University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

A Court-Yard before a Cloyster.
Enter Matron of the Converts and Flamineo.
Mat.
Should it be known the Duke has such Recourse
To your imprison'd Sister, I were like
T'incur much Damage by it.

Fla.
Not a Scruple.
The Pope is now expir'd, and their wise Heads,
Are troubled now with Business of more Weight,
Than guarding of Ladies.

[Ent. a Servant.
Serv.
Yonder's Flamineo in Conference with the Matron.
Let me speak with you—
I would intreat you to deliver for me,
This Letter to the fair Vittoria:
Hereafter you shall know me, and receive
Thanks for this Curtesy.

[Exit.
Fla.
How now, what's that?

Mat.
A Letter.

[Enter Brachiano.
Fla.
To my Sister! I'll see't deliver'd.

Bra.
What's that you read Flamineo?

Fla.
Look.

Bra.
Ha! To the most unfortunate his best respected Vittoria.
Who was the Messenger?

Fla.
I know not.

Bra.
No? Who sent it?

Fla.
You speak as if a Man
Should know what Fowl is coffin'd in a baked Meat,
Before you cut it up.

Bra.
I'll open't, wer't his Heart—What's here Subscrib'd Florence,
This Juggling is too gross and palpable.
Read it.

Fla.
Your Fears I'll turn to Triumphs, be but Mine,
Your Prop is fall'n, it grieves me that a Vine,
Which Princes heretofore have wish'd to gather,
Wanting Supporters, now shou'd fade and wither.

Bra.
Wine, Wine, with Lees would serve his turn.

Fla.
Your sad Imprisonment, I'll soon uncharm,
And with a Princely unresisted Arm,
Bear you to Florence, where my Love and Care,
Shall hang your Wishes in my Silver Heir.

Bra.
A Halter on his damn'd Equivocation.

Flo.
Nor for my years return me the sad Willow,
None prefer Blossoms before fruit that's Mellow.

Bra.
Rotten to my knowledge with lying too long 'ith Beadstraw.

Fla.
And all the Lines of Age, this Line Convinces,
The God's never wax Old, no more do Princes.

Bra.
Tear it, let's ha'no more Atheism.
I have a lucky and surprizing Thought
To Counter-blast this undermining Mole,
O're-reach this Politick Duke in his own Plot.

Fla.
As how my Lord?

Bra.
The self same Project, which the Duke of Florence
Lays down for her Escape, will I Pursue.

Fla.
To steal Vittoria hence.

Bra.
Immediately.

Fla.
And no time fitter than this Night my Lord,
The Pope being Dead, and all the Cardinals entred
The Conclave for Electing a new Pope.
The City in a great Confusion,
We may attire her in a Page's Habit,
And Post away for Padua.

Bra.
We lose Time.
Instantly steal forth the Prince Giovanni,
And straight for Padua—You two with the old Mother,
And young Marcello that attends on Florence,
[If you can work him to it] follow me.
I will Advance you all—for you my dear Vittoria,
Think of a Dutchess Title.

Fla.
This has a Spirit,
And Wings us all like Lightning.

[Exit.