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The Royal Martyr, K. Charles I. An Opera.

By Alexander Fyfe

[No place:] Printed in the year, 1705.



The Earl of ESSEX sitting in a Tent, attended by his Officers.

Essex] HOW great's the Care, the Toil, and lingring Pain,
That racks a General's Breast, and breaks his Brain,
'Twixt Power and Right, the might strugling lyes:
You need Briarius Hands, I Argus Eyes.

[A Courier enters the Tent.

Cour.] The Royal Army march'd with Banners spread,
A harnish'd Gyant, with his sharp'ned Blade,
Led on the Van.-----

[Ruper enters the Tent, and Essex starts up to meet him: They both draw.

Rup.] I, in your Sov'raign Leidge Lord's Name, command
You sheath that Sword, and all this Force disband.

Essex] In that same Name, I, for his Cause appear;
So may it please Your Highness to retire.

Rup.] In Cesar's name, against his own Command?
And for his Right, against his Person stand?

Essex] Do not mistake; I fight not to subdue;
But from malignant Counsel, him rescue:
And can the strictest Loyal Test abide:
His Will, he from the Senate does divide.

Rup.] Why they from him? --------

Essex] ------- No more I will dispute.

Rup.] Now shall the furbisht Steel decide the Doubt.

[They fight; and a Noise of a Battle is heard.

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