_ More; yet more; a
thousand
wounds!
Dryden - Complete
Or comest thou in the grave to reap new pleasures?
_Joc. _ Talk on, till thou mak'st mad my rolling brain;
Groan still more death; and may those dismal sources
Still bubble on, and pour forth blood and tears.
Methinks, at such a meeting, heaven stands still;
The sea, nor ebbs, nor flows; this mole-hill earth
Is heaved no more; the busy emmets cease:
Yet hear me on--
_OEdip. _ Speak, then, and blast my soul.
_Joc. _ O, my loved lord, though I resolve a ruin,
To match my crimes; by all my miseries,
'Tis horror, worse than thousand thousand deaths,
To send me hence without a kind farewell.
_OEdip. _ Gods, how she shakes me! --stay thee, O Jocasta!
Speak something ere thou goest for ever from me!
_Joc. _ 'Tis woman's weakness, that I would be pitied;
Pardon me then, O greatest, though most wretched.
Of all thy kind! My soul is on the brink,
And sees the boiling furnace just beneath:
Do not thou push me off, and I will go,
With such a willingness, as if that heaven
With all its glory glowed for my reception.
_OEdip. _ O, in my heart I feel the pangs of nature;
It works with kindness o'er: give, give me way!
I feel a melting here, a tenderness,
Too mighty for the anger of the gods!
Direct me to thy knees: yet, oh forbear,
Lest the dead embers should revive.
Stand off, and at just distance
Let me groan my horrors! --here
On the earth, here blow my utmost gale;
Here sob my sorrows, till I burst with sighing;
Here gasp and languish out my wounded soul.
_Joc. _ In spite of all those crimes the cruel gods
Can charge me with, I know my innocence;
Know yours. 'Tis fate alone that makes us wretched,
For you are still my husband.
_OEdip. _ Swear I am,
And I'll believe thee; steal into thy arms,
Renew endearments, think them no pollutions,
But chaste as spirits' joys. Gently I'll come,
Thus weeping blind, like dewy night, upon thee,
And fold thee softly in my arms to slumber.
[_The Ghost of_ LAIUS _ascends by
degrees, pointing at_ JOCASTA.
_Joc. _ Begone, my lord! Alas, what are we doing?
Fly from my arms! Whirlwinds, seas, continents,
And worlds, divide us! O, thrice happy thou,
Who hast no use of eyes; for here's a sight
Would turn the melting face of mercy's self
To a wild fury.
_OEdip. _ Ha! what seest thou there?
_Joc. _ The spirit of my husband! O, the gods!
How wan he looks!
_OEdip. _ Thou ravest; thy husband's here.
_Joc. _ There, there he mounts
In circling fire among the blushing clouds!
And see, he waves Jocasta from the world!
_Ghost. _ Jocasta, OEdipus. [_Vanish with thunder. _
_OEdip. _ What wouldst thou have?
Thou knowest I cannot come to thee, detained
In darkness here, and kept from means of death.
I've heard a spirit's force is wonderful;
At whose approach, when starting from his dungeon,
The earth does shake, and the old ocean groans,
Rocks are removed, and towers are thundered down;
And walls of brass, and gates of adamant
Are passable as air, and fleet like winds.
_Joc. _ Was that a raven's croak, or my son's voice?
No matter which; I'll to the grave and hide me.
Earth open, or I'll tear thy bowels up.
Hark! he goes on, and blabs the deed of incest.
_OEdip. _ Strike then, imperial ghost; dash all at once
This house of clay into a thousand pieces;
That my poor lingering soul may take her flight
To your immortal dwellings.
_Joc. _ Haste thee, then,
Or I shall be before thee. See,--thou canst not see!
Then I will tell thee that my wings are on.
I'll mount, I'll fly, and with a port divine
Glide all along the gaudy milky soil,
To find my Laius out; ask every god
In his bright palace, if he knows my Laius,
My murdered Laius!
_OEdip. _ Ha! how's this, Jocasta?
Nay, if thy brain be sick, then thou art happy.
_Joc. _ Ha! will you not? shall I not find him out?
Will you not show him? are my tears despised?
Why, then I'll thunder, yes, I will be mad,
And fright you with my cries. Yes, cruel gods,
Though vultures, eagles, dragons tear my heart,
I'll snatch celestial flames, fire all your dwellings,
Melt down your golden roofs, and make your doors
Of crystal fly from off their diamond hinges;
Drive you all out from your ambrosial hives,
To swarm like bees about the field of heaven.
This will I do, unless you show me Laius,
My dear, my murdered lord. O Laius! Laius! Laius! [_Exit_ JOCASTA.
_OEdip. _ Excellent grief! why, this is as it should be!
No mourning can be suitable to crimes
Like ours, but what death makes, or madness forms.
I could have wished, methought, for sight again,
To mark the gallantry of her distraction;
Her blazing eyes darting the wandering stars,
To have seen her mouth the heavens, and mate the gods,
While with her thundering voice she menaced high,
And every accent twanged with smarting sorrow;
But what's all this to thee? thou, coward, yet
Art living, canst not, wilt not find the road
To the great palace of magnificent Death;
Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors,
Which, day and night, are still unbarred for all.
[_Clashing of Swords. Drums and Trumpets without. _
Hark! 'tis the noise of clashing swords! the sound
Comes near;--O, that a battle would come o'er me!
If I but grasp a sword, or wrest a dagger,
I'll make a ruin with the first that falls.
_Enter_ HÆMON, _with Guards. _
_Hæm. _ Seize him, and bear him to the western tower. --
Pardon me, sacred sir; I am informed
That Creon has designs upon your life:
Forgive me, then, if, to preserve you from him,
I order your confinement.
_OEdip. _ Slaves, unhand me! --
I think thou hast a sword;--'twas the wrong side.
Yet, cruel Hæmon, think not I will live;
He, that could tear his eyes out, sure can find
Some desperate way to stifle this cursed breath:
Or if I starve! --but that's a lingering fate;
Or if I leave my brains upon the wall! --
The airy soul can easily o'er-shoot
Those bounds, with which thou striv'st to pale her in.
Yes, I will perish in despite of thee;
And, by the rage that stirs me, if I meet thee
In the other world, I'll curse thee for this usage. [_Exit. _
_Hæm. _ Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,
Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,
These feuds within; while I without extinguish,
Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;
That brand which sets our city in a flame.
_Tir. _ Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period
To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,
Shall straight be done. --Lead, Manto, to the tower.
[_Exeunt_ TIRESIAS _and_ MANTO.
_Hæm. _ Follow me all, and help to part this fray, [_Trumpets again. _
Or fall together in the bloody broil. [_Exeunt. _
_Enter_ CREON _with_ EURYDICE; PYRACMON, _and his party, giving
Ground to_ ADRASTUS.
_Cre. _ Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!
Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.
_Adr. _ What would'st thou, hell-hound?
_Cre. _ See this brandished dagger;
Forego the advantage which thy arms have won.
Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart
Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest,
I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast,
This instrument of my revenge.
_Adr. _ Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!
_Cre. _ Give order, then, that on this instant, now,
This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.
_Adr. _ Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;
Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.
_Eur. _ Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!
Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!
Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,
After so bravely having fought his cause,
To perish by the hand of this base villain?
Why rather rush you not at once together
All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,
Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;
Nor let my death affright you.
_Cre. _ Die first thyself, then.
_Adr. _ O, I charge thee hold! --
Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend
That disobeys. --See, art thou now appeased? [_Exeunt Attendants. _
Or is there aught else yet remains to do,
That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood
With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!
_Cre. _ Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.
_Eur. _ Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save
Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,
Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;
With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.
For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;
His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword;
Lest I be ravished after thou art slain.
_Adr. _ Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do?
_Cre. _ Do what thou wilt, when she is dead; my soldiers
With numbers will o'erpower thee. Is't thy wish
Eurydice should fall before thee?
_Adr. _ Traitor, no;
Better that thou, and I, and all mankind,
Should be no more.
_Cre. _ Then cast thy sword away,
And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike.
_Adr. _ Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause.
My father, when he blest me, gave me this:
My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge;
If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee. --
Yet love now charms it from me; which in all
The hazards of my life I never lost.
'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust;
Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal. [_Gives it. _
_Cre. _ Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall:
Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance.
Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee. --
Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch
The king; hang Hæmon up, for he is loyal,
And will oppose me. --Come, sir, are you ready?
_Adr. _ Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare.
_Eur. _ Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.
_Adr. _ Off, madam, or we perish both; behold
I'm not unarmed, my poniard's in my hand;
Therefore, away.
_Eur. _ I'll guard your life with mine.
_Cre. _ Die both, then; there is now no time for dallying.
[_Kills_ EURYDICE.
_Eur. _ Ah, prince, farewell! farewell, my dear Adrastus! [_Dies. _
_Adr. _ Unheard-of monster! eldest-born of hell!
Down, to thy primitive flame. [_Stabs_ CREON.
_Cre. _ Help, soldiers, help;
Revenge me.
_Adr.
_ More; yet more; a thousand wounds!
I'll stamp thee still, thus, to the gaping furies.
[ADRASTUS _falls, killed by the soldiers. _
_Enter_ HÆMON, _Guards, with_ ALCANDER _and_ PYRACMON _bound; the
Assassins are driven off. _
O Hæmon, I am slain; nor need I name
The inhuman author of all villainies;
There he lies gasping.
_Cre. _ If I must plunge in flames,
Burn first my arm; base instrument, unfit
To act the dictates of my daring mind;
Burn, burn for ever, O weak substitute
Of that, the god, ambition. [_Dies. _
_Adr. _ She's gone;--O deadly marksman, in the heart!
Yet in the pangs of death she grasps my hand;
Her lips too tremble, as if she would speak
Her last farewell. --O, OEdipus, thy fall
Is great; and nobly now thou goest attended!
They talk of heroes, and celestial beauties,
And wondrous pleasures in the other world;
Let me but find her there, I ask no more. [_Dies. _
_Enter a Captain to_ HÆMON; _with_ TERESIAS _and_ MANTO.
_Cap. _ O, sir, the queen Jocasta, swift and wild,
As a robbed tygress bounding o'er the woods,
Has acted murders that amaze mankind;
In twisted gold I saw her daughters hang
On the bed-royal, and her little sons
Stabbed through the breasts upon the bloody pillows.
_Hæm. _ Relentless heavens! is then the fate of Laius
Never to be atoned? How sacred ought
Kings' lives be held, when but the death of one
Demands an empire's blood for expiation!
But see! the furious mad Jocasta's here.
_Scene draws, and discovers_ JOCASTA _held by her women and stabbed
in many places of her Bosom, her Hair dishevelled, her Children
slain upon the Bed. _
Was ever yet a sight of so much horror
And pity brought to view!
_Joc. _ Ah, cruel women!
Will you not let me take my last farewell
Of those dear babes? O let me run, and seal
My melting soul upon their bubbling wounds!
I'll print upon their coral mouths such kisses,
As shall recal their wandering spirits home.
Let me go, let me go, or I will tear you piece-meal.
Help, Hæmon, help;
Help, OEdipus; help, Gods; Jocasta dies.
_Enter_ OEDIPUS _above. _
_OEdip. _ I've found a window, and I thank the gods
'Tis quite unbarred; sure, by the distant noise,
The height will fit my fatal purpose well.
_Joc. _ What hoa, my OEdipus! see where he stands!
His groping ghost is lodged upon a tower,
Nor can it find the road. Mount, mount, my soul;
I'll wrap thy shivering spirit in lambent flames; and so we'll sail. --
But see! we're landed on the happy coast;
And all the golden strands are covered o'er
With glorious gods, that come to try our cause.
Jove, Jove, whose majesty now sinks me down,
He, who himself burns in unlawful fires,
Shall judge, and shall acquit us. O, 'tis done;
'Tis fixt by fate, upon record divine;
And OEdipus shall now be ever mine. [_Dies. _
_OEdip. _ Speak, Hæmon; what has fate been doing there?
What dreadful deed has mad Jocasta done?
_Hæm. _ The queen herself, and all your wretched offspring,
Are by her fury slain.
_OEdip. _ By all my woes,
She has outdone me in revenge and murder,
And I should envy her the sad applause:
But oh, my children! oh, what have they done?
This was not like the mercy of the heavens,
To set her madness on such cruelty:
This stirs me more than all my sufferings,
And with my last breath I must call you tyrants.
_Hæm. _ What mean you, sir?
_OEdip. _ Jocasta! lo, I come.
O Laius, Labdacus, and all you spirits
Of the Cadmean race, prepare to meet me,
All weeping ranged along the gloomy shore;
Extend your arms to embrace me, for I come.
May all the gods, too, from their battlements,
Behold and wonder at a mortal's daring;
And, when I knock the goal of dreadful death,
Shout and applaud me with a clap of thunder.
Once more, thus winged by horrid fate, I come,
Swift as a falling meteor; lo, I fly,
And thus go downwards to the darker sky.
[_Thunder. He flings himself from the Window:
The Thebans gather about his Body. _
_Hæm. _ O prophet, OEdipus is now no more!
O cursed effect of the most deep despair!
_Tir. _ Cease your complaints, and bear his body hence;
The dreadful sight will daunt the drooping Thebans,
Whom heaven decrees to raise with peace and glory.
Yet, by these terrible examples warned,
The sacred Fury thus alarms the world:--
Let none, though ne'er so virtuous, great, and high,
Be judged entirely blest before they die. [_Exeunt. _
Footnotes:
1. Imitated from the commencement of the plague in the first book of
the _Iliad_.
2. The story of the Sphinx is generally known: She was a monster, who
delighted in putting a riddle to the Thebans, and slaying each poor
dull Boeotian, who could not interpret it. OEdipus guessed the
enigma, on which the monster destroyed herself for shame. Thus he
attained the throne of Thebes, and the bed of Jocasta.
3. To _dare a lark_, is to fly a hawk, or present some other object of
fear, to engage the bird's attention, and prevent it from taking
wing, while the fowler draws his net:
Farewell, nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.
_Henry VIII. _ Act III. Scene II.
4. The carelessness of OEdipus about the fate of his predecessor is
very unnatural; but to such expedients dramatists are often
reduced, to communicate to their audience what must have been known
to the persons of the drama.
5. _Start_ is here, and in p. 136, used for _started_, being borrowed
from _sterte_, the old perfect of the verb.
6. It is a common idea, that falling stars, as they are called, are
converted into a sort of jelly. "Among the rest, I had often the
opportunity to see the seeming shooting of the stars from place to
place, and sometimes they appeared as if falling to the ground,
where I once or twice found a white jelly-like matter among the
grass, which I imagined to be distilled from them; and hence
foolishly conjectured, that the stars themselves must certainly
consist of a like substance. "
7. Serpens, serpentem vorans, fit draco. Peccata, peccatis
superaddita, monstra fiunt. _Hieroglyphica animalium, per
Archibaldum Simsonum Dalkethensis Ecclesiæ pastorem, p. 95. _
8. The idea of this sacred grove seems to be taken from that of
Colonus near Athens, dedicated to the Eumenides, which gives name
to Sophocles's second tragedy. Seneca describes the scene of the
incantation in the following lines:
_Est procul ab urbe lucus illicibus niger
Dircæa circa vallis irriguæ loca.
Cupressus altis exerens silvis caput
Virente semper alligat trunco nemus;
Curvosque tendit quercus et putres situ
Annosa ramos: hujus abrupit latus
Edax vetustas: illa jam fessa cadens
Radice, fulta pendet aliena trabe.
Amara baccas laurus; et tiliæ leves
Et Paphia myrtus; et per immensum mare
Motura remos alnus; et Phoebo obvia
Enode Zephyris pinus opponens latus.
Medio stat ingens arbor, atque umbra gravi
Silvas minores urget; et magno ambitu
Diffusa ramos, una defendit nemus.
Tristis sub illa, lucis et Phoebi inscius
Restagnat humor, frigore æterno rigens.
Limosa pigrum circuit fontem palus.
Actus Tertius. Scena prima. _
This diffuse account of the different kinds of forest trees, which
composed the enchanted grove, is very inartificially put into the
mouth of Creon, who, notwithstanding the horrible message which he
has to deliver to OEdipus from the ghost, finds time to solace the
king with this long description of a place, which he doubtless knew
as well as Creon himself. Dryden, on the contrary, has, with great
address, rendered the description necessary, by the violence
committed within the sacred precinct, and turned it, not upon
minute and rhetorical detail, but upon the general awful properties
of this consecrated ground. Lucan's fine description of the
Massyllian forest, and that of the enchanted grove in Tasso, have
been both consulted by our author. ]
9. The quarrel betwixt OEdipus and the prophet, who announces his
guilt, is imitated from a similar scene in the OEdipus Tyrannus.
10. Borrowed from Shakespeare;
And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.
_Richard II. _
EPILOGUE.
What Sophocles could undertake alone,
Our poets found a work for more than one;
And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,
With all their force, to draw the ponderous mass from Greece;
A weight that bent even Seneca's strong muse,
And which Corneille's shoulders did refuse.
So hard it is the Athenian harp to string!
So much two consuls yield to one just king.
Terror and pity this whole poem sway;
The mightiest machines that can mount a play.
How heavy will those vulgar souls be found,
Whom two such engines cannot move from ground!
When Greece and Rome have smiled upon this birth,
You can but damn for one poor spot of earth;
And when your children find your judgment such,
They'll scorn their sires, and wish themselves born Dutch;
Each haughty poet will infer with ease,
How much his wit must under-write to please.
As some strong churl would, brandishing, advance
The monumental sword that conquered France;
So you, by judging this, your judgment teach,
Thus far you like, that is, thus far you reach.
Since then the vote of full two thousand years
Has crowned this plot, and all the dead are theirs,
Think it a debt you pay, not alms you give,
And, in your own defence, let this play live.
Think them not vain, when Sophocles is shown,
To praise his worth they humbly doubt their own.
Yet as weak states each other's power assure,
Weak poets by conjunction are secure.
Their treat is what your palates relish most,
Charm! song! and show! a murder and a ghost!
We know not what you can desire or hope,
To please you more, but burning of a Pope. [1]
Footnote:
1. The burning a Pope in effigy, was a ceremony performed upon the
anniversary of queen Elizabeth's coronation. When parties ran high
betwixt the courtiers and opposition, in the latter part of Charles
the II. reign, these anti-papal solemnities were conducted by the
latter, with great state and expence, and employed as engines to
excite the popular resentment against the duke of York, and his
religion. The following curious description of one of these
tumultuary processions, in 1679, was extracted by Ralph, from a
very scarce pamphlet; it is the ceremony referred to in the
epilogue; and it shall be given at length, as the subject is
frequently alluded to by Dryden.
[Illustration:
The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinals, Jesuits,
Friars, &c.
Through the CITY OF LONDON November 17. th 1679.
London Published January 1808 by William Miller, Albemarle Street.
Dryden Works to face Vol 6th page 223]
"On the said 17th of November, 1679, the bells, generally, about
the town, began to ring at three o'clock in the morning. At the
approach of the evening, (all things being in readiness) the solemn
procession began, setting forth from Moregate, and so passed, first
to Aldgate, and thence through Leadenhall-street, by the Royal
Exchange, through Cheapside, and so to Temple-bar in the ensuing
order, viz.
"1. Came six whifflers, to clear the way, in pioneer caps, and red
waistcoats.
"2. A bellman ringing, and with a loud (but doleful) voice, crying
out all the way, remember Justice Godfrey.
"3. A dead body, representing justice Godfrey, in a decent black
habit, carried before a jesuit, in black, on horse-back, in
like manner as he was carried by the assassins to Primrose
Hill.
"4. Next after Sir Edmonbury, so mounted, came a priest in a
surplice, with a cope embroidered with dead bones, skeletons,
skulls, and the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all
those who should murder protestants; and proclaiming it
meritorious.
"5. Then a priest in black alone, with a great silver cross.
"6. Four carmelites, in white and black habits.
"7. Four grey-friars, in the proper habits of their order.
"8. Six jesuits, with bloody daggers.
"9. A concert of wind music.
"10. Four bishops, in purple, and lawn sleeves, with a golden
crosier on their breast, and crosier-staves in their hands.
"11. Four other bishops, in _Pontificalibus_, with surplices, and
rich embroidered copes, and golden mitres on their heads.
"12. Six cardinals, in scarlet robes and caps.
"13. The Pope's doctor, _i. e. _ Wakeman,[a] with jesuits-powder in
one hand, and an urinal in the other.
"14. Two priests in surplices, with two golden crosses.
"Lastly, The Pope, in a lofty, glorious pageant, representing a
chair of state, covered with scarlet, richly embroidered and
fringed, and bedecked with golden balls and crosses: At his feet a
cushion of state, and two boys in surplices with white silk
banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers with an incense pot
before them, censing his holiness, who was arrayed in a splendid
scarlet gown, lined through with ermin, and richly daubed with gold
and silver lace; on his head a triple crown of gold, and a glorious
collar of gold and precious stones, St Peter's keys, a number of
beads, agnus deis, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his
holiness's privy counsellor, the degraded Seraphim, (_anglice_ the
devil,) frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and oft
times instructing him aloud to destroy his majesty, to forge a
protestant plot, and to fire the city again, to which purpose he
held an infernal torch in his hand.
"The whole procession was attended with 150 flambeaux and lights,
by order; but so many more came in volunteers, as made up some
thousands.
"Never were the balconies, windows, and houses more numerously
lined, or the streets closer throng'd with multitudes of people,
all expressing their abhorrence of Popery, with continual shouts
and exclamations; so that 'tis modestly computed, that, in the
whole progress, there could not be fewer than two hundred thousand
spectators.
"Thus with a slow, and solemn state, they proceeded to Temple Bar;
where with innumerable swarms, the houses seemed to be converted
into heaps of men, and women, and children, for whose diversion
there were provided great variety of excellent fireworks.
"Temple Bar being, since its rebuilding, adorned with four stately
statues, viz. those of Queen Elizabeth and King James, on the
inward, or eastern side, fronting the city; and those of King
Charles the I. of blessed memory, and our present gracious
sovereign, (whom God, in mercy to these nations, long preserve! ) on
the outside, facing towards Westminster; and the statue of Queen
Elizabeth in regard to the day, having on a crown of gilded laurel,
and in her hand a golden shield, with this motto inscribed: _The
Protestant Religion, and Magna Charta_, and flambeaux placed before
it. The Pope being brought up near thereunto, the following song,
alluding to the posture of those statues, was sung in parts,
between one representing the English Cardinal (_Howard_)[b] and
others acting the people:
CARDINAL NORFOLK.
From York to London town we come,
To talk of Popish ire,
To reconcile you all to Rome,
And prevent Smithfield fire.
PLEBEIANS.
Cease, cease, thou Norfolk Cardinal,
See yonder stands Queen Bess;
Who sav'd our souls from Popish thrall:
O Queen Bess, Queen Bess, Queen Bess!
Your Popish plot, and Smithfield threat,
We do not fear at all;
For lo! beneath Queen Bess's feet,
You fall, you fall, you fall.
"'Tis true, our King's on t'other side,
A looking tow'rds Whitehall:
But could we bring him round about;
He'd counterplot you all.
"Then down with James, and set up Charles,
On good Queen Bess's side;
That all true Commons, Lords, and Earls,
May wish him a fruitfull bride. "
Now God preserve great Charles our King,
And eke all honest men;
And traitors all to justice bring:
Amen, Amen, Amen.
"Then having entertained the thronging spectators for some time,
with the ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared, just
over against the inner temple gate, his holiness, after some
compliments and reluctancies, was decently toppled from all his
grandeur, into the impartial flames; the crafty devil leaving his
infallibilityship in the lurch, and laughing as heartily at his
deserved ignominious end, as subtle jesuits do at the ruin of
bigotted Lay Catholics, whom themselves have drawn in; or, as
credulous Coleman's abettors did, when, with pretences of a
reprieve at last gasp, they had made him vomit up his soul with a
lye, and sealed his dangerous chops with a halter. This justice was
attended with a prodigious shout, that might be heard far beyond
Somerset-house; and 'twas believed the echo, by continued
reverberations, before it ceased, reached _Scotland_, (the Duke was
then there;) France, and even Rome, itself, damping them all with a
dreadfull astonishment. "
From a very rare broadside, in the collection made by Narcissus
Luttrell.
Footnotes:
a. Sir George Wakeman was physician to the queen, and a catholic.
He was tried for the memorable Popish plot and acquitted, the
credit of the witnesses being now blasted, by the dying
declarations of those who suffered.
b. Philip, the 3d son of Henry Earl of Arundel, and brother to the
Duke of Norfolk, created a Cardinal in 1675. He was a second
cousin of Lady Elizabeth Howard, afterwards the wife of our
poet.
* * * * *
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA:
OR,
TRUTH FOUND TOO LATE.
A
TRAGEDY.
_Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,
Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus. _
HOR.
