ADRASTA

Observe him good my Lord, and let your eye Be jealous now — Must it be so? Have all those lavish signs Of undeserved favours heaped on you By your too careful father, and our self, Been spurs to your contempt? Or could the sweets Of our affection prodigally cast, Make you not relish what your duty owes? Else did you think because they always ran In such and unchecked current to your will, That no ingratitude could make the ebb? Oh impious times! wherein a parents care, When she has combated the pangs of death To give her children life; stood all her time Like to a careful Centinel for their youth, And spent the nights in pensive watchfulness, (Forcing soft nature to forbear her rest) To plot their good; must all be frustrated? And by a child's proud will see all things crossed? Their Parents Hope's, and their own Fortune's lost? How hath our love to thee? our wishes toiled To built thy passage to a higher sphere, And by some noble match to raise thy House, And must thy base attempts look downward still? Mongrel our blood? and set a lasting scar Upon our progeny, by fixing thus Thy stubborn passion on base Iulia's child? Has Athens taught you be and Orator? Degenerous boy, I'll cool your virtuous flame, And make thee rue the baseness of thy choice. Exit. Come good Alastor! be but secret now, And I shall live endeared unto thy faith; The matter much imports us; and in case That my rewards should die with me, the State Will one day thank thee for't. I have his seal, His hand and style exactly counterfeit: Then hear thy charge; Thou must this evening haste Covertly to the Lady Iulia's house— But canst be secret? Well then; make means to speak there with Althea, Tell her thou comest from Lord Lucilio, Who in important business has employed thee; I know shee'll take thy message privately: Deliver her this letter; seem that Lucilio Has none but thee on whom he can rely In this so dangerous and enterprise: She upon this will-bee more free and open To the design: then mark her, good Alastor! Observe each word and gesture that she uses; If thou canst wring a look that may discover But a consenting thought, it will suffice: For when offending lives withstand our will, We must seem good, though we determine ill. exit. Yet good my Lord respect your falling State, Let not that watchful eye that never slept In careful pursuit of your peoples good, As now regardless of your houses Honour, Be dazzled with imaginary fear Of mere supposed injustice. Shall foul mouthed rumor. Besprinkle our whole raze with Iulia's blood, And follow it into posterity As a live witness of your lose neglect? Methinks those politic rules of government Which you have studied, should at last inform Your scrupulous conscience, making it to know, What oft does seem injustice, is not so. They highly offend that let their Countries good. It's gilded to live when as their death's may buy it. No price is great that makes Kings fortunate. Who stays till Virtue lifts will never rise; And therefore dearest Lord by those chaste vows Which first I brought unto your nuptial bed; By that attractive beauty which mine eyes Once gave your youthful thoughts to feed upon, Prevent this mischief, let the strumpet die, Whose baseness stains your ever princely blood, By sitting sole Commandress in the thoughts Of our degenerate son, the only hope Just heaven and nature now has left your Throne. Let not that God of fools, soft Conscience, then, That seldom finds a name amongst perfect Statesmen, Sway your experienced wisdom, but provide Your honour live, when all your self have died. Leave that to me; I have procured from her A letter, whose points but changed transfer the sense, This in the public Sessions being read, And she acknowledging the hand and seal, Will be a most sufficient testimony Of traitorous attempts against your State And person, which the gross multitude Will never scan, but confidently, hold Her condemnation just. Good Micale I was unfortunate I had not known thy skill and used it sooner; For since Heavens power denies me just revenge And means, to work my will, I'll search the depth Of hels darkest Angels, but I will dissolve That firm linked band of love: and to that end Shrouded in this disguise I came to thee That thou mayest let some nimble spirit slip From out the powerful Circle after her; And with thy spells pursue her unto death. I will. Exit Duchess. Mic. Sarvia! Sar. Mother! Mic. Take thy flight While the Moon affords thee light, While the Dogstar shines downright On the powerful Aconite, And the Herbs appear in sighed. Sar. Away and wash your body white In the spring, and cleanse you quite, For I'll soon the Shepherd fright, And bring home to mend the right A female Lamb as black as night. Mic. Haste then, quick retune thee home. Do not though forget the stone In the Toad, nor Serpents bone, Nor the Mandrake though he groan, Pull him up, he is our own. Sar. I'll steal beside (let me alone) The great black Cat from jumping Jone, And make the Nurse and Mother moan When their fatlings throat is shown: Mic. Haste then, quick return thee home. Now tell us Micale What Sacrifice was that held you so long, And would not admit our presence? How do you point the forms which they assume? What Spirit is this? What is this? It's a familiar Spitit, methinks I could be acquainted with her—But who is this? Speak to him good Micale, and let him know our but sinesse. But how shall we procure her death? Thanks gentle Micale, for thou hast eased me much, I'll not forget thy pains, nor leave thy skill Without regard, for we have much to know. I must hasten then Least some misfortune do discover me: Farewell Micale, hell prosper our design. Wrong not her worth good Madam, the power of death Is weak to stain her name, and we were blessed. If such perfection, joined unto our Blood, Had with our son succeeded in the Throne Of this unhappy and dejected State. Believe me Madam I did ever love Althea's Virtues, and was inly glad When by that Stratagem my son had freed Her innocence (as I protest I thought) And wished her escape as safe from that injustice As could my heart desire. My son my Lord, my son! More known by's ghost, then if his living form Had met mine eyes: o speak to him my Lord! Oh we are blessed beyond desert!