[THE] FATAL JEALOUSY. A TRAGEDY [PUBLISHED 1673]. AUTHOR UNKNOWN [BY NEVIL PAYNE]

No Truth Absolute: after seeing a Masque of Gipseys.

1st Spectator. By this we see that all the world's a cheat, Whose truths and falsehoods lie so intermixt,

And are so like each other, that 'tis hard

To find the difference. Who would not think these people
A real pack of such as we call Gipseys?

2nd Spect. Things perfectly alike are but the same;
And these were Gipseys, if we did not know
How to consider them the contrary:

So in terrestrial things there is not one

But takes its form and nature from our fancy,

Not its own being, and is but what we think it.1 1st Spect. But Truth is still itself?

2nd Spect. No, not at all, as Truth appears to us;

For oftentimes

That is a truth to me, that's false to you;

So 'twould not be, if it was truly true.2

How clouded Man

Doubts first, and from one doubt doth soon proceed
A thousand more, in solving of the first!
Like 'nighted travellers we lose our way,
Then every ignis fatuus makes us stray,

By the false lights of reason led about,

Till we arrive where we at first set out:

Nor shall we e'er truth's perfect highway see,

Till dawns the day-break of eternity.

O Apprehension !

Apprehension.

So terrible the consequence appears,

It makes my brain turn round, and night seem darker.

The moon begins to drown herself in clouds,

Leaving a duskish horror everywhere.

My sickly fancy makes the garden seem

Like those benighted groves in Pluto's kingdoms.

[Act ii.3].

[Act iii.]

[Act iv.]

["What we do think it."]

2[The Scene continues.]

[Ed. of 1673.]

Injured Husband.

Wife (dying). Oh, oh, I fain would live a little longer,
If but to ask forgiveness of Gerardo!

My soul will scarce reach heav'n without his pardon.
Gerardo (entering). Who's that would go to heav'n,
Take it, whate'er thou art; and may'st thou be
Happy in death, whate'er thou didst design.

Gerardo; his wife murdered.

Ger. It is in vain to look 'em,1 if they hide;

The garden's large; besides, perhaps they are gone.

We'll to the body.

Serv. You are by it now, my Lord.

Ger. This accident amazes me so much,

Doubt is the effect of fear or jealousy,

Two passions which to reason give the lie;
For fear torments, and never doth assist;

And jealousy is love lost in a mist.

Both hood-wink truth, and go to blind-man's-buff,
Cry here, then there, seem to direct enough,
But all the while shift place; making the mind,
As it goes out of breath, despair to find d;
And, if at last something it stumbles on,
Perhaps it calls it false, and then 'tis gone.
If true, what's gain'd? only just time to see
A breachless play, a game at liberty;
That has no other end than this, that men
Run to be tired, just to set down again.

Owl.

-hark how the owl

Summons their souls to take a flight with her,
Where they shall be eternally benighted.—3

[Act iv.]

[Act iv.]

[Act ii.]

[Act iv.]

THE TRAITOR. A TRAGEDY [LICENSED 1631: PUBLISHED 1635]. BY J. SHIRLEY. BY SOME SAID [PROBABLY ERRONEOUSLY] TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ONE RIVERS, A JESUIT, 1635

Sciarrah, whose life is forfeited, has offer of pardon, condition-
ally, that he bring his sister Amidea to consent to the
Prince's unlawful suit. He jestingly tries her affection.
Sci. if thou couldst redeem me

With anything but death, I think I should
Consent to live.1

Amid. Nothing can be too precious

To save a brother, such a loving brother

As

you have been.

Sci. Death's a devouring gamester,

And sweeps up all ;-what think'st thou of an eye?

Could'st thou spare one, and think the blemish recompenced

To see me safe with the other? or a hand

This white hand, that has so often

With admiration trembled on the lute,

Till we have pray'd thee leave the strings awhile,
And laid our ears close to thy ivory fingers,
Suspecting all the harmony proceeded
From their own motions without the need
Of any dull or passive instrument.—
No, Amidea; thou shalt not bear one scar,
To buy my life; the sickle shall not touch
A flower, that grows so fair upon his stalk: 2
I would live, and owe my life to thee,

So 'twere not bought too dear.

Amid. Do you believe, I should not find

The way to heav'n, were both mine eyes thy ransom?
I shall climb up those high and rugged cliffs
Without a hand.

[Act v., Sc. 1.3]

My transcript breaks off here. Perhaps what follows was of less value; or perhaps I broke off, as I own I have sometimes done, to leave in my readers a relish, and an inclination to explore for themselves the genuine fountains of these old dramatic delicacies.

["But I'd not have thee venture

All at one chance."]

[Two lines and a half omitted.]

3 [Shirley's Works, vol. ii. For other extracts from Shirley see note on p. 393.]

THE HUNTINGDON DIVERTISEMENT. AN INTERLUDE, FOR THE GENERAL ENTERTAINMENT AT THE COUNTY FEAST, HELD AT MERCHANT TAYLORS' HALL, JUNE 20TH, 1678.1 BY W. M. [AUTHOR UNKNOWN]

Humour of a retired Knight.

Sir JEOFFRY DOE-RIGHT. Master GENEROUS GOODMAN. Gen. Sir Jeoffry, good morrow.

Sir J. The same to you, Sir.

Gen. Your early zeal condemns the rising sun

Of too much sloth; as if you did intend

To catch the Muses napping.

Sir J. Did you know

The pleasures of an early contemplation,
You'd never let Aurora blush to find

You drowsy on your bed; but rouse, and spend
Some short ejaculations,-how the night
Disbands her sparkling troops at the approach
Of the ensuing day, when th' grey-eyed sky
Ushers the golden signals of the morn;
Whilst the magnanimous cock with joy proclaims
The sun's illustrious cavalcade. Your thoughts
Would ruminate on all the works of Heaven,
And th' various dispensations of its power.
Our predecessors better did improve
The precious minutes of the morn than we
Their lazy successors. Their practice taught
And left us th' good Proverbial, that "To rise
Early makes all men healthy, wealthy, wise."

Gen. Your practice, Sir, merits our imitation;
Where the least particle of night and day's
Improv'd to th' best advantage, whilst your soul
(Unclogg'd from th' dross of melancholic cares)
Makes every place a paradise.

Sir J. "Tis true,

I bless my lucky stars, whose kind aspects
Have fix'd me in this solitude. My youth
Past thro' the tropics of each fortune, I

Was made her perfect tennis-ball; her smiles
Now made me rich and honour'd; then her frowns

1 1 [Not divided into Acts. See ed. of 1678, p. 2.]

Dash'd all my joys, and blasted all my hopes;
Till, wearied by such interchange of weather,
In court and city, I at length confined
All my ambition to the Golden Mean,
The Equinoctial of my fate; to amend
The errors of my life by a good end.

DEDICATIONS

TO FLETCHER'S

FAITHFUL

SHEP

HERDESS, WITHOUT DATE; PRESUMED TO BE
THE FIRST EDITION [See page 301]1

I.

To that noble and true lover of learning, Sir Walton Aston.

Sir, I must ask your patience, and be true.

This Play was never liked, except by few

That brought their judgments with them; for of late
First the infection, then the common prate

Of common people, have such customs got
Either to silence Plays, or like them not:
Under the last of which this Interlude

Had fal'n, for ever press'd down by the rude
That, like a torrent which the moist South feeds,
Drowns both before him the ripe corn and weeds;
Had not the saving sense of better men
Redeem'd it from corruption. Dear Sir, then
Among the better souls be you the best,
In whom as in a center I take rest,
And proper being; from whose equal eye
And judgment nothing grows but purity.
Nor do I flatter; for, by all those dead
Great in the Muses, by Apollo's head,
He that adds any thing to you, 'tis done
Like his that lights a candle to the sun.
Then be as you were ever, yourself still
Moved by your judgment, not by love or will.
And when I sing again (as who can tell
My next devotion to that holy Well?)
Your goodness to the Muses shall be all
Able to make a work Heroical.

[See Mermaid Series, vol. ii., pp. 318-21. See also p. 533.]

The Plague: in which times, the acting of Plays appears to have been discountenanced.