University of Virginia Library

Scæna 1.

Mulleasses solus.
Mull.
Eternall substitute to the first that mou'd
And gaue the Chaos forme. Thou at whose nod
Whole Nations stoopt, and hold thee still a God:
Whose holy-customd-ceremonious rites,
Liue vnprophan'd in our posterity:
Thou God of Mecha, mighty Mahomet,
Thus Mulleasses at thy memory
Discends: accept his prone humility,
Great Prophet: let thy influence be free
Vncheckt by danger: mew not vp my soule,
In the pent roome of conscience:
Make me not morall Mahomet, coopt vp
And fettred in the fooles phylosophy,
That points our actions vnto honesty.
Giue my plots fortune: let my hope but touch
The marke I aime at: then the gazing time
Shall in the present hide my former ill
Successe like Iethe to the soules in blisse
Makes men forget things past and crownes our sins
With name of valour, be we impious.
A Scelus felix styles vs vertuous.

Enter Eunuchus.
Eunu.
My honourd Lord:

Mull.
What diuell interrupts in?

Eunu.
My duty.

Mull.
Your duty is too dilligent that dares
Peere into my retreats: now should I kill thee.

Eunu.
The Lord Protector Borgias my maister—

Mull.
Age and diseases breed consumptions
And rot him. What craues he?

Eunu.
Your instant presence.

Mull.
I haue instant businesse whose high import
Detaines my speed: know you the matter?

Eunu.
A tumult 'mongst the fearefull multitude,
Causd by an ominous terrour in the heauens,
Is as I gesse the reason of your want.

Mull.
What heauens? what terror?

Eunu.
The Sun on suddaine feeles a darke ecclipse
And hides his siluer face behinde the moone,
As loath to see some prodegies appeare.

Mull.
Make that ecclipse eternall Mahomet.
Rise, rise ye mistie-footed Iades of night,
Draw your darke mistresse with her sable vayle,
Like a blacke Negro in an Ebone chaire,
Athwart the worlds eie: from your foggy breaths
Hurle an Egiptian grossenes through the ayre,
That none may see my plots: Hast any greater newes?

Eunu.
The daies eyes out, a thousand little starres
Spread like so many torches, about the skye,
Make the world shew like Churches hung with blacke,
And set with tapers at some funerall:
Amongst these starres directly from the East,
A firy meteor points a burning rod
At Florence.

Mulle.
Perhaps tis thirsty for the blood of Princes,
Blase out prodigious starre, and let the fire
Dart soule amazing terror to all eyes:
Be like the Basiliske fatall to behold:
Ile fat the slimy earth more then the plague,
And from her bosome send the blood of Kings
Stild into oyly vapours & borne on high,
To expiate those flames that else would die.

Eunu.
What answere shall I returne vnto my Lord?

Mulle.
That I will see him presently, be gone: Borgias,
Thou art no tutord Pollitition
Exit Eunuc:
To lay another in thy bosome.
Know a state-villaine must be like the winde,
That flies vnseene yet lifts an Ocean,
Into a mountaines height. That on the sands
Whole Nauies may be split in their discent.
I stand aboue thee, and as from a rocke
Whose eminence outswelles the raging flood,
See thy hopes shipwrackt: O credulity,
Securities blinde nurse the dreame of fooles:
The drunkards Ape, that feeling for his way
Euen when he thinkes in his deluded sence,
To snatch at safety, fals without defence.
Twise hath the Nemean Lyon breathd, forth fire,
And made the scalded Dogge-star pant with heate.
T wise the dayes planet through the burning signes
Hurred his fierie chariot since the time
I came to Florence in exchange for Iulia.
The sonne of Borgias here to learne the tongues,
The fashions and the arts of Christendome:
Now by my sly and affable intrusion
I am made intimate with Borgias:
He thinkes my thought are Osiars to be wrought
In any forme: the Dukes (that claimd
The loue of Iulia) he hath deluded
By a fain'd rumour of a suddaine death:
Her he detaines vntill he fits his time
By murder of the Dukes to be secure,
In his owne power to dacke his marriage:
Timoclea his wife (the death of all his plots
If she suruiues) he now beleues is dead
Poysond by me: in liew of which he grants
His daughter Amada to me for wife:
As if my hopes flew not as high as his:
Now to secure my flight and make my wings
Stronger then his that melted in the Sun,
His wife Timoclea liues within this tombe
Made seeming liuelesse by a sleepy iuyce
Infusd in stead of poyson in her cup:
Here I must wake her and in her stir vp
Reuenge gainst Borgias.
Image of death and daughter of the night,
Sister to Lethe all oppressing sleepe,
Thou that amongst a hundred thousand dreames
Crownd with a wreath of mandrakes sitst as Queene,
To whome a million of care-clogged soules,
Lye quaffing iuyce of Poppy at thy feete,
Resigne thy vsurpassion, and dislodge,
Hang on the eyes of sloth and make them sleepe
Whose hearts are heauie, or whose sorrowes weepe,
Giue way to motion: and thou whose blood
Stands in thy full vaines like a charmed floud
Receiue the aire againe: suruiue his hate
That on thy graue againe climbes high to reach his fate.

Timoclea riseth in the tombe.
Timo.
Who speakes so lowd?

Mul.
He that speakes life Timoclea.

Timo.
You wake me.

Mul.
Such power I chalenge Lady in my voice,
To wake you from your graue.

Timo.
Where am I?

Mul.
In your graue.

Timo.
Hah, my graue!

Mul.
Be not amased madame: you are safe.

Timo.
Who speakes vnto me? oh forbeare:
I am not for your presence: see my bed
Lyes much vnseemely: who attends me there?
What meanes this impudent intrusion?

Mul.
Take time to your amazement: know where you are
Tis Mulleasses speakes to you: him you once lou'd:
Tis not now time to feare.

Timo.
I know your face and yet I feare my being
Giues cause of feare.

Mul.
Giue your selfe, to me and on those rites
Due to the sweets of loue, here is no daunger.

Timo.
Accept me in your armes.

Mul.
See where you are, know you this place?

Timo.
Some Church I thinke.

Mul.
And these the Tropheyes of your Ancestours.
This is the buriall common to your blood.

Timo.
Oh free me from amazement, what strange accident
Brought me so neere my death? I am now my selfe
And truely capable of a discourse.

Mul.
Then know madame your life hath bene pursued,
And my selfe brib'd to be your poisoner,
But that my loue turnd death vnto a sleepe,
And brought you thus aliue vnto your graue:

Timo.
Say on my deerest Lord, who brib'd thy loue?
What barbarisme, or what desert of mine
Mou'd this attempt against my life?

Mul.
My soule durst iustifie your innocence,
But that desease that bred in Paradise,
Swels like the Presters poison in our vaines
(To which al men are heirs ambition)
Desire to be like God: t'was that corruption
Gaue me occasion thus to shew my loue
On your liues safety:

Timo.
My loue and life are thine: speake openly,
What brest could be so cruelly ambitious?
Whose honor or whose fortunes could my life
Ecclipse or darken?

Mul:
First madame you must sweare,
By life, by loue, and by that happinesse
Your soule assures you in the faith you hold
With me, this night to prosecute reuenge
On your liues enemy.

Timo.
By life, by loue and by that happinesse,
My soule assures me in the faith I hold,
By that which binds me more—by this
kisse him,
I sweare this night to prosecute reuenge
On my liues enemie.

Mul.
Enough: thy resolution like a fire,
Makes my warme blood boyle: Borgias.

Timo.
My husband.

Mul.
Your husband: start not Lady,
Twas he that by a promise of your daughter
The fairest Amada to me for wife
Made my tongue say, that I would poyson you:
Silence deere Lady: choke all passion,
And feminine complaints in thoughts of vengance.
Forget you are a woman: and be like your wrongs
Full swolne with death: let your inuentiue braines
Carry more fate in their conception,
Then Hecubas wombe to Troy: my plots are yours,
Are you reuengefull?

Timo.
As full as Iealousie: or the wife of Iason
Rob'd by the faire Corinthian of her loue.

Mul.
Then thus we seale our resolution—
kisse
Thus I ascend, and from proud Fortunes wheele,
Pull my owne fate: forgiuenes Mahomet
My hopes make me prophane; and my proud thoughts
Vsurpe aboue thy greatnesse; Apprehension?
Thou that giuest foode vnto the soule of man,
The best companion to relieue the minde.
What sweete suggestions of my future blisse
Haue I from thee? O I am transported
Beyond the power of reason! the present time
Craues a more sober temper. Madam this disguise
Must carry you vnknowne vnto my chamber
Where we haue much to do: release your thoughts,
Giue freedome to those faculties of nature,
That made your sexe first dare to reach at pleasure.
Be proud and lustfull, let ambition sway
‘The power of action in you: murder and blood
‘Are the two pillars of a States-mans good.

Exeunt.