University of Virginia Library

ACTVS SECVNDVS

SCENA PRIMA.

Isabella, Clarina, In a Chamber.
Isabella.
Who enters there?

Clarina.
Madame, it is Valerio,
Who from the Duke Discourseth with your Father

Isabella.
What pressing busines might bring him here?

Clarina.
To tell you, I should be a Prophetesse.

Isabella.
A message at this hower's not ordinarie.

Clarina.
It doth appeare as strang to me, as you.

Isabella.
Let us expect the issue on't, and change
Discourse.

Clarina.
You faine would have me speak of Carlos;
Madame, confesse it.

Isabella.
I cannot deny
But I am pleased, when I heare him praysd.

Clarina.
I should not be in my right sense if I
Should speake ill of him, he is a brave man,
And of a Liberall and obliging nature,
He merits much.

Isabella.
But in what manner did he entertaine
Th'intelligence thou gav'st him that my humour
Towards him was inclined to more sweetnes,
And rhat my heart at last dispos'd it selfe.
To love him?

Clarina.
With transports, and extasies,
Which cannot be express'd.

Isabella.
Hast thou bene eareful
To tell him cunninglie, according to
Those rules I gave thee, that to doe him service
Thou didst betray thy Mistresse, and gav'st him
That notice without my consent?

Clarina.
Yes, Madame
I tould him so, and verie handsomlie;
But your strang love surpriseth me, you feare
that he should know it, and yet tell it him:
If he lesse knew it, would you be more pleas'd?
What humourous fancies are in Lovers spirits?

Isabella.
Though I love Carlos, (be it reason, or
Fancie that guides me) I believe I doe
My selfe wrong, when I doe justice to him;
The bashfulnes which Heaven hath put into
Our Sex, forbids us to be free in what
Concernes the point of love, nor must we think
any thing lawfull in relation to't:
And by that power, which I know not my selfe,
I cannot without blushing say, I love:
It seemeth that our eyes made to tame hearts,
When those that were our captives doe become
Our conquerours, although they finde the dart
Lovely and charming that subjected us,
Cannot without some shame, behould this change
The art to despise love, my heart no longer
Can practise, but o Heaven! whom see I Carlos?
So late here in my chamber.

SCENA SECUNDA.

Carlos, Isabella, Clarina.
Carlos.
Pardon me
This bold intrusion, seeing the dore open,
I could not but lay hould of the occasion;
And following my love, I thought I might
With out offending you with disrespect
Enter, to cast my selfe at your faire feet.

Isabella.
How fancie you that I can be so little
Respectfull of my honour, as to suffer
A vissit from you without being offended?
No, Sir, your hope deceives you, and this libertie
You take, denoteth in you little love,
Or too much Vanitie: can I believe
You love me well, in giving to your selfe
A licence thus to make foule-mouth'd detraction
In veigh against me, or can you imagine,
Without great follie in your selfe, that I
Can approve this designe so little modest,
And not b'offended at it?

Carlos.
Though I can
Produce some reason here for my defence,
I hould me criminall, since I offend you,
And should but little profit to persist
In the opinion of my innocence
When your faire mouth condemnes me,

Isabella.
I condemne you,
Tis very true, and for your punishment
I bannish you; you must goe forth.

Carlos.
I dare not
Appeale upon your sentence, but retire;
I obey with regreet, but without murmur.

Isabella.
How Sir, begone so soone, what motives pray you,
Induce you thereunto?

Carlos.
Since you ordaine it
I must depart, tis fitt that I obey you.

Isabella.
I should think, Carlos, that you obey here
Some what too quickly for a perfect Lover:
Believing that you lov'd me, I appear'd
Too proud, and scornefull: t'is an assur'd maxime,
That one loves coldly what he quitteth easily;
Love is but il expressed by respects;
Who readilie obeyes, knowes not to love

Carlos.
I am astonished at this discourse;
Can you Complaine, I quit you, Isabella,
When I obey you gainst my sentiment
When my love glittereth in my submission,
And when by a kinde heat, which is not common,
My happines displeaseth me, when it
Offendeth you? what would you then have faid,
If seeking onelie my owne satisfaction,
I had preferred my desires and wishes
Before yours? in what manner can I please you,
If in obeying you, I anger you?

Isabella.
Yon argue too well for a man in love.
VVhere love is strong, reason is impotent;
The one can't be establish'd, whilst the other
Subsists; sometimes a mayd would be resisted,
And obstinatelie lov'd gainst her consent;
And as her close desires are verie seldome
Express'd, she often speaketh with intent
To meet a contradiction, and to be
Enforced unto that which she desires:
According to this maxime, possibly,
I have on this occasion discours'd
Contrarie to my sentiment, and perhaps,
I should be so farre from believing me
Injur'd thereby, that you would have oblig'd me,
In not obeying me.

Carlos.
I'm rap'd in pleasant wonder, if those words
Astonish me, they charme me more; if I
Must stay to please you, nothing is more easie,
Then to content you fully in that point:
Seeing obedience is not pleasing to you;
I will stay, Madame, and will not obey.

Isabella.
It is too late; be gone, my mind is chang'd;
Occasion is lost assoone as' pass'd;
You would have too much pride, and I should have
Too little, if after such a confession
I should detaine you here.

Carlos.
This order is
Severe and rigourous.

Isabella.
But it is just:
I love not alwaies to be disobey'd.
Follow Clarina, goe, and have a care
You be not seen. O Heaven! I heare my Father.

Clarina.
Alas! we are undone; perhaps, he doubted
Of your intelligence, enter forthwith
Into this closet.

SCENA TERTIA.

Alphonso, Clarina, Isabella.
Alphonso.
Oh Daughter, daughter!

Isabella,
He appeareth furious.
—aside.
I read my sad misfortune in his eyes.

Alphonso.
Can I live after such high injuries?

Isabella.
What is the Matter, Sir?

Alphonso.
How! demandest thou?
Dost thou not plainelie see in the excesse
Of my quick griefes, that I am burthered with
The greatest of misfortunes?

Isabella.
What misfortune.
Oh! Father?

Alphonso.
Isabella, Isabella,
I must no more be called by that name.

Isabella.
I feign'd in vaine, tis best to confesse all.

Alphonso.
O fatall chang, Heaven, who could 'er have thought it?

Isabella.
Sir, I beseech you, heare me

Alphonso.
What would'st thou
That I should beare, I know now but to well
What that love costeth me which taketh pleasure
In blood and teares, and hideth deadlie poisons,
When it shewes flowers.

Isabella.
I confesse—

Alphonso.
Oh how often.
Our expectations are deceiv'd, in'wishing
Children, we wish troubles, and punishments.

Isab.
If his death

Alph.
Yes, his death is certaine,

Isabella.
Suffer
That by my teares—

Alphonso.
Thou sheddest them in vaine.

Isabella.
Father, revenge is easie.

Alphonso.
But alas?
What should I enterprise against the Duke?

Isabella.
The Duke? What say you?

Alphonso.
Art thou ignorant,
That my sonne by his order receiv'd death?

Isabella.
I know it not; oh miserable destinie?

Alphonso.
Valerio from him brought me the sad newes,
And would enforce me to agree with him,
That he in killing him did not unjustly:

Isabella.
What crueltie is this? wast not ynough,
Through an unjust and barbarous constraint,
To forbid you a just revenge, but even
To complaine of the injurie?

Alphonso.
True, Daughter;
To punish yet my sonne after his death,
They will I understand it, and not murmur:
It seemes they have a minde, that I should goe
To kisse the hand that murthets me, as being
Stained, and smoaking yet writh my sonnes blood.

Isabella.
But Sir, consider in this sad conjuncture,
That my deare Brothers body doth expect
Interment.

Alphonso.
Yes, I have tooke care for that,
By order from me it is to be brought
To this apartement.

SCENA QUINTA.

Licastes, Alphonso, Isabella. Clarina.
Licastes.
The death, Sir, of your sonne is but to certaine
W'ave brought his body into the next chāber.
Some little distance from this place we found it
Stript, and so much disfigured with wounds,
That we should not have judg'd it to be his,
If seeking carefully we had not found
His coate not farre of, and a little further
His hatt: The thing which troubleth me most
In this misfortune is, that having made
A fruitles search all over for the rest
Of his habillements, I could not finde
Any one of them, and can not imagine
Who should have tane them thence.

Alphonso.
Vnhappie Sonne
Of an unfortunate Father!

Licastes.
Sir, you may
From hence see this sad object, if you please
To cause that curtaine to be drawn aside.

aside
Alphonso.
Draw it, Licastes, let me see my sorrow;
We would be private, everie one retire.
The curtaine is drawne, and he sees upon a bed a murthered body.
I cannot in this Lamentable object
Discerne one feature of my Sonne, and scarce
Will my confusion give me leave to know
Him whom I have begotten, lying thus
In such a mangled condition.
Sonne, if it may be lawfull in the sad
Estate wherein our miseries have put us
For me to use that name sometime so sweet,
I must then say unto thee, that this spectacle
Makes me to feel thy wounds more sensibly
Then thou thy selfe didst when thou didst receive them:
Thy miserable destinie and mine
Differs not much, the blood which thou shed'st is
The purest in my veines, the arme whose rigour
Hasted thy death, gave not the fatall stroak
Through thy heart, but it entered in my bowells:
And if we differ any thing in such
A miserable fortune, tis in this,
That I still feel the pressing evills, which thou
Sufferest no more. Sources of my afflictions,
Deepe wounds, which appeare now but bloody mouths,
Whose silent accents seeme here to solissit
My arme to a reveng, know that a subject
Houlds not his Soveraignes fate betwene his hāds:
In vaine ye aske reveng' gainst such a blood;
Alas here I can offer you no other,
But what my heart makes to flow from mine eyes.

Isabella.
The crueltie o'th' Duke, Sir, should be punish'd.

Alphonso.
He is my Prince, although in my concernement
A tyrant, subjects destinies depend
Vpon their Soveraignes, a crime becomes
Iust in their hands; and if at any time
Those earthlie Gods ought to be punished',
It must be by a thunder bolt from Heaven:
In this case I should make but vaine attempts.
If the Duke dye, shall my Sonne live againe?
But what chance brings Clarina here in such
Distracted haste?

SCENA QUINTA.

Clarina, Alphonso, Isabella.
Clarina.
Oh Signeur, oh Madame!—

Alphonso.
VVhat ayles thee, art thou mad?

Clarina.
Oh, I have seene—

Alphonso.
what hast thou seene that troubleth thee so much?

Clarina.
I have seene, I have seene—

Alphonso.
VVhat hast thou seene?
Speake, I conjure thee.

Clarina.
Since then I must speake it,
I've seene a dead man walke.

Alphonso.
Th'ast lost thy reason.

Clarina.
Nothing's more true, that fearefull Fantasme followes
My steps, I heare him, he pursues me; save me.

Isabella.
It is my Brother—

Alphonso.
Straung! It is my Sonne.

SCENA SEXTA.

Alphonso, Fabritio, Isabella.
Alphonso.
Sonne, is my soule sure, or am I deceiv'd,
Is this but an illusion which I see
But a vaine object formed by my fancy?
If so, finish my life heere with my errour?
Mayst thou yet be i'th' number of the living?
Fabritio, ist thy body that I see
Or ist thy shadow? comest thou to fill me
With joy, or with affright? come satisfie me,
Let me embrace thee.

Fabritio.
I see the light, Sir, and I finde here charms,
Since you esteeme my life at such a rate
As to lament it lost; not but as injur'd
By love and fortune, they should not doe to me
A favour to deprive me of the light;
But though they should oblige me very much,
In the condition wherein my soule
Is now, to quench my feirce flame with my blood,
And though my blood thus shed would make my fortune,
More sweet, I would conserve it, since tis yours.

Alphonso.
How comes it that thou hast so strong a hatred
For life? thou canst not doubt Climenes love;
The passion of the Duke alarumes thee
Too much; if thou lou'st much, thou art no lesse
Belou'd.

Fabritio.
A faire appearance oftentimes
Beareth false wittnes, I assur'd my selfe
Too much of her fidelitie, and though
I could doubt the report my senses made me,
I have too sure a testimonie of her
Perfidiousnes, since her owne mouth confirm'd it:
She entertain'd in amourous discourse
My happie Rivall with so passionate
An air, that I forgate both my respect
Vnto the Duke, and the care of my life,
In uttering my despight; the Duke possess'd
Strongly with love and hate, gave expresse order
Vnto his Guards to kill me; but I knowing
That my defence then was unprofitable,
Vnder a dark porch sought my sanctuarie,
Whilst an unfortunate stranger walking that way
They took to apprehend me in the darke,
Was suddenlie environ'd with the Guards,
And peirced through with halbards. assoone as
Those murtherers were gone, to draw my life
Out of such hazards, and to make this errour
More probable, I took the bloodie cloaths
Of that deplorable body, and was readie
To leave it mine, having cast his into
The current of the river, when a noyse
Of voices crossing my designe, I was
Constrain'd to leave that body naked and
Without life, to come speedilie to you,
And to advertise you of this event.

Alphonso.
I feare the issue of this blest sucesse;
Know that the Duke boasts of thy death alreadie,
He thinkes it just, which maketh me to judge
That thy preserved life is still in danger;
If thou desirest to obey thy Father,
Stay not a minute here, but seek thy safety
In sudden absence.

Fabritio.
But What! must I leave
Climene?

Alphonso.
She hath left thee, her example
Shewes thee the way to infidelitie;
If to betray a person that doth love us
Be a base act, to love one that betrayes us,
Is no lesse weaknes.

Fabritio.
I am stil a Lovet,
Though an abused Lover, and she hath.
More beautie then injustice, her crime puts
No fearful object in her eyes and countenance,
Although she cease to love, she ceaseth not
To be belov'd, and my heart charm'd by her,
Deceives it selfe, if it thinks to be able
To hate her, though she hath betrayed it.

Alphonso.
I finde that absence is the onelie remedie
For this disease, tis fitt thy passion yeild
To my desires; fly through obedience,
Or through resentment, oh assure thy safety
By thy remove, tis that which I desire.

Fabritio.
And which I feare.

Alphonso.
That matters not.

Fabritio.
But Sir—

Alphonso.
But I command it thee: for feare to be
Perceiv'd, goe forth without attendance and
Without noyse unto Carlos house, and there
Passe the rest of the night; to morrow earlie
Before the day break, take the way to Florence,
VVhere I have many Friēds that will defend thee.
In the meane time I'le send thee by a friend
A horse and money for thy journey; haste.

Fabritio.
My Sister.

Alphonso.
Add not to my miserie
By sad regretts: be gone, be gone; adiew;
Let me embrace thee, I deprive my selfe
Of my most deare support, but though I lose thee,
Tis with intent to save thee.

—Exit Fabritio.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

ALPHONSO, ISABELLA.
Isabella.
By what crueltie
Banish you my deare Brother?

Alphonso.
Isabella,
Thou speakest like a Sister, and I act
As Father, it is farre more pleasing to me
To have an absent Sonne, then none at all:
I will deceive the Duke by taking of
His unjust pursuit gainst his life, when he
Shall fully understand his death: I will
To morrow that my house be all in mourning,
That this corps be interred for my Sonne;
And to the end that all Ferrara be
Deceived with the Duke, I'le honour it
VVith funerall pompe, this is a debt we owe.
Vnto a blood, whose losse hath conserv'd ours,
Although we had no further use of it.
Lastly—

SCENA OCTAVO.

Fabritio, Alphonso, Isabella.
Fabritio.
Sir—

Alphonso.
VVhat is it that troubles thee?

Fabritio.
I met the Duke, Sir, at our dore, he follow'd
A torch, which might, perhaps, discover me,
I heare noise, he pursues me, oh receive him,

Alphonso.
O duty too unjust! cruel constraint!
Goe quicklie with thy Sister Isabella
Into that closet.

Isabella.
He goes to Carlos house, what shall I doe?

Fabritio.
Come along with me, what should hinder you?

Isabella.
I feare you should be seene, and there fore would
That the light might be put out in this place.

Fabritio.
I contradict not, let us enter then.

SCENA NONA.

Carlos comming out of the closet.
Carlos.
They are both entered, I must quickly forth:
Fortune no longer seemeth to be contrarie
To my designes; the way is free; but what!
I heare the Fathers voice: oh how unhappie
Am I?

SCENA DECIMA.

The Duke, Valerio, Alphonso, Carlos, Guards.
Duke.
Alphonso , I am not deceiv'd,
Your sone is Living, I have seene him; having
Vnderstood, that Climene in a soowne
Fainted, being carefull of so faire a life,
And guided by my love, I went unto
Her house, where happilie I saw your sonne:
I know that she adores him, and dare say
That her disease wil Vanish, if he Lives:
Lastly I wish it, and am come of purpose
To be informed cleerelie of this truth.

Alphonso shewing the Duke the body which is upon the bed.
Alphonso.
Sir, you may easilie be cleerd herin;
Behould my sonne, judge if his losse be certaine:
You fear'd him living, doe not feare him dead.
See, his congealed blood smoaks at your presence?

Duke.
It is too much I'm fullie satisfied
That he is dead; but what did Carlos heere
Without light?

Carlos.
To secure my Friend, I must
Feign hand somlie

—aside.
Duke.
He seemes to be astonish'd.

Carlos.
Sir, tis not without cause that I am so.
For comming here to understand the newes
of my deare Friend Fabritios destinie,
Assoone as I entered that open chamber,
His Ghost appear'd before me in a posture
So dreadfull, that I tremble to thinke on't:
He had the figure of a fearefull Fantasme,
His bosom was opened with a large wound,
His colour pale, and all his body bloodie.
He came towards me with a staggering pace,
And darted forth a look though languishing
Yet feirce; a bleak, and black blood issued
Out of his mouth, and in his eyes grim death
Walked the round.

Duke.
I also saw just now
Fabritios shape, but much lesse horrible,
Me thought he was alive.

Carlos.
I dare engage
My credit, that your Highnesse saw his shadow
As well as I.

Duke.
Tis that which doth confound me.
I still held for a fable what the vulgar
Report, of vaine ghostes, and could not imagine
That a spirit once departed from a body,
Should leave the dead to come among the living,
Cease to be simple, and be visible,
Having no more a body. Notwithstanding
This successe startles me, I could not think it,
And now I cannot doubt it. But adiew,
I see your griefe encreaseth by my presence.

Alphonso.
Sir, I waite on you.

Duke.
I know what is a Father, and that nature
VVill not allow him to pay homadges
To him that robbs him of a Sonne—
Exit Duke.

Alphonso.
How highly—
Am I indebled to you for this favour?—

To Carlos.
Carlos.
It is not great; twere requisite Fabritio
Should instantlie betake him to my house,
From whence he may unseene make his escape,
I'le goe unto the Duke now, to confirme him
Yet stronger in his errour.—
Exit Carlos.

SCENA UNDECIMA.

Alfonso, Fabritio, Isabella.
Alphonso.
Goe, and chuse
Florence to morrow for retraite.

Fabritio.
Sir—

Alphonso.
Let me
Receive no more replyes, doe what I bid thee,
All my desires should be strong lawes to thee,
Adiew, let me give thee the last embrace.

Isabella.
Sir, notwithstanding all your care, I feare
My brother can't submit himselfe unto
This severe order; by his last discourse
I comprehended too well that he loves
Climene still after all her contempts,
And that his blinded soule is still resolv'd
To lose all, rather then to lose her sight.

Alphonso.
I will be satisfied heerin, and know
The meanes to doe it, faile not thou to morrow
Towards the evening to goe to Climene:
The evill, that hath surprised her, invites thee
Vnto this Duty; for my part, I wil
Make Carlos a vissit at that time:
If my sonne stayes, I doubt not but to finde him
In one or to ther house; but it is late,
Adiew, in humane Fortune give unto thee
As much rest, as I have unquietnes,
And trouble at my heart.
—Exit Alphonso.

Isabella.
Las! mine doth bleed
with double griefe, though the first wound be hid.