Poems, viz. 1. A panegyrick to the king. 2. Songs and sonnets. 3. The blind lady, a comedy. 4. The fourth book of Virgil, 5. Statius his Achilleis, with annotations. 6. A panegyrick to Generall Monck. / By the Honorable Sr Robert Howard.

ACT 2.

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 alf 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 tame the spirits of the meaner minds. —he that dares do, Will act what his ambition tempts him to.

Kin.

I know not; I would see 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 thought 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 their breasts; greater then I can give.

[Exit.

Alber.

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

[Enter a messenger.

Mes.

My Lord;—

Alber.

From whence comest thou,—Ha,— What newes? my mind mis-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 Mironault, in his fearlesse mind Weighing the bonds of death, and of an enemy, In perfect scales; the first appear'd the lightest, And through one Port, bravely with his two friends, Issued like Lightning which foretells a Clap, And Thunder follow'd too: whilst in despight Of their resistance, through their lives He forc'd his way and safety.—

Alb.

And so escap't?

Mes.

Yes, but they are still pursuing; the Princesse too, When that your son appear'd, as if her eyes Had borrow'd, rage from the afrighting danger, That Mironault was in; upon her brow Inthron'd it with revenge, and so with threats, Left him unto his fears, 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 guilty men, That such should seek at safety through 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 when enjoy'd. Ambition gives this blindnesse, yet permits The eyes to gaze upon her tempting baits; But in attempting, not what dangers are, They see the Throne, and not the blazing Star. Thus foolish his ungovern'd youth Has made us both alike, Who, rather than to share a common good, Ventur'd through danger at uncertain 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 Request, —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.

ACT 2. SCEN. 2.

Enter Princess, Phylena.

Prin.

THat I had wings, Phylena; this revenge Justice it self will follow.

Phyl.

Pray heaven, Madam, no designer Has been before us.

Prin.

It is my fear.

Phyl.

But yet, You may be confident of your father's temper, Which does dispence Justice with deliberation Besides your interest.

Prin.

Would we could learn what were become of him. They still pursue him, sure; and heaven preserve His noble life from an untimely fate. How the State-rascalls too were pleased VVith the suspition of a trecherous danger; And grew as busie as a new wak't Fly, At the first news of Summer.

Phyl.

There is a basenesse runs through all their veins, And ranckles in their bloods, which to their children Descends; a loath'd Inheritance.

Prin.

But who are these?

Enter Amione and Follower.

Phyl.

A very handsom person.

Prin.

Extreamly fair, I swear; she bends this way.

Amio.

Excellent Princesse—

[she kneels.

Pardon the rude griefs of a distressed Maid,

That throws her at your feet; for your clear eyes (VVhich sends a comfort upon pleased beholders) To see and pitty; you, that nature gave Perfections above all; 'tis you alone VVe must believe excells in goodnesse too. Nothing that's ill can have so fair a dwelling. You shall have still a Virgin's prayer, That yours may ne're successlesse fly To those above, that those fair blossoms Never have cares for to disturb their calmnesse, Or force a wrincle on those snowy plains; But may the beauty of a peace within, Preserve and equall those your outward lustres.

Prin.

Rise, pretty Maid, you should have ask'd and tri'd, VVhether at first I had been worth these prayers. She must be very good that does deserve 'em▪ See, Phylena, flowers, I swear,

she rises weeping

Receive not so much sweetnesse from fresh drops, As she from those. Her grief adds to her sweetnesse. VVhat is it, gentle Maid, you would desire? Promise your self, if I can help you in't.

Amio.

The gods reward you. Let me but blush, And I will say, the act may too; he is too near That I should tell you more. And yet, me-thinks, He does deserve as much as I can say; And his cause named to my poor heart, Seems eloquence enough to move a pitty. Pardon my disturbed passions.

Prin.

Nay, fairest Maid— You injure me and your own hopes together, To keep me in suspence: I would as willingly Yield you my aid, as you could haste to ask it, For the ble•••• subject of your fair opinion.

Amio.

I do not doubt your goodnesse; pardon the throng Of all my tedious griefs. Know then, You best of Princesses, for sure his name Has reach'd your ears, the unhappy Mironault, That much deserv'd to live, is like to fall By bloody and unworthy hands.

Prin.

O Phylena! I'me lost.

[aside.

In that beauty is all my comfort buried.

Phyl.

Madam, what do you mean? Madam, for heaven's sake; why, Madam?

Prin.

I prethee let me go, thou art too cruell. I shall enjoy peace undisturb'd hereafter.

Phyl.

But hear her out, and do but search the truth, Then I will let you die. I would not for the world Any should guesse the cause.

Prin.

Alas!

Phyl.

Why, if they do, they cann't condemn the grief.

Prin.

O Phylena, when Love has entred in the out∣ward Forts, Yet there is still a small reserve of Reason, Which Love laughs at, rather than thinks it worth His rage or storming; for he knows it must Perish and starve, when the relief Of all the nobler Faculties are kept out

By the insulting Conqueror, who contemns All the attempts I fain would make against him.

Amio.

I see I am decreed to all misfortunes,

she speaks as no minded.

That I should now disturb you too, who, heaven knows, I willingly would please. Why do you turn Away your head? How often have I heard His prayers sent to heaven for your joys, That now denies to look upon his woes? I'le kneel again, for in such a cause It were impiety to rise successelesse. Nothing but Seas and Winds are deaf to prayers, And Beasts to mercy; who would expect A hidden form in undisturbed skies? Or in that clearer breast a cruelty? If you deny, I'le grow a fixed Monument, Still to upbraid your rigour.

Prin.

O Phylena, why do you let me languish? In her beauty dwells an undoing lustre.

Phyl.

What mean you, Madam? can you believe The world can shew a subject for your jealousie?

Amio.

I see I grow a trouble, I durst have sworn You had been more charitable. How often have I heard The now unpittied Mironault affirm, You were the treasure of this world's perfections; And wondred any thing but your fair self Should know what joys were. Perhaps you too Believe as much, or else you could not think

All his unpittied miscries are just. Had Nature Given you a Brother, and your early loves Blest undisturb'd from Nature's fruitfull Cradle, You would have begg'd—as now— His hopelesse sister does. But sure I should have pittied more. And yet perhaps our interests makes us partiall: Yes I could wish I had your power to try.

Phyl.

Now, Madam—

Prin.

Forgive me, gentle Maid; it was the power Of thy told griefs that seiz'd my faculties, And left me able to do nought but grieve. Forgive the time I lost to share with thee: You may forgive the injuries of kindnesse. And though my self were witnesse to the action Thy griefs made it a new afflicting story. Each storm renews in Merchants minds The story of the shipwrack. Nor do I blush To avow this, since I must not lose The justnesse of my breast, that does believe His innocence above suspition.

Amio.

May heaven inspire you to wish well, And grant your wishes too, you might have then, Perhaps, a joy as great as he would have, Did he but know you pitty him.

Prin.

In the performance then of what I say, He will have more; which I so much wish him That you shall witnesse all pursued with haste. Nor shall you be a stranger longer to me. Yet I shall blush, although I give you leave

To see the partiality: but more time Now spent in grass or leaves, would be his injury. And we may ruine, what we would relieve, Should we without attempting succour grieve.

[Exeunt.

ACT 2. SCEN. 3.

Enter Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysenor.

Pys.

WOuld I were a Dog, and could lick my self whole. I shall be as fly-blown, as a ruine cheese, How i'st Hyppasus!

Hyp.

But scurvy, would we might rest.

Miro.

O me; 'Tis an unhappinesse, that I should bring You into these misfortunes, you have deserved Better of me, and yet you may forgive me, I would have shared as much with you.

Hyp.

We would not make such an excuse then, Sir.

Miro.

You chide me nobly, I find, I need some rest. And yet by all those powers, that caused these mis∣chiefs, My life shall end them, e're I'le be his prisoner.

Pys.

Nay, wee'l all dye; I hope 'tis no offence To talk of saving our sweet lives;

In order to that, this next fair house Must be our Garrison, 'tis ten to one, But there we find some three or four brown loaves, To victuall us for a day; perhaps a sample Of good seed-Corn, lies in the parlour Cubbard; We shall eat moderately, come we must advance And storm it.

Hyp.

You have no other way Sir, we are so weak, There is no refuge else, and we are still Hotly pursued, if they intend our mischiefs, VVe may hold out against that petty number▪ If they raise more, we too shall have relief By the Princesse, or your friends; if not, VVe may make some Conditions.—

Miro.

A wretched shift, and yet it may preserve us, But let us use it nobly: Heaven guide us.

Pys.

I'le advance, and knock: Within there▪ Ho!

[knock.

He struck so hard, the bason broke,—

Enter Peter.

Ho! what a Tarquin's here,

Pet.

VVho have we here?

Pys.

Two or three strangers that have lost their way.

Pet.

And you would be directed.

Pys.

Pox on your nimble Charity;

[Aside.

We have been sett upon by thieves, and hurt, And must desire some small refreshment.

Pet.

Why, this 'tis; The age is grown so perfect now, That all fall's in the way of Begging, And by the word Refreshment.

Pys.

Nay, Sir, none of your moralities on the age, Help us to the speech of the Master, Or Mistris of the house, It must be so, Sir;

Pet.

Here's neither.

Pys.

What the Devil i'st.

Pet.

A Lady.

Pys.

Plague on your formall Coxcomb. Lets see your Lady then,

Pet.

That's more then shee'l do you.

Pys.

By this light, but she shall.

Pet.

Had she sworn so, she had been for-sworn;

Pys.

Sir, we would willingly be Civill, Pray let's receive your Ladie's answer, But no more of yours:

Pet.

You shall have it.—

[Exit.

Pys.

This Rogue has bagg pipes in his Lungs. A meer Land-Remora, we wanted but the plague To have heard his pedigree; He had learn't the policy of the old Roman, To ruine by delayes; we might have fainted Under his wise Cunc-tator-ship.

Hyp.

'Twas a rare Scene, be sure, Pysenor, You shall have none of the best drink.

Miro.

VVhen she comes, you shall be chief, And we your humble servants.

Pys.

And I'le be insolent enough: now Sir, For such a Bird as the Princesse.

Miro.

Nay Pysenor.—

Pys.

Hang it, this love, 'twill make your wounds ranckle.

There's nothing like a merry plaister. Hark, I hear them rusling,

Enter Caeca, Rui∣never, and Peter.

Mercy on us, what have we here, December, with the too scurvy months at her heels? She ha's dig'd up all her ancestors; And wrap't their winding sheets about her, I'le advance.

Caeca.

VVhere stands he, Peter▪

Peter.

Straight on; now must not I proceed For fear I should discover, she were blind.

Pys.

VVhither a divell will she march

She goes straight on.

Hippasus, lie down in the way,

Hyp.

And be hanged, put on your serious face,

Pys.

Save you sweet Reverence.

Caeca.

Are you the Gentleman? Peter, is this he?

Pet.

Yes, forsooth.

Pys.

Slight, shee'd have her man make affidavit of it,

[aside.

VVe are those Madam, that would fain obtain Some pitty in your eyes,—why,—shee's blind,

[aside.

Blind, as an old Do-Cunny.— VVe want a Charity, and we hope That your grave years, ha's taught you that fair story,

Caeca.

From whence come you?

Pys.

VVe are Gentlemen, and have been hurrby thieves. You need not fear to help our hard misfortunes, Our weak Conditions cannot threaten danger, You may believe, we would deserve your kindnesse,

And our lives, which if you preserve, Shall wait upon your beauty.

Hyp.

What a dissembling tongue the rogue has,

[aside.

Pys.

We went as long, as we could gain a leave From weaknesse, as unwilling— To be a burthen to any, but our fates Threw us on you, for which we dare not chide them.

Hyp.

This rogue would court a bitch—

[aside.

Pys.

Sirrah, I'le fit you.—

Caeca.

A fine well-spoken gentleman.

Pys.

For if we did, we should be too unjust For you must needs be good, because the gods Let you so long live to instruct the world, —Or else afraid of your blind company—

[aside.

But at your feet— We throw our selves and all our miseries, And cancell fear, whilst we exp••ct to hear Our doom from your fair lips.

Caeca.

Quinever.

Quin.

Madam.

Caeca.

I'st a handsome man?

Quin.

Yes indeed, as e're I saw.

Caeca.

I feel just such a Qualm, as I had When I was still falling in love, he has a sweet tongue. Noble gentleman, you're very welcome; You shall have all you want, pray come neer: Indeed, I am much taken with your speech, 'Tis very curteous, once in my youth

I understood these complements, And have not yet forgot them; I shall remember them more fresh If you repeat them.

Pys.

Why so, I shall be engaged to tell tales

[aside

In the chimney-corner.

Caec.

Peter, Go in, get the best chambers ready; Let them have something presently to eat. Pray come ••n, you'r very welcom. Your hand, good Sir.

Pys.

We are your servants. Now do I walk Like the great Turk, that newly has put out The eyes of an old kinswoman. Here we shall find Good Fortune sure, for that whore too is blind.

[Exeunt.

ACT. 2. SCEN. 4.

Enter King solus.

Kin.

HOw much unknown is reall happinesse? And all are cheated with the name of thing? Or we are all deceiv'd, or else the joy Grows poor by the enjoyment; to me A Crown's a glorious misery, Suspition waits on all our appetites, And sleep not pleases but affrights. Kings have hard ways for to preserve a Crown,

To give to others fears, and hide their own. The way's but narrow between frowns and smiles, To avoid both Contempt and Tyranny. For either is a Rock to split upon This glorious and frail Bark of Majesty; When-People do not ask, and yet Kings give, Content and safety with them both may live. But when they venture to reform the State, Princes must suffer then By their own fears, or by their people's hate. They hide still what they mean in a redresse, And know ill acts are buried with successe. Seek peace in storms, and in disorder safety, —Till in a Chaos they have felt Constraint and Freedom undistinguisht dwelt. Their first fond way to reach at Liberty Is, to assault those they believe too high. And had the gods not Thunder, sure there are That would attempt— —to light a Candle at a Star. But Kings, like Suns, that at some time must pay Their lustres in another Sphear, must leave Stars fitted with influence to direct this night. —Yet, like the Queen of Night, to know, That to his beams their lustre they do owe. O Symathocles, you'r welcom; Did you dispatch

Enter Sy∣mathocles.

What I directed you?

Sym,

I did, Sir; and the Troops were marching, But the arrivall of the Princesse prevented.

Kin

Is she come, then?

Sym.

But now arrived, Sir.

Kin.

'Tis well, Symathocles. You have heard sure of the late accident: 'Tis odd; What think you?

Sym.

'Tis hard to guesse, Sir, easier far to doubt. The Princesse must inform us all.

Kin.

I have suspended too my thoughts in this. Haste is an ill companion still to Justice. And whilst we hear at distance things unprov'd, The story of their lives prevails still most, That has been fair in Mironault. Yet our frailty Guides us to unsuspected acts, so may the best of men Fall to the least suspected crimes; that weaknesse Crows with our years, and alteration••s still By Nature nur••.

Sym.

You have weighed, great Sir, Things in so just and serious a scale, That whilst thus evenly you preserve your mind, You'l need no other Oracle; mean hasty fears Still tyranny begets, non can deserve Their safety, that attempt it that way That poorly tells the world, he fears the reach Of common hands; none but the Eagles gaze Upon the Sun, unlesse it shrinck in clowds. Nor do the common eyes attempt your glories, Till shrouded in your fears. He's still most safe That tells the world, He cannot be in danger, For they'l believe it then, and 'tis most just, If they will borrow fears, that he should trust.

Justice will then be ripe, when every thought Takes its slow birth neither from fear nor passion. And 'twill be fruit worthy a King to bear, And bless the appetites of them that gather.

Kin.

You have hit my thoughts; See,

Enter Prin∣cess, Pylora, Followers.

Here comes more Information. I'le see if she'l begin. —Rise, you are welcom.

[Prin. kneels.

Prin.

I must not, Sir, till I receive —more then a common Blessing— Your Justice is enough to case my fears. Yet pardon me, if so much of Woman rules me, To tell you all I suffer'd.

Kin.

What mean you?

Prin.

Great Sir, you might believe indeed I should be undisturb'd, where you procure Peace from your carefull thoughts. And sure it was The child of Insolence and high Contempt That curst attempt the ruden••sse.

Kin.

It was so, but to the matter.

Prin.

When at my journey's end I was arrived, Thither came Mironault in his own language To pay a duty which he owed your child; Where being scarcely rested, and resolved With the next rising Sun to seek our sport, But word was brought, the Castle was surrounded By Soldiers, commanded by Phylanter; Their businesse was for Mironault, w••o they said Went to surprise me there, who onely came With two brave friends, and I dare swear with thoughts

As innocent as Infants; when he heard The Castle was be-set, seriously weighing Not Justice sought his life but Treachery, Disdain'd to fall upon so mean a score. As an ungovern'd Torrent issues forth, Bearing down all before it, and in the action Finds its unknown power, when its streams Are with a stop resisted, o're-whelming What was believ'd beyond its power before. So from resistance his disdaining rage Atchiev'd a victory, which his thoughts Would ne're have hop'd nor aim'd at; still Philanter's rage Pursues his noble life. This is enough Whilst you are just, nor need I to repeat The injury to me.

Kin.

But they perhaps Might have a secret message of the intent Of Mironault, you would be loath I see To have one testifie as much.

Prin.

You cannot find one so extreamly bad, So far from being to himself a friend; His story in the world has nobler truths, Than to be fouled by any base accuser. If all were true, it is your justice sure, And not their furie, that should punish.

Kin.

For farther satisfaction of you; Who waits there? Go call the Lord Albertus hither.

[Exit Messenger.

Prin.

In this petition too, Sir, oyns with me This Maid, who from one womb With the unhappy Mironault took her birth:

You will have many knees as he has hearts; And yet none needs to beg, for you are just: Yet you must pardon those loves that mix with fears. We oftner then we need wipe pretious Jewells. His value makes us foolish.

Kin.

He is beholding to you— How now—

Enter Mes∣senger.

Mess.

The Lord Albertus, Sir, is fled As soon as he came from your Majesty, He instantly took Horse.

Kin.

He was in haste—Symathocles—

Sym.

Sir.

Kin.

Gather the Forces in a readinesse That were to meet my daughter, then wait For further Orders.

Sym.

I shall, Sir.

[Exit Syma.

Kin.

Your pardon, fair Maid, that I seem'd so to forget you; It onely was my care, you shall have justice And should have had without an Advocate, Your beauty though's a great one.

Amio.

The gods preserve your Majesty, with your years May peace still grow, that give it unto others, Till you shall go to have eternall rest.

Kin.

Thanks, gentle Maid, the rich Arabian Fumes Are not so sweet to the delighted gods, As thy calm prayers from thy harmlesse breast. Come hither, Mirramente, I have not been At leisure yet to bid thee kindly welcom.

Prin.

Pardon me, Sir, that I must once again

Trouble your ears, nor think too lightly, Sir, Of my request, it is the child of gratitude. I would in person, Sir, relieve Him, that has suffer'd for my sake, And in my sight contemn'd.

Kin.

Symathocles, would you not take it ill To have a Generall put o're your head?

Sym.

Not, if it may serve you, Sir.

Kin.

Look here, Symathocles, this Amazon has begg'd it.

Sym.

She does the better, Sir, if there be danger From her fair name we all shall fight in safety.

Kin.

Well, take your course, on more intelligence Move as you please.

[Exit King.

Sym.

Excellent Princesse, —How happy I am now to be your Soldier, Let those be judge that would be sure of victory. So fair a Cause fought by so fair a Generall, —Can never be forsaken By Victory or Fortune—

Prin.

I thank you, Sir, nor can I think my self Lesse happy in so brave a Soldier; if you please For to dispatch before for some intelligence, Wee'l instantly away.

Sym.

With all speed, Madam.

[Exit Syma.

Manent Princess & Amione.

Amio.

Excellent Princesse; Which way to tell you all my heart returns I know not, the gods in blessings thank you, Who still assist the innocent and mean,

Because they made them so;

Prin.

I thank you gentle Maid, from hence my friend, You cannot cheat my confidence, you'l deserve it, So does your Brother all my best assistance, I reckon it my happinesse, to procure Your joyes and safety; that I may then Have mine more perfect.

Amio.

Now all the powers defend, they should not be: You never sure broke yet an houres repose With a dis••urbing dream; in that calme harbour, All thoughts have been secur'd from storm, May they be ever so.—

Prin.

Thy brother's cause deserves as much as that. —A thousand blushes stop me,—

[aside.

Besides thou mayest be much deceived: the ship-wrack past, The calmest waters may conceal the fate, As well as the insulting waves,

Amione weeps.

—Why do••st thou weep.—

Amio.

To hear, you have been sad, O Madam, ••ardon me, to say an undiscerned power Ioynes my affliction to your grief; Forgive me that, I cannot chuse but dare, To accompany you in any thing. There's something tells me, that I ought to love you More then the world does, yet that's very much.

Prin.

When I first saw thee, dearest maid, I could have sworn as much, And yet thou didst not please me then, Come, I shall disturb thee, 'tis an unkindnesse

Not to be pardon'd, to let thee share my griefs;

Amio.

Now you afflict me more: Is there a way, To be a friend and stranger to your breast, Though 'tis ambition, to be an humble one? 'Tis vertue, not your greatnesse crowns my wishes, And I shall fear, that you will think me only A friend to that, or else not worth the other.

Prin.

I do not doubt thy Love, the story will Disturb me, when I tell it, perhaps thee, And yet it must return to me unhelpt.

Amio.

How do you know? the meanest thing in nature, May bring an unexpected aid; Gyants that passe, And lets the obstacles alone, do lesse Then dwarfs that do remove them: as they are Shut in your breast, fed with that pretious food, How can they ever starve? they may at last Consume your stock of joyes, he does like you, That would defend, within a fair built Fort, His enemies against his pressing friends And patiently destroyed by those he saved, If you believe me worthy, the gods have then Finish't their parts; for they decreed us most To one anothers aid: So to encrease Our joyes that way, and lessen all our cares, For still imparted comforts do increase, And grief divided to a friend grows lesse, Our natures too are like o'rec••arged springs, Willing to vent themselves, and so are you, Had I but as much worth, as you have trouble.

Prin.

I am not proof against thy perfect kindnesse,

I will keep nothing from thee, but be sure You quickly understand me, my blushes too Will tell t••ee half the storie, what dos't guesse?

Amio.

That you should have no cares—

Prin.

Can love have any?

Amio.

What in this world shall ever be so happy? I hope it is not that—

Prin.

And why?

Amio.

A thousand times I have heard my brother pray That day might never be, I wish as he does too.

Prin.

Your Brother would not have me then? —How innocent she is!—

[aside.

Amio.

He thinks it were unreasonable That one alone should make the world unhappy. Weighing their own misfortunes from his joy's I hope it is not that:

Prin.

'Tis that I swear. Love has caused all my trouble, And if thy brother thinks me such a blessing Why doth not he then wish it?

Amio.

Alas he dares not welcome such a thought He onely dares to wish none else should have you; But who must be so happy?

Prin.

Your Brother.

Amio.

Madam?

Prin.

Wonder no more, I could have told When I first saw thee that me-thought I lov'd thee As I would do a sister; yet I was jealous too: Nay I shall blush, as much as thou canst wonder, Yet he deserves my Love; sure you did then

Read a confusion in me; and I am still, Disorderd by my fears;

Amio.

O Madam,— —Pardon me to say the gods have justly so Decreed that it should be: for I have heard Him sit and please himself with stories of you, Till he has made his griefs too monstrous, And I thought then too prodigall of comfort, Yet now I think't was all but due to you; And though I am turnd of his religion too And can think nothing superstition in't, Yet you may spare the sacrifice.

Prin.

Sweetest maid, I have some reason to believe he loves me, He cannot sure dissemble; Wert thou ne're yet in love?

Amio.

Never;

Prin.

Pray that thou never mayst, or that it ne're Have fears for it's Companions, night will wear Disturbing blacknesse and not quiet shades, The light will be too cheerfull, whilst you fare Like an impatient Sea-man that would fain Attain the Port, the gentlest calm Makes mad, and crossing storms disturbs But from our own experience thus we raise Advices that are chid and and scorn'd by Fate Who oftnest sends what we least wish, and makes What we most covet most unfortunate: But now to his relief, for time Persues his course with an impartiall haste And my revenge must sit upon his wings.

You Powers above what now is just assist: Their thoughts were poor, that trifled time and wisht.

[Exeunt.