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the mock-monarchy of the former, (which is altogether borrowed from Sancho's government in Barataria,) very greatly contribute to the general design of the whole poem, which is to assert the right of an oppressed people, to resist the encroachments upon their liberty, by a tyrant who admits of no other law of govern. ment than his own will and pleasure.'

" It was an attempt somewhat bold to exhibit on the stage, a tragedy containing such principles in the days of King James, when the right of · kings de jure divino was so universally predominant, and even preached from the throne.

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Ferrand, the libidinous tyrant of Naples.
Virolet, a noble gentleman, studious of his country's

freedom. Brissonet, two honest gentlemen, confederates with Camillo, S

Virolet.
Ronvere, a villain, captain of the guard.
Villio, a court fool.
Castruccio, a court parasite.
Pandulpho, a noble gentleman, father to Virolet.
Duke of Sesse, enemy to Ferrand, proscribed, and

turned pirate.
Ascanio, nephew to Ferrand.
Lucio, a boy, servant to Virolet.
Master.
Gunner.
Boatswain.
Chirurgeon
Sailors.
Doctor.
Citizens.
Guards, Soldiers, and Servants.

Juliana, the matchless wife of Virolet.
Martia, daughter of the Duke of Sesse, second wife

to Virolet. Court-ladies.

SCENE,-Naples, and a Ship at Sea.

The principal actors were,
Joseph Taylor, John Lowin,
Robert Benfield, Rich. Robinson,
John Underwood, Nich. Toolie,
George Birch,

Rich. Sharp
Fol. 1679.

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Naples

. A Room in the House of Virolet.

Enter VIROLET and LUCIO.

Vir. Boy!
Lucio. Sir ?

Vir. If my wife seek me, tell her that
Designs of weight, too heavy for her knowledge,
Exact my privacy.

Lucio. I shall, sir.

Vir. Do then;
And leave me to myself.

Lucio. 'Tis a raw morning,
And, would you please to interpret that for duty
Which you may construe boldness, I could wish
(To arm yourself against it) you would use
More of my service.

Vir. I have heat within here,

A noble heat, good boy, to keep it off ;
I shall not freeze. Deliver my excuse,
And
you

have done your part.

Enter JULIANA.

Lucio. That is prevented;
My lady follows you.

Vir. Since I must be cross'd then,
Let her perform that office.
Lucio. I obey ye.

[Erit. Vir. Pr'ythee to-bed : To be thus fond's more

tedious Than if I were neglected.

Jul. 'Tis the fault then Of love and duty, which I would fall under, Rather than want that care which you may chal

lenge As due to my obedience.

Vir. I confess
This tenderness argues a loving wife,
And more deserves my heart's best thanks than

anger.
Yet I must tell you, sweet, you do exceed
In your affection, if you would engross me
To your delights alone.

Jul. I am not jealous :
If my embraces have distasted you,
(As I must grant you every way so worthy
That 'tis not in weak woman to deserve you,
Much less in miserable me, that want
Those graces some more fortunate are stored with,)
Seek any whom you please, and I will study,
With my best service, to deserve those favours
That shall yield you contentment.

Vir. You are mistaken.
Jul. No, I am patient, sir; and so, good morrow!

I will not be offensive.

Vir. Hear my reasons.
Jul. Though in your life a widow's bed receives

me,
For your sake I must love it. May she prosper
That shall succeed me in it, and your ardour
Last longer to her!

Vir. By the love I bear, First to my country's peace, next to thyself, (To whom compared, my life I rate at nothing) Stood here a lady that were the choice abstract Of all the beauties Nature ever fashion'd, Of Art gave ornament to, compared to thee, Thus as thou art, obedient and loving, I should contemn and loath her!.

Jul. I do believe you. How I am bless'd in my assured belief This is unfeign'd! And why this sadness then?

Vir. Why, Juliana ?
Believe me, these my sad and dull retirements,
My often, nay, almost continued fasts,
(Sleep banish'd from my eyes, all pleasures stran-

gers,)
Have neither root nor growth from any cause
That may arrive at woman. Shouldst thou be
(As chastity forbid !) false to my bed,
ì should lament my fortune, perhaps punish
Thy falsehood, and then study to forget thee:
But that which, like a never-emptied spring,
Feeds high the torrent of my swelling grief,
Is what my country suffers; there's a ground
Where sorrow may be planted, and spring up
Through yielding rage, and womanish despair,
And yet not shame the owner.

Jul. I do believe it true;
Yet I should think myself a happy woman,
If, in this general and timely mourning,

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