The tragedy of Albertus VVallenstein late Duke of Fridland, and generall to the Emperor Ferdinand the second. Written by Henry Glapthorne. The scene, Egers. And acted with good allowance at the Globe on the Banke-side, by his Majesties Servants.

Natures choice pleasures, that same happinesse You were created for.

Emil

You have prevail'd Sir; You who are still victorious o're your foes, Must needs remaine a Conqueror o're your friends, My Lord, receive me freely, I am yours For ever.

Fred.

This chaste kisse shall seale the contract. Come my Emilia, love is such a wealth, As must be gain'd by free consent, not stealth.

Scena secunda: Wallenstein, Dutchesse, Newman, Terzki, Kintzki, Illawe.

Wallens.

Are they agreed yet, Newman,

Newm.

Faith my Lord, The Virgin Lady's something fearefull, feares A man of warre should board her, lest his charge Should make her keele split, my Lord Fredricke Is of that rough demeanour, spight of my Instructions, he will never learne to woe In the due phrase and garbe.

Wallens.

I doe admire, The fond base carriage of our giddy youth In love affaires, and grieve to see my sonnes, (Who should inherit from me my great spirit, As well as fortune) so degenerate from My masculine courage; when ith' blooming pride Of my green youth I flourish'd, my desires Aym'd alwayes rather in the tented field To spend my houres, then on a downy Couch, To see the face of a sterne enemy besmear'd with blood, Pleas'd me farre better then a Ladies lookes.

Dutch.

And yet you vow'd, E're you won me, my Lord▪ you ne're saw object,

That so much pleas'd your appetite.

Wallens.

Perhaps I might, For the obtaining of my ends, descend From my great spirit so much, as to decline To idle Courtship, the birds and beasts will doe it To sate their appetites, the fiery Steed, (That in the fervor of a fight, oft times Neighs courage to his rider) when provok'd With eager heat, will licke and bite his female Into the same desire: The Sparrowes bill, And with a chirping rhetoricke, seeme to court Enjoyment of their wishes, which fulfil'd Dulls their heads, they couch beneath their wings, And in a slumber, forfeit all remembrance Of their past pleasures: Yet insatiate man, In his desire more hot then Steeds or Sparrowes, Will to obtaine it, quite devest his soule Of all that's masculine in him, and transforme▪ His very being into woman.

Newm.

Sure, My Lord intends to write some Proclamation, 'Gainst wearing holland smockes, some furious Edict, 'Gainst charitable leaguerers: I've knowne him, (And so have you my Lords) for all this heat 'Gainst woman-hood, pursue a sutlers usroe, (And she had but one eye neither) with as much zeale, As e're knight-errand did his faire Linda brides, Or Claridiana.

Ent. Fredrick, Emilia.

Tert.

My Lord, your son and faire Emilia.

Newm.

The quarrel's reconcil'd, Ile lay my life on't.

Wallens.

Beauteous Lady, The contract 'twixt me and your father, touching The marriage 'twixt my son and your faire selfe, I hope By your consent is ratified: my boy Lookes sprightly, as if he were new return'd From a triumphant victory. 〈2+ pages missing〉〈2+ pages missing〉

But pray divide my soule, my life and fortunes, Are at your disposition: noble Lords, That this base Emperour seekes to take my life By trechery, is an apparant sigre, He feares that I should live, and halfe victorious E're blow be strucken, are they whom their foes Dread, e're they doe behold them: let's go on then, Arm'd with our aides, backt with our causes justice, 'Gainst this insulting Emperour, and resolve To pull the tyrant from his Throne, destroy His very name, his memory, his ashes, With as much easie freedome, as rough windes Demolish crasie buildings. Colonell Gordon, Some five dayes hence we shall arrive at Egers, There to make preparation for the Nuptials, Betwixt our some and faire Emilia. Come Lords, since we amongst our selves are true, Conquest is ours, which we'l with speed pursue.

Exeunt.

Scena tertia: Albertus solus.

Alber.

To be in love, nay to be so in love, To put off all our reason and discourse, Which does distinguish us from savage beasts, To dote upon a face (which like a mirrour, Sully'd by any breath) by the least sicknesse, Growes pale and ghastly: Is not this meere madnesse, Why should't inhabit here then: sure the soule, As 'tis a spirit of a subtle essence, A forme as thin and pure, as is an Angels, Can ne're be author of these wild desires, So opposite to its nature, they'r all fleshly, Sordid, as is the clay this frame's compos'd of. Shall the soule, The noble soule, be slave to these wild passions,

And bow beneath their waight: ha Isabella,

Int. Isab.

All reason, sense and soule are in her lookes, There's no discourse beyond them: cruell faire one, Are you still resolute to persist in your Strange tyranny▪ and scorne my constant love.

Isabel.

Doe not sir Abuse that sacred title which the Saints, And powers celestiall glory in, by ascribing It to your loose desires, pray rather cloth them In their owne attribute, terme them your lust sir, Your wild irregular lust, which like those fired rakes▪ Mis-guiding nighted travellers, will lead you Forth of the faire path of your fame and vertue, To unavoided ruine.

Alber.

This is coynesse, A cunning coynesse, to make me esteeme At a high rate, that jewell which you seeme To part from so unwillingly (Merchants use it To put bad wares away:) deare Isabella, Thinke what excessive honour thou shalt reape, In the exchange of one poore triviall gemme, And that but meerely imaginary, a voyce, And unsubstantiall essence, yet for that Thou shalt have reall pleasures, such as Queenes, Prone to delicious luxury, would covet To sate their appetites: Think Isabella, That hardest Marble, though not cut by force, By oft diffusion of salt drops, is brought Into what ever forme the Carvers fancie Before had destin'd it: your heart's that substance, And will by frequent oratory of teares, Be brought to weare the perfect stampe, the figure Of my affection on it.

Isabel.

Thus besieg'd, It is high time, I summon up my vertue, All that is good, about me, to assist 〈1+ pages missing〉〈1+ pages missing〉