University of Virginia Library

SCEN. 5.

Enter Frescobaldi solus.
Fres.
This is the black night, this the fatall hand:
These are the bloudy weapons which must be
Witnesse and actors of this Tragedy.
Now Frescobaldi play thy masters prize:
Here is a rich purse cram'd with red crusadoes
Which doth inspire me with a martiall spirit,
Now could I combate with the diuill to night.
First did I wash my liuer, lungs, and heart.
In Cretane wines and head strong Maluesse
(Such as would make a coward fight with Mars)
Then least I should with any weapons drawne
Be driuen to danger of mine enemy;
I practised my martiall feicts of fence:
As for example if with armes vnsheath'd,
I were to kill this conduct here I come.
he fenceth.
He makes a thrust, I with a swift passado,
Make quick auoydance, and with this stoccado
(Although he fence with all his finest force)
Bar'd of his body thrust him in the throate.
Guardateui bene, signori honoreuoli.
Suppose this conduict or my duellist,
Should falsifie the foine vpon me thus.
Here will I take him, turning downe this hand.
Enter Henrico Baglioni looking earnestly vpon Frescobaldi.
Il punto verso indrizzato, thus.
Admit he force me with his ambroccado
Here I deceiue then, with this passado
And come vppon him in the speeding place.

Bag.
what Mandragon or saluage Ascapart,
what Pantaconger or Pantagruell
Art thou that fightest with thy fathers soule
Or with some subtill apparitions.
Which no man can behould with mortall eyes
Or art thou rauished with bedlamy
Fighting with figments and vaine fantazies
Chimeraes ot blacke spirrits of the night.

Fresc.
Come not within 9. furlongs of this place.
My name is Rubosongal the grimme ghost
Of Bembocamber king of Calicute.
And here for this night I keepe centrenell
For Muscopateron great king of flyes;
Great grandsier of ten thousand hecatombes.

Bag:
I Coniure thee fowle fiende of Acheron
By puissant Hoblecock and Bristletoe,
By Windicaper Monti-bogglebo.
Polipotmos and the dreadfull names
of Mulli-sacke and Hermocotterock.
By Petrouidemi, by the dogged spirrits
Of Bacchus which Canary land inherrits.
By purple Aligant the bloudy gyant.
And leaden headed hollock pure and pliant.
By Birrha Martia and by Sydrack sweete
Who did with mathew Glynne in combat meete.
And by this awfull crosse vppon my blade
Of which black curres and hedghogges are affraid.
And by this fox which stinkes of Pagan bloud,
Do'st thou walke there for mischiefe or for good.

Fres.
Braue man whose spirit is approued well,
(As most aprooued panders truly tell)
Vnder greene hedges, vnder Coblers stalles,
In portall, porches, vnder batterd walles,
Which day; by night keepes watch-full centinell
To guaze the pleasures of faire Claribell
Profane arch patriark of Pancridge steeple,
The bauldy beaken of vngodly people.
With other matter which I might alleadge
To the Grand Captaine of Collman-hedge,
Marching fowle Amazonian trulls in troupes
Whose lanthornes are still lighted in their Poupes.
Some without kerchiefes, others with torne smockes;
Certaine imboch'd with piles, and some with poxes.
Others with rotten shooes and stockings rente
With carrine in each ditch keepe parliament.
In petticotes all patch'd and wast-coate torne,
And wandring with some ragge blesse euery thorne.
Which with their Targets neuer make retire,
From any breach till they their foomen sire.
Rebating the stiffe pointes of their keene blades
Till all their champions masculine proue lades.
To thee saith Frescobaldi case thy steele
Least thou the rigor of my furie feele.

Bag.
And yet I loue thee for thy martiall grace,
Thine in all seruice: shake hands and embrace.

Fresc.
A pox vpon thy coward fistes foule knaue,
And yet I loue thee roague: aske roague and haue.

Embrace fantastically.
Bagb.
Come and embrace: tis blith when malte-men meete,
And drinke till they haue lost both head and feete.
And driueling sleepe on euery stall and bench
With euery man a knee in his hand and in his Can a prettie wench
But Frescobaldi my braue Bodigonero,
Varlet of veluet, my moccado villaine,
Old heart of durance, my stript canuase shoulders,
And my Perpetuana pander tell me;
Tell me what humors Cataplasmatick,
Excited haue thy Bacchick fantasies:
To draw that triumphant swerli dildido,
Vpon some spirit of the Buttery,

Fris.
This was no barmie spirit of the bottle,
It was a bloudy spirit of the battell:
And if I lye, call me thy Wimble-cock.

Bag.
A mouldy iest, well I will answere thee:
I coniure thee by Negra Luciaes name,
By Dol Pattenti, by the subtill shape,
Of Nanna Baliker, by the cunning fleights
Of Vini Clerilicks with hir faire sprights:
By Mega Court, with Marga Marichalus,
That in Turnuliball doth keepe an Ale-house:
By Nan Riuehomo that hote stigmatist,
Now bedded with th'Italian Vitraillist,
Which in the fierie Phlegitonian flames,
Did worke strange vitriall dildidoes for Dames,
Her spirits haue no power to touch this strand.
Till they transported from Lambechia land,
By Charon Ferriman of Black Auerne,
Fall Anchor at the Stilliard Tauerne,
And by Tartarean Plutoes Heben bowle,
Why didst thou combate with thy Fathers soule?

Fres.
Learned Magitian, skild in hidden Artes,
As well in prior as posterior parts,
I see thou kennist the secrets of all sorts,
Of sharpe siringues and salacious sports:
Venerall Buboes, Tubers Vlcerous,
And Iannes De fisticanckers venemous,
Doubtlesse Don Vigo then his vigor pour'd
Into thy braines, when he thy bottle scour'd.
Noble Henrilico question no further,
My meditations are of bloud and murther,
I ieasted haue too long, pree-thee be gone.
Henrico Baglioni (by this sword)
I am to morrow to performe a duell,
And practising in this nights melancholie,
How to dispatch it with a braue stoccadoe.
Heere I did make a proofe, prithie good-night,
Trouble me now no more: early to morrow,
Ile march vnto the signe oth frying-panne,
And take thee timely with thy pointes vntrust,
To drinke a flagon of greeke wine with thee.

Bag.
Goodnight my noble Rillibilbibo,
Thou shalt be welcome in the darkest midnight.
Exit Bagli.

Fris.
Now to my watchword it is quight forgot, oh
Col nuuolo la Pioggia: thinke vpon it.
The clocke strikes eleuen.
This is mine hower appoynted this the place,
Here will I stand close till tha'llarum call,

he stands behind the post.
Enter a Page with a torche, Duke of Candie and Cæsar Borgia disguised.
Can.
What ist a clocke boy now?

Pag.
My gratious Lord,
By Sistoes horologe tis strooke eleuen.

Cæsa.
A fit hower for our purpose noble brother,

Can.
But hath La Bella formiana notice,
Of our aproch to night.

Cæs.
Oh doubt it not, villaine put out that torch,
The boy putteth out the torch.
Being disguis'd we will not be discryed,
Depart you to my lodging presently,
Paine of thy life not one word that thou saw vs.

Exit page.
Can.
Tis very darke, good brother goe before,
You know the streets best.

Cæsa.
Oh keepe your way; you cannot lightly fall,
But if you doe.

Can,
How then.

Cæsa.
You shalbe supported.

Can.
My heart begins to throb, my soule misdoubts,
I feare some treachery A che me fido, guarda me Dio,
On in Gods name.

Cæs.
Giue me your hand brother, fie doe not faint.

Can.
Cæsar I can scarse goe,
A suddaine qualme hath seaz'd vpon my spirits.

Cæs.
Tut brother forward with alacritie,
My life for yours youle be at ease anon,

Can.
Tis a foule busines let vs retire,
And seeke some other seasone for our sports,

Cæs.
I am asham'd thou should'st be generall,
To lead those forces that fight for the Church,
And heere shew such faint harted cowardize.

Can.
Are you dispos;d to quarrell in the streets,
Neither the time nor place serues instantly;
To call you to some audit for these words.

Cæs.
Abortiue Coward borne before thy time,
Cæsar trips vp Candies heels.
I will not brooke thy foolish insolence.
Col nuuolo la pioggia.

Cæsar and Frescobaldi stab him.
Can.
Deere God reuenge my wrongs, receaue my soule.

Cæs.
Let him receaue thy soule when he thinkes good,
Ile take an order for thy buriall.
Helpe Frescobaldi let vs heaue him ouer,
That he may fall into the riuer Tiber,
Come to the bridge with him.

Fres.
Be what he will the villaine's ponderous,
Hath he some gould about him shall I take it?

Cæs.
Take it were there a million of duckets,
Thou hast done brauely Frescobaldi,
Stretch thee, streth out thine armes feare that he
Fall not vpon the arches.

Fres.
Ile wash him doubt you not of a new fashion.

Cæs.
I thinke thou neuer hadst thy Christendome,
Follow for Company prenitious villaine.

Fres.
Hold hold, Coxwounds my Lord hold,

Cæs.
The diuell goe with you both for company.

Cæsar casteth Frescobaldi after
Cæsar
solus.
Now Cæsar Muster vp thy wittes together.
Summon thy sences and aduance thy selfe,
Ware and Earth haue interpos'd their bodies,
Betwixt the worldes bright eye and this blacke murther.
Sweete silent night (guarded with secret starres)
Keepe silence, and conceale this Tragedie;
Saturne is lord ascendant of this hower,
Propitious patron of assassinates
Of murthers, Paracides, and massacres:
Lord of my birth, auspitious to my life,
This is my first degree to domination.
Who can, or (if they could) who dare suspect,
How Cæsar Borgia kild his brother Candie?
This is infallible, that many crimes
Lurke vnderneath the robes of Holinesse:
And vnderneath my Purple tunicle
This fact concealed is: Ascanio Sforza
Shall strangely (by some wilie policies)
Be brought into suspect for Candies death.
Sister Lucretia thou must follow next:
My fathers shame and mine, endeth in thee.
Now shew thy selfe true Cæsar; Cæsar shall
Either liue Cæsar like, or not at all.

Guicchiardine.
Death and bloud onely lengthen out our Scœne,
These be the visible and speaking shewes,
That bring vice into detestation,
Vnnaturall murthers, cursed poysonings,
Horrible exorcisme, and Inuocation,
In them examine the rewarde of sinne.
What followes, view with gentle patience.