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. O take heed, mother.

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

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. O 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 give you thanks for 't; I would you could resolve me But one truth more: why did my lord Gotharus

Call me the issue of his blood?

Queen. Alas,

He thinks thou art.

Har. What are those words? I am

Undone again.

Queen. Ha!

Har. 'Tis too late

To call 'em back. He thinks I am his son.

Queen. I have confess'd too much, and tremble with

The imagination. Forgive me, child,

And heaven, if there be mercy to a crime

So black, as I must now, to quit thy fears,
Say I've been guilty of: we have been sinful,
And I was not unwilling to oblige

His active brain for thy advancement, by

Abusing his belief thou wert his own.

But thou hast no such stain; thy birth is innocent,

Or may I perish ever: 'tis a strange
Confession to a child, but it may drop

A balsam to thy wound. Live, my Haraldus,
If not, for this, to see my penitence,

And with what tears I'll wash away my sin.
Har. I am no bastard then

Queen. Thou art not.

Har. But

I am not found, while you are lost. No time

Can restore you. My spirits faint

Queen. Will nothing comfort thee?

Har. Give me your blessing; and, within my heart, I'll pray you may have many. My soul flies

'Bove this vain world: good mother, close mine eyes. Queen. Never died so much sweetness in his years.*

THE BROTHERS: A COMEDY. BY JAMES SHIRLEY.

Don Ramires leaves his son Fernando with a heavy curse, and a threat of disinheriting, if he do not renounce Felisarda, the poor niece of Don Carlos, whom he courts, when by his father's command he should address Jacinta, the daughter and rich heiress of Carlos, his younger brother Francisco's Mistress.

Fer. Why does not all the stock of thunder fall? Or the fierce winds, from their close caves let loose, Now shake me into atoms?

Fran. Fie, noble brother, what can so deject

Your masculine thoughts? is this done like Fernando,
Whose resolute soul so late was arm'd to fight
With all the miseries of man, and triumph

With patience of a martyr? I observed

My father late come from you.

Fer. Yes, Francisco:

He hath left his curse upon me.

Fran. How?

Fer. His curse: dost comprehend what that word carries,

Shot from a father's angry breath? unless

I tear poor Felisarda from my heart,

He hath pronounc'd me heir to all his curses.

Does this fright thee, Francisco? Thou hast cause

To dance in soul for this: 'tis only I

Must lose, and mourn; thou shalt have all; I am

* Mamillus in the Winter's Tale in this manner droops and dies from a conceit of his mother's dishonor.

Degraded from my birth, while he affects
Thy forward youth, and only calls thee son,
Son of his active spirit, and applauds

Thy progress with Jacinta, in whose smiles
Thou may'st see all thy wishes waiting for thee;
Whilst poor Fernando for her sake must stand
An excommunicate from every blessing,
A thing that dare not give myself a name,
But flung into the world's necessities,
Until in time, with wonder of my wants,
I turn a ragged statue, on whose forehead
Each clown may carve his motto.

Don Ramires is seized with a mortal sickness, but forbids Fernando to approach his chamber till he shall send for him, on pain of his dying

curse.

FERNANDO.

Fer. This turn is fatal, and affrights me; but
Heaven has more charity than to let him die
With such a hard heart; 'twere a sin, next his
Want of compassion, to suspect he can
Take his eternal flight, and leave Fernando
This desperate legacy; he will change the curse
Into some little prayer, I hope; and then

Enter Servant and Physician.

Ser. Make haste, I beseech you, doctor.

Phy. Noble Fernando.

Fer. As you would have men think your art is meant Not to abuse mankind, employ it all

To cure my poor sick father.

Phy. Fear it not, sir.

[Exeunt Physician and Servant.

Fer. But there is more than your thin skill requir'd,
To state a health; your recipes, perplext

With tough names, are but mockeries and noise,
Without some dew from heaven, to mix and make 'em
Thrive in the application: what now?

Enter Servant.

Ser. Oh sir, I am sent for the confessor,
The doctor fears him much; your brother says
You must have patience; and not enter, sir;
Your father is a going, good old man,

And, having made him heir, he's loth your presence
Should interrupt his journey.

Fer. Francisco may be honest, yet methinks
It would become his love to interpose
For my access, at such a needful hour,
And mediate for my blessing; not assist
Unkindly thus my banishment. I'll not
Be lost so tamely. Shall my father die,
And not Fernando take his leave?
I dare not.
"If thou dost hope I should take off this curse,
Do not approach until I send :" 'twas so;
And 'tis a law that binds above my blood.

Enter Confessor and Servant.
Make haste, good father, and if heaven deny
Him life, let not his charity die too :
One curse may sink us both. Say how I kneel,
And beg he would bequeath me but his blessing.
Then, though Francisco be his heir, I shall
Live happy, and take comfort in my tears,
When I remember him so kind a father.
Conf. It is your duty.

Fer. Do my holy office.

Those fond philosophers that magnify

Our human nature, and did boast we had
Such a prerogative in our rational soul,
Convers'd but little with the world, confin'd

To cells, and unfrequented woods, they knew not
The fierce vexation of community;

Else they had taught, our reason is our loss,
And but a privilege that exceedeth sense
By nearer apprehension of what wounds,
To know ourselves most miserable. My heart

[Exit.

[Exit.