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 3. SCEN. 5.

Enter Phylanter, Lycespes, Others.

Phyl.

THis is the house sure it should be By the description—How—VVorks thrown up?

All's quiet though; we must be cautious, There may be else some trick in't. —Summon the walls—

Lyc.

VVithin there, ho—ho— Sure they lie buried in security. As confident of power and successe, As if the Destinies slept with them too, And wak't at their command. Let's wake them all—and yet 'tis hard To rouse an innocence to disorder, 'Tis that I fear is their security.

Phyl.

O Lycespes! It is as great a crime (when past) to think Of things ill done, as 'tis unthought to act The ill before; he that does one first cheats himself, The other cousins him: now to be nice Is vain, for us that have been cheated twice.

Lyc.

VVithin there, ho—

Phyl.

They are dead.

Mir.

No, we live, Phylanter,

Mironault, Hyp∣pasus, Lysander, and others, appear above.

And far less fear that fate than you, That have so many crimes to sinck your thoughts. Spare your pains of asking us to yield, VVee'l sooner find the worst of all extremities; Danger will lose its nature when you bring it. —Nay do not stay— In expectation to hear me ask VVhy you have thus unworthily thrown off

The name of Honesty: Some may fall Not worth mens pitty, but their scorn, And so do you.

Phyl.

You'r very high, so let your actions be, Your crimes will need it. But I see words Displease you, you shall have lowder Rhetorick.

Mir.

Fear not, thy basenesse has taught us to un∣derstand That language.

Pys.

You, Lycespes, you Treason-hunter, How, I wonder, did it happen, we did not meet Your storming worship at the gate? Pox on you, you were untrussing a point, The old fighting loosenesse.

Lyc.

You'r merry still Pysander, and very brisk, Are you so well already of your inlets.

Pys.

Hang you, if you bleed as much As a staid man would let out from a witch To save himselfe from enchanting, The Physitians, Pothecaries, and Surgeons Must stand about thee, like Pensioners; If Hyppasus and I, can but get a willing curre, We are lick't whole, a dog's our only Mountebank.

Lyc.

Very well Sir, when I visit you, I'le bring a spaniell in my hand.

Pys.

Hang the couple of currs, say I,

Phy.

Your resolution's heard, I'le urge no more, But leave you to your fates, only thus much, By me the Princesse sends this punishment. The danger now growes bigger sure,—

Mir.

This is mean Phylanter, and you still trifle honesty,

And I time and honour: let the storm come, —And he that seems to fear,

Exeunt above.

May he unpittied fall, without a tear.

Phy.

His Courage still is excellent, great power of love, That made me give so much to her, I left none for my selfe. Lycespes draw round the house, We••'l storm it instantly, dye all you lesser thoughts, That at a distance tell your formall tales, Or else come neerer, and wear noble shapes, The distance makes you mistier, the dice are cast, Th' event will punish or reward what's past,

[Exeunt.