The Abdicated prince, or, The adventures of four years a tragi-comedy, as it was lately acted at the court at Alba Regalis by several persons of great quality.

ACT. V.

Scene I.

The Scene opens and discovers Cullidada alone, leaning pensively on a Table, and endeavouring to raise himself; he is in a moment environed with a great Company of Ghosts, which rise out of the Ground, and point severally at him, shaking their Heads at one another. The first is that of the Sieur Godferus, sometime one of the Tribunes of the People of Hungary, his Head seems to dangle from one side to the other, as if his Neck were broken, and has his own Sword sticking through him as he nods to the opposite Ghost, which is that of Columona, who holds; out to the King the end of a Rope, which is fastened about his Neck. The next is Monsieur Stephano de la Colledge, with a Halter about his Neck. The next is the Count de Esseycke, who points to his Throat, which is cut so deep, that his Head seems ready to fall off. The next are the Lord Rossellio, and the Sieur le Sydeny, who have two Golden Rings about their Necks, by which their Heads seem to be

fastened to their Bodies. The next is the Ghost of the Sieur del Aramstrough, with an Halter about his Neck, and an Ax in his hand. The next is the Burgomaster Coronise, with an Halter in his hand. In the midst of all is the Ghost of the Prince Philodemy, Duke of Monumora, who has also a Golden Ring round his Neck, and a Crown seems to hang over him some small distance from his Head. After two or three horrid Flashes of Lightning and Claps of Thunder, the Ghost of Godferus speaks:

Ghost of Godf.

SEE, Cruel Prince, thy Trade of Cruelty, Which was first practis'd and begun on me:

The Ghost points round to the rest.

Love to my Country, and the Kingdoms Peace, (Which sure deserves reward, at least should please,) Made me, Oh! Strange Ingratitude! incur Thy Cruel Rage— 'Tis true, with zealous Industry I ran And trac'd the bloody Steps of thy Mysterious Babylon: There was my Crime; And here my Punishment: Nor is thine far behind. Repent, Repent;

[Pointing to his Neck.

Thy Fate's determin'd, and the Time draws on: Thy Crown (by Fratricide obtain'd) is gone; Thy Life's inglorious, troublesome and short, To Friends a Burden, to thy Foes a Sport.

Ghost of Col.

Ah! my ungrateful Master, are you here? Your cheated Secretary does appear, Partly to chide your black Ingratitude, That could so easily betray my Blood; But chiefly to inform you, you mistake, If for a Saint you Columena take. Believe me, Sir, (and Spirits seldom lie) You are your self as much a Saint as I. Ah, much more likely 'tis, you may be one, Since Providence permits your Glass to run, And gives you time to think, and mend your Errors; (For after Death you cannot plead Demurrers.) Ah! Think in time then, and repent your Evil, Or else by Mahomet, you'll be a Devil.

Oh! Roguey Priests! How often they repeatrd; If I'd conceal, how well I should be treated? If you'll believe them, you'll like me be cheated.

Ghost of Step. Col.

By perjur'd Tongues, suborn'd and brib'd by thee, I fell the Victim of thy Cruelty, No Age, nor Sex, nor Quality was free From the base Insults of thy Tyranny. Through all Degrees of Wickedness thou'st gone, Through all the murth'ring Arts of cursed Babylon: Nor Prince, nor Peasant, Lords nor Commons stood Free from thy cruel Thirst of shedding Blood. Thy Friends scarce pity thee, thy Foes despise; And Heaven, who sees the Justice of our Cries, Has curst thee— Thy Fate's determin'd in the Eternal Roll, Thou shalt with Speed and Ignominy fall: All that thy cruel Subtilty has done, Shall in the compass of one short liv'd Sun, Be lost, unravell'd, spurn'd and trod upon.

Ghost of Ess.

Unhappy Prince! by what blind Fury led, Dost thou delight these Paths of Blood to tread? Does thy insatiate Moloch still require More of thy Sons to pass the fatal Fire? Does thy strange Principles and Zeal o'rethrow All ties of Blood, of Vertue, and of Law? Will not the Father, King, nor Friend controul The wild Excesses of thy boundless Soul? Ah! Prince look back, see what a Multitude

[The King looks back affrighted.

Of pale-fac'd threatning Ghosts about thee croud, All earnest Suppliants at th' Heavenly Throne For Vengeance on thy Guilty Head alone; And they've obtain'd; thy Fate is written there, And soon thoul't find it executed here.

Ghost of Rossel.

Pity, a Stranger to thy Savage Soul, Does yet my just Resentments so controul, That at the Throne of Grace I am become A Suppliant to reverse thy fearful Doom.

But oh! thy unrelenting Soul denies Even Pity to thy self, nay, and defies, Like hardned Rebels, all just Terms of Peace; Thou wouldst not bid one Tear for thy Eternal Ease. Hear therefore what the Fates have now ordain'd, Thy Crown is lost, thy Fame for ever stain'd: A Prince for God-like Qualities renown'd Shall raise the Groveling Kingdom from the Ground And stop the Torrent of its bleeding Wounds, In base Disguise thou shalt obscurely fly Be made the sport of every common Eye, And dwindle a short tedious Life in Misery.

As soon as the Ghost of Lord Rosselio has done speaking, all the rest of the Ghosts clap their hands aloud, and pointing and laughing at Cullydada, they dance round him: Only the Ghost of Monumora seems pensive, and shakes his head in a lamenting manner, which the King takes much notice of; and in a trembling manner ventures to come a little towards him, and speaks:

King.

By that Divine and Glorious Form, I guess If Ghosts may carry Names, thou art Monumora, The Valiant Son of my most Royal Brother.

[The Ghost nods in token of assent.

Thou seem'st to carry on that solid Brow More of calm Sorrow than of just Revenge: Good Heavens! He seems to weep! his shaking Head Seems to lament the Misery that waits me. Speak, Holy Shade, canst thou forgive the Wrongs Which cruel Policy of State, and sordid Fear, Prompted by bloody Importunites, Of an imperious Wife, and Crafty Priest, Made me commit?

Ghost.

Repent, and I forgive.

K.

[Sighs and groans heavily]

This is the first time my hardned Heart E're melted with Remorse: Oh! the sharp Sting Of a Relenting Guilty Conscience! Dear Shade, accept my just unfeigned Sorrow (The only Recompense I now can make)

Thy undeserved goodness has o'recome me, And I am now all over Penitence: Oh! that I could reverse the Book of Fate, And re-instate thee on the Earth again; Methinks 'twould ease me of a Load of Sin, If to my troubled Conscience I could plead Not Guilty of the Death of Monumora

Ghost.

Repent, and I forgive.

[He is going.]

K.

Stay, Sacred Shade, and since thy Goodness can With so much ease forgive; let me prevail From thy Divine Intelligence, to learn The utmost of that Fate that threatens me.

The Ghost is just going to speak, and the Cock Crows, at which they start, and shaking their Heads at Cullydada, they Vanish.

Enter Messenger.

Mess.

Sir, I was hither from the Low-Lands sent With Letters to your Sacred Majesty.

[He gives the Letters, and the K. Reads, he starts and stamps.

K.

Five Hundred Sail! and Forty Thousand Men! And ready just to Sail: Did you see any?

Mess.

'Tis too true, my Liege, 'twas whisper'd there, They'd Sayl the Morning Tyde.

K.

And is it certain That they design to Invade our Kingdom here?

Mess.

At first the Rumours were so various, We could not fix on any Certainty; But 'tis no longer now a Secret made, That they design their Course for Hungary.

[Exit Mess.

K.

[muses]

This unexpected Storm does more confound me, Than all the threatning Dangers of my Life. Five Hundred Sail of Ships! 'tis wonderful, Mann'd, Victual'd, Fix'd, and ready to Hoise Sayl, And all with such profound strange Privacy! It seems to carry fatal Omens with it, Since Providence already seems to fide with them: Sure my Prophetick Ghosts could never mean To spur my eager Fate so quickly on:

And I design'd, if time had been allow'd, T' have taken all effectual humane means To baffle their pretended Fate— If Shoals of Gallick Friends and bold Hiberians Could have perform'd what I so long design'd, They should have swarm'd in all their Christian Hives, And turn'd their murmuring Hosts a grazing: But still I'll not despair. Industrious Wisdom often does prevent What lazy Folly thinks inevitable: Big swelling Clouds are by the Winds blown o're, And threatning storms may dwindle into Showres.

[Exit King.

ACT. V. Scene II. The Mosque at the Palace of St. Jacques.

The Scene draws and discovers Barbarossa, Pietro, and several Pagan Priests and Jebusites in Consultation.

Enter Remarquo.

Rem.

This News has struck 'em all dumb; you can see nothing at Court but a Company of moving Statues; the Christians whi∣sper indeed, but the Pagans shake their Heads, as Physitians do when they give a Man over; and the King runs to and fro as if he were pursu'd by a Spirit or Goblin. I wonder where the good natur'd Pietro, and the Generons Barbarossa are, I have not seen them at Alba Regalis all this Evening; I'll warrant you, one is con∣sulting the good of the Christians Souls, as the other did of their Bodies in the West, and are as calm in their Consciences as the meek suffering Martyrs; and as little disturb'd at the News, as a Hare at the first opening of the Kennel. Well, I'll go in and visit some of their Active Brethren, who at this time now are wonderful busie in forging false Reports, to scatter amongst the People. Had who have we yonder? Oh there's

[He is going forward.]

the Jebusites private Cabal; now they are preparing business to be offer'd in Council; a Company of true State-Tinkers, who under the pretence of mending one Fault, make twenty. Well, I must

be incognito; I'll stand up here and listen, I may edifie upon it per∣haps.

Pie.

We have no time, Gentlemen, to make long Speeches: let us each offer our Sentiments, and from thence we'll pick out mat∣ter for the fittest Proposals to be made to Cullydada.

1 Jeb.

What are the Heads of the Prince Lysander's Declaration?

Bar.

I am afraid the Reverend Pietro's and mine are two of them.

Rem.

Ay, And I hope he'll have better hold of them, that in his Declaration.

[aside.

2 Jeb.

Does our Danger proceed from the Person of the Prince?

Pie.

Oh! He's the Primum Mobile of the Faction.

2 Jeb.

Why then can we want a Zealous Brother, that will ven∣ture to give him a gentle touch under the Fifth Rib? 'Tis the way of the Pagans, and according to the Instructions of Mother-Church.

Pie.

I confess 'tis lawful, but not at this time seasonable; we must use Lenitives yet a while; we may have a time yet.

Rem.

Yes, yes; I may see them all take their turns in good time.

[aside.

Bar.

The Plaguy Christian Nobles advise the King forthwith to call the Sanhedrim.

[They all start at the Word.

Rem.

Oh! how they wince at the very name of it?

[aside.

Omnes.

Vdsbud, a Sanhedrim! Why, the very thought of one's as dreadful as the sight of a Death's Head, and there's a Me∣mento mori to us included in the very Words.

Pie.

Alack, my Breath smells of Hemp ever since you mention'd it: Why, prithee what was our business here for these many long years, but to stave off Sanhedrims, unless now and then to let them come together for matter of Form, and to fill the Kings Coffers, which we always made sure to employ against themselves.

Bar.

Nay, I had as lief take a Lion by the Paw, as look a House of Commons in the Face, they have such a plaguy way of making a Man dancing the Somerset before 'em, and turning him inside out∣ward: I should not be my self again while I liv'd.

Rem.

Nay, o'my Conscience, there must be a great dearth of Hal∣ters, here, if you liv'd long after.

aside

Jeb.

But how do the People behave themselves?

Rem.

Ay, there's the sting.

aside

Pie.

Why to be plain, As Malefactors at the Gallows, when they. see a Reprieve come, an unusual blithness in the face of the better sortst and an insulting boldness in the Rabble: I walkt the Streets last Night in Disguise, on purpose to hear their Sentiments, where you should see at every other Door private Caballers and publick Muti∣neers: At one place they stop'd me, and made me Drink Confusion to Pietro, and his Holy Colleague the Chancellor: at another I saw a company of Boys were busie in twisting of Wattles I ask'd what they were for? They presently return'd, to hang the Iebusites to∣gether, and make a present of them to the Prince Lisander: Now this is our Distemper, Brother Barbarossa, what do you prescribe?

Bar.

Why, I am at a stand; I have a plaguy Crick in my Neck of a suddain, and that's very ominous. Oh, that I had but two or three State Days in the West again! Oh, 'twould be an infallible remedy.

R.

Nay, your Worship need not doubt of making one Holy-day before you dye yet.

aside.

Enter Messenger.

Mess.

My Lord the King sends for you both with all speed.

Bar.

What's the News prithee?

Mess.

The Prince Lysander is landed in the West with a formida∣ble Army, and the Country pour in like Hail to him; some of the King's Troops have already entirely joyn'd him, and all the people declare unanimously for him.

B.

Oh poor Chancellor!

P.

Ah-poor Pietro!

They run off, clapping and wringing their Hands.

Scene III. Alba Regalis.

Enter Queen tearing her Hair, and wringing her Hands, with Dada∣more the Nurse with the pretended Prince; and Mazato, Syco∣phante, and Remarquo at a distance.

Qu.

Oh Villains! Rebels! Traytors! thus to betray their King and me. Are these their Christian Principles? Foh!

she spits.

Rem.

Why, there's the business: these ill-natur'd Christians. Out upon 'em, that two or three Millions of Souls should so una∣nimously conspire to save their ancient dear bought Laws from being subverted, their Religion from being violated, and their Throats from being Cut, when her Majesty had such a longing desire for it. Indeed it was ill manners.

Qu.

Oh, if Barbarossa and the General had followed Pietro's advice and mine, they should not have left either Hive or Bee in that cursed West.

Rem.

Ay, but the Soldiers are wiser now; for to save shedding of Blood, they are all gone over to one side.

aside.

Dad.

Dear Hautefelia, do not so immoderately grieve, but think thy loving Dadamore shall still supply all that envious For∣tune can take from thee.

Qu.

Dear Dadamore, I must confess thou art the prop and stay of all my hopes; but—

Enter Messenger.

Speak; What's the News? make no preamble, be plain and short.

Mess.

The King sends word his Army is revolted; his very Friends, Relations, all are gone, and he's returning with all speed for fear of being surprized by the Enemy.

Qu.

Oh! Tortures, Plagues and Curses seize them: Come, come my Friends, for you must share my Fate.

Mess.

Alack, if I should lose my Tommy now in this hurly burly!

aside: she howles.

Manet Remarq. Solus.

Exit Qu. cum suis

Rem.

Oh the hard Hearts of People grown in Sin! She's sensible of the Plague that follows her, But thinks not of the cause: her Coward Soul (Essential to the wicked) now can pine and howl At the apprehension of due punishment; But with unimitable boldness she Could run through all the dreadful Catalogue Of hainous Sins, without a doubt or scruple. Nay she does yet even refuse to own, Or to repent her Crimes against the Nation. Her Crown, her State, her Grandeur, are the things That cause her Tears and Curses; but better far Some watry drops from her should singly go, Than Streams of Blood shou'd from the Nations flow.

Exit Rem.

Enter King, Pietro, Barbarossa, Philanax, Messenger.

King.

Does he design so suddenly to come?

Mess.

Some of his Troops will quarter here to night.

King

pawses a while.

I'le answer all by a Messenger of mine.

Exit Mess.

King.

Well my Friends, you see how Fate and Time press me? I have told you my designs, and this Night resolve to put them in execution: the Queen and Child are safe gone off; and Pietro she has left her Casket of Jewels to your care and charge.

Pie.

I'le be her faithful Carrier: humh! the Iewels to my charge! Nay, there's a little comfort then; I find I shall not go empty handed. Yes, yes, I shall take care of them.

aside

King.

It begins to grow late, we must separate: Well my good Friends, farewel; we may meet again.

Ex. K. Bar. Pie.

Enter Rabble; with Links and Staves, shouting and hollowing.

1 Rab.

Come, come, away Boys, away; the King has slip'd away, but we'll claw his Pagans off.

2 Rab.

Ay, ay, let's pull down their Houses; they have abun∣dance

of Crosses and Beads in them: Oh I hate Crosses; there's none but Heathens love Crosses.

3 Rab.

Ay let's pull down Count—what de call'ems house; Oh he's a devilish Pagan, there's abundance of Gold and Money there.

4 Rab.

Nay, then it deserves to be pull'd down: I'le warrant you they worship it there.

5 Rab.

Ay, and there's Goodman Fangum, he's a Plaguy Fellow; Iowe him for two Suits of Cloaths indeed, but he rayl'd so sadly against Prince Lysander, that I have no mind to pay him.

6 Rab.

Come, come, we will lay down our Lives for the Christi∣an Religion, and so 'tis unreasonable these Pagans should have such a deal of Money; come, away Boys, away.

Enter Pietro disguis'd, like a Tinker with a Budget at his Back.

1 Rab.

So honest Brother, come along with us, Efack you shall have Brass enough to mend.

Pie

Ay, Ay, come away, God bless the Christian Religion, and hang the Pagans: Omnes, Amen, Amen.

2 Rab.

Come along Old Bay, we'll make thee for ever.

Pie.

O' my Conscience they'll make me out of my Wits, if they keep me much longer.

aside.

3 Rab.

Come old Boy, throw away that Budget; thou shalt have a purse full of Brass and Iron.

Pie

No, hang it, I'll keep it because 'twas my Fathers: Uds-be as black as the Case appears, there's a heavenly lustre within. O my Heart akes for my Jewels.

7 Rab.

Oh! I love this gutting of Houses dearly, my Father was brought up to the Trade.

8 Rab.

I had a Brother liv'd and dy'd in't.

9 Rab.

Ay Tom, I remember him very well, I saw him cut down.

10 Rab.

Away, away Boys; holloo, holloo.

They shout, and go off with Pie.

Enter Guard, with Barbarossa in a Tarpawlins Disguise, follow'd by the Rabble.

Bar.

For Heavens sake Sir's, keep me from the Mob; and do else what you please with me.

1 Rab.

Do you hear, the Villain abuses us, he calls us plain Mob, without an M. to it.

2 Rab.

Ay, ay, a Rogue, he hang'd my Brother in the W•••• without ever a Letter in the whole Criss Cross Row; He would not let him speak one word or tittle for himself.

3 Rab.

Hey day! why is this the Chancellor? Why he look as if he had been at Sea.

4 Rab.

No, he looks as if he would have been at Sea; but hang him, he was never born to be drown'd.

5 Rab.

Why here's a strange alteration; here's the Judge turn'd Executioner; he's like the Hangman in the West.

6 Rab.

O the Villain, he hang'd my Father for giving a hand∣ful of Hay to one of the Lord of Monumora's Horsemen: Oh his tear him to pieces: Guard stand off there.

Exeunt omnes

Scene IV. The Palace of St. Jacques.

Enter Prince Lyfander, attended with the Nobility and Gentry of Hungary, and Guards in a magnificent manner, with Drums beating, Trumpets sounding, Colours flying, the People shouting and the Guns round the great Tower firing; at which the Stars clear up, the Sun shines, and all the inchanted Pagan Mosques Priests, Jebusites, Crosses, Beads, Quo Warranto's, Dispensa∣tors, Ecclesiastick Commissioners, &c. vanish in a moment.