Three new playes; viz. The [brace] bashful lover, Guardian, Very woman. As they have been often acted at the private-house in Black-Friers, by His late Majesties Servants, with great applause. / Written by Philip Massenger, Gent. Never printed before.

Act. 4. Scaen. 1.

Enter Lorenzo, Captains.

Lor.

MAntua is ours; place a strong garrison in it To keep it so; and as a due reward To your brave service, be our Governor in it.

1 Capt:

I humbly thank your Excellence.

Exit.

Lor.

Gonzaga is yet out of our gripe; but his strong Fort St. Leo, which he holds impregnable By the aids of art, as nature, shall not long Retard our absolute conquest. The escape Of fair Matilda, my supposed Mistress, (For whole desir'd possession 'twas given out I made this war) I value not; alas Cupid's too feeble-ey'd to hit my heart, Or could he see, his arrows are too blunt To pierce it; his imagin'd torch is quench'd With a more glorious fire of my ambition T'enlarge my Empire: soft and silken amours, With Carpet-Courtship, which weak Princes stile

The happy issue of a flourishing peace, My toughness scorns: Were there an abstract made Of all the eminent and canoniz'd Beauties By truth recorded, or by Poets feign'd, I could unmov'd behold it, as a Picture Commend the workmanship, and think no more on't; I have more noble ends. Have you not heard yet Of Alonzo, or Pisano?

2 Cap

My Lord, of neither.

Lor.

Two turbulent spirits unfit for discipline, Much less command in war; if they were lost, I shall not pine with mourning.

Enter Martino, Matilda, Galeazo, and Guard.

Mart.

Bring 'em forward; This will make my peace, though I had kill'd his father, Besides the reward that follows.

Lor.

Ha! Martino? Where is Farneze's head? dost thou stare? and where The soldier that desir'd the torture of him?

Mart:

An't please your Excellence —

Lor.

It doth not please us; are our commands obey'd?

Mart.

Farneze's head, sir, Is a thing not worth your thought, the soldiers less sir: I have brought your Highness such a head, a head So well set on too, a fine head.

Lor.

Take that

Strikes him

For thy impertinence: what head, ye Rascal?

Mart.

My Lord, if they that bring such presents to you Are thus rewarded, there are few will strive To be near your Graces pleasures: but I know You will repent your choler. Here's the head, And now I draw the curtain, it hath a face too, And such a face.

Lor.

Ha!

Mart.

View her all o're, my Lord; My company on't, she's sound of wind and limb, And will do her labour tightly, a Bona Roba: And for her face, as I said, there are five hundred City-dub'd Madams in the Dukedom, that would part with Their Jointures to have such another: Hold up your head, Maid.

Lor.

Of what age is the day?

Mart.

Sir, since Sun-rising about two hours:

Lor.

Thou lyest: the Sun of Beauty In modest blushes on her cheeks, but now Appear'd to me, and in her tears breaks forth As through a shower in April, every drop An orient pearl, which as it fals, congeal'd, Were Ear-rings for the Catholick King, Worn on his birth-day.

Mart.

Here's a sudden change.

Lor.

Incensed Cupid, whom even now I scorn'd, Hath took his stand, and by reflexion shines (As if he had two bodies, or indeed A brother-twin, whom sight cannot distinguish) In her fair eyes; see how they head their arrows With her bright beams, now frown, as if my heart Rebellious to their edicts, were unworthy, Should I rip up my bosom, to receive A wound from such divine artillery.

Mart.

I am made for ever:

Mat.

We are lost, dear servant.

Gal.

Vertue's but a word; Fortune rules all.

Mat.

We are her Tennis-balls.

Lor.

Allow her fair, her symetrie and features So well proportion'd, as the heavenly object With admiration would strike Ovid dumb, Nay force him to forget his faculty In verse, and celebrate her praise in prose:

What's this to me? I that have pass'd my youth Unscorch'd with wanton fires, my sole delight In glittering arms, my conquering sword my mistress; Neighing of barbed horfe, the cries and groans Of vanquish'd foes suing for life, my musick: And shall I in the Autumn of my age, Now when I wear the livery of time Upon my head and beard, suffer my self To be transform'd, and like a puling Lover With arms thus folded up, eccho Ay me's! And write my self a Bondman to my Vassal? It must not, nay it shall not be: Remove The object, and the effect dies. Nearer, Martino:

Mart.

I shall have a Regiment, Colonel Martino, I cannot go less.

Lor.

What thing is this thou hast brought me?

Mart.

What thing? Heaven bless me, are you a Florentine? Nay, the Great Duke of Florentines, and having had her So long in your power, do you now ask what she is? Take her aside and learn; I have brought you that I look to be dearly paid for.

Lor.

I am a Soldier; and use of women will, Mar∣tino, rob My nerves of strength.

Mart.

All armor, and no smock? Abominable! A little of the one with the other Is excellent: I ne'r knew General yet, Nor Prince that did deserve to be a Worthy, But he desir'd to have his sweat wash'd off By a juicie Bedfellow.

Lor.

But say she be unwilling to do that office?

Mart.

Wrastle with her, I will wager Ten to one on your Graces side.

Lor.

Slave, hast thou brought me

Temptation in a Beauty not to be With prayers resisted; and in place of councel To master my affections, and to guard My honor now besieg'd by lust, with the arms Of sober temperance, mark me out a way To be a ravisher? Would thou hadst shewn me Some monster, though in a more ugly form Then Nile or Africk ever bred. The Basilisk (Whose envious eye yet never brook'd a neighbour) Kills but the body; Her more potent eye Buries alive mine honor: shall I yield thus? And all brave thoughts of victory and triumphs, The spoils of Nations, the loud applauses Of happy subjects made so by my conquests; And what's the crown of all, a glorious name Insculp'd on Pyramids to posterity, Be drench'd in Lethe, and no object take me But a weak Woman, rich in colours only, Too delicate a touch, and some rare features Which age or sudden sickness will take from her, And where's then the reward of all my service? Love-soothing passions, nay idolatry I must pay to her. Hence, and with thee take This second, but more dangerous Pandora, Whose fatal box, if open'd, will pour on me All mischiefs that mankind is subject to. To the desarts with this Circe, this Calipso, This fair Inchantress; let her spels and charms Work upon beasts and thee, then whom wise nature Ne'r made a viler creature.

Mat.

Happy exile!

Gal.

Some spark of hope remains yet.

Mart.

Come, you are mine now; I will remove her where your Highness shall not Or see or hear more of her: what a sum Will she yield for the Turks Serraglio?

Lor.

Stay, I feel A sudden alteration.

Mart.

Here are fine whimsies.

Lor.

Why should I part with her? can any foul∣ness Inhabit such a clean and gorgeous palace? The fish, the fowl, the beasts may safer leave The elements they were nourish'd in, and live, Then I endure her absence; yet her presence Is a torment to me: Why do I call it so? My sire enjoy'd a woman, I had not been else; He was a compleat Prince, and shall I blush To follow his example? Oh but my choice, Though she gave suffrage to it, is beneath me: But even now in my proud thoughts I scorn'd A Princess, fair Matilda; and is't decreed For punishment, I straight must dote on one What, or from whence I know not? Grant she be Obscure, without a Coat or family, Those I can give; and yet if she were noble, My fondness were more pardonable. Martino, Dost thou know thy prisoner?

Mart.

Do I know my self? I kept that for the Lenvoy; 'tis the daughter Of your enemy, Duke Gonzaga.

Lor.

Fair Matilda! I now call to my memory her picture, And find this is the substance; but her Painter Did her much wrong, I see it:

Mart.

I am sure I tugg'd hard for her, here are wounds can witness, Before I could call her mine.

Lor.

No matter how: Make thine own ransom, I will pay it for her.

Mart.

I knew it would come at last.

Mat.

We are lost again.

Gal.

Variety of afflictions!

Lor.

That his knee that never yet bow'd to mor∣tality,

Kneels

Kisses the earth, happy to bear your weight, I know begets your wonder. Hear the reason, And cast it off, Your beauty does command it: Till now I never saw you; same hath been Too sparing in report of your perfections, Which now with admiration I gaze on. Be not afraid, fair Virgin; had you been Imploy'd to mediate your Fathers cause, My drum had been unbrac'd, my trumpet hung up, Nor had the terror of the war ere frighted His peaceful confines; your demands had been As soon as spoke, agreed to. But you'll answer, And may with reason; Words make no satisfaction For what's in fact committed. Yet take comfort, Something my pious love commands me do, Which may call down your pardon.

Mat.

This expression Of reverence to your person, better suits Takes him up, and kneels. With my low fortune. That you daign to love me, My weakness would perswade me to believe (Though conscious of mine own unworthiness) You being as the liberal eye of heaven Which may shine where it pleases: Let your beams Of favour warm and comfort me, not consume me; For should your love grow to excess, I dare not Deliver what I fear.

Lor.

Dry your fair eyes; I apprehend your doubts, and could be angry If humble love could warrant it, you should Nourish such base thoughts of me: Heaven bear witness, And if I break my vow, dart thunder at me, You are and shall be in my tent as free

From fear of violence, as a cloyster'd Nun Kneeling before the Altar. What I purpose Is yet an Embrion; but grown into form, I'll give you power to be the sweet disposer Of blessings unexpected; that your Father, Your Country, people, children yet unborn too, In holy hymns on Festivals shall sing The triumph of your beauty. On your hand Once more I swear it: O imperious Love! Look down, and as I truly do repent, Prosper the good ends of thy Penitent.

Exeunt.

Enter Octavio and Maria.

Oct.

You must not be too sudden, my Maria, In being known: I am in this Friars habit As yet conceal'd; though his recovery Be almost certain, I must work him to Repentance by degrees. When I would have you Appear in your true shape of sorrow to Move his compassion, I will stamp thus, then You know to act your part.

Asc.

I shall be careful.

Oct.

If I can cure the ulcers of his mind, As I despair not of his bodies wounds, Felicity crowns my labour. Gothrio!

Goth.

Here sir.

[Ent Gothrio]

Oct.

Desire my Patients to leave their chamber, And take fresh air here: how have they slept?

Goth.

Very well sir, I would we were so rid of 'em.

Oct.

Why?

Goth.

I fear one hath the art of memory, and will Remember his gold and jewels: could you not mi∣nister A potion of forgetfulness? what would Gallants

That are in debt, give me for such a receipt To pour in their Creditors drink?

Oct.

You shall restore all, Believ't you shall: will you please to walk?

Goth.

Will you please to put off Your holy habit, and spic'd conscience? One I think infects the other.

Exit.

Oct.

I have observ'd Compunction in Alonzo: he speaks little, But full of retir'd thoughts: The other is Jocund and merry, no doubt, because he hath The less accompt to make here.

Enter Alonzo:

Alon.

Reverend sir, I come to wait your pleasure; but my friend (Your creature I should say, being so my self) Willing to take farther repose, intreats Your patience a few minutes.

Oct.

At his pleasure; pray you sit down, you are faint still.

Alon.

Growing to strength, I thank your goodness: but my mind is troubled, Very much troubled, sir; and I desire, Your pious habit giving me assurance (please Of your skill and power that way, that you would) To be my my Minds physitian.

Oct.

Sir, to that My order binds me, if you please to unload The burthen of your conscience, I will minister Such heavenly cordials as I can, and set you In a path that leads to comfort.

Alon.

I will open My bosoms secrets to you; that I am A man of blood, being brought up in the wars,

And cruel executions, my profession Admits not to be question'd: but in that Being a subject, and bound to obey Whate'r my Prince commanded, I have left Some shadow of excuse: with other crimes As pride, lust, gluttony, it must be told I am besmear'd all over.

Oct.

On repentance mercy will wash it off.

Alon.

O sir, I grant These sins are deadly ones; yet their frequencie With wicked men, make them less dreadful to us. But I am conscious of one crime, with which All ills I have committed from my youth Put in the scale weigh nothing: such a crime, So odious to heaven and man, and to My sear'd up conscience so full of horror, As penance cannot expiate.

Oct.

Despair not, 'Tis impious in man to prescribe limits To the divine compassion; out with it.

Alonz.

Hear then, good man; and when that I have given you The character of it, and confess'd my self The wretch that acted it, you must repent The charity you have extended towards me. Not long before these wars began, I had Acquaintance ('tis not fit I stile it Friendship, That being a vertue, and not to be blended With vitious breach of faith) with the Lord Octavio, The Minion of his Prince and Court, set off With all the pomp and circumstance of greatness: To this then happy man I offer'd service, And with infinuation wrought my self Into his knowledg, grew familiar with him, Ever a welcom guest. This noble Gentleman Was bless'd with one fair daughter, (so he thought

And boldly might believe so, for she was In all things excellent without a Rival) Till I (her Fathers mass of wealth before My greedy eyes, but hoodwink'd to mine honor) With far more subtle arts then perjur'd Paris Ere practis'd on poor credulous Oenone, Besieg'd her Virgin-fort, in a word took it, No vows or imprecation forgotten With speed to marry her.

Oct.

Perhaps she gave you just cause to break those vows.

Alon.

She cause! alas Her innocence knew no guilt, but too much favor To me unworthy of it: 'twas my baseness, My foul ingratitude, what shall I say more? The good Octavio no sooner fell In the displeasure of his Prince, his state Confiscated, and he forc'd to leave the Court, And she expos'd to want; but all my oaths And protestation of service to her, Like seeming flames rais'd by inchantment, vanish'd; This, this sits heavy here.

Oct.

He speaks as if He were acquainted with my plot: You have reason To feel compunction, for 'twas most inhumane So to betray a Maid.

Alon.

Most barbarous.

Oct.

But does your sorrow for the fact beget An aptness in you to make satisfaction For the wrong you did her?

Alon.

Gracious heaven! an aptness! It is my only study; since I tasted Of your compassion, these eyes ne'r were clos'd, But fearful dreams cut off my little sleep, And being awake in my imagination, Her apparition haunted me.

Oct.

'Twas meer fancie:

He stamps

Alon.

'Twas more, grave sir, nay 'tis, Now it appears.

[Ent. Maria]

Oct.

Where?

Alon.

Do you not see there the gliding shadow Of a fair Virgin? that is she, and wears The very garments that adorn'd her when She yielded to my Crocodile tears: A cloud Of fears and diffidence then so chac'd away Her purer white and red, as it foretold That I should be disloyal. Blessed shadow! For 'twere a sin, far, far exceeding all I have committed, to hope only that Thou art a substance: look on my true sorrow, Nay, souls contrition; hear again those vows My perjury cancell'd, stamp'd in brass, and never To be worn out.

[Ent. Gothrio]

Asc.

I can endure no more; Action, not oaths must make me reparation: I am Maria.

Alon.

Can this be?

Oct.

It is, and I Octavio.

Alon.

Wonder on wonder! How shall I look on you? or with what forehead Desire your pardon?

Asc.

You truly shall deserve it In being constant:

Oct.

If you fall not off, But look on her in poverty with those eyes As when she was my heir in expectation You thought her beautiful.

Alon.

She's in herself both Indies to me.

Goth.

Stay, she shall not come A begger to you, my sweet young Mistress! no, She shall not want a dower: here's white and red Will ask a jointure; but how you should make her

Being a Captain, would beget some doubt, If you should deal with a Lawyer.

Alon.

I have seen this purse:

Goth.

How the worl'ds given, I dare not say to lying, Because you are a Soldier; you may say as well This gold is mark'd too: you being to receive it, Should ne'r ask how I got it. I'll run for a Priest To dispatch the matter; you shall not want a Ring, I have one for the purpose. Now sir, I think I am honest.

Exit.

Alon.

This Ring was Pisano's.

Oct.

I'll dissolve this riddle at better leisure: The wound given to my daughter, which in your honor You are bound to cure, exacts our present care.

Alon.

I am all yours sir.

Exeunt.

Enter Gonzaga, Uberti, Manfroy.

Gonz.

Thou hast told too much to give assurance that Her honor was too far engag'd to be By humane help redeem'd: If thou hadst given Thy sad narration this full period, She's dead; I had been happy.

Uber.

Sir, these tears Do well become a father; and my eyes Would keep you company as a forlorn Lover, But that the burning fire of my revenge Dries up those drops of sorrow. We once more, Our broken forces rallied up, and with Full numbers strengthen'd, stand prepar'd to endure A second trial; nor let it dismay us That we are once again to affront the fury Of a victorious Army; their abuse

Of Conquest hath disarm'd themselves, and call'd down The powers above to aid us. I have read Some piece of story, yet ne'r found but that The General that gave way to cruelty, The profanation of things sacred, rapes Of virgins, butchery of infants, and The massacre in cold blood of reverend age, Against the discipline and law of Arms, Did feel the hand of heaven lie heavy on him, When most secure: We have had a late example, And let us not despair but that in Lorenzo It will be seconded.

Gonz.

You argue well, And 'twere a sin in me to contradict you: Yet we must not neglect the means that's lent us To be the Ministers of Justice.

Uber.

No, sir: One day given to refresh our wearied Troops Tir'd with a tedious march, we'll be no longer Coop'd up, but charge the Enemy in his trenches, And force him to a battel:

[Shouts within]

Gonz.

Ha! how's this? In such a general time of mourning, shouts And acclamations of joy? Long live the Princess! long live Matilda! Within they cry

Uber.

Matilda! the Princess name, Matilda, oft re-eccho'd.

Enter Farneze.

Gonz.

What speaks thy haste?

Far.

More joy and happiness Then weak words can deliver, or strong faith Almost give credit to: The Princess lives, I saw her, kist her hand.

Gonz.

By whom deliver'd?

Far.

That is not to be stall'd by my report, This only must be told: As I rode forth With some choise troops to make discovery Where the Enemy lay, and how intrench'd; a Leader Of th'adverse party, but unarm'd, and in His hand an Olive-branch, encounter'd me; He shew'd the great Dukes seal that gave him power To parly with me: his desires were, that Assurance for his safety might be granted To his royal Master, who came as a friend (And not as an enemy) to offer to you Conditions of peace. I yielded to it. This being return'd, the Dukes Pretorum open'd; When suddenly in a triumphant Chariot Drawn by such soldiers of his own as were For insolence after victory condemn'd Unto this slavish office, the fair Princess Appear'd, a wreath of Laurel on her head, Her robes majestical, their richness far Above all value, as the present age Contended that a womans pomp should dim The glittering triumphs of the Roman Caesars. I am cut off; no Canons throat now thunders, Nor Fife nor Drum beat up a charge; choise Musique Ushers the parent of security, long absent Peace.

Manf.

I know not what to think on't.

Uber.

May it poise the expectation!

Enter Soldiers (unarm'd, with olive-branches) Captains; Lorenzo, Galeazo, Martino, Matilda (a wreath of laurel on her head, in her chariot drawn through them.)

Gonz.

Thus to meet you Great Duke of Tuscany, throws amazement on me:

But to behold my daughter, long since mourn'd for, And lost even to my hopes, thus honour'd by you, With an excess of comfort overwhelms me: And yet I cannot truly call my self Happy in this solemnity, till your Highness Vouchsafe to make me understand the motives That in this peaceful way hath brought you to us.

Lor.

I must crave licence first; for know, Gonzaga, I am subject to anothers will, and can Nor speak nor do without permission from her: My curled forehead, of late terrible To those that did acknowledge me their Lord,

While Lor. speaks, Uberti and the rest present themselves to Matilda.

Is now as smooth as rivers when no wind stirs: My frowns or smiles, that kill'd or sav'd, have lost Their potent awe, and sweetness: I am transform'd (But do not scorn the Metamorphosis) From that fierce thing men held me; I am captiv'd, And by the unresistable force of beauty Led hither as a prisoner. Is't your pleasure that I shall deliver those injunctions which Your absolute command impos'd upon me, Or daign your self to speak 'em?

Mat.

Sir, I am Your property, you may use me as you please; But what is in your power and breast to do, No Orator can dilate so well.

Lor.

I obey you. That I came hither as an enemy With hostile arms, to the utter ruine of Your Country, what I have done, makes apparent: That fortune seconded my will, the late Defeature will make good: That I resolv'd To force the scepter from your hand, and make Your Dukedom tributary, my surprizal Of Mantua your Metropolis can well witness:

And that I cannot fear the change of fate, My Army flesh'd in blood, spoil, glory, conquest Stand ready to maintain: Yet I must tell you By whom I am subdu'd, and what's the ransom I am commanded to lay down.

Gonz.

My Lord, you humble your self too much, 'tis fitter You should propose, and we consent.

Lor.

Forbear, The articles are here subscrib'd and sign'd By my obedient hand: All prisoners Without a ransom set at liberty, Mantua to be deliver'd up; the Rampires Ruin'd in the assault, to be repair'd; The loss the husbandman receiv'd, his crop Burnt up by wanton licence of the soldier To be made good; with whatsoever else You could impose on me, if you had been The Conqueror, I your Captive.

Gonz,

Such a change wants an example: I must owe this favour To the clemencie of the old Heroique valour, That spar'd when it had power to kill; a vertue Buried long since, but rais'd out of the grave By you to grace this latter age.

Lor.

Mistake not The cause that did produce this good effect, If as such you receive it: 'twas her beauty Wrought first on my rough nature; but the vertnes Of her fair soul, dilated in her converse, That did confirm it.

Mat.

Mighty sir, no more: You honor her too much, that is not worthy To be vour servant.

Lor.

I have done, and now Would gladly understand that you allow of The art cles propounded.

Gonz.

Do not wrong Your benefits with such a doubt; they are So great and high, and with such reverence To be receiv'd, that if I should profess I hold my Dukedom from you as your vassal, Or offer'd up my daughter as you please To be dispos'd of, in the point of honor And a becoming gratitude, 'twould not cancel The bond I stand engag'd for: but accept Of that which I can pay, my all is yours sir, Nor is there any here (though I must grant Some have deserv'd much from me) for so far I dare presume, but will surrender up Their interest to that your Highness shall Daign to pretend a title.

Uber.

I subscribe not to this condition

Far.

The services This Prince hath done your Grace in your most danger, Are not to be so slighted.

Gal.

'Tis far from me To urge my merits, yet I must maintain Howe'r my power is less, my love is more; Nor will the gracious Princess scorn to acknowledge I have been her humble servant.

Lor.

Smooth your brows, I'll not incroach upon your right, for that were Once more to force affection (a crime With which should I the second time be tainted, I did deserve no favour) neither will I Make use of what is offer'd by the Duke, Howe'r I thank his goodness: I'll lay by My power; and though I should not brook a Rival, (What we are, well consider'd) I'll descend To be a third Competitor; he that can With love and service best deserve the garland,

With your consent let him wear it; I despair not The trial of my fortune.

Gonz.

Bravely offer'd, and like your self, great Prince.

Uber.

I must profess I am so taken with it, that I know not Which way to express my service.

Gal.

Did I not build Upon the Princess grace, I could sit down, And hold it no dishonor.

Mat.

How I feel My soul divided! all have deserv'd so well, I know not where to fix my choice.

Gon.

You have Time to consider: will you please to take Possession of the Fort? then having tasted The fruits of peace, you may at leisure prove Whose plea will ptosper in the Court of Love.

Exeunt.