The Fatal Jealousie (1673) Part 22

_Jasp._ Stand off, by h.e.l.l, He that comes near me finds his Death with this!

Think you I'm grown so tame to dye by Law; No, no, I'le not endure a formal Tryal, To be upbraided with those things I think Deserve a Trophy rather then Contempt, Which since I know will follow, here's my Bail, This will deliver any Man from Jayl.

Let Cowards dye by hanging; such as I As we live bravely, thus dare bravely dye.

[Stabs himself.

_Capt._ He has done well; no Excutioner Could have been found so bad as his own hand, And h.e.l.l will give him what he wants on Earth: And yet, my Lord, it troubles me for you, Since my Place binds me to secure your Person, To answer Law for all your Rage has done.

_Anto._ Shame almost stops my mouth; yet, Captain, know My wound won't give me time for that misfortune; Stay but a little, let me fix my Eyes On what lies here, for that alone would give me A sudden Death, had I no other hurt.

I dare not hope for Heav'n, having done So black a Murder on such Innocence, And yet I do believe her Charity As it did dying, still doth beg that Pardon Might from above be granted to my soul, Which if I miss, as I have cause to fear, Then sure I shall be turn'd into a Devil For ever to Torment his Cursed soul That led me to these mischiefs.

'Twould be some ease, if Heaven but granted that, But I begin to faint! Oh, Blessed Soul Dart forth one Beam of Light, to guide the way, Or I shall always wander in the dark.

Night seizes me already: yet from hence In spight of death my soul shall take her flight, Go where I will, I thus set out a right.

[Dyes.

_Serv._ He's dead--

_Capt._ By dying so, at least he's thus far happy, That he Escapes the Punishments of Tryal, And the Exemplar death must have attended Which to a man so Jealous of his Fame As he was, would have been a h.e.l.l on Earth.

Your Duty to your Lord will keep you safe, Yet you must to the Vice-Roy go with me To be a Witness there of what hath happn'd, The story else will seem Incredible.

_Serv._ I am ready, Sir, for all you shall Command.

_Capt._ Oh Jealousie, thou sickness of great souls, To what a Rage didst thou transport this Lord?

For had his Wife been false it was not good By Murd'ring her to drown himself in Blood;

_For l.u.s.t may be Excus'd since flesh is frail, But Murder on the Soul does guilt Entail._

The Curtain Falls.

EPILOGUE

By Mr. _Harris_.

_A Tragedy, and not Heroick Verse, The Comick part fit only for a Fa.r.s.e; No Atheism, nor any man we know Abus'd, no repartee, nor splendid show; But very little Bawdy, and less wit, The Devil's in't, crys one, is this Play hit.

Faith--may be not, and may be too it will, For Chance sometimes exceeds all rules of skill.

As he who Rageing did his Pencil throw, And Painted that by chance, he could not draw For we have seen, and lately too, a Play Cry'd down by those that cannot keep away And when they come spight of themselves they stay.

And to our sorrow we have others known, That for their wit have Wit it self out-done, And yet you wits, that praise 'em seldom come.

So the Goodman, oft-times for cause unknown, Leaves well-drest Beauteous Wife for Homely Joan.

And you that Misses keep too, I'm afraid Do sometimes make e'm Jealous of the Maid; So if this Play not drest by rules of Art Should with some Trick of Nature catch the heart; We'd give you leave to rail, and never fear, Because we're sure you'd come to do it here.

Gallants you see what e're you say or do, Plays will be writ, and we shall Act 'em too.

Some will for pleasure, some for profit write, Some for Applause, and some will do't in spight, Such bit by Critticks, strait run mad and bite.

This does our bu'sness; but we'd have you know, We wish we'd none but true brisk wit to show, We silence wish that Men might hear a Play, And wish that Vizard Mask would keep away: But we as well might wish we were those Kings We sometimes Act, as hope to see these things.

Then since to rail o'th' Stage and in the Pit, Must in this sickly Age be counted Wit; And that th' Infection cannot be subdu'd, We Actors for our own sakes do conclude, The Itch to write and rail will ne're be cur'd, And therefore faith let 'em be both Endur'd._

_FINIS._