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Andromana; or, The Merchant's Wife. The Scene Iberia. By J. S. London: Printed for John Bellinger; and are to be sold at his shop, in Clifford's Inn Lane, in Fleet-street. 1660. 4to.

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This play, although it was not published sooner than the year 1660, is supposed to be one of the earliest productions of the author, Thomas Middleton. 'Mr Malone imagines it to have been written about the same time that Pericles and Robert of Huntingdon appeared, each of these plays having a chorus in the same manner as Raynulph in the present performance. The regulation of the metre seems to have been intirely neglected; some liberties have therefore becn necessarily taken to restore the play nearer to the state in which it is presumed the author left it.

GENTLEMEN,

You have the first flight of him, I assure you. This Mayor of Quinborough, whom you have all heard of, and some of you beheld upon the stage, now begins to walk abroad in print; he has been known sufficiently by the reputation of his wit, which is enough, by the way, to distinguish him from ordinary Mayors; but wit, you know, has skulk'd in corners for many years past, and he was thought to have most of it that could best hide himself. Now whether this magistrate fear'd the decimating times, or kept up the state of other Mayors, that are bound not to go out of their liberties during the time of their mayoralty, I know not; 'tis enough for me to put him into your hands, under the title of an honest man, which will appear plainly to you, because you shall find him all along to have a great pique to the rebel Oliver. I am told his drollery yields to none the English drama did ever produce; and though I would not put his modesty to the blush, by speaking too much in his commendation, yet I know you will argee with me, upon your better acquaintance with him, that there is some difference in point of wit, betwixt the Mayor of Quinborough and the Mayor of Huntingdon.

Attempt to ascertain the order of Shakspeare's Plays, p. 283.

2 Huntingdon, the place where Oliver Cromwell was born and resided many years of his life. Some allusion here seems to be lost.

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SCENE I.

Enter 3 RAYNULPH.

ACT I.

Ray. What Raynulph, monk of Chester, can Raise from his polychronicon, That raiseth him, as works do men, To see long-parted light again, That best may please this round fair ring, With sparkling diamonds circled in, I shall produce. If all my powers Can win the grace of two poor hours, Well apaid I go to rest. Ancient stories have been best; Fashions, that are now call'd new, Have been worn by more than you; Elder times have us'd the same,

Though these new ones get the name:
So in story, what's now told
That takes not part with days of old?
Then to approve time's mutual glory,
Join new time's love to old time's story. [Exit.

Shouts within; then enter Vortiger. Vor. Will that wide-throated beast, the multitude,

Never leave bellowing? Courtiers are ill Advised when they first make such monsters. How near was I to a scepter and a crown? Fair power was even upon me, my desires Were casting glory, till this forked rabble, With their infectious acclamations,

Poison'd my fortunes for Constantine's sons.

3 Raynulph.-Raynulph Higden was the compiler of the Polychronicon, as far as the year 1357, thirty-first of Edward III. It was translated into English by Trevisa, and compleated and printed by Caxton in folio, 1482.

Well, though I rise not king, I'll seek the means
To grow as near to one as policy can,
And choak their expectations.-Now, good
lords,

Enter DEVONSHIRE and STAFFORD.

In whose kind loves and wishes I am built
As high as human dignity can aspire,
Are yet those trunks, that have no other souls
But noise and ignorance, something more quiet?
Devon Nor are they like to be, for aught we
gather,

Their wills are up still; nothing can appease them,

Good speeches are but cast away upon them. Vor. Then, since necessity and fate withstand me,

I'll strive to enter at a straighter passage;
Your sudden aid and counsels, good my lords.
Staf. They are ours no longer than they do
you service.

Enter CONSTANTIUS (as a Monk, attended by other Monks), VORTIGER stays him.

Vor. Vessels of sanctity, be pleas'd a while
To give attention to the general peace,
Wherein Heav'n is serv'd too, though not so
purely.

Constantius, eldest son of Constantine,
We here seize on thee for the general good,
And in thy right of birth.

Con. On me! for what, lords?
Vor. The kingdom's government.
Con. Oh Powers of blessedness,

Keep me from growing downwards into earth again :

I hope I am farther on my way than so; set forwards.

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Take heed, the very beam let in to comfort you
May be the fire to burn you. On these knees,
Hard'ned with zealous prayers, I entreat you
Bring not my cares into the world again.
Think with how much unwillingness and anguish
A glorified soul parted from the body
Would to that loathsome gaol again return:
With such great pain a well-subdued affection
Re-enters worldly business.

Vor. Good my lord;

I know you cannot lodge so many virtues,
But patience must be one. As low as earth
We beg the freeness of your own consent,
Which else must be constrain'd; and time it were
Either agreed or forc'd. Speak, good my lord,
For you bind up more sins in this delay
Than thousand prayers can absolve again.
Con. Were't but my death,

You should not kneel so long for't.

Vor. 'Twill be the death of millions if you rise not,

For fear all come too late.
And that betimes too-Lend your help, my lords,

Con. This is a cruelty

That peaceful man did never suffer yet.
To make me die again, that once was dead,
And begin all that ended long before.
Hold, Lupus and Germanus, you are lights
Of holiness and religion; can you offer
The thing that is not lawful? Štand not I
Clear from all temporal charge by my profession?
Ger. Not when a time so violent calls upon

you.

Who is born a prince, is born a general peace,
Not his own only; Heaven will look for him
In others actions, and will require him there,
What is in you religious, must be shown
In saving many more souls than your own.
Con. Did not great Constantine, our noble
father,

Deem me unfit for government and rule,
And therefore prais'd me into this profession?
Which I have held strict, and love it above glory.
Nor is there want of me, yourselves can witness,
Heaven hath provided largely for your peace,
And bless'd you with the lives of my two brothers;
Fix your obedience there, leave me a servant,

All. Long live Constantius, son of Constantine, King of Great Britain!

Con. I do feel a want And extream poverty of joy within; The peace I had is parted 'mongst rude men: To keep them quiet I have lost it all. What can the kingdom gain by my undoing? That riches is not best, though it be mighty, That's purchas'd by the ruin of another; Nor can the peace, so filch'd, ever thrive with them:

4 Prais'd me.-Probably we should read pray'd me; that is, desired me to go into this profession, or pressed me. S. P.

And if't be worthily held sacrilege
To rob a temple, 'tis no less offence
To ravish meditations from the soul
(The consecrated altar in a man.)

And all their hopes will be beguil'd in me;
I know no more the way to temporal rule,
Than he that's born and has his years come to
him

In a rough desart; well may the weight kill ine,
And that's the fairest good I look for from it.

Vor. Not so, great king; here stoops a faithful servant

Would sooner perish under it with cheerfulness,
Than your meek soul should feel oppression
Of ruder cares; such common coarse employ-

ments

Cast upon me your servant, upon Vortiger;
I see you are not made for noise and pains,
Clamours of suitors, injuries, and redresses,
Millions of actions, rising with the sun,
Like laws still ending, and yet never done,
Of power to turn a great man to the state
Of his marble monument, with over-watching.
To be oppress'd is not requir'd of you, my lord,
But only to be king. The broken sleeps
Let me take from you, sir; the toils and troubles,
All that is burthenous in authority,
Please you lay it on me; and what is glorious
Receive it to your own brightness.
Con. Worthy Vortiger,

If't were not sin to grieve another's patience
With what we cannot tolerate ourself,
How happy were I in thee, and thy love!
There's nothing makes man feel his miseries
But knowledge only. Reason, that is plac'd
For man's director, is his chief afflictor:
For though I cannot bear the weight myself,
I cannot have that barrenness of remorse
To see another groan under my burthen.

Vor. I am quite blown up a conscionable way:
There's even a trick of murth'ring in some pity.
The death of all my hopes I see already.
There was no other likelihood; for religion
Was never friend of mine yet.

[Aside.

Con. Holy partners in strictest abstinence,
- Cruel necessity hath forc'd me from you.
We part, I fear, for ever: but in mind
I will be always here; here let me stay.
Devon. My lord, you know the times.
Con. Farewell, blest souls; I fear I shall offend:
He that draws tears from you, takes your best
friend. [Exeunt all but VORTIGER.
Vor. Can the great motion of ambition stand,
Like wheels false wrought by an unskilful hand?
Then Time, stand thou too: let no hopes arrive
At their sweet wishfulness, till mine set forwards.
Would I could stay thy existence as I can
Thy glassy counterfeit in hours of sand,
I'd keep thee turn'd down, till my wishes rose;
Then we'd both rise together.

What several inclinations are in nature?
How much is he disquieted, and wears royalty
Disdainfully upon him! like a curse:

Calls a fair crown the weight of his afflictions!
When here's a soul would sink under the burthen,
Yet well recovered-I will use all means
To vex authority from him, and in all
Study what most may discontent his blood,
Making my mask my zeal to th' public good.
Not possible a richer policy

Can have conception in the thought of man.
Enter two Graziers.

1st Graz. An honourable life inclose your lordship!

Vor. Now, what are you?

2d Graz. Graziers, if't like your lordship. Vor. So it should seem by your inclosures. What's your affair with me?

1st Graz. We are your petitioners, my lord. Vor. For what? Depart; petitioners to me! You have well deserv'd my grace and favour. Have you not a ruler after your own election? Hye you to court,

Get near and close; be loud

And bold enough: you cannot chuse but speed. [Exit.

2d Graz. If that will do't, We have throats wide enough, we'll put them [Exeunt.

to't.

Dumb show. Fortune discovered; in her hand a round ball full of lots: then enter HENGIST and HORSUS, with others: they draw lots; and having opened them, all depart save HENGIST and HORSUS, who kneel and embrace: then enter ROXENA, seeming to take leave of HENGIST in great passion, but more especially and warily of HORSUS, her lover; she departs one way, HENGIST and HORSUs another.

Enter RAYNULPH.

Ray. When Germany was overgrown With sons of peace, too thickly sown, Several guides were chosen then By destin'd lots, to lead out men; And they whoin fortune here withstands, Must prove their fates in other lands. On these two captains fell the lot; But that which must not be forgot, Was Roxena's cunning grief; Who from her father, like a thief, Hid her best and truest tears, Which her lustful lover wears, In many a stol'n and wary kiss Unseen of father: maids do this, Yet highly scorn to be call'd strumpets too; But what they lack of't I'll be judg'd by you.

[Exit.

Enter VORTIGER, Felt-maker, Button-maker, and Grazier, petitioners.

Vor. This way his majesty comes.
All. Thank your good lordship.

Vor. When you hear yon door open

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