyrdom: wrong'd maids
And married wives shall to thy hallow'd shrine
Offer their orisons, and sacrifice

Pure turtles crown'd with myrtle, if thy pity
Unto a yielding brother's pressure, tend
One finger but to ease it.

Pen. Oh, no more!

Ith. Death waits to waft me to the Stygian banks,

And free me from this chaos of my bondage;
And, till thou wilt forgive, I must endure.
Pen. Who is the saint you serve?
Ith. Friendship or [nearness]

Of birth to any but my sister, durst not
Have mov'd that question, as a secret, sister,
I dare not murmur to myself.

Pen. Let me

(By your new protestations I conjure ye!)
Partake her name.

Ith. Her name?'tis,-'tis,-I dare not.
Pen. All your respects are forg'd.

Ith. They are not.-Peace!

Calantha 'tis; the princess, the king's daughter,
Sole heir of Sparta Me, most miserable!-
Do I now love thee? For my injuries
Revenge thyself with bravery, and gossip
My treasons to the king's ears. Do!-Calantha
Knows it not yet, nor Prophilus, my nearest.

Pen. Suppose you were contracted to her,
would it not

Split even your very soul to see her father
Snatch her out of your arms against her will,
And force her on the prince of Argos?

Ith. Trouble not

The fountains of mine eyes with thine own story; I sweat in blood for't.

Pen. We are reconcil'd.

Alas, sir, being children, but two branches
Of one stock, 'tis not fit we should divide:
Have comfort, you may find it.

1th. Yes, in thee;
Only in thee, Penthea mine!

Pen. If sorrows

Have not too much dull'd my infected brain,
I'll chear invention for an active strain.

Ith. Madman! why have I wrong'd a maid so excellent?

Enter BASSANES, with a poniard, PROPHILUS, GRONEAS, HEMOPHIL, and GRAUSIS.

Bass. I can forbear no longer: more, I will

not:

Keep off your hands, or fall upon my point:

Patience is tir'd, for, like a slow-pac'd ass,
Ye ride my easy nature, and proclaim
My sloth to vengeance a reproach and property.
Ith. The meaning of this rudeness?
Proph. He's distracted.

Pen. Oh, my griev'd lord!

Gra. Sweet lady, come not near him: He holds his perilous weapon in his hand, To prick a' cares not whom, nor where-See, see, see!

Bass. My birth is noble; though the popular blast
Of vanity, as giddy as thy youth,
Hath rear'd thy name up to bestride a cloud,
Or progress in the chariot of thy sun,
I am no clod of trade to lackey pride;
Nor, like your slave of expectation, wait
The bawdy hinges of your doors, or whistle
For mystical conveyance to your bed-sports.
Gra. Fine humours! they become him.
Hem. How he stares,

Struts, puffs, and sweats! most admirable lunacy!
Ith. But that I may conceive the spirit of wine
Has took possession of your sob'rer custom,
I'd say you were unmannerly.

Pen. Dear brother!

Bass. Unmannerly !-mew kitling !-smooth formality

Is usher to the rankness of the blood,
But impudence bears up the train: Indeed, sir,
Your fiery metal, or your springall blaze
Of huge renown, is no sufficient royalty
To print upon my forehead the scorn, cuckold.
Ith. His jealousy has robb'd him of his wits;
He talks he knows not what.

Bass. Yes, and he knows

To whom he talks; to one, that franks his lust In swine security of bestial incest.

Ith. Ha, devil!

senses

Are charm'd with sounds celestial.-On, dear, on !

I never gave you one ill word: say, did I?
Indeed I did not.

Pen. Nor, by Juno's forehead,
Was I e'er guilty of a wanton error.
Bass. A goddess! let me kneel.
Gra. Alas, kind animal!
Ith. No; but for penance.
Bass. Noble sir, what is it?

With gladness I embrace it; yet, pray let not
My rashness teach you to be too unmerciful.
Ith. When you shall shew good proof, that
manly wisdom,

Not oversway'd by passion or opinion,
Knows how to lead your judgment; then this lady,
Your wife, my sister, shall return in safety
Home, to be guided by you: but, till first
I can, out of clear evidence, approve it,
She shall be my care.

Bass. Rip my bosom up;

I'll stand the execution with a constancy :
This torture is insufferable.

Sent us a daughter, in whose birth our hope
Continues of succession. As you are
In title next, being grandchild to our aunt,
So we in heart desire you may sit nearest
Calantha's love; since we have ever vow'd
Not to enforce affection by our will,
But, by her own choice, to confirm it gladly.
Near. You speak the nature of a right just
father.

I come not hither roughly to demand
My cousin's thraldom, but to free mine own:
Report of great Calantha's beauty, virtue,
Sweetness and singular perfections, courted
All ears to credit what I find was published
By constant truth; from which, if any service
Of my desert can purchase fair construction,
This lady must command it.

Cal. Princely sir,

So well you know how to profess observance,
That you instruct your hearers to become
Practitioners in duty; of which number
I'll study to be chief.

Neur. Chief, glorious virgin,

In my devotion, as in all men's wonder.

Amy. Excellent cousin, we deny no liberty, Use thine own opportunities.-Armostes, We must consult with the philosophers; The business is of weight.

Arm. Sir, at your pleasure.

Amy. You told me, Crotolon, your son's returned

From Athens; wherefore comes he not to court, As we commanded?

Crot. He shall soon attend

Your royal will, great sir.

Amy. The marriage

Ith. Life to the king!

To whom I here present this noble gentleman,
New come from Athens; royal sir, vouchsafe
Your gracious hand in favour of his merit.

Crot. My son preferr'd by Ithocles? [Aside.
Amy. Our bounties

Shall open to thee, Orgilus; for instance,
Hark, in thine ear! if out of those inventions
Which flow in Athens, thou hast there engross'd
Some rarity of wit to grace the nuptials

Of thy fair sister, and renown our court
In th' eyes of this young prince, we shall be debtor
To thy conceit: think on't.

Org. Your highness honours me.

Near. My tongue and heart are twins.
Cal. A noble birth,

Becoming such a father.--Worthy Orgilus,
You are a guest most wished for.
Org. May my duty

Still rise in your opinion, sacred princess.
Ith. Euphrania's brother, sir; a gentleman
Well worthy of your knowledge.

Near. We embrace him,

Proud of so dear acquaintance.

Amy. All prepare

For revels and disport; the joys of Hymen,
Like Phœbus in his lustre, put to flight

All mists of dulness: crown the hours with glad

Enter CROTOLON and ORGILUS.

Crot. The king hath spoke his mind.
Org. His will he hath:

But were it lawful to hold plea against
The power of greatness, not the reason, haply
Such under-shrubs as subjects sometimes might
Borrow of nature justice, to inform

That licence sovereignty holds without check
Over a meek obedience.

Crot. How resolve you,

Touching your sister's marriage? Prophilus
Is a deserving and a hopeful youth.

Org. I envy not his merit, but applaud it;
Could wish him thrift in all his best desires,
And with a willingness inleague our blood
With his, for purchase of full growth in friendship.
He never touched on any wrong that malic'd
The honour of our house, nor stirred our peace;
Yet, with your favour, let me not forget
Under whose wing he gathers warmth and comfort,
Whose creature he is bound, made, and must
live so.

Crot. Son, son, I find in thee a harsh condition, No courtesy can win it; 'tis too rancorous. Org. Good sir, be not severe in your construe

tion,

I am no stranger to such easy calms