The Thracian wonder a comical history as it hath been several times acted with great applause / written by John VVebster and VVilliam Rowley.

ACT. 1. SCENE 1.

Enter Pheander King of Thrace, with his Sword drawn, two Noble-men holding him; Ariadne flying before him with a Childe in her arms.

1 Lord.

GOod my Liege.

2 Lord.

Dear Soveraign.

Phean.

Why do you keep the Sword of Justice back From cutting off so foul a blasted branch?

2 Lord.

Oh let your milder sence censure this Fate, And cast her not away in hate of spleen.

1 Lord.

Consider Sir, she is your onely Childe, your Kingdoms Heir, your Countries future Hope, and she may live

Phe.

To be a Strumpet, sir: Do not vex my soul with extolla∣tion of a thing so vile. Is't possible a Lady of her Birth should stain her Royal Race with beastly lust, and mix the blood of Kings with a base issue? Was it for this you were so long mew'd up within your private Chamber? Was it for this we gave so strict a charge to have your tedious Sickness lookt unto? But our examples shal be such on thee, as all the world shal take a warning by. What man, or devil in the shape of man was he, that durst presume for to pollute thee? Either confess him, or by all our gods Ile plague thy body with continual tortures; that being done, I will devise a death, that time to come shall never pattern it.

Enter Radagon with his Sword drawn.

Rad.

There's not the smallest torture while I live That shall afflict, or touch her tender body.

Phe.

What Traitor-slave dares interrupt the passage of our will? Cut him in pieces.

Ariad.

Oh, hold your hands; for mercy let him live, And twenty pieces within my bosom give.

Phe.

Death? Now 'tis probable, He lay my life this Groom is Father to the Strumpets Brat.

Enter a Guard.

A Guard there: seize him, make the Slave confess; And if he will not, kill him instantly.

Rad.

Villains, unhand me, Ile reveal the truth, I will not die in base obscurity. Pheander, know I am not what I seem (an ab∣ject Groom) but Royal as thy self: My name is Radagon, son to thy Enemy, Cicillia's King; this thirteen moneths I have conti∣nued here, in hope for to obtain what now I have, my Ariadnes love. 'Tis I am Father to this Princely Boy, and Ile maintain't even with the utmost hazard of my life.

Phe.

Thy life, base Letcher, that is the smallest satisfaction that thou canst render for thy foul Transgression. And wer't not 'gainst the Law of Arms and Nature, these hands should sacrifice your guilty souls; and with your bloods wash the foul stain from off our Royal House. As for the Brat, his brains shall be dasht out, no base remembrance shall be left of him, Ile have my will effected instantly.

1 Lord.

Dear Soveraign, let Pity plead this Case, and Natu∣ral Love reclaim your high displeasure. The Babe is guiltless of the Fact committed, and She is all the children that you have, then for your Countries cause, and Kingdoms good, be pleased to take her to your grace agen.

2 Lord.

Besides my Liege, 'tis known that Radagon Is by his Noble Birth, a worthy Lord, Princely descended, of a Royal Stock, Although not Heir apparent to a Crown; Then since their hearts have sympathiz'd in one, Confirm with love this happy Union.

Phe:

This hand shall be his Priest that dares agen presume to speak for her. What worse disgrace did ever King sustain, than I by this luxurious couple have? But you shall see our Clemency is such, that we will mildlier sentence their vilde Fact, than they themselves can look for, or deserve. Take them asunder, and attend our Doom.

Rad.

Before you speak, vouchsafe to hear me, Sir: It is not for my self I bend my knee, Nor will I crave the least forgiveness,

But for your Daughter; Do but set her free, And let me feel the worst of Tyranny.

Ariad.

The like Submission do I make for him.

Phe.

Stop her mouth, we never more intend to hear her speak: I would not have a Token of Remembrance, that ever I did bear the Name of Father. For you, lascivious Sir, on pain of death we charge you leave our Kingdom instantly: two days we limit you for your departure; which time expired, 'tis death to tread upon our Thracian Bounds.

But Huswife, as for you, You with your Brat, wee'l send afloat the Main, There to be left, never to Land again: And that your Copes-mate may be sure to loose The chief content of his desired Bliss, You shall be guarded from our Kingdoms Confines, And put to Sea, with several Windes and Tides, That ye may never more enjoy each other: She in a small Boat without Man or Oar, Shall to the mercy of the Waves be left. He in a Pinnace without Sayl or Pilate, Shall be dragg'd forth some five leagues from the shore, And there be drencht in the vast Ocean. You hear your Doom, which shall for ever stand irrevocable. Make no reply: Go strumpet, get thee hence, No sin so vile as Disobedience.

Exit Phe. the rest stay

Ariad.

A heavy, bitter Sentence! when for Love we must be banisht from our Native right: Had his high Rage but suffered me to speak, I could have my Chastity as clear, as is the unspot∣ted Lamb of Innocence.

1 Lord.

Alas, good Lady: Now on my faith I do believe as much, Ile back return unto his Majesty, and urge him to recal his heavy Doom.

Ariad.

Oh no, I would not for the world, believe me sir, Endanger you in such an Embassy. Let him persist, the Heavens hath ever sent, A Tower of strength to guard the innocent. Oh Radagon, we two shall never meet, Until we tread upon the higher Frame.

Farewel, Dear Love. Poor Babe, thy wretched Birth▪ Makes us to part eternally on earth.

Exit Ariad. & Guard.

Rad.

My life, my soul, all my falicity, Is in a trice divided from my sight! No matter now what ere become of me, All earthly joys are lost in loosing thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Titterus and Pallemon.

Tit.

Come, I must know your cause of Discontent.

Pal.

I know it is your love to urge thus far, and 'tis my love thus to conceal it from you: should I relate my cause of Sorrow to you, and you seeking my remedy, should wound your self, think what a Corsive it would prove to me. And yet I wonder you conceive it not; if you consider truly your own state, you'l finde our cause of grief to be alike.

Tit.

You have found a pretty way to silence me, but 'twill not serve, indeed it will not, sir, because I know you do dissemble with me. The strongest Allegation that ye have, is that you sor∣row for a Fathers death, and that I know is feigned; for since that time my self have heard you, in your Roundelays more fro∣lick far than any of the Swains; and in your pastimes on the Ho∣lidays strive to surpass the activest of us all, therefore that cannot serve you for Excuse; And for your flocks, I'm sure they thrive as well as any shepherds do upon the plain, that makes me won∣der, and importunate to know the cause that might procure this sadness.

Pal.

Since nothing but the Truth will satisfie, Take't in a word, brother: I am in Love.

Tit.

Ha, ha, what's that?

Pal.

A god which many thousands do adore.

Tit.

A Fable that fond fools gives credit too: I that have bin a Shepherd all my life, and ne're train'd up to School as thou hast bin, would scorn to be deluded by a Fiction, a thing that's no∣thing but inconstancy. Didst never hear the Invective that I made?

Pal.

No, nor desire it now.

Tit.

Yes, prithee mark it, Ile tell thee my opinion now of Love. Love is a Law, a Discord of such force, That 'twixt our Sense and Reason makes divorce.

Love 's a Desire, that to obtain betime, We loose an Age of Years pluckt from our prime. Love is a thing to which we soon consent, As soon refuse, but sooner far repent. Then what must women be that are the cause,

Enter old Anti∣mon & Clown.

That Love hath life? that Lovers feel such laws? They 'r like the Windes upon Lapanthaes shore, That still are changing. Oh then love no more. A womans Love is like that Syrian Flow'r, That buds, and spreads, and withers in an hour.

Pal.

See Orpheus, you have drawn Listners.

Tit.

What, dost make beasts of 'em?

Ant.

Come son, let's make haste to fold up our flocks, I fear we shall have a foul Evening.

Clown.

I think so too Father, for there's a strong winde risen in the back door. S'nails! yonder's Mr. Titterus the merry Shep∣herd, and the old fool my father would pass by; wee'l have a Fit of Mirth before we part.

Tit.

Hoyse a Gods-name, cannot the Puppy see?

Clown.

Hardly sir, for he has been troubled with sore eyes this nine days.

Tit.

Muscod, come hither, what shall I give thee to put my brother Pallemon from his dumps?

Clown.

I do not know what you'l give me, but promise what you will, I'm sure to be paid if, I meddle with him: he's the strangest humor'd man now of late that e're I met withal; he was ready to lay his Hook o're my pate t'other morning, for giving him the time of the day. But upon one condition Ile venter a knock this once.

Tit.

What's your condition?

Clown.

Marry, that you would give me a delicate Song to court my Wench withal; but it must be a good one, for women are grown so musical now adays, they care not a pin for a Song un∣less it be well prickt.

Tit.

Oh, I have one a purpose: hark, shalt hear it.

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Seren.

Nothing shall serve, but what I have prefixt.

Pal.

Ile pluck the Moon from forth the Starry Throne, And place thee there to light the lower Orb; And if stern Pluto offer to embrace thee, Ile pitch him head-long into Phlegeton.

Stren.

Phebus defend me! Oh, I fear he's mad.

Pal.

Or if thou'lt live, and be the Shepherds Queen, Ile fetch Senessa frown the Doun of Swans to be thy handmaid; the Phry∣gian Boy that Jove so doted on, shall be thy Page, and serve thee on his knee: Thou shalt be guarded round with Jolly Swains, such-as was Luno's Love on Latma's hill: Thy Musick shall sur∣pass the Argo's tamer. If this content thee not, Ile dive into the bottom of the Deep, and fetch thee Bracelets of the Orient Pearl, the Treasure of the Sea shall all be thine.

Ser.

He's stark mad! some power withhold him here, Until I finde some place to shelter me.

Exit.

Pal.

Art thou gone in haste? Ile not forsake thee; Runn'st thou ne're so fast, Ile o'retake thee: Or the Dales, or the Downs, through the green Meadows, From the fields through the towns, to the dimshadows. All along the Plain, to the low Fountains, Up and down agen from the high Mountains: Eccho then, shall agen tell her I follow, And the Floods to the Woods, carry my holla, holla, ce, la, ho, ho, hu

Exit.

A dumb-show.

Thunder and Lightening.

Enter old Antimon bringing in Ariadne shipwrackt, the Clown tur∣ning the childe up and down, and wringing the Clouts. They pass over the Stage.

Exeunt.

Enter Radagon all wet, looking about for shelter as shipwrackt. Enter to him Titterus, seems to question him, puts off his Hat and Coat, and puts on him, so guides him off.

Exeunt. Storm cease.

Enter Chorus.

Chor.

This storm is o're, but now a greater storm is to be fear∣ed, that is, your Censures of this History. From cruel shipwrack you have here beheld the preservation of these banisht Princes, who being put to sea in Mastless Boats, with several Windes and

Tides were driven back to the same Coast that they were banisht from; which understanding, lest they should be known, they change their Names and Habits, and perswade the silly shepherds they are Foreigners: in several Cottages remote from Court these Lovers live, thinking each other dead. The sighs, the tears, the passions that were spent on either side, we could describe to you,

Enter Time with an Hour-glass, sets it down, and exit.

But time hath barr'd us: This is all you see That he hath lent us for our History. I doubt we hardly shall conclude so soon: But if you please to like our Authors Pen, We'l beguile Time, and turn his Glass agen.

Exit.

Finis Actus Primi.