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.

Actus quintus: (Book 5)

Scena prima.

Emperour, Hungary, Questenberg.

Emp.

Vext with so many cares, so many mischiefs, That doe like Hidra's dreadfull heads increase, By cutting off, as billowes follow billowes, Succeed each other with that eager violence, Our weary Eagles know not where to perch, But flag their sickly wings: wer't not irreligious, I should capitulate with the powers divine, And tax them of injustice; my whole raigne Has been a long and one continued trouble; And if blest peace with her faire beames did e're Shine on our Empire, 'twas but like a faire Deceitfull wind, courting the ships out of the harbor, Into the maine to drowne them: but the mother Of a more horrid warfare, that I feare as I found the Wreathe Imperiall drown'd in blood, So I in blood must leave it.

Quest.

Have good hope Sir, Tides then approach their full height, when their ebbe Has been at lowest; the most hideous tempests, Which seem'd to threat the ruine of the world, Bing usher'd in by thunder and hot lightning, Are soonest past, there's nothing violent Can boast of perpetuity; our fortunes Are not so desperate, as our feares present them: We've hands and hearts left yet, that dare oppose The inhumane Traytor, and our causes justice

Assures us, if we cannot live victorious, We shall dye nobly.

Hung.

Man, my royall Father Is not himselfe, when he beholds Events through the quicke perspective of feare, Which shewes him dangers at remotest distance, As clearest and his most perspicuous obiects. Suppose this traitor in his Giant-reach Fathome ev'n heaven it selfe, yet there are bolts To strike him into earth for his ambition, And make his memory and name, all, save his treason, For ever to be forgotten.

Emp.

That which most Does drive my tortur'd soule into affrights, Is, that I see we'r false among our selves: The faithlesse Souldiers daily doe in troupes, Fly from our Ensignes to the Traytors Campe: What cause have we then but t'expect sad ruine? When those who should be our security, Doe prove our greatest enemies; our Guard, Our feare and terror, they all looke On him, as superstitious Indians on the Sunne, With adoration; on me, with contempt, Or (but at best) with pitty.

Quest.

Mighty Caesar, To doubt an ill before it fall upon us, 'Mongst valiant and resolved soules▪ is counted A point of cowardise: Great Spirits ever Should be above their fates; good Sir retreat Into that fortresse of your minde, Your resolution, call it up to guard, Your soule from timorous thoughts: Are you the man have sway'd The Roman Empire foure and twenty yeeres, With that successe against your forraigne foes, Your very name more then your forces vanquish'd,

To let a Traytor fright you: good my Lord Let's draw forth new battalias to the Field, Awake the Drum and Trumpet, summon up The very last hopes of our weaken'd strength, 'Gainst this insulting traytor; very infants Will on the sudden grow up able men, And fight in this brave quarrell.

Hung.

Heaven it selfe Will arme on our side, and with certaine vengeance, Pursue the inhumane monster: why? to dye, (As that's the worst can happen) in this cause, Were a religious martyrdome: I am your son Sir, And what your fortunes are, good or disastrous, Mine has on them dependance; by my hopes, I doe So little waigh the glorious traytors pride, I thinke him worthy scarce my meanest thought, And rest assur'd, ere long, I shall behold This fearefull meteor, that would be a Star, And does affright us with his hideous blaze, Like a vaine Comet drop his fading rayes.

Emp.

Your comforts Come as in droughts the elementall dew Does on the earth, it wets, but leaves no moysture, To give the sear'd plants growth: But yesternight We'd certaine information, that our forces Led by Matthias Gallas, were o'rethrowne By Saxon Waymar, and his son young Fredricke: Who had they knowne as well how to pursue, As gaine a victory, and made a sudden Onslaught upon Vienna, their's; not ours Had been the Wreathe Imperiall. Now your newes sir.

Int Messenger.

Messen.

Letters from Colonell Lesle fir, from Egers.

Emp.

This is our latest hope; he writes me word, That the Arch-traytor, and his prime confederates, Last night arriv'd at Egers,, and assures me

Of their immediate ruine: Well Colossus, You'd best stand firme, unshaken as a rocke, Whose feet the fierce waves striving to trip up, Doe 'gainst its hard hoofes dash themselves to pieces, Or thou wilt fall unpittied, fall to be The scorne of story, the contempt and by-word To all posterity; let's in my Lords: This law the Heavens inviolably keepe, Their justice well may slumber, but ne're sleepe.

Exeunt.

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.

FINIS.