Mistake me not; far, far, 'tis from my thought,
As far from any wish of mine, to hinder
Preferment to an honourable bed,
Or fitting fortune; thou art young and handsome,
And t'were injustice, more, a tyranny,

Not to advance thy merit. Trust me, sister,
It shall be my first care to see thee match'd
As may become thy choice, and our contents:
I have your oath.

Euph. You have; but mean you, brother, To leave us, as you say?

Crot. Aye, aye, Euphrania:

He has just grounds direct him: I will prove
A father and a brother to thee.

Euph. Heaven

Does look into the secrets of all hearts:
Gods, you have mercy with ye! else—
Crot. Doubt nothing,

Thy brother will return in safety to us.
Örg. Souls sunk in sorrows never are without
them;

They change fresh airs, but bear their griefs about them. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Room in the Palace. A Flourish. Enter AMYCLAS the king, ARMOSTES, PROPHILUS, and attendants.

Amy. The Spartan gods are gracious; our humility

Shall bend before their altars, and perfume
Their temples with abundant sacrifice.

See, lords, Amyclas, your old king, is entering
Into his youth again. I shall shake off

This silver badge of age, and change this snow
For hairs as gay as are Apollo's locks;
Our heart leaps in new vigour.

Armo. May old time

Run back to double your long life, great sir! Amy. It will, it must, Armostes; thy bold nephew,

Death-braving Ithocles, brings to our gates
Triumphs and peace upon his conquering sword.
Laconia is a monarchy at length;
Hath in this latter war trod under foot
Messene's pride; Messene bows her neck
To Lacedemon's royalty: O'twas
A glorious victory, and doth deserve
More than a chronicle! a temple, lords,
A temple to the name of Ithocles.

Where didst thou leave him, Prophilus?
Pro. At Pephon,

Most gracious sovereign; twenty of the noblest
Of the Messenians there attend your pleasure,
For such conditions as you shall propose,
In settling peace, and liberty of life.

Amy. When comes your friend, the general?
Pro. He promis'd

To follow with all speed convenient.

Enter CROTOLON, CALANTHA, CHRYSTALL PHILEMA and EUPHRANIA.

Amy. Our daughter?-Dear Calantha, th happy news,

The conquest of Messene, hath already
Enrich'd thy knowledge?

Calan. With the circumstance

And manner of the fight, related faithfully
By Prophilus himself. But, pray, sir, tell me,
How doth the youthful general demean
His actions in these fortunes?

Pro. Excellent princess,

Your own fair eyes may soon report a truth
Unto your judgment, with what moderation,
Calmness of nature, measure, bounds and limit
Of thankfulness and joy, he doth digest
Such amplitude of his success, as would
In others, moulded of a spirit less clear,
Advance them to comparison with heaven,
But Ithocles-

Enter ITHOCLES; HEMAPHIL, and GRONEAS, and the rest of the Lords, ushering him in. Amy. Return into these arms, thy home, thy sanctuary,

Delight of Sparta, treasure of my bosom,
Mine own, own Ithocles!

Itho. Your humble subject.

Armo. Proud of the blood I claim an interest in, As brother to thy mother, I embrace thee, Right noble nephew.

Itho. Sir, your love's too partial.

Crot. Our country speaks by me, who, by thy valour,

Wisdom, and service, shares in this great action;
Returning thee, in part of thy due merits,
A general welcome.

Itho. You exceed in bounty.

Cal. Chrystalla, Philema, the chaplet!-Ithocles, Upon the wings of fame, the singular And chosen fortune of an high attempt

Is borne so past the view of common sight,
That I myself, with mine own hands, have wrought,
To crown thy temples, this provincial garland:
Accept, wear, and enjoy it, as our gift
Deserv'd, not purchas'd!

Itho. You're a royal maid.

Amy. She is, in all, our daughter.
Itho. Let me blush,

Acknowledging how poorly I have served,

What nothings I have done, compar'd with the honours

Heap'd on the issue of a willing mind;
In that lay mine ability, that only.
For who is he, so sluggish from his birth,
So little worthy of a name, or country,
That owes not, out of gratitude for life,
A debt of service, in what kind soever
Safety, or counsel of the commonwealth,
Requires for payment?

Cal. He speaks truth.

Itho. Whom heaven

Is pleas'd to stile victorious, there, to such,
Applause runs madding, like the drunken priests
In Bacchus' sacrifices, without reason;
Voicing the leader on a demi-god;

When as indeed, each common soldier's blood
Drops down as current coin in that hard purchase,
As his, whose much more delicate condition
Hath suck'd the milk of ease: judgment com-
mands,

But resolution executes. I use not,
Before this royal presence, these fit sleights
As in contempt of such as can direct :
My speech hath other end; not to attribute
All praise to one man's fortune, which is strength-

en'd

By many hands. For instance, here is Prophilus,
A gentleman, (I cannot flatter truth,)

Of much desert; and, though in other rank,
Both Hemophil and Groneas were not missing
To wish their country's peace; for, in a word,
All there did strive their best, and 'twas our duty.
Amy. Courtiers turn soldiers? We vouchsafe
our hand;

Observe your great example.
Hemo. With all diligence.
Gron. Obsequiously and hourly.
Amy. Some repose

After these toils is needful; we must think on
Conditions for the conquer'd; they expect them.―
On!-Come, my Ithocles!

Euphr. [To Prophilus.] Sir, with your favour, I need not a supporter. Proph. Fate instructs me.

[Ereunt. Manent HEMOPHIL, detaining CHRISTALLA, and GRONEAS, PHILEMA. Christ. With me?

Phil. Indeed, I dare not stay.
Hemo. Sweet lady,

Soldiers are blunt; your lip.
Christ. Fye, this is rudeness:

You went not hence such creatures.

Gron. Spirit of valour Is of a mounting nature.

Phil. It appears so.→

I'll marry thee!

Phil. By Vulcan, you're forsworn, Except my mind do alter strangely. Gron. One word.

Christ. You lie beyond all modesty; forbear me! Hemo. I'll make thee mistress of a city, 'tis Mine own by conquest.

Christ. By petition; sue for't

In forma pauperis.-City? kennell.-Gallants,
Off with your feathers; put on aprons, gallants,
Learn to reel thrums or trim a lady's dog,
And be good quiet souls of peace, hobgoblins!
Hemo. Christalla!

Christ. Practise to drill hogs, in hope
To share in th' acorns-Soldiers? corn cutters;
But not so valiant; they oft-times draw blood,
Which you durst never do. When you have
practised

More wit, or more civility, we'll rank ye

I'th' list of men: till then, brave things at arms, Dare not to speak to us, most potent Groneas!Phil. And Hemophil the hardy! At your ser

Tec. Ah, Orgilus,

Neglects in young men of delights and life
Run often to extremities; they care not
For harms to others, who contemn their own.
Org. But I, most learned artist, am not so
much

At odds with nature, that I grudge the thrift
Of any true deserver, nor doth malice
Of present hopes so check them with despair,
As that I yield to thought of more affliction
Than what is incident to frailty: wherefore
Impute not this retired course of living
Some little time, to any other cause
Than what I justly render, the information
Of an unsettled mind; as the effect
Must clearly witness.

Tec. Spirit of truth inspire thee!

On these conditions I conceal thy change,
And willingly admit thee for an auditor.-
I'll to my study.

Org. I to contemplations,

[Exit.

In these delightful walks. Thus metamorphos'd,
I may without suspicion hearken after
Penthea's usage, and Euphrania's faith.
Love! thou art full of mystery: the deities
Themselves are not secure, in searching out
The secrets of those flames, which, hidden, waste
A breast, made tributary to the laws
Of beauty; physic yet hath never found
A remedy to cure a lover's wound. ·

Ha! who are those that cross yon private walk
Into the shadowing grove, in amorous foldings?
[PROPHILUS passeth over, supporting
EUPHRANIA, and whispering.
My sister, O my sister! 'tis Euphrania
With Prophilus, supported too; I would
It were an apparition! Prophilus

Is Ithocles his friend: it strangely puzzles me-
Again help me, my book; this scholar's habit
Must stand my privilege; my mind is busy,
Mine eyes and ears are open. [Walks by, reading.

Re-enter PROPHILUS and EUPHRANIA.
Proph. Do not waste

The span of this stolen time, lent by the gods
For precious use, in niceness. Bright Euphrania,
Should I repeat old vows, or study new,
For purchase of belief to my desires-
Org. Desires?

To my Penthea: chastely honourable.

Proph. Nor wants there more addition to my wish

Of happiness, than having thee a wife,
Already sure of Ithocles, a friend
Firm and unalterable.

Org. But a brother

More cruel than the grave.

Euph. What can you look for,

In answer to your noble protestations,
From an unskilful maid, but language suited
To a divided mind?

Org. Hold out, Euphrania!

[Aside.

Euph. Know, Prophilus, I never undervalued,
From the first time you mention'd worthy love,
Your merit, means, or person: it had been
A fault of judgment in me, and a duiness
In my affections, not to weigh and thank
My better stars, that offer'd me the grace
Of so much blissfulness. For, to speak the truth,
The law of my desires kept equal pace
With your's, nor have I left that resolution;
But only, in a word, whatever choice
Lives nearest in my heart, must first procure
Consent, both from my father and my brother,
Ere he can own me his.

Org. She is forsworn else
Proph. Leave me that task.
Euph. My brother, ere he parted

To Athens, had my oath.

Org. Yes, yes, he had sure.

Proph. I doubt not, with the means the court supplies,

But to prevail at pleasure.

Org. Very likely.

Proph. Mean time, best, dearest, I may build my hopes

On the foundation of thy constant sufferance
In any opposition.

Euph. Death shall sooner

Divorce life, and the joys I have in living,
Than my chaste vows from truth.
Proph. On thy fair hand

I seal the like.

Org. I am discover'd Say it, is it possible-
[To himself, as if studying.
With a smooth tongue, a leering countenance,
Fluttery, or force of reason I come t'you, sir,
To turn or to appease the raging sea?

Answer to that-Your art? what art to catch
And hold fast in a net the sun's small atoms?—
No, no; they'll out, they'll out; ye may as easily
Out-run a cloud, driven by a northern blast,
As fiddle-faddle so. Peace, or speak sense!
Euph. Call you this thing a scholar? 'las, he's
lunatic!

Proph. Observe him, sweet, 'tis but his re-
creation.

Org. But will you hear a little? you're so tetchy, You keep no rule in argument; philosophy Works not upon impossibilities,

But natural conclusions.-Mew!-absurd!
The metaphysics are but speculations
Of the celestial bodies, or such accidents
As, not mixt perfectly, in the air engender'd,
Appear to us unnatural; that's all.

Prove it ;-yet with a reverence to your gravity,
I'll baulk illiterate sauciness, submitting
My sole opinion to the touch of writers.
Proph. Now let us fall in with him.
Org. Ha, ha, ha!

These apish boys, when they but task the grammars,
The principles of theory, imagine
They can oppose their teachers.
Leads many into errors.

Confidence

Proph. By your leave, sir.
Euph. Are you a scholar, friend?
Org. I am, gay creature,

With pardon of your deities, a mushroom,

On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then:
The sun shines on me too, I thank his beams;
Sometimes I feel their warmth, and eat and sleep.
Proph. Does Tecnicus read to thee?
Org. Yes, forsooth;

He is my master surely: yonder door
Opens upon his study.

Proph. Happy creatures!

Such people toil not, sweet, in heats of state,
Nor sink in thaws of greatness: Their affections
Keep order with the limits of their modesty :
Their love is love of virtues.-What's thy name?
Org. Aplotes, sumptuous master, a poor wretch.
Euph. Dost thou want any thing?
Org. Books, Venus, books.

Proph. Lady, a new conceit comes in my
thought,

And most available for both our comforts.
Euph. My lord?

Proph. While I endeavour to deserve Your father's blessing to our loves, this scholar May daily, at some certain hours, attend What notice I can write of my success, Here in this grove, and give it to your hands; The like from you to me: so can we never, Barr'd ofour mutual speech,want sure intelligence; And thus our hearts may talk, when our tongues

cannot.

Euph. Occasion is most favourable; use it. Proph. Aplotes, wilt thou wait us twice-a-day At nine i'th morning, and at four at night, Here in this bower, to convey such letters As each shall send to other? Do it willingly, Safely and secretly, and I will furnish Thy study, or what else thou canst desire. Org. Jove make me thankful! thankful, I beseech thee,

Propitious Jove!-I will prove sure and trusty. You will not fail me books?

Proph. Nor aught besides,

Thy heart can wish. This lady's name's Euphránia,

Mine Prophilus.

Org. I have a pretty memory,

It must prove my best friend. I will not miss One minute of the hours appointed.

Proph. Write

The books thou would'st have brought thee in a note,

Or take thyself some money.

Org. No, no money;

Money to scholars is a spirit invisible,

We dare not finger it: or books, or nothing. Proph. Books of what sort thou wilt: do not forget

Our names.

Org. I warrant ye, I warrant ye.

Proph. Smile, Hymen, on the growth of our desires !

We'll feed thy torches with eternal fires.

[Exeunt PROPH. and EUPH. Org. Put out thy torches, Hymen, or their light Shall meet a darkness of eternal night. Inspire me, Mercury, with swift deceits! Ingenious Fate has leapt into miné arms, Beyond the compass of my brains-Mortality Creeps on the dung of earth, and cannot reach The riddles which are purpos'd by the gods. Great arts best write themselves in their own stories:

They die too basely, who out-live their glories. [Exit

It gives too full a prospect to temptation,
And courts a gazer's glances: there's a lust
Committed by the eye, that sweats and travails,
Plots, wakes, contrives, till the deformed bear-
whelp,
Adultery, be lick'd into the act,

That gaudy earwig, or my lord, your patron,
Whose pensioner you are. I'll tear thy throat out,
Son of a cat, ill-looking hounds-head, rip up
Thy ulcerous maw, if I but scent a paper,
A scroll but half as big as what can cover
A wart upon thy nose, a spot, a pimple,
Directed to my lady: it may prove
A mystical preparative to lewdness.

Phul. Care shall be had; I will turn every thread

About me to an eye.-Here's a sweet life! Bass. The city house-wives, cunning in the traffic

Of chamber merchandise, set all at price By wholesale; yet they wipe their mouths and simper,

Cull, kiss, and cry sweetheart, and stroke the head Which they have branch'd, and all is well again. Dull clods of dirt, who dare not feel the rubs Struck on their foreheads!

Phul. 'Tis a villainous world, One cannot hold his own in't.

Bass. Dames at court,

Who flaunt in riots, run another bias:
Their pleasure heaves the patient ass that suffers
Upon the stilts of office, titles, incomes;
Promotion justifies the shame, and sues for't:
Poor Honour! thou art stabb'd, and bleed'st to
death

By such unlawful hire. The country mistress
Is yet more wary, and in blushes hides

Whatever trespass draws her troth to guilt;
But all are false. On this truth I am bold,
No woman but can fall, and doth or would.-
Now for the newest news about the city;
What blab the voices, sirrah?

Phul. Moreover, please your lordship, 'tis reported

For certain, that whoever is found jealous,
Without apparent proof that's wife is wanton,
Shall be divorced: but this is but she-news;
I had it from a midwife. I have more yet.

Bass. Antick, no more! ideots and stupid fools
Grate my calamities. Why, to be fair,
Should yield presumption of a faulty soul?
Look to the doors!

Phul. The horn of plenty crest him! [Erit PHULAS. Bass. Swarms of confusion huddle in my thoughts In rare distemper. Beauty! O it is An unmatch'd blessing, or a horrid curse. Enter PENTHEA, and GRAUSIS, an old Lady. She comes, she comes; so shoots the morning forth, Spangled with pearls of transparent dew! The way to poverty is to be rich; As I in her am wealthy, but for her, In all contents a bankrupt.-Lov'd Penthea, How fares my heart's best joy?

Gra. In sooth not well,

She is so over sad.

Bass. Leave chattering, magpye.Thy brother is return'd, sweet; safe, and honour'd With a triumphant victory: thou shall visit him; We will to court, where, if it be thy pleasure, Thou shalt appear in such a ravishing lustre Of jewels above value, that the dames Who brave it there, in rage to be outshin'd, Shall hide them in their closets, and, unseen, Fret in their tears; while every wond'ring eye Shall crave none other brightness but thy presence. Choose thine own recreations, be a queen

Of what delights thou fancies best, what company, What place, what times; do any thing, do all things Youth can command, so thou wilt chase these clouds

From the pure firmament of thy fair looks. Gra. Now, 'tis well said, my lord. What, lady? laugh,

Be merry, time is precious.

Bass. Furies whip thee!

Penth. Alas, my lord! this language to your
handmaid

Sounds as would music to the deaf: I need
No braveries, nor cost of art, to draw
The whiteness of my name into offence.
Let such, if any such there are, who covet
A curiosity of admiration,

By laying out their plenty to full view,
Appear in gawdy outsides; my attires
Shall suit the inward fashion of my mind;
From which, if your opinion, nobly plac'd,
Change not the livery your words bestow,
My fortunes with my hopes are at the highest.
Bass. This house, methinks, stands somewhat
too much inward;

It is too melancholy, we'll remove
Nearer the court; or, what thinks my Penthea
Of the delightful island we command ?
Rule me as thou canst wish.