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Cast. Sir, this your couch

Seems to invite some small repose :
0, I beseech you taste it. I will beg
A little leave to sing.

[She sings. BERINTHIA enters softly. Cast. Sweet sleep charm his sad senses ;

And gentle thoughts, let fall
Your flowing numbers here; and round about
Hover celestial angels with your wings,
That none offend his quiet. Sleep begins
To cast his nets o'er me too; I'll obey,
And dream on him that dreams not what I am. She

lies doron by him. Ber. Nature doth wrestle with


but revenge
Doth arm my love against it; justice is
Above all tie of blood. Sebastiano,
Thou art the first shall tell Antonio's ghost,

How much I loved him. [She stabs him upon his couch. Seb. (waking.) O, stay thy hand, Berinthia! no:

Ìhou hast done't. I wish thee Heaven's forgiveness. I
Tarry to hear thy reasons ;


doors [cannot
My life runs out, and yet Berinthia
Doth in her name give me more wounds than these.
Antonio, 0, Antonio! we shall now
Be friends again.


THE POLITICIAN: A TRAGEDY, BY JAMES SHIRLEY. MARPISA widow of Count ALTOMARUS is advanced to be Queen to the

KING OF NORWAY, by the practices of her paramour GOTHARUS. She has by her first husband a young son HARALDUS; to secure whose succession to the crown by the aid of GOTHARUS (in prejudice of the king's son, the lawful heir,) she tells GOTHARUS that the child is his. Hebelieves her, and tells HARALDUS ; who taking to heart his mother's dishonour, and his own stain of bastardy, falls into a mortal sickness.

QUEEN. HARALDUS. Queen. How is it with


child? Har. I know


love me:
Yet I must tell you truth, I cannot live.
And let this comfort you, death will not come
Unwelcome to your son.

I do not die
Against my will; and having my desires,
You have less cause to mourn.

Queen. What is it hath made

The thought of life unpleasant ? which does court
Thy dwelling here, with all delights that nature
And art can study for thee, rich in all things
Thy wish can be ambitious of, yet all
These treasures nothing to thy mother's love,
Which to enjoy thee would defer awhile

Her thought of going to heaven.
Har. O, take heed, mother.

Heaven hath a spacious ear, and power to punish
Your too much love with my eternal absence.

I beg your prayers and blessing.
Queen. Thou art dejected.

Have but a will, and live.
Har. 'Tis in vain, mother.
Queen. Sink with a fever into earth!


thou shalt not die. Har. I have a wound within,

You do not see, more killing than all fevers.
Queen. A wound ? where? who has murder'd thee?
Har. Gotharus-
Queen. Ha! Furies persecute him!
Har. O, pray for him:

It is my duty, though he gave me death.
He is


father. Queen. How, thy father? Har. He told me so, and with that breath destroy'd me.

I felt it strike upon my spirits, mother:

Would I had ne'er been born!
Queen. Believe him not.
Har. O, do not add another sin to what

Is done already ; death is charitable,

To quit me from the scorn of all the world. Queen. By all my hopes, Gotharus has abused thee.

Thou art the lawful burthen of my womb;

Thy father Altomarus.
Har. Ha!
Queen. Before whose spirit (long since taken up

To meet with saints and troops angelical)

I dare again repeat, thou art his son. Har. Ten thousand blessings now reward my


Speak it again, and I may live: a stream
Of pious joy runs through me; to my soul
You have struck a harmony, next that in heaven.

without a blush call me your child,
And son of Altomarus ? all that's holy
Dwell in your blood for ever: speak it once,

But once again.
Queen. Were it my latest breath, ,

Thou art his and mine.
Har. Enough; my tears do flow

To give you thanks for it: I would you could resolve me
But one truth more; why did my lord Gotharus

Call me the issue of his blood ?
Queen. Alas,

He thinks thou art.
Har. What are those words ? I am

Undone again.
Queen. Ha!
Har. 'Tis too late

To call them back. He thinks I am his son.
Queen. I have confess'd too much, and tremble with

The imagination. Forgive me, child,
And Heaven, if there be mercy to a crime
So black, as I must now, to quit thy fears,
Say I have been guilty of: we have been sinful,
And I was not unwilling to oblige
His active brain for thy advancement, by
Abusing his belief thou wert his own.
But thou hast no such stain; thy birth is innocent,
Or may I perish ever : ’tis a strange
Confession to a child, but it may drop
A balsam to thy wound. Live, my Haraldus,
If not, for this, to see my penitence,

And with what tears I'll wash away my sin.
Har. I am no bastard then ?
Queen. Thou art not.
Har. But

I am not found, while you are lost. No time

Can restore you. My spirits faint.
Queen. Will nothing comfort thee?
Har. Give me your blessing; and, within my heart,


pray you may have many. My soul flies Above this vain world: good mother, close mine eyes. Queen. Never died so much sweetness in his years'.

THE BROTHERS: A COMEDY, BY JAMES SHIRLEY. Don RAMIRES leaves his son FERNANDO with a heavy curse, and a threat

of disinheriting, if he do not renounce FELISARDA, the poor niece of DON CARLOS, whom he courts, when by his father's command he should address JACINTA the daughter and rich heiress of CARLOS, his younger brother FRANCISCO's Mistress.

Fer. Why does not all the stock of thunder fall ?

Or the fierce winds, from their close caves let loose,

Now shake me into atoms?
Fran. Fie, noble brother, what can so deject

Your masculine thoughts ? is this done like Fernando,
Whose resolute soul so late was arm’d to fight
With all the miseries of man, and triumph
With patience of a martyr ? I observed

My father late come from you.
Fer. Yes, Francisco:

He hath left his curse upon me.
Fran. How ?
Fer. His curse: dost comprehend what that word carries,

Shot from a father's angry breath ? unless
I tear poor Felisarda from my heart,
He hath pronounced me heir to all his curses.
Does this fright thee, Francisco ? Thou hast cause
To dance in soul for this : 'tis only I
Must lose, and mourn; thou shalt have all;
Degraded from my birth, while he affects
Thy forward youth, and only calls thee son,
Son of his active spirit, and applauds
Thy progress with Jacinta, in whose smiles
Thou mayst see all thy wishes waiting for thee;
Whilst poor Fernando for her sake must stand
An excommunicate from every blessing,

A thing that dare not give myself a name, 1 Mamillus in the Winter's Tale in this manner droops and dies from a conceit of his mother's dishonour.

I am


But flung into the world's necessities,
Until in time, with wonder of my wants,
I turn a ragged statue, on whose forehead

Each clown may carve his motto. DON RAMIRES is seized with a mortal sickness, but forbids FERNANDO to approach his chamber till he shall send for him, on pain of his dying

Fer. This turn is fatal, and affrights me; but

Heaven has more charity than to let him die
With such a hard heart; 'twere a sin, next his
Want of compassion, to suspect he can
Take his eternal flight, and leave Fernando
This desperate legacy; he will change the curse
Into some little prayer, I hope; and then-

Enter Servant and Physician.
Ser. Make haste, I beseech you, doctor.
Phy. Noble Fernando.
Fer. As

would have men think


art is meant Not to abuse mankind, employ it all

To cure my poor sick father.
Phy. Fear it not, sir. [Exeunt Physician and Servant.
Fer. But there is more than your thin skill required,

To state a health ; your recipes, perplex'd
With tough names, are but mockeries and noise,
Without some dew from heaven, to mix and make them
Thrive in the application : what now?

Enter Servant.
Ser. O sir, I am sent for the confessor;

The doctor fears him much; your
You must have patience, and not enter, sir;
Your father is a-going, good old man,
And, having made him heir, he's loath your presence
Should interrupt his journey.

[Exit. Fer. Francisco

may be honest, yet methinks
It would become his love to interpose
For my access, at such a needful hour,
And mediate for my blessing; not assist
Unkindly thus my banishment. I'll not
Be lost so tamely. Shall my father die,
And not Fernando take his leave ? I dare not.
“ If thou dost hope I should take off this curse,

brother says

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