Poems on several occasions written by the Honoura ble Sir Robert Howard.

SCEN. 1.

Enter King, and Albertus.

Alb.

IT was this day, Sir, that he intended the sur∣prise; And, notice given my son, with such few men As he could get in readinesse, he hasted thither.

Kin.

'Tis well; but take heed there be no foul play in't. For Mironault has ever appear'd A subject fit to ruine mean suspitions.

Alb.

Love, Sir, can alter all; none more than I Did hear (and wonder, with a pittying thought) This error of his hopefull Youth; but when I think He is a Man, and Youth dwells in his veins, That still pr••pares for Beauty and Ambition, The easie heart. Then look upon the Princesse, And see in her the pain and pride of Nature, Her fresh unsullied beauty, that would tempt The gods to gaze and love; I could almost forgive— —but must believe.

Kin.

Ha!

Alb.

To add unto the power of Love, and all those joyes Her heavenly beauty brings a Kingdom too: Crowns the ambition of his high-fed youth, That makes all dangers lesse, from whose high top They see it lessen'd in the common vale, and onely fit To ••ame the spirits of the meaner minds. —he that dares do, Will act what his ambition tempts him to.

Kin.

I know not; I would bee just to all, and would be safe; And Injuries are as unpleasing to me as Injustice, I would not bear the one, or act the other. When malice spreads a rancour in the breast, That needs a policy to bear it forth, The minds of Kings most think to fit with jealousie, As ever apt for that; believing still, That all such fears dwells with their height of glory. Take heed, my Lord, that this so loose opinion Leads not your tongue, and casts that brand on me. I believe well of all. On farther proof I shall think best of you.

Alb.

Would I were well off.

[aside.

We have not yet (Great Sir) so little left Of kindness to our selves, to play with Thunder; Nor yet so mean— A thought of you, to let you live in danger. Heaven knows all the ambition that now rules our thoughts;

And all we hope for that should crown our wishes, Is to appear loyall to you, we are as free, (Whilst you are so from danger), as a young Lamb From hate or malice.

King.

Nay my Lord, you do mistake, if you be∣lieve You suffer in my thoughts, I am prepar'd Still to reward your care, equally so To punish or preserve his crime, or innocence. When Kings do fall from this, and let each wind Conduct them with its giddinesse; Their Kingdoms at the last, must suffer ship-wrack. Perhaps your innocence, may once as well Suffer unheard, from some malitious tongue: I never yet harbour'd an ill opinion, Rais'd from suspition, or a meaner thoug•••• From others envy, nor yet forget To cherish those, whose loyalties are greatest. Justice is still impartiall, and all Kings, Should only hold her scales: he that strives To weigh down one with power, is unjust To that Great King, that put him first in trust;

Alber.

I'me lost—

[aside.

King.

But my Lord; we give you thanks now for your early care, We would have none discourag'd, to be loyall, 'Tis that which will adorn you here, And help you to Eternity hereafter, Whilst men are just, pleasing rewards will live Within th••ir breasts; greater then I can ••ive.

Exit.

Alber.

Hee's gone.— —I would his ••on••sty were too, That sits upon him like so fit a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, The workman's paid, to have the credit of it. Hee I'l help the gods to many ••••••••omers. How now!

Enter a messenger.

Mes.

My Lord;—

Alber.

From whence comest thou,—Ha,— What newes? my mind mi•• gives.—

Mes.

From your Son.

Alber.

Why, what's the newes?

Mes.

But ill,—when that your son Had round beset the Castle, and all thought sure, The gallant Mir••nault, in his f••arl ••sse mind Weighing the bonds of death, and of an ••n••my, In perfect scales; the first app••ar'd the lightest, And through one Port, brav••ly with his two friends, Issued like Lightning which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Clap, And Thunder follow'd too: whilst in despig••t Of their resistance, through their lives He forc'd his way and safety.—

Alb.

And so ••scap't?

Mes.

Yes, but they are still pursuing; the Princesse too, When that your son app••ar'd, as if h••r eyes Had borrow'd, rage from the afrighting danger, That Mironault was in; upon her brow Inthron'd it with rev••ng••, and so with threats, L••ft him unto his fear••, who by me Desires you to retire straight from Court, Whither the Princesse now directs her haste,

And march with all your forces; no other way Is left to make Conditions. In the mean time, He's still pursuing Mironault.

Alb.

'Tis unhappy.

Mess.

Necessity has left no other means▪ Without this, he bids me tell you, You may dye tamely.

Alb.

Well, I must go; it is the fate of gui••ty men, That such should se••k at saf••ty throug•• more crimes. Men are unhappy when they know not how To value Peace without its losse; And from the want learn how to use, What they could so ill manage wh••n enjoy'd. Ambition gives this blindnesse, yet permits The eyes to gaze upon her t••mpting baits; But in attempting, not what dangers are, They see the Throne, and not the blazing Star. Thus foolish his ungovern'd youth Ha•• made us both alike, Who, rather than to share a common good, Ventur'd through danger at un••••rtain glory: Nor could my power or prayers perswade him from it. With such a grief the Ruler of the day Shook his illustrious tresses, when he heard The ambitious Phaeton make his bold Reque••••, —who did prefer— Before the counsell of the god himself, The long'd-for glories of his glittering Throne. Yet Phoebus mourn'd, the bonds of Nature tye Faster then our own good or honesty.

Exit.