Chapter V: Part 5

_Cla._ They that love this sin, love their security;
Prevention, Madam, is the nail I knock'd at,
And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it,
And you must pardon me, and be silent too,
And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently;
I shall do worse else.

_Cal._ Thou canst not touch my credit:
Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus.

_Clarin._ Do not you stick to truth, she is seldom heard, Madam,
A poor weak tongue she has, and that is hoarse too
With pleading at the bars, none understand[s] her,
Or if you had her, what can she say for ye?
Must she not swear he came at midnight to ye,
The door left open, and your husband cozen'd
With a feign'd sickness?

_Cal._ But by my soul I was honest, thou know'st I was honest.

_Clarin._ That's all one what I know,
What I will testifie is that shall vex ye;
Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods,
And on apparent proof, take heed of that, Madam;
If you were innocent (as it may be ye are)
I do not know, I leave it to your conscience,
It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye,
Men being so willing to believe the worst,
So open eyed in this age to all infamie,
To put your fame in this weak bark to the venture.

_Cal._ What do I suffer! O my precious honour,
Into what box of evils have I lock'd thee!
Yet rather than be thus outbrav'd, and by
My drudg, my footstool, one that sued to be so;
Perish both life, and honour. Devil thus
I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee,
And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee;
Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud?
Out of my house, proclaim all that thou knowest,
Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie
From Hell, and like a furie breath it in
The bosom of my Lord; and to thy utmost
Blast my fair fame, yet thou shalt feel with horror
To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built
On such a firm base, that if e're it can
Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals,
Heaven keeps no guard on innocence. [_Exit._

_Clarin._ I am lost,
In my own hopes forsaken, and must fall
The greatest torment to a guilty woman
Without revenge, till I can fashion it
I must submit, at least appear as if
I did repent, and would offend no farther.
Monsieur _Beronte_ my Lords Brother is
Oblig'd unto me for a private favour;
'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time
And opportunity bids me strike, my wreak
Shall pour it self on her nice chastitie
Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speak me. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Alcidon, _and_ Beronte, _severally._

_Alci._ Ye are opportunely [m]et.

_Ber._ Your countenance expresses hast mixt with some fear.

_Alci._ You'l share with me in both, as soon as you are made
Acquainted with the cause, if you love vertue,
In danger not secure; I have no time
For circumstance, instruct me if _Lisander_
Be in your Brothers house?

_Ber._ Upon my knowledge he is not there.

_Alci._ I am glad on't.

_Ber._ Why good Sir?
(Without offence I speak it) there's no place
In which he is more honour'd, or more safe,
Than with his friend _Cleander._

_Alci._ In your votes
I grant it true, but as it now stands with him,
I can give reason to make satisfaction
For what I speak; you cannot but remember
The ancient difference between _Lisander_
And _Cloridon_, a man in grace at Court?

_Ber._ I do; and the foul plot of _Cloridons_ kinsman
Upon _Lisanders_ life, for a fall given to _Cloridon_
'Fore the King, as they encountred at a solemn tilting.

_Alci._ It is now reveng'd:
In brief, a challenge was brought to _Lisander_
By one _Chrysant_[_h_]_es_; and as far as valour
Would give him leave, declin'd by bold _Lisander_:
But peace refus'd, and braves on braves heap'd on him,
Alone he met the opposites, ending the quarrel
With both their lives.

_Ber._ I am truly sorry for't.

_Alci._ The King incensed for his favorites death,
Hath set a price upon _Lisanders_ head,
As a reward to any man that brings it
Alive, or dead; to gain this, every where
He is pursu'd, and laid for; and the friendship
Between him and your noble Brother known,
His house in reason cannot pass unsearcht,
And that's the principal cause that drew me hither,
To hasten his remove, if he had chosen
This Castle for his sanctuary.

_Ber._ 'Twas done nobly,
And you most welcom; this night pray you take
A lodging with us; and at my intreaty
Conceal this from my Brother, he is grown
Exceeding sad of late; and the hard fortune
Of one he values at so high a rate,
Will much encrease his melancholy.

_Alci._ I am tutor'd: pray you lead the way.

_Ber._ To serve you I will shew it. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Cleander, _with a Book._

_Cle._ Nothing more certain than to dye, but when
Is most uncertain: if so, every hour
We should prepare us for the journey, which
Is not to be put off, I must submit
To the divine decree, not argue it,
And chearfully I welcom it: I have
Dispos'd of my estate, confess'd my sins,
And have remission from my Ghost[l]y Father,
Being at peace too here: the apparition
Proceeded not from fancy, _Dorilaus_
Saw it, and heard it with me, it made answer
To our demands, and promis'd, if 'twere not
Deny'd to him by fate, he would forewarn me
Of my approaching end, I feel no symptome
Of sickness, yet I know not how a dulness
Invades me all over. Ha?

_Enter_ Host.

_Host._ I come Sir,
To keep my promise; and as far as spirits
Are sensible of sorrow for the living,
I grieve to be the messenger to tell you,
E're many hours pass, you must resolve
To fill a grave.

_Cle._ And feast the worms?

_Host._ Even so Sir.

_Clea._ I hear it like a man.

_Host._ It well becomes you, there's no evading it.

_Cle._ Can you discover by whose means I must dye?

_Host._ That is deny'd me:
But my prediction is too sure; prepare
To make your peace with heaven. So farewel Sir. [_Ex._

_Cle._ I see no enemy near; and yet I tremble
Like a pale coward: my sad doom pronounc'd
By this aerial voice, as in a glass
Shews me my death in its most dreadfull shape.
What rampire can my humane frailty raise
Against the assault of fate? I do begin
To fear my self, my inward strengths forsake me,
I must call out for help. Within there? haste,
And break in to my rescue.

_Enter_ Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda, Beronte, Alcidon,
_Servants, and_ Clarinda, _at several doors._

_Dor._ Rescue? where? shew me your danger.

_Cal._ I will interpose
My loyall breast between you and all hazard.

_Ber._ Your Brothers Sword secures you.

_Alci._ A true friend will dye in your defence.

_Clean._ I thank ye,
To all my thanks. Encompass'd thus with friends
How can I fear? and yet I do, I am wounded,
Mortally wounded: nay it is within,
I am hurt in my minde: One word--

_Dor._ A thousand.

_Cle._ I shall not live to speak so many to you.

_Dor._ Why? what forbids you?

_Cle._ But even now the spirit
Of my dead Host appear'd, and told me, that
This night I should be with him: did you not meet it?
It went out at that door.

_Dor._ A vain _Chimera_
Of your imagination: can you think
Mine Host would not as well have spoke to me now,
As he did in the Inn? these waking dreams
Not alone trouble you, but strike a strange
Distraction in your Family: see the tears
Of my poor Daughter, fair _Olinda's_ sadness,
Your Brothers, and your friends grief, servants sorrow.
Good Son bear up, you have many years to live
A comfort to us all: let's in to supper;
Ghosts never walk till after mid-night, if
I may believe my Grannam. We will wash
These thoughts away with Wine, spight of Hobgoblins.

_Cle._ You reprehend me justly: gentle Madam,
And all the rest, forgive me, I'le endeavour
To be merry with you.

_Dor._ That's well said.

_Beron._ I have procur'd your pardon.

_Cal._ Once more I receive you
Into my service: but take especial care
You fall no further.

_Clar._ Never Madam: Sir,
When you shall find fit time to call me to it,
I will make good what I have said.

_Ber._ Till when, upon your life be silent.

_Dor._ We will have a health unto _Lisander._

_Cle._ His name, Sir,
Somewhat revives me; but his sight would cure me.
How ever let's to supper.

_Olin._ Would _Clarange_
And _Lidian_ were here too, as they should be,
If wishes cou'd prevail.

_Cal._ They are fruitless, Madam. [_Ex._

_Enter_ Leon.

_Leon._ If that report speak truth, _Clarinda_ is
Discharg'd her Ladies service, and what burthen
I then have drawn upon me is apparent,
The crop she reapt from her attendance was
Her best Revenue, and my principal means
_Clarinda_'_s_ bounty, though I labour'd hard for't,
A younger Brother's fortune: must I now
Have soure sawce after sweet meats? and be driv'n
To leavie half a Crown a week, besides
Clouts, Sope, and Candles, for my heir Apparent,
If she prove, as she swears she is with child;
Such as live this way, find like me, though wenching
Hath a fair face, there's a Dragon in the tail of't
That stings to th' quick. I must skulk here, until
I am resolv'd: how my heart pants between
My hopes and fears! she's come; are we in the Port?
If not, let's sink together.

_Enter_ Clarinda.

_Clar._ Things go better
Than you deserve; you carry things so openly,
I must bear every way, I am once more
In my Ladies grace.

_Leon._ And I in yours.

_Clar._ It may be; but I have sworn unto my Lady never
To sin again.

_Leon._ To be surpriz'd--the sin
Is in it self excusable; to be taken
Is a crime, as the Poet writes.

_Clar._ You know my weakness,
And that makes you so confident. You have got
A fair sword; was it not _Lisanders_?

_Leon._ Yes Wench,
And I grown valiant by the wearing of it:
It hath been the death of two. With this _Lisander_
Slew _Clor_[_id_]_on_, and _Chrysanthes_. I took it up,
Broken in the handle, but that is reform'd,
And now in my possession; the late Master
Dares never come to challenge it: this sword,
And all the weapons that I have, are ever
Devoted to thy service: Shall we bill?
I am very gamesome.

_Clar._ I must first dispose of
The fool _Malfort_; he hath smoak'd you, and is not,
But by some new device to be kept from me:
I have it here shall fit him: you know where
You must expect me, with all possible silence
Get thither.

_Leon._ You will follow?

_Clar._ Will I live?
She that is forfeited to lust must dye,
That humour being unfed; begone, here comes [_Exit_ Le.

_Enter_ Malfort _in Armour._

My champion in Armour.

_Malf._ What adventure
I am bound upon I know not, but it is
My Mistresses pleasure that I should appear thus.
I may perhaps be terrible to others,
But as I am, I am sure my shadow frights me,
The clashing of my Armour in my ears,
Sounds like a passing-bell; and my Buckler, puts me
In mind of a Bier; this my broad Sword a pick-axe
To dig my grave: O love, abominable love,
What Monsters issue from thy dismal den,
_Clarinda's_ placket, which I must encounter,
Or never hope to enter?

_Clar._ Here's a Knight errant, Monsieur _Malfort_.

_Malf._ Stand, stand, or I'le fall for ye.

_Clar._ Know ye not my voice?

_Malf._ Yes, 'twas at that I trembl'd.
But were my false friend _Leon_ here--

_Clar._ 'Tis he.

_Malf._ Where? where?

_Clar._ He is not come yet.

_Malf._ 'Tis well for him,
I am so full of wrath.

_Clar._ Or fear--This _Leon_,
How e're my Kinsman, hath abus'd you grosly,
And this night vowes to take me hence perforce,
And marry me to another: 'twas for this,
(Presuming on your love) I did entreat you
To put your armour on, that with more safety
You might defend me.

_Mal._ And I'le do it bravely.

_Clar._ You must stand here to beat him off, and suffer
No humane thing to pass you, though it appear
In my Lords shape, or Ladies: be not cozen'd
With a disguise.

_Mal._ I have been fool'd already, but now I am wise.

_Clar._ You must swear not to stir hence.

_Mal._ Upon these lips.

_Clar._ Nor move untill I call you?

_Mal._ I'le grow here rather.

_Clar._ This nights task well ended,
I am yours to morrow. Keep sure guard. [_Exit_ Clar.

_Malf._ Adieu;
My honey-comb how sweet thou art, did not
A nest of Hornets keep it! what impossibilities
Love makes me undertake! I know my self
A natural Coward, and should _Leon_ come,
Though this were Cannon proof, I should deliver
The wench before he ask'd her. I hear some footing:
'Tis he; where shall I hide my self? that is
My best defence.

_Enter_ Cleander.

_Cle._ I cannot sleep, strange visions
Make this poor life, I fear'd of late to lose,
A toy that I grow weary of.

_Malf._ 'Tis _Leon_.

_Cle._ What's that?

_Malf._ If you are come, Sir, for _Clarinda_;
I am glad I have her for you; I resign
My interest; you'll find her in her Chamber,
I did stay up to tell you so.

_Clean. Clarinda_, and _Leon_!
There is something more in this
Than I can stay to ask. [_Exit._

_Malf._ What a cold pickle
(And that none of the sweetest) do I find
My poor self in!

_Clean._ [_Speaks within._] Yield villain.

_Enter_ Clarinda _and_ Leon, _running._ Cleander
_following._

_Clar._ 'Tis my Lord,
Shift for your self.

_Leon._ His life
Shall first make answer [_Kills_ Cleander.
For this intrusion.

_Malf._ I am going away,
I am gone already. [_Falls in a swoon._

_Clean._ Heaven take mercy on
My soul; too true presaging Host.

_Clar._ He's dead,
And this wretch little better:
Do you stare upon your
Handy-work?

_Leon._ I am amaz'd.

_Clar._ Get o're the Garden wall, flye for your life,
But leave your sword behind; enquire not why:
I'le fashion something out of it, though I perish,
Shall make way for revenge.

_Leon._ These are the fruits
Of lust, _Clarinda_.

[Sidenote: _Puts the sword in_
Malfort's _hand._]

_Clar._ Hence, repenting Milk-sop. [_Exit_ Leon.
Now 'tis too late. _Lisanders_ sword, I that,
That is the Base I'le build on. So, I'le raise
The house. Help, murther, a most horrid
Murther. Monsieur _Beronte_, noble _Dorilaus_,
All buried in sleep? Aye me a murther,
A most unheard-of murther.

_Enter_ Dorilaus _as from bed._

_Dor._ More lights Knaves;
_Beronte_, _Alcidon_; more lights.

_Enter_ Beronte, Alcidon, _and Servants with lights._

_Clar._ By this I see too much.

_Dor._ My Son _Cleander_ bathing
In his own gore. The Devil, to tell truth, i'th' shape of
An Host!

_Ber._ My Brother?

_Malf._ I have been
I'th' other world, in Hell I think, these Devils
With fire-brands in their paws sent to torment me,
Though I never did the deed, for my lewd purpose
To be a Whore-master.

_Dor._ Who's that?

_Alci._ 'Tis one in Armour. A bloudy sword in his hand.

_Dor. Sans_ question the murtherer.

_Malf._ Who I? you do me wrong,
I never had the heart to kill a Chicken;
Nor do I know this sword.

_Alc._ I do, too well.

_Ber._ I have seen _Lisander_ wear it.

_Clar._ This confirms
What yester-night I whisper'd: let it work,
The circumstance may make it good.

_Malf._ My Lord? and I his murtherer?

_Ber._ Drag the villain hence,
The Rack shall force a free confession from him.

_Malf._ I am struck dumb;
You need not stop my mouth.

_Ber._ Away with him. [_Exit with_ Malfort.

_Enter_ Calista, _and_ Olinda.

_Cal._ Where is my Lord?

_Dor._ All that
Remains of him lies there: look on this object,
And then turn marble.

_Cal._ I am so already,
Made fit to be his Monument: but wherefore
Do you, that have both life and motion left you,
Stand sad spectators of his death.
And not bring forth his murtherer?

_Ber._ That lies in you: you must, and shall produce him.

_Dor._ She, _Beronte_?

_Ber._ None else.

_Dor._ Thou ly'st, I'le prove it on thy head,
Or write it on thy heart.

_Alc._ Forbear, there is
Too much blood shed already.

_Ber._ Let not choler
Stifle your judgment; many an honest Father
Hath got a wicked Daughter. If I prove not
With evident proofs her hand was in the bloud
Of my dear Brother, (too good a Husband for her)
Give your revenge the reins, and spur it forward.

_Dor._ In any circumstance but shew her guilty,
I'le strike the first stroak at her.

_Ber._ Let me ask
A question calmly: do you know this Sword?
Have you not seen _Lisander_ often wear it?

_Dor._ The same with which he rescued me.

_Cal._ I do, what inference from this to make me guilty?

_Ber._ Was he not with you in the house to-night?

_Cal._ No on my soul.

_Ber._ Nor ever heretofore
In private with you, when you feign'd a sickness,
To keep your Husband absent?

_Cal._ Never, Sir, to a dishonest end.

_Ber._ Was not this Woman
Your instrument? her silence does confess it:
Here lyes _Cleander_ dead, and here the sword
Of false _Lisander_, too long cover'd with
A masque of seeming truth.

_Dor._ And is this all
The proof you can alledge? _Lisander_ guilty,
Or my poor Daughter an Adulteress?
Suppose that she had chang'd discourse with one
To whom she ow'd much more?

_Cal._ Thou hast thy ends, wicked _Clarinda_. [_She falls_.

_Oli._ Help, the Lady sinks, malice hath kill'd her.

_Dor._ I would have her live,
Since I dare swear she's innocent: 'tis no time
Or place to argue now: this cause must be
Decided by the Judge; and though a Father,
I will deliver her into the hands
Of Justice. If she prove true gold when try'd,
She's mine: if not, with curses I'le disclaim her:
Take up your part of sorrow, mine shall be
Ready to answer with her life the fact
That she is charg'd with.

_Ber._ Sir, I look upon you as on a Father.

_Dor._ With the eyes of sorrow
I see you as a Brother: let your witnesses
Be ready.

_Ber._ 'Tis my care.

_Alc._ I am for _Lidian_.
This accident no doubt will draw him from
His Hermits life.

_Clar._ Things yet go right, persist, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Lisander, _and_ Lancelot.

_Lisan._ Are the horses dead?

_Lanc._ Out-right. If you ride at this rate,
You must resolve to kill your two a day,
And that's a large proportion.

_Lisan._ Will you please
At any price, and speedily, to get fresh ones.
You know my danger, and the penalty
That follows it, should I be apprehended.
Your duty in obeying my commands,
Will in a better language speak your service,
Than your unnecessary, and untimely care of my expence.

_Lanc._ I am gone, Sir. [_Exit._

_Lisan._ In this thicket
I will expect you: Here yet I have leisure
To call my self unto a strict account
For my pass'd life, how vainly spent: I would
I stood no farther guilty: but I have
A heavier reckoning to make: This hand
Of late as white as innocence, and unspotted,
Now wears a purple colour, dy'd in gore,
My soul of the same tincture; pur-blind passion,
With flattering hopes, would keep me from despair,
Pleading I was provok'd to it; but my reason
Breaking such thin and weak defences, tells me
I have done a double murther; and for what?
Was it in service of the King? his Edicts
Command the contrary: or for my Country?
Her _Genius_, like a mourning mother, answers
In _Cloridon_, and _Chrysanthes_ she hath lost
Two hopeful sons, that might have done their parts,
To guard her from Invasion: for what cause then?
To keep th' opinion of my valour upright,
I'th' popular breath, a sandy ground to build on;
Bought with the Kings displeasure, as the breach
Of Heavens decrees, the loss of my true comforts,
In Parents, Kinsmen, Friends, as the fruition
Of all that I was born to, and that sits
Like to a hill of Lead here, in my exile,
(Never to be repeal'd, if I escape so)
I have cut off all hopes ever to look on

_Enter_ Lidian, _like a Hermite._

Divine _Calista_, from her sight, and converse,
For ever banish'd.

_Lid._ I should know this voice,
His naming too my Sister, whom _Lisander_
Honour'd, but in a noble way, assures me
That it can be no other: I stand bound
To comfort any man I find distress'd:
But to aid him that sav'd my life, Religion
And Thankfulness commands, and it may be
High providence for this good end hath brought him
Into my solitary walk. _Lisander_, noble _Lisander_.

_Lis._ Whatsoe'er thou art,
That honorable attribute thou giv'st me,
I can pretend no right to: come not near me,
I am infectious, the sanctity
Of thy profession (for thou appearest
A reverend _Hermite_) if thou flye not from me,
As from the Plague or Leprosie, cannot keep thee
From being polluted.

_Lid._ With good counsel, Sir,
And holy prayers to boot I may cure you,
Though both wayes so infected. You look wildly,
Peace to your conscience, Sir, and stare upon me,
As if you never saw me: hath my habit
Alter'd my face so much, that yet you know not
Your servant _Lidian_?

_Lis._ I am amaz'd!
So young, and so religious?

_Lid._ I purpose (Heaven make me thankful for't) to leave the world:
I have made some trial of my strengths in this
My solitary life; and yet I find not
A faintness to go on.

_Lis._ Above belief: do you inhabit here?

_Lid._ Mine own free choice, Sir:
I live here poorly, but contentedly,
Because I find enough to feed my fortunes;
Indeed too much: these wild fields are my gardens,
The Crystal Rivers they afford their waters,
And grudge not their sweet streams to quench afflictions;
The hollow rocks their beds, which though they are hard,
(The Emblems of a doting lovers fortune)
Yet they are quiet; and the weary slumbers
The eyes catch there, softer than beds of Down, Friend;
The Birds my Bell to call me to devotions;
My Book the story of my wandring life,
In which I find more hours due to repentance
Than time hath told me yet.

_Lis._ Answer me truly.

_Lid._ I will do that without a conjuration.

_Lis._ I'th' depth of meditation do you not
Sometimes think of _Olinda_?

_Lid._ I endeavour
To raze her from my memory, as I wish
You would do the whole Sex, for know, _Lisander_,
The greatest curse brave man can labour under,
Is the strong Witch-craft of a Womans eyes;
Where I find men I preach this doctrine to 'em:
As you are a Scholar, knowledge make your Mistris,
The hidden beauties of the Heavens your study;
There shall you find fit wonder for your faith,
And for your eye in-imitable objects:
As you are a profess'd souldier, court your honour,
Though she be stern, she is honest, a brave Mistris;
The greater danger you oppose to win her,
She shews the sweeter, and rewards the nobler;
Womans best loves to hers meer shadows be,
For after death she weds your memory.
These are my contemplations.

_Lis._ Heavenly ones;
And in a young man more remarkable.
But wherefore do I envy, and not tread in
This blessed tract? here's in the heart no falshood
To a vow'd friend, no quarrels seconded
With Challenges, which answer'd in defence
Of the word Reputation, murther follows.
A man may here repent his sins, and though
His hand like mine be stain'd in bloud, it may be
With penitence and true contrition wash'd off;
You have prov'd it, _Lidian_.

_Lid._ And you'll find it true, if you persevere.

_Lis._ Here then ends my flight,
And here the fury of the King shall find me
Prepar'd for Heaven, if I am mark'd to dye;
For that I truly grieve for.

_Enter Fryar, and_ Clarange _in Fryars habit._

_Fry._ Keep your self conceal'd, I am instructed.

_Clar._ How the sight
Of my dear friend confirms me.

_Lis._ What are these?

_Lid._ Two reverend Fryers, one I know.

_Fry._ To you
This journey is devoted.

_Lid._ Welcome, Father.

_Fry._ I know your resolution so well grounded,
And your adieu unto the world so constant,
That though I am th' unwilling messenger
Of a strange accident to try your temper,
It cannot shake you. You had once a friend,
A noble friend, _Clarange_.

_Lid._ And have still, I hope, good Father.

_Fry._ Your false hopes deceive you,
He's dead.

_Lis. Clarange_ dead?

_Fry._ I buried him;
Some said he dy'd of melancholy, some of love,
And of that fondness perish'd.

_Lid._ O _Clarange_!

_Clar._ Hast thou so much brave nature, noble _Lidian_,
So tenderly to love thy Rivals memory?
The bold _Lisander_ weeps too.

_Fry._ I expected that you would bear this better.

_Lid._ I am a man, Sir, and my great loss weigh'd duly--

_Fry._ His last words were
After confession, live long, dear _Lidian_,
Possess'd of all thy wishes; and of me
He did desire, bathing my hand with tears,
That with my best care, I should seek, and find you,
And from his dying mouth prevail so with you,
That you a while should leave your Hermits strictness,
And on his Monument pay a tear or two,
To witness how you lov'd him.

_Lid._ O my heart! to witness how I lov'd him? would he had not
Led me into his Grave, but sacrific'd
His sorrows upon mine, he was my friend,
My noble friend, I will bewail his ashes;
His fortunes, and poor mine were born together,
And I will weep 'em both; I will kneel by him,
And on his hallow'd Earth do my last duties.
I'll gather all the pride of Spring to deck him,
Wood-bines shall grow upon his honour'd Grave;
And as they prosper, clasp to shew our friendship,
And when they wither, I'll dye too.

_Clar._ Who would not
Desire to dye, to be bewail'd thus nobly?

_Fry._ There is a Legacy he hath bequeath'd you;
But of what value I must not discover,
Until those Rites and pious Ceremonies
Are duly tender'd.

_Lid._ I am too full of sorrow to be inquisitive.

_Lis._ To think of his,
I do forget mine own woes.

_Enter_ Alcidon.

_Alc._ Graze thy fill, now
Thou hast done thy business; ha! who have we here?
_Lisander, Lidian_, and two Reverend Fryars?
What a strange scene of sorrow is express'd
In different postures, in their looks and station!
A common Painter eying these to help
His dull invention, might draw to the life
The living Sons of _Priam,_ as they stood
On the pale Walls of _Troy_, when _Hector_ fell
Under _Achilles's_ Spear; I come too late,
My Horse, though good and strong, mov'd like a Tortoise;
Ill News had wings, and hath got here before me.
All _Pythagoreans_? not a word?

_Lid._ O _Alcidon_--
Deep Rivers with soft murmurs glide along
The shallow roar; _Clarange!_

_Lis. Cloridon_, _Chrysanthes_, spare my grief, and apprehend
What I should speak.

_Alc._ Their fates I have long since
For your sakes mourn'd; _Clarange's_ death, for so
Your silence doth confirm, till now I heard not;
Are these the bounds that are prescrib'd unto
The swelling seas of sorrow?

_Lis._ The bounds, _Alcidon_?
Can all the winds of mischief, from all Quarters,
_Euphrates_, _Ganges_, _Tigris_, _Volga_, _Po_,
Paying at once their tribute to this Ocean,
Make it swell higher? I am a Murtherer,
Banish'd, proscrib'd, is there ought else that can
Be added to it?

_Lid._ I have lost a friend,
Priz'd dearer than my being, and he dead,
My miseries at the height contemn the worst
Of Fortunes malice.

_Alc._ How our humane weakness,
Grown desperate from small disasters, makes us
Imagine them a period to our sorrows!
When the first syllable of greater woes
Is not yet written.

_Lid._ How?

_Lis._ Speak it at large,
Since grief must break my heart, I am ambitious
It should be exquisite.

_Alc._ It must be told,
Yet ere you hear it, with all care put on
The surest armour anvil'd in the Shop
Of passive fortitude; the good _Cleander_,
Your friend, is murther'd.

_Lis._ 'Tis a terrible pang,
And yet it will not do, I live yet, act not
The Torturers part; if that there be a blow
Beyond this, give it, and at once dispatch me.

_Alc._ Your Sword died in his heart-bloud was found near him,
Your private Conference at mid-night urg'd
With fair _Calista_; which by her whose pure truth,
Would never learn to tell a lie, being granted,
She by enrag'd _Beronte_ is accus'd
Of Murther and Adultery, and you
(However I dare swear it false) concluded
Her principal Agent.

_Lid._ Wave upon wave rowls o'r me.
My Sister? my dear Sister?

_Clar._ Hold, great heart.

_Fry._ Tear open his Doublet.

_Lis._ Is this wound too narrow
For my life to get out at? Bring me to
A Cannon loaded, and some pitying friend
Give fire unto it, while I nail my breast
Unto his thundring mouth, that in the instant,
I may be piece-meal torn, and blown so far,
As not one joint of my dismember'd limbs
May ever be by search of man found out.
_Cleander!_ Yet, why name I him? however
His fall deserv'd an Earth-quake, if compar'd
With what true honour in _Calista_ suffers,
Is of no moment; my good Angel keep me
From Blasphemy, and strike me dumb before,
In th' agony of my spirit, I do accuse
The Powers above, for their unjust permission
Of Vertue, innocent Vertue, to be branded
With the least vicious mark.

_Clar._ I never saw a man so far transported.

_Alc._ Give it way, 'tis now no time to stop it.

_Enter_ Lancelot.

_Lanc._ Sir, I have bought
Fresh horses; and as you respect your life,
Speedily back 'em; the Archers of the Kings guard
Are every where in quest of you.

_Lis._ My life?
Perish all such with thee that wish it longer,
Let it but clear _Calista's_ innocence, [_Strikes_ Lancelot.
And _Nestor's_ Age, to mine was Youth, I'll flye
To meet the rage of my incensed King,
And wish his favourites Ghost appear'd in Flames,
To urge him to revenge; let all the tortures
That Tyranny e're found out circle me,
Provided Justice set _Calista_ free.

[_Exeunt_ Lisander, Alcidon, _and_ Lancelot.

_Alc._ I'll follow him.

_Lid._ I am rooted here.

_Fry._ Remember your dear friends last request, your sisters dangers,
With the aids that you may lend her.

_Lid._ 'Pray you support me,
My Legs deny their Office.

_Clar._ I grow still
Farther engag'd unto his matchless vertues,
And I am dead indeed, until I pay
The debt I owe him in a noble way. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Dorilaus, _and Servant._

_Dor._ Thou hast him safe?

_Serv._ As fast as locks can make him;
He must break through three doors, and cut the throats
Of ten tall fellows, if that he 'scape us;
Besides, as far as I can apprehend,
He hath no such invention, for his looks
Are full of penitence.

_Dor._ Trust not a Knaves look,
They are like a Whores Oaths;
How does my poor Daughter
Brook her restraint?

_Serv._ With such a resolution
As well becomes your Lordships Child. [_Knock within._

_Dor._ Who's that?

_Enter_ Lemure.

_Serv._ Monsieur _Lemure_.

_Dor._ This is a special favour,
And may stand an example in the Court
For courtesie; it is the Clients duty
To wait upon his Patron; you prevent me,
That am your humble Suitor.

_Lem._ My near place
About the King, though it swell others, cannot
Make me forget your worth and Age, which may
Challenge much more respect; and I am sorry
That my endeavours for you have not met with
The good success I wish'd; I mov'd the King
With my best advantage both of time and place,
I'th' favour of your Daughter.

_Dor._ How do you find his Majesty affected?

_Lem._ Not to be
Sway'd from the rigour of the Law; yet so far
The rarity of the Cause hath won upon him,
That he resolves to have in his own person
The hearing of it; her tryal will be noble,
And to my utmost strength, where I may serve her
My aids shall not be wanting.

_Dor._ I am your servant.

_Lem._ One word more; if you love _Lisanders_ life,
Advise him, as he tenders it, to keep
Out of the way; if he be apprehended,
This City cannot ransom him; so good morrow. [_Exit._

_Dor._ All happiness attend you; go thy ways,
Thou hast a clear and noble soul; for thy sake
I'll hold that man mine enemy, who dares mutter,
The Court is not the sphere where vertue moves,
Humanity, and Nobleness waiting on her.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Two Gentlemen (but what they are I know not,
Their faces are so muffl'd) press to see you,
And will not be deny'd.

_Dor._ What e'r they are, I am too old to fear.

_Serv._ They need no Usher, they make their own way.

_Enter_ Lisander, Alcidon.

_Dor._ Take you yours, _Lisander_; [_Exit Servant._
My joy to see you, and my sorrow for
The danger you are in, contend so here,
Though different passions, nay oppos'd in Nature,
I know not which to entertain.

_Lis._ Your hate should win the victory from both, with justice,
You may look on me as a Homicide,
A man whose life is forfeited to the Law,
But if (howe'r I stand accus'd) in thought
I sin'd against _Cleanders_ life, or live
Guilty of the dishonour of your Daughter,
May all the miseries that can fall on man
Here, or hereafter, circle me.

_Dor._ To me this protestation's useless, I embrace you,
As the preserver of my life, the man
To whom my son ows his, with life, his honour,
And howsoever your affection
To my unhappy Daughter, though it were
(For I have sifted her) in a noble way,
Hath printed some taint on her fame, and brought
Her life in question, yet I would not purchase
The wish'd recovery of her reputation,
With strong assurance of her innocence
Before the King her Judge, with certain loss
Of my _Lisander_, for whose life, if found,
There's no redemption; my excess of love,
(Though to enjoy you one short day would lengthen
My life a dozen years) boldly commands me,
Upon my knees, which yet were never bent,
But to the King and Heaven, to entreat you
To flye hence with all possible speed, and leave
_Calista_ to her fortune.

_Lis._ O blessed Saints, forsake her in affliction? can you
Be so unnatural to your own bloud,
To one so well deserving, as to value
My safety before hers? shall innocence
In her be branded, and my guilt escape
Unpunish'd? does she suffer so much for me,
For me unworthy, and shall I decline
(Eating the bitter bread of banishment)
The course of Justice to draw out a life?
(A life? I style it false, a living death)
Which being uncompell'd, laid down will clear her,
And write her name anew in the fair legend
Of the best women? seek not to disswade me,
I will not, like a careless Poet, spoil
The last Act of my Play, till now applauded,
By giving the World just cause to say, I fear'd
Death more than loss of Honour.

_Dor._ But suppose Heaven hath design'd some
Other saving means for her deliverance?

_Lis._ Other means? that is
A mischief above all I have groan'd under;
Shall any other pay my debt, while I
Write my self Bankrupt? or _Calista_ owe
The least beholdingness for that which she
On all the bonds of gratitude I have seal'd to,
May challenge from me to be freely tender'd?
Avert it mercy! I will go to my Grave,
Without the curses of my Creditors;
I'll vindicate her fair name, and so cancel
My obligation to her, to the King,
To whom I stand accountable for the loss
Of two of his lov'd subjects lives, I'll offer
Mine own in satisfaction, to Heaven
I'll pay my true Repentance, to the times,
Present, and future, I'll be register'd
A memorable President to admonish
Others, however valiant, not to trust
To their abilities to dare, and do,
And much less for the airy words of Honour,
And false stamp'd reputation to shake off
The Chains of their Religion and Allegiance,
The principal means appointed to prefer
Societies and Kingdoms. [_Exit._

_Dor._ Let's not leave him; his mind's much troubled.

_Ale._ Were your Daughter free,
Since from her dangers his distraction rises,
His cause is not so desperate for the slaughter
Of _Cloridon_, and _Chrysanthes_, but it may
Find passage to the mercy of the King,
The motives urg'd in his defence, that forc'd him
To act that bloudy Scene.

_Dor._ Heaven can send ayds,
When they are least expected, let us walk,
The hour of tryal draws near.

_Alci._ May it end well. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Olinda, _and_ Lidian.

_Oli._ That for my love you should turn Hermit _Lidian_,
As much amazes me, as your report _Clarange's_ dead.

_Lidi._ He is so, and all comforts
My youth can hope for, Madam, with him buried;
Nor had I ever left my cell, but that
He did injoin me at his death to shed
Some tears of friendship on his Monument,
And those last Rites perform'd, he did [b]equeath you
As the best legacie a friend could give,
Or I indeed could wish to my embraces.

_Oli._ 'Tis still more strange, is there no foul play in it?
I must confess I am not sorry Sir
For your fair fortune; yet 'tis fit I grieve
The most untimely death of such a Gentleman,
He was my worthy Servant.

_Lid._ And for this acknowledgment, if I could prize you at
A higher rate I should, he was my friend:
My dearest friend.

_Oli._ But how should I be assur'd Sir
(For slow belief is the best friend of truth)
Of this Gentlemans death? if I should credit it,
And afterward it fall out contrary,
How am I sham'd? how is your vertue tainted?

_Lid._ There is a Frier that came along with me,
His business to deliver you a Letter
From dead _Clarange_: You shall hear his Testimonie.
Father, my reverend Father, look upon him,
Such holy men are Authors of no Fables.

_Enter_ Clarange, _(with a Letter writ out) and Frier_.

_Oli._ They should not be, their lives and their opinions,
Like brightest purest flames should still burn upwards,
To me Sir? [_delivers the Letter._

_Clar._ If you are the fair _Olinda_--

_Frier._ I do not like these cross points.

_Clar._ Give me leave, I am nearest to my self. What I have plotted
Shall be pursu'd: you must not over-rule me.

_Oli_ Do you put the first hand to your own undoing?
Play to betray your game? Mark but this letter.
Lady I am come to claim your noble promise, [_Reads._
If you be Mistris of your word, ye are mine,
I am last return'd: your riddle is dissolv'd,
And I attend your faith. Your humble servant _Clarange_.
Is this the Frier that saw him dead?

_Lid._ 'Tis he.

_Clarange_ on my life: I am defeated:
Such reverend habits juggle? my true sorrow
For a false friend not worth a tear derided?

_Fri._ You have abus'd my trust.

_Oli._ It is not well, nor like a Gentleman.

_Clar._ All stratagems
In love, and that the sharpest war, are lawfull,
By your example I did change my habit,
Caught you in your own toyle, and triumph in it,
And what by policy's got, I will maintain
With valour, no _Lisander_ shall come in again to fetch you off.

_Lid._ His honour'd name
Pronounc'd by such a treacherous tongue is tainted,
Maintain thy treason with thy sword? With what
Contempt I hear it! in a Wilderness
I durst encounter it, and would, but that
In my retired hours, not counterfeited
As thy religious shape was, I have learn'd
When Justice may determine such a cause,
And of such weight as this fair Lady is,
Must not be put to fortune, I appeal
Unto the King, and he whose wisedom knows
To do his subjects right in their estates,
As graciously with judgement will determine
In points of honour.

_Oli._ I'le steer the same course with you.

_Clar._ I'le stand the tryal.

_Fri._ What have you done? or what intend you?

_Cla._ Ask not; I'le come off with honour. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Beronte, Clarinda, Malfort, _a Bar set forth,_
_Officers._

_Ber._ Be constant in your proofs: should you shrink back now,
Your life must answer it, nor am I safe.
My honour being engag'd to make that good
Which you affirm.

_Clar._ I am confident, so dearly
I honour'd my dead Lord, that no respect,
Or of my Ladies bounties (which were great ones
I must confess) nor of her former life,
For while that she was chast, indeed I lov'd her,
Shall hinder me from lending my assistance
Unto your just revenge--mine own I mean, [_Aside._
If _Leon_ keep far off enough, all's secure:
_Lisander_ dares not come in, modest blushes
Parted with me long since, and impudence
Arm'd with my hate, unto her innocence shall be
The weapon I will fight with now.

_Ber._ The rack
Being presented to you, you'l roar out
What you conceal yet.

_Mal._ Conceal? I know nothing
But that I shall be hang'd, and that I look for,
It is my destiny, I ever had
A hanging look; and a wise woman told me,
Though I had not the heart to do a deed
Worthy the halter, in my youth or age,
I should take a turn with a wry mouth, and now
'Tis come about: I have pen'd mine own ballad
Before my condemnation, in fear
Some rimer should prevent me: here's my Lady?
Would I were in heaven, or a thousand miles hence,
That I might not blush to look on her.

_Enter_ Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda.

_Dor._ You behold this preparation, and the enemies
Who are to fight against your life, yet if
You bring no witness here, that may convince ye
Of breach of faith to your Lords bed, and hold up
Unspotted hands before the King, this tryal
You are to undergo, will but refine,
And not consume your honour.

_Cal._ How confirm'd
I am here, whatsoever Fate falls on me,
You shall have ample testimony; till the death
Of my dear Lord, to whose sad memory
I pay a mourning widows tears, I liv'd
Too happy in my holy-day trim of glorie,
And courted with felicitie, that drew on me,
With other helps of nature, as of fortune,
The envie, not the love of most that knew me,
This made me to presume too much, perhaps
Too proud; but I am humbled; and if now
I do make it apparent, I can bear
Adversity with such a constant patience
As will set off my innocence, I hope Sir,
In your declining age, when I should live
A comfort to you, you shall have no cause,
How e're I stand accus'd, to hold your honour
Ship-wrack'd in such a Daughter.

_Oli._ O best friend, my honour's at the stake too, for--

_Dor._ Be silent; the King.

_Enter King,_ Lemure, _and Attendants._

_Lem._ Sir, if you please to look upon
The Prisoner, and the many services
Her Father hath done for you--

_King._ We must look on
The cause, and not the persons. Yet beholding
With an impartial eye, th' excelling beauties
Of this fair Lady, which we did believe
Upon report, but till now never saw 'em,
It moves a strange kind of compassion in me;
Let us survey you nearer, she's a book
To be with care perus'd; and 'tis my wonder,
If such mishapen guests, as lust and murther,
At any price should ever find a lodging
In such a beauteous Inne! Mistake us not,
Though we admire the outward structure, if
The rooms be foul within, expect no favour.
I were no man, if I could look on beautie
Distress'd, without some pity; but no King,
If any superficial gloss of feature
Could work me to decline the course of Justice.
But to the cause, _Cleander's_ death, what proofs
Can you produce against her?

_Ber._ Royal Sir, touching that point my Brothers death,
We build on suppositions.

_King._ Suppositions? how? Is such a Lady Sir to be condemn'd
On suppositions?

_Ber._ They are well grounded Sir:
And if we make it evident she is guilty
Of the first crime we charge her with, Adulterie,
That being the parent, it may find belief,
That murther was the issue.

_King._ We allow
It may be so; but that it may be, must not
Infer a necessary consequence
To cast away a Ladies life. What witnesses
To make this good?

_Ber._ The principal, this woman,
For many years her servant; she hath taken
Her oath in Court. Come forward.

_King._ By my Crown a lying face.

_Clar._ I swore Sir for the King:
And if you are the partie, as I do
Believe you are, for you have a good face,
How ever mine appears, swearing for you Sir,
I ought to have my oath pass.

_King._ Impudent too? well, what have you sworn?

_Clar._ That this Lady was
A goodly tempting Lady, as she is:
How thinks your Majestie? and I her servant,
Her officer as one would say, and trusted
With her closest Chamber-service; that _Lisander_
Was a fine timber'd Gentleman, and active,
That he cou'd do fine gambolls
To make a Lady merrie; that this pair,
A very loving couple, mutually
Affected one another: so much for them Sir.
That I, a simple waiting-woman, having taken
My bodily oath, the first night of admittance
Into her Ladiships service, on her slippers,
(That was the book) to serve her will in all things,
And to know no Religion but her pleasure,
'Tis not yet out of fashion with some Ladies;
That I, as the premisses shew, being commanded
To do my function, in conveyance of
_Lisander_ to her chamber, (my Lord absent,
On a pretended sickness) did the feat,
(It cannot be deny'd) and at dead mid-night
Left 'em together: what they did, some here
Can easily imagine! I have said, Sir.

_Dor._ The Devils Oratrix.

_King._ Then you confess you were her Bawd?

_Clar._ That's course, her Agent Sir.

_King._ So, goodie Agent? and you think there is
No punishment due for you[r] agentship?

_Clar._ Let her suffer first,
Being my better, for adulterie,
And I'le endure the Mulct impos'd on Bawds,
Call it by the worst name.

_Cal._ Live I to hear this?

_King._ Take her aside. Your answer to this Lady?

_Cal._ Heav'n grant me patience: to be thus confronted,
(O pardon Royal Sir a womans passion)
By one, and this the worst of my mis-fortunes,
That was my slave, but never to such ends Sir,
Would give a statue motion into furie:
Let my pass'd life, my actions, nay intentions,
Be by my grand accuser justly censur'd,
(For her I scorn to answer) and if they
Yield any probability of truth
In that she urges, then I will confess
A guilty cause; the peoples voyce, which is
The voyce of truth, my husbands tenderness
In his affection to me, that no dotage
But a reward, of humbleness, the friendship
Echo'd through _France_ between him and _Lisander_,
All make against her; for him, in his absence,
(What ever imputation it draw on me)
I must take leave to speak: 'tis true, he lov'd me,
But not in such a wanton way, his reason
Master'd his passions: I grant I had
At mid-night conference with him; but if he
Ever receiv'd a farther favour from me,
Than what a Sister might give to a Brother,
May I sink quick: and thus much, did he know
The shame I suffer for him, with the loss
Of his life for appearing, on my soul
He would maintain.

_Enter_ Lisander, _and_ Alcidon.

_Lisa._ And will, thou clear example of womens pureness.

_King._ Though we hold her such,
Thou hast express'd thy self a desperate fool,
To thrust thy head into the Lions jawes,
The justice of thy King.

_Lisa._ I came prepar'd for't,
And offer up a guilty life to clear
Her innocence; the oath she took, I swear to;
And for _Cleander's_ death, to purge my self
From any colour malice can paint on me,
Or that she had a hand in't, I can prove
That fatal night when he in his own house fell,
And many daies before, I was distant from it
A long daies journey.

_Clarin._ I am caught.

_Ber._ If so,
How came your sword into this stewards hands? stand forth.

_Mal._ I have heard nothing that you spake:
I know I must dye, and what kind of death
Pray you resolve me, I shall go away else
In a qualm; I am very faint.

_Enter_ Leon, _Servants, and Guard._

_King._ Carry him off, his fear will kill him. [_Ex. with_ Mal.

_Dor._ Sir, 'twas my ambition,
My Daughters reputation being wounded
I'th' general opinion, to have it
Cur'd by a publick trial; I had else
Forborn your Majesties trouble: I'le bring forth
_Cleander's_ murtherer, in a wood I heard him
As I rode sadly by, unto himself
With some compunction, though this devil had none,
Lament what he had done, cursing her lust,
That drew him to that blody fact.

_Le._ To lessen
The foulness of it, for which I know justly
I am to suffer, and with my last breath
To free these innocents, I do confess all;
This wicked woman only guilty with me.

_Clari._ Is't come to this? thou puling Rogue, dye thou
With prayers in thy mouth; I'le curse the laws
By which I suffer, all I grieve for is,
That I dye unreveng'd.

_Leon._ But one word more Sir,
And I have done; I was by accident where
_Lisander_ met with _Cloridon_, and _C[h]rysanthes_,
Was an ear witness when he sought for peace,
Nay, begg'd it upon colder terms than can
Almost find credit, his past deeds considered,
But they deaf to his reasons, severally
Assaulted him, but such was his good fortune,
That both fell under it; upon my death
I take it uncompel'd, that they were guilty
Of their own violent ends; and he against
His will, the instrument.

_Alci._ This I will swear too, for I was not far off.

_Dor._ They have alledg'd
As much to wake your sleeping mercy, Sir,
As all the Advocates of _France_ can plead
In his defence.

_King._ The criminal judge shall sentence
These to their merits--with mine own hand, Lady,
I take you from the bar and do my self
Pronounce you innocent. [_Ex. with_ Leon, _and_ Clari.

_All._ Long live the King.

_King._ And to confirm you stand high in our favour,
And as some recompence for what you have
With too much rigour in your trial suffered;
Ask what you please, becoming me to grant,
And be possest of 't.

_Cal._ Sir, I dare not doubt
Your royal promise, in a King it is
A strong assurance, that emboldens me
Upon my humble knees to make my boon,
_Lisander's_ pardon.

_Dor._ My good _Genius_ did prompt her to it.

_Le[m]._ At your feet thus prostrate, I second her petition.

_Alci._ Never King
Pour'd forth his mercie on a worthier subject.

_Ber._ To witness my repentance for the wrong
In my unjust suspicion I did both;
I join in the same suit.

_Lis._ The life you give,
Still ready to lay down for your service,
Shall be against your enemies imploy'd,
Nor hazarded in brawles.

_All._ Mercie, dread Sir.

_King._ So many pressing me, and with such reasons
Moving compassion, I hope it will not
Be censur'd levity in me, though I borrow
In this from justice to relieve my mercy;
I grant his pardon at your intercession,
But still on this condition; you _Lisander_,
In expiation of your guilt, shall build
A monument for my _Cloridon_, and _C[h]rysanthes_:
And never henceforth draw a Sword, but when
By us you are commanded, in defence of
The flower de Luce, and after one years sorrow
For your dear friend, _Cleander's_ wretched fate,
Marry _Calista_.

_Enter_ Lidian.

_Lis._ On your sacred hand, I vow to do it seriously.

_Lid._ Great Sir, stay,
Leave not your seat of justice, till you have
Given sentence in a cause as much important
As this you have determined.

_King. Lidian?_

_Enter_ Clarange, _and_ Frier.

_Lid._ He Sir, your humblest subject, I accuse _Clarange_
Of falshood in true friendship at the height;
We both were suiters to this Lady, both
Injoyn'd one pennance.

_Clar._ Trouble not the King
With an unnecessarie repetition
Of what the court's familiar with already.

_Kin. Clarange?_

_Dor._ With a shaven crown?

_Olin._ Most strange.