Part 4
_I’ll to the simple Fair incline, Constant Love, full of_ Jove, _all divine, All, all, all divine, she’s rais’d, touch’d, rap’d, and only mine: O lead me, lead me to one like thee! Yet mighty Fate from happy State, Leads us all from Ruin, Through jealous Discords oh, And parting worse than Death, Death, oh._
[_Exeunt._
_The End of the Fourth Act._
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ACT V.
_Enter_ Hurlothrumbo, _in Prison guarded_.
_Hurlo._ Leave me alone, let me vent, let me pour out the inveterate Anguish of my Soul; I see there is nothing impossible; no, does not this World turn round without Spit or Jack, and roast before the Fire in the Elements ’till all her Fruits are ripe to eat? If this be so, all things are rul’d by the same Power, and there is nothing impossible. Stand still ye Globe, let there be but one Season, scorch or starve the Universe: Come a little nearer, oh ye Sun, and burn all mortal Race, or keep thee farther off, and starve them soon to Death; oh that all Mankind might perish with myself!
_Enter_ Lomporhomock, _guarded_.
_Hurlo._ My Lord _Lomporhomock_, you’re welcome to your new Habitation.
_Lom._ ’Tis a cold Place.
_Hurlo._ Yes; you had us’d to stew your Lungs up in Claret all Night, and the next Morning skim the Pot with a Pipe of Tobacco; but a little cold Water must now suffice: I wish I had the scourging of thy _Dutch_ Buttocks.
_Lom._ Is there any Hopes of Liberty?
_Hurlo._ Nothing more sure than that; they’ll first make thee dance the stripping Dance.
_Lom._ How is that?
_Hurlo._ They’ll first take this Stone Cloak off thy Shoulders; thy Clothes off thy Back; then strip thy Body of thy Soul, and send it into its own Country stark naked, and a good Journey to you.
_Lom._ Rather a good Dream.
_Hurlo._ This World is all a Dream, an Outside, a Dunghill pav’d with Diamonds; but to you and your cursed Army nothing can compare,
Except I hunt the Woods, to find a Savage Boar: No sooner he his Adversary sees, But rouses up from Luxury and Ease; His Heart and Eyes, was in Surprize, and both at Civil War, And all his Passion backward flies, and flames into the Air, Then from his Jaws did Foam descend, as tho’ he fear’d no Evil; The Tail, the Tusks, the Bristles stood an end, as if he’d fight the Devil; But when with Spear, the Foe drew near, to shout for happy Day, His Ears let fall, and drooping all, cry’d _Boh!_ and run away.
[_Exit_ Lomp.
_Enter_ Primo.
_Hurlo._ Honourable Sir, and greatest Comfort in Adversity, ’tis my fervent Desire to know what Pleasure we shall enjoy in the _Elysian_; for now all my Hopes are there.
_Primo._ Has your Pleasure been intellectual, in which the Body has no share?
_Hurlo._ I have had very delightful Dreams, all Spirit and Love; but I must needs say, the Body did share in the Pleasure, and Woman has been all the Delight of my Life.
_Primo._ Look up, my Lord; you see yon Marble Sky, thro’ that is the Way you are to pass; then you come to a Scarlet Flame, that Flame compounds the Nature of Woman, and if that Part of Woman has dissolved thee here, how shalt thou be able to march thro’ the fiery Element, on which a Woman is made; no, it cannot be, you will descend, you’ll yearn to your old Delights, and visit the Virgins in the Night.
_Hurlo._ That’s good.
_Primo._ Then will you haunt melancholy Tombs, and visit _Hurlothrumbo_ in his Solitude; invite him to a Banquet of Raptures: but alas, he’ll be indispos’d, and so desire to be excus’d.
_Hurlo._ That’s blank; may I not fly amongst my old Friends, and noble Officers? will they not honour me as a Person of Quality?
_Primo._ Every Man is honour’d according to his Colour and Brightness; your common Souls are like dissolved Allum, pour’d in clear Water; these are not able to converse with the Sublimes, nor Gloworm shine before the Sun.
_Hurlo._ I hope they’ll not rob me of my Honour, that his Majesty has bestow’d upon me: they’ll call me Lord, will they not?
_Primo._ Words are not the Language of the Place, ’tis Musick, Motion, Hieroglyphick, Dress.
_Hurlo._ Tell me how shall I converse with _Brutus_, I long to see him: By what shall I know him?
_Primo._ _Brutus_ is in Scarlet; his Heart shines like a Star, and his Right hand is black.
_Hurlo._ What, for Murder! then I shall be black all over; now be sincere, and let me know your Opinion of my Case.
_Primo._ Then answer me, can you love a Friend more than a Mistress?
_Hurlo._ No.
_Primo._ Are you mov’d with Sounds? do they drive Venom from your Soul, and make your Blood run cold?
_Hurlo._ No.
_Primo._ Are you affected with sublime Prose; do your Nerves creep, and your Veins shiver?
_Hurlo._ No.
_Primo._ Then you’ll enter into the Shades like a Cow in an Opera, terrify’d with Delights; she lows and interrupts; she gallops to those Climes, where is most Grass, and a Bull.
[_Ex._ Primo.
_Hurlo._ May be live in my Dream, upon the Desarts of _Arabia_, hurl’d about with stormy Tempest, in Thunder, Lightning and Hail; be pursued by Dragons, Wolves and Tygers; then fly to my Body for shelter, and find the Door shut. Oh most horrid! oh, what has brought me to this unhappy Place of Misery? it was in pursuit of Honour.
Honour, like the lighted Meteor in the Air, She leads the midnight Traveller astray, Forsaken by the Light, the Sun and Day; Thro’ Brambles, Briers, Hedges, Ditches, The _Ignis fatuus_ the Fool bewitches. Thus stimulated, the glimmering Light deceives him, Leads him to a miry Bog, then vanishes and leaves him: Thus I do roul and wallow in the Mire of the Mind, Not one Moment’s Ease to my Soul can find; Shine oh Sun, my Life to me restore, And thee for _Fatuus_ I’ll forsake no more.
[_Ex._ Hurlo.
_Enter_ King, _and Officer_.
_King._ Here I parted with _Theorbeo_; ah he is gone, he is banish’d from the Earth; oh now my Body hungers for the Ground, as my Soul is a-thirst for Heaven; I will go visit him in the Dust, whilst Sorrow is desirous to vent, lest I rejoice at the Sight of _Cademore_, and forget my Grief for my Friend. The Fatigue of this Day has been very great; what can strengthen these trembling Nerves; quench and compose these flaming Spirits?
_Offic._ Sleep.
_King._ Oh, what can make an afflicted Mind to sleep?
_Offic._ Harmony.
_King._ ’Tis true; whilst I visit _Theorbeo_, get the Performers in readiness; let the Musick be _Astartus_, ’tis the Language of Angels, the Eccho of Heaven; and who shall declare the Sense to Mortals? Those Sounds inspire the Intellect, and strengthen the Soul; they animate and arm the Mind; raise to the highest Œconomy of the Universe, and lure me quite from Care; then finely turning the Keys of Paradise, they waft me from Orb to Orb, and make me, thro’ divine Opticks, see, the radiant Splendors of bright shining Worlds.
[_Ex. King and Officer._
[_Musick plays solemn. The Scene discovers_ Theorbeo_’s Statue in a Grove_.
_Enter_ King.
_King._ I could lay me down, and dissolve my Body by thee, and make my Soul to swim away to thine in Floods of Tears: Oh _Theorbeo_, thy Body was inhabited once by all things fine, Faculties that rous’d aloft within, ready to heave up the Sky, and force themselves to Heaven; full of an humble Grandeur, Resolution, Ambition divine, that mighty he, that wings the Soul: ’tis impossible that so much Greatness should ever cease to live; oh here let me stay, till thy Breath of eternal Raptures, shall descend from Heaven in Harmony; when thy bright Spirit, like the Sun, shall glance from the Sphere, I’ll leap up in Extasy, and meet thee in the Air; when we descend, I’ll stand to pause, to gaze, admire, rejoice and weep; I’ll parry thy Beams, run into thy Rays, and clasp thee in my Arms; if I become blind; but now sleepy Nature calls to rest, and as our Bodies slumbering sympathize, may our Souls in extatick Visions meet.
[_Enter_ Seringo _and sings, and Exit_.
_Enter_ Theorbeo _and_ Dologodelmo.
_Theor._ She resembles the Guardian Angel of a Man, when his Pupil to _Pluto_ and to Vice is given; then just like her, he sings, he mourns, and sends the Muse to Heaven.
_King._ Now have I pass’d my _Cademore_’s World, and enter _Theorbeo_’s Kingdom; is it thus we pass from lasting Sleep, and wak’d to Life by a Choir of Angels? This inimitable Sound makes all my Nerves to creep; the chanting Harmony thrills my Veins; the superlative Sweetness of the Musick raises me from the Dust of Death.
[_He rises and sees_ Theorbeo.
Oh _Theorbeo_, I am like a Cœlestial inspired Man, my Heart is full of Love, and overflows with Joy; is it lasting, or will it vanish? To-day or ever? Momentary or eternal? declare those blooming Thoughts; a Pearl and Heavenly Mystery lodge within thy Eyes, ripe with Anity, appris’d with Tidings from on high; oh tell to me the Case of separate Souls; or in the Rapidity of thy Career, catch me away in a divine Transport, I long to touch thee; may I touch thee?
_Theor._ Yes, you may.
_Dolo._ Will your Majesty give me leave to explain the Mystery?
_King._ Speak _Godelmo_, for I long to hear.
_Dolo._ The King was no sooner enter’d the Room of Burning-Glass; but it scorch’d his very Soul; crying out aloud to Heaven, with fervent Oraison, the Sun seem’d to start, and vail’d his Face with Clouds; for when he reflected on what was done, he mourn’d and wept, he wetted all the World with Tears: when we were both releas’d from our Chains, he drew the Vesture from his Eyes, and smil’d on all the Earth.
_King._ Oh _Theorbeo_, methinks I see the Angel, that pitches his Pavilion round thee, leave thee and march to the higher Regions of the Air, then rise up with his glittering Glory, and eclipse the Sun; O _Theorbeo_, I celebrate a Dunelmo in my Heart, and all the Faculties of my Soul are banqueting on high Delight.
_Enter_ Flame.
_Fla._ The Centry of my Actions is just reliev’d; my new Companion, and a good Conscience, revive my Vitals, chuck my Heart under the Chin; and all the Strings strike up a Rit-a-te; every Faculty is trickling down with Transports.
_Sings._ I gaze in Transport charm’d, My Soul’s with Love alarm’d.
[_Ex._
_A SONG._
_Scene changes to the Court._
_Enter_ Sementory _and_ Seringo.
_Sem._ See here comes the King; Calamity prepares a Man to receive a Petition; _Dolo_ will tell him the Cause of our coming.
_Enter_ Dologodelmo.
_Dolo._ I have inform’d the King that you have a Petition to his Majesty; he’ll instantly pass by, and speak to you; see where he comes!
[_Ex._ Dolo.
_Enter_ King.
_Sem._ Pray my Sovereign Lord hear us, let Pity move; the meanest of Kings pardon small Offences, and the mightiest of Kings may stand in need of Mercy; your Majesty knows that Greatness is seen more in a Man, when Mercy exerts in Lowliness, than when he rides in Fury, upon red-wing’d Thunder to revenge.
_King._ Rise up, I’ll hear no more, I can guess at what you’ll say. (_Ex._ Sem. _and_ Ser.) My Enemies are the Rod of Heaven, that seldom ceases to torment: How mean a thing it is for Men to beg that Life, that is in the Hands of the greatest Adversary? No, they cannot live, their Breath would infect the Air, who would turn loose Dragons, Wolves and Tygers, I am not safe upon my Throne; yet Wisdom, in the highest Philosophy, tells me I am fate? for if there be a Power above, I am the Shadow of that Power below; and if so, not all the Power of my Adversaries, and all the furious Infernals, can stir a Shadow the Breadth of a Hair, except they have power to move the Substance. I cannot bear to have an Enemy; if I destroy these Men, they go down to the Dust unconquered: I never knew a Temper, not of the most inveterate kind, but I could conquer it, and force the Man to love me. When Ambition, Revenge and Passions rise, then Reason strengthens, and Love stands up and demands a Parly; and when my vanquish’d Adversary stands before me, it is equal to me whether I strike or kiss.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ Sementory _and_ Seringo.
_Sem._ _Darony_ is very desirous to live, he’s much in love with Life; the King is now in _Cademore_’s Apartment; she may soften his Mind, and make him full of Compassion: _Darony_ deserves no Pity. Oh _Seringo_, what was you in love with, when you admir’d that Mortal?
_Ser._ Not with the Man, but his Title.
_Sem._ Well, we Women are not worth a wise Man’s Observation; our graceless Pride, and covetous Ambition, makes us always poor, and tasteless; were we humble as the purest Spirits, discerning as the Watchers above; we should admire Merit, then find Happiness, and be as rich as Hermits: you’ll never prosper for your Cruelty to the Lord _Flame_.
_Ser._ That’s my fear.
_Sem._ See, here he comes; ’tis Vertue creates Love, Love Fire, and Fire confin’d creates Madness; but give vent, and all shall be well.
_Ser._ I will, _Sementory_.
_Enter_ Flame.
_Fla._ What! not marry’d yet?
_Sem._ No; Angels are jealous of the Sublime in Ladies, prevent and preserve us from rude Men; for they destroy the Beauty of the Mind, as Time and Thought do the Body.
_Fla._ O _Seringo_! that thy Heart was Steel; ’tis Sand upon which I wrote all my Perfections, but every little Wind makes an Alteration, and blows the Impression quite away.
_Sem._ Make way; see here the King comes!
[_Ex._ Flame, Sementory, _and_ Seringo.
_Enter_ King _and_ Cademore.
_Cad._ Oh! tell me, how did you bear the Pangs of Parting?
_King._ When I heard that you was married to another my Soul sigh’d within me; it mourn’d, it griev’d, I perceiv’d a Tear of Blood to trickle down, and drop from the Bottom of my Heart; then Reason rouz’d within me, with celestial Wings I soar’d, I flew to my Aid aloft, I sigh’d, I bow’d sublime, and wept.
_Enter_ Theorbeo _and_ Dologodelmo.
_Dolo._ The vanquish’d Traitors are come to appear before your Majesty.
_King._ Can you bear to see any thing in distress?
_Theo._ I must own my Soul is apt to sympathize.
_King._ ’Tis so with me; when I see the Wound of a Man, that Part of me trembles; and thro’ viewing a Cripple, have been seiz’d with Lameness. How Thoughts rise up and plead to strengthen Mercy! telling me I am a Judge, my own Eternal highly honour’d, myself appears before myself, to receive from myself my irrevocable Sentence.
_A Shout behind the Scenes. Enter_ Hurlothrumbo, Urlandenny, _and_ Darony.
_King._ Here comes _Hurlothrumbo_ in Hieroglyphicks; pray the meaning of this comical Dress?
_Hurlo._ ’Tis a dumb Confession of my Guilt, ’tis an Index to my Heart; black and yellow without, wild and foolish within.
_King._ ’Tis true; though I have never known a Coward honourable, I have seen a stout Man a Villain; the Love of Gold will overthrow the greatest Heart: thou hast conquer’d a Lion, deceiv’d a Madman, and cunningly escaped from Death, but now——
_Hurlo._ Oh now let me live that I may be all divine, and so out-wit the Devil!
_King._ _Darony_, what have you to ask?
_Dar._ Life, and Pardon for my Offences.
_King._ As the Optick through the Lid discerns the Light; so through the Eye of the Intellect, methinks I see your separate Souls strolling sad through the intricate Windings of _Elysium_: I pity you all as poor unfortunate Men; _Darony_, I will not take from you that Life which Heaven has given, but will give thee Riches to satisfy the Thirst of thy Ambition. Why do you pause?
_Dar._ Oh what an Alteration in the Mind! your Generosity is at Wars within, and knocks down Avarice, Cruelty and Pride in me, I am in love with your Greatness, and hate myself; I myself will punish your Offender, [_stabs himself_] Oh! loose me, ’tis not finished.
[Dol. _holds him_.
_King._ See, is the Wound mortal?
_Dol._ ’Tis not, my Lord.
_King._ Unarm him, take him hence, he shall not die. _Hurlothrumbo_, so long as thou art cloathed in that like Garment, thou shalt live, thou shalt never appear in Scarlet any more, to deceive Mankind. _Urlandenny_, I remember what good thy Father perform’d in our Family, therefore I will not separate thy Soul from thy Body, but will give thee Liberty.
_Urlan._ Oh how Heaven exerts in Nature! Great and noble Man, every Tongue shall speak of thee, their Words shall mingle with the Winds, to fly and sing through all and every part: those Sounds rebound from Sky to Sky, and Eccho’s ring in every Heart; and when that Cloud thy Body shall pass from the Sun, thy Soul, that Sun, shall shine throughout all Worlds: the diminutive Spirits will in Amazement stand, for thy exceeding Glory will eclipse their Sight: Fear and Trembling on their vital Hearts will seize, they’ll drop to the Earth as Leaves in Autumn fall; the mortal Stars will not presume to gaze, but in thy Presence veil their Faces all.
[_Exeunt._
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_FINIS._
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EPILOGUE,
BY
Mr. _BYROM_.
Enter _Hurlothrumbo_.
_Ladies and Gentlemen, my Lord of_ Flame _Has sent me here to thank you in his Name; Proud of your Smiles, he’s mounted many a Story Above the tip-top Pinnacle of Glory: Thence he defies the Sons of Clay, the Criticks; Fellows, says he, that are meer Paralyticks, With Judgments lame, and Intellects that halt, Because a Man outruns them——they find fault. He is indeed, to speak my poor Opinion, Out of the reach of_ critical _Dominion._
[Enter _Critick_.]
_Adso! her’s one of ’em._——Cr. _A strange odd Play, Sir_;
[Enter _Author_, pushes _Hurlothrumbo_ aside.
Au. _Let me come to him——Pray, what’s that you say, Sir?_
Cr. _I say, Sir, Rules are not observ’d here._——Au. _Rules, Like Clocks and Watches, were all made for Fools. Rules make a Play? that is_——Cr. _What, Mr. Singer?_
Au. _As if a Knife and Fork should make a Finger._
Cr. _Pray Sir, which is the_ Hero _of your Play?_
Au. _Hero! why they’re all Heroes in their way._
Cr. _Why here’s no_ Plot! _or none that’s understood._
Au. _There’s a Rebellion tho’; and that’s as good._
Cr. _No Spirit nor Genius in’t._ Au. _Why didn’t here A_ SPIRIT _and a_ GENIUS _both appear?_
Cr. _Poh, ’tis all Stuff and Nonsense_——Au. _Lack-a-day! Why that’s the very_ Essence _of a Play, Your Old-House, New-House, Opera and Ball; ’Tis_ NONSENSE, Critick, _that supports ’em all. As you yourselves ingeniously have shown, Whilst on their Nonsense you have built your own._
Cr. _Here wants——Wants what! Why now for all your canting, What one Ingredient of a Play is wanting? Musick, Love, War, Death, Madness without Sham, Done to the Life, by_ Persons _of the_ Dram: _Scenes and Machines, descending and arising; Thunder and Lightning; ev’ry thing surprizing!_
Cr. _Play, Farce, or Opera is’t?_ Au. _No matter whether, ’Tis a_ REHEARSAL _of ’em all together. But come Sir, come, troop off, old Blundermonger, And interrupt the_ Epilogue _no longer._
[_Author_ drives the _Critick_ off the Stage.
Hurlo _proceed_——
Hurlo. _Troth! he says true enough, The Stage has given rise to wretched Stuff: Critick, or Player; a_ Dennis, _or a_ Cibber, _Vie only which shall make it go down glibber; A thousand murd’rous ways they cast about To stifle it——but Murder-like——’twill out. Our Author fairly, without so much Fuss Shews it—in_ puris Naturalibus; _Pursues the Point beyond its highest Height, } Then bids his Men of Fire, and Ladies bright, } Mark, how it looks!——When it is out of Sight. } So true a_ Stage, _so fair a Play for Laughter, There never was before, nor ever will come after: Never, no never; not while vital Breath, Defends ye from that_ long-liv’d Mortal _Death. Death!——something hangs on my prophetick Tongue, I’ll give it utterance——be it right or wrong_: Handel _himself shall yield to_ Hurlothrumbo, _And_ Bononcini _too shall cry_——Succumbo. _That’s if the Ladies condescend to smile: Their Looks make Sense, or Nonsense, in our Isle._
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