YOUNG FITZWATERS

Always at hand, thy carefulness is great: Where is thy Lady? So early, then I see loves the best lark; For the Corn builder has not warbled yet His morning's Carol to the rising Sun. There's for thy pains. Our Father's present; Sweet, we are betrayed. If I could fear the waving of a Sword, Mine enemies had frighted me ere now; But I'm invaluable, Like my mind, Not to be wounded but with darts of love; And I as little estimate a Father In these Pathaires, as he esteems my grief. There's no preoritie in loves high Court Granted unto the Fathers' before the Son; But Like the purest government of all, Every men mind is his own Monarchy: Where reason never set foot to make a law, Shall common sense keep one, that were absurd. Not if you will forbear me; But in a war defensive I will stand Against and Army of my Ancestors, Did their enfranchised souls break open their tombs, And reassumed their bodies as they lived, In their full pride and youthful jollity. I live with joy, that I'm no Father-killer. This is extreme. How am I crossed! Yet I have all the world to traffic in, Except in England, and your Honoues house: But as the dissolution of the soul From such a body as desires to love, Is burdensome and grievous to the man; Such is my heart dissevered from my Love. Careless of foes, of father, or his curse, Come I again to challenge Floramell, Which I suspect the Steward has betrayed. He that is once false, will be never true. Well, proecede. Meet me at York house. I am yours in all things that are honourable. I do. Exit Young Fythwaters. Nor I. I need no buckler. Theyle never be honest. But noble Artoise, now the fire is giuea The Cannon must go off. I know not by what influence I am fallen Into the affection of this potent Queen: But she has sworn she loves me as her soul: And to enjoy me in her amorous Bed, Would spend the revenues of the Crown of France Were it her own: I'll temporize with her, To effect some plot upon my Sovereigns foes, But she shall know, Although she love me well, My hearts desires were drowned with Floramell. 'Tis she, O no, she's in the Ocean drowned, No; She escaped it seems as well as I. But I will take no acquaintance of my Love, Till she has cleerd her from the Queens suspect. The deceit is yours. You are cruel to impose a curse upon me, That sentence is extreme, I feel it work. More deadly on my grieved faculties, Then to have died upon my father's sword: For now mine own woes must destroy my self. And thats a murder worse then parricide. Exit Y. Fit. The stay of my fair Mistress makes me wild, Sure I shall never more behold her face; The Stewards false, and Floramell may change. I'll therefore give a perjod to my grief, And in despair finish what life denies: Yet ere I die, let all the World this know, A Woman's love procured my overthrow. My Floramell, to Sea. Exeunt. Since I was cast upon this fatal Rock, And saw my Love dissevered by the waves, And my kind Steward in the Ocean drowned, Here I have lived, fed only with raw Fish, Such as the Sea yields: and each Ship I see, (As daily there are some furrow this way) I call unto for aid, but never the near. Once asked me, What I was? I answered him, And Englishman. Quoth he, Stay there and starve. To the next that passed, I said I was a French-borne. I'll aid no French quoth he. Unto a third, That I a Spaniard was. He bade me hang : So that I know not what I ought to say, Nor whom to speak to: but in happy time, From this high Rock, I see a tall Ship come, Furnished with all his Sails; and as it ploughs The Ocean up, it raises hills of snow, That fly on both sides as they did give way, To make a valley for the Ship to pass. Their Captain as I think looks upon me, And has took notice of my waving hand. Now the Ship turnesand this way ploughs amain, As if it meant to run it self aground: In happy time, now I shall be relieved. Your answer there? In the honourable intercourse of men I should do so, and were you in my case, You would enforce your own necessity. I would be as thou art, proud of nothing. As it anchors here It bears a goodly show; but launched again, And a stormerise, it may be cast aland As I have been: nay worse, it may may be sunk, And then what is't, but a fair something, nothing? What is, and now is not; men life, or a dream, Now swimming, and then swallowed in the stream. And sword but that the Sea devoured it. I would change your mind From this erroneous and ill boding thought, Because of late you freed me from the rock, But if it be so hurtful to your sighed Be your own death, I'll not reveal my mind. According to your Majesties command, I come to know your pleasure for the Letter I should deliver to the English King, With that base strumpet that has Injured you. And you the prisoner to be safe locked up, For your incontinence and wanton life. So confident, her innocence is great, That can do this sincerely without tricks: But if you be the same that you would seem, How comes that your reputations grown, Into such scandal, and your name the theme, Of every idle fellow in the Court? That Grooms report, fair Infortunate is: The French Kings love; Nay worse his concubine. The voice of men is held the voice of God: And where and evil is so far proclaimde, The generality approves the gilded, And she's unworthy to survive a minute, To be the separation of two hearts, Made one by Marriage. But you did kiss the King. Rise, rise, hereafter the discourse I'll tell, Mean time Fytzwaters welcomes Floramell. Runs the stream this way, is the wind turned thus? In sighed of Heaven I vow She is as chaste for any lust from me, As unborn Infants, and I use her love, But to acuance my soueraig e and his Realm. No other case by honour I p oh e to, In sign whereof I oppose n innocent breast Against the sword: if you believe not, kill, But never man died for a lesser ill. To their great service, greater I oppose, And do beseech your Highness wrong me not. Father's both she shall not. All lets are now removed, I am truly happy. As you are men, and therefore may be crossed, Be favourable to a wretched man: Know, that the Sea has cast me on this place, Where I have led a discontented life, Ere since the last storm, and no passenger Has taken pity to remove me hence. Though food I want not, cause the sea yields sish, I would be shifted to a better place. My name's Fitzwaters, by my birth a Lord: My natural residence in England was, Some of your company I have often seen, Set me aland where dwell inhabitants, And thankfully I will require your love. Not unto all, but only to you two: Why should the Earl and I born a Lords son, Join with a pair of base companions, In such a weighty cause as a Kings death: I know yowl say you have been physicians, Sailer, and Soldiers, and in such disguise, Done some exploit that have deserved respect, I grant as much, but yet your births are mean. No gentry in your bloold was ever known By natural Heraldry, your low descents Disables us, and we must seek to rise, With others of our own condition. That were the engrossing of the same from us And so you would have all the thanks your selves: Neither commixed with us, nor yet alone, Shall it be acted, but as we are the best In brith, and ablity to do it, Weel have the privilege of doing it: To your betters. Or having fit place, Artoise and my self, Will kill you first, then cast you in the River. Now you come near me, but that secrets mine, And seeking I you must dig through my heart, Or it will never e found, it lies so close. Only to me, that will perform't alone. Thinks Artoise those were slain cause they are base? Or that I wrought you to assist my plot, Because you are of the Nobility? No, I have still this Maxim in my thoughts, That a Competitor, though never so Noble, Takes away half the same in every thing: I could have opened this unto you all, But that I thought my self too weak for three: And therefore providently used thy strength, To kill them first, that I might slay thee after. Now they are dead, thy life must follow theirs, And so I share the honour to my self: I will be Palsgrave, Marquess Brandenburgh, And the Bohemian King in me alone, Caesar shall write himself three Friends in one. Wilt thou turn honest? Here is my tro h-plight with e, Freer from that soul imputation, Then is her Majesty from jealousy. I'll lead you thither. I wrong me, may not King do wrong? Or dare you think because you are my Father, I'll lose my wife. Which I entreat upon a du jous knee.