Don Sebastian, King of Portugal a tragedy, acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Dryden.

About this Item

Title
Don Sebastian, King of Portugal a tragedy, acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Dryden.
Author
Dryden, John, 1631-1700.
Publication
London :: Printed for Jo. Hindmarsh ...,
1690.
Rights/Permissions

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Subject terms
Sebastião, -- King of Portugal, 1554-1578 -- Drama.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69868.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Don Sebastian, King of Portugal a tragedy, acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Dryden." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69868.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 7, 2025.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

EPILOGUE. TO Don Sebastian, King of Portugall.

Spoken betwixt Antonio and Morayma.
Mor.
I Quak'd at heart for fear the Royal Fashion Shou'd have seduc'd Ʋs two to Separation: To be drawn in, against our own desire, Poor I to be a Nun, poor You a Fryar.
Ant.
I trembled when the Old Mans hand was in, He would have prov'd we were too near of kin: Discovering old Intrigues of Love, like t'other, Betwixt my Father and thy sinfull Mother; To make Ʋs Sister Turk and Christian Brother.
Mor.
Excuse me there; that League shou'd have been rather Betwixt your Mother and my Mufti-Father; 'Tis for my own and my Relations Credit Your Friends shou'd bear the Bastard, mine shou'd get it.
Ant.
Suppose us two Almeyda and Sebastian With Incest prov'd upon us:—
Mor.
Without question Their Conscience was too queazy of digestion.
Ant.
Thou woud'st have kept the Councell of thy Brother And sinn'd till we repented of each other.
Mor.
Beast as you are on Natures Laws to trample; 'Twere fitter that we follow'd their Example

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And since all Marriage in Repentance ends, 'Tis good for us to part while we are Friends, To save a Maids remorses and Confusions E'en leave me now before We try Conclusions.
Ant.
To copy their Example first make certain Of one good hour like theirs before our parting; Make a debauch o're Night of Love and Madness; And marry when we wake in sober sadness.
Mor.
I'le follow no new Sects of your inventing, One Night might cost me nine long months repenting: First wed, and if you find that life a fetter, Dye when you please, the sooner Sir the better: My wealth wou'd get me love e're I cou'd ask it: Oh there's a strange Temptation in the Casket: All these Young Sharpers wou'd my grace importune, And make me thundring Votes of lives and fortune.

Page [unnumbered]

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