University of Virginia Library

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.