University of Virginia Library

ACTVS TERTIVS

SCENA PRIMA.

The Duke, Jacinta, in Climenes Garden.
Iacinta.
This is the Garden, Sir, where presently
My mistresse comes to walke her melancholie:
The griefe she taketh for her Lovers losse,
And her decayed health distracts her judgment;
Although the danger of her maladie
Be great, she walkes, and would even fly herselfe.
Be you assur'd her griefes will suddenlie
Conduct her here to weep her sad misfortunes,
And you may see her without witnesses,
And without trouble, if your Highnes please
To fetch a turne or two in this close Alley.

Duke.
Thy care augments my trouble, not my hope;
I burne, and feare to see her equallie:
I burne to see her when I represent
Vnto my amourous soule a charming Image
With all its beauties, and I feare to see her,
When my sad fancie represents unto me
The rigour of those faire offended eyes:
Tis an undoubted truth, I feare to see
That faire afflicted one to reproach me
The evills wherin my flame hath plunged her,
To say that hatred is the onelie fruite
Of my addresses, and that with my Rivall
My spirit is destroy'd.

Iacinta.
Your Highnesse, Sir
Should be prepar'd against the bloody taunts
Of a beblubbered Mistresse: to speak truelie,
And not to flatter you, I cannot see
The least hope that she will be wrought to love you
By this sweet way you take; I should advise you
Vnto another course, make use of force,
Where kindnes cannot work; ravish a good,
Which is denyed to you; take her hence,
Who is so foolish and so rigourous,
And force her to be happie gainst her will.

Duke.
How, take her hence by force? oh no, I cannot
Consent unto it, force can never be
Compatible with love, I would be lov'd
Without constraint, and cherish'd without feare.
So farre would her disdaine be by this meanes
From ceasing, that it would take deeper roote,
As having juster ground to propagate.

Iacinta.
Your reasons are not altogeither lawfull;
Our Sex, Sir, hath strang maximes, oftentimes
It feeles not what it doth expresse, and seldome
Loveth Deaths fatall wracks, after a fortune
Of such a nature, love in womans heart
Turnes unto griefe, and that griefe vanisheth:
Her oaths and cries are of no consequence,
Her passion dies, when th'object is no more.
Perhaps, Climene at this verie hower,
Feeles that ambition from loves ashes springs
Within her heart, and that she is prepar'd,
In spight of her just mourning to proferre
The glorious possessour of a throne
Before the sad inhabitant of a tomb.
And, possibly, wearied with her affliction,
She would be forced to embrace your love.

Duke.
To take her hence, and force her unto marriage,
Are the last meanes which I will try; before
I use towards her the least violence,
I'le see her.

Iacinta.
Sir, she comes there.

Duke.
How she studies,
And how her slow uncertaine paees speak
The violent troubles of her spirit, her palenes
Depaints her griefe.

Climene.
Leave me alone, and passe
Into that alley.

SCENA SECVNDA,

Climéné, Jacinta, The Duke.
Iacinta.
Madame,—

Climene.
Once againe
I say I will be private for a minute;
Retire, and leave me to my selfe.

Iacinta.
Bur if
The Duke.—

Climene.
Be gone, and speak no more of him,
His name is odious to me.

Duke.
How unfortunate
Am I?

Iacinta.
I tould you, sweetnes would doe nothing
Vpon that stubborne spirit.

Duke.
I will follow
Thy counsell, let us speedilie goe forth,
My presence would encrease her crueltie.

Iacinta.
For feare you should be seene, be pleas'd to stay
Till she goes in; till when I cannot hand sonelie
Draw you from hence; in the meane time your Highnes
May in those shadie walkes divert your sadnes.

SCENA TERTIA.

Climene
alone.
Thou which they say canst with facilitie
Act what includes impossibilitie,
Blind Guide, false Child which canst have no pretence
At all unto the state of innocence,
Tyrant of hearts, Love, wich hast boasted still
That Death submitts unto thy power and will.
Make her to know that she muades thy right
In robbing my Fabritio of the light
And cause him to returne againe, or give
Me passeport the Shades where he doth live.
The sweetest objects that now strike mine eyes,
Encrease the number of my miseries,
The Suune tells me Fabritio's but a shade,
The Lillies at his losse look black and fade,
Those Rose, Queen of the flowers, seemes to be
Stain'd with my Lovers blood, and neepes with me.
Deare Lover, thou sad object of my cries,
Whose image still dwells in my heart and eyes,
Reproach me not that I live yet to mourne,
After thy ashes sleep in their cold vrne,
Death without doubt ere now had joyned me
To thy sad shadovv, if I could agree
That thou shouldst dye within my heart, oh no
I cannot leave th'y adored Image goe.
Thy cruell Rivall when he murthered thee
In his conceit, mistook, and murthered me:
His furie was deceiv'd, not satisfied,
In cutting of thy dayes, Climene dyed,
The Duke betrayd his vowes, for I expire
In thy cold ashes, Thou liv'st in my fire.

Climene.
What's that I say, Thou livest in my fire,
Thy living Image is carv'd in my soule;
But those immortall characters, alas!
Which flatter me, are dead Fabritios.
Vnjust and rigourous fate, was't reasonable,
That death should sease him so neere marriage?
But why dispute I in such great misfortunes?
I'le suffer my sad sighes, forbid my teares,
And to enuenome my affliction,
I'le cease complaint, nourish my sorrow, and
By prudent cares for feare to weaken it,
I'le strengthen it within, Ile signalize
My griefes by silence better then by speech.
When one hath lost all who complaines, receaves
A kinde of comfort, therefore I'le forbeare;
Yes, my deare Lover: to deplore thy death
In stronger termes then plaints and exclamations
But what! I heare a fearfull noyse beneath me?
a noise under the Stage.
It seemeth that to joyne me to Fabritio
A sudden thnnder doth prepare it selfe
To come forth from the center of the earth:
The noyse redoubleth, and renued stroaks
Makes me believe that underneath my feet
They dig graves, I perceive the flowers to fall
The plants to be unrooted, the most setled
And firmest oakes to tremble; it is time
To fly hence, but I cannot, feare forbids me;
Heaven! the disorder growes, and the earth cleaves
Fabritio comes forth thence, my strengh failes here,
And I am almost dead with feare and weaknes.

SCENA QVARTA.

Fabritio Climene.
Fabritio comming out the Mine.
Fabritio.
Thanks unto Carlos, and in spight of destinie,
I hope to see Climene in this garden
But to conceale the meanes on't I must cover
Most carefullie the opening of the Mine:
Those stones, and those greene boughs will make the hole
Invisible, I need but seek the ingratefull,
Before I vent my anger; I'le reproach her
With my pass'd services, with her inconstancie,
And her false oaths; for feare my death should give her,
Some satisfaction, and to th'end t'afflict her,
I will appeare unto her, and protest
That I will live yet to abhorre her; yonder
I see that faire inconstant; but alas!
I see her pale, cold, and in dying posture;
At this sad object which confoundeth me,
A tender pittie doth succeed my passion;
And if this pittie caus'd by her misfortune,
Is not yet love, tis something, sure, that's neere it,
Climene thou faire object of the flame
which riseth up againe, when almost dead,
Cast yet a languishing look upon Fabritio;
For all thy anger and inconstancie,
I never sought any reveng gainst thee;
Returne, and if thou wilt not that I live,
At least with one sweet look honour my death:
I heare some comming, I must hide my selfe.
If I should goe into the Mine againe,
There's danger I mighr be surpris'd.

SCENA QUINTA.

The Duke, Climene.
Duke.
I have heard stroaks which troubled me much
The noise came from this side, let us advaunce
I see Climene, who steepes; but alas,
Vnparalel'd misfortune! she is dead,
And underneath a thick vaile, her faire eyes
Are shut up never to be opened:
Tyrannick destinie, by what law is it
That such a rare and exquisite beautie hath
So tragicall a fate, and that the Star
Of my nativitie, which hath produc'd
My sires, findes in its morne eternall night?
But I am in an errour; Master peece
Of all perfection, fate is innocent,
And I alone am guiltie, tis this arme,
This barbarous arme that hath tane hence my Mistresse
In murthering my Rivall.

Climene.
Oh, alas!

Duke.
She breathes, she breaths, and openeth her eyes
Love, be propitious to me.

Climene.
Is it thee,
My deare Fabritio, Fantasme of my soule,
Sweet Shadow of my Lover? what wilt thou?

Duke.
Her griefe distracts her judgment.

Climene.
Commest thou to reproach me suddenlie,
That thou hadst lived, if thou had'st not seene me,
And that the fire sometime so faire, which kindled
Our hearts with mutuall love, serv'd but to light thee
To descend to the grave?

Duke.
You are mistaken,
Adoreable Climene.

Climene.
Tell me then
The cause that brings thee. Com'st thou to solissit
My heart and arme a while yet to deferre
My death, unto the end to revenge thine!
Wil thou that this hād plung'd in the Dukes blood
Make my destruction just, and thine reveng'd
Speak speak; he shall not long be in condition
To triumph in thy death, in the midst of
His Court, and in the eyes of all Ferrara,
I'le peirce the bosom of that barbarous Prince.

Duke.
My heart feares but the stroaks of your faire eyes,
Know me, and recollect your wandering senses
The excesse of your sorrow wrongs you much.

Climene.
Whom doe I see?

Duke.
A Prince that loveth you.

Climene.
What fatall accident, what cruell destinie
Presenteth me, in stead of my Lover,
His murtherer, Sir, you must pardon me
This langvage, as a person highly injur'd:
I can no mor respect you: is it possible,
You are not fullie satisfied yet
In barbarouslie depriving me of him,
I lov'd more then my selfe, but you must come
To robb me of his Shadow?

Duke.
This vaine shadow
You speake of, is but an illusion
Form'd by your feare and your affliction;
And when I've dissipated from your fancie
This fatall image, you will finde that I
Have more advauntaged, then injur'd you.
For dead Fabritio, please you to remember,
That twas your interest made me punish him;
The insolent discoutse which he held forth,
Carried me justlie to that violence:
If I had spar'd him, I had injur'd you,
And if I had done lesse, I had lesse lou'd.

Climene.
By this accompt then I'm indebted to you
For giving, me the greatest of misfortunes,
In killing even before mine eyes the object
Which I adore, without whom the faire light
Is odious to me; you are much deceav'd
In your pretentions, you have gained nothing
In ruining a Rivall, and the art
Whicch you use to asperse his reputation,
Can't hinder him to live with in my soule:
Though this death which I feel livelie within me
Had not express'd so much hate and contempt
As you shew love and tendernes, I should
Have loved him so much as I hate you.

Duke.
I condemne not your just transports, but beare them,
He was your Lover, though he was my Rivall;
And I repent my rage in that I wrong'd
Your charming Image, printed in his soule:
I know that Rivall, which was odious to me,
Pleased your faire eyes more then I, his merit
Was that which onelie rendered him guiltie:
I hated him for being too amiable;
But in that hate, I fully did expresse
My love to you in offering you a heart,
And with that heart a crowne. But I offend you.
Your looks speak your disdaine. not to provoke you,
I leave you, and hope yet, that you will one day
Have lesse aversion for me.

Climene.
Time can never
Cure my disease, death onelie is its terme.

SCENA SEXTA.

Jacinta, Fabritio, Climene.
Fabritio.
I will approach, I see the Duke retire,
My rrouble is pass'd; and Climene lives;
But, heaven: who cometh here againe to crosse me?

Iacinta to Climene.
Iacinta.
The Funerall is comming.

Climene.
What, Fabritio's?

Fabritio.
It is Iacinta, I need not for her
Keep a loofe of.—

aside.
Iacinta.
Yes Madame, you may see
The coffin which encloseth your dead Lover
From your Balcony at this very instant:
His Father, who intends to celebrate
His mourning, honoureth Fabritios death
With funerall pompe, and whilst they carrie him
Vnto the Temple, yon may, if you please,
See that unfortunate body passe.

Climene.
I will so,
It is my last desire.

Fabritio, discovering himselfe.
Fabritio.
Enjoy it, Madame,
Behould heere the unfortunate Fabritio.

Iacinta.
Heaven! where shall I fly safely from this Fantasme.
I dare not stay.

—Iacinta flyes away.
Climene.
What! will Iacinta leave me?

Iacinta.
I have no other Mistresse now but feare.

Fabritin houlding Climene.
Fabritio.
False and ingratefull Beautie, doe you fly me?
This makes your lightnes. To appeare too much:
If any justice yet raignes in your soule,
After you have betray'd me, give me leave
To complaine my misfortune.

Climene.
I betray you?
What doe I heare, Heavens! how astonish'd am I
At this so strang event? if I may heere
Believe mine eyes, it is the living portrait
Of my Fabritio, but if I believe
His voice, it is but a deceitfull Fantasme
Of such a faitfull Lover:

Fabritio.
I am that verie Lover, who against
Your will could not, in losing all his hope,
Lose his life too; yes, I live yet, Ingratefull,
And feare I live for you still in despight
Of my just anger, I know not what power
Opposeth it, in steed of murmurring,
I sigh, and all the heat that rests with me
Resembles anger lesse then love.

Climene.
Now I
Begin againe to know Fabritio;
His heart in spight of him doth secretlie
Render me justice; and when the false mouth
Condemnes me, it seemes resolute in thought
That I am faithfull.

Fabritio.
Faithfull? oh it is
Vnto the Duke that this speech is addressd
He onelie is to hope for all your love.

Climene.
Canst thou impute those base thoughts unro me?

Fabritio.
They are truths, if I may believe your oathes;
I should doubt yet of this extreem misfortune,
If I had understood it from the mouth
Of any other but your selfe.

Climene.
An evill
When it is knowne, is easie to be cur'd;
I know thy errour, cease to be abus'd;
If the last fatall evening I express'd
Kind words unto the Duke, I did believe
That I discours'd to thee, and so upon
That faith all that I said to him, was wholie
Intended unto thee, thy onelie Image,
Which can possesse my heart, my memorie,
And all my senses with so much renowne.
Was onelie guiltie in that fatall moment,
If but a little blindnes may be said
To be a crime in Love.

Fabritio.
Vnto a Lover,
Whose soule resignes it selfe unto suspitions,
Any excuse is good ynough, and passeth,
A lye that pleaseth deceives pleasantlie,
And everie thing is easilie believ'd,
Which is desir'd; though all thy reasons were
As false as faire, so sweet it would be to me
To see my scares to end, and in my fancie
To flatter the affliction which thou
Might'st cause me, that thou wouldst oblige me stronglie
To make me yeild to be abus'd.

Climene.
Let thy heart be
Free from those Low suspitions; if thou wilt
Absent thee, I am readie heere to follow thee;
I'le manesest unto thee everie where
The clecrenes of my faith, be it to live,
Or dye with thee, let Heaven blesse, or deceive
Our expectations, I'le live satisfied,
Or dye content.

Fabritio.
What owe I—

Climene.
Thou ow'st nothing;
Nothing of thanks, in following thy desires,
I follow my owne sentiments; but how
Wer't thou secur'd?

Fabritio.
Fortune did favour me,
A straunger passing that night perished
Instead of me, and this Mine gives me meanes
From Carlos house to enter into thine.

Climene.
Thou mayst a while heere entertaine thy thoughts
In the meane I'le goe to fetch my Iewells:
Passe underneath this arbor, I believe
I heare a noyse; assoone as it is night,
I'le come to thee againe.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

Jacinta, Fabritio.
Fabritio.
If I am not deceiv'd, heere comes Iacinta,
Climene trusts her with her neerest secrets:
Fortune, it seemes, to day in everie point
Will be sweet to me, if I can oblige her
To goe away with us.

Iacinta.
Scarce freed yet
From my first feare, I tremblinglie returne
Vnto Climenes house: Fabritio
Was murthered through my meanes, and without doubt
He cometh to revenge himselfe upon me
From th'other world: my ruine were inevitable
If I should meet that fearefull Ghost againe.

Fabritio.
Stay.—

Iacinta.
Tis the Spirit, good God, I dye with feare!
Oh Genrle Fantasme, have compassion of me;
I doe confesse my fault, and promise faithfullie
N'er to betray you, nor my Mistresse more.

Fabritio.
Strang! but I must know more. Disguise me nothing,
If thou dost—

Iacinta.
Touch me not then, I beseech you,
And I will tell you all: tis true, I alwaies
Indeavoured to hurt you, that I studyed
To serve the Duke in his amours against you,
And that indead I was cause of your death.

Fabritio.
Pernstious spirit.—

Iacinta.
Enter not into furie,
This is not all yet, lend your eare, I pray you,
I had forgot to tell you that the Duke.
By my advise this day hath fix'd upon
Climenes rape, and that this verie evening
He will attempt this unjust enterprise,

Fabritio.
Horrid perfidiousnes!

Iacinta.
I have tould all my faults, now may it please you
That I leave you in peace: for know that nothing
Is so unpleasant to me as discourse
With people of another World. If you
Were not dead, you would be so good unto me,
To grant me pardon upon my repentance.

Fabritio.
It would not suite well with a generous spirit
To punish a weake woman. Goe.—

Iacinta.
Monsieur Fantasme,
God will receive your soule.
—Exit Iacinta.

Fabritio.
The Duke this night
Intends, it seemes, to take away Climene,
Heaven, must my hope be yet againe destroy'd?
But my heart leaves it selfe to be assaulted
With a vaine feare, seeing I am belov'd,
What should I doubt; nothing is strong ynou
To disunite two hearts which love hath joyn
This God doth miracles for those that be
His faithfull Votaries, and such are we.