 | The Tvrke |  |
Mulleasses the Turke,
Actus primi.
Scæna prima.
Enter aloft Iulia, and Amada.Iul.
How sweet are things knowne in their contraries
When onely apprehension, and sicke thoughts
Foster a gredy longing Amada?
A.
Madame you breath: no couetous hand
Takes the aire from you: no contrariety
Bandy's against your rest: as I am modest,
My fathers seeming harsh vngentlenesse
Is but a misty pollicy, to be guile some time.
Then be your selfe and Iomiall:
Iul.
Yet why should I repine,
At this my foret restraint of libertie?
Our life is but a sayling to our death,
Through the worlds Ocean: it makes no matter then
Whether we put into the worlds vast Sea,
Shipt in a Pinasse or an Argosy:
Amad.
No Matter: when we hope for change of vessels Ladye
And in that hope beguile your passions:
Giue your sight freedome o're the citty walls
And see what worthie obiects meete your eyes:
See where two Dukes, each like a god of warre,
Lye both entrench't against the gates of Florence
To gaine your loue: on the west side, ther's
Ferrara hangs his scarlet ensignes foorth
And wooes in blood: then from the East behould
Burnes the Venitians loue: the morning Sun
Courts not the world more amorously: he as mild
As Mirrhas boye doth proue that lou's a childe,
Not techy if not wrongd. The other like Mars
Hemms in his Venus in his armes of steele.
Enter the Duke of Ferrara at one doore and the Duke of Venice at another doore and meete at the midst of the stage.
And vowes a conquest: Se where they appeere:
Madame your loue, which hand for a Dukedome?
Were I an Orator I could praise Ferrara,
He like the marble statue of some God,
Carryes commaund in his proportion,
In him loue seemes a warrior for the fire,
Of best affection burnes in hot desire.
Iul.
And yet me thinkes the smooth Venitian
Should more content a Venus:
In him loue seemeth as he is, calme and mild,
Pleasing and sportfull: things rough and violent
Dye like abortiue fruit before perfection.
Th'are pursy and short breathd: th'ardor of true loue
Burns in a calme breast: in him affections
Are not like tempests raging: yet of force
Like an euen gale of wind to beare loues ship
Vnto the port of happinesse: his fire
Burns, and consumes not, but maintaine desire.
Ven.
Giue o're my claime: that should argue,
A too cold temperature in loue: besies
It would disable the Venetian power
Not to make good his chalenge: I dare not.
Ferr.
Why she is mine by promise.
Ven.
I grant, that Borgias her Vncle and Protector
Promisd you that which he cannot performe.
And growes vpon the promise of the State,
I by the Senate was assur'd her loue,
And on that ground the justice of my cause
Pleads. Thus in armes against the citty walls.
Ferr.
Herein you erre: for know the Florentine
Dying a Prince powerfull and absolute
(Not countermanded by a popular voice
Or by th'ambitious factions of a Senate)
Leaues the Protector in his daughters nonage
Free like himselfe, and absolute: of power
To promise and performe: on his assurance
Liues my loues right: then were you both
Direct opposers of what I clayme, by heauen
And by that influence that made me great
I would persue my chalenge through your bloods.
Uen.
Giue not such passage to your heat my Lord
Ferr:
Then giue my power a passage to my Loue:
Ven:
That I demaund of you.
Ferr:
And I command:
That without stay you raise your powers
And leaue this citties siedge vnto our armes,
Or what we aimd at them we'le turne on you.
Ven.
Although your powre we're equall with your pride
I would dare stay Ferrara, and proclaime
Thy title weake, thy claime litigious:
Mine onely iust, apparant, righteous.
Yet let not fury so empeach our wisdomes
To iarre for her another doth possesse,
And make our follies laughter to our foes:
Will then Ferrara make his passions subiect
To an indifferency that I shall propound?
Fer.
If the indifferency you shall propound
Deuides not me from Iulia:
Uen.
She's the maine claime of both our armed loues.
Fer.
And with out her ther's no indifferency.
Y'are friuolous:
Why know Ferrara, thy prerogatiue
Extends no further then thy sword can reach:
Then when thy conquests hath confirmd thy will
Thou maist capitulate with rude commaunds,
Till when proud Prince, stoupe at imperious chance:
For did no other title then my sword
Make my claime righteous: yet the doubtfull lot
Cast on the ends of warre, carries my fate
Euen with thy pride: the Lady as mine owne
To shewe an eminence that o're lookes thy hope,
I chalendge and auerre the right of warre
Due to my sword.
Ferr.
Vnsheath it then.
Ven.
Yes at thy bosome.
Sound Cornets: they stay.
Fer.
What meanes this suddaine parley from the walls?
Iul.
What are the Dukes at oddes?
Am.
Harke Madam from the walls—
Sound againe.
A suddaine parley speakes vnto the Dukes
Iul.
Was that that staid their swords.
Amad.
I would faine haue seene,
how like Esops warriour they could haue fought,
For that a third carries away.
Some new deuise of pollicy hath causd
This vnexpected change: not long since
It was resolu'd in councell to maintaine
The siege against the hottest opposition.
Iul.
Did I not thinke my fortunes ebbe at lowest?
It might amaze me.
Amad.
My libertie
May soone giue notice to you: then lets away:
A Sunne may rise to mak't a happy day.
Exeunt.
Ven.
To whome speakes Borgias?
Bor.
Dukes to you both.
The present and vnlookt for cause of griefe,
That now hath tooke possession on our breasts,
Cuts of the feeling of all outward feare:
Our priuate griefes were desperate: did there not
A pubike care of others burden vs
We thinke you wrongd, I and the Senate heere,
Causes of both the nonsuites of your loues,
Appeale vnto remission.
Fer.
But whether bends your far-fetcht Oratory?
Restore the Lady vnto me: and on my honours pawne
Ile free your Citty from the armes of Venice.
Ven.
Senate, and you on whose authority,
And pawne of honor I engagde my loue,
Slau'd my affections, and did prostitute
The freedome of my soule to Iulia:
Sleight not your wisedomes and your worths in counsel,
To serue the ends of hidden pollicy:
Make good your words engagde, and as I liue
A Prince vnstainde in honor, I will free
Your Citty from Ferraras hottest fury.
Borg.
Alas my gratious and renowned Lords,
I grieue to see your passions,
Emptied of th'obiects that they wrought vpon:
I am the Embassador of heauy newes,
To you I am sure as heauy as to vs.
Ven.
Speake it.
Borg.
O it doth presse the Organs of my speech,
And like a lethargie doth numbe those motions
should giue it vtterance.
Ferra.
Hold the Protector there from falling.
The Camel else will sinke downe vnder it.
Borg.
Scoffe not my gratious Prince: the griefe I see
Will be as heauy on thy now light head,
As tis on mine: the Lady whome you loue—
Ferr.
Why what of her?
Ven.
Where is she? speake:
Borg.
Singing with Angels in the quire of heauen,
The Requiem of Saints.
Ferr.
Shee's dead!
Ven.
Shee's dead!
Borg.
I Lords vnto your loues.
Ven.
O my Loues hard fate.
Ferr.
Dead!
Borg.
And now my Lords, seeing that she is dead,
For whome you raisd these armes against our walls,
I hope your furious angers liue no longer.
Ferr.
We are appeasd: Uenice I thus salute thee,
and reconcile my fury in thy armes.
S'death dead?
Ven.
Discend Protector, with her our armes are dead.
Ferr.
I am amazd: possesse me patience,
Discend.
Credulity Ferrara is a vertue,
I beleeue it: Borgias: oh my spleene,
That he should thinke me so rediculous,
To fasten any faith on pollicy,
The stateliest generall prop is iealousie,
On all men & their actions: I know it not.
Ven.
Should I thinke her murdred, or that she still doth liue?
And feede some hope by deeming him a villaine,
That sooths this sorrowfull newes into our eares?
I might herein seeme polliticke, and nurse
Some mischiefe in my bosome for reuenge,
Of that wherein I but suspect a wrong.
The trickes of State-moules that worke vnder Princes,
Are at the best, but like the vipers young,
To many open and secure passengers,
Yet do they neuer liue: without the death
Of him that first gaue motion to their breath.
This keepes me honest still, the heauens and fate
Are the best guardians to a wronged state.
A short flourish.
Enter Borgias and the Senate.
Borg.
Laying aside all feare of what you may,
Thus to your powers we do expose our liues,
Your wrongs we do confesse might speake reuenge,
Did not this flood of sudden griefe, take vp
All passion in it selfe: speake mighty Dukes,
Liues Florence in your loues? with Iulias death
Dies the memoriall of your former wrongs?
Ven.
I forget them all.
Ferr.
I take no pleasure in reuenge.
Borg.
Then are our Citty gates ope to your loues,
And beg a fauour due vnto the dead:
This night the funerall hearse of Iulia,
(I know that name is deere vnto you both)
Returnes againe to her creation.
This night the rauenous mother of the world,
(The all corrupting earth that eats her yong)
Swalloweth the body of your Iulia.
This night she takes a farwell of vs all:
Then let it be a witnesse of your loues,
To giue her hearse an honor with your presence.
Ferr.
Should we not graunt this, we might be taxt
Of much dishonor.
Uen.
I were not worthy that it should be said
I leuyed armes for loue of Iulia,
Should I deny my presence at her hearse.
Borg.
My loue, the neere alliance to her blood,
Whose loue committed her vnto my care,
Makes me accept this honor done to me:
And I stand bound in bonds of gratitude
To both your princely worths: in lieu of which,
Let my emboldned weaknesse mighty Lords,
Presume t'inuite you to a funerall supper,
A banquet forc'd by ceremonius custome,
As a due obsequy.
Ven.
The loue of Iulia
Exacts from me all rights of custome.
Ferr.
I yeelde my presence.
Borg.
Your guards shall be my honor for this night,
Your seuerall armies during your stay in Florence,
Shall be maintained at our Cities charge,
In recompence of loue to Iulia.
Ten.
We thanke you.
Fer.
We thanke yous
Borg.
Nor giue we expectation of proud pompe,
Of shewes, or Pageants, for your entertainment:
Our bels ring forth our sorrowes in sad peales,
No pleasant changes to giue Princes welcome,
Our Churches stand not garnished with pictures,
To please deuoted superstition with,
But mourne in blacke. Our Church men
Leaue their chaunting Antheams, & their daily Masse,
To sing continuall requiems to her soule.
Sorrow sits sad and weeping in our streetes,
All eies are wet with teares, saue those where griefe
Hath dryed all moysture vp. Our sucking infants
Are pale and leane with hanging on the breasts,
Of griefe-spent mothers: If these may welcome you,
Wee'le giue you prodigall welcome to our Citty.
Ven.
Such welcome fits the death of Iulia.
Ferr.
So should all mourne and weepe for Iulia.
Borg.
So doe we mourne and weepe for Iulia.
Griefe is a Tortoyse to the nimble sence,
And chils their motions, the officers of loue,
Liue at our funerall, and in death do moue.
Exeunt.
Scæna secunda.
Enter Amada & Eunuchus.Ama.
Eunuchus?
Eunu.
Madam.
Ama.
What solemnity is that the Citty celebrates?
Eunu.
The Dukes of Venice and Ferrara,
Are with your father entred the wals
Vnto the funerals of Iulia.
Ama.
Why, is Iulia dead?
Eunu.
I hope your Ladiship—
Ama.
I cry thee mercy: the remembrance of her
Makes me still thinke she liues.
And thats the cause they parleyed on the wals.
Eunu.
True Madam.
Ama.
Remoue a while.
Eunu.
At your seruice Lady.
stand aside.
Ama.
Iulia giuen out for dead,
And liue in durance at my fathers will?
Tis strange: the Dukes inuited to her fuunerall.
More mists of pollicy? O simplicity!
The clue of reason cannot guid the fate,
Of this Dedalion maze: wer't not prophane
In me to question nature for my birth,
And quarrell with my starres for being daughter
To him whome I suspect to be a villaine:
Some inspiration of religious thoughts,
Make nature lesse in me, and beare my duty
Euen with his awe whose vncontrould commaund,
Frees our obedience from our impious parents.
That I should keepe faire Iulia: I am her Iaylor,
To whome, both he and I do owe alleagiance.
Distracted duty, how should I bestow thee?
On the right owner, Iustice I adore thee.
Enter Borgias.
Borg.
Amada.
Ama.
My loue and duty.
Borg.
Alone?
Ama.
My mothers Eunuch:
Borg.
How fares Iulia?
Ama.
Liues as you cōmanded, vnseene & priuate.
Burg.
Thy mothers dead.
Ama.
Defend it heauens!
Borg.
Dead: no more: Eunuchus?
Eunu.
My loue and seruice.
Borg.
You gaue it out last night as I commaunded
Timoclea my wife was sicke.
Eunu.
I did and't like your grace.
Borg.
When sets the Sunne?
Eunu.
Some six houres hence.
Borg.
To night wilbe to soone: to morrow morning
Rumour't about the Citty, my wife is dead,
Say abroad she is dead.
Eunu.
It shall be done.
Borg.
So shall thy duty keepe me bound to thee.
Amada: some thing more I haue to say,
Prepare for marriage.
Ama.
For marriage?
Borg.
Question me not, thou must be married,
Mulleasses is thy husband, my word hath seald it,
Be still my Argus, and keepe Iulia.
Death to my soule! Eunuchus
Canst thou vnknowne (to any saue thy selfe)
Poyson a groome to stuffe a coffen with?
Eunu.
I can to please your Lordship:
O thou shalt please vs highly! I haue great vse
Of such a thing, I prethee do it:
My wife last night was poysoned, her body
The world beleeues is Iulias, supposed dead.
Now for the second funerall of my wife.
Her coffin must be fild vp with some slaue,
He shall be honord princely to his graue.
The funerall staies my presence: Amada
See to my Iulia, if Mulleasses moue,
Be kinde and gentle to his proffered loue.
Exit Borgiæs.
Ama.
Heere's a distracted laborinth of wit,
Iulia aliue, and yet her funeral kept:
My mother dead and neuer Sicke: tis true:
To many, death is suddaine and vnlookt for:
So't was to her: and in the midst of death,
I must be married: death take me to,
Let me not liue to see those tapers burne,
That leade me to his bed: where's sanctity?
Religion is the fooles bridle, worne by pollicy:
As horse weare trappers to seeme faire in shew,
And make the worldes eye dote on what we seeme.
Be silent yet for duty stops thy mouth,
Ile in to Iulia, 'tis she and I,
That must be Chorus in this Tragedy.
Exit Amada.
Eunu.
Howso'ere my fortunes make me now a slaue
I was a free borne Christians sonne in Cyprus,
When Famagusta by the Turke was sackt:
In the deuision of which Citty spoyles,
My fortunes fell to Mulleasses lot:
Nor was it Tyranny inough that I was Captiue,
My parents robd of me, and I of them,
But they wrongd nature in me, made me an Eunuch,
Disabled of those masculine functions,
Due from our sex: and thus subiected,
These sixteene yeares vnto the vilde commaund,
Of an imperious Turke, I now am giuen
Vnto Timoclea, the wife of Borgias,
Whose priuate mixtures I am guilty of:
Betwixt these three I stand as in a maze,
In eg'd to al their sinnes, and made a baud
To lust and murder: Mulleasses first
Giues me vnto Timoclea, that without suspect
I might procure their loues security;
For which they promise me my liberty.
But Borgias whether iealous of his wife,
Or reaching at some further pollicy,
Bindes me with golden offers to his trust,
And first comaunds me rumour it abroad
Timoclea his wife was sicke, when at that instant
She was in health and dauncing with her Turke.
Now I must second that report with death,
And say abroad Timoclea is dead:
Shortwarning for a iourney vnto heauen:
But (which amazeth most) I must prouide
The body of some groome to stop a coffin with.
This is a riddle of some Sphinx, let Oedipus
Vnfold the meaning: I leaue it to th'euent,
And thinke most safety in not knowing it.
I must prouide some groome, thats my commaund.
Prosper me Saturne, and those starres of sinne,
Whose influence makes villaines fortunate
“He kils by law that kils men for a state.
Enter Bordello & Pantofle his Page.
But who comes heere? oh my spruce he—letcher
That makes his boye saue him the charges of a bawdy house,
Fore Mahomet an excellent fellow for my Lords coffin:
Assist me power of wit.
Bord.
Pantofle.
At your pleasure sir?
Bord.
Thou hast bene at my pleasure indeed Pantofle, I will
retreate into the country, hate this amourous, Court and betake
my selfe to obscurity; I tel thee boye I wil returne by this Circyan
Isle without transformation since Hebe hath discouered her secrets
I will turne Iupiter, hate the whole sexe of women, and onely
embrace thee my Ganimede.
Pan.
Sfoot sir you are as passionate for the disloyalty of your
Sempstresse as some needy knight would be for the losse of some
rich magnificos widdow: doe you not see how the supporters of
the Court, the Lady of the labby gape after your good parts like
so many grigges after fresh water, and can you withhold the dew
of your moyster element?
Bord.
I tel thee should the Lady Iulia when she was aliue haue
profered me her cheeke to kisse, I would not haue bowed to that
painted image for her whole Dukedome: Mercury had no good
aspect in the horoscope of my natiuity: women and lotium are
reciprocall, their sauour is noysome.
Eun.
Why her's a slaue in folio will seeme to slight the loue of
a Princesse, when he would willingly spend his talent on an oyster
wise.
Bord.
Sirra Pantofle trusse vp my wardrobe: but withal publish
my departure, I would willingly put my creditors to the chardge
of garding me out of towne.
Pan.
It will much scandalize your reputation for to depart
indebted: you will be cursed heauily.
Bord.
To depart indebted boy, is the onely way to be praid for,
seeing they knowe it is my prosperity and welfare that must
make them satisfaction.
Eunu.
Before heauen an excellent reason.
Pant.
Pray Sir make euen with your Taylor, he is
poore.
Bord.
Most willingly, for I am not possest of a pennikin, and
if he be not before with me, I take it we are euen, and may walke
in campage. Pantofle vanish.
I goe Sir.
Eunc.
I haue it, thankes sweete Thalia, thou hast begot a
child of mirth in my braine, I will put it to this creature of Florence
to nurse: Saucy Seignior.
Bord.
Eunuchus, Venus restore thee to thy generation: what
doings are now in your quarters?
Eun.
Doings: in faith courtly and weake: Cupid helpe the
poore Ladyes.
Bord.
you are aboue me, I meane not their ingenys or vpper
galleries:
Eun.
Nor I neither: and yet I speake of their vnderstandings,
which by reason of a generall spring, halt and debility in their
hamms (heauens know) are most falteringly feeble: but to present
the message I am sent for: to your worthiest self, from my Lady
and mistresse the protectors wife: you are intelligent?
Bord.
The beauteous Timoclea.
Eun.
Heauens grant she may haue the vertue of attraction:
for she hath laid open, the luster of her best parts to your grace
Sir: nay make not retreate Sir: she knowes you disdaine her
loue.
Bord.
The truth is I am earthly, and like not to participate
with the element of the fire: good Eunuchus commend me to your
Lady, and tell her by importuning my affection, she seekes the
fall of an innocent.
Eun.
True Sir, but with a firme beliefe of your rising againe.
Bord.
I see no hope of it.
Eun.
The harder is her fortune: but heare me, me thinkes
reward should pricke you on with more courage, to such an honorable
encounter.
Bord.
Faith Eunuche I haue made a vow not to vncase my selfe
to any of that sexe.
Eun.
It may be you grounded your oath vpon the vncleanes
of your shirt.
Bord.
Verily since the relapse of my Sempstresse, I haue not
Eun.
Sfoot I thought some foule cause or other, interposed it
selfe twixt you and my Lady: But sir, Ile see all wants supplyed,
thy debts satisfied, thy fortunes eternally mounted: onely bee
tractable to my poore loue-sicke Lady and mistresse, iust and louing.
Bord.
As I am, so fates assist me: and Eunuchus here's my hand
thou shalt haue ample share in my fortunes.
Eun.
By this hand sir but I will not: doe not faile sir at eight
of the clocke to meete me here, where Ile deliuer you the key of
my Ladyes chamber: with further instructions in the businesse,
and with assurednesse of preferment and promotion.
Bord.
Deere Eunuch let me hugge thee: how I long to manifest
thy seruice to my Lady Timoclea.
Eun.
My hand and promise for it.
Bord.
It shall suffice.
By women man first fell, by them Ile rise.
Exit.
Eun.
Ha ha ha: Protector, here's a slaue
Shall stuffe thy coffin: him thou shalt sacrifice
Vnto Timocleas ghost, whose humerous soule
Shall in his passage ouer Acheron
Make Charon laugh, and the sterne judge of hell
Smile at his folly: this is the fatall key
Conducts him to those shades by Borgias hand.
Thus fooles must fall, that wise men firme may stand.
Scæna. 3.
Enter a Frier, after him a funerall in white, and bearers in white, after them Borgias; then the two Dukes, after them the Senate. &c.A solemne march.
Bor.
Set downe that heauy load of misery,
O would the easing you, might ease my heart!
The grauity of age to let some teares
Fall at thy funerall: true relique of that loue
I did inherit from thy fathers mouth,
When to my charge he left his heire and Dukedome
In thee I am depriu'd of all that honour
I should haue purchac'd by that thankefull care
Was due vnto thy fathers memory:
Did not my griefe load all my powers of speech,
Oh I could spend my age in commenting
Of those true vertues dyed with him and thee,
But sorrow shuts my brest: Frier, thine office.
Fry.
By that great power is giuen to mee
The gates of heauen I ope to thee,
When mongst the Angels thou shalt sing
The song of Saints before a King,
That sits for euer on his throane,
And giueth light to euery one:
To him thy soule we doe bequeath,
Thy body to the earth beneath:
And so we close thy tombe againe,
And pray thy soule be free from paine.
Uen.
Looke from thy holy mansion sacred maid
And see how prostrate I adore thy blisse:
These armes in hope of conquest of thy loue
That rould themselues in steele, shall claspe the aire,
And in their empty foldings liue still barren
Of all the comfort my youths hope did promise.
And since thy death takes my loues ioy from me,
Ile die a virgin-Saint and liue with thee.
Fer.
I cannot vent my brest in loue sicke tearmes,
Nor call to record all the gods of loue
For my integrity: nor prostitute,
An oyly passion curiously composd
Of riming numbers at my mistres hearse:
Or tell her dead truncke my true loue in vearse:
To say I loud her is Ferraraes pride.
Borg.
My honour, and that weake abillity
Our state affoords, to doe your graces seruice,
Lies at your princely feete, for this your loue
Done to the dead: now is Iulia shut
For euer from your eyes: saue that she liues
Like a pure relique of some holy Saint,
Shrind in our breasts for euer: let me now renew
My first request, to sup with vs to night,
A ceremony due at funerals.
So shall you double honour vnto me,
In doing double honour vnto her.
Ven.
Ile do all honour both to her and you.
Ferr.
Ile breake no custome.
Borg.
I humbly thanke your graces, please you lead?
Heere liues a lasting memory of the dead.
Exeunt.
A solemne marth.
Manet Borgias
Thus far my pioning pollicies run euen,
And leuell with my aymes: Iulia liues,
And in her hearse Timoclea my wife,
Deludes the credulous Dukes: poysoned last night
By Mulleasses, to make way for me,
To marry Iulia my brothers daughter,
For which the Cardinall of Aniou my kinsman
Sollicites daily with his holinesse,
For dispensation with our bloods alliance:
As for these weake men, whose pursuits in loue,
Dies with my strong auerring of her death,
I can commaund their liues: and then maintaine
My actions with the sword: for which the Turke
By Mulleasses made vnto my purpose,
Offers me forty thousand Ianisaries
To be my guard, gainst forraigne outrages:
And more: hee'le make me king of Italy,
And land his force on this side Christendome
And I will do it: on my faith to God
And loyalty I owe vnto the starres,
Should there depend all Europe and the states
Christened thereon: Ide sinke them all,
To gaine those ends I haue proposd my aimes,
Religion (thou that ridst the backes of Slaues
Into weake mindes insinuating feare
And superstitious cowardnesse) thou robst
Man of his chiefe blisse by bewitching reason.
Nature at these my browes bend: thy mysteries
Wrought by thine owne hands in our actiue braines,
Giue vs the vse of good: thou art my God,
If what I haue of thee, or wit or art,
Or Serpent sliding through the mindes of men,
Cunning confusion of all obstacles,
Be they my childrens liues, my deerest friends
May gaine me what I wish, I stoope at thy renowne
And thinke al's vacuum aboue a crowne,
For they that haue the soueraignty of things,
Do know no God at all, are none but Kings.
Exit.
Finis Actus Primi.
| The Tvrke | |