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The Tvrke

A Worthie Tragedie
  
  
  
  
  
  

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Actus 3
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Actus 3

Enter Timoclea like a Ghost.
Timo.
Blush not thou chast and modest Queene of night,
Nor hide thy siluer crescent in a clowde,
To see me thus Rhamnusia like attir'd:
Stare on ye Argus eyed heauens and sea woman
More full of vengeance, then your iealous Queene.
Medusa sometime the loue of Neptune,
(But after for thy lust transformd a monster)
Lend me those serpents that about thy head
Curle vp like Elfe-knots, at whose horrid sight
The Sun may vanish or stand still affright.
Or you you Furies ministers of feare,
(That at Astreas feet lye bound in snakes
Attending her iust sentence to begin
Terror of conscience in the brest of sin)
This night be powerfull in me and inspire
My face with feare, my heart with racke-swolne ire.
Venice, Venice, great Venice:

Uen.
Who speakes to Venice?

Within.
Timo.
Iulia thy loue.

Ven.
Delusiue voyce, why dost renew my griefe
By naming Iulia?



Timo.
Didst thou loue Iulia?

Ven.
Thou wrongst me to make question of my loue.
Whatsoere thou art.

Enter Venice.
Timo.
Then see thy Iulia and reuenge her wrongs.

Ven.
Dissolue ye glassy pearles and melt in drops,
Or with the teare-spent mother Niobe
Turne into stones: shall I beleue my thoughts,
And credit what thy shape presents to me?
Thou art the Ghost of murdred Iulia.

Timo.
I am.

Ven.
Immortall essence Virgin-element
So may I tearme thy ayry substance freed
From the grosse mixture of our earthly load:
Oh I am throngd with passions & each crauing vent
None can haue passage till some teares be spent,
Fall fall ye siluer pearles, and of the earth
Purchase a soft relenting at my griefes.
Shoure downe like rainie drops, and pearce the stones
Make them receiue my sorrowes, or from mine eyes
Run like to christall riuers through the world,
Slyde ore the flowry medowes that the Nimphs
Dancing in feary rings vpon the grasse,
May leaue their sport, and weepe to see you passe,
Where by the dolefull murmur as you goe,
The hils may here you mourne and sound my woe,
Pardon: if I be tedious virgin spirit,
Or if my griefe be too effeminate:
Thy habit is an Index to reuenge,
Which thy wrongs seeme to pleade for of my loue,
Speake them, or deale them through the yeelding aire
Into my eares, and they shall be to me
Like the sterne drumme, or musique of the warre
Vnto the coward, or the fainting souldiour.



Timo.
Venice I was murdered.

Ven.
Murder is open mouthd, and as the Sea
Whose couetous waues inprisond by thy land,
Bellow for griefe and roare vpon the sand.
So from the earth it cries, and like a childe
Wrongd by his carelesse nurse will not be stilld:
Are ye then deafe yea gods, ye cannot heare it?
Or is iust Libra falne out of your Spheares,
That wronged States must to the earth appeale
For iustice and reuenge. Then tis not prophane
T'usurpe your functions: my hand shall be as iust
As my soule louing: and they both shall leaue
A story to the world of my reuenge.
Nor in succeeding times shall be forgot.
Venice reuengd those wrongs the heauens would not.
I interrupt what that wouldst say, and seeme
To crowne all vengeance in a passion.
Speake but his name.

Timo.
My vncle Borgias.

Uen.
Enough.
O that the genious that attends on man,
Should be a doubtfull Oracle to the soule
And whispering to our intellect what fate
Hangs like a falling tower vpon his state,
Yet be no more of force to length our ioy,
Then were Cassandras prophecies to Troy.
Disloyall trecherous villaine Borgias,
Some Hydras poyson, or the blood of Nessus
Cleaue to thy flesh:
Oh my blood swells beyond my power: my voyce
Louder then his that thunders through the cloudes,
Shall speake this monstrous murder to the world,
Ile be thy Orator wrongd spirit and plead
Blood and reuenge for thee though thou best dead.

Timo.
Stay.

Ven:
What wouldst thou more?



Timo.
Heare and be aduisde:
To morrow when the Senate sits be there,
And in the eares of the whole state proclaime,
And iustifie my words gainst Borgias:
In this alone I will great Uenice proue,
Do it as euer thou didst Iulia loue.

Ven.
I will.

Timo.
Whilst I borne vpon aire attend my blisse.

Ven.
Peace to thy soule: Adieu.

Exit.
Timo.
Remember Iulia.
Yet prosper and go on, for Iulias ghost
My false shape takes: th'abused Duke's afire,
Through Borgias blood I'le runne to my desire.
Enter Bordello solus.
Whome haue we heere?

Bord.

Priapus thou womans God assist me with a Iouiall ability:
this night I may beget a Hercules: Fortune I must confesse
thou hast turnd vp thy muffler: and cast a gratious aspect on
Bordello: for I am not onely in the state of cleane linnen; but also
thou hast made me gratious in the eye of Signior Diaspermaton my
Apothecary, who hath furnished me with this receipt: heere is a
compound of Cantharides Diositerion, marrow of an Oxe, haires of
a Lyon, stones of a Goate, Cock-sparrowes braines, and such
like this after an houres receipt, hath a fourefold operation: and
least I should be like a Peacocke all taile and no heart, heere is a
distillation of ten pound a pinte, that comforts the inward, fires
the braines, cheeres vp the spirit, and makes a man lay about him
like a dutchman. Let me see, it is more then time that I commit
this deuine pill to his hopefull working: least my staffe be out of
the rest when my aduersary is in the carriere. So Cupids faire
mother be thy midwife: out and alas I am mare rid, what Somners
Ghost or limme of Lucifer, puts poore Bordello in minde of
pennance before he hath trespassed?




Timo.
I am espied: his feare doth apprehend me for a ghost,
And I must feed it.

Bord.

Se, it makes toward me: infortunate Bordello that the deuill
should be an enemy to lechery.


Scæna. 2.

Enter Madame Fulsome, Eunuchus and Phego.
Ful.
Come let vs set to our businesse, Phego,
Lend vs your wind to coole this posset.

Phego.

It is not the first time I haue bene constrained to puffe
and blow in your Ladiships seruice.


Ful.

It hath oft come in my minde to knowe the deriuation
and denomination of this word posset?


Eunu.

I take it that it comes of the Latin word posse to make a
man able: and that's the reason euer after eating them, men desire
to make experience of their forces.


Phego.

I rather conceaue it comes of the word pono of putting
together, for that your possets are the vsuall meanes of
congregating, putting and combining your Court creatures together.


Eunu.

And that may well be: for I remember that reuerent
pedagoge William Lilly, brings in gigno, pono, cano, one in
the necke of another, gigno to beget, pono to put in, and cano to
sing.


Ful.

That Lilly was a beastly knaue to put pono behind gigno
there is no musique in it: but all this time we misse not Signior
Bordello, it hath not be his custome to be absent where his chops
might haue had imployment.


Eunu.

You speake of the dayes of hunger, when the slaue was
a straunger in the land of Hauilab: but the word is retrograde: the
last age is a golden age with him.




Enter Bordella.
Fuls.

See where the sonne of Saturne appeares.


Eun.

Sfoot I thought the Dog-fish had bene bayting Cerberus
ere this time.


Bord.

Ladies did you not see a spirit passe this way?


Eunu.

Thou seest we are feeding the flesh man, what doost
thou talke of the spirit?


Bord.

Without iest a meere Ghost, standing bolt vpright at
Timocleas chamber, so nye Court Incubus on my life.


Fuls.

Were you not much terrified Signior with the apparition?


Bord.

How: terrefied? I no sooner beheld it, but drawing my
better parts together

Enter Timoclea.
Helpe, helpe!

All run out, Timoclea followes the Eunuch out.

Scena 3.

Enter Ferrara solus.
Ferr.
Feare and suspition, two night-waking charmes,
Banish all sleepe, suggesting in my thoughts,
Falsehood and treason: I am slow and dull,
Discending like the earth: yet I know not what
Prickes like the thorne of Philomel at my breast:
And tels me there is daunger in my rest.
Sometime I thinke of Iulia: and that thought
Presents her loues in a liuing shape.
When not remembring death, I ope my armes,
To tye a Gordian knot about her waste
And bid her welcome: but that empty claspe,
Deluding my false hopes with nought but ayre,
Makes my blood angry, and doth turne my passion
To seeke a subiect fit for my reuenge:
And then I euer thinke of Borgias,


As if my loue were wrongd by Borgias.
A groning within.
What meanes these suddaine tumults in mine eares?
Saue me eternall guard of innocence:
Treason, treason, villaine thou shalt buy my blood.

Eunuchus rusheth in: he kils him: Enter Timoclea.
Eun.
O spare me.

Fer.
Distraction of my braine, what shape art thou?

Timo.
Iulias

Exit.
Ferr.
Iulia: hah: stay tis gone: did I see?
Or did my feare and fancy frame this forme?
Villaine thou art some instrument of falshood
Confesse thy treason.

Eun.
You are secure: that shape that nam'd your loue
Pursued me through the court, till for my rescue
Feare made me vse this violence at your chamber.
O I am slaine, and dye a causeles death,
I nere liud false to thee: all thou hast gaind
Is that my soule dyes cleare and leaues thine staind.

He dyes.
Ferr.
To doe thee good my soule shall say as much
And witnes it before the Iudge of soules,
When at the generall Barre we meete together.
But I must vse thy shape: this night Ile walke
Hid in thy habit from discerning eyes:
Ile pry about the Court, perhaps I may
Once more see Iulias ghost, and learne her wrongs,
By them to ayme a right in my reuenge.
My hand first dyes the scene: and it shall fill
The stage with vengeance: Nemesis shall wade
Vp to the chin and bath herselfe in blood,
The dangling snakes that hang about her necke
Shall sucke like Lethe of the purple gore
Shed for my Iulias death.
Ile feast the rauenous people of the aire,


And fill the hungrie wolues with slaughtered men.
The streets of Florence like the streets of Rome
(When death & Sylla raingd) shall run with blood.
Their swelling channels with a scarlet tide
Shall wash the stores, and for my Iulias death
The angry gods of wrath shall smile as pleasd
To se me so reuengd: Eunuchu, thy death
Is but a prologue to induce a plot,
Maist thou be blessed, th'art not worth my hate
I must reach higher, and on thy disguise,
Lay but the ground-worke for reuenge to rise.

Exit.

Scæna 4.

Enter Mulleasses solus.
Mull.
Be pleas'd ye powers of might, and bout me skip
Your anticke measures: like to cole black moores,
Dauncing their high Lauoltos to the Sun
Circle me round: and in the midst Ile stand,
And cracke my sides with laughter at your sports.
Oh my hopes fatte me: nor shall time grow old,
Or weary with attending my successe.
One night shall crowne me happy: Borgias wife
Appeares vnto the Dukes for Iulias ghost,
To breed suspition in them of her murder,
So that if Borgias chaunce suruiue this night
(As he must dye if all my plots hits right)
The Dukes to morrow when the Senate sits
May proue what ile affirme against his life.
Nor to redeeme his safety shall he bring
The Lady to disproue what we auerre.
Here will I cease, and in some straunge disguise
Keepe till my growing faction be of force
To second my ambition for the crowne.
If I plot well faire Amada must dye,


And by her mothers hand: she must not liue
To speake her fathers wrongs. Timoclea
Thou, thou art next: I tooke thee from thy graue
Not for the loue I bore Timoclea,
But to sucke from thy vse the sweets of loue
I bore to Iulia: twas loue and state.
Gaue thee this time of life to strength my fate:
But blabbe not: scilence tongue: she comes.

Enter Timoclea.
Timo.
My Lord, what, drownd in contemplation?
Mulleasses: loue.

Mull.
Heauenly creation, beauties abstract, natures wonder.

Timo.
What meanes my Lord? awake, Timoclea speakes.

Mul.
I must inioy thee Amada: strong force of passion.

Timo.
Ha: Amada: dearest Lord: your sence
And know me.

Mul.
Ha Timoclea: thy loue and pardon, I was ore borne,
And carried from my selfe with idle thoughts
Of what sad melancholly suggested in me:
What comfort bringst thou? hath thy dead shape
Bene powerfull vnto feare? stood they amazd?
Their eyes like fiered starres set on thy face:
Their speeche abrupt and short: their haire vpright?
Stiffe like the quils of Porcupines? art blest?

Timo.
I am: if what you speak may make me blest.

Mul.
It makes vs happy: giues our hope true life.

Timo.
Neither my life nor hope to be so blest
Makes me so happy as thy loue deare Turke.
Were I a Venus thou shouldst be my Mars,
And I would court thee euen in Phebus sight,
Although it mou'd an enuy in the gods.
Be Iouial: & like Salmecis, thy loue
Shall cling about thy necke.

Mull.
I am not sportfull:



Timo.
Ile dance before thee like a faiery Nimph,
And with my pleasing motions make thee sport:
Ile court thee nak'd, as did the Queene of thoughts
Her sullen boy, and all to make thee sport.

Mull.
You are not pleasing.

Timo.
Not pleasing gentle Turke?
Time hath not set the caracters of age
On my smooth browe: my pulses beate as high,
As when my first youth lifted vp my blood,
I buy no beauty: nor hath nature bene
A niggard in my face: I am yet yong
Fresh and delightsome, as the checkerd spring,
The Lilly and the Rose growe in my cheekes,
And make a bed for loue to rest him on.

Mul.
But I am restles.

Timo.
Rest thee on my brest.

Mul.
No I must pilgrine to a loue deuine.

Timo.
Loue me and vnto loue Ile build a shrine
And on an Altar offer to our loues,
The thighs of Sparrowes and of Turtle Doues.

Mull.
You are importunate.

Timo.
Yeeld then and I haue done.

Mul.
No more:
Faire Amada's the saint that I adore.

Exit.
Timo.
Amada: minyon is it you?
Makes me thus sue vnheard? my daughter Amada
Haue I in my bosome nurst a snake:
No fierce-streamd torrent, nor no storme at Sea,
No stepdame is halte so raging: my blood was not so strong,
When thou wert got: now tis like the Sea,
My soule a Barke that runnes with wind and tyde
And cannot stop: the Anchor of my thoughts
(Reason) is lost, and like the vine-gods priests
Running downe Nila or from Pindus top,
I am vnstaid and doubtfull in my course.


O the strong power of sence: I must do that
Which all succeeding times to come shall speake
Yet not beleeue; all say twas done, yet none
Say twas well done. Loue is a God,
Strong, free, vnbounded, and as some define,
Feares nothing, pittieth none: such loue is mine.

Exit.
Finis Actus 3.