 | A Tragedy called All's Lost by Lvst |  |
Actus quartus.
Enter Iulianus with a letter, and Piamentelli.Iul.
That I should ten leagues be in scorne remov'de
From Court unto my countrey house! for what?
Tis very strange; know you the cause?
Pia.
Not I, my Lord.
Iul.
I cry you mercy Sir, and my king mercy,
And I beshrew my thoughts for being troubled.
I know the cause my selfe, his grace is wise,
For seeing me on a Pyramis of honour,
So eye-able to the world, the talking slaves,
The multitude in their loud bellowing voyces,
Might adde so much to me Sir, as might dim
His owne proper glory, for such weake eyes see
The present obiect, nothing to come, or past;
He gives me safety in it, and indeed
Himselfe much worth and honour, for Sir, what honour
Can subiects have, but is their kings owne right,
Due as their Crownes, hees royally wise in't,
I do applaud highly, and obey it.
Pia.
Your prisoners must be sent him too my Lord.
Iul.
Ha? my prisoners? that goes somewhat further,
Sir, I beseech you this day entertaine
Your selfe into our Campe, y'are nobly welcome,
The kings health shall go round the Army too
This very night, we'le answer and confirme
What he commands.
Pia.
To morrow I must returne.
Exit Piam.
Iul.
You shall; meane time I pray be merry with us:
Commanded from the Court! and my prisoners sent for!
Tis strange; oh my forgetfull memory!
I did not aske how my Iacinta far'de:
But she forgets too, mindes not me her father,
We'le mixe 'um both together; but my prisoners!
Serv.
Sir, heres a woman (forcde by some tide of sorrow)
With teares intreats your pitty, and to see you.
Iul.
If any souldier has done violence to her,
Beyond our military discipline,
Death shall divide him from us: Fetch her in.
Exit Servant.
I have my selfe a daughter, — on whose face
But thinking, I must needs be pitifull.
And when I ha told my conquest to my king,
My poore girle then shall know, how for her sake
I did one pious act: is this the creature!
Enter with Iacinta.
Ser.
Yes, my Lord, and a sad one.
Iul.
Leave us: a sad one!
The down-cast looke, calls up compassion in me,
A Coarse going to the grave looks not more deadly,
Why kneelst thou! art thou wrongde by any souldier!
Rise, for this honour is not due to me.
Hast not a tongue to reade thy sorrowes out?
This booke I understand not.
Iacin.
O my deare father!
Iul.
Thy father? who has wrongd him?
Iac.
A great Commander.
Iul.
Vnder me?
Iac.
Above you.
Iul.
Above me? whose above a Generall?
None but the Generall of all Spaines Armies,
And thats the king, king Rodericke; hees all goodnesse.
He cannot wrong thy father.
Iacin.
What was Tarquin?
Iul.
A king, and yet a ravisher.
Iacin.
Such a sinne
Was in those dayes a monster; now tis common.
Prethee be plaine.
Iacin.
Have not you Sir, a daughter?
Iul.
If I have not, I am the wretchedst man
That this day lives: for all the wealth I have
Lives in that childe.
Iacin.
O for your daughters sake then heare my woes.
Iul.
Rise then, and speake 'um.
Iac.
No, let me kneele still,
Such a resemblance of a daughters duty,
Will make you mindfull of a fathers love:
For such my iniuries must exact from you,
A you would for your owne.
Iul.
And so they do,
For whilst I see thee kneeling, I thinke of my Iacinta.
Iac.
Say your Iacinta then (chast as the Rose)
Comming on sweetly in the springing bud,
And ne're felt heat, to spread the Sommer sweet:
But to increase and multiply it more,
Did to it selfe keepe in its owne perfume:
Say that some rapine hand had pluckt the bloome,
Iacinta like that flower, and ravisht her,
Defiling her white lawne of chastity,
With ugly blacks of lust; what would you do?
Iul.
O tis too hard a question to resolve,
Without a solemne Councell held within
Of mans best understanding faculties:
There must be love, and fatherhood, and griefe,
And rage, and many passions, and they must all
Beget a thing call'd vengeance; but they must sit upon't.
Iac.
Say this were done by him that carried
The fairest seeming face of friendship to your selfe.
Iul.
We should fall out.
Iac.
Would you in such a case respect degrees?
Iul.
I know not that.
Iac.
Say he were noble.
Iul.
Impossible: th'acts ignoble; the Bee can breed
No poyson, though it sucke the iuyce of hemlocke.
Iac.
Say a king should doo't? were th'act lesse done
Iul.
Augment it rather.
Iac.
Say then that Rodoricke, your king and Master,
To quit the honours you are bringing home,
Had ravisht your Iacinta.
Iul.
Who has sent
A furie in this fowle-faire shape to vexe me?
I ha seene that face me thinks, yet know it not:
How darest thou speake this treason, gainst my king?
Durst any man ith world, bring me this lye,
By this, had been in hell; Rodoricke a Tarquin?
Iacin.
Yes, and thy daughter (had she done her part)
Should be the second Lucrece: view me well,
I am Iacinta.
Iul.
Ha?
Iac.
The king my ravisher.
Iul.
The king thy ravisher! oh unkingly sound:
He dares not sure, yet in thy sullied eyes
I reade a Tragicke story.
Enter Antonio, Alonzo, Medina.
O noble friends,
Our warres are ended, are they not?
Omn.
They are Sir.
Iul.
But Spaine has now begun a civill warre,
And to confound me onely: see you my daughter?
She sounds the Trumpet, which draws forth my sword
To be revengde.
Alon.
On whom? speake loud your wrongs,
Digest your choller into temperance:
Give your considerate thoughts the upper hand,
In your hot passions, twill asswage the swelling
Of your big heart; if you have iniuries done you,
Revenge them, and we second you.
Iac.
Father, deare father.
Iul.
Daughter, deare daughter.
Iac.
Why do you kneele to me Sir?
To aske thee pardon that I did beget thee,
I brought thee a shame staines all the way
Twixt earth and Acheron: not all the clouds
(The skies large canopy) could they drowne the Seas
With a perpetuall inundation,
Can wash it ever out, leave me I pray.
Falls downe.
Alon.
His fighting passions will be ore anon,
And all will be at peace.
Ant.
Best in thy iudgement,
We wake him with the sight of his won honours:
Call up the army, and let them present
His prisoners to him, such a sight as that
Will brooke no sorrow neare it.
Iul.
Twas a good Doctor that prescrib'de that physick
I'le be your patient Sir, shew me my souldiers,
And my new honours won, I will truly weigh them,
With my full griefes, they may perhaps orecome.
Exit Ant.
Alon.
Why now theres hope of his recovery.
Iul.
Iacinta welcome, thou art my child still,
No forced staine of lust can alienate
Our consanguinitie.
Iac.
Deare Father,
Recollect your noble spirits, conquer griefe,
The manly way: you have brave foes subdued,
Then let no female passions thus orewhelme you.
Iul.
Mistake me not, my childe, I am not mad,
Nor must be idle; for it were more fit,
(If I could purchase more) I had more wit,
To helpe in these designes, I am growne old:
Yet I have found more strength within this arme,
Then without proofe I durst ha boasted on.
Rodericke thou king of monsters couldst thou do this?
And for thy lust confine me from the Court,
Theres reason in thy shame, thou shouldst not see me.
Ha! they come Iacinta, they come, hearke, hearke,
Now thou shalt see what cause I have given my king:
Enter Antonio with the Affrican king, and other Moores prisoners.
So tis well, wondrous well, I have no friends
But these my enemies, yet welcome brave Moores,
With you Ile parley; first I defie you all.
Alon.
How?
Iul.
I am a vowd foe to your King, to Roderique.
Ant.
How Iulianus!
Iul.
Nay we feare you not, here's our whole army;
Yet we are strong enough from feare or flight.
Ant.
Make us understand a reason Iulianus,
If for disloyalty reason may be given
Of this your language.
Iul.
Be you my Iudges whom I make my foes?
Was my power plac't above my mercy, or mercy
Above my power? went they not hand in hand?
Ant.
Ever most nobly.
Alon.
Ever, ever.
Iul.
Why then should Rodorique doe this base deed?
Ant.
You doe distract us Sir, beseech you name it.
Iul.
Behold this child of mine, this onely mine,
I had a daughter, be she is ravisht now.
Omn.
Ravisht?
Iul.
Yes, by Rodorique, by lustfull, tyrant, Rodorique:
Omn.
O most abhorrid deed!
Iul.
Ioyne with me noble Spaniards in Revenge.
Omn.
We will.
Iul.
Have I your hearts?
Omn.
Our lives shall feale it.
Iul.
Then Princely Mulymumen, here I free thee,
And all thy valiant Moores: Wilt thou call back
Thy scattered forces, and incorporate
Their strengths with mine, and with me march through Spaine,
Sharpning thy sword with vengeance for my wrongs?
Moore.
Most willingly, to binde me faster to thee,
Plight me thy ravisht daughter to my wife,
And thou shalt see my indignation fly
On wings of Thunder.
Iacin.
O my second hell,
Iul.
Ile not compell her heart, wooe, win, and wed her:
Forc't has she bin too much,—My honor'd friends,
What We all thought to ha borne home in Triumph,
Must now be seene there in a Funerall,
Wrackt Honour being chiefe Mourner; here's the Herse
Which weele all follow;—Rodorique we come;
To give thy lust a scourge, thy life a doome.
Exeunt.
A bed discovered, on it Lazarello, as Antonio: Enter Margaretta and Fydella with a halter.
Mar.
Sleepes he Fydella?
Fyd.
Slumbringly Madam; hee's not yet in his dead sleepe.
Mar.
Tis now his dying, anon comes his dead sleep.
For never shall he wake, untill the world
Hath Phœnix-like bin hid in his owne ashes,
Fydella, take my strength into thine armes,
And play the cruell executioner,
As I will first instruct thee.
Fyd.
I am so farre
From shrinking, Madam, that Ile gladly be
The Prologue to Antonios Tragedy.
Mar.
Antonios Tragedy! that very Name
Should strike even sparkes of pitty from the flint:
Antonio! husband Antonio.
Fyd.
Remember there's another owes that Name.
Mar.
I, that's the poyson kils me; shall a strumpet
(For shee's no better) rob me of a treasure
So deere to me as he was; yet her I pardon:
The master-thiefe lies here, and he must dye for't:
All mercy hence I banish, Iustice looke downe
To see a womans vengeance; thus I begin,
And follow thus and thus, now I am in,
Nothing shall pull me back.
Laz.
Oh, oh.
Fyd.
He has passage yet for breath.
Here's remedy for that, pull Fydella.
Fyd.
He woud speake it seemes.
Mar.
Never; his tongue betrayd me once, I will
No more listen my temptations; heare he shall
Awhile, and that but deafly: Antonio,
I was your wife, Lordly Antanio,
And in that balance equal'd with your selfe,
I was your handmaid, and you might have trod
On my humility, I had kist your feet,
But with disdaine thou trampledst on my throat,
As I doe now on thine, and will deface
What nature built for honor, not deceit:
Our wedding was in private, so our divorce,
Yet this shall have as fre and open blazon
As a truth-speaking goodnesse; O my Fydella,
Thou little instrument of my revenge,
I woud not have thee (for thy duty) lost,
There's gold, hye thee to safety, fare thee well,
I must nere see thee more, this place will be—
Fyd.
Not too hot for me Madam; my complexion
Is naturall to it: good fortunes follow you;
If I might counsell you, I woud conceale it:
If you can fly, doe not betray your selfe.
Exit.
Mar.
Fy, prethee away, thou wilt marre all the glory,
Conceale the deed? even to the bended brow
Of the sterne Iudge, Ile speake, and call for iustice,
Proud of my glorious vengeance, I will smile
Vpon my dreadfull Executioner:
Twas that was first enacted in my brest,
She shoud not dare to kill, that dares not die,
Tis needy mischiefe, and hee's basely bent
That dares doe ill, yet feare the punishment.
Exeunt.
| A Tragedy called All's Lost by Lvst | |