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.

Scena ultima: Wallenstein, Tertzki, Kintzki, Illawe, Newman, Lesle, Butler, Gordon.

Lesle.

The honour you have done us mighty Duke, By this your gracious presence, gives a period To our ambition; Egers is growne proud, Dares with Vienna stand in competition, Which is the capital City, which does hold The true and lawfull Caesar.

Gordon.

Ferdinand, Had he arriv'd here in his greatest glory, Could not have been more welcome; while I am Governour of this towne, it and my life Are at your service.

Wallens.

Noble Gentlemen, You do so loade me with new courtesies, I know not first for which to give you thankes, And did a sullen humour not possesse My much distemper'd faculties, my mirth Should speake my gratitude; but on the sudden, I am so overburdned with sad thoughts, I cannot suite my minde (so much opprest) To jollitie.

Lesle.

'Tis our generall griefe, 〈2+ pages missing〉〈2+ pages missing〉

Ought should disturbe your quiet here, when we Were all compos'd of triumph, for the joy We doe conceive for your arrivall. My noble Lord of Tertzki, these are the welcomes Full bowles of sprightly Wine that Souldiers use In entertainment; to our Generals health, And to his good recovery from his melancholy.

Tert.

Who shall refuse to pledge it with that zeale, He would drinke healthfull potions, may it be A deadly poyson to him: Colonell Gordon.

New.

May he dye for droughth like a Westphalia Pig I'th' dog dayes, or be choakt with eating tosted cheese.

Gordon.

My Lord of Kintzki, This to our Generals health, and welcome hither.

New.

I'm like to faint for thirst, Would 'twould arrive at me once, my mouth Even waters at it.

Kintz.

Noble Butler.

Butler.

Marshall Illawe.

Newm.

I shall be last, I see, But if the stoopes hold out, 'tis ten to one I'le have my share.

Illawe.

Here Colonell Newman.

New.

And 'twere the Tun of Heidleberg, I'd drink it Off with as much ease, as a leaguer can In a grim sutlers house of thatch: My Lord, Under your gracious pardon, take me off This lusty rowse to your owne health, and after Begin as much to each of ours, and if It doe not make you as merry as a Corporall Upon pay day, say I'm no Esculapius, But a meere Mountebanke in the effects Of sprightly Wine.

Wallens.

Kind Gentlemen, my thankes To all of you, and would my disposition Afford me licence, I should not forget

The souldiers ceremonie, to begin Each of your happy wishes howsoever I will trench so farre on my melancholy, To drink this cup. To all your healths.

Omnes.

Your Grace hath shewen us A too excessive curtesie.

Wall.

Ile onely Repose a little, and if I find My sad distemper alter, Ile returne, And frolicke in your company.

Newm.

I smell him: Hee has a plot upon us, hee'le steale hence, And shift a score or two of cups, and then Set fresh upon us, make us all as drunke, As rats in the Canaries.

Lesle.

Wee'l attend your Grace.

Wallens.

By no meanes, Let not my melancholy discompose Your thought of frolicke mirth: There's Colonel Newman, Will in my absence take a cup or two For mee: meane time bee merry, 'tis my charge: Remember to observe it.

Ex. Wallens.

Lesle.

I'me sorry, Hee should bee thus distemper'd here. My Lord Let not our Generals sadnesse rob us of Our late intended iollity: Colonell Newman You'd wont to bee all ayre: I hope, you are not Turn'd earth o'th' suddaine.

Newm.

No faith, thank heaven, I feel no inclination that savours of mortality: gentlemen Shal's have a catch.

Omnes.

With all our hearts, good Colonell.

New.

A military Madrigall, I learn'd it Of a right Impe of Mars, a red-fac'd Serjeant, At Halberstat.

To me be terrible, since 'tis maine folly, To feare that which we no way can avoid: Nor is't much matter how we dye, by force, Or naturally checker'd with grisly wounds, Or in our beds, since all's but the same death still: Oh! but to dye surcharg'd with mortall sinnes, Such as can kill our everlasting beings, Our soules, and send them hence to bathe in floods Of living fire; there, that's the frightfull mischiefe, The other's but a trifle; I, who never Could feare the other, at the thought of this, Am one with death already; my vast crimes, My horrid murders kill that conscience in me, Which makes me know my guilt, that conscience, Which as my shaddow followes me.

Int. Lesle, Gordon, Butler.

Gordon:

Come softly, And if my stroake misse, second me.

Stabs Wallenstein in the backe.

Wallens.

Ha! 'twas no ghost, that was a Mortall touch, It came so home and heavily: base Traytor, Who e're thou art, thou durst not see my face, My lookes would even have blasted thee: Ha! Lesle, Gordon, Butler.

Lesle.

Yes Traytor-Duke, 'twas we, who out thy soul From thy weake twist of life, we who glory More in performing this brave act of justice, Then had we gain'd the Empire thy ambition Aspir'd to, thy base trecheries to Caesar, Are by us reveng'd.

Gordon.

The Counts, Thy bold confederate Rebels, by our hands Sent to their ruine.

Wallens.

Thus coward Hare, Prey on a dying Lyon, for thee Lesle,

Basely perfidious to me in thy faith, Receive my last breath in a curse: you have But plaid the Hang-men to performe heavens justice. Forgive me Heaven my past offence: I dye, Not for my ambition, but my cruelty.

Dyes.

Lesle.

Let us convey the body in, ard post With all speed to Vienna, and give notice Toth' Emperor of our proceedings; thus every Traytor shall, Stead of a Crowne, meet his owne Funerall.