University of Virginia Library

Scene. III.

Bertoldo with a small booke in fetters, Iaylor.
Bertoldo.
Tis here determin'd (great examples arm'd
Winh arguments produc'd to make it good)
That neither tyrants, nor the wrested lawes;
The peoples franticke rage, sad exile, want,
Nor that which I endure, captivity,
Can doe a wise man any injury:
Thus Seneca, when he wrot it, thought. But then
Fecliity courted him; his wealth exceeding
A private man's happy in the embraces
Of his chaste wife Paulina; his house full
Of childr, enclyents, servants, flattering friends
Soothing his lip-positions, and created
Prince of the Senate, by the generall voyce,
As his pupill newes suffrage: then no doubt
He held, and did believe this. But no sooner
The Princes frownes, and iealosies had throw'n him
Out of securities lappe, and a centurion
Had offer'd him what choyce of death he pleas'd,
But told him dye he must: when straight the armour
Of his so boasted fortitude, fel off
Throwes away the booke.
Complaining of his frailtie. Can it then
Be censur'd womanish weaknesse in mee, if
Thus clog'd with yrons, and the period
To close up all calamities, deni'd mee,
(Which was presented Senica) I wish
I ne'r had being, at least, never knew
What happines was, or argue with heavens justice?
Tearing my locks, and in defiance throwing
Dust in the ayre? or falling on the ground, thus
With my nayles, and teeth to digge a grave or rend
The bowells of the earth, my stepmother,
And not a naturall parent? or thus practise
To dye, and as I were insensible,
Believe I had no motion.

lies on his face
Enter Gonzaga Adorn. Iaylor.
Gonz.
There he is:
Ile not enquire by whom his ransome's pai'd
I am satisfi'd that I have it: nor alleage
One reason to excuse his cruell usage,
As you may interpret it, let it suffice
It was my will to have it so, he is yours now,
Dispose of him as you please
Exit Gonzaga.

Adorn.
How e'r I hate him,
As one preferr'd before me, being a man,
He does deserve my pitty. Sir, he sleepes:
Or is he dead? would hee were a Saint in heaven;
'Tis is all the hurt I wish him. But was not
Kneeles by him.
Borne to such happinesse. No he breaths, come neer,
And if't be possible, without his feeling
Take off his yrons, so, now leave us privat
[His yrons taken off.
He does begin to stir, and as transported
Exit Iaylor.
With a joyfull dreame, how he stares! and feeles his legges,
As yet uncertaine, whether it can be
True or phantasticall.

Ber.
Ministers of mercy
Mocke not calamitie. Ha! 'tis no vision!
Or if it be, the happiest that ever
Appear'd to sinfull flesh! who's here? His face
Speakes him Adorni! but some glorious Angell
Concealing its divinity in his shape,
Hath done this miracle, it being not an act
For wolvish man. Resolve me, if thou look'st for
Bent knees in adoration?

Adorn.
O forbeare Sir,
I am Adorni, and the instrument
Of your deliverance; but the benefit
You owe another.

Ber.
If he has a name,
Assoone as spoken, 'tis writ on my heart,
I am his bond-man.

Ador.
To the shame of men,
This great act is a womans.

Ber.
The whole sex
For her sake must be deifi'd. How I wander
In my imagination, yet cannot
Ghesse who this Phœnix should be!

Ador.
'Tis Camiola.

Ber.
Pray you speake't againe, there's musicke in her name
Once more I pray you Sir.

Ador.
Camiola,
The Maid of honor.

Ber.
Curs'd Atheist that I was,
Onely to doubt it could be any other,
Since she alone in the abstract of her selfe,
That small, but ravishing substance comprehends
What ever it, or can be wished, in the
Iudea of a woman. O what service,
Or sacrifice of duty can I pay her!
If not to live, and dye her charities slave,
Which is resolv'd already.

Adorn.
She expects not
Such a dominion ore you: yet ere I
Deliver her demands, give me your hand:
On this, as she enjoyn'd me, with my lips
I print her love and service by me sent you,

Bert.
I am orewhelm'd with wonder!

Ador.
You must now
(Which is the sum of all that she desires)
By a solemne contract bind your selfe, when she
Requires it as a debt, due for your fredome
To marrie her.

Ber.
This does ingage me further,
A payment! an increase of obligation!
To marry her! 'twas my nil ultra ever!
The end of my ambition! O that now
The holy man, she present, were prepar'd
To joyne our hands, but with that speed, my heart
Wishes, mine eyes might see her.

Adorn.
You must sweare this.

Ber.
Swear it? Collect all oaths, and imprecations
Whose least breach is damnation, and those
Ministred to me in a forme more dreadfull,
Set heaven, and hell before me, I will take 'em:
False to Camiola? Never. Shall I now
Begin my vowes to you?

Ador.
I am no Church-man,
Such a one must file it on record, you are free,
And that you may appeare like to your selfe
(For so she wish'd) her's gold with which you may
Redeeme your truncks and servants, and what ever
Of late you lost. I have found out the Captaine
Whose spoyle they were. His name is Roderigo.

Ber.
I know him.

Ador.
I have done my parts.

Ber.
So much Sir
As I am ever your's for't, now me thinkes
I walke in ayre! divine Camiola,
But words cannot expresse thee. I'll build to thee
An altar in my soule, on which I'll offer
A still increasing sacrifice of duty.
Exit Ber.

Ador.
What will become of me now is apparant!
Whether a poniard, or a halter be
The nearest way to hell (for I must thither,
After I have kill'd my selfe) is somewhat doubtfull?
This Roman resolution of selfe-murther,
Will not hold water, at the high Tribunall,
When it comes to be argu'd; my good Genius
Prompts me to this consideration. He
That kills himselfe, to avoid misery, feares it,
And at the best shewes but a bastard valour,
This lifes a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yeeld up, till it be forc'd,
Nor will I: Hee's not valiant that dares dy,
But he that boldly beares calamitie.

Exit