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THE
TRAGEDY
OF HOFFMAN
OR
A Reuenge for a Father.

As it hath bin diuers times acted
with great applause, at the Phenix
in Druery-lane.

LONDON,
Printed by I. N. for Hugh Perry, and are to bee
sold at his shop, at the signe of the Harrow
in Brittaines-burse, 1631.

[A2r]

TO HIS MVCH Honored Friend, Master Richard Kiluert

Sir

I know you, and in that your worth which I honour more, then greatness in a Patron: this Tragedy hapning into my hand, I haue now aduentured it vnto the Presse, and wanting both a Parent to owne it, and a Patron to protect it, am fayne to Act the Fathers part, and haue aduentured to addresse it vnto your Worthy selfe; vnder whose wings it flyes for a new birth: it hath passed the Stage already with good applause, and I doubt not, but from you it shall receiue a kinde welcome, who haue alwaies bin a true Fauourer of Artes and Learning; and from your selfe I haue receiued so many noble curtesies, that I shall alwayes rest

Yours to command HVGH PERRY

[B1r]

The Tragedy of Hoffman

Enter Hoffman

Hoffman.

Hence Clouds of melancholy

Ile be no longer subiect to your sismes,

But thou deare soule, whose nerues and artires

In dead resoundings summon vp reuenge,

And thou shalt hate, be but appeas'd sweete hearse

The dead remembrance of my liuing father

strikes ope a cur-taine where ap-peares a body.

And with a hart as aire, swift as thought

I'le excuse iustly in such a cause

Where truth leadeth, what coward would not fight

Ill acts moue some, but myne's a cause is right

thunder and lightning.

See the powers of heauen in apparitions

And fight full aspects as insenced

That I thus tardy am to doe an act

which iustice and a fathers death exites,

Like threatening meteors antedates destruction.

thunder

Againe I come, I come, I come,

Bee silent thou effigies of faire virtue

That like a goodly syon wear't pluckt vp

By murderous, winds, infectious blasts and gusts

[B1v]

I will not leaue thee, vntill like thy selfe,

I'ue made thy enemies, then hand in hand

Wee'le walke to paradise —— againe more blest

Ile to yon promonts top, and their suruey,

What shipwrackt passengers the belgique sea

Casts from her fomy entrailes by mischance.

Roare sea and winds, and with celestiall fires,

Quicken high proiects, with your highest desires.

Enter Lorrique.

Lo.

Yet this is somewhat like, but brambles, you are to busie, were I at Luningberge, and you catcht me thus, I should goe neere to aske you at whose suit, but now I am out of sent, And feare no seriants, for I thinke these woods and waters are common wealthes that need no such subiects nay they keepe not a Constable at sea, but a mans ouerwhelmd without order. —— Well, dry land I loue thee, though thou swarme with millions of deuourers, yet hast thou no such swallow as the sea.

Hoff.

Thou lyest, there liues vpon the earth more beasts

With wide deuouring throates, then can bee found

Of rauenous fishes in the Ocean:

The huge Leuiathan is but a shrimpe

Compar'd with our Balena on the land

Lo.

I am of your mind; but the Whale has a wide mouth

To swallow fleeting waters, and poore fish,

But we haue Epicures and Cormorants,

Whom neyther sea, nor land can hardly serue

They feed them fat, while armes and honour starue,

Desart lookes pale as death, like those bare bones.

Lo.

Ha —— amazd.

Hoff.

Seest thou them trembling, slaue heere were Armes?

That seru'd the troath lesse state of Luningberge.

Lo.

So doe I sir serue the dukes sonne of the state,

Hoff.

Ha, ha, I laugh to see how dastard feare

Hastens the death doomd wretch to his distresse,

[B2r]

Say didst thou serue the duke of Luningberge.

Lo.

His sonne Otho sir, I'me a poore follower of his

And my master is ayring of himselfe at your Cell,

Hoff.

Is he that scapt the wracke young Luningberg?

Lo.

I sir, the same sir, you are in the right sir.

Hoff.

Reuenge I kisse thee, vengeance y'are at liberty,

Wouldst thou hauing lost a father as I haue,

Whose very name dissolues my eyes to teares

Could duty and thy loue so different proue,

Not to auenge his death whose better part

Was thine, thou his, when he fell part of thee

Fell with him each drop, being part thine owne

And wouldst not be reveng'd;

Lor.

Yes on the murtherer,

Hoff.

On him, or anie man that is assied

Has but one ounce of blood, of which hees part

He was my father, my hart still bleeds

Nor can my wounds be stopt, till an incision,

I'ue made to bury my dead father in:

Therefore without protraction, sighing, or excuses

Sweare to be true, to ayd assist me, not to stirre

Or contradict me in any enterprise

I shall now vndertake, or heareafter.

Lor.

I sweare.

Hoff.

Were I perswaded that thou couldst shed teares,

As doth the Egyptian serpents neere the Nile;

If thou wouldst kisse and kill, imbrace and stabbe,

Then thou shouldst liue, for my inuictiue braine

Hath cast a glorious proiect of reuenge

Euen as thou kneel'st, wilt thou turne villaine speake.

Lor.

Oh sir when was I otherwise, from my creation nothing else, I was made of no other stuffe, villany is my onely patrimony: though I bee an irreligious slaue, yet I beare a religious name, though I want courage, yet in talke, I'le put them all downe, though I haue nothing in me that is good: Yet i'le ——

[B2v]

Hoff.

Forbeare thy Lord is comming ile go in

And royally prouide for such a Prince,

Say thou hast met the kindest host aliue,

One that adores him, with no lesse zeale

Then rich men gold, or true religious heauen

Dissemble cunningly, and thou shalt prooue

the minion of my thoughts, friend to my loue.

Exit.

Lor.

Well sir ne're feare me this is an excellent fellow

A true villaine fitter for me then better company,

This is Hannce Hoffmans sonne. that stole downe his fathers Anotamy from the gallowes at Leningberge, I 'tis the same vpon the dead scull ther's the iron Crowne that burnt his braines out, what will come of this, I neyther know nor care: but here comes my lord.

Enter Otho.

How chers my most noble, my most honorable, my most gracious; yea my most grieued prince.

Otho

A fearefull storme

Lor.

And full of horror.

Otho

Trust me Lorrique besides the inlie griefe

That swallowes my content when I perceiue

How greedily the feirce vnpitying sea, and waues,

Deuour'd our friends another trouble greeues my vexed eyes

With gashtly apperitions, strange aspects

Which eyther I doe certainely behold

Or else my soule deuming some sad fate

Fills my maginary powers with shapes

Hidious and horrid.

Lor.

My lord let your hart haue no commerce with that

Mart of idle imaginations, rouse vp your noblenesse

To apprehend comfort, kindnesse ease and what otherwise

Entertain'd so sollitary a place as this, can the

Antient subiect of the state of Leningberg collect

Tis I take it the sonne to that Viz-admirall that

Turn'd a terrible pirate.

Otho

Let vs turne backe into the sea againe

[B3r]

Yealding our bodies to the ruthles sound

That hath diuided vs and our late friends

Rather then see choyce Hoffman.

Lor.

Corrage braue Otho, hee'l vse thee kindly.

Enter Hoffman.

Heere he comes, sweete host heere is the dukes heire of

Leningberge doe homage and after entertaine him and me his

Follower with the most conspictious pleasures

That lies in thy poore hability.

Hoff.

Before I speake to my most sacred Lord

I ioyne my soft lipps to the sollid earth

And with an honord bennison I blesse

The hower, the place, the time of your arriue

For now my sauadge life, lead amongst beasts

Shalbe turn'd ciuell by your gratious helpe

Otho

I see thy true hearts loue drope downe in teares

And this imbrace shewes I am free from feares

My disturb'd blood runnes smoothly through my veines

And I am bold to call thee friend, bold to intreate

Food for by wrack I haue lost ship, friends and meat.

Hoff.

You that attend my Lord enter the caue

Bring forth the homely Cakes theis hands prepar'd

While I intreat his excellence sit downe

Villaine bring nothing but a burning Crowne.

Exit.

Otho

What's that thou bidst him bring, a burning Crowne

Hoff.

Still you suspect my harmelesse inocence

What though your father with the power state

And your iust vncle duke of Brusia

After my father had in thirty fights

Fill'd all their treasures with fomens spoyles

And payd poore souldiors from his treasury

What though for this his merrits he was nam'd

A prescript out law for a little debt

Compeld to flie into the Belgique sound

And liue a pirate.

Otho

Prithee speake no more

[B3v]

Thou raysest new doubts in my troubled heart

By repetition of thy fathers wrongs

Hoff.

Then hee was wrong'd you graunt but not by you,

You vertuous gentleman

Sate like a iust Iudge of the vnder-shades,

And with an vnchang'd Rhadamantine looke,

Beheld the fresh mangled with many scars

Par'd from the bones of my offended father

And when hee was a bare anatomy,

You saw him chain'd vnto the common gallowes.

Otho

Hoffman.

Hoff.

Nay heare me patiently kind Lord

My innocent youth as guilty of his sinne,

Was in a dungeon hidden from the sunne,

And there I was condemn'd to endlesse night

Except I past my vow neuer to steale

My fathers fleshles bones from that base tree

I know not who it was, I guesse your mother,

She kneeld and wept for me, (but you did not)

Beseeching from that vow I might be freed

Then did I sweare if Nations forraigne power

Compel'd me to take downe those naked bones

I neuer would release them from those chaines

Neuer intombe them, but immediately

Remoue them from that gallowes to a tree

I kept mine oath: looke Luningberg; tis done

Behold a father hang'd vp by his sonne

Otho

Oh horrible aspect murtherer stand off

I know thou meanst mee wronge

Hoff.

My Lord behold these pretious twines of light

Burnt out by day eclipst when as the sunne

For shame obscur'd himselfe this deed was done

Where none but schrich owles sung, thou receptacle

thou —— —— organ of the soule;

Rest, goe rest, and you most louely Couplets

Leggs and armes reside, for euer heere

[B4r]

This is my last farewell, what doe you weepe?

Otho

Oh Lorrique I am betrayd, slaue touch me not

Hoff.

Not touch thee? yes, and thus trip downe thy pride.

You pla'ct my father in a Chaire of state:

This earth shall bee your throne, villaine come forth

Enter Lorrique.

And as thou mean'st to saue thy forfeit life,

Pixe on thy Masters head my burning Crowne,

While in these Cords, I in eternall bands

Binde fast his base and coward trembling hands.

Otho

Lorrique, art thou turn'd villaine to my life.

Lor.

He turne any thing sir rather then nothing, I was taken life promist to betray you, and I loue life so well, that I would not loose it for a Kingdome, for a Kings Crowne, an Empire.

Hoff.

On with the Crowne.

Otho

Oh tortor aboue measure.

Hoff.

My father felt this paine when thou hadst pleasure.

Otho

Thy father dyed for piracy.

Ho.

Oh peace, had he bin iudge himselfe, he would haue shew'd

He had bin clearer then the Christall morne!

But wretches sentenc'd neuer finde defence,

How euer guiltlesse bee their innocence,

No more did hee, no more shalt thou, no ruth

Pittied his winter age, none helps thy youth.

Otho

Oh Lorrique tortor, I feele an Ætna burne

Within my braines, and all my body else

Is like a hill of Ice, all these Belgique seas

That now, surround vs cannot quench this flame

Death like a tyrant seazeth me vnawares,

My sinewes shrinke like leaues parcht with the sunne

My blood dissolues, nerues and tendons fayle

Each part's disioynted, and my breath expires

Mount soule to heauen, my body burnes in fire.

Lor.

Hee's gon.

Hoff.

Goe let him come Lorrique

This but the prologue to the'nsuing play,

[B4v]

The first step to reuenge, this seane is donne

Father I offer thee thy murtherers sonne.

Exeunt,

Florish. Enter Ferdinand, Rodorick, Lodowick, Mathias, Lucibet, Ierom, Stilt, attendants.

Ferd.

Princes of Saxony and Austria,

Though your owne words are of sufficient weight

To iustifie the honorable loue borne by Lodowick to bright Lucybell,

Yet since your parents liue and as I heare

There is betweene them some dissention,

Blame vs not for detaining you thus long

Till we had notice how the businesse stood

Lodo.

Your royall entertaine great Ferdinand,

Exceeding expectation in our stay,

Bind vs to thanks, and if my brother please

To hold his challenge for a Turnament

In praise of Lucibellas excellence,

No doubt our father and the Austrian duke

Will be in person at so royall sport.

Ferd.

We trust they will.

Rodo.

I doe assure your grace

The Austrian and the duke of Saxony

By true report of pilgrimes at my cell

From eyther of there courts set hetherward

Some sixe dayes since.

Ferd.

Thankes Rodorick for this newes

They are more welcome then the sad discourse

Of Leningberg our nephewes timeles wrake

Which addeth sorrow to the mourning griefes

Abound in vs for our Dutches death.

Ie.

I truly Princes, my father has had but hard lucke since your comming to his court, for ought I know you are bred of ill weather, come before you are sent for, yet if my most gratious father say you are welcome, I his more gratious sonne take you by the hands, though I can tell you my mothers death comes somewhat neere my heart, but I am a prince, and princes haue [] power more then common people to subdue their passions.

Mat.

We know your worthinesse is experienc't in all true wisedome.

Ier.

True, I am no foole, I haue bin at Wittenberg, where wit growes.

Ferd.

Peace thou vnshapen honor, my states shame,

My ages corsiue, and my blacke sinnes curse,

Oh hadst thou neuer bin, I had bin then,

A happy childlesse man, now among men,

I am the most vnhappie, one that knowes

No end of mine, and of my peoples woes.

I tell you Princesse, and most gracious maids;

I doe not weare these sable ornaments

For Isabell'as death, though she were deare,

Nor are my eyelids ouerflowne with teares,

For Otho of Luningberg, wrackt in the Soun,

Though he were all my hope: but heer's my care,

A witlesse foole must needs be Prussias heire.

Ier.

Well, and you were not my father, —— s'nailes, and I would not draw rather then put vp the foole, would I might neuer winne this lady at tilt and turnament: as Knights, I defie you both, for her; euen you Lodowick, that loues her, and your brother that loues you: looke to me, Stilt, and I haue practis'd these two dayes: s'nailes god forgiue me to sweare, she shall not be carried away so.

Mat.

We are glad to heare your grace so resolute.

Ier.

As I am a Prince, and a Dukes heire, though I say it my selfe, I am as full of resolution as the prowdest of you all

Luci.

I thanke Prince Lodowick he ha's bound my youth

To bee the conquerers prize, and if my starres

Allott me to be yours, I will be prowd,

For how so ere you seeme not fashioned

Like mee, and cunning Courtiers; I protest,

By some small loue I beare thee in mine eie,

Your worthy beautie, wealth and dignity.

[]

Ier.

Heart you would not vnhorse Hercules for her father, ile practice againe at Dantzike, you say in the Dukes meade; ile meete thee Mathias : ther's my gloue. For a gauntlet, though my father count me a foole, you shall finde me none.

Exit.

Ferd.

Would I might neuer find thee anything,

For thou indeede art nothing in esteeme,

My sad soule sinkes with sorrow at thy sight.

Enter Lorrique.

Lor.

Health to the right gratious, generous, vertuous, and valorous Ferdinand Duke of Prussia.

Ferd.

Hermet dost thou not know this young mans face?

I'st not Lorique, that met vs at thy cell

With letters from our brother Luningberg?

Rodo.

It is that gentleman.

Lor.

I am no lesse.

Ferd.

thou saydst thou wast my nephewes playfellow,

Appointed to await his vertuous person,

How is it then thou wert so ill aduised

To take the land away, and forsake thy Lord?

Whom I haue neuer seene, nor neuer may,

Though in his life my hope and comfort lay.

Lor.

Be it knowne right gracious:Lorrique had neuer so little grace, as to leaue his loued lord for weather or water, for torture or fire, for death or for life, since I first came to moue in a pilgrims proportion; much disguised, being so proper a man: but onely for those sixe words; that I was sent wholy to giue notice of his comming.

Ferd.

But thou hast left him now sunke in the sea.

Lor.

I left the ship sunke, and his highnesse sau'd, for when all hope had left Master and pilot, sailer and swabber, I caus'd my Lord to leape into the cocke, and for feare she should be sunke with too much company; I caper'd out, and cut the cable: rowse, quoth the ship against the rocks, roomer cry I in the cocke, my Lord wept for the company: I laught to comfort him; last by the power of heauen, [] goodnesse of starrs, kindnesse of winds, mercy of the waues, our cocke and wee were cast a shore vnder Reeshopscurre, we clamberd vp, but hauing scap't drowning, were in danger of killing.

Ferd.

What there betided you?

Lor,

Marry my Lord a young villaine, sonne of a damn'd pirate, a mayd rauisher.

Ferd.

Be briefe, what was he?

Lor.

Clois Hoffman.

Fer.

Oh my heart! did the false rebell hurt his soueraignes sonne?

Lor.

Noe my Lord, the prince so hought and hoft him, that he had no other helpe but to his heeles, and then I, my good Lord, being roefooted, outstript him in running, tript him by strength, and in fine, finely cut's throat.

Ferd.

Where is the villaines body?

Lor.

Marry euen heaued ouer the scarr, and sent a swimming toward Burtholme, his old habitation; if it bee not intercepted by some Seale, Sharke, Sturgeon, or such like.

Ferd.

Where is our nephew?

Lor.

He intends to stay at the same hermitage, where I saluted your excellence, with newes of my lords excellencies intent, to visite you; for that his apparrell is somewhat sea-sicke, and he wants shift.

Ferd.

A charriot, and rich robes attend Lorrique.

And his reward, be thirteene hundred dollers,

For he hath driuen dolour from our heart.

Princes, and Princesse, in your kindest loue,

Attend our person to the hermitage,

where we shall meete the heire of two great States,

Rich Luningberg, and warlike Prussias,

Otho liuing, wee'l disinherit our fond sonne:

And blesse all Dantzike, by our sonne elect,

Hermet you haue at home, a guest of ours,

Your little cell, is a great princes court;

Had you bin there to entertaine young Otho,

[]

He would haue tooke your welcome thankfully,

Where now he mournes, for want of company.

Rodo.

I will goe on before my gracious Lord.

Ferd,

Nay I am iealous of my approaching ioy,

And fearefull, any eye but mine, should gaine

The pleasure of my glad diuining soule;

Forward come all, in my delight take part,

He that's now glad, addes ioy to gladnes heart.

Exeunt

Enter Clois Hoffman.

If there liue ere a surgeon that dare say

He could doe better: ile play Mercury,

And like fond Marsias flea the Quacksaluer.

There were a sort of filthy Mountebankes,

Expert in nothing but in idle words,

Made a daies worke, with their incision kniues

On my opprest poore father: silly man,

Thrusting there dastard fingers in his flesh,

That durst not while he liued, behold his face;

I haue fitted my anatomy

In a faire chaine to; father this youth scorn'd

When he was set in an ascending throne,

To haue you stand by him; would he could see,

How the case alters, you shall hang by him,

And hang afore him to, for all his pride,

Come image of bare death, ioyne side, to side,

With my long iniur'd fathers naked bones;

He was the prologue to a Tragedy,

That if my destinies deny me not,

Shall passe those of Thyestes, Tereus,

Iocasta, or Duke Iasons iealous wife;

So shut our stage vp, there is one act done

Ended in Othos death; 'twas somewhat single;

Ile fill the other fuller, if Lorrique,

That I haue late sworne to be murders slaue,

sweares hee will protest me to be Othos,

Whom Prussia his vncle vnknowne loues;

[]

If I be taken for him well: Oh then!

Sweet vengeance make me happiest of all men:

Prussia, I come as comets against change:

As apparitions before mortall ends;

If thou accept me for thy nephewe, so;

Vncle, ile vncle thee of thy proud life.

Father farewell, ile to the hermitage,

Where if I be receaued for Luningberg,

I will haue thy drie bones, sanguin'd all or'e

With thy foes bloud, Rhamnusia helpe thy priest,

My wrong thou know'st, my willingnesse thou seest.

Exit.

Actus secundus.

Enter Ierom and Stilt.

Ier.

Come Stilt, bestirre your stumpes; you know I must be a tilter.

Stilt.

I my lord, I know you should be one, but I hope you are not so madd.

Ier.

what dost thou count it madnesse to runne a tilt.

Stilt.

I my Lord, for you that cannot sit a hobby, you'le hardly manage your tilthorse.

Ier.

Why? they say Stilt, that stone Mares are gentler, see if thou canst get me one of them.

Stilt.

Not afore next grasse; I could helpe you now to a stone mule, a stone asse.

Ier.

Well, ile trie one course with thee at the halfe pike, and then goe, come draw thy pike.

Stilt.

That's not your fit word; you must say, aduance your pike, and you must be here sir, and here, you'l neuer learne for all my teaching.

Ier.

I haue answered you Stilt, that Princes haue no need to bee taught, and I haue e'en determin'd with my selfe, not to runne at tilt, least I hazard my horse and harnesse: [] therefore ile to the court, and onely see my new cousin, that they sayd was drownd: and then retire to my Castle at Helsen, and there write a new poem, that I haue taken paines in, almost these ten yeares: It is in prayse of picketoothes.

Stilt.

That will be excellent my Lord, the barbers will buy those poems abominably.

Ier.

Nay sirra, ile get a patent from the Duke, my father, for the Cum Priuilegio for that poem, Ad imprimendum solum; besides thou shalt haue a priuiledge, that no manshall sell toothpickes without thy seale: my father saies I am a foole, but I thinke I bestow my time to looke out for setting a new nappe vpon his thredbare Common wealth: Who's that knockes? who dares disturbe our honorable meditation? harke Stilt, dost thou see no noyse?

Stilt.

No, but I heare a noyse.

Ierom.

A hall then; my father and my new cousen: stand aside, that I may set my countenance, my beard brush and mirror, Stilt, that set my countenance right to the mirror of Knight-hood, for your mirror of magistrates is somewhat to sober. how lik'st me?

Stilt.

Oh excellent! heers your casting bottle.

Ier.

Sprinkle, good Stilt, sprinkle, for my late practize hath brought mee into strange fauour: ha mother of mee, thou hadst almost blinded the eyes of excellence; but omnia bene, let them approach now, and I appeare not like a Prince, let my father casheere me, as some say hee will.

Stilt.

Casheere you? no, doe but manage your body, and haue heere, and heere your congies, and then quid sequitur, Stilt knowes, and all the court shall see.

Hoboyes.

Enter Ferdinand leading Clois Hoffman: Mathias, and Lodowick leading Lucibella: Lorrique, with other lords attending: comming neere the chayre of state, Ferdinand Ascends, places Hoffman at his feete, sets a Coronet on his head, A Herald proclaimes.

[]

Her.

Ferdinand by the diuine grace, prince of Heidelberg lord of Pomer, and Duke of Prussia, for sundry reasons him mouing, the quiet state of his people especially: which as a witlesse and insufficient prince, disinherits Ierom Heidelberg his knowne sonne and adopteth Otho of Luningberg his sisters sonne, as heire, immediately to succeed after his death in all his prouinces. God saue Duke Ferdinand, and Otho his heire.

Florish.

Ferd.

Amen, Heauen witnesse, how my heart is pleas'd,

With the conceit of Prussias after-peace,

By this election.

Ier.

Why? but heare you father.

Ferd.

Away, disturbe vs not, let's in and feast,

For all our country in our choyce is blest.

Florish.

Exeunt.

Ier.

Why, but Stilt, what's now to be done Stilt?

Stilt.

Nay that's more then I know: this matter will trouble vs more then all your poem of picktooths, s'nailes: you were better be vnknighted then vnprinc'd, I haue lost all my hope of preferment, if this hold.

Ier.

Noe more Stilt, I haue it heere; 'tis in my head, and outit shall not come, till red reuenge in robes of sire, and madding mischiefe runne and raue: they say I am a foole Stilt,but follow me; ile seeke out my notes of Machiauel, they say hee's an odd politician.

Stilt.

I faith hee's so odd, that he hath driuen euen honesty from all mens hearts.

Ier.

Well, sword come forth, and courage enter in,

Brest breake with griefe; yet hold to be reueng'd:

Follow me Stilt; widdowes vnborne shall weepe,

And beardlesse boyes with armour on their backes

Shall beare vs out, Stilt we will tread on stilts,

Through the purple pauement of the court,

Which shall bee, let me see, what shall it be?

No court, but euen a caue of misery.

[]

Ther's an excellent speech Stilt, follow me, pursue me, will accquire,

And either die, or compasse my desire.

Stilt.

Oh braue master, not a Lord: O, Stilt will stalke, and make the earth a stage,

But hee will haue thee lord in spight of rage.

Exeunt.

Enter Rodorigo, and Austria's Duke, some followers.

Rod.

Sir since you are content, you heere shall finde,

A sparing supper, but a bounteous minde:

Bad lodging, but a heart as free, and generous,

As that which is fed with generous blood,

Aust.

Your hermitage is furnish't for a prince.

Rodo.

Last night this roofe couer'd the sacred heads

Of fiue most noble, faire, and gratious Princes,

Duke Ferdinand himselfe, and Otho his nephew,

The sonnes of Saxon , and the Austrian Princesse.

Aust.

Oh god! that girle, which fled my Court and loue,

Making loue colour for her heedles flight,

Rodo.

Pardon great prince: are you the Austrian duke?

Aust.

Hermet I am, Saxons proud wanton sonns

Were entertaind like Priam's Firebrand

At Sparta: all our State gladly appear'd

Like chierfull Lacedemons, to receaue

Those Daemons that with magicke of their tongues,

Bewitch't my Lucibells my Helen's eares.

Knocking and calling within.

Rodo.

Who traueleth so late? who knockes so hard?

Turne to the east end of the Chappell, pray;

We are ready to attend you.

Enter duke of Saxony.

Sax.

Which is the way to Dantzike?

Rodo.

There is no way to Dantzike you can finde

Without a guide thus late, come neere I pray,

Sax.

looke to our horses, by your leaue master Hermet,

[]

We are soone bidden, and will proue bold guests:

God saue you sir.

Aust.

That should bee Saxons tongue.

Sax.

Indeed I am the Duke of Saxony.

Aust.

Then art thou father to lasciuious sonnes,

That haue made Austria childles.

Sax.

O subtill duke, thy craft appeares in framing thy excuse,

Thou dost accuse my yong sons innocence:

I sent them to get knowledge, learne the tongues,

Not to be metamorphis'd with the view

Of flattering beauty, peraduenture painted.

Aust.

No; I defie thee Iohn of Saxony;

My Lucibell for beauty needs no art,

Nor doe I thinke the vertues of her minde

Euer inclind to this ignoble course

But by the charmes and forcings of thy sonnes.

Sax.

Oh would thou durst maintaine thy words prowd Duke.

Rodo.

I hope great Princes, neither of you dare

Commit a deede so sacrilegious: This holy cell

Is dedicated to the sonne of peace;

The foot of war neuer prophan'd this floore,

Nor doth wrath here with his consuming voyce

Affright these buildings; charity with prayer,

Humility with abstinence combin'd,

Are heere the guardians of a grieued minde.

Aust.

Father we obey thy holy voyce;

Duke Iohn of Saxony, receiue my faith;

Till our eares heare the true course thy sonnes

Haue taken with my fond and mis-led child.

I proclaime truce, Why dost thou sullen stand?

If thou meane peace, giue me thy Princely hand.

Sax.

Thus doe I plight thee troth, and promise peace,

Aust.

Nay, but thy eyes agree not with thy heart;

In vowes of combination, ther's a grace

That shewes the intention in the outward face.

Looke cherefully, or I expect no league.

[]

Sax.

First giue me leaue to view a while the person,

Of this Hermet, Austria note him well,

Is he not like your brother Rodorick ?

Aust.

Hee's like him, but I heard he lost his life

Long since in Persia, by the Sophies warres.

Rod.

I heard so much my Lords, but that report

Was purely fain'd, spread by my erring tongue,

As double as my heart, when I was yonge.

I am that Rodorick that aspir'd your throne;

That vile false brother who with rebell breath,

Drawne sword, and trecherous heart threatned your death.

Sax.

My brother! nay, then i'faith old Iohn lay by

Thy sorrowing thoughts, turne to thy wonted veyne,

And be madd Iohn of Saxony againe.

Mad Rodorick , art aliue? my mothers sonne

Her ioy and her last birth; oh she coniur'd me

To vse thee thus, and yet I banisht thee:

Body of me; I was vnkinde I know,

But thou deseru'st it then; but let it goe:

Say thou wilt leaue this life thus truly idle,

And liue a Statesman, thou shalt share in raigne,

Commanding all but me thy soueraigne.

Rod.

I thanke your Highnes; I will thinke on it:

But for my sinnes this sufferance is more fit.

Sax.

Tut, title, tatle, tell not me of sinne.

Now Austria once againe thy Princely hand:

Ile looke thee in the face, and smile, and sweare,

If any of my sonnes haue wrong'd thy child,

Ile helpe thee in reuenging it my selfe;

But if as I beleeue they meane, but honor,

As it appeareth by these iusts proclaim'd.

Then thou shalt be content to name him thine,

And thy faire daughter ile account as mine.

Aust.

Agreed.

Sax.

Ah Austria! t'was a world when you and I

Ran these Carreers; but now we are stiffe and drie.

[]

Aust.

I am glad you are so pleasant my good Lord.

Sax.

T'was my old mood, but I was soone turn'd sad:

With ouer grieuing for this long lost lad;

And now the Boy is growne, as old as I,

His very face as full of grauity.

Rod.

Please your Graces enter,

I know the seruants that attend one me

By the appointment of Duke Ferdinand

By this haue couered.

Sax.

Why then let's in: brother I trust, and brother

Hold you this land, Rodorick hold thou the other,

By heauen my heart with happinesse is crow'nd,

In that my long lost brother now is found:

Exeunt,

Enter Cloie Hoffman solus.

Hoff.

so run on fate, my destinies are good,

Reuenge hath made me great by shedding blood:

I am suppos'd the heire of Luningberg,

By which I am of Prussia Prince elect.

Good: who is wrong'd by this? onely a foole:

And 'tis not fit that idiots should beare rule.

Enter Lorrique.

Lo.

My Lord I haue as you inioyn'd, intic't Saxons elder sonne to talke with you: and heere hee comes with his most excellent, amorous, and admirable Lady.

Hoff.

Ha'st thou the Hermets weeds for my disguise?

Lor.

All ready, fit, fit in the next chamber, your beard is point-vice, not a haire amisse.

Hoff.

Faithfull Lorrique in thy vnfaithfulnes:

I kisse thy cheeke, and giue thee in that kisse

The moitie of all my earthly blisse.

Exit.

Lor.

Good: I am halfe a Monarke: halfe a fiend Blood I begun in and in blood must end yet this Clois is an honest villaine, ha's conscience in his killingof men: he kils none but his fathers enemies, and there issue, 'tis admirable, 'tis excellent, 'tis well 'tis meritorious, where? in heauen? no, hell.

[]

Enter Lodowick and Lucibella.

Lod.

Now friend, where is prince Otho?

Lor.

Sad, sir, and grieued.

Luci.

Why? prithee why?

Lor.

Alas I know not why.

The hermet Rodorigo talkt with him

Somewhat of you, and somewhat of the Duke,

About surprizing you and murdering Lodowick:

Or such a thing, nay sure 'twas such a thing.

Luci.

Surprizing me and murdering Lodowicke.

Lod.

By whom? by what complot?

Lor.

Sure by the Duke, the Duke's an odd old lad:

I know, this night ther's set a double guard,

And ther's some tricke in that: but patience:

Heere comes the Hermet: holy reuerent man!

Enter Clois Hoffman like a hermet.

Somewhat important, wings his aged feete

With speedy nimblenesse: heauen graunt that all be well.

Clois.

Princes in pitty of your youth, your loue,

Your vertues, and what not, that may moue ruth,

I offer you the tender of your liues,

Which yet you may preserue: but if you stay,

Death and destruction waiteth your delay.

Lod,

Who hath conspir'd our deathes? speake reuerent man.

Clo.

The Duke of Prussia , doating on this face;

Worthy indeed of wonder, being so faire,

This night hath plotted, first to murder you;

The guard are set that you may not escape,

Within, without, and round about the court;

Onely one way, thorow Prince Otho his lodging

Is left; heere is the key, and for more proofe

Of my great zeale and care, on with these robes.

[]

Within are Grecian habits for your heads;

Nay if you loue life do not stand amaz'd,

But take the path toward my hermitage,

Yet I aduize you, that you goe not in;

There may be plots to, for ought I know;

But turne downe by the riuer, ther's a way

Leads to a little Chappell; in that porch

Stay, till I visit you with better newes;

Lod.

I will but call my brother, and then goe.

Clo.

That were a going neuer to returne:

I'le send him after you, be well assur'd.

Luci.

Oh god! the Duke of Prussia grown thus false,

such shewes of freindship, and so little faith.

Lod.

Come Lucibella lets embrace this meane,

Duke Ferdinand shall with a sorrowing heart,

Repent this base dishonourable plot:

Father, our fortunes if they sort aright,

shall with continuall thankfulnesse requite

This vertuous and this charitable care:

Farwell: wee'l wait thee in the Chappell porch

Bring Prince Mathias our kind brother thither,

And thou shalt add good works to charity:

Once more farewell Lorrique; ther's for thee,

Commend me to thy Lord, tell him this wronge

Of his false vncle, shal meete full reuenge:

But doe to him our duties. Come chast, faire,

We must not now by tilt and turnameut

Maintayne thy honor: for thy champion Knight,

Is for'st by treason to vnwilling flight.

Exit.

Clo.

so runne to mischiefe: Oh my deare Lorrique!

When I haue summ'd vp my account of death,

And rob'd those fathers of there lifes and ioy,

That rob'd mee of my ioy, my fathers life,

Thus thy hand claspt in mine, wee'l walke and meditate,

And boast in the reuenges I haue wrought;

[]

That done; ile seat thee by my throne of state,

And make thee riuall in those gouernments,

That by thy secrecy thou lift'st me to;

Shalt be a Duke at least.

Lor.

I thanke your Grace, but pray resolue me,

What you now intend,

To these three Princes Lodowick, and Mathias,

And the thrice beautious Princesse Lucibell.

Hoff.

Death certaine: call in Mathias, if my plot proue good, ile make one brother shed the others blood.

Lor.

I am nimble as your thought, deuise, i'le execute what you command.

Exit.

Clo.

A pretious villaine: a good villaine too:

Well if he be no worse; that is doe worse,

And hony me in my death-stinging thoughts,

I will preferre him: he shall be prefer'd

To hanging peraduenture; why not? 'tis well

Enter Lorrique.

His sufferance heere may saue his soule from hell.

Hee comes; what newes my faithfull seruant? wher's the Prince.

Lor.

Hee's talking with the lady Lucibell,

And when I said your Highnesse sent for him,

Hee 'gan with courtly salutations,

To take his leaue and to attend your grace.

Clo.

Well god-a-mercy friend, thou got'st me grace:

But more of that at leasure: take this gowne;

My cloake, a chaire; I must turne melancholy.

Enter Mathias.

Second what ere I say, approoue my words,

That we may mooue Mathias to mad rage.

Mat.

God saue your excellence: what sad, dull, heauy?

Or are you now in meditation

Which part to take to morrow at the Tilt?

[]

The mead is ringd with tents of stranger Knights,

Whose rich deuices, and caparisons

Exceed the Persian Monark's, when he met

Destruction and pale death sent from the sword

Of Philips sonne, and his stout Macedons

Cheerely Prince Otho ther's such a warlike sight

That would stirre vp a leaden heart to fight.

Clo.

For what?

Mat.

For honor and faire Lucibell.

Clo.

Oh Prince Mathias! it is ill combin'd

When honor is with fickle beautie ioynd.

Where is your most Princely brother?

Mat.

I cannot tell I left him with his loued Lucibell.

Clo.

But shee has got another loue,

Dishonored all this rich assembly,

Left the memoriall of such infamy,

As cannot die while men haue memory.

Mat.

How? pray you how? what hath the princesse done?

Clo.

she with a Grecian is but new fled hence,

Belike some other loue of hers before:

Our tilt and turnament is spoild and crost,

The faire we should defend, her faith hath lost.

Mat.

Fled with a Grecian? saw you them goe Prince Otho?

Clo.

I, I, I saw them goe.

Mat.

And would not stay them?

Clo.

My true seruant knowes,

How at the sight of such inconstancy

My gentle heart was smitt with inward griefe

And I sunke downe with sorrow.

Mat.

s'death; what path? which way? that I may track her harlot-steps,

Fled now: gone now: ile goe seeke Lodowicke

Clo-

Nay then you add an irreligious worke,

To there lasciuious act; follow your selfe,

I and my man will beare your company

Lorrique, as I thinke, thou nam'dst a chappell,

A Hermet, some such thing: I haue lost the forme.

[]

Lo.

I heard her say, she could not trauell far,

He told her, they would rest the dead of night;

Neere to a chappell, by a hermitage.

Mat.

Where is that chappell? wher's that hermitage?

If you loue honor Princely Luningberg,

Lets to that chappell: if you know the way,

That I may kill our shame, ere it see day.

Clo.

Ile guide you to the chappell, ayd your arme,

In your reuenge, against that Grecian,

But for the Lady spare her, she is faire.

Mat.

I will doe what I can; oh hell of life!

Who, but a foole would striue to winne a wife?

shall we call Lodowick?

Clo.

noe, t'would smite his soule in sunder, split his heart,

If he should heare of such adulterate wronge,

Couer the fault or punish as you please:

Yet I would saue her faine, for she deserues

pitty for beauty.

Mat.

Nothing, noe for nothing.

Shee is as harlots, faire, like guilded tombs

Goodly without; within all rottennes:

shee's like a painted fire vpon a hill,

set to allure the frost-nipt passergers,

And starue them after hope: she is indeede

As all such strumpets are, Angell in shew,

Diuell in heart: Come, come if you loue me goe.

Exit

Clo.

Follow Lorrique; we are in the right way.

Exit.

Lor.

To hell I feare: tush let all feare goe by,

Whoo'l shun a bad way with good company.

Exit.

Actus tertus.

Enter Lodowick and Lucibell.

Lod.

Are you not faint diuinest Lucibell?

[]

Luci.

Noe, the cleare moone strowes siluer in our path,

And with her moist eyes weepes a gentle dew

Vpon the the spotted pauement of the earth,

Which softens euery flowre whereon I tread

Besides; all trauell in your company

Seemes but a walke made in some goodly bowre,

Where loues faire mother strips her paramoure.

Lod.

This is the Chappell, and behold a banke,

Couer'd with sleeping flowers, that misse the Sunne:

Shall Wee repose vs till Mathias come?

Luci.

The Hermet will soone bring him, let's sit downe

Nature, or art hath taught these boughes to spred,

In manner of an arbour o're the banke.

Lod.

No, they bow downe as vailes to shadow you:

And the fresh flowers beguiled by the light

Of your celestiall eyes, open there leaues,

And when they entertaine the lord of day

You bring them comfort like the Sunne in May.

Luci.

Come come, you men will flatter beyond meane:

Will you sit downe? and talke of the late wronge

Intended by the Duke of Prussia ?

Lod.

Fairest forget it, leaue till we are cleare freed hence,

I will defie him, and cause all the knights

Assembled for our purpos'd turnament,

To turne there keene swords 'gainst his catiue head.

Luci.

Prithee no more, I feele thy blood turne hot,

And wrath inflames thy spirit, let it cease;

Forgiue this fault, conuert this war to peace.

Lod.

O breath sweet touch with what a heauenly charme

Doe your soft fingers my war-thoughts disarme,

Prussia had reason to attempt my life

Inchanted by the magicke of these lookes,

That cast a luster on the blushing starrs.

Pardon chast Queene of beauty, make me proude

To rest my toild head on your tender knee,

My chin with sleepe is to my bosome bow'd;

[]

Faire if you please a little rest with mee.

Luci.

No, ile be Centinell; ile watch for feare

Of venomous wormes, or wolues, or woluish theeues:

My hand shall fanne your eyes, like the film'd winge

Of drowsie morpheus; and my voyce shall sing

In a low compasse for a Lucibell.

Sleepe sweete, perhaps ile sleepe for company.

Lod.

I thanke you; I am drowsie, sing I pray;

Or sleepe: doe what you please, I am heauy, I;

God night to all our care: oh! I am blest

By this soft pillow where my head doth rest.

Hee sleepes.

Luc.

By my troth I am sleepy too: I cannot sing,

My heart is troubled with some heauy thing.

Rest one these violets, whilst I prepare,

In thy soft slumber to receiue a share:

Blush not chast Moone to see a virgin lie

So neere a Prince, 'tis noe immodestie:

For when the thoughts are pure, noe time, noe place,

Hath power to worke faire chastities disgrace; Lodowick

I claspe thee thus, so arme clip arme,

So sorrow fold them that wish true loue harme.

Sleepes.

Enter Lorrique, Mathias, Clois Hoffman.

Mat.

Art sure tha'st found them?

Lor.

Looke, are these they?

Mat.

Adulterer: strumpet.

Lod.

Oh!

Luci.

Oh!

Clo.

Vnhumane deede to kill both.

Mat.

Both haue abus'd our glory, both shall bleed,

Luci.

how now! what haue ye done? my Lodowick bleeds

Some sauage beast hath fixt his ruthles fange

In my soft body: Lodowick I faint,

[]

Deere wake; my Lodowick: alas what meanes

Your brest to be thus wet? I'st blood or sweat?

Lod.

Who troubles me?

Mat.

Brother.

Lod.

Who is that? Mathias.

Mat.

I, accursed I,

Lod.

Wher's the good Hermet? thanke him for his loue

Yet tell him; Ferdinand of Prussia

Hath a long arme; some murderer of his

hath kild vs sleeping.

Luci.

Kild thee? oh no! I trust the carefull destinies deny

So hard a fate: 'tis I alone am kild.

Come Lodowick, and close vp my night-vaild eies

That neuer may agen behold the day.

Hoff.

What meanes Mathias?

He offers to Kill himselfe.

Mat.

Hold me not Prince Otho.

I will reuenge my selfe vpon my selfe:

For Parricide for damned parricide:

I haue kild my brother sleeping in the armes

Of the diuinest forme that e're held breath.

I haue kild loues Queene defac't with my foule hand,

The goodliest frame that euer nature built

And driuen the graces from the mansion

Wherein they haue continued from their birth;

She now being dead, shee'l dwell no more on earth.

Lod.

What mooued you to it brother?

Mat.

Iealous rage, suspition by Prince Otho,

That Lucibell had fled with a base Greeke,

Oh me accursed! I am borne to shame.

Clo.

But I am wretcheder, that from the loue

Deuoted to the house of Saxony,

Haue thus begot this monster cruelty:

I lay within an arbour, whence I saw

The princesse, and your selfe in this disguise

Departing secretly my vncles court:

[]

I iudg'd you for a Greeke as you appear'd.

Told Prince Mathias of your secret flight;

And hee led on by fury followed you

Where thus deceased by night and your attire,

Hath rob'd your heart of life, his owne of ioy.

Mat.

Forgiue me brother, pardon fairest maide,

And ere the icy hand of ashie death

Fold your faire bodies in this sable vaile;

Discouer why you put on this disguise.

Lod.

To scape the lustfull Duke of Prussia ,

Who purpos'd this night to murder me,

And rauish her whom death hath made his pray

My Lucibell, whose lights are mask't with clouds

That neuer will be cleard.

Hoff.

My vncle, fie, who buz'd into your head

This damned lie?

Lod.

it's no lie.

Luci.

Noe lie: 'tis true, 'tis true,

The reuerent Hermet Rodorick told it vs.

Hoff.

The Hermet is a villaine damn'd in hell

Before the worlds creation, if he sai't

My Princely vncle purpos'd such a thought.

Looke to the Princesse, ther's life in her:

Cheere vp your heart Prince Lodowicke, courage man.

Your being of comfort may recouer her,

While I bring forth the Hermet and disprooue

This false assertion: Rodorick is a slaue

A vile and irreligious hypocrite,

No Hermet, but a diuell if he dare

Affirme such falshood of Duke Ferdinand.

Enter Rodorigo, Saxony, and Austria.

Rodo.

Rodorick is not as you report him sir,

Nor did he ere belie Duke Ferdinand.

Hoff.

No did? why then did you maliciously

[]

Aduise Prince Lodowick and faire Lucibell

To flie the Prussian court this dismall night.

Rodo.

Who I? I spake not with them,

Lodo.

Yes ye did.

Sax.

Where was it that he spake with you? tell vs where?

Lodo.

At Dantzike in the Duke of Prussias court.

Sax.

Who heard him besides you?

Lod.

The Princesse Lucibell.

Luci.

As heauen shall helpe my fleeting soule, I did.

Aust.

why speakes my dukedomes hope in hollow sounds?

Looke vp fayre child heer's Saxony and I

Thy father, Lucibella looke on me;

I am not angry that thou fled'st away

But come to grace thy nuptials; prithee speake.

Luci.

Father I thanke you: Lodowick reach me thy hand

How cold thou art; death now assailes our hearts,

Hauing triumph't ouer the outward parts;

Farewell a while, we die but part, to meete

Where ioyes are certaine, pleasures endlesse, sweet.

Father, this latest boone of you I craue,

Let him, and me, lie in one bed, and graue.

Moritur.

Aust.

Oh me! oh miserable wretched me.

Lod.

Houer a little longer blessed soule, glide not away too fast: mine now forsaks his earthly mansion and on hopes gilt wings will gladly mount with thine, where Angels sing celestiall ditties to the King of Kings. brother adew, your rashnesse I forgiue, pardon me father, pardon; Austria your daughter is become a bride for death: the dismall euen before her wedding day. Hermet God pardon thee: thy double tongue hath caus'd this errour: but in peace farewell. Hee that lifts vs to Heauen keepe thee from Hell.

Moritur.

Rod.

Oh strange coniecture! what should moue this Prince

To charge me with such horrid cruelty?

[]

Mat.

Ile tell thee hypocrite.

Sax.

Stay Mathias stay,

It is thy vncle Rodorigo, and besides,

My honor and Duke Austria's shall bee gag'd,

He neuer parted from our company in his owne hermitage

Since day declinde, and glimmering twilight vsher'd in the night.

Hoff.

Not from his hermitage?

Aust.

Noe not he.

Hoff.

I'st possible?

Aust.

By Heauen he did not.

Hoff.

Then there is villany, practice, and villainy

Mathias hath bin wrong'd and drawne to kill

His naturall brother, with him to destroy

The rarest peece of natures workmanship,

No doubt by practize and base villany

The Hermet not at court? strange! wondrous!

Sax.

Oh for my sonne, and Austria's worthy childe.

Aust.

Thou weep'st in scorne, and very teare of thine

Couers a smile: Saxony, I defie

All truce, all league of loue, guard thee prowd Duke;

Thy sonnes haue made me childlesse; Ile haue thee

Consort in death with my wrong'd girle and mee.

Hoff.

Helpe Prince Mathias: Hermet, oh the Heauens!

The Austrian Duke sinkes downe vpon the earth.

Aust.

Proud Iohn of Saxony : ha'st thou no wound?

Sax.

Not any Austria; neither toucht I thee.

Aust.

Somebody toucht me home: vaine world farewell

Dying I fall on my dead Lucibell.

Saxo.

Sir what are you that take on you to parte?

It's by your weapon that the Duke is falne.

Hoff.

If I thought so, i'de fall vpon the point,

But I am innocent of such an ill:

Kill my good kinsman, Duke of Austria;

Then were Prince Otho of Luningberg set downe

In sad dispaires blacke booke to raue and die,

But I am free from such impiety.

[]

Saxo.

Are you Prince Otho of Luningberg?

Rodo.

He is, and heire apparent to Duke Ferdinand

Sax.

May be the Moone deceaues me, and my grief

As well in the distinguishing of sounds,

As sight: I haue heard of young Luningberg,

And seene him to at Hoffmans ouerthrow,

He lookt not like you, neither spake like you.

Mat.

Father, 'tis he:Lorrique his man attends him,

That fellow which is all compos'd of mirth

Of mirth? of death: why should I thinke of mirth

After so foule a murder? come lend hands

To giue this Princely body funerall rites,

That I may sacrifice this hand and heart

For my peace-offerings on theyr sepulchers.

Sax.

Nay, boy, thou shall not leaue old Saxony

Childles for all this sorrow: Prince, and if Otho

Helpe in my son with noble Austria,

Lodowick shalbe my burden: brother yours

The louely but the lucklesse Lucibell.

So treade a heauy measure; now lets goe

To interre the dead, our hearts being dead with woe.

Exeunt carrying the dead bodies

Rod.

Ther's life in Lucibell, for I feele

(Rodo. last with Lucibell.

A breath, more odoriferous then balme

Thirle through the corrall porals of her lipps,

Apparent signes of life, her pulses beate;

Oh if I could but yet recouer her,

T'would satisfie the State of Austria,

That else would be disturb'd for want of heires

Heauen be propitious, guide my artlesse hand,

To preserue fainting life in this cleare forme.

Graunt this thou soule of all Diuinity,

And I will striue what euer mortall may

Enter Hoffman and Saxony.

To serue thee on my knees both night and day,

Tarry Prince Otho and see theyr bodies balm'd,

[]

Hoff.

I pray you thinke me not in passion dull;

I must withdraw, and weepe, my heart is full.

Oh reuerent man, thou bearst the richest fruite;

That euer fell in the vnripired spring,

Goe lay her soft, she had ill fate to fall;

But rich or faire or strong, death swallowes all,

Hola!Lorrique, leaue our horse; draw neere.

Enter Lorrique.

Helpe me to sing a hymne vnto the fates

Compos'd of laughing interiections.

Lor.

Why my good Lord? what accidents

Haue chanc't, that tickle so your spleene?

Hoff.

Oh my deere selfe: thou trusty treasurer of my reuenge,

Kneele downe, and at my bidding kisse the earth;

And on her cold eare whisper this strict charge:

That she prouide the best of her perfumes,

The fat of Lambs rap't from the bleating Ewes,

The sweet oft smelling wood she can deuise;

For I must offer vp a sacrifice,

To blest occasion that hath seconded

With opportune meanes my desire of wreake;

Lor.

Now I haue kis't the earth, let me pertake

In your great ioy, that seemes to exceed.

Are Lodowick, and the Princesse murder'd?

Hoff.

Tis done, goe, hie thee to Prince Ferdinand;

Tell him how misaduenture and mistrust

Hath kild Prince Lodowick and bright Lucibell:

By Prince Mathias hand: adde to that chaunce,

Another vnexpected accident:

Say that the Dukes of Austria and Saxony,

Being by the Hermet Rodorick intertain'd,

And hearing outcries in the dead of night,

Came and beheld the tragick spectacle,

Which sight did so inrage the Austrian Duke,

That he, assail'd the Saxon, but fell slaine,

[]

On his pale daughter, now defloured by death.

Lor.

Is Austria then slaine by Saxony?

Hoff.

Come, come, hee's dead, eyther by him or me,

Noe matter, hee's gone: ther's more to goe.

Runne with the newes; away.

Exit.

Enter Stilt, and a rabble of poore souldiers: old Stilt his father, with his scarfe like a Captaine. A scuruy marcb.

Stilt.

Father, set you the army in qeraye, while I inuocate:

The Generall Foulkes: Fibs, for man, and Friends all, Officers ail, helpe to marshall; Prince Ierom my Lord shall remunerate that, is shall be Full of thankesgiuing, while nature is able to Nourish, or sustayne; Father you haue order to stay the rest, be sententious, and full of circumstance I aduise you; and remember this, that more then mortality fights on our side; For we haue treason and iniquity to maintayne our quarrell.

Old Stilt.

Hah! what say'st my sonne? treason and iniquity?

Stilt.

Reason, and equity I meant Father; ther's little controuersity in the words: but like a Captaine couragious, I pray goe forward, remember the place you are, in noe more, but this; the dayes of old, no more, but that; and the glory Father; Knighthood at least, to the vtter defacing of you and your posterity, Noe more but foe.

Exit.

O. Stilt.

Well, goe thy waies: thou art able to put fire into a Flint stone; thou hast as rheumatique a tongue to []perswade as any is betweene Pole and Pomer ; but thou art euen kitt after kind, I am thy father, and was infamous for my exprobations, to discourage a dissembly of tall souldiers afore thou wert borne, and I haue made them stand to it tooth and nayle; how say you, most valiant and reprobate Country men: haue ye not heard I haue bin a stinger, a tickler, a wormer.

Fibs.

Yes; noble, ancient Captaine Stilt, ye haue remou'd mens hearts I haue heard that of my father (God rest his soule,) when yee were but one of the common all souldiers that seru'd old Sarloys in Norway.

O. Stilt.

I then was, and Sarloys was; a gentleman wou'd not haue giuen his head for the washing; but hee is cut of, as all valiant caualeroes shall; and they be no more negligent of themselues; But to the purpose: wee are dissembled together, and falne into battayle beray in the behalfe Prince Ierom a vertuous Prince, a wise Prince, and a most respectlesse Prince; my son Timothies master, and the vnlawfull heire of this land. Now sir the old Duke has put out a declamation, and saies our rising is noe other then a resurrection, for the Prince inspires not against his father; but the Duke inspires against his son, vsing him most naturally, charitably, and abhominably, to put him from intercession of the crowne; wherefore as yee bee true men, and obstinate subiects to the State vncouer your heads, and cast vp your caps and cry a Ierom, a Ierom,

Om,

A Ierom, a Ierom, a Ierom.

Enter Ierom, and Stilt.

Ier.

Most noble Countrymen I cannot but condole in ioy, and smile in teares to see you assembled in my right, but this is the lamentation that I poore Prince must make, who for my fathers proclamation am like for to [] loose my head; except you stand to mee, for they are comming on with bowes, bills, and guns, against vs: but if you be valiant, and stand to me lustily, all th'earth shall roare but wee'l haue victory.

Enter with Drum, and Colours, Duke Ferdinand, Hoffman Lorrique, Captaine to leade the drum the souldiers march and make a stand; All on Ieroms side cast vp their caps and cry a Ierom.

Fer.

Vpon those traytors valiant gentlemen:

Let not that beast the multitude confront,

With garlicke-breath and then confused cries

The Maiesty of me their awfull Duke,

Strike their Typhoean body downe to fire

That dare 'gainst vs, their soueraigne conspire.

Ier.

Come, come, you shall haue your hands full, and you

Come where we haue to doe, stand to it Stilt.

Stilt.

stand to't? heer's the father and the son will stand, though all the rest flie away.

O Stilt.

I warrant you Prince, when the battaile comes to ioyning, my son and I will bee inuisible, and they ouercome vs, ile giue you leaue to say I haue no pith in me; vpon vm true Prince vpon vm.

An Alarum: Hoffman kneeles betweene the Armies.

Stilt.

I thought twou'd come to that;

I thought we shou'd bring

The false Prince on his knees.

Fer.

What meanes my Dukedomes hope to turne thus base? arise, and smite thy foes.

Sarl.

I see them not my most honor'd vncle; pittie I beseech

These silly people, that offend as babes,

Not vnderstanding, how they doe offend:

And suffer me chiefe agent in this wrong,

To plead their pardons with a peacefull tongue.

[]

Stilt.

We scorne pardons, Peace and pitty; wee'l haue a Prince of our owne chusing, Prince Ierom.

O. Stilt.

I, I, Prince Ierom or no body; be not obstacle old Duke, let not your owne flesh and blood bee inherited of your Dukedome, and a stranger displac'd in his retority: for and you doe, wee will take no comparison of you and your army, but fall vpon you like temperance and lightning.

Fer.

Vpon your perill; gentlemen assayle.

Sarl.

If any bosome meete the brunt of war,

Mine shall be first oppos'd; these honest men

That rise in armes for my young Cozens right

Shall be Protected whil'st Prince Charles can stand.

Ier.

Why see now what a thing Maiesty is;

Stilt and the rest of my good people; my couzen

Charles looking but in the face of our excellence

Cannot choose but take our parte.

Stilt.

Nay but trust him not my Lord; take heed of him,

Aware your enemies at any hand.

Fer.

Why should you make this intercession

For these base abiects, whose presumptuous hearts

Haue drawne their rebell bodies 'gainst their head:

Intreat not for them, they are all but dead.

Sarl.

Forbeare a little worthy Countrymen.

Stilt.

Nay we deny that, we are none of your Countrymen; you are an arrant arrant Alien.

O. Stilt.

True son a mere peregrination, and one that was not borne within our Dukes damnation, and therefore not to be remitted to any vpstantiall degree of office amongst vs: that's the fine, that's the confusion of all.

Sarl.

But heare mee.

Ier.

I, I, pray heare him; nay I charge you all vpon paine of death that you heare my cozen.

Stilt.

he Well wee will are him: come on, speake, what will yee say?

Sarl.

O I beseech you saue your liues and goods,

[]

For the Dukes squadrons arm'd with wrath and death,

Watch but the signall when to ceaze on you,

That can noe more withstand their approoued strengthes

Then sparrowes can contend with towring hawks:

Or 'gainst the Eagles ayery:

This act of yours by gathering to a head,

Is treason capitall, and without grace

Your liues are forfeit to extreamest law.

O Stilt.

Mas he saies true son; but what's the remedy?

Stilt.

None at all father, now wee are in, wee must goe through stitch.

Sarl.

Yes, there is remedy: cast your weapons downe,

And arme your selues with mercy of your Prince

Who like a gracious shepheard ready stands

To take his lost sheepe home in gentle hands.

As for your Prince, I will for him intreat

That he may be restor'd againe in loue,

And vnto offices of dignity, as eythet Taster,

Sewer, Cupbearer, the place himselfe thinkes

Fittest for his state, and for my part when

That vnhappy time of Princely Ferdinands

Sad death shall, come: ——

Which moment: ——

But should I as I say behold that houre,

Although I am elected for your Prince,

Yet would I not remooue this gentleman,

But rather serue him as his councellor.

Ier.

Giue me your hand of that Cozen; well sayd, now get a pardon for mee, and my merry men all; and then let me be my fathets Taster, being the office belonging to his eldest sonne; I Being the same, and then you shall see mee behaue my selfe, not as a rebell, or reprobate, but as a most reasonable Prince, and sufficient subiect.

Stilt.

Well since my Lord ha's sayd the word, bring that of spake he to passe and ye shall haue my word too, and old Stilt my fathers, being a man of good reproch I tell you, [] and condemnation in his country.

O. Stilt.

I that I am my Lord, I haue liu'd in name and shame these threescore and seuen winters, all my neighbours can beare me testament, and accord.

Sarl.

Well, rest yee quiet, Soueraigne on my knees

I beg your Highnes graunt to there request:

Suppose them silly, simple, and your owne;

To shed their blood were iust, yet rigorous,

The praise of Kings is to prooue gracious.

Fer.

True soule of honor substance of my selfe,

Thy merit wins thee mercy, goe in peace,

Lay by your vniust armes, liue by your sweate,

And in content the bread of quiet eate.

Om.

God saue Duke Ferdinand.

Exunt.

Ier.

Pray Father, forgiue me, and my man,

And my mans father by our single selues;

For we haue bin the capitall offendors.

O. Stilt.

I truely my Lord, we rais'd the resurrection,

Fer.

I pardon all; giue thee my Tasters place:

Honor this Prince that hath thus won you grace.

O: S., Y-S.

God saue Duke Ferdinand, and Prince Otho.

Ier.

I and me too.

O. Stilt.

And Prince Ierom too; well son, ile leaue thee a Courtier still, and get mee home to my owne desolation, where ile labour to compell away excessity: and so fare yee well.

Exit.

Fer.

This busines ouer: worthy nephew Charles ,

Let vs goe visit the sad Saxon Duke,

The mourning Hermet,

That through affection wrought his brothers fall.

Sarl.

Ile wait your Highnes to that house of woe,

Where sad mischance sits in a purple chayre,

And vnderneath her beetle cloudy browes

Smiles at vnlockt for mischiefes; oh there

[]

Doth griefe vnpainted, in true shape appeare.

Fer.

Shrill trumpets sound a flourish

For the cryes of war are drownd.

Exit

Ier,

Nay but cozen cozen, i'st not necessary I wait

Vpon myne owne father? and Stilt vpon me?

Sarl.

It's most expedient, be obsequious.

Noe doubt his excellence will like that well.

Enter Lorrique like a French Doctor.

Lor.

Dieu vou guard Mounsieur.

Sarl.

Welcome my friend, ha'st any suit to me?

Lor.

Away Mounsieur, if you be the grand Prince

Legitimate of Prussia , I haue for tendre

To your Excellence de service of one poore

Gentle home of Champaigne.

Sarl.

I am not he you looke for gentlemen,

My cozen is the true and lawfull Prince.

Ier.

I sir I am the legitimate, and am able to entertayne

A gentleman though I say't and he be of any quality.

Sarl,

Lorrique, now or neuer play thy part:

This Act is euen our Tragedies best hart.

Lor.

Let me alone for plots, and villany,

Onely commend me to this foole the Prince.

Ier.

I tell thee, I am the Prince, my cozen knowes it,

That's my cozen, this is Stilt my man.

Lor.

A vostree seruice Mounsieur most Genereux.

Sarl.

Noe doubt he is some cunning gentleman

Your Grace may doe a deede befitting you

To entertaine this stranger.

Ier.

It shall be done cozen; ile talke with him a little And follow you, goe commend me to my father Tell him I am comming, and Stilt, and this stranger, bee mindfull cozen, as you will answere to my Princely indignation.

[]

Sarl.

Well sir, I will be carefull, neuer doubt;

Now scarlet Mistris from thicke sable clouds

Thrust forth thy blood-staind hands, applaud my plot,

That giddy wonderers may amazed stand

While death smytes downe suspectles Ferdinand.

Exit.

Stilt.

Sweet Prince I scarce vnderstand this fellow well, but I like his conceit in not trusting Prince Otho; you must giue him the remooue that's flat.

Lor.

I be, gar, hee be chose agen you, hee giue you good worde so be dat, but he will haue one fisgig or dia by gar for company on in principality be no possible.

Ier.

Well, I apprehend thee, I haue a certaine Princely feeling in my selfe that he loues me not.

Stilt.

Hold yee there my Lord, I am but a poore fellow and haue but a simple liuing left me; yet my brother were he a very naturall brother of mine owne, should hee bee dopted, I would dopt him, and herrite him, i'le fit him.

Ier.

I but how Stilt, but how?

Lor.

By gar my Lord, I will tell you fine knacks, for make him kicke vp his heeles, and cry wee, or be gar I be hange, and so shall I be to, and for de grand loue I beare you, for de Lady Issabella's sake your most tres-excellent Lady moder.

Ier.

Didst, thou know her French doctor? didst thou?

Silt.

I as beggars doe the Ladies that are their Almesgigiuers.

Lor.

By gar you lye, like Iacknape, I loue de Lady. With a boone coeur, and for her sake here take dis same, and dis same, put dis in de cup, where de competitor Prince Otho shall drinke; by gar it will poyson him brauely.

Stilt.

That were excellent my Lord, and it could be done, and noe body know on't.

Ier.

I, but he alwaies drinkes in my Fathers cup.

Lor.

I so let be, let de Duke drinke a de same.

Ier.

What poyson my father? noe, I like not that so well.

[]

Lor.

You shall drinke too, and I too, and when wee bee sicke, as we shall haue a petit rumble in de belly; dan take a dis same, and giue your fadra dis: but your cozin none of it, and by gar noe body shall be dead, and kicka, and cry oh, but Otho .

Stilt.

That's excellent, master.

Ier.

This is the poyson then, and this is the medicine?

Lor.

I dat be true.

Ier.

Well Phisitian, attend in my chamber heere, till Stilt and I returne; and if I pepper him not, say I am not worthy to be cald a Duke, but a drawlatch.

Stilt.

Farewell awe, and iebbit a vow; and wee speede by thy practice wee'l crush a cup of thine owne country wine.

Lor.

Goe speede to spoyle your selues:

Doctor lie there,Lorrique; like thy selfe appeare

So now ile post vnto the Hermitage, and smile

While silly fooles act treason through my guile.

Exit

Actus quartus.

Enter Ferdinand and Sarlois, open a curtaine: kneele Saxony, the Hermet and Mathias: tapers burning.

Sarl.

See Princely vncle the blacke dormitory,

Where Austria and Prince Lodowick are layd

On the cold bed of earth, where they must sleepe

Till earth and ayre, and sea consume by fire.

Fer.

Their rest be peace, their rising glorious;

Sad mourners, giue your partners leaue to kneele,

And make their offertorie on this tombe,

That does containe the honourablest earth

That euer went vpright in Germany,

[]

Sax.

Welcome Duke Ferdinand, come, come, keele, kneele,

Thus should each friend anothers sorrow feele.

Sarl.

Is Lucibella in this monument?

Rod.

Noe, shee's recouer'd from deaths violence;

But through her woundes and griefe distract of sence.

Sarl.

Heauen helpe her, here she comes:

Enter Lucibella mad.

Rod.

Kneele still, I pray.

Mat.

Oh mee accurst! why liue I this blacke day!

Luc.

Oh a sword, I pray you kill me not,

For I am going to the riuers side

To fetch white lillies, and bew daffadils

To sticke in Lodowicks bosome, where it bled,

And in mine owne; my true loue is not dead,

Noe y'are deceiud in him, my father is:

Reason he should, he made me run away;

And Lodowick too, and you Mathias too;

Alacke for woe, yet what a the remedy?

We must run all awaye: yet all must dye.

'Tis soe, I wrought it in a sampler,

'Twas heart in hand, and true loues knots and words,

All true stitch by my troth: the posie thus:

No flight deare loue but death, shall seuer vs;

Nor that did not neyther; he lies here does he not?

Rod.

Yes louely madam, pray be patient.

Luc.

I so I am, but pray tell me true,

Could you be patient, or you, or you, or you,

To loose a father and a husband too:

Yee could, I cannot; open, doore here hoe!

Tell Lodowick, Lucibell would speake with him;

I haue newes from heauen for him, he must not dy,

I haue rob'd Prometheus of his moouing fire:

Open the dore, I must come in, and will,

Ile beate my selfe to ayre, but Ile come in.

[]

Sarl.

Alas her tender hands smiting the stone

Beweepe their mistris rage in teares of blood.

Ferd.

Faire Lady be of comfort, t'is in vaine

To inuocate the dead to life againe.

Sax.

I gentle Daughter be content, I pray,

Their fate is come, and ours is not, far off.

Mat.

Here is a hand ouer my fate hath power

And I now sinke vnder the stroke of death,

But that a purer spirit fils my brest

And guides me from the footsteps of dispaire,

Sarl.

A heauenly motion full of charity,

Your selfe to kil you selfe were such a sinne

As most diuines hold deadly.

Luc.

I but a knaue may kill one by a tricke,

Or lay a plot, or foe, or cog, or prate,

Make strife, make a mans father hang him,

Or his brother, how thinke you goodly Prince,

God giue you ioy of your adoption;

May nor trickes be vsd?

Sarl.

Alas poore Lady.

Luc.

I thats true, I am poore, and yet haue things.

And gold rings, and amidst the leaues greenea

Lord how dee, well I thanke god, why thats well,

And you my Lord, and you too; neuer a one weepe,

Must I shed all the teares? well he is gone,

And he dwells here ye sayd, ho i'le dwell with him,

Death, dastard, Diuell, robber of my life

Thou base adulterer, that partst man and wife

Come I defie thy darts.

Fer.

O sweet forbeare.

For pitties sake a while her rage restraine

Last she doe violence vpon herselfe.

Luc.

O neuer feare me, there is somewhat cries

Within menoe: tels me there's knaues abroad

[]

Bids mee be quiet, lay me downe and sleepe

Good night good gentlefolkes, brother your hand,

And yours good father, you are my father now,

Doe but stand here, I'le run a little course

At base, or barley-breake, or some such toye,

To catch the fellow, and come backe againe,

Nay looke thee now, let goe, or by my troth

Ile tell my Lodowick how yee vse his loue:

Soe now god-buye, now god-night indeede:

Lie further Lodowick take not all the roome,

Be not a churle, thy Lucibell doth come.

Exit

Sax.

Follow her brother, follow son Mathias,

Be carefull guardians of the troubled mayd;

Whiie I conferre with Princely Ferdinand

About an embassie to Austria,

With true reports of there disasterous haps.

Mat.

Well, I will bee her guardian and her guide,

By me her sences haue bin weakned,

But i'le contend with charitable paine,

To serue her, till they be restord againe.

Exit

Sarl.

A vertuous, noble resolution.

Fer.

Worthy Prince Rodorigo, when tempestuous woe

Abates her violent storme, I shall haue time

To chide you for vnkindenes, that haue liu'd

In solitary life with vs so long.

Beleue me Saxon Prince you did vs wrong:

Rod.

Would I might neuer liue in noe worse state;

For contemplation is the path to heauen.

My new conversing in the world is prou'd

Lucklesse and full of sorrow; fare-ye-well

My heauens, alone, all company seemes hell.

Exit.

Fer.

My nephew call for wine my soule is dry

[]

I am sad at sight of soe much misery.

Enter Ierom and Stilt, with cup, towell, and wine.

Sarl.

Is the Dukes taster there?

Ier.

I am at hand with my office.

Sarl.

Fill for the Duke good cozen, tast it first.

Ier.

I haue no minde to it Stilt, for all my antidote.

Stilt.

I warrant you Master let Prince Otho drinke next,

Ier.

Heere cozen, will you begin to my father?

Sarl.

I thanke you kindly, i'le not be so bold,

It is your offiice; fill vnto my Lord.

Ier.

Well god be with it, it's gon downe, and now ile send the medicine after; Father pray drinke to my cozen for hee is soe mannerly that hee'l not drinke before you.

Stilt.

Pray yee doe my Lord, for Prince Otho is best worthy of all this company to drinke of that cup, which and he doe, I hope he shall nere drinke more.

Fer,

Good fortune after all this sorrow Saxony .

Sax.

O worthy Ferdinand, fortune and I are parted, she has playd the minion with mee, turn'd all her fauours in to frownes, and in scorne rob'd mee of all my hopes, and in one houre o're-turnd mee from the top of her proud wheele.

Fer.

Build not on fortune, shee's a fickle dame

And those that trust vnto her spheare are fooles.

Fill for his Excellence.

Ier.

Here cozen for your Excellence, pray drinke you to the Duke of Saxony .

Sarl.

Not I kind cozen, I list not to drinke.

Ier.

Gods Lady, I thinke Stilt, wee are all vndone, for I feele a iumbling worse and worse.

Stilt.

O giue the Duke some of the medicine

Fer.

What medicine talk'st thou of? what ayles my son?

Ier.

O lord, father, and yee meane to be a liues man take some of this.

[]

Fer.

Why? this is deadly poyson vnprepar'd.

Ier.

True, but it was prepar'd for you and mee by an excellent fellow, a french Doctor?

Stilt.

I, he is one that had great cqre of you.

For.

Villaine what was he? drinke not Saxony

I doubt I am by treason poyson'd.

Sarl.

Heauen keepe that fortune from my dread Lord.

Enter Lorrique hastily.

Lor.

Treason ye Princes, treason to the liues

Of Ferdinand the Duke of Prussia

My Princely master! Otho of Luningberg

Sarl.

Who should intend vs treason?

Lor.

This fond Prince.

Ier.

Neuer to you Father, but to my cozen Charles ;indeede I meant to poyson him, but I haue pepperd my selfe.

Sarl.

I neuer gaue thee cause.

Stilt.

That's nothing to the purpose, but my Lord tooke occasion by the councell of a French Doctor.

Sarl.

Physitians for the Duke, my vncle faints.

Stilt.

Surgeons for the Prince, my master falls.

Fer.

Call no Phisitians, for I feel't too late,

The subtill poyson mingled with my blood

'Nums all the passages, and nimble death

Fleetes on his purple currents to my heart.

Ier.

Father, I am dying too, oh now I departe, Be good to Stilt my man, he was accessaryto all this.

Stils.

I truely: was I sir therefore I hope you'le be good to me, I helpt to mingle the poyson as the French Doctor, and my master charged me.

Fer.

What's that French Doctor?

Sarl.

What's become of him?

Stilt.

Wee left him in the court in my masters chamber.

[]

Ier.

I sir woe worth him, farewell Stilt, farewell fathers

I aske you pardon with repentant eyes;

Fall stars, O Stilt, for thus thy master dyes.

moritur

Fer.

Take hence that maytor for the foole his man.

Stilt.

I pray prouide for me sir;

Fer.

Let him be tortur'd, then vpon a wheele broke like a traytor and a murderer.

Stilt,

O lord sir. I meant you noe hurt, but to Prince Charles

Sarl.

Away, disturbe vs not with idle talke.

Stilt.

Prouide quoth a and you call this prouiding, pray let mee, prouide for my selfe, alas my poore father, hee'le creepe vppon crutches into his graue when, he heares his Proper'st Stilt is cut off by the stumpes.

Fer.

Hence with that fellow.

Stilt.

Pray, not soe hasty, you would scarce bee soe forward, and you were going as I am, to the gallowes.

Exeunt guard with Stilt.

Sarl.

How cheares my royall vncle t

Fer.

Like a ship that hauing long contended with

The waues, is at last with one proud billow

Smit into the ruthlesse swallow of the sea.

For thee alas I perceiue this plot was layde;

But heauen had greater mercy on thy youth,

And one my people, that shall finde true rest

Being with a Prince so wise and vertuous blest.

Farewell most noble Iohn of Saxony,

Beare thy vnmatched griefe with a minde bent

Against the force of all temptations;

By my example Princely brother, see,

How vaine our liues and all our glories bee.

Sax.

God for thy mercy! treason vpon treason,

[]

How now yong Otho what art thou poyson'd too?

Sarl.

Would God I were, but my sad starrs reserue

This simple building for extreamer ruine:

Oh that French doctor.

Lor.

I that worst of hell.

Noe torment shall content vs in his death.

Sax.

Nay soft and faire, let him be taken first;

How now sad brother, are you come to see

This Tragicke end of worthy Ferdinand?

Enter Rodorigo.

Rod.

I heard of it too soone, and come too late.

Sax.

Well brother leaue the Duke, and waite on mee;

Mathias, and the heartgreiu'd Lucibell

Shall goe with vs to Wittenberg, and shun

That fatall land fild with destruction.

Rod.

But Lucibella like a chased hinde

Flys through the thickets, and neglects the bryers,

After her runs your Princely son Mathias,

As much disturbd, though not so much distract,

Vowing to follow her, and if he can,

Defend her from dispairing actions.

Sax.

And we will follow them, Prince Otho adue

Care goes with vs, yet we leaue griefe with you,

Interre your vncle, punish traytours crimes,

Looke to your person, these are dangerous times,

Exit Saxony and Rodorigo.

Sarl.

Lords take this body, beare it to the court,

And all the way sound a sad heauy march,

Which you may truly keepe, then peeple treade

A mournefull march indeed,

Goe on afore, ile stay awhile, and weepe

My tributary teares paid on the ground

Where my true ioy your Prince my vncle fell:

[]

Ile follow to driue from you all distresse

And comfort you, though I be comfortles.

Art not thou plumpt with laughter my Lorrique,

Exeunt with the body. A march.

Lor.

All this excellent, but worthy Lord,

There is an accident this instant chanc'st

Able to ouerthrow in one poore howre

Aswell your hopes as these assurances.

Sarl.

Whats that Lorrique? what can fortune doe

That may diuert my straine of pollicy.

Lor.

You know all Prussia take you for the son

Of beautious Martha,

Sarl.

I they suppose me to be Otho her son,

And son to that false Duke whom I will kill

Or curse my stars

Lor.

His star is sunke already, death and he

Haue vowed an endlesse league of amity.

Sarl.

Had I Briareus hands, i'de striue with heauen

For executing wrath before the houre,

But wishes are in vaine, hee's gone.

Flourish.

Enter as many as may be spar'd, with lights, and make a lane kneeling while Martha the Dutchesse like a mourner with her traine passeth through.

Mar.

Our son is somewhat slacke as wee conceiue

By this delaying while our heart is fear'd,

And our eyes dim'd with expectation

As are the lights of such as on the beach

With many a longing, yet a little proofe

Stand wayting the returne of those they loue.

Enter Lorrique, fals on's knees.

Lord.

His Excellence no doubt hath great affaires

But his familiar friend Lorrique is come.

[]

Mar.

kneele not Lorrique, I prethee glad my harte

With thy tongues true report of my son Otho

Whome since his Princely Father is decea'st

I am come from —— —— opprest with griefe

In person to salute him for our Duke.

Lor.

Your mother like affection, and high care,

His Highnes doth returne with duteous thankes

Desiring pardon of your excellence,

In that he did not first salute your grace:

But dismal accidents and bloody deeds,

Poysoning's treasons, foe disturbe this state

Chiefly this gentle mind since the late death

Of your right princely brother Ferdinand

That like the carefull Captaine of a band

He is compeld to bee the last in field;

Yet he protests by me, and I for him:

That no soft rest shall enter his greeu'd eyes

Till he behold your presence, more desir'd

Then the large Empire of the wide earth;

Onely he prayes that you would take your rest

For in your soft content his heart is blest.

Mar.

Spread me a Carpet on the humble earth:

My hand shall be the pillow to my head,

This step my bolster, and this place my bed.

Lor.

Your Highnes will take harme.

Mar.

Nay, neuer feare.

A heart with sorrow fild sleepes any where,

Will our son come to night?

Lor.

Madam hee will.

Mar.

See our traine lodgd, and then Lorrique attend

For captaine of the guard; that wayt on vs,

Goe all away, no body stay with mee

Except our son, come if we chaunce to call,

Trouble vs not, god night vnto you all.

All with doing duty depart, and she sits downe hauing a candle by her, and reades.

[]

Quo fugiat mortale genus? nil denique tutum est,

Crudelis nam morsomnia falce secat?

Nil durum, nil non mortis penetrabile telis,

Omnia vi demit, mors vio lenta sua.

Tis true, the wise, the foole, the rich, the poore

The fayre, and the deformed fall; their life turnes

Ayre: the King and Captaine are in this alike

None hath free hold of life, but they are still

When death heauens steward comes, tennents at will.

I lay me downe, and rest in thee my trust,

If I wake neuer more, till all flesh rise

I sleepe a happy sleepe, sin in me dyes.

Enter Hoffman, and Lorrique.

Hoff.

Art sure she is a sleepe!

Lor,

I cannot tell, be not too hasty.

Hoff.

She stirs not, shee is fast.

Sleepe sweet fayre Dutchesse, for thou sleep'st thy last:

Endymions loue, muffle in cloudes thy face,

And all ye yellow tapers of the heauen

Vayle your cleare brightnes in Cimerian mistmis;

Let not one light my blacke deed beautiste;

For with one stroake vertue and honour dyes.

And yet we must not kill her in this kind:

Weapons draw blood, blood shed will plainely prooue

The worthy Dutchesse, worthles of this death

Was murdered, and the guard are witnesses,

None enter'd but our selues.

Lor.

Then strangle her, here is a towell fit.

Hoff.

Good: kneele and helpe, compasse her necke about,

Alas poore Lady thou sleep'st here secure

And neuer dream'st of what thou shalt endure.

Lor.

Nay, good my Lord dispatch.

Hoff.

What ruthlesse hinde

Shall I wrong nature that did ne're compose

[]

One of her sexe so perfect? prethee stay,

Suppose we kill her thus about her necke,

Circles of purple blood will change the hue

Of this white porphirie and the red lines

Mixt with a deadly blacke, will tell the world

She dyed by violence, then t'will be inquir'd

And we held euer hatefull for the act.

Lor.

Then place beneath her nostrils this small box

Conteyning such a powder that hath power,

Being set on fire to suffocate each sence

Without the sight of wound, or shew of wrong.

Hoff.

That's excellent, fetch fire, or doe not, stay:

The candle shall suffice, yet that burnes dim;

And drops his waxen teares as if it mourn'd

To be an agent in a deed so darke.

Lor.

Will you confound your selfe by dotage speake,

S'wounds ile confound her, and shee linger thus.

Hoff.

Thou wer't as good, and better, —— note my words:

Run vnto the top of dreadfull scarre,

And thence fall headlong on the vnder rocks,

Or set thy brest against a cannon fir'd,

When iron death flies thence on flaming wings,

Or with thy shoulders, Atlas like attempt,

To beare the ruines of a falling tower,

Or swim the Ocean; or run quicke to hell;

(as dead assure thy selfe no better place)

Then once looke frowning on this angells face

Confound her? blacke confusion be my graue

Whisper one such word more, thou dyest base slaue.

Lor.

I haue done, ile honor her if you command

Hoff.

She stirs, and when she wakes obserue me well,

Sooth vp what ere, I say, touching Prince Otho.

Mar.

Prince Otho , is our son come? who's there Lorrique?

Lor.

What shall I answere her?

Mar.

Whose that thou talkst with?

[]

Hoff.

The most indebted seruant to your Grace

Of any creature vnderneath the Moone.

Mar.

I prethee friend be briefe, what is thy name?

I know thee not, what businesse hast thou here?

Art thou a messenger come from our son?

If so acquaint vs with the newes thou bring'st.

Hoff.

I saw your Highnes son,Lorrique here knowes,the last of any liuing.

Mar.

Liuing? heauen helpe,

I trust my son h'as no commerce with death.

Hoff.

Your son noe doubt is well, in blessed state.

Mar.

My heart is smitten through thy answere,

Lorrique, where is thy gracious Lord?

Lor.

In heauen I hope.

Hoff.

True madam, he did perish in the wracke

When he came first by sea from Lubecke hauen.

Mar.

What false impostor then hath mock't my care?

Abus'd my Princely brother Ferdinand?

Gotten his Dukedome in my dead sons name?

Hoff.

I grant him an impostor, therein false

But when your Highnes heares the circumstance,

I know your wisedome and meeke piety

Will Iudge him well deseruing in your eyes.

Mar.

What can be sayd now I haue lost my son?

Or how can this base two-tongu'd hypocrite

Excuse concealing of his masters death.

Vnhappy Martha, in thy age vndone,

Robd of a husban'd, cheated of a son.

Hoff.

Heare me with patience for that pitties sake

You shewed my captiue body, by the teares

You shed, when my poore father dragd to death

Indur'd all violence at theyr hands:

By all the mercies powrd on him and me

That like coole rayne somewhat allayd the heate

Of our sad torment, and red sufferings;

Here me but speake a little to repay

[]

With gratitude the fauours I receiu'd.

Mar.

Art thou the lucklesse son of that sad man

Lord of Burtholme some time admirall?

Hoff.

I was his onely son, whom you set free,

Therefore submissiuely I kneele and craue,

You would with patience heare your seruant speake;

Mar.

Be briefe, my swolne heart is at poynt to breake.

Hoff.

I stood vpon the top of the high scarre,

Where I beheld the splitted ship let in

Deuouring ruine in the shape of waues,

Some got on Rafts, but were as soone cast off

As they weare seated; many strid the mast,

But the seas working was soe violent,

That nothing could preserue them from their fury,

They did and were intombed in the deepe.

Except some two the surges washt a shore

Prince Charles being one, who on Lorriques backe

Hang with claspt hands, that neuer could vnfold,

Mar.

Why not aswell as he Lorrique doth liue,

Or how was he found claspt vpon his backe

Except he had had life to fold his hands.

Hoff.

Madam, your Highnes errs in that conceite,

For men that dye by drowning, in their death,

Hold surely what they claspe, while they haue breath.

Lor.

Well he held mee, and sunke me too.

Hoff.

Ile witnes, when I had recouerd him

The Princes head being split against a Rocke

Past all recouer,Lorrique in desperate rage,

Sought sundry meanes to spoyle his new-gain'd life,

Exclay minge for his master: cursing heauen,

For being vniust to you, though not to him,

For robbing you of comfort in your son

Oh gratious Lady sayd this grieued man

Could I but worke a meanes to cald me her griefe.

Some reasonable course to keepe blacke care

From her white bosome; I were happy then;

[]

But knowing this, her heart will sinke with woe

And I, am rankt with miserablest men,

Lor.

I gods my witnesse, these were my laments,

Till Hoffman being as willing, as my selfe;

Did for his loue to you, that pittied him,

Take on him to be cald by your sons name,

Which now he must refuse except your Grace

Attept his seruice in Prince Otho's place,

Mar.

If this that you protest be true, your care

Was like a long reprieue, the date worne out;

The execution of my woe is come,

And I must suffer it with patience:

Where haue you layd the body of my son?

Hoff.

Within the chappell of an hermitage,

Some halfe a myle hence.

Mar.

Ile build mee there a Cell,

Made like a tombe, till death, therein ile dwell:

Yet for thy wrongs yong man attend my words

Snce neyther Ferdinand, nor Saxony,

Haue any heires, to sway their seuerall states;

Ile worke what lies in me to make thee Duke,

And since thou art accepted for my son,

Attempting it onely to doe me good

I here adopt thee: myne christen thee Otho,

Mine eyes are now the font, the water teares,

That doe baptize thee in thy borrowed name.

Hoff.

I thanke your Highnes, and of iust heauen craue

The ground I wrong you in, may turne my graue.

Mar.

Lights to our chamber, now our feares are past,

What we long doubted, is prou'd true at last.

Attend vs sonne.

Exeunt Martha and Lorrique.

Hoff.

Wee'l wait vpon your Grace.

Son, this is somewhat, this will beare the eyes

Of the rude vulgar, but this serues not me;

Dukedomes I will haue them my sword shall win,

[]

If any interposer crosse my will,

But new made mother, ther's another fire

Burnes in this liuer lust, and hot desire,

which you must quench; must? I and shall; I know

Women will like how euer they say noe;

And since my heart is knit vnto her eyes

If she, being sanctimonious, hate my suit,

In loue this course ile take, if she denie;

Force her: true, soe: si non blanditijis, vi.

Exit.

Actus quintus.

Enter Saxony, Rodorique, Mathias: seuerally.

Mat.

Haue you not found her yet?

Sax.

Not I,

Rod.

Nor I.

Mat.

Then I beleeue borne by her fits of rage

She ha's done violence to her bright fame,

And falne vpon the bosome of the Balt.

Sax.

What reason leads yee to beleeue it, son?

Mat.

I did perceiue her some halfe houre since

Clambring vpon the steepenes of the rocke,

But whether vp or downe I could not guesse

By reason of the distance.

Enter Lucibella with rich clothes,

Rod.

Stand aside, she comes, let her not scape vs now.

Sax.

What has shee got apparrell? I and rich,

Poore soule, shee in her idle lunacy

Hath tooke it from some house where t'will be mist.

Mat.

Lets circle her about, least spying vs

she run away with wonted nimblenesse,

[]

Fayrest well met.

Luc.

Well ouertaken sir.

Sax.

What haue ye here?

Luc.

And you too heartely.

Rod.

I am sure you know.

Luc.

Why that's well, I like that, that you are well and you, and you: god buye.

Sax.

Nay, nay you must not goe, wee'l hold you now.

Luc.

Why that's well done, Pray come, see my house

I haue a fine house now, and goodly knacks

And gay apparrell; looke ye here, this is braue;

And two leane porters staru'd for lacke of meat,

Pray let goe mine armes, looke here they bee.

Om.

Oh horrid sight!

Luc.

Nay, neuer start I pray; is it not like I keepe

A princely house, when I haue such fat porters at my gate,

Sax:

What should this meane? why in this wood

So thicke, so solitary, and remote

From common road of men, should these hang thus?

Brother your Hermitage is not far hence,

When knew you any execution here?

Rod.

I neuer knew any, and these bones are greene,

This lesse anatomy hath not hung long

The bigger, by the mosse and drynes seemes

Of more continuance.

Mat.

What's on there heads?

Luc.

why golden Crownes, my porters shall bee Kings,

And hide there bare bones with these gay weeds.

Sarx.

I doe remember the Admirall

Hoffman, that kept the Iland of Burtholme

Was by the Duke of Prussia adiudg'd

To haue his head sear'd with a burning crowne,

And after made a bare Anatomy,

Which by his son was from the gallowes stolne;

Luc.

I, that same son of his, but where liues he

Sax.

No doubt, he doth possesse some caue hard by.

[]

Luc.

Come, goe with me, ile shew you where he dwels,

Or some body; I know not who it is;

Here, looke, looke here, here is a way goes downe,

Downe, downe a downe, hey downe, downe.

I sung that song, while Lodowicke slept with me.

Rod.

This is some Caue, let's boldly enter in,

And learne the mistery of that sad sight,

Come Lady, guide vs in, you know the way.

Luc.

True, thats the way, you cannot misse the path;

The way to death and black destruction

Is the wide way; no body is now at home,

Or tarry, peraduenture here comes some will tell you more.

Enter Martha, and Lorrique:

Mat.

Stand close, this is Lorrique, I doe not know the

Lady comes with him.

Sax.

I ha' seene that countenance.

Rod.

Stand close, I pray, my heart diuines,

Some strange and horrid act will be reueald.

Luc.

Nay that's most true, a fellow with a red cap told me so

And bad me keepe these cloathes, and giue them

To a faire Lady in a mourning gowne;

Let goe my armes; I will not run away

I thanke you now, now you shall see mee stay,

By my troth I will, by my maidenhead I will.

Mar.

Lorrique returne into the beaten path,

I ask't thee for a solitary plot,

And thou hast brought me to the dismal'st groue

That euer eye beheld, noe woodnimphes here

Seeke with their agill steps to outstrip the Roe,

Nor doth the sunsucke from the queachy plot

The ranknes and the venom of the Earth

It seemes frequentlesse for the vse of men:

Some basiliskes, or poysonous serpents den!

[]

Lor.

It is indeede an vndelightfull walke;

But if I doe not erre in my beleefe,

I thinke the ground, the trees, the rockes, the springs,

Haue since my Princely Master Charles his wracke

Appear'd more dismall, then they did before,

In memory of his vntimelesse fall.

For hereabouts, hereabouts the place,

Where his fayre body lay deform'd by death

Here Hoffmans son, and I enbalm'd him

After we had concluded to deceaue

Your sacred person, and Duke Ferdinand

By causing Hoffman to assume his name.

Sax.

This is very strange.

Luc.

Nay tary, you shall heare all the knauery anon.

Mar.

And where's the Chappell that you layd him in?

Lor.

I'ts an old Chappell, neere the Hermitage:

Mar.

But was the Hermet at his buriall?

Lor.

Noe, Hoffman and I onely dig'd the graue

Play'd Priest and Clarke, to keepe his buriall close?

Rod.

Most admirable!

Sax.

Nay, pray you peace.

Mar.

Alas! poore son, the soule of my delights;

Thou in thy end wert rob'd of Funerall rites,

None sung thy requiem, noe friend clos'd thine eyes,

Nor layd the hallowed earth vpon thy lips,

Thou wert not houseled, neither did the bells ring

Blessed peales, nor towle thy funerall knell,

Thou wentst to death, as those that sinke to hell;

Where is the apparrell that I bad him weare

Against the force of witches and their spells.

Lor.

We buried it with him, it was his shroude,

The desert woods noe fitter meanes allowd.

Luc.

I thinke he lyes.

Now by my troth, that gentleman smels knaue.

Mar.

Sweare one thing to me, ere we leaue this place; []Whether young Hoffman did the most he might to saue my son.

Lor.

By heauen it seemes hee did, but all was vaine

The flinty rockes had cut his tender scull,

And the rough water wash't away his braine.

Luc.

Lyer, lyer, licke dish.

Mar.

How now what woman's this? what men are these?

Luc.

A poore mayden mistris, ha's a suite to you,

And 'tis a good suite, very good apparrell.

Loe, heere I come a woing my ding, ding,

Loe, heere we come a suing, my darling,

Loe, heere I come a praying, to bidea, bidea.

How doe you Lady, well I thanke God, will you buy a bargane i pray, i'ts fine apparrell.

Mar.

Run my liues blood, comfort my troubled heart,

That trembles at the sight of this attire:

Lorrique, looke on them, knowest thou not these clothes?

Nor the distracted bringer? prethee speake.

Lor.

Ay me, accurst and damn'd; I know them both;

The bringer is the Austrian Lucibell:

Luc.

I, you say true, I am the very same,

Lor.

The apparrell was my Lords, your Princely son's.

Mar.

This is not sea wet, if my son were drown'd

Then why thus dry is his apparrell found?

Lor,

O me accurst, o miserable me?

Fall heauen, and hide my shame, gape earth, rise sea,

Swallow, orewhelme me, wherefore should I liue,

The most perfidious wretch that euer breath'd,

And base consenter to my deare Lords death.

Luc.

Nay, looke you heere, do you see these poore staru'd ghosts; can you tell whose they be?

Mar.

Alas! what are they? what are you that seeme

In ciuill habits to hide ruthlesse hearts;

Lorrique, what are they? what wilt thou attempt?

[]

Helpe Gentlemen, if yee be Gentlemen,

And stay this fellow from dispayring ill.

Lor.

I was ordain'd vnto perdition, stay me not;

For when yee know the mischiefes I haue done,

(at least, consented to, through coward feare)

You would not stop me, if I skipt in quicke

To that blacke, bottomlesse and ruthlesse, gulph,

Where euerlasting sorrowes like linkt chaynes

Fetter the wretched in eternall night.

Mar.

what hast thou done?

Luc.

Knauery I warrant you, tell truth and shame the Diuell my boy, doe, and thou shalt haue a fine thing by and by.

Sax.

I take your Highnes for that reuerend Dutches

Late wife vnto the Duke of Prussia .

Mar.

I am the wretched childlesse widdow sir.

Lor.

Princesse heare me, and I will briefely tell

How you came childlesse, you brotherlesse,

You husbandlesse, and fatherlesse, all, all,

Ile tell you, hauing ended, act my fall.

Mat.

Well, forward;

Lor.

Be it soe, I haue deseru'd a greater cruelty,

To bee kept liuing when I long to dye.

Mar.

I charge thee setting by all circumstance,

Thou vtter what thou knowest: my heart is steele,

Nor can it suffer more then it doth feele.

Lor.

Then thus, Prince Charles and I escap't the wracke,

Came safe a shore to this accursed plot,

Where we met Hoffman, who vpon yon tree

Preseru'd his fathers bare anatomy,

The biggest of them two were those strong bones

That acted mighty deeds.

Hoffman the son full of reuenge and hate,

'Gainst euery hand that wrought his fathers hurt,

Yet guilded ore his enuie with faire shewes,

And entertain'd vs with as friendly termes

[]

As falshood could inuent; and 'tis well knowne:

Bitter deceit vseth the sweetest speech.

At length he tooke aduantage, bound my Lord,

And in a chayne tyed him to yonder rocke,

While with a burning Crowne he seard in twaine

The purple Veynes, strong sinewes, arteries, nerues,

And euery cartilage about the head,

In which sad torment the mild Prince fell dead.

Mar.

Did Hoffman this? and thou conceal'st the deed?

Lor.

Pardon my feare, Dread Madam.

Mar.

well, goe on, I am confident to heare all cruelty,

And am resolu'd to act some, if noe hand

Will else attempt the murderers end, but mine.

Lor.

Be patient; you will finde associates:

For there are many murderers more behinde.

Mar.

what did hee with the body of my son?

Lor.

Buried the flesh, the bones are they that hang

Close by his fathers.

Mar.

Let them hang a while

Hope of reuenge in wrath doth make mee smile.

Luc.

Pray let him tell the rest.

Lor.

This acted, Hoffman forc't me to conceale

The murder of my Lord, and threatned more

Then death by many torments, till I swore

To call him Otho, and say he was your son

I swore and kept my oath.

Rod.

O Heauen.

Sax.

O Diuell.

Luc.

Nay, I pray you peace.

Lor.

Then sent he me for you, and you he sent,

Or as I best remember, lead you on

Vnto the Chappell porch, where hee himselfe

Appointed them to stay, and there you know

What hapned in your wrath.

Luc.

To me a sleepe,

And to my harmelesse Lodowick in my armes.

[]

Mat.

On on, that deed is writ among the acts of guilt:

A brothers sword a brothers life blood spilt.

Sax.

Proceed, what's next? kild he not Austria?

Lor.

He did.

Luc.

O villaine did he kill my Father?

And make my brother kill my husband too?

Sax.

Goe forward.

Lor.

After all those hated murders

He taught the foolish prince in the disguise

Of a French Doctor to prepare a poyson,

Which was the death of Princely Ferdinand:

Next plot hee purpos'd your graces death,

And had opposd my strength of my teares,

You had bin murder'd as you lay a sleepe.

Sax.

Let's heare no more, seeke out the hated wretch,

And with due torture let his life be forc'd

From his despised body.

Rod.

Doe I pray.

Sax.

All the Land will helpe,

And each man be a iustice in this act.

Mar.

Well, I that neuer knew reuenges power,

Haue entertaind her newly in my brest:

Determine what's to doe.

Luc.

Euen what you will; would I were with my Lodowick a sleepe

In the Elizian fieldes, where no feares dwell;

For earth appeares as vile to me as hell.

Lor.

Let me be Prologue to your scene of wrath,

And as the Romane Cateline resolu'd

His doubtfull followers by exhausting blood

From the liue body, so draw mine, cast mine

Vpon the troubled and offended earth;

Offer blood fit for an infernall sacrifice,

Wine is not powr'd but on celestiall offrings:

Therefore I aduise you

As you hope to thriue in your reuenge, smite me.

[]

That haue bin pander to this iniury.

Mar.

Thou merit'st death indeede.

Mat.

Stay iudge him not, let me a little plead in his excuse,

And this one sentence serues; a man compel'd

To euill acts, cannot be iustly held

A wilfull malefactor; the law still

Lookes vpon the deede, ne're on the will:

Besides although I grant the matter small

And very safe to rayse a multitude,

That by their power might ceaze the murderer,

Yet two especiall reasons crosse that course:

First: many hauing notice of our plot,

One babling tongue may vtter out intent,

And Hoffman being warn'd is surely arm'd

Hauing the fort and treasure in his powre,

And be his cause more then notorious ill,

He may with gold maintaine it at his will

Scape vs, for no doubt hee's full of sleights:

Besides, Reuenge should haue proportion,

By slye deceit he acted euery wronge,

And by deceit I would haue him intrapt;

Then the reuenge were fit, iust, and square,

And t'would more vex him that is all compos'd

Of craft and subtilty to be outstript

In his owne fashion, then a hundred deaths.

Therefore by my aduice pardon Lorrique

Vpon condition, that he lay some plot

To intercept the other.

Om.

We are agreede.

Lor.

Your mercy doth all bounds of hope exceed,

And if you will repose that trust in me,

By all the protestations truth can make,

Before the Sun haue run his mid-dayes course,

I will to morrow yeeld him to your handes.

Sax.

Shew vs the meanes.

[]

Lor.

The meanes is in the Dutchesse pollicy.

If she can smooth the murder but a while.

Mar.

Ile turn deceit to ouerthrow his fraud.

Lor.

Then with faire words his flatteries entertayne,

And when he doth importune you for loue,

Desire him first to shew you the first place,

Where he beheld Prince Charles after the wracke

Say you haue earnestly entreated me,

But I haue lead you in a labyrinth

Of noe effect; he full of heate and lust,

Glad of occasion will no doubt alone

Conduct you to this fatall horrid caue,

Thi king by force, or fayre meanes, to attaine

His false hearts longing, and your honors stayne;

But being in the height of his base pride,

The Duke, the Hermet, Lodowick and my selfe,

Will change his pleasures into wretched

And redeemelesse misery.

Sax.

The plot is good, Madam, are you agreed?

Mar.

To any thing how euer desperate.

Luc.

I but by your leaue, Lady, and Lords all, what if

This knaue that has bin, play the knaue still,

And tell tales out of schoole; how then?

Lor.

I know not what to sweare by; but noe soule

Longs for the sight of endlesse happinesse,

With more desire, then mine thirsts for his death:

By all the gods that shall giue ill men life,

I am resolu'd chiefe agent in his end.

Mat.

We credit thee, ioyne hands, and ring him round,

Kneele, on his head lay our right hands, and sweare

Vengeance against Hoffman.

Om.

Vengeance, vengeance, fall

On him, or suddaine death vpon vs all.

Sax.

Come, part, we to the caue,

You to the Court:

Iustice dig murthers graue.

[]

Exit Lorrique and Martha.

Luc.

Nay, Ile come, my wits are mine agen

Now faith growes firme to punish faithlesse men.

Exeunt.

Enter Hoffman, and all the traine that attended the Dutchesse first.

Hoff.

Not to be found? hell which way is she gon?

Lord.

Her Highnes charg'd vs to call you her son,

The mistery we know not, but we know,

You are not Princely Otho of Luningberg.

Hoff.

Noe matter what I am; tell me the way she went

With that Lorrique; speake, or by heauen

Hell shall receiue you all.

Enter Martha, and Lorrique.

Lord.

Be not in rag'd she comes,

And with her comes trusty Lorrique.

Hoff.

Madam, I fear'd you, and my heart was sicke,

With doubt some ouer-desperate accident

Had drawne you to the melancholy pathes,

That lye within the verge of this rough scarre.

Mar.

Your doubt was but an Embrio; I indeed

Desir'd Lorrique to bring me to the place

Where you beheld the shipwracke of my son;

And he hath led me vp and downe the wood,

But neuer brought me to the fatall beach,

Hoff.

It were not fit you should see the sad place,

That still seemes dismall since the Princes death.

Lord.

Dead? is our soueraigne Lord the Prince dead?

Mar.

Inquire no more of that, I will anon

Resolue you of his fate, this time forbeare,

Esteeme this gentleman your Lord and Prince.

[]

Lor.

Wee hold him soe, sith you command vs so.

Hoff.

Will you goe forward, Madam?

Mar.

Willingly, soe you will promise mee to walke to morrow

And see the Earth that gently did receiue

My sons wrack't body from the churlish fome.

Hoff.

Ile wayt vpon your Grace, set forward there,

Trickes, and deuices! longings! well 'tis good:

Ile swim to my desires, through seas of blood.

Exeunt.

Lor.

Fox you'l be taken, hunter you are falne

Into the pit you dig'd; I laught to see

How I out-strip the Prince of villany.

Hoffman for me told such a smoothing tale,

That had not this strange accident befalne

In finding of the caue; I had bin held

More deere then euer, in the Dutchesse eyes:

But now shee'l hold me hard, what ere she say,

Yet is her word past that shee'l pardon me,

And I haue wealth hoor'd vp which ile beare

To some strange place: rich men liue any where.

Enter Hoffman.

Hoff.

What? are you gadding sir? what mooues your flight?

Coyne not excuses in your crouching come,

What cause haue you to flie and seeke strange hoords

For your wealth gotten by my liberall gift?

Lor.

And my desert, my Lord.

Hoff.

Well be it your desert;

But what's the cause you'l flye this country?

Lor.

As I liue, my Lord, I haue noe such intent;

But with your leaue, I was debating things,

As if it should chaunce thus, and thus, why then

'Twere better be far of, but otherwise

My loue and life, low at your seruice lye.

Hoff.

You are a villaine damn'd as low as hell;

An hypocrite, a fawning hypocrite:

[]

I know thy heart, come Spaniell vp, arise,

And thinke not with your antickes and your lies

To goe beyond mee, you haue play'd the slaue,

Betrayd me to the Dutchesse, told her all,

Disappoynting all my hopes with your base tongue,

Oreturn'd the height of my intendments,

For which ile hurle thee from my mountaine wracke,

Into the lowest Cauerne of pale death.

Lor.

Alas my Lord forbeare, let me be heard.

Hoff.

Thou hast betrayd me, therefore neuer talke.

Lor.

By heauen ——

Hoff.

O hell! why should'st thou thinke on heauen.

Lor.

Stay, and beleeue me, thinke you I am mad,

Soe great a foe to my owne happy chaunce,

When things are sorted to so good an end,

That all is hid, and we held in regard:

After such horrid, and perfidious acts,

Now to betray my selfe; be reasonable,

And thinke how shallow such an act would secure

In me, chiefe agent in so many ills.

Hoff.

Thou hast a tongue as glib and smooth to lyes,

As full of false inuentions, and base fraud,

As prone to circumuent beleeuing soules,

As euer heretique or traytor vsd,

Whose speeches are as hony, their acts gall,

Their words rayse vp, but their hands ruine all.

Lor.

By vertues glorious soule.

Hoff.

Blasphemer peace, sweare not by that thou hat'st;

Vertue, and thou haue no more sympathie,

Then day with night, Heauen with Hell.

Thou knowest, I know thy Villanyes excell

Lor.

Why then by villany, by blood, by sleightes,

By all the horrours tortures can present,

By Hell, and by reuenges purple hand

The Dutchesse had no conference with me,

[]

But onely a desire to see the place

That first receiu'd her son, whom she beleeues

The vnrelenting waues and flinty rocks,

Had seuer'd from sweet life after the wracke.

Hoff.

May I beleeue thee?

Lor.

Haue I fayld you yet?

Measure my former acts and you shall find

My soule allyed to yours, wholly estrang'd

From all I euer lou'd.

Hoff.

Noe more, haue done.

Tha'st won me to continue thee my friend;

But I can tell thee somewhat troubles me,

Some dreadfull misaduenture my soule doubts,

And I conceiue it with noe common thought,

But a most potent apprehension;

For it confounds imaginary sence,

Sometimes inflames my blood, another while

'Nums all the Currents that should comfort life,

And I remayne as 'twere a senceles stone.

Lor.

Come, come, I know the cause, you are in loue,

And to be soe, is to be any thing.

Doe you not loue the Dutchesse?

Hoff.

Yes, I doe.

Lor.

Why there's the matter, then, be ruld by me,

To morrow morning she desires to see

The shore, that first receiu'd her sea-wrackt son,

And to be vnaccompained she loues;

Except some one or two, you and I:

Now when you haue her neare your dismal I caue,

Force her, I dot man, make no scruple do't,

Else you shall neuer win her to your bed:

Doe a mans part, please her before she goe,

Or if you see, that she turnes violent,

Shut her perpetuall prisoner in that den;

Make her a Philomel, proue Tereus:

Do't, neuer feare it.

[]

Hoff,

Why she will be mist.

Lor.

By whom? by fooles, grosse, dull, thicke sighted fooles,

whom euery mist can blinde, I'le sway them all,

With exclamation that the grieued Dutchesse

when she beheld the sea that drownd her son,

Stood for a while like weeping Niobe,

As if she had bin stone: and when we striu'd

With milde perswasions to make leste her woe

She madder than the wife of Athamas

Leap't suddenly into the troubled sea,

Whose surges greedy of soe rich a prey,

Swallowed her vp, while we in vaine exclaym'd

'Gainst Heauen and hell, 'gainst fortune and her fate.

Hoff.

Oh my good villaine! how I hug thy plots,

This shall be done, shee's mine: run swift slow houres,

Make a short night hasten on day apace,

Rough armes waxe soft beauty to embrace.

Lor.

Why soe, now your feare will quickly end,

Hoff.

Thou wilt not talke of this?

Lor.

Will I be hang'd?

Nee're take me for a blab, you'l finde me none.

Hoff.

I haue another secret, but ——

Lor.

Come what ist? come, this brest is yours,

My heart's your treasury.

Hoff.

Thou must be secret, 'tis a thing of weight concernes thee neere.

Lor.

Were it as neere as life, come, pray speake.

Hoff.

Hearke in thine eare, I would not haue the ayre

Be priuy to this purpose, wilt thou sweare?

Lor.

What? to bee secret? if the least iot I tell

Let all my hopes sinke suddenly to hell.

Hoff.

Thou hast thy wish, downe villaine, keepe this close.

Lor,

Vnthankefull murtherer, is this my meede?

Oh slaue, tha'st kild thy heart in wounding mine,

This is my day, tomorrow shall be thine.

Hoff.

Goe foole; now thou art dead, I neede not feare.

[]

Yet as thou wert my seruant iust and true,

Ile hide thee in the ditch: giue dogs there due,

He that will proue a mercenary slaue

To murder, seldome findes soe good a graue,

Hee's gone, I can now spare him,Lorrique farewell;

Commend me to our friends thou meet'st in hell:

Next plot for Mathias and old Saxony,

There ends shall finish our blacke tragedy.

Exit.

Enter Saxony, and Mathias.

Sax.

How little care had we to let her 'scape,

Especially on this so needfull time,

When we are vowed to wayt vpon reuenge.

Mat.

Noe doubt our vncles care will keepe her safe,

Nor is she in her fits so violent

As she was wont, looke where my

Vncle comes, sustayning with one hand

A dying man, and one the other side,

Fayre Lucibell supports the fainting body.

Enter Rodorique, and Lucibell leading Lorrique.

Luc.

Looke you here, you maruai'ld why I went,

Why this man drew me vnto him, can you helpe

Him now. Hoffman has hought him too.

Saz.

Brother who ist you bring thus ashe pale;

I'st not Lorrique?

Lor.

I am, and 'tis in vayne to striue for longer hope.

I cannot, onely be prouident; I greatly feare

The murdrous traytor out of meere suspect

Will plot some stratagem against the life

Of the chast Dutchesse, help her what you can,

Against the violence of that wicked man.

Rod.

Hast thou not told him, what we doe intend?

[]

Lor.

Noe, as heauen help mee in my wretched end,

Be confident of that, now I must fall

Neuer agen to rise, you know his wrongs:

Be carefull Princes to reuenge them all.

Luc,

Well, farewell fellow, thou art now paid home

For all thy councelling in knauery,

Good Lord! what very fooles are very knaues!

There cunning bodies often want due graues.

Sax.

Son, daughter, brother, follow my aduice,

Let vs noe longer keepe this hatefull plot,

Least we be circumuented.

Rod.

True, 'tis to put on open armes.

Mat.

Tis now too late, we are beset

With souldiers, we must fight, and since it must be;

Let's to't valiantly.

Enter Dutchesse: Lord, with souldiers.

Lord.

Princes prepare not to resist your foes,

Wee are as firme as life vnto your blood.

The Dutchesse Martha greetes old Saxony,

Prince Mathias, Rodorick, and fayre Lucibell:

To me she hath discouer'd the damnd plots

Of that perfidious Hoffman, and hath sent

These armed souldiers, to attend on you.

Sax.

We thanke her Highnes, but we thinke in vaine

Both you and we attend; Lorrique lyes slaine

By Hoffmans slye suspition; best be ioyn'd

To apprehend him publiquely.

Lord.

There is no need, our Dutchesse hath apparrel'd

Her speech in a greene liuery,

She salutes him faire, but her heart

Like his actions, is attir'd

In red, and blew, and sable ornaments.

Sax.

But tell vs where they are?

Lord,

At hand she comes, with him alone her plot is,

[]

She comes in happy time for all your good.

Mat.

Cease words, vse deedes

Reuenge drawes nigh.

Sax.

Come set his body like a scarcrow,

This bush shroud you, this you,

Stand close true souldiers, for reuenge.

Luc.

I: doe, doe, doe, I pray you heartely doe, Stand close.

Enter Hoffman and Dutchesse.

Hoff.

I wonder much why you aske me for Lorrique,

What is Lorrique to you, or what to me?

I tell you he is damn'd, enquire no more,

His name is hatefuller then death.

Mar.

Heauen! what alterations these!

Can I beleeue you loue mee as you swore,

When you are so inconstant to your friend?

Hoff.

He is noe friend of mine whom you affect,

Pardon me Madam, such a fury raignes

Ouer my boyling blood, that I enuy

Any one on whom you cast an amorous eye.

Mar.

What growne so louing? marry heauen defend,

Wee shall deceiue you if you dote on vs,

Fot I haue sworne to lead a widdowes life,

And neuer more to be tearm'd married wife.

Hoff.

I, but you must.

Mar.

Must? vse not force, I pray.

Hoff.

Yeild to my loue, and then with meekest words

And the most humble actions, ile intreat

Your sacred beauty; deny me? ile turne fire,

More wild then wrath, come then agree,

If not to marry, yet in vnseene sports

To quench these Lawlesse heates that burne in me.

Mar.

What my adopted son become my louer?

And make a wanton minion of his mother?

Now fie vpon you fie y'are too obsceane

[]

If like your words, your thoughts appeare vncleane.

Hoff.

By heauen I doe not ieast, goe to, belieue me,

'Tis well you laugh; smile on, I like this:

Say, will you yeild?

Mar.

At the first? fie noe.

That were an abiect course, but let vs walke

Into some couert, there are pretty caues,

Lucky to louer suites, for Virgil sings;

That Dido being driuen by a sharpe storme

Into a Lybian caue, was there intic'd

By siluer-tongu'd Æneas to affect;

And should you serue me soe, I were vndone,

Disgrac'd in Germany by euery Boore,

Who in their rymes woud iest at Marthas name

Calling her mynion to her cozen son.

Hoff.

Fayrer then Dido, or loues amorous Queene;

I know a caue, wherein the bright dayes eyes

Look't neuer but a skance through a small creeke,

Or little cranny of the fretted scarre;

There I haue sometimes liu'd, there are fit seates,

To sit and chat, and coll, and kisse, and steale

Loues hidden pleasures, come, are you disposd

To venter entrance? if you be, assay,

'Tis death to quicke desire, vse no delay.

Mar.

Vertue and modesty bids me say noe,

Yet trust me Hoffman tha'rt so sweet a man,

And so belou'd of me, that I must goe.

Hoff.

I am crown'd the King of pleasure.

Mar.

Hatefull slaue, thou goest to meete destruction in thy caue.

Hoff.

S'death who stands here?

What's that? Lorriques pale ghost?

I am amaz'd: nay slaue stand of:

Thy weapons sure, the prize is ours.

Mar.

Come forth deere friends, murder is in our powers

Sax.

Yeild thee, base son of shame.

[]

Hoff.

How now whats here? am I betrayd?

By dotage, by the falshood of a face?

Oh wretched foole falne by a womans hand

From high reuenges spheare, the blisse of soules.

Sax.

Cut out the murtherers tongue.

Hoff.

What doe you meane?

Whom haue I murder'd; wherefore bind yee me;

Mar.

They are Iustices to punish thy bare bones,

Looke with thy blood-shed eyes on these bare bones,

And tell me that which dead Lorrique confest

Who ist thou villained that least? who wast?

Hoff.

Why Otho thy sons, and that's my fathers by him.

Mar.

O mercilesse and cruell murtherer

To leaue me childlesse.

Luc.

And mee husbandlesse.

Mat.

Me brotherlesse. oh smooth tongu'd hypocrite

How thou didst draw me to my brothers death.

Sax.

Talke noe more to him, he seekes dignity,

Reason he should receaue his desperate hire,

And weare his crowne made flaming hot with fire:

Bring forth the burning crowne there.

Enter a Lord with the Crowne

Hoff,

Doe old dog, thou helpst to worry my dead Father

And must thou kill me too? 'tis well, 'tis fit,

I that had sworne vnto my fathers soule

To be reueng'd on Austria, Saxony,

Prussia, Luningberg, and all there heires:

Had prosper'd in the downefall of some fiue;

Had onely three to offer to the fiends,

And then must fall in loue; oh wretched eyes

That haue betray'd my heart; bee you accurst;

And as the melting drops run from my brows,

Soe fall they on the strings that guide your heart

Whereby their oylye heat may cracke them first,

I, soe, boyle on thou foolish idle braine,

For giuing entertainement to loues thoughts.

[]

A man resolu'd in blood, bound by a vow

For noe lesse vengeance, then his fathers death,

Yet become amorous of his foes wife!

Oh sin against all conceit! worthy this shame

And all the tortures that the world can name.

Mar.

Call vpon heauen, base wretch, thinke on thy soule.

Hoff.

In charity and prayer

To no purpose without charity.

Sax.

We pardon thee, and pray for thy soules health.

Hoff.

Soe doe not I for yours, nor pardon you;

You kild my father, my most warlike father,

Thus as you deale by me, you did by him;

But I deserue it that haue slackt reuenge

Through fickle beauty, and a womans fraud;

But Hell the hope of all dispayring men,

That wring the poore, and eate the people vp,

As greedy beasts the haruest of their spring:

That Hell, where cowards haue their seats prepar'd,

And barbarous asses, such as haue rob'd souldiers of

Reward, and punish true desert with scorned death.

FINIS.

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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt: TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3015 The Tragedy Of Hoffman. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5F01-9