Part 2

_Sem._ Oh _Seringo_! where shall I find a vertuous Man, like such a one that I have seen, chaste, and full of Rapture? Rapture is the Egg of Love, hatched by a radiant Eye, that brings to Life a _Cupid_ in his Breast. In thy Company he’s tasteless of Food and Wine, he’s restless, he’s empty of Words, and full of Sighs, is in a shivering Ague chill’d; then in a moment rais’d by the high Fever of Love, is in extatick Raptures, his Opticks are like two Balls of Fire, and look as fierce as if he took Gunpowder-Snuff; could you love such a one?

_Serin._ How gay, how free, how merry is he! How full of Charms to move! His Soul is full of Love.

_Enter_ Hurlothrumbo.

_Sem._ What, not a Word? sure ’tis pain to speak?

_Hurlo._ My Tongue is Thought’s Midwife, and has been a gossiping all Night with a very fine Lady, and is not able now to perform her Office.

_Sem._ The rich _Molotto_ Lady, I presume?

_Hurlo._ She is rich, do you not like her for that?

_Sem._ But give me the Man that’s like the Bee, That flies round and round the Field to see, To taste of every Herb, to chuse the Sweet, to miss the Sour, He hovers and sings, and sucks the true Vertue from the Flower: But the mean Soul like yours that courts for Money, Is like the Wasp, will settle upon a Nettle for a little Honey.

[_Ex._ Sementory _and_ Seringo.

_Enter_ Theorbeo.

_Hurlo._ The King will instantly wait upon your Majesty; but is now engaged in the Affairs of the Government.

_Theo._ After what manner are you govern’d?

_Hurlo._ Spiritually and Temporally, King, Lords, Commons, Parsons, Clergymen and Divines,

_Theo._ What is a Parson?

_Hurlo._ A Parson is——I beg pardon, the King comes.

[_Ex._ Hurlothrumbo.

_Theo._ _Adam_ before _Eve_ was made, longed for something he knew not what; I long for something more than _Eve_, I know not where.

_Enter_ King.

_King._ _Theorbo_, why meditate yon thus? that Soul of thine that came from Heaven, longs to leave me, to soar aloft and travel home; grieve not thus for a Woman, I myself am tender, yet bold; I often weep in a fine Lady’s Presence, but in a moment can conquer that Passion, and venture my Life with a Lion; can lay my Hand under the Foot of an humble Beggar, or take a lofty Emperor by the Nose.

_Enter_ Hurlothrumbo.

_King._ _Hurlothrumbo_, what Tidings from the World?

_Hurlo._ Not any that will please your Majesty; here are some poor Men petitioning you for Charity.

_King._ That will doubly please me; I relieve them as Men, and satisfy the Thirst of Compassion, at the same time, my Soul’s invested with sacred Pride, think I am highly honour’d, and entertain the Gods.

_Hurlo._ Here is also a poor Prince sends to borrow Money.

_King._ That will also please me; I receive the Borrower with more Joy than him that comes to pay a Debt.

_Enter_ Flame.

_Flame._ Beggars be gone, these Men sell Land upon the blue Plains; see what a Figure they cut, who’ll buy any? Oh you, I know you well, (_pointing to the King_) you are the most covetous Man in the Universe, you give what you have away to the Poor, that you may enjoy it all yourself; and when your time is to die, you’ll not leave a Farthing behind you to fling away. I return you thanks for the Post of Honour you offered me; but does your Majesty think a Soul like mine was born for Servitude? No; I’ll sooner be an _Alexander_ in my own Park-Pale: He that lives in Pleasure runs up a Score, and he that is afflicted, is paying Debts; this is Spirit; what has Flesh to do with that? A Coquet in the Soul, a Harlot for the Devil. I am a Man amazed in Love, Nature is hot and too much fudled with Fire; in the out-raging Jealousies of my Soul, I rent my Brain, and when my Rival was with her. I ran distracted to her Cheeks, I kiss’d, I curs’d, I bless’d, I wept, an Earthquake in my Breast, Thunder and Lightning in my Head, that storm’d down Tempest, and burst my Heart. Oh what is Woman! I am sadly in Love, I am not well; do kill me, O pity a Lover.

[_Ex._ Flame.

_King._ _Hurlothrumbo_, what is thy Opinion of this Man? my prophetick Soul loves him.

_Hurlo._ I advise him to starve himself, from a Horse to a Man; for if he dies at this time, he’ll be metamorphos’d into a wild _Elysian_ Colt.

He’ll cock his Tail, he’ll praunce and stare, Will gallop, snort, and snuff the Air; And all his Thoughts will be of——

_King._ Pray tell me how does Love affect thee?

_Hurlo._ When I see a Lady with a full Chest, flat Back, falling Shoulders, a long Neck, and a languishing Air, every Pulse beats up a March vehemently towards her; I touch, I muse, I am in a Trance, a pleasing Stupidity, Astunment, my Faculties are on fire, a Smoak rises in the Eyes of the Mind, Reason is deaf, the Intellect blind, my Nerves creep, I shiver; charm’d in Terror, the Body trembles in the Bargain of buying Raptures with the Soul.

_King._ ’Tis not Love, it’s Temptation.

_Hurlo._ ’Tis a Description of a Combat, in which all Men are conquer’d.

_King._ Not so, _Hurlo_, I will speak for myself: Ambition high rose up in the Mind, to fight with Vertue, in the beauteous Fair; and she a superlative _Venus_ of the World; I was Fire, and Faculties keen; she was Love with languishing Retreat, but when she surrendred all to my Will; I struck not the Vanquish’d, but conquer’d myself.

_Hurlo._ ’Twas a noble Retreat, your Majesty bravely run away.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Serv._ The Lord _Dologodelmo_ waits without to speak to your Majesty.

[_Ex._ Theorbeo, Hurlo, _and_ Servant.

_King._ I am at leisure——From whence this Distress in my Breast of late, restless Nights, horrid Visions, affluster’d Spirits fly around my Heart; my prophetick Soul, like _Argus_, discerns Destruction approaching.

_Enter_ Dologo.

_Dolo._ If it be a Crime to bear ill Tidings, your Majesty’s Goodness will oblige you to pardon.

_King._ Speak, speak _Godelmo_, thou art my Friend.

_Dolo._ Lord _Darno_ has sold his Effects at home, and is now raising an Army in the Northern Parts of your Majesty’s Dominions; _Darony_ and _Urlandenny_ are set out for the South, with the same Design.

_King._ Go, _Dolo._ and bring _Theorbeo_ hither to me. [_Ex._ Dolo.] Oh, who shall deliver me from the Contagions of Mortals! that I had been born in humbler State: Ye rural Shepherds, ye Companions of Angels, I envy you: that I could be like to you, my Ambition only to reach the Top of a Mountain, to lean upon my Staff, there to admire the beautiful Œconomy of the Universe, listen to the Linnets, Larks, and Nightingales, that warble forth their Praise on high; to the Sun they offer up their Joy: these would teach me to be grateful. Of my Lambs, that innocently sport all around me; of them I will learn Humility, and despite your Arrogance: my Dog, that scouts upon the Plain, I’ll compare him with you, and blush for you: he loves more, and is constant, a fervent Friend, will fight till Death for his Master, rises not up against him when he smites him; he’s grateful, he flatters not, and to your shame, has more Compassion; for with his Tongue he’ll heal the Wound of the Oppressed. Ye Rationals, learn of Brutes; and teach me to abhor Mankind.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ Theorbeo _and_ Dologodelmo.

_King._ _Theorbeo_, you say your desire is to exert yourself in the War, I had much rather you’d stay; what say you?

_Theo._ ’Tis my desire, that my Spirits may rouze and shake off these heavy Elements; the shining of my Soul is over-whelm’d with Clouds, I long to discharge this heavy Hail-storm upon the Heads of all your Adversaries.

_King._ _Godelmo_, is there any danger?

_Dolo._ There is not; when the Enemy hear the King’s Trumpet sound, it will be as when the Lion roareth in the Forest, every Monster’s Heart will tremble, and in a moment fly to their Dens for shelter.

_King._ See that Draughts are made out of my Troops, 20,000 of the most proper Men. This moment I’ll review my Army.

[_Ex._ King _and_ Theor.

_Enter_ Hurlothrumbo, _out of Breath_.

_Dolo._ What’s the matter now, my Lord, you seem to be out of Breath?

_Hurlo._ Out of Breath! I may well be out of Breath, the Wind may well rise, the Conjurers are all at work, I have a Tempest in my Belly.

_Dolo._ Pray let the Storms cease, and let me hear the Cause.

_Enter_ King.

_Hurlo._ Cause! Cause enough; one _Lomporhomock_, a _Dutch_ Officer, is just landed with 200,000 Men.

_King._ Go this moment, and get my Troops in readiness, and I’ll give them the meeting myself.

[_Ex._ Hurlo. _and_ Dolo.

I am rais’d above the common Height of Man, lifted up to the rattling Climes of Discord, where _Dologodelmo_ and _Hurlothrumbo_ rumble along the Sky, and says the Element begins to crack; but as the Lightning flies before the Thunder-clap, so shall _Darony_ fly before me, or Death shall swallow me up.

But yet, shall I in this tempestuous Season, In furious headlong bid farewel to Reason? No; in Storms all Fools are hurrican’d in Mind, But Wisdom gently moves upon the swiftest Wind.

To fight, and in the heat of Blood, in an Agony, drop into Eternity, and carry the Fire with me. O! let me not pause, let me not think, for if I think, Divinity will make me like a Lamb, and then persuade me to be a Coward; no, I’ll go and recommend

My _Cademore_’s Charms to happy Fate that sent her, Then fly to War’s Alarms, and both my Lives will venture.

[_Ex._ King.

_Enter_ Sementory _and_ Seringo.

_Serin._ I am all at War within.

_Sem._ So much in Love with two Men! alas thy Combat will do you no harm; you admire _Darone_ for his Honour, and _Hurlothrumbo_’s Bravery.

_Serin._ Oh advise me.

_Sem._ Of all Happiness, that is the most sweet that is the nearest to us; Riches lie in the Purse, Love in the Heart: never marry for Honour, or Title; Fame is always at a distance; the Man I love is near. What is Fame? a Word; that Word is Wind, the humming of a Bee: but when I sleep by the Man I love, no Wind can come to me.

_Enter_ Flame, _and sings_.

_Sem._ So, my Lord, your Aid is required at the Wars.

_Flam._ I’ll fly from the War, Love and War always jar; there is no Calm in Love and War; let my _Seringo_ live with me, then farewel Honour, farewel Care.

[_Exit._

_The End of the Second_ ACT

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ACT III.

_Enter_ Hurlothrumbo _and_ Dologodelmo.

_Dolo._ _Hurlothrumbo_, are you ready to mount?

_Hurlo._ ’Tis confounded dark, must we not stay for the King?

_Dolo._ No; the Princess _Cademore_ will not hear of his going to the Wars; at the Sound of the Word, she faints, sinks and dies away.

[_Exit_ Dolo.

_Enter_ Servant _with a Letter, delivers it, and Exit_.

[Hurlo. _reads it_.

_Hurlo._ Oh ’tis from _Darony_! _Make me the next Man to the Crown, if I desert the King_; how can I do that? Why did he not ask me to murder my dearest Friend, curse the Deity, or debauch a Man’s Wife, and separate their Souls eternal? _It will preserve a great deal of Blood_, that’s true. _So long as_ Theorbeo _stays, thy Honour wears like a Garment_: may be so; I’ll consider of this.

[_Exit_ Hurlo.

_Enter_ Darony _and_ Urlandenny.

[_Guns fire at a distance._

_Daro._ They’re punctual to the time.

_Urlan._ True, my Lord.

_Daro._ This is the Place we’ll fix our Standard; now the Guns are discharg’d, the Men from every end of the City with a Shout will come to this Place, and stir not you an Inch till _Lomporhomock_ enters the City. Who comes there?

_Enter_ Temo.

_Temo._ A Friend and Servant of thine.

_Urlan._ What is thy Name, and thy Business here in the Dead of Night?

_Temo._ My Name is _Temo_; as to my Business, ’tis secret.

_Urlan._ You are the famous Inchanter; can you tell us what Adventures will happen, the cause of the Guns firing thus early?

_Temo._ ’Tis the first Volly of a mighty War; this Morning exactly at two the Battle will be rehears’d first in the _Elysian_ Fields.

_Urlan._ Is it not possible for me to see it?

_Temo._ ’Tis possible.

_Urlan._ Accept of this Purse of Guineas; let me see, the time is now expired.

[Temo _stamps, a Spirit rises up, and gives him a Talisman_.

_Temo._ You shall, my Lord; hold this firm to your right Eye: tell me what you see.

_Urlan._ I see the _Elysian_ World, ’tis light as Noon of Day, and all us Mortals act in yonder Climes: I see myself, I see _Hurlothrumbo_; _Hurlo_ kisses a Lass; the Spirits smile; I stir my Hand, it moves yonder. _Mars_ stands in the Element, and beholds the People; they divide, and make two separate Armies; Death stalks among the Croud, marking his own Appointed. Oh! he makes towards me! oh! he’ll touch me; take it I’ll see no more.

[_A shout behind the Scenes, Fire and Sword! Fire and Sword! rise quickly._

_Daro._ This is _Puny_’s House, the Miser, break it open.

_Urlan._ Forbear, forbear he’ll rise and open the Door; fall back, he comes.

_Daro._ I’ll go head the Mob, break open the King’s Treasury, and satisfy their Thirst with Gold; then will I take possession of his Person, and his Crown.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Puny.

_Puny._ Oh bless me! Fire and Sword! I shall not live three Minutes! if my trembling Limbs permit me, I’ll kneel, I’ll pray Heaven preserve my poor Soul; these Villains will come in a moment, and take every Penny of my Money; I desire I may be forgiven all my Sins. These Rogues are coming, they’ll rob me, take my Plate, and break my Windows: O sweet Heaven forgive me all my ill-dreamt visionary Lewdness! If they come, I shall never purchase _Kemp_’s Estate, but buy a Coat of Arms, and a Patent for my Son.

_Enter_ Urlandenny _and_ Temo.

_Urlan._ So old _Gaddecar_, you’re at Prayers, cry aloud, thy Deity is deaf, with your squinting Soul that kens both Earth and Heaven; fling your Bags into the Elements, then will you look straight upright: Be gone, what hast thou to do in this World? What dost thou mean?

_Puny._ I mean to be the Root of a Family.

_Urlan._ If the Root be Avarice, what will the Body, Branches, Leaves and Fruit be? Twenty Generations must pass away, before thy Seed can be refined so far, as to produce a Gentleman.

_Puny._ Is not Gold a Gentleman, a Person of Quality? What makes a Gentleman?

_Urlan._ Education, Honour, and Generosity; add to a fine Gentleman Love, Resolution, Taste; a Person of Quality has all these Perfections, and is discerning, with a sublime Thirst in the Soul; a longing to reward Merit; fervent to serve the meanest, and punctual to his Word; his Blood is double and treble refin’d; he’s full of Heaven; a Sunfire; a Light that quenches all the Flame of Nature; he lets himself down to converse with great Men and Angels, that are in Intellect but three Inches high.

_Puny._ Cannot a new-born Gentleman have all these Perfections?

_Urlan._ No, your Upstarts are huge, and tall, converse with a Prince of the Air, and their Nostrils are full of the Devil.

[_Ex._ Pun. _and_ Tem.

_Drums beat. Enter_ Darony.

_Dar._ Now, my dear Friend, all is secured, the King is in Chains.

_Urlan._ What Drums are these?

_Dar._ _Lomperhomock_, the _Dutch_ General.

_Enter_ Lomperhomock.

My Lord _Lomperhomock_, you’re welcome to Court.

_Lom._ I wish you much Happiness of your Crown, when it is secured.

_Dar._ I hope there is no Danger.

_Lom._ ’Tis my earnest Desire that you will instantly execute the King; for while he’s living, all his Friends will rouse up like Lions, but when they hear he’s dead, ’twill greatly oppress their Souls.

_Dar._ He shall instantly be executed.

_Lom._ Then I’ll march in Pleasure, and meet his Army.

[_Ex._ Urland. Dar. _and_ Lom.

_The Scene changes to the King in Prison._

_King._ I would ask Relief of Heaven, though ’tis in vain, when all the eternal Infernals are turn’d out loose upon me, to pour out their flaming Cataracts of mighty, limited Revenge.

_Enter_ Lomperhomock.

_Lomp._ Pardon me, oh King, I am come to inform you, at Six a-Clock this Morning is your appointed Time to die.

[_Ex. King._

_King._ Let them strike me, let these Clouds pass away; let them break the Sky within me, that I may truly see, enter Orbs like the Sun; see Spirits, Angels, and the radiant Fields: but what is that to a Man in Love, a Man whose Heaven’s here? Oh my _Cademore_, who can bear the Pangs of parting! since we must part, ’tis death to live.

_Enter_ Cademore.

_King._ O Executioner art thou come, bring to me a Taste of Torment, a Rack of Nature, like Heaven’s Vengeance, to afflict my Soul? Still thou art my Friend, and something more than Woman, my Prospect-Glass to Paradise; thou Emblem of Eternity; oh how great’s my Thought of Heaven, whilst my Eyes are fix’d on thee! For if the way to live with you, lay through the Shades of Misery, to lodge in tremendous Caves of Darkness, one single Thought of thee would fill Obscurity full of Light, and make it like a Palace adorn’d with Diamonds: but now, oh now, what is my Hope, a Man is never destitute of Hope; but my dear Expectation, my Spring of Life, is now become the Sting of Death: for every Thought of thee shoots through my Heart; and at a Sight of thee, oh ye Goddess! that I could love thee less, and Heaven more.

_Cad._ I am sorry I encrease your Grief, I come in hopes to mitigate your Pain; for every Sigh that proceeds from you, pursues me, and ecchoes in my Breast.

_King._ That I believe, it must be so; ’tis so in Love, ’tis so in Musick, ’tis so in Souls; the fine in Raptures sympathize with cœlestial Joys, revived by all their Unisons in Heaven; but to free thee from Pain, I’ll think no more of Life below, but fly to nobler Thoughts, and pursue my Hopes in Happier Climes.

_Cad._ Cease not to vent your Grief for my Relief, ’tis my Delight to share with you in Suffering; but rather wish that all may be fixed on me, that I may take them to some gentle Stream, and then to lay me down to stifle all in Waves; and there, oh there, let my Spirit expire.

_King._ Nay, no more of that, if thou be my Friend, hate me, be lewd, be infamous, that I may banish thee; oh let me banish thee from every Glance of Thought, that I may take my Sleep, my lasting Sleep in Peace.

_Cad._ Name not that to me.

_King._ Name not what?

_Cad._ Your Death, my Lord.

_King._ ’Tis Death to resign up thee, to yield thee into others Arms; oh my _Cademore_, be a Virgin still, for if you marry, you part from me, and make me jealous in Eternity.

_Cad._ Let no Thought of that arise, the Pangs of your Death will always smart in me, keep me from all and every Thought of Man.

_King._ The Pangs of my Death smart in thee, there is no pain in Death, the Sound of your Words is Musick to my Soul, and makes the ever-living Youth rejoice, and leap for Joy, being ripe for birth, desires to go to Life; but this Body, this timorous Mother Earth; alas she shivers, and dreads the Hour of her Travail, but when that Midwife Death in Life shall give me Birth, Oh! may it be in that Kingdom where thou in long Eternity shall shine; and if my Happiness be no more than what I conceive in thee, and that to last for ever, then let the World say I am nothing, I am dishonourable, the Crown of my Head is dropped from the Kingdom of my Body, so that I may say I live with thee, but when we part.

_Cad._ O my Soul!

_King._ O Heaven!

_Cad._ Oh Angels!

_King._ Burst Heart, and let me fall.

_Cad._ Oh Death! quickly to my Aid.

_King._ Oh my _Cademore_, live!

_Cad._ If it must be so, come visit me after Death.

_King._ Oh how can I promise that? If this great Sun should refuse his Heaven, and slide from Orb to Orb, leave the Elements, prostrate himself on the Earth, fall a Victim at thy Feet, it would only serve to surprize and fire thy Heart; blind thy mortal Eyes; and lest the Garment of the Intellect be thus incomparable and Glorious, make me not promise, for if I promise, ’twill make me uneasy in Heaven, ’till I perform my Word; but if I can entreat to thy Guardian Saint, then I’ll attend thee all the Day, hover and settle upon thy Pillow all the Night, where I’ll converse with thee in Visions, and when thy Time is full done, I’ll wait and watch the closing of thine Eyes, and then will I catch away thy Soul in a Divine Transport; with Cœlestial Wings we’ll soar to the Lofty Mountains in the Clouds, when they shall dissolve like a Bed of Down; our inward Hearts shall kiss each other in Love, in Extasy, and then we’ll fly away together from all Adversity.

[Cademore _faints, and is carried off the Stage_.

Oh my Soul stealeth from me. Clippeth and hangeth upon thee.

[_King lies down._

_Enter_ Theorbeo. _The King rises._

_King._ Oh _Theorbeo_, I perceive there is an End of Hope; it was my fear they would conquer thee, and bring thee to this Place of Adversity.

_Theor._ It is not so, my Lord, I have left your Troops in trusty Hands, and am come here, that you may make your Escape in my Habit; and by that Time you have reach’d to the Army, I being a Stranger, will pass the Centry again, and come to your Majesty.

_King._ ’Tis an inspired Thought, we’ll put it in Execution.

[_The King dresses himself in_ Theorbeo_’s Clothes_.

Oh _Theorbeo_, grieve not, every Sigh of thine, will make my Heart to weep Drops of Blood; consider a small Affliction by chance may happen; but these great Calamities, must proceed from something Great; and if so, it is Philosophy to rejoice.

_Theor._ But Nature conquers Philosophy, and is a match for Divinity: I am sometimes at wars with my Will, whether to fly to Sin for Refuge, or to Heaven for Relief.

_King._ My Lord I’ll haste away, and in one Hour expect to see you again.

_Theor._ When I think you’re safe, I’ll follow.

[_Ex. King._

_Enter_ Dologodelmo _guarded_.

O _Godelmo_, what brings thee to this Place of Misery? Speak quickly, though I dread to hear.

_Dolo._ May all the Ills that are preparing in the Elements, be dash’d on the Head of _Hurlothrumbo_, that I might die, and my Soul join with his Adversary; I’d fly swiftly with the Ball, and direct it to his inward Heart.

_Theor._ Curse him not; has he deserted you?