Wits led by the nose, or, A poets revenge a tragi-comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre Royal.

ACT IV.

SCENE the Sicilian Plaines.

Enter Vanlore like a Shepherd leading in Heroina wet as from a wreck, Shepherds and Shepherdesses.

Van.

COme Lady, you must now inhabit here In silent shades and solitary Groves, Where Rustick sweetness makes us void of fear, And harmless Nature teacheth harmless Loves. The Morning Dew drawn up by Sols strong Charms, Is not more safe when lock'd within his Arms, Then you protected by our Innocence.

Her.

Sir, if these words prove not a bare pretence, I shall have cause to thank your care, and be Happy 'mongst you, though cloth'd in misery.

Van.

Time will wear out the thoughts of dangers past, And you may be releas'd from griefs at last; Though in the Storm you left Estates behind, Your life secures the safety of your mind: A troubled fancy Robs the Soul of rest; That man may be secur'd, but never blest, For they who do within such Wars maintain, Distract their Reason to secure their Pain.

Her.

But pains like mine do seize on ev'ry part, Ensnares the Soul to Captivate the Heart;

My many troubles like a Clouded Sky, Declare some sudden Storm of dangers nigh.

Van.

You but suspect those ills you need not fear, And danger Madam's unacquainted here.

Her.

Wealth I have none to lose, or to bestow, My Gratitude is all, and that I'le owe; Which may in time to such a greatness rise, I shall return those thanks you'l not despise.

Van.

I wish the Curtain of your Fate may be Drawn from the face of smooth felicity: Wounds are not cur'd by Grief, nor Fate made less Or more by hopes of harms or happiness: Let Madam all our Vows disperce your fears, Time lost can't be pul'd back by sighs or tears.

Her.

Yet silent Griefs a troubled heart may ease, And Passion vented mittigates disease.

Exeunt.

SCENE Arratus Lodgings.

Enter Slywit, Theocrine in mans clothes, and a Shepherd.

Sly.

Sir, to your charge I do commit the Fare: Be her safe conduct, she'l reward your care.

Shep.

For Valore's sake my duty I'le express, Nor Madam for your own could I do less.

Theo.

I can but thank you, yet in time I may Find out a means your services to pay; My Gratitude till then you shall employ, Take that, and lead me to a World of joy.

Exeunt. manet Sly.

Sly.

So thus far I'm right, and all my plots thrive equal with my wishes; I have perswaded Sir Symon, Sir Jasper's in Prison, and that I have got Theocrines consent to Celebrate the Marriage this Morn∣ing; a Bride I have provided, and such a one as (Heav'n knows) are too common in this Age, a debauch'd Chamber-maid, one as fit for Sir Jasper's humour, as a Taylor for a Cowcumber; he pro∣mis'd to meet me here, but has not kept his word, I hope he has not found the cheat, but here he comes.

Enter Sir Jasper.

Hast hast to the Temple Sir, you'l lose your Mistress else; within a Room behind the Altar waits a Priest, and all things are in readiness.

Jas.

But —

Sly.

But me no Buts, but get you gone I say; delay a minute and you'r undone for ever.

Pushes him off.

So he's gone▪ and I within this hour shall be reveng'd at full: how sweet those actions are, when we project for Guinnies. By this time Drayner's ready with his Mask to entertain'em; and if that and Sir Jasper's Wife make not Matrimony odious, I'le never plot again.

Wives just like Fools, are only kept to please, Delight dull Appetites, and bring us ease; Their various ways to Pleasure we adore, Which once seen over, we admire no more. Things oft repeated, though they pleasant prove; Nautiate and dull the stomach like fond Love. Things in extreams are ills to ev'ry sense, And though a while they please us with pretence, Both once enjoy'd the prudent banish hence.

Exit.

SCENE the Temple.

Enter a Priest of Hymen, then Arratus, and then Sir Symon leading Julia drest like Theocrine.

Arra.

This is the day, Son, makes us happy, you in the hopes of such a vertuous Wife, and I to see both Married. And Daugh∣ter (since your duty speaks you so) I hope this joyful day will Crown your Loves, and add Eternal Comforts to your Lives. Lead to the Altar.

As they go up to the Altar the suppos'd Ghost of Van∣lore appears, Julia and the Priest shriek and run off severally, Arratus falls down, Sir Symon offers to run out, but is stop'd at ev'ry entrance by a Spirit.

SONG. By the Spirits.

1 Spi. MAke hast, make hast, The time doth wast And flyes too fast. Cho. Therefore Remove These sinners from their bliss Above, For they must share With us in Everlasting Care.

2.

2 Spi. Remember old man, and ye sprightly young Blade, The Lover, the Lover, to death was betray'd; At Ardenna by you he was strangely remov'd, Because he too fondly pursu'd what he lov'd. 3 Spi. For which you shall be Tormented by me, For ever, for ever, by him, and by me. Cho. For which, &c.

3.

1 Spi. Come let's remove. 2 Spi. Come let's remove. 4 Spi. This lump of Diseases and scandal of Love, Let's bear'em from hence to their Torments below, Where Lavishing Souls are wrap'd up in woe; There to Tortures they shall for their mischiefs be sent, Yet never, Oh never, Oh never Repent. Cho. There to, &c.

The Song being ended, the four Spirits drive Sir Symon into the middle of the Stage, and Dance; the Dance being ended, they hurry him away. Arratus raises himself and looks about him.

Arra.

Are they gone?

Rises.

Was ever Marriage so crost, they'r all gone, and have left me no∣thing to keep me Company, but a guilty Conscience; Oh the hor∣ror of it strikes me dead; Murder is the sin Committed, and I the only Actor! Oh Vanlore, could I recall thy Soul, I willingly would give my Daughter to you to satisfie the injuries I did you, but 'tis in vain, the Bloody deed is done, I shall grow mad, my Son and Daughter and my Wits are lost, lost past Redemption,

Howe're I'le spin my Life out, though my Grief Burden my Soul till it is past Relief.

Exit.

SCENE a Plane.

Enter Oroandes Reading a Letter.

Oro.

Meet me at Nine behind the Hermits Rock. I have not mist in either Circumstance, unless my hast Anticipated Time —

Looks on his Watch.

It yet is not full Nine.

Enter Antellus.

King.

Oroandes you are now a Loyal Subject.

Oro.

All my Ambitions ne're flew higher, Sir, then in that Regi∣on of your thoughts to thrive.

King.

There it was grown to full Maturity: But I must like wanton Nero either Ruin all the Glorious Structure of thy hopes, or live Impris'ned in thy Loyalty: thy Life (till now my strongest fortress) is become the fatal Engine of my Ruin.

Oro.

Heav'n! what have I done to merit this?

King.

Nothing but bin too Vertuous, and by that center'd af∣fections which I must remove, or shake thee into Chaos.

Oro.

This Language blasts me, sure I have no sin pond'rous enough to buoy your Veng'ance up. Did I but think one Viper Lodg'd in my remotest part, I'de tear each Fibre of my heart, to find the Monster out, and in my blood Imbalm'd throw it as far as Lifes short span can reach. But Heav'n my witness is no flame of Zeal, but has bin your's i'th' second Magnitude; my Vows of Kin to those I pay'd the Gods, my Prayers but Love and Duty fir'd into a holy Calenture.

King.

Thy Vertue fathoms not my debt of Guilt; such a pre∣vention of my Anger, would only change the active passion for sorrow as insupportable: those Characters which must uphold the sables of my Soul, are in dark Hieroglyphicks hid, through which thy strength of Judgment cannot pierce.

Oro.

You speak in misty wonders Sir, such as lead my apprehen∣sion into wild Meanders.

King.

This will unriddle all our doubts, — draw.

King draws.

Oro.

Against my Soveraign! an Act so wicked would retort the guilty steel into my breast: fear never yet Marbled a Cowards heart more then Obedience mine.

King.

Will you deny when I Command?

Oro.

Pardon me Royal Sir, I would bestride a Cloud with Lightning Charg'd in's full Carreer, affront a Thunderbolt, leap into the Clefts of Earthquakes, or attempt to prop the Ruines of a falling Rock,

Yet count all this my happiness, so I Met Death in the white Robes of Loyalty.

King.

Are my attempts priz'd at so weak a rate? wears not my

Sword a danger on its poynt as well as thine? — Draw — or I shall conclude 'tis fear, not Loyalty, that Charms thy hand, which speaks thy Soul a Traytor.

Oro.

This stirs my blood, were you a private man that only had his better Genius to defend him, and though Ally'd to me by all the tyes of Nature, and of Friendship, yet being thus far urg'd, our Swords long since had shown whose Stars had brightest Influence.

King.

I have unfetter'd all those legal bonds. Draw — for thy denying now but slights my power.

Oro.

Then since there's no Evasion, —

Oroandes draws.

Witness ye Gods my Innocence is wrong'd. But Gracious Sir, —

Oroandes kneels.

Before I fall, or stand less fortunate, to see you overthrew, Oh let me know what Fate, what Cruel Fate has Rob'd me of the Trea∣sure of your Love.

King.

And must such goodness die? Know noble Youth, I am so far from calling it desert in thee, that hath unsheath'd my Sword, that in this midnight storm of fancy I can shed some drops of Pitty too. I come not rashly to attempt thy life, but long have struggled with my hot desires, stood fiery Tryals of temptations. I am diseas'd, and know no way to health but through a deluge of thy blood, — there is a cause.

Oro.

Dear Sir reveal it, that e're I fall, my penitential tears may cleanse my Soul from such a Leprous Crime.

King.

Alas brave Youth, thy thought's white as the Robes of An∣gels are, I know thy Love to fair Amasia inseperable, as goodness from a Deity, yet I must deprive thee of this Darling of thy Soul.

Oro.

With pardon Royal Sir, I cannot think the Cyprian Prin∣cess is so soon forgot, with whom Amasia Sir compar'd is nothing.

King.

Darst thou affect her, yet dispraise a Beauty that in its Orb contracts Divinity? This Prophanation what had else bin sin will render Meritorious, — Guard thy Life.

They fight, the King is wounded.

Oro.

What have I done?

King.

The Business that we met for, now we are friends again, friends until Death.

The King staggers and falls.

Oro.

Oh do not faint, call up your spirits Sir, there's hopes of Life.

King.

My Vital Powers fail, my Eyes are bowing to Eternal night.

Oro.

And I grow wild with Horror, — milder then a Flame pro∣vok'd by angry Winds; what shall I do, or whither shall I flie, to leave behind me this pursuing Guilt?

A noise within.

King.

Oh, Oh, — be gone, be gone my Oroandes, some Company draws near. Maist thou live long and happily in the Em∣braces of her whom I unjustly strove to have: my dying wishes wait upon your joys.

Oro.

Angels attend your latest hour, I go From hence to meet my Everlasting woe.

Exit.

Enter Heroina, Vanlore, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses.

Hero.

I thought I heard th' unruly noise of Swords, And Clashing Murmurs of unfriendly words, Besides the Eccho of a hollow Groan.

Van

I heard the dismal noise, and fear th' event, These wild Bandetties live by spoiles alone, Run on in sin, and fear no punishment.

King.

Oh, Oh, Oh.

Hero.

— What noise is that?

Van.

— Some newly Slain By these untam'd Bandetties of the Plaine.

Hero.

And here lies one breathing his latest breath, His face is cold, and all appears like Death; Let's Beare him off Within for his Recovery all means I'le try, For something prompts me, that he must not die.

They take him up, and Exeunt. Enter Theocrine and the Shepherd, the Shepherd brings back Vanlore.

Van.

My dearest Theocrine, in all, you prove Your Honour great, as is your Real Love.

The.

My Vanlore, sure I may believe my eyes, Or doth the suddain Joy my sense surprize; The Cruel pleasures steal so sweetly on, Makes me mistrust the Bliss I run upon.

Van.

Your Bliss is Real, and my Joy's Compleat, Heav'n could not give a happiness more great.

The.

Through doubts and fears I have attain'd my will, But 'twas unkind to let me Languish still.

Van.

That only cast a Cloud on the design, That with more ease you might to Love incline.

And I to live alone retir'd with pain, Expecting still this happiness to gain; Which thus possest, more perfect Bliss I find, Then in the various pleasures of the mind.

The.

Love like the wind oft shifts and seems to cease, As if each minute lull'd it into peace; Sweetly it breaths upon the flowry Plaine, And yet a moment pulls it back again. From Calms to Storms th' unruly Gust doth rise, And scatters all the Clouds about the Skies; So we neglectful, now our Bliss is near, By staying, threaten dangers we should fear: My Lovers Anger, and my Fathers Age, With Thunder will pursue us in his Rage.

Van.

Thou art the Loadstone, and my Soul shall be Directed only by thy Charms and thee. 'Mongst harmless Sheep, and solitary Bowers, We'l wast the tedious Time in pleasant Hours▪ There Love and Pleasure we'l at once possess; Who wades through Crosses meets true Happiness.

Exeunt.

SCENE the Court.

Enter Zannazarro, Glorianda, and Amasia.

Zan.

How sad a change is this! This morning was appointed for more joyful Enterviews.

Glo.

When last nights slumber rob'd our wakeful hopes of the delicious births of fancy, 'twas with fairer promises: Amasia, I fain would comfort thee, but my own griefs make me a stranger to that balmy Language.

Ama.

Dear Sister, thy Passions are too violent; the Messengers are not yet all return'd, nor have we seen Arratus.

Enter Arratus.

Glo.

And here he comes.

Zan.

My Lord, you either come to share in Grief with us, or ease ours by some blest discovery.

Arr.

My Lord, my Son, my Daughter, and my —

Zan.

Peace, no more, mix not theirs with a Sov'raigns loss, whose least drop of Blood is worth a Thousand Lives, speak thy intel∣ligence.

Arr.

My Largest lies within the City walls, and there he has not yet bin heard of; is none with him?

Zan.

Yes, Oroandes,

Enter a Messenger.

here comes our last hopes, speak thy success.

Mess.

Not good my Lord, we've travest all the Fields that Cir∣cles lofty Erix, and yet see no beam of blest Intelligence; all we found worthy to fix an Observation on, was a place beneath the Hermits Rock all stain'd with store of Blood, and near the foot this token of our Grief.

Gives a bloody Handkercher which was the Kings.

Zan.

Oh my Prophetick fears!

Ama.

Our sorrows are confirm'd!

Glor.

They are in Bloody Characters!

Arr.

I'le go and secure the Cittadel, and cry Treason.

Exit. Arratus.

Zan.

Sorrow out-grows all my Resolves, this is an Act so full of Horror 'tis terrible to name it; but if the Force of Syracuse can scourge the Traytors,

— We'l have Their Heads to build a Temple o're his Grave.

Exeunt