LUCENTIUS, with Torches.
Bell.
Lord Byron, what you say cannot be true;
I'd sooner think that Nature's Self could err,
Than She so cold, so chaste, and so reserv'd.
Byron.
You may think it all Chimera, if you please, Sir.
You may think too, that 'tis not out of regard for you that I
inform you of it: Let that appear hereafter, and esteem me
such as I shall prove. As for my Brother I know he values
you highly, and has forwarded this Match out of pure Affection
to you: Alas! he knows not what a false Serpent he so long
has nurs'd to sting his very Heart.
Lucen.
Is it possible Lucilia should be the base Wretch you
represent her, Lord Byron? If so, I have not liv'd long enough
to know any thing at all of Womankind yet.
-- 45 --
Byron.
There's no Term bad enough to paint out her Treachery;
wonder not till farther Proof; 'tis now the very Hour of
their meeting, the Time that I with these astonish'd Ears heard
appointed for it. Come but with me to a proper Place, and
you shall see her Chamber-Window enter'd even the Night before
her Wedding-Day: See but this, and then afterwards marry
her, if you choose it.
Bell.
Can this be so? I will not think it.
Byron.
Nay, if you dare not trust what you see, go back again
and confess not what you have heard. If you'll follow me,
I'll shew you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard
more, proceed accordingly.
Bell.
If I should see—but sure I can't, Lucentius;
If I should see, what I am told, to-night,
To-morrow at the Fane, where I should wed her,
I'll publickly proclaim the monstrous Action.
Lucen.
And as I endeavour'd to obtain her for you, my Lord,
I'll join with you to disgrace her.
Byron.
I will blast her no farther till you are my Witnesses:
They would call that Malice, Spite and Craft in me, what in
you can be nothing but strong Conviction and just Resentment.
—Come on, or else you'll let the Hour be past.
Bell.
I would it were.—Byron, I cannot go,
Something has rivetted me sure to Earth;
And if my Legs may falter, and be chang'd
From their own natural Use, why mayn't my Eyes too?
Byron.
'Tis true, my Lord, I therefore would advise you
not to go: You'll not believe even what you can't help seeing,
and that will only aggravate your Torment.—I wish I had
conceal'd this cruel Mischief, then you might have been at rest,
and ne'er have known it.
Bell.
No, Byron, I am not so mean a Wretch
To clothe myself in false Security,
And bear my Shame with Smiles.—Alas, Lucentius,
How greatly doth this Spring of Love resemble
Th' uncertain Glory of an April-Day,
Which now with unpall'd Rays revives the Heart,
And the next Moment pours a Tempest on us!
Byron.
The Time now serves not for Delay; come on, if
you will go—if not—
-- 46 --
Bell.
I dare not go.
Byron.
Why then, farewel.
[Going.
Bell.
Byron, come back; I'll go
To prove her true, and your Aspersions false.
Byron.
Come, come; leave that till you have seen the Sequel.
[Exeunt.
Enter PORCO, ASINO, and several Watch.
Asino.
Gentlemen, answer to your Names: Are you all good
Men, and true?
Porco.
I hope so, seeing they are chosen for the Duke's
Watch.
Asino.
Well, give them their Charge, Neighbour, now the
Night is almost over.
Porco.
I will do it, Neighbour Asino, for I love giving
Charges; and harkye, Gentlemen, you must all desire me to
print it when I have done, for my Labours are all intended for
the Good of my Country. But first, who think you the most
disartless Man, Neighbour, to carry the Lanthorn now we are
going home?
Asino.
Why Foundling Hugh; for he, you know, can write
and read.
Porco.
Come hither, Hugh.—To be a well-favour'd Man
is the Gift of Fortune, but to write and read comes by Nature.
—You must comprehend all Vagrants whatsoever,
except it be the Duke's Players, mark me that; for their Business
is one of your Octurnal Professions, and therefore touch
not them, unless you happen to see 'em stroling by Day-light.—
You are likewise to bid any Man stand in the Duke's Name.
Asino.
But suppose he will not stand, Neighbour Porco.
Porco.
Why then let him go, and thank Heaven that you are
rid of a Knave.—You must also make no Noise in the
Streets, for 'tis not right that the Watch should babble and
talk.
1 Watch.
Noa, noa, Master Constable, we'll make no Noise,
we'll only take a quiet Nap; we'd rather sleep than talk; we
know what belongs to a Watch.
Porco.
Ay, ay, you speak like a most ancient and quiet
Watchman; for I cannot see how Sleeping can offend any one.
1 Watch.
Why i'facks, Master Constable, I have had a kind
of a drowsy Lethary, as they call it, hanging upon me for these
-- 47 --
many Years, and being disabled thereby to get my Livelihood,
the Parish made me a Watchman, an please you.
Porco.
Good, good; a very proper Post for a Man that can
never keep himself awake. Well, well, sleep on your Bellyfull,
honest Fellow.—But let me see, when did these two
new Faces come into the Fratarnatary?
1 Watch.
This is the first Night they have been upon Duty,
an please you.
Porco.
And what was you made Watchman for?
2 Watch.
Because I had got a Reumasie, an please you, and
had lost the Use of both my Arms.
Porco.
A good Reason.—And you, Friend?
3 Watch.
Because I ha' the Gout, an please you, and I can
scarce stond o' my Legs.
Porco.
Very well, very well; so you make just one Man between
you; that's enough, that's enough.—In the next Place
you are to call at all the Publick-houses, and bid them that are
drunk get 'em to Bed.
Asino.
How if they will not, Neighbour?
Porco.
Why let 'em stay till they are sober; and if they make
no other Answer then, you may say they are not the Men you
took 'em for.
1 Watch.
Ay, ay.
Porco.
If you meet a Street-robber, House-breaker, or Pick-pocket,
you may suspect him by virtue of your Office to be no
honest Man; and for such kind of Men the less you meddle
or make with 'em the better.
Asino.
What, Neighbour Porco, if they know him to be a
Thief shan't they lay hold of him?
Porco.
Why by the Statue made and prolong'd in that Case,
they may; but the most peaceable way, if you do take a Thief,
is to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out of your
Company.
Asino.
Why you have been always reckon'd a merciful Man,
Neighbour, that I'll say for you.
Porco.
Why truly, I would not hang a Dog by my Will; I
hate the very Thoughts of Hanging, for I was once, Neighbour,
night being hang'd myself.
Asino.
And how came you off, Neighbour?
-- 48 --
Porco.
By having an Office at Court—for Courtiers,
you know, are never hang'd; they always save one another,
Neighbour.—But one Word more, Neighbours; watch
diligently about the Palace here, for the Wedding being this
Morning there's a great deal to do. But who are these that are
coming here?
Asino.
Why they are two of our People that have been upon
the Scout, and I see they have fasten'd their Fists upon somebody.
Enter two Watchmen, holding GREMIO.
Porco.
Well, Gentlemen, who have you got there? Bring
him before us.
Watch.
We have recover'd, an please you, Mr. Constable,
one of the horriblest Pieces of Traytorism that ever was hatch'd.
Porco.
Oho! come, come, let me examine into it—I'll soon
get to the bottom of it; for I'm as good at Examination, Neighbour,
as at giving of Charges, as you shall see: Do you write
down the Examination on your Hat.—In the first Place,
What is your Name, Sirrah?
Grem.
I am a Gentleman, Sir, and my Name is Gremio.
Porco.
Write down, Mr. Gentleman Gremio.—Watch,
come forth; I charge you, in the Duke's Name, accuse this
Man.
Watch.
An please you, Master Constable, we overheard this
Man talking with Lord Byron, who is a very great Villain, an
please you.
Porco.
Write down, Lord Byron a Villain.—What did
they talk of?
Watch.
Why of a Contrivance they had been practising to
ruin our good Duke's Daughter, and to accuse her wrongfully,
which this Prisoner had been the Author of, and for which he
was to have a power of Mony, an please you.
Porco.
Flat Perjury! horrible Blurglary as ever was committed!
Grem. [Aside.]
I have brought myself into a fine Condition
here.—Harkye, old Fellow, let's hear no more of your Folly
and Impertinence; take this and say nothing; I'll—
Porco.
Why you insolent Varlet, would you corrupt the
Constable of the Watch? This is Scandalum Magnation.—
-- 49 --
Pray stand a little further off, I don't like thy Looks: It is
prov'd that you and your Master are both of you false Knaves.
How answer you for your self? As for your Master, he's above
our Recognisant.
Grem.
Why I say, I'm none, Sir.
Porco.
A marvellous witty Fellow, I do assure you.—Have
you writ down that he's no Knave?
Grem.
Fellow, thou art an Ass.
Porco.
Write that down; write me down an Ass immediately.
Thou shalt suffer for this, Fellow.—Abuse a Man
that is an Officer in the Watch; and which is more, an Housholder;
and which is more, a Man that knows the Statues!—
Remember, Neighbour Asino, that I am an Ass.—Go to,
Fellow, thou art a superlatate Villain, as shall be prov'd upon
thee by good Witness.—You han't forgot to write me
down an Ass?—Come, let us away with him to the Watchhouse,
bind him Neck and Heels, and then carry his Examination
to the Duke.—I am heartily glad that I am writ down
an Ass.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to a Dressing-Room in Lucilia's Apartment.
LUCILIA and DELIA.
Lucil.
Pr'ythee, Delia, take away thy impertinent Fingers;
I'm sick of Dressing, and will be plagu'd no longer.
Delia.
Troth, Madam, I think your other Suit would have
been better; and I'll warrant your Cousin will say so.
Lucil.
My Cousin's a Fool, and thou art another; I'll wear
none but this.
Delia.
I like the Cut of this Sleeve prodigiously, 'tis something
quite new; Lady Liberia's Gown that was prais'd so
much is a mere Night-Gown to this; Cloth of Gold and Tossels,
and lac'd with Silver, set with Brillants, Down-Sleeves,
Side-Sleeves and Skirts, and a Fringe half a Yard deep round
the Train.—But for a delicate, nice, elegant, courtly, novel
Fancy, yours is worth ten on't.
Lucil.
Heav'n give me Joy to wear it, for I'm sure my Heart
is uncommonly heavy under it.
-- 50 --
Enter LIBERIA.
Cousin, Good-morrow.
Lib.
Good-morrow, my Dear; you seem to speak in the sick
Tune, Child.
Lucil.
I'm out of all other Tune, I think; and yet I know
not why.
Lib.
I am not quite what I use to be, myself.—My Head
has been full of the oddest Megrims ever since Yesterday.
Lucil.
Have a care, my Dear, that's a kind of Love-Symptom.
Lib.
If it prove so I'll swear that you have infected me.
Lucil. [Aside.]
I know that—witness the Grotto.
Lib.
But come, my Dear, your fatal Hour's at hand; 'tis
time you were ready.—O' my troth I'm exceeding ill.—
Heigh ho!
Delia.
Well, Fortune send every one their Heart's Desire.—
You may think perhaps that I imagine you are in Love, Madam.
—No, 'tis impossible that ever can be after what I have heard
you say on the Subject; and yet Lord Protheus was just such
another; but now he's become a Man, and boldly enters the
Lists; and how you may be alter'd I know not, but you seem
to look with your Eyes as other Women do.
Lib.
How long have you wore Apprehension, Delia?
Delia.
Ever since Yesterday that you cast it off, Madam.
Lib.
What a Pace doth thy Tongue keep!
Delia.
Not a false Gallop, as you are convinc'd, Madam.
Lib.
O' my Conscience I'm afraid not, Delia.
AIR.
Love's Power a while I did despise,
And scorn'd the fond Desire;
But ah! how ill a Heart of Ice
Resists a Dart of Fire.
So gentle is the amorous Chain,
So tempting Cupid's Lure,
I hug the Bondage, court the Pain,
And only dread a Cure.
-- 51 --
Lucil.
I thank you, my Dear, for this kind Entertainment;
but all thy Mirth and Musick can't dispel the Gloom that hangs
about my Heart; however, Liberia, let us venture to the Temple:
I'm now prepar'd to be made a Sacrifice.
Lib.
Ah! never fear, my Dear, you'll meet with a merciful
Priest in Bellario: Let me see you but come off with Triumph,
and then I won't swear that—nothing at all—I won't think
on't.—Come, let's be gone.
[Exeunt.
Enter GRATIANO, PORCO, and ASINO.
Grati.
What would you have with me, honest Friends?
Porco.
An please your Highness I would have Confidence
with you that concerns you nearly.
Grati.
Be plain and brief then, for I'm call'd away.
Porco.
Why the Case is this, an please your Highness.
Asino.
Yes, indeed it is, an please your Highness.
Grati.
What, what is it?
Porco.
Why, Neighbour Asino here will interrupt me.—
He's an old Man, Sir, and his Wits are not quite so ready as
'twere to be wish'd; but in troth he's as honest as the Skin between
his Brows.
Asino.
Yes, Thanks be prais'd, I'm as honest a Mon as any
Mon living, that's an old Mon, and no honester than I.
Porco.
Comparisons are odorous, Neighbour.
Grati.
You are too tedious; I must leave you, if you won't
let me know your Business directly.
Porco.
Why, an please your Highness, if I was as tedious
as a King, I could find in my Heart to bestow it all on your
Honour.
Grati.
All thy Tediousness on me, Friend, Hah!
Porco.
Yea, and twice a thousand times more.
Grati.
I am not to know then what you have to say.
Asino.
Why, an please your Highness, our Watch to-night
have taken as arrant an Knave as any in the Kingdom, excepting
your Highness's Presence.
Porco.
Ah, good old Man, Sir!—He will be talking, as
they say—When Age is in, the Wit's out.—Well, he's a
good Man, in troth he is, as ever broke Bread; but all Men
are not alike; 'tis a strange World that we live in, Heaven help
us all!
-- 52 --
Grati.
Fare thee well, Friend, thou never hadst thy like, I
believe.
Porco.
One Word more, and I have done speaking for ever,
an please your Highness—Our Watch have indeed comprehended
an auspicious Person, and I would have him brought before
your Highness this Morning.
Grati.
Secure him, Friend, 'till I am more at leisure; you
shall have Notice.
Porco.
Your Highness speaks like a most thankful and reverend
Brother Magistrate.
Grati.
Now then for the Temple,
And there accomplish all my Wishes aim at:
Shine but this Nuptial Morn propitious to me,
Let that one fragrant Flow'r the Gods have giv'n me,
Transplanted from my Garden, find a Soil
Still more indulgent, if 'tis possible;
Grant me but this—then, Fortune, I'll discharge thee.
[Exit Gratiano.
Porco.
Well, his Highness is a most worthy Gentleman; he's
a Ruler that's like a Ruler, Neighbour; he never grudges hearing
or speaking to do right to his poor Dependants; believe me,
Neighbour, 'tis a blessed time with honest Folks when they
have got a Duke that loves his People.
Asino.
But don't all Rulers love their People, Neighbour?
Porco.
Oh dear Heart, dear Heart! Neighbour, you are older
than I, but not half so wise, I see that.—All Rulers love
their People! why how should they, when most of 'em never
see a Score of 'em in their Lives? No, no, they love the Fleece
of the Flock, but for the poor Sheep themselves—
Asino.
Not all Rulers love their People! they must be foolish
Rulers indeed!
Porco.
Well, we live in better Times, we have none of
those Doings now; but I have known formerly, Neighbour—
but no matter for that—since our Governor is loving let
us be dutiful, and go and secure this false Traitor effectually,
that he may'nt escape.
Asino.
I'll follow you, Neighbour.
-- 53 --
Porco.
And yet methinks I'm a little sorry for the Rascal too,
he'll certainly be committed, and I abhor the Thoughts of a
Mittimus ever since I was committed my self.
[Exeunt.
Scene 3
SCENE changes to a Church; Priests at the Altar.
GRATIANO, BELLARIO in Mourning, BYRON, LUCENTIUS, PROTHEUS, LUCILIA, LIBERIA, &c.
Grati.
What means, young Lord, that Fun'ral Garb to day?
It suits but ill the Splendor of our Court,
Which shines in all its Pomp to grace your Nuptials.
Bell.
My Lord, the Nuptial and the Fun'ral Rites
Are sometimes not so different in their Nature,
But the same Sable may befit them both.
Here 'tis not so indeed.—Howe'er, Lucilia,
I hope you'll pardon this peculiar Humour.
If the Heart's fair, no matter for the Dress.
Grati.
Come, Sir, begin the Rites.—
[To the Priest.
Bell.
First, by your Leave, Sir,
I ask you, if with free and honest Soul
You give your Daughter, this fair spotless Virgin,
To be the dear Partaker of my Fortune,
The pure untainted Partner of my Breast?
Grati.
As freely, Sir, as Heaven did give her me.
Bell.
And what have I to give you back, whose Worth
Can counterpoise this rich, this precious Gift?
Byron.
Nothing, unless you render her again.
Bell.
My Lord, you learn me just Retaliation:
There, Gratiano, take her back again;
Give not this blemish'd Brillant to your Friend:
She's but the Sign and Semblance of her Honour.
Behold, how like a Virgin's are her Blushes:
O what a Lustre! what a Mask of Truth
Can artful Vice fair-robe itself withal!
Comes not that Blood as modest Evidence
To witness blameless Virtue? Would you think,
All you that gaze upon her, would you think
She's false to Honour? But 'tis true, too true;
She knows the Heat of a luxurious Bed;
-- 54 --
Her Blush is Guiltiness, not Modesty.
Grati.
What do you mean, my Lord?
Bell.
Not to be marry'd—
Not join my Soul to an abandon'd Wanton.
Grati.
My Lord, if you yourself have wrong'd her Virtue,
And vanquish'd the Resistance of her Youth—
Bell.
I know what you would say.—No, Gratiano,
I never tempted her with Word too large,
But shew'd her, like a Brother to his Sister,
Bashful Sincerity and comely Love.
Lucil.
And seem'd I ever otherwise to you, Sir?
Bell.
You seem'd to me as Dian in her Orb,
As chaste as is the Rose ere it be blown:
But you are more intemp'rate in your Blood
Than—what I will not say.—Go, go, Lucilia.
Lucil.
Heav'ns! are you well, my Lord? Whence comes this Phrensy?
Grati.
Are these things said? or is it all a Dream?
Byron.
Yes, Sir, these things are said, and they are true.
I wish 'twere but a Dream.
Bell.
Sir, stand I here?
Is this your Brother? that the sage Lucentius?
And are our Eyes and Ears our own?—Then tell me
If that is not Lucilia, that your Daughter?
Grati.
All this is so.—But what of this, my Lord?
Bell.
Let me then move one Question to that Daughter.
What Man was he with whom, at last Night's Noon,
You talk'd so freely from your Chamber-Window?
If you have Honour left, answer to this.
Lucil.
I talk'd! talk'd with a Man! talk'd from my Window
At dead of Night!—The Charge is so confounding,
So base, so false, that I can make no Answer.
Bell.
Why then you have no Honour left, Lucilia.
I'm sorry, Sir, that you must hear this Tale:
My self, your Brother, and this good old Man
Did hear her, see her at that Time last Night,
Talk with a Pander from her Chamber-Window:
Who, like a lib'ral Villain, hath confess'd
The many vile Encounters they have had.
-- 55 --
Byron.
Forbear, my Lord, it is not to be nam'd;
There is not Chastity enough in Language,
Without Offence, to speak it.—O Lucilia!
My Soul is griev'd to think of thy Behaviour.
Lucil.
Good Heavens defend me! how am I beset!
Bell.
O what a Pearl, fair Falshood, hadst thou been,
If half thy outward Graces had been plac'd
About the Thoughts and Counsels of thy Heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, Adieu;
For thee I'll lock up all the Gates of Love,
And on my Eyelids shall Suspicion reign,
To turn all Beauty into Thoughts of Mischief.
Grati.
Hath no Man's Dagger here a Point for me?
Lucil.
Thou art not, sure, that Monster thou dost seem!
'Tis but to try how much I can forbear.
Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art,
When love of Freedom struggled in my Breast,
And Nature prompted me to live a Virgin,
Broke all those Vows to be thus basely treated;
To have my Fame, unspotted 'till this Moment,
Be sully'd injur'd, ruin'd thus by thee.
I need no Dagger's Point—burst, burst, my Heart:
O welcome Death to cover my Dishonour.
[Faints.
Lib.
Hah! Death indeed.—Help, Uncle; help, Lord Protheus.
Byron.
Let us be gone, my Lord; her Shame discover'd
Smothers her Spirits up.
Bell.
Oh fatal Hour!—
Byron.
Oh fatal Plague, if 'twere not thus prevented.
[Exeunt Bell. Byr. and Lucen.
Grati.
O Fate! take not away thy heavy Hand,
Death is the fairest Cover for her Shame,
To wrap her Crimes in everlasting Night.
Lib.
How is it, Cousin?
Proth.
Have Comfort, Lady.
Grati.
Dost thou look up?
Proth.
And wherefore should she not?
Grati.
Wherefore! why doth not every earthly thing
Cry Shame upon her? Could she here deny
-- 56 --
The Story that is printed in her Blood?
Oh! do not live, do not lift up thy Eyes;
I want thee not.—Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for this, at frugal Nature's Frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why wast thou ever lovely in my Eyes?
Why had I not with charitable Hand
Took up a Beggar's Issue at my Gates?
Who, thus defil'd, and cloath'd with Infamy,
I might have said—No Part of it is mine.
But mine! and mine I lov'd! and mine I prais'd!
And mine that I was fond of! Mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her—why she—O! she is fall'n
Into a Pit of such black Infamy,
The Sea hath Drops too few to wash her clean,
And Salt too little which may Season give
To her foul tainted Fame.
Lib.
Goor Sir, be patient,
I'll pledge my Life my Cousin is defam'd.
Grati.
Lady, Were you her Bedfellow last Night?
Lib.
Until last Night, my Lord, I always have been.
Grati.
Confirm'd, confirm'd! O that is stronger made,
Which was before barr'd up with Ribs of Iron.
Would they all lye? and would Bellario lye
Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her Foulness
Wash'd it with Tears?—Hence from her, let her die.
Proth.
I have observ'd her all the time, my Lord;
I mark'd a thousand blushing Apparitions
Glow in her Face, a thousand harmless Shames,
In Angel Whiteness, bear away those Blushes;
And in her Eyes appear'd a gen'rous Fire,
Which spoke her guiltless of the Crime she's charg'd with.
Lib.
What Man is that you are accus'd of, Cousin?
Lucil.
They know that do accuse me, I know none:
If I know more of any Man alive,
Than that which Virgin-Modesty may warrant,
Let ev'ry Curse light on me.—Oh, my Father!
Prove you that any Man with me convers'd
-- 57 --
At Hours indecent; or that Yester-night
I from my Window talk'd with any Creature,
Reject me, hate me, torture me to Death.
Lib.
Psha! 'tis all Madness, Villany, or Error.
Proth.
Two of 'em are renown'd for nicest Honour,
And if they lie under some vile Delusion
The Author may be guess'd—your Brother Byron,
Whose very Soul is kept alive by Mischief.
Grati.
I know not.—If they speak but Truth of her
These Hands shall crush her.—If they wrong her Honour,
The proudest of 'em all shall hear they've done it:
Time hath not yet so dry'd this Blood of mine,
Nor Iron Age so prey'd on my Invention,
Nor Fortune made such Havock of my Wealth,
Nor my bad Life so reft me of my Friends,
But they shall find, awak'd in such a sort,
Both Strength of Limb and Policy of Mind,
Ability of Power, and choice of Friends
To quit me of 'em throughly.—
Proth.
Pause a little,
And yield to my Advice: The Lady here
Was left by them as dead; let her a while
Be kept conceal'd, and publish she is dead:
Then will she be lamented and excus'd
By those who now condemn her; for 'tis certain
That what we have we prize not to the Worth,
While we enjoy it; but if once 'tis lost,
Why then we rack the Value, then we find
The Virtue which Possession would not shew us
While it was ours.—
Thus it will happen to the fond Bellario;
When he shall hear she dy'd upon his Words,
Then, if Love e'er had Interest in his Heart,
He'll mourn, and wish he had not so accus'd her,
And toil to find from whence his Error sprang.
Let this be so, and doubt not of Success.
Grati.
My Lord, your Counsel's Medicine to my Soul.
Come, Daughter, I will still believe thee injur'd,
And shrink at nought to justify thy Fame.
-- 58 --
For O! a dawning Hope glows in my Breast,
And something whispers we shall still be blest;
That this short Morning-Gloom shall break away,
And leave more clear, more heav'nly bright the Day.
[Exeunt.
James Miller [1737], The universal passion. A comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, By His Majesty's Servants (Printed for J. Watts at the Printing-Office in Wild-Court [etc.], London) [word count] [S34700].
