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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.
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