Thou shew'st thee now unfaithful, to accept
Of me: I kill'd thy master. 'Twas a friend
He could commit thee to; I only was,

Of all the stock of men, his enemy,

His cruel'st enemy.

Cast. Indeed I am sure it was; he spoke all truth;
And, had he liv'd to have made his will, I know
He had bequeath'd me as a legacy,

To be your boy; alas, I am willing, sir,
To obey him in it: had he laid on me
Command, to have mingled with his sacred dust
My unprofitable blood, it should have been
A most glad sacrifice, and 't had been honour
To have done him such a duty: sir, I know
You did not kill him with a heart of malice,
But in contention with your very soul
To part with him.

Seb. All is as true

As oracle by heaven; dost thou believe so?
Cast. Indeed I do.

Seb. Yet be not rash;

'Tis no advantage to belong to me:

I have no power nor greatness in the court
To raise thee to a fortune worthy of

So much observance, as I shall expect
When thou art mine.

Cast. All the ambition of my thoughts shall be
To do my duty, sir.

Seb. Besides, I shall afflict thy tenderness
With solitude and passion: for I am

Only in love with sorrow, never merry,
Wear out the day in telling of sad tales,
Delight in sighs and tears; sometimes I walk
To a wood or river, purposely to challenge
The boldest echo to send back my groans

In th' height I break them. Come, I shall undo thee.
Cast. Sir, I shall be most happy to bear part
any of your sorrows; I ne'er had

In

So hard a heart but I could shed a tear

To bear my master company.

Seb. I will not leave thee, if thou'll dwell with me, For wealth of Indies: be my loved boy

Come in with me; thus I'll begin to do

Some

recompence for dead Antonio.

Berinthia kills her brother Sebastiano sleeping.

Cast. Sir, if the opportunity I use
To comfort you be held a fault, and that
I keep not distance of a servant, lay it
Upon my love; indeed, if it be an error,
It springs out of my duty.

Seb. Prithee boy, he patient.

The more I strive to throw off the remembrance
Of dead Antonio, love still rubs the wounds
To make them bleed afresh.

Cast. Alas, they are past;

Bind up your own for honour's sake, and shew
Love to yourself; pray do not lose your reason,
To make your grief so fruitless. I have procur'd
Some music, sir, to quiet those sad thoughts
That make such war within you.

Seb. Alas, good boy, it will but add more weight
Of dullness on me! I am stung with worse
Than the tarantula, to be cur'd with music;
It has th' exactest unity, but it cannot

Accord my thoughts.

Cast. Sir, this your

couch

Seems to invite some small repose:

Oh, I beseech you taste it. I will beg

A little leave to sing.

Berinthia enters softly.

Cast. Sweet sleep charm his sad senses:

And gentle thoughts let fall

(She sings.)

Your flowing numbers here; and round about
Hover celestial angels with your wings,

That

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 down by him.) Ber. Nature doth wrestle with me, 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 lov'd him.

(She stabs him upon his couch.)

Seb. (waking.) Oh, stay thy hand, Berinthia! no: Thou'st done't. I wish thee heaven's forgiveness. I can

not

Tarry to hear thy reasons; at many

My life runs out, and yet Berinthia

doors

Doth in her name give me more wounds than these.
Antonio, Oh, Antonio: we shall now

Be friends again.

(Dies.)

THE

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. He believes her, and tells Haraldus; who taking to heart his mother's dishonour, and his own stain of bastardy, falls into a mortal sickness.

Queen. How is it with my child?
Har. I know you 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't 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 a while
Her thought of going to heaven.

Har. Oh take heed, mother.

Heaven has a spacious ear, and power to punish
Your too much love with my eternal absence.
I beg your prayers and blessing.

Queen.

Queen. Thou art dejected. Have but a will, and live. Har. 'Tis in vain, mother.

Queen. Sink with a fever into earth!

Look up, 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 murther'd thee?

Har. Gotharus

Queen. Ha! furies persecute him.

Har. Oh pray for him:

It is my duty, though he gave me death.

He is my 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. Oh 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 mother! Speak it again, and I may live: a stream

Of pious joy runs through me; to my soul

You've struck a harmony, next that in heaven.
Can you 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'rt his and mine.

Har. Enough, my tears do flow

To