 | The History of Antonio and Mellida |  |
ACTVS PRIMVS.
The Cornets sound a battle within.Enter Antonio, disguised like an Amazon.
An.
Heart, wilt not break! & thou abhorred life
Wilt thou still breath in my enraged bloud?
Vaines, synewes, arteries, why crack yee not?
Burst and diuul'st, with anguish of my griefe.
Can man by no meanes creepe out of himselfe,
And leaue the slough of viperous griefe behinde?
Antonio, hast thou seene a fight at sea,
As horrid as the hideous day of doome;
Betwixt thy father, duke of Genoa,
And proud Piero, the Venetian Prince?
In which the sea hath swolne with Genoas bloud,
And made spring tydes with the warme reeking gore,
That gusht from out our Gallies scupper holes;
In which, thy father, poore Andrugio,
Lyes sunk, or leapt into the armes of chaunce,
Choakt with the laboring Oceans brackish fome;
Who euen, despite Pieros cancred hate,
VVould with an armed hand haue seiz'd thy loue,
And linkt thee to the beautious Mellida.
Haue I outliu'd the death of all these hopes?
Haue I felt anguish pourd into my heart,
Burning like Balsamum in tender wounds;
And yet dost liue! could not the fretting sea
Haue rowl'd me vp in wrinkles of his browe?
That it will not accompany a wretch,
But I must needs be cast on Venice shoare?
And try new fortunes with this strange disguise?
To purchase my adored Mellida.
The Cornets sound a flourish: cease.
Harke how Piero's triumphs beat the ayre,
O rugged mischiefe how thou grat'st my heart!
Take spirit, blood, disguise, be confident:
Make a firme stand, here rests the hope of all,
Lower then hell, there is no depth to fall.
The Cornets sound a Synnet: Enter Feliche and Alberto, Castilio and Forobosco, a Page carying a shield: Piero in Armour: Catzo and Dildo and Balurdo: All these (sauing Piero) armed with Petronels: Beeing entred, they make a stand in diuided foyles.
Piero.
Victorious Fortune, with tryumphant hand,
Hurleth my glory 'bout this ball of earth,
Whil'st the Venetian Duke is heaued vp
On wings of faire successe, to ouer-looke
The low cast ruines of his enemies,
To see my selfe ador'd, and Genoa quake,
My fate is firmer then mischance can shake.
Feli.
Stand, the ground trembleth.
Piero.
Hah? an earthquake?
Ball.
Oh, I smell a sound.
Feli.
Piero stay, for I descry a fume,
Creeping from out the bosome of the deepe,
The breath of darkenesse, fatall when 'tis whist
Take heede shee'le lift thee to improuidence,
And breake thy necke from steepe securitie,
Shee'le make thee grudge to let Iehoua share
In thy successefull battailes: O, shee's ominous,
Inticeth princes to deuour heauen,
Swallow omnipotence, out-stare dread fate,
Subdue Eternitie in giant thought,
Heaues vp their hurt with swelling, puft conceit,
Till their soules burst with venom'd Arrogance:
Beware Piero, Rome it selfe hath tried,
Confusions traine blowes vp this Babell pride.
Pier.
Pish, Dimitto superos, summa votorum attigi.
Alberto, hast thou yeelded vp our fixt decree
Vnto the Genoan Embassadour?
Are they content if that their duke returne,
To send his, and his sonne Antonios head,
As pledges steept in bloud, to gaine their peace?
Alb.
With most obsequious, sleek-brow'd intertain,
They all embrace it as most gratious.
Pier.
Are Proclamations sent through Italy,
That whosoeuer brings Andrugios head,
Or young Anthonios, shall be guerdoned
With twentie thousand double Pistolets,
And be indeened to Pieros loue?
Forob.
They are sent euery way: sound policy.
Sweete Lord.
Fel.
Confusion to these limber Sycophants.
No sooner mischief's borne in regenty,
But flattery christens it with pollicy.
tacitè
VVhy then: O me Celitum excelsissimum!
The intestine malice, and inueterate hate
I alwaies bore to that Andrugio,
Glories in triumph ore his misery:
Nor shall that carpet-boy Antonio
Match with my daughter, sweet cheekt Mellida.
No, the publick power makes my faction strong.
Fel.
Ill, when publick power strēgthneth priuate wrōg.
Pie.
Tis horse-like, not for man, to know his force.
Fel.
Tis god-like, for a man to feele remorse.
Pie.
Pish, I prosecute my families reuenge,
VVhich Ile pursue with such a burning chace
Till I haue dri'd vp all Andrugios bloud;
VVeake rage, that with slight pittie is withstoode.
The Cornets sound a florish.
VVhat meanes that fresh triumphall florish sound?
Alb.
The prince of Millane, and young Florence heir
Approach to gratulate your victorie.
Pie.
VVeele girt them with an ample waste of loue;
Conduct them to our presence royally.
Let vollies of the great Artillery
From of our gallies banks play prodigall,
And soūd lowd welcome frō their bellowing mouths.
Exit Piero tantùm.
The Cornets sound a Cynet. Enter aboue, Mellida, Rossaline and Flauia: Enter belowe, Galeatzo with attendants: Piero meeteth him, embraceth; at which the Cornets sound a florish: Piero and Galeatzo exeunt: the rest stand still.
Mell.
VVhat prince was that passed through my fathers guard?
Twas Galeatzo, the young Florentine.
Ros.
Troth, one that will besiege thy maidenhead,
Enter the wals yfaith (sweet Mellida)
If that thy flankers be not Canon proofe.
Mell.
Oh Mary Ambree, good, thy iudgement wench;
Thy bright electious cleere, what will he prooue?
Ross.
Hath a short finger and a naked chinne;
A skipping eye, dare lay my iudgement (faith)
His loue is glibbery; there's no hold ont, wench:
Giue me a husband whose aspect is firme,
A full cheekt gallant, with a bouncing thigh:
Oh, he is the Paradizo dell madonne contento.
Mell.
Euen such a one was my Antonio.
The Cornets sound a Cynet.
Rossa.
By my nine and thirteth seruant (sweete)
Thou art in loue, but stand on tiptoed faire,
Here comes Saint Tristram Tirlery whiffe yfaith.
Enter Matzagente, Piero meetes him, embraceth; at which the Cornets sound a florish: they two stand, vsing seeming complements, whilst the Sceane passeth aboue.
Mell.
S. Marke, S. Marke, what kind of thing appears?
Ross.
For fancies passion, spit vpon him; figh:
His face is varnisht: in the name of loue,
VVhat country bred that creature?
Mell.
VVhat is he Flauia?
Fla.
The heire of Millane, Segnior Matzagent.
Ross.
Matzagent? now by my pleasures hope,
He is made like a tilting staffe; and lookes
For all the world like an ore-rosted pigge:
A great Tobacco taker too, thats flat.
In the smoake of his nose.
Mell.
What husband, wil he prooue sweete Rossaline?
Ross.
Auoid him: for he hath a dwindled legge,
A lowe forehead, and a thinne cole-black beard,
And will be iealous too, beleeue it sweete:
For his chin sweats, and hath a gander neck,
A thinne lippe, and a little monkish eye:
Pretious, what a slender waste he hath!
He lookes like a May-pole, or a notched stick:
Heele snap in two at euery little straine.
Giue me a husband that will fill mine armes,
Of steddie iudgement, quicke and nimble sense:
Fooles relish not a Ladies excellence.
Exeunt all on the lower Stage: at which the Cornets sound a florish, and a peale of shot is giuen.
Mell.
The tryumph's ended, but looke Rossaline,
What gloomy soule in strange accustrements
Walkes on the pauement.
Rossa.
Good sweete lets to her, pree the Mellida.
Mell.
How couetous thou art of nouelties!
Rossa.
Pish, tis our nature to desire things
That are thought strangers to the common cut.
Mell.
I am exceeding willing, but—
Ross.
But what? pree the goe downe, lets see her face:
God send that neither wit nor beauty wants
Those tempting sweets, affections Adamants.
Exeunt.
Anto.
Come downe, she comes like: O, no Simile
Is pretious, choyce, or elegant enough
To illustrate her descent: leape heart, she comes,
Kisse her cheeke gently with perfumed breath.
She comes: Creations puritie, admir'd,
Ador'd, amazing raritie, she comes.
O now Antonio presse thy spirit forth
In following passion, knit thy senses close,
Heape vp thy powers, double all thy man:
Enter Mellida, Rossaline, and Flauia.
She comes. O how her eyes dart wonder on my heart!
Mount bloode, soule to my lips, tast Hebes cup:
Stand firme on decke, when beauties close fight's vp.
Mel.
Ladie, your strange habit doth beget
Our pregnant thoughts, euen great of much desire,
To be acquaint with your condition.
Rossa.
Good sweete Lady, without more ceremonies,
What country claims your birth, & sweet your name?
Anto.
In hope your bountie will extend it selfe,
In selfe same nature of faire curtesie,
Ile shunne all nicenesse; my nam's Florizell,
My country Scythia, I am Amazon,
Cast on this shore by furie of the sea.
Ross.
Nay faith, sweete creature, weele not vaile our names.
It pleas'd the Font to dip me Rossaline:
That Ladie beares the name of Mellida,
The duke of Venice daughter.
Anto.
Madam, I am oblig'd to kisse your hand,
By imposition of a now dead man.
To Mellida kissing her hand.
Rossa.
Now by my troth, I long beyond all thought,
To know the man; sweet beauty deigne his name.
Ladie, the circumstance is tedious.
Ros.
Troth not a whit; good faire, lets haue it all:
I loue not, I, to haue a iot left out,
If the tale come from a lou'd Orator.
Anto.
Vouchsafe me then your hush't obseruances.
Vehement in pursuite of strange nouelties,
After long trauaile through the Asian maine,
I shipt my hopefull thoughts for Britany;
Longing to viewe great natures miracle,
The glorie of our sex, whose fame doth strike
Remotest eares with adoration.
Sayling some two monthes with inconstant winds,
We view'd the glistering Venetian forts;
To which we made: when loe, some three leagues off,
We might descry a horred spectacle:
The issue of black fury strow'd the sea,
With tattered carcasses of splitted ships,
Halfe sinking, burning, floating, topsie turuie.
Not farre from these sad ruines of fell rage,
We might behold a creature presse the waues;
Senselesse he sprauld, all notcht with gaping wounds:
To him we made, and (short) we tooke him vp:
The first word that he spake was, Mellida;
And then he swouned.
Mell.
Aye me!
Anto.
Why sigh you, faire?
Ross.
Nothing but little humours: good sweet, on.
Anto.
His wounds being drest, and life recouered,
We gan discourse; when loe, the sea grewe mad,
His bowels rumbling with winde passion,
And blurd the iocund face of bright cheekt day;
Whilst crudl'd fogges masked euen darknesse brow:
Heauen bad's good night, and the rocks gron'd
At the intestine vprore of the maine.
Now gustie flawes strook vp the very heeles
Of our maine mast, whilst the keene lightning shot
Through the black bowels of the quaking ayre:
Straight chops a waue, and in his sliftred panch
Downe fals our ship, and there he breaks his neck:
Which in an instant vp was belkt againe.
VVhen thus this martyrd soule began to sigh;
Giue me your hand (quoth he) now doe you graspe
Th'vnequall mirrour of ragg'd misery:
Is't not a horrid storme? O, well shap't sweete,
Could your quicke eye strike through these gashed woūds,
You should beholde a heart, a heart, faire creature,
Raging more wilde then is this franticke sea.
VVolt doe me a fauour, if thou chance suruiue?
But visit Venice, kisse the pretious white
Of my most; nay all all Epithites are base
To attribute to gratious Mellida:
Tell her the spirit of Antonio
VVisheth his last gaspe breath'd vpon her breast.
Ros.
VVhy weepes soft hearted Florisell?
Ant.
Alas, the flintie rocks groand at his plaints.
Tell her (quoth he) that her obdurate sire
Hath crackt his bosome; therewithall he wept,
And thus sigh't on. The sea is merciful;
Looke how it gapes to bury all my griefe:
My faith in my loue liue; in thee, dy woe,
Dye vnmatcht anguish, dye Antonio:
With that he totterd from the reeling decke,
And downe he sunke.
Ross.
Pleasures bodie, what makes my Lady weepe?
Mell.
Nothing, sweet Rossaline, but the ayer's sharpe.
My fathers Palace, Madam, will be proud
To entertaine your presence, if youle daine
To make repose within. Aye me!
Ant.
Ladie our fashion is not curious.
Ross.
Faith all the nobler, tis more generous.
Mell.
Shall I then know how fortune fell at last,
What succour came, or what strange fate insew'd?
Ant.
Most willingly: but this same court is vast,
And publike to the staring multitude.
Rossa.
Sweet Lady, nay good sweet, now by my troth
VVeele be bedfellowes: durt on complement froth.
Exeunt; Rossaline giuing Antonio the way.
| The History of Antonio and Mellida | |