O dolorous happe , ruthefull and all of woe Alas I carefull wretche what resteth me ? Shall I now live that with these eyes did soe Beholde my daughter die ? what , shall I see Her death before my face that was my lyfe And I to lyve that was her lyves decay ? Shall not this hand reache to this hart the knife That maye bereve bothe sight and life away , And in the shadowes darke to seke her ghoste And wander there with her ? shall not , alas , This spedy death be wrought , sithe I have lost My dearest ioy of all ? what , shall I passe My later dayes in paine , and spende myne age In teres and plaint ! shall I now leade my life All solitarie as doeth bird in cage , And fede my woefull yeres with waillfull grefe ? No , no , so will not I my dayes prolonge To seke to live one houre sith she is gone : This brest so can not bende to suche a wronge , That she shold dye and I to live alone . No , this will I : she shall have her request And in most royall sorte her funerall Will I performe . Within one tombe shall rest Her earle and she , her epitaph withall Graved thereon shal be . This will I doe And when these eyes some aged teres have shed The tomb my self then will I crepe into And with my blood all bayne their bodies dead . This heart there will I perce , and reve this brest The irksome life , and wreke my wrathful ire Upon my self . She shall have her request , And I by death will purchace my desyre . FINIS . EPILOGUS . If now perhappes ye either loke to see Th'unhappie lovers , or the cruell sire Here to be buried as fittes their degree Or as the dyeng ladie did require Or as the ruthefull kinge in deepe despaire Behight of lateOr if perchaunse you stand in doutfull fere Sithe mad Megera is not returnde againe Least wandring in the world she so bestowe The snakes that crall about her furious face As they may raise new ruthes , new kindes of woe Bothe so and there , and such as you percase Wold be full lothe so great so nere to see I am come forth to do you all to wete Through grefe wherin the lordes of Salerne be The buriall pompe is not prepared yet : And for the furie , you shall onderstand That neither doeth the litle greatest god Finde such rebelling here in Britain land Against his royall power as asketh rod Of ruth from hell to wreke his names decaie Nor Pluto heareth English ghostes complaine Our dames disteyned lyves . Therfore ye maye Be free from feare , sufficeth to maintaine The vertues which we honor in you all , So as our Britain ghostes when life is past Maie praise in heven , not plaine in Plutoes hall Our dames , but hold them vertuous and chast , Worthie to live where furie never came , Where love can see , and beares no deadly bowe , Whoes lyves eternall tromp of glorious fame With joyfull sounde to honest eares shall blowe . FINIS . The Tragedie of Gismonde of Salerne . Such is a specimen of the play as it was originally acted before Queen Elizabeth , at the Inner Temple , in the year 1568 . It was the production of five gentlemen , who were probably students of that society ; and by one of them , Robert Wilmot , afterwards much altered and published in the year 1591 .;and in his Dedication to the Societies of the Inner and Middle Temples , he speaks of the censure which might be cast upon him from the indecorum of publishing a dramatic work arising from his calling . When he died , or whether he left any other works , are points equally uncertain . “ Nearly a century after the date of that play , ” observes Lamb , in his ‘ Extracts from the Garrick Plays , ’ “ Dryden produced his admirable version of the same story from Boccaccio . The speech here extractedmay be compared with the corresponding passage in the ‘ Sigismunda and Guiscardo ’ with no disadvantage to the older performance . It is quite as weighty , as pointed , and as passionate . ” To the Right Worshipful and Virtuous Ladies , the Lady MARY PETER and the Lady ANNE GRAY , long health of body , with quiet of mind , in the favour of God and men for ever . It is most certainthat of all human learning , poetryis the most ancient ; and , in poetry , there is no argument of more antiquity and elegancy than is the matter of love ; for it seems to be as old as the world , and to bear date from the first time that man and woman was : therefore in this , as in the finest metal , the freshest wits have in all ages shown their best workmanship . So amongst others these gentlemen , which with what sweetness of voice and liveliness of action they then expressed it , they which were of her Majesty 's right Honourable maidens can testify . Which being a discourse of two lovers , perhaps it may seem a thing neither fit to be offered unto your ladyships , nor worthy me to busy myself withal : yet can I tell you , madames , it differeth so far from the ordinary amorous discourses of our days , as the manners of our time do from the modesty and innocency of that age . And now for that weary winter is come upon us , which bringeth with him drooping days and tedious nights , if it be true , that the motions of our minds follow the temperature of the air wherein we live , then I think the perusing of some mournful matter , tending to the view of a notable example , will refresh your wits in a gloomy day , and ease your weariness of the louring night . Which if it please you , may serve ye also for a solemn revel against this festival time , for Gismund 's bloody shadow , with a little cost , may be entreated in her self-like person to speak to ye . Having therefore a desire to be known to your W ., I devised this way with myself to procure the same , persuading myself , there is nothing more welcome to your wisdoms than the knowledge of wise , grave , and worthy matters , tending to the good instructions of youths , of whom you are mothers . In this respect , therefore , I shall humbly desire ye to bestow a favourable countenance upon this little labour , which when ye have graced it withal , I must and will acknowledge myself greatly indebted unto your ladyships in this behalf : neither shall I amongst the rest , that admire your rare virtues, cease to commend this undeserved gentleness . Thus desiring the king of heaven to increase his graces in ye both , granting that your ends may be as honourable as your lives are virtuous , I leave with a vain babble of many needless words to trouble you longer . Your Worships ’ most dutiful and humble Orator , ROBERT WILMOT . TO HIS FRIEND R. W . Fair daughter , I have sought thee out with grief , To ease the sorrows of thy vexed heart . How long wilt thou torment thy father thus , Who daily dies to see thy needless tears ? Such bootless plaints , that know nor mean nor end , Do but increase the floods of thy lament ; And since the world knows well there was no want In thee of ought , that did to him belong , Yet all , thou seest , could not his life prolong . Why then dost thou provoke the heavens to wrath ? His doom of death was dated by his stars , “ And who is he that may withstand his fate ? ” By these complaints small good to him thou dost , Much grief to me , more hurt unto thyself , And unto nature greatest wrong of all . My daughter knows the proof of nature 's course . “ For as the heavens do guide the lamp of life , So can they reach no farther forth the flame , Than whilst with oil they do maintain the same . ” Gismund , my joy , set all these griefs apart ; “ The more thou art with hard mishap beset , The more thy patience should procure thine ease . ” What then avails thee fruitless thus to rue His absence , whom the heavens cannot return ? Impartial death thy husband did subdue , Yet hath he spar 'd thy kingly father 's life : Who during life to thee a double stay , As father and as husband , will remain , With double love to ease thy widow 's want , Of him whose want is cause of thy complaint . Forbear thou therefore all these needless tears , That nip the blossoms of thy beauty 's pride . But reason saith thou shouldst the same subdue . In endless moans princes should not delight . And so continues poor and desolate . She that hath learn 'd to master her desires . “ Let reason work , what time doth easily frame In meanest wits , to bear the greatest ills . ” These solitary walks thou dost frequent , Yield fresh occasions to thy secret moans : We will therefore thou keep us company , Leaving thy maidens with their harmony . Wend thou with us . Virgins , withdraw yourselves . Uncouple all our hounds ; lords , to the chase — Fair sister Lucre , what 's the news with you ? What of her ? Is she not well ? Enjoys she not her health ? Say , sister : ease me of this jealous fear ? Resolve me ; what afflicts my daughter so ? Sister , I say , If you esteem or ought respect my life , Her honour and the welfare of our house , Forbear , and wade no farther in this speech . Your words are wounds . I very well perceive The purpose of this smooth oration : This I suspected , when you first began This fair discourse with us . Is this the end Of all our hopes , that we have promised Unto ourself by this her widowhood ? Would our dear daughter , would our only joy , Would she forsake us ? would she leave us now , Before she hath clos 'd up our dying eyes , And with her tears bewail 'd our funeral ? No other solace doth her father crave ; But , whilst the fates maintain his dying life , Her healthful presence gladsome to his soul , Which rather than he willing would forego , His heart desires the bitter taste of death . Her late marriage hath taught us to our grief , That in the fruits of her perpetual sight Consists the only comfort and relief Of our unwieldy age : for what delight , What joy , what comfort , have we in this world ; Now grown in years , and overworn with cares , Subject unto the sudden stroke of death , Already falling , like the mellowed fruit , And dropping by degrees into our grave ? But what revives us , what maintains our soul Within the prison of our wither 'd breast , But our Gismunda and her cheerful sight ? O daughter , daughter ! what desert of mine , Wherein have I been so unkind to thee , Thou shouldst desire to make my naked house Yet once again stand desolate by thee ? O , let such fancies vanish with their thoughts : Tell her I am her father , whose estate , Wealth , honour , life , and all that we possess , Wholly relies upon her presence here . Tell her , I must account her all my joy , Work as she will : but yet she were unjust To haste his death , that liveth by her sight . Then let her not give place to these desires . Tell her , the king commandeth otherwise . Whate'er it be , the king 's command is just . He chargeth justly that commands as king . The king commands obedience of the mind . That law of kindto children doth belong . I then , as king and father , will command . Thou knowest our mind , resolve her , depart — Return the chase , we have been chas 'd enough . Gods ! are ye guides of justice and revenge ? O thou great Thunderer ! dost thou behold With watchful eyes the subtle ‘ scapes of men Harden 'd in shame , sear 'd up in the desire Of their own lusts ? why then dost thou withhold The blast of thy revenge ? why dost thou grant Such liberty , such lewd occasion To execute their shameless villainy ? Thou , thou art cause of all this open wrong , Thou , that forbear'st thy vengeance all too long . If thou spare them , rain then upon my head The fulness of thy plagues with deadly ire , To reave this ruthful soul , who all too sore Burns in the wrathful torments of revenge . O earth , the mother of each living wight , Open thy womb , devour this wither 'd corpse . And thou , O hell , receive my soul to thee . O daughter , daughter O thou fond girl , The shameful ruin of thy father 's house , Is this my hoped joy ? Is this the stay Must glad my grief-ful years that waste away ? For life , which first thou didst receive from me , Ten thousand deaths shall I receive by thee . For all the joys I did repose in thee . Which I , fond man , did settle in thy sight , Is this thy recompense — that I must see The thing so shameful and so villanous : That would to God this earth had swallowed This worthless burthen into lowest deeps , Rather than I , accursed , had beheld The sight that hourly massacres my life ? O whither , whither fly'st thou forth , my soul ? O whither wand'reth my tormented mind ? Those pains , that make the miser glad of death , Have seiz 'd on me , and yet I cannot have What villains may command — a speedy death . Whom shall I first accuse for this outrage ? That God that guideth all , and guideth so This damned deed ? Shall I blaspheme their names — The gods , the authors of this spectacle ? Or shall I justly curse that cruel star , Whose influence assign 'd this destiny ? But may that traitor , shall that vile wretch live , By whom I have receiv 'd this injury ? Or shall I longer make account of her , That fondly prostitutes her widow 's shame ?— I have bethought me what I shall request . Call my daughter : my heart boils , till I see Her in my sight , to whom I may discharge All the unrest that thus distempereth me . Julio , if we have not our hope in vain , Nor all the trust we do repose in thee , Now must we try , if thou approve the same . Herein thy force and wisdom we must see , For our command requires them both of thee . Well , to be short , for I am griev 'd too long By wrath without revenge , I think you know Whilom there was a palace builded strong For war within our court , where dreadless peace Hath planted now a weaker entrance . But of that palace yet one vault remains Within our court , the secret way whereof Is to our daughter Gismund 's chamber laid : There is also another mouth hereof Without our wall , which now is overgrown ; But you may find it out , for yet it lies Directly south a furlong from our palace ! It may be known — hard-by an ancient stoop , Where grew an oak in elder days decay 'd ; There will we that you watch ; there shall you see A villain traitor mount out of a vault . Bring him to us ; it is th'Earl Palurin . What is his fault , neither shall you inquire , Nor list we to disclose . These cursed eyes Have seen the flame , this heart hath felt the fire That cannot else be quench 'd but with his blood . This must be done : this will we have you do . Renuchio , depart : leave us alone . Dar'st thou so desperate decree thy death ? Thy kind abhorreth such unkindly thoughts . As I do unto thee . Have I then lost thy love ? Julio , we thank your pains . Ah , Palurin ! Have we deserved in such traitorous sort Thou shouldst abuse our kingly courtesies , Which we too long in favour have bestow 'd Upon thy false , dissembling heart with us ? What grief thou therewithal hast thrown on us , What shame upon our house , what dire distress Our soul endures , cannot be uttered . And durst thou , villain , dare to undermine Our daughter 's chamber ? durst thy shameless face Be bold to kiss her ? th'rest we will conceal . Sufficeth that thou know'st I too well know All thy proceedings in thy private shames . Herein what hast thou won ? thine own content , With the displeasure of thy lord and king ; The thought whereof if thou hadst had in mind The least remorse of love and loyalty Might have restrain 'd thee from so foul an act . But , Palurin , what may I deem of thee , Whom neither fear of gods , nor love of him , Whose princely favour hath been thine uprear , Could quench the fuel of thy lewd desires ? Wherefore content thee , that we are resolv 'd That thy just death , with thine effused blood , Shall cool the heat and choler of our mood . Thine , Palurin ? What ! lives my daughter thine ? Traitor , thou wrong'st me , for she liveth mine . Rather I wish ten thousand sundry deaths , Than I to live , and see my daughter thine . Thine that is dearer than my life to me ? Thine whom I hope to see an emp ress ? Thine whom I cannot pardon from my sight ? Thine unto whom we have bequeath 'd our crown ?— Julio , we will that thou inform from us Renuchio the captain of our guard , That we command this traitor be convey 'd Into the dungeon underneath our tower ; There let him rest , until he be resolv 'd What farther we intend ; which to understand We will Renuchio repair to us . “ This is the soundest safety for a king , To cut them off , that vex or hinder him . ” Have we been honour 'd by this lecher 's lust ? Our fortune says we must do what we may . And may the subject countermand the king ? What he shall decree ? Nay , what our word Shall best determine . We will not reply . Thou know'st our mind : our heart cannot be eas 'd , But with the slaughter of this Palurin . Where is my daughter ? Ah me ! break , heart ; and thou , fly forth , my soul . What , doth my daughter Gismund take it so ? What hast thou done ? O , let me see thine eyes ! O , let me dress up those untrimmed locks ! Look up , sweet child , look up , mine only joy , ‘ Tis I , thy father , that beseecheth thee : Rear up thy body , strain thy dying voice To speak to him ; sweet Gismund , speak to me . ‘ Tis I , thy father ; ah ! behold my tears , Like pearled dew , that trickle down my cheeks , To wash my silver hairs . O my sweet heart , hast thou receiv 'd thy life From me , and wilt thou , to requite the same , Yield me my death ? yea , death , and greater grief — To see thee die for him , that did defame Thine honour thus , my kingdom , and thy name ? Say , lovely child , say on , whate'er it be , Thy father grants it willingly to thee . My daughter dies — see how the bitter pangs Of tyrannous death torments her princely heart ! She looks on me , at me she shakes her head ; For me she groans ; by me my daughter dies ; I , I the author of this tragedy .— On me , on me , ye heavens , throw down your ire ! Now dies my daughter !hence with princely robes !— now take thine oath of me . First , then , I charge thee that my daughter have Her last request : thou shalt within one tomb Inter her Earl and her , and thereupon Engrave some royal epitaph of love . That done , I swear thee thou shalt take my corpse Which thou shalt find by that time done to death , And lay my body by my daughter 's side — Swear this , swear this , I say . A kingly deed the king resolves to do . To send his soul to ease . Our stars compel it . So we . So shall it in this resolution . Julio , forbear : and as thou lov'st the king , When thou shalt see him welt'ring in his gore . Stretching his limbs , and gasping in his groans , Then , Julio , set to thy helping hand , Redouble stroke on stroke , and drive the stab Down deeper to his heart , to rid his soul . Now stand aside , stir not a foot , lest thou Make up the fourth to fill this tragedy . These eyes that first beheld my daughter 's shame ; These eyes that longed for the ruthful sight Of her Earl 's heart ; these eyes that now have seen His death , her woe , and her avenging teen ; Upon these eyes we must be first aveng 'd . Unworthy lamps of this accursed lump , Out of your dwellings !So ; it fits us thus In blood and blindness to go seek the path That leadeth down to everlasting night . Why fright'st thou , dastard ? be thou desperate ; One mischief brings another on his neck , As mighty billows tumble in the seas , Now , daughter , seest thou not how I amerce My wrath , that thus bereft thee of thy love , Upon my head ? Now , fathers , learn by me , Be wise , be warn 'd to use more tenderly The jewels of your joys . Daughter , I come .FINIS . EPILOGUE . SPOKEN BY JULIO . Lo here the sweets of grisly pale despair ! These are the blossoms of this cursed tree , Such are the fruits of too much love and care , O'erwhelmed in the sense of misery . With violent hands he that his life doth end , His damned soul to endless night doth wend . Now resteth it that I discharge mine oath , To see th'unhappy lovers and the king Laid in one tomb . I would be very loth You should wait here to see this mournful thing : For I am sure , and do ye all to wit , Through grief wherein the lords of Salerne be , These funerals are not prepared yet : Nor do they think on that solemnity . As for the fury , ye must understand , Now she hath seen th'effect of her desire , She is departed , and hath left our land . Granting this end unto her hellish ire . Now humbly pray we , that our English dames May never lead their loves into mistrust ; But that their honours may avoid the shames , That follow such as live in wanton lust . We know they bear them on their virtues bold , With blissful chastity so well content That , when their lives and loves abroad are told , All men admire their virtuous government ; Worthy to live where fury never came , Worthy to live where love doth always see , Worthy to live in golden trump of fame , Worthy to live and honoured still to be . Thus end our sorrows with the setting sun : Now draw the curtains , for our scene is done . R. W . THE WOUNDS OF CIVIL WAR . EDITION . The Wounds of Civill War . Lively set forth in the true Tragedies of Marius and Scilla . As it hath beene publiquely plaide in London , by the Right Honourable the Lord high Admirall his Servants . Written by Thomas Lodge , Gent . O vita ! misero longa , faelici brevis . London , Printed by John Danter , and are to be sold at the signe of the Sunne in Paules Church-yarde . 1594 . 4to . MR. COLLIER 'S PREFACE .Thomas Lodge , in his “ Alarum against Usurers , ” 1584 , speaks of his “ birth , ” and of “ the offspring from whence he came , ” as if he were at least respectably descended ; and on the authority of Anthony Wood , it has been asserted by all subsequent biographers that he was of a Lincolnshire family .Thomas Salter , about the year 1580 , dedicated his “ Mirror of Modesty ” toLangbaine seems to be under a mistake when he states that Lodge was of Cambridge . Wood claims him for the University of Oxford ,where he traces him as early as 1573 , when he must have been about seventeen years old , if he were born , as is generally supposed , in 1556 . We are told by himself that he was a Servitor of Trinity College , and that he was educated under Sir Edward Hoby . At what time and for what cause Lodge left Oxford is not known ; but Stephen Gosson , in the dedication of his “ Plays Confuted in Five Actions , ” printed about 1582 ,accuses him of having become “ a vagrant person , visited by the heavy hand of God , ” as if he had taken to the stage , and thereby had incurred the vengeance of heaven . In 1584 , when Lodge answered Gosson , he was a student of Lincoln 's Inn ;and to “ his courteous friends , the Gentlemen of the Inns of Court , ” he dedicated his “ Alarum against Usurers . ” He afterwards , as he informs Lord Hunsdon , in the epistle before his “ Rosalynde , ” 1590 , “ fell from books to arms ; ” and he calls it “ the work of a soldier and a scholar , ” adding that he had sailed with Captain Clarke to the islands of Terceras and the Canaries . In 1596 , he published his “ Margarite of America , ” and he mentions that it was written in the Straits of Magellan , on a voyage with Cavendish . To this species of vagrancy , however , Gosson did not refer . That Lodge was vagrant in his pursuits we have sufficient evidence ; for , after having perhaps been upon the stage , having entered himself at Lincoln 's Inn , having become a soldier , and having sailed with Clarke and Cavendish , he went , according to Wood , to study medicine at Avignon .This change , if it took place at all , which may admit of doubt ,did not occur until after 1596 . In 1595 his “ Fig for Momus ” appeared . Besides Satires , it contains Epistles and Eclogues ; and in one of the latter Lodge speaks in his own person , under the character of “ Golde ”, and there states his determination no longer to pursue ill-rewarded poetry — “ Which sound rewards , since this neglected time , Repines to yield to men of high desert , I 'll cease to ravel out my wits in rhyme , For such who make so base account of art ; And since by wit there is no means to climb , I 'll hold the plough awhile , and ply the cart ; And if my muse to wonted course return , I 'll write and judge , peruse , commend and burn . ” The dedication of his “ Wit 's Misery , and the World 's Madness , ” is dated “ from my house , at Low Layton , 5th November 1596 . ” The principal reasons for supposing that Lodge studied medicine are the existence of a “ Treatise of the Plague , ” published by “ Thomas Lodge , Doctor in Physic , ” in 1603 , and of a collection of medical recipes in MS ., called “ The Poor Man 's Legacy , ” addressed to the Countess of Arundel , and sold among the books of the Duke of Norfolk .The author of the “ Treatise of the Plague ” expressly tells the Lord Mayor of London , in the dedication , that he was “ bred and brought up ” in the city . Thomas Heywood , in his “ Troja Britannica , ” 1609 , enumerates the celebrated physicians then living — “ As famous Butler , Pedy , Turner , Poe , Atkinson , Lyster , Lodge , who still survive . ” — C. 3 . It hardly deserves remark that Lodge is placed last in this list ; but had he been the same individual who had written for the stage , was the friend of so many dramatists , and was so well known as a lyric poet , it seems likely that Heywood would have said more about him .It is a singular coincidence , that having written how to prevent and cure the plague , he should die of that disease during the great mortality of 1625 . Wood 's expressions on this point , however , are not decisive : “ He made his last exitin September 1625 , leaving then behind him a widow called Joan . ” It has been conjecturedthat he was a Roman Catholic , from a statement made by one of his biographers that , while he practised medicine in London , he was much patronised by persons of that persuasion . There are but two existing dramatic productions on the title-pages of which the name of Lodge is found :the one he wrote alone , and the other in partnership with Robert Greene :—The Wounds of Civill War . Lively set forth in the true Tragedies of Marius and Scilla , & c. Written by Thomas Lodge , Gent . 1594 , 4to .A Looking Glasse for London and Englande . Made by Thomas Lodge , Gentleman , and Robert Greene , in Artibus Magister . 1594 , 1598 , 1602 , 1617 , all in 4to .The most remarkable, and that which has been most often reprinted , is his “ Rosalynde ” which , as is well known , Shakespeare closely followed in “ As You Like It . ”Anterior to the date of any of his other pieces must have been Lodge 's defence of stage-plays , because Stephen Gosson replied to it about 1582 . It was long thought , on the authority of Prynne , that Lodge 's tract was called “ The Play of Plays , ” but Mr Malone ascertained that to be a different production . The only copy of Lodge 's pamphlet seen by Mr Malone was without a title , and it was probably the same that was sold among the books of Topham Beauclerc in 1781 . It is spoken of in “ The French Academy ”as having “ lately passed the press ; ” but Lodge himself , in his “ Alarum against Usurers , ” very clearly accounts for its extreme rarity : he says , “ by reason of the slenderness of the subjectthe godly and reverent that had to deal in the cause , misliking it , forbad the publishing ; ” and he charges Gosson with “ comming by a private unperfect coppye , ” on which he framed his answer , entitled , “ Plays confuted in Five Actions . ” Mr Malonecontends that Spenser alludes to Lodge , in his “ Tears of the Muses , ” under the name of Alcon , in the following lines :— “ And there is pleasing Alcon , could he raise His tunes from lays to matters of more skill ; ” and he adds that Spenser calls Lodge Alcon , from one of the characters in “ A Looking Glasse for London and Englande ; ” but this argument would apply just as much to Lodge 's coadjutor Greene . Mr Malone further argues that Lodge , roused by this applause, produced not long afterwards a “ matter of more skill , ” in “ The Wounds of Civil War . ” THE MOST LAMENTABLE AND TRUE TRAGEDIES OF MARIUS AND SYLLA .