_Genius._ My Name is secret, I was Tutor to a young Man, and when I corrected him to cure Pride, he resisted and rose up against me, and for that Reason I have left him for a Season. _King._ And will Calamity cure Pride? _Genius._ Behold yon pamper’d high-fed Colt, unoppress’d, at ease, unbroke, he leap’d his Mounds, and sported all abroad; he saw a Lamb, a Nightingale, a Dove; he started, snorted, and bridled with Disdain, with twisted Neck and cocking Tail, with bended Knee he bounds away, disdaining all he sees; but now his Back is stain’d with Saddle-marks, his Mouth is gaul’d with Bridle-bit; and he that despis’d the Lamb, the Dove, the Nightingale before, now is tam’d, and feeding with a Goose and Boar. _King._ Alas! I pity thee; here is all the Money I have, and this Ring; ’twas given me by one I most admire. _Genius._ But why do you give me all? _King._ I am distress’d my self, and design to ask Relief of Heaven. _Genius._ I will speak of thy Generosity, and force my Words to the highest Heaven; Angels will love and long for thy coming on high; rapp’d with thy Fame will wing away, warbling as the Swift, to meet thee in thy flight. [_Ex._ Genius. _King._ From whence this inward Joy, as if the Musick of the Spheres, and heavenly Song, penetrate the Sky, and eccho in my Soul. _Enter_ Officer. _Offic._ I am inform’d from the City, that _Darony_ has taken Possession of all, and is now crown’d, and the People greatly rejoice: _Lomporhomock_ and _Hurlothrumbo_ are come down with an Army of 60000 Men, and threaten in a Moment to destroy you and your Troops. [_Ex._ Officer. _King._ The excessive Storm blows up the Fire of my Soul, and makes me long to fight; every String of my Heart is firm, is stony as the Lion’s Nerve; it rises in my Breast, it leaps, it yearns; Oh great is my Desire! I am all athirst, not for the Blood of my Adversaries, but for the Freedom of my Friends. _Enter_ Officer. _Offic. Theorbeo_ is at the Place of Execution; he desires to be interr’d under his Statue in the Grove, that if you ever come to your Kingdom, you may sometimes walk and think of him. [_Exit_ Officer. _King._ Oh when shall this Dramatick World be done! but yet with me indeed it is. Oh when shall the End of all Things come! When shall the Musick of the Spheres break out! like Trumpets found Alarms, and Thunder in Bases roar? Oh when shall the glittering Crouds of Angels tread the Stages of the Sky, to sing the Chorus at the End of Time! Sing, oh Chant, with Sounds to metamorphose Man; and make me, oh make me any thing but what I am! _Enter_ Officer. _King._ Why do you pause? _Offic._ I fear to speak. _King._ Speak, for I dread not to hear; this Moment I will fight and die with my Army.