ALBOVINE

Let my Horse-guard bring up the Rear. We'll sport With war. We have no use of safety now, But of magnificence. My Boy, I bring thee home my chief Trophy: Thou dost delight me more then victory. Retire. I am in love too violent. My embraces crush thee, thou art but yet Of tender growth— Her name does enrich our Language. My boy Can witness that I love her: she makes me Prattle in my sleep: I've drunk Mandragora, To become drowzy, in hope that I might Dream of her. Rise, and expect Honour. Th'ast done me justice, Governor, & knowest The way to make me thankful, but not proud. I understand thou hast with honoured safety Preserved those Jewels to thy charge committed, (My Rhodolinda, and my Boys Valdaura. ) And so increased new motives of our thanks. Let now the knotty Laborer rust with ease, And aloud proclaim, that the upland Boor Release his Teem, and his industrious Plough. Let him sing glad Iös to the rustic Powers that guard his fields, and unto me. Paradine? Inform him of my deeds. Thou hast beheld my discipline full of Shape and order, when confusion did oppress The foe, and stifled them in throngs. Hah! Look! Rhodolinda is come to guild our Triumph! Let his ashes rest At quiet in their Urn. His ghost long since Hath washed away the memory of his fate In slow-pac'd Laethe. Take me, modest fair, Into thy bosom. Oh hide me there! My glad soul, how full is thy content? Now thou feared thing, that guidest the heavenly Em pire, Rend all the murmuring clouds, and dart Thy Thunder at me: I am safe. Thou hast showed me physic for my passion. Take him, Valdaura, and be proud! 'Tis I That love him: nor shall your joys be single. I'll make the number yet more full. This day We'll consecrate to Hymen's use. Behold Your Queen (who though my Captive) for her birth And beauty, is the first of Queens. Do, weep! then on my heartstrings I will thread Thy tears in stead of Pearl: such a wealthy Bracelet, love would present unto his Queen: And she tuck up her sleeves, to show her gawdy wrists. More wine! Bring us the Bowl of Victory. Hence! I shall delight in fury! Welcome, the horrid Trophy of my chief war! Rhodolinda, I'll try thy fortitude. This was thy Father's Skull: thou shalt pledge a health Unto his Ghost. He drinks all rise up. Tame, feeble Soul! Will she not pledge What we do celebrate? Return her person— By heaven a good old man! if he be learned, I'll have him write my Annals. I could gaze thus on thee, till my wonder Did convert me into marble; and yet My soul would in her self retain a fire, Lively as that which bold Prometheus stole. Were the Sea coagulate, and the world Returned to the antic Chaos, a blind Lump; Thy look would force the warring elements Into a sacred order; and beget A harmony Like this they now enjoy. Yet when I value thus thy excellence, Let me not forget my own high being. I've humbled all the Nations of the earth; Brought home as spoils the whole wealth of Nature: Yet, Rhodolinda, nought Like thee. Let me Whisper my content, for soft music most Delights the female ear. They walk aside. How now, Boy! Is my interest so decayed In your young person, that you give away your self Without my leave! Hermegild, thy free heart adds to our triumph! Wouldst have thy Soul dismissed a natural way? I never met with boldness, until now! My courage is quite puzzled! Sure, thou art some spirit! I cannot kill thee! Hermegild sat chief in the Committee For division of those Lands: bid him reward Your service: beside, I mistake the custom, Or 'tis my Treasurers office to pay My debts, not mine. Do not interrupt my marriage Rites! Would thou Wertenberg dead! Fit, my Rhodolinda : This is thy Sphere! In absence of the Sun, we must receive Our light from thee. Paradine, thy Bride expects Thy service. Hermegild, make your anger known, For else your frowns will cause your loyalty To be suspected. This night should be as smooth And pleasant, as that to which we owe our blessed Nativity. Boy, this was a bold crime. You must not give Me cause to chide my found heart. Valdaura, Urge him to proffer friendship Unto Hermegild ; you are powerful Over his nature. I have deserved to loose My chief prerogative— This embracement is a sacrifice To thee my Queen: whose deity Consists of love. Fit, and with your Persons, straight entrench the Table. Some wine! Fill in my Germane Plate; I'll drink as when I'm hight with victory. This to my Bride— More wine, and noise! Now Boy, I celebrate Valdaura's health — This is legitimate blood of the rich Corsick Grape: precious as thy tears (My Royal Girl) when thou art penitent To heaven. Whilst the King talks, they drink. Shall the world bleed? but frown, and thou renewest A Chaos. Malign the pride of some far Eastern Queen, whom Travellers belly, And I will forage there, Like loud thunder! Or Like the Northern wind upon the Main, Where lazy Hulks are tossed Like chips. I'll do't. 'Tis thought, I am immortal. The chief of my great Ancestors, that made A wild incursion over this fertile soil, Was but a tipe of me. More wine! — Thy breath Is as the smoke of spices. I taste thy Melting lips, and straight engender kisses. Heart! Boy, you are too ravenous! Is not your name Pigwiggin? Nor I the King of Fairies. God's-light, sir, d'ye Present me with a Cup, made, o'th bottom Of and Akehorne, or Queen Mabbs Thimble? Fill me a bowl, where I may swim, And bath my head, then rise Like Phœbus from The Ocean, shaking my dewy Locks. A health to Caesars memory. Boy, do me Justice, or thou afrontst my Triumph! Now thou whisperest Like the amorous Lute! I am the Broom of Heaven, when ̄ World grows foul, I'll sweep the Nations into'th Sea, Like dust. Thy father was magnanimous, and great King of the Girpides. Yet his title Sat not so nobly on him, as my conquest. Know, his unkind fate, was his chief glory: For it was I that slew him; and thou his Captived Daughter art my Queen. Paradine, do not resist my pleasure. I'll crush thee into Air. So pale and timorous! I'll sooner couple With a Mandrake, and beget groans. Hah! Am I alone? Have they all left me? Where is my Empire? Do I govern in The vacant Air? None shall be proud but I. My smiles revive The dead: but when I frown, the living straight Melt into Ghosts. She's lost, my Boy: blown from my fist: her wings Have gathered wind: they fly (Like those of Time) Swiftly forward, but never back return. Is it a sin to drink? Nature has given To fish a prerogative, greater Then we enjoy. They can ever tipple And not be drunk. Slave! thy mirth is treacherous! Paradine! Thou hast consumed to night the wealth of love, Wasted thy lips in moist kisses, embraced A warmth, that would give life to marble. While I, (Like the solitary Phoenix) Expect no heat but in my funeral flame: And strive engender of my self. Yet Boy, Thou canst not make me envious; thou art more Delightful; then my Rodolinda's sins. Let me survey those blue circles: his lids Fallen down, as if weighty Plummets hung on Their sins. Thou art not temperate. Preserve Thy deer eyes. Love was pictured blind, because It makes men blind. I hug thee as my health — Hermegild, thy aspect shows ominous! How thrives our embassy? Harsh, Iron, nature! He that drinks, forfeits his mortality! Soldier, to keep thy bladder moist, I will Permit thee gape i'th morning's face, and catch Her mizzling tears. Good! we will embark for Sea. I press thee up For this employment. Thou grumblest Like a grey Wolf. Art thou not yet dead? Be powerful in thy speech, my Paradine, Yet gentle too. She is the Star that rules My faculties. Hermegild, wear thy senses near us— I hate these Iiggeries. Yet I am loving in my drink. Rhodolinda does so engross my love, That on other Ladies I've but little To bestow. If they would soften Rhodolinda's heart, And reconcile me to her smiles, I would Grow found, and dally then with all the Sex. I shall be taught to spin, and starch! You're devout, Vauldaura. Teach me to pray: We have no leisure for't in war; and it has Been long time out of fashion here in Court. You teach me now, excuse my own abrupt Demeanour; but I can doe't. My harsh Queen (Whom the perspicuous Eye of heaven forgive) Does much mistake the posture of my limbs, And gesture of my tongue among your Sex. I never use, Like rugged Polypheame, To dandle Cubs. Thus, I can gently touch A Ladies lips—yet make no battery on Her teeth. Was it not and airy pressure? Tell my proud Queen, I've lost my Iron garb, And now am grown thus found and smooth. I, but in vain! Those clouds must weep apace, That mean to penetrate the Marble, or The Flint. I wear no Gauntlet on my hand, Why should you think that I would bruise Your fingers with my touch— Sports with her hand. You must inform the Queen of this: Say, I Am smooth, and musical, and trim, and that I talk no more of war, nor drink. It is a piece of courtship to salute At parting— Kisses her. exit Valdaura. Hell and death! What raw discipline is this? I should conduct her in her way— Exit. He looks Like a watchman in that Rug. Let us retire between arras, and we Shall share, ith'whole discovery. He groans. A rare Adage. He will show fine tricks anon! How prompt the Slave is, in is metamorphosis? Thou old ravenous Goat! Hast thou deserved and easier sentence? Oh what a trivial exit shall I make From my own world? for when I die, I die For love. Hermegild, iterate now thy sweet raptures. Speak to her; for, by the gentle carriage of Her eyes, I do perceive she begins to penetrate. I'm much obliged to that good soul. Honest Hermegild? That's compliment! When I am more my Chronicle, or speak My deeds with pride, may my tongue blister, till't Infect my breath with Epidemick-heate. I'm soon overcome in this soft war. 'Sdeath all Can thaw but I. I never wept, but when Unruly wind blue in my eyes; and 'tis No argument for stern battle: else I Would fight. To testify the joy my soul Conceives, I'll drink— Fill me a Bowl with Negro's blood, congealed Even into Livers! Tell her, Hermegild, I'll swallow Tar, to celebrate her health! I must go learn to compliment. Dost hear? Is't fit I proffer her to mingle limbs—Thou knowest— I do obey. Though I have thoughts would feign Persuade me to rebellion. Hah! Paradine ! What witty emblem's this? The more to certify thy love, dost thou Appear blind. He is drunk! Maudlin drunk! By heaven drunk with Cider, or with thin Beer; That looks Like the urine of a Babe: I'm sure The Corsic Grape infuseth no Such whining passion. Hah! This is a sober passion, but implies Something that is horrid. Houle, meager Wolves! empty Tigers! let the hoarse Thracian Bull bellow, till he rend his throat; And the hight mountaine-Lion roar, until Their clamour wake the dead. The resurrection Is too long delayed, since we want horror To celebrate this news. Good! I have now Decreed it. Draw thy bright weapon!— That we may meet in single battle here, And struggle till we want our Souls. Oh found, indulgent Boy! I mourn at this Decay of thy humanity and sense. Does it become my great being, and my Glorious name in story, to offend Without resistance? Draw: and be nimble In thy motion— 'Tis time that I were dead, for I shall else Outlive my chief prerogative. I have Forgotten how to command. Unsheath thy Sword! Or this breach of Duty shall teach me think, I never enjoyed thy real love, and 'twas Not a mistake, that ushered thee to sin between My sheets, but a considerate lust— Why dost thou dally thus with feeble motion? Bear up! and use more violence! 'Thast performed, what my wish did prophecy: I'm pricked here, about the heart; and my veins Grow empty. Hold, Paradine. 'Tis my last suit, that thou survive To minister a joust revenge on those Whom I proscribe, help my quivering Limbs, And seat me in the Chair— 'Twere in me and affectation trivial To cherish life, now Rhodolinda's false. For should I still preserve my soul in flesh, I know my mercy is so found to her; I should forgive her all: and Wertenberg thou dead, My hope were then deprived of future justice. Live to revenge her falsehood. I know thy heart So sincere and noble, that I suspect not thee A sharer in her gilded. When thou Didst first confess th'adulterous crime, joined with Thy own mistake, through Hermegilds deep Art, My faith conceived the truth: for thy Nature Is much too blunt, and credulous for Court. Contain thy breath! To hear that told, would make My soul wander in my last journey. till thy relation brought it to my Ear, I never knew her false. My knowledge only learned it of thy Tongue. Never. Angels in that, are not more free from gilded. I cannot gripe the Air. Mark how it steals Through all my knotty Fingers— Now my last, and short minute is arrived; I do, resign my Crown— To him I hate. But be thou sure, he wear It not Till near his death: for it's a happiness To live enthroned, but 'tis not safe to die A King. Let the Drum cease! I'll have no more battles. He that to waste his trivial rage, does fight A battle, rides a Hawking with the devil. He sends a thousand drinking Animals To take their flight ith' air, while little black Devils (d'ye not see they?) They look Like Ravens. Mark how they prey on those immortal Foul, And plume they in their Talents! I do not Like This Falconry: it is too sad a game For sinners—O, o, o!— Die. But why (my beauteous Captive) art thou still In Sables wrapped? Governor! 'Tis our will that you expect Honour, and true safety. Your Cities love I shall perceive by popular noise, and your Behaviour in this great solemnity. Let the Sun smile; the Wind sport with our Plumes! This day let sick-men too forget to groan. Let all glad Hymns in one mixed concord found, And make the echoing heaven your mirth rebound. I dare not strike thee (old man) lest thou shouldst fallen To dust, and choke me. Suspect must now be rash. Make your face known! He blushes Like a Bride; whom through her thin Curtains, the peeping Sun beholds in soft Skirmish with her Lord. I must counterfeit, And seem to know all. Paradine, 'twas far From my conjecture, that a heart so much Obliged unto my love as thine, should wrong My Honour in a sense, which but to mould In words would teach my tongue to stammer, and Deafen all that hear it.