University of Virginia Library

ACT. II.

SCEN. I.

The Cornets sound a cynet.
Enter two mourners with torches, two with streamers: Castilio & Forobosco, with torches: a Heralde bearing Andrugio's helme & sword, the coffin: Maria supported by Lucio and Alberto, Antonio by himselfe: Piero, and Strozzo talking: Galeatzo and Matzagente, Balurdo & Pandulfo: the coffin set downe: helme, sworde, and streamers hung vp, placed by the Herald: whil'st Antonio and Maria wet their handkerchers with their teares, kisse them, and lay them on the hearse, kneeling: all goe out but Piero. Cornets cease, and he speakes.
Pie.
Rot ther thou cearcloth that infolds the flesh
Of my loath'd foe; moulder to crūbling dust:
Obliuion choake the passage of thy fame.
Trophees of honor'd birth droppe quickly downe:
Let naught of him, but what was vitious, liue.
Though thou art deade, thinke not my hate is dead:
I haue but newly twone my arme in the curld locks
Of snakie vengeance. Pale beetle-brow'd hate
But newly bustles vp. Sweet wrong, I clap thy thoughts.
O let me hug my bosome, rub my breast,
In hope of my what may happe. Andrugio rots:
Antonio liues: vmh: how long? ha, ha; how long?
Antonio packt hence, Ile his mother wed,
Then cleare my daughter of supposed lust,
Wed her to Florence heire. O excellent.
Venice, Genoa, Florence, at my becke,
At Piero's nod, Balurdo, ô ho.
O, twill be rare, all vnsuspected donne.
I haue bin nurst in blood, and still haue suckt
The steeme of reeking gore. Balurdo, ho?

Enter Balurdo with a beard, halfe of, halfe on.
Ba.

When my beard is on, most noble prince, when
my beard is on.

Pier.

Why, what dost thou with a beard?

Ba.

In truth, one tolde me that my wit was balde, &
that a Meremaide was halfe fish, and halfe fish: and
therefore to speake wisely, like one of your counsell,
as indeede it hath pleased you to make me, not onely
being a foole, of your counsell, but also to make me of
your counsell, being a foole; If my wit be bald, and a
Mermaid be halfe fish and halfe cunger, then I must be
forced to conclude the tyring man hath not glewd
on my beard halfe fast, enough. Gods bores, it wil not
stick to fal off.

Pie.

Dost thou know what thou hast spoken all this while?

Ba.

O Lord Duke, I would be sorie of that. Many
men can vtter that which, no man, but themselues can
conceiue: but I thanke a good wit, I haue the gift to
speake that which neither any man els, nor my selfe
vnderstands—

Pi.

Thou art wise. He that speaks he knows not what,
shal neuer sin against his own conscience: go to, thou

art wise.

Ba.

Wise? O no. I haue a little naturall discretion, or
so: but for wise, I am somewhat prudent: but for wise,
ô Lord.

Pie,

Hold, take those keyes, open the Castle vault, &
put in Mellida.

Bal.
And put in Mellida? well, let me alone.

Pi.
Bid Forobosco, and Castilio guard,
Indeere thy selfe Piero's intimate.

Bal.

Indeere, and intimate: good, I assure you. I will
indeere and intimate Mellida into the dūgeon presētly.

Pie.

Will Pandulfo Feliche waite on me?

Ba.

I will make him come, most retort and obtuse, to
you presently. I thinke, sir Ieffrey talks like a counseller.
Go to, gods neaks, I thinke I tickle it.

Pie.
Ile seeme to winde yon foole with kindest arme.
He that's ambitious minded, and but man,
Must haue his followers beasts, dubd slauish sots:
Whose seruice is obedience, and whose wit
Reacheth no further then to admire their Lord,
And stare in adoration of his worth.
I loue, a slaue rak't out of common mud
Should seeme to sit in counsell with my heart.
High honour'd blood's too squemish to assent,
And lend a hand to an ignoble act.
Poyson from roses who could ere abstract?
How now Pandulfo, weeping for thy sonne?

SCENA SECVNDA.

Enter Pandulfo.
Pan.
No no, Piero, weeping for my sinnes:
Had I bin a good father, he had bin a gratious sonne.

Pie.
Pollution must be purg'd.

Pan.
Why taintst thou then the ayre with stench of flesh,
And humane putrifactions noysome sent?
I pray his bodie. Who lesse boone can craue,
Than to bestowe vpon the deade, his graue?

Pie.
Graue? why? think'st thou he deserues a graue,
That hath defil'd the temple of

Pan.
Peace, peace:
Me thinks I heare a humming murmur creepe
From out his gelli'd wounds. Looke on those lips,
Those now lawne pillowes, on whose tender softnesse,
Chaste modest speach, stealing from out his breast,
Had wont to rest it selfe, as loath to poast
From out so faire an Inne: look, look, they seeme to stir,
And breath defyance to black obloquie.

Pie.
Think'st thou thy sonne could suffer wrongfully?

Pan.
A wise man wrongfully, but neuer wrong
Can take: his breast's of such well tempered proofe,
It may be rac'd, not pearc't by sauage tooth
Of foaming malice: showers of dartes may darke
Heauens ample browe: but not strike out a sparke;
Much lesse pearce the Suns cheek. Such songs as these,
I often dittied till my boy did sleepe:
But now I turne plaine foole (alas) I weepe.

Pie.
Fore heauen he makes me shrug: wold a were deade:
He is a vertuous man. What has our court to doe
With vertue, in the diuels name! Pandulpho, harke.
My lustfull daughter dies: start not, she dies.
I pursue iustice, I loue sanctitie,
And an vndefiled temple of pure thoughts.
Shall I speake freely? Good Andrugio's dead:
And I doe feare a fetch; but (vmh) would I durst speake.
I doe mistrust; but (vmh) death: is he all, all man:
Hath he no part of mother in him, ha?
No licorish womanish inquisitiuenesse?

Pan.
Andrugio's deade!

Pie.
I, and I feare, his owne vnnaturall blood,
To whome he gaue life, hath giuen death for life.
How could he come on, I see false suspect
Is vicde; wrung hardly in a vertuous heart.
Well, I could giue you reason for my doubts.
You are of honour'd birth, my very friende.
You know how god-like tis to roote out sin.
Antonio is a villaine. Will you ioyne
In oath with me, against the traitors life,
And sweare, you knewe, he sought his fathers death?
I lou'd him well, yet I loue iustice more:
Our friends we should affect, iustice adore.

Pan.
My Lord, the clapper of my mouth's not glibd
With court oyle, twill not strike on both sides yet.

Pie.
Tis iust that subiectes acte commaunds of kings.

Pan.
Commaund then iust and honorable things,

Pie.
Euen so my selfe then will traduce his guilt.

Pan.
Beware, take heed least guiltlesse blood be spilt.

Pie.
Where onely honest deeds to kings are free,
It is no empire, but a beggery.

Pan.
Where more than noble deeds to kings are free,
It is no empire, but a tyranny.

Pie.
Tush iuicelesse graybeard, tis immunity,
Proper to princes, that our state exactes,
Our subiects not alone to beare, but praise our acts.

Pan.
O, but that prince that worthfull praise aspires,
From hearts, and not from lips, applause desires.

Pie.
Pish, true praise, the brow of common men doth ring,
False, only girts the temple of a king,
He that hath strength, and's ignorant of power,
He was not made to rule, but to be rul'd.

Pan.
Tis praise to doe, not what we can, but should.

Pie.
Hence doting Stoick: by my hope of blisse,
Ile make thee wretched.

Pan.
Defyance to thy power, thou rifted Iawne.
Now, by the lou'd heauen, sooner thou shalt
Rince thy foule ribs from the black filth of sinne,
That soots thy heart, then make me wretched. Pish,
Thou canst not coupe me vp. Hadst thou a Iaile
With trebble walles, like antick Babilon,
Pandulpho can get out. I tell thee Duke,
I haue ould Fortunatus wishing cappe:
And can be where I list, euen in a trice.
Ile skippe from earth into the armes of heauen:
And from tryumphall arch of blessednesse,
Spit on thy froathy breast. Thou canst not slaue
Or banish me; I will be free at home,
Maugre the bearde of greatnesse. The port holes
Of sheathed spirit are nere corb'd vp:
But still stand open readie to discharge
Their pretious shot into the shrowds of heauen.

Pie.
O torture! slaue, I banish thee the towne,
Thy natiue seate of birth.

Pa.
How proud thou speak'st! I tell thee Duke, the blasts
Of the swolne cheekt winds, nor all the breath of kings
Can puffe me out my natiue seat of birth.
The earth's my bodies, and the heauen's my soules
Most natiue place of birth, which they will keepe:
Despite the menace of mortalitie—
Why Duke:
That's not my natiue place, where I was rockt.
A wise mans home is wheresoere he is wise.
Now that, from man, not from the place doth rise.

Pie.
Wold I were deafe (ô plague) hence dotard wretch:
Tread not in court. All that thou hast, I seize.
His quiet's firmer then I can disease.

Pan.
Goe, boast vnto thy flattring Sycophants;
Pandulpho's slaue, Piero hath orethrowne.
Loose Fortunes rags are lost; my owne's my owne.
Piero's going out, lookes backe, Exeunt at seuerall doores.
Tis true Piero, thy vext heart shall see,
Thou hast but tript my slaue, not conquerd mee.

SCENA TERTIA.

Enter Antonio with a booke, Lucio, Alberto, Antonio in blacke.
Alb.
Nay sweet be comforted, take counsell and

Ant.
Alberto, peace: that griefe is wanton sick,
Whose stomacke can digest and brooke the dyet
Of stale ill relisht counsell. Pigmie cares
Can shelter vnder patience shield: but gyant griefes
Will burst all couert.

Lu.
My Lord, tis supper time.

Ant.
Drinke deepe Alberto: eate, good Lucio:
But my pin'd heart shall eat on naught but woe.

Alb.
My Lord, we dare not leaue you thus alone.

Ant.
You cannot leaue Antonio alone.
The chamber of my breast is euen throngd,
With firme attendance, that forsweares to flinch.
I haue a thing sits here; it is not griefe,
Tis not despaire, nor the most plague
That the most wretched are infected with:
But the most greefull, despairing, wretched,
Accursed, miserable. O, for heauens sake
Forsake me now; you see how light I am,
And yet you force me to defame my patience.

Lu.
Faire gentle prince

Ant.
Away, thy voice is hatefull: thou dost buzze,
And beat my eares with intimations
That Mellida, that Mellida is light,
And stained with adulterous luxury:
I cannot brook't. I tell the Lucio,
Sooner will I giue faith, that vertue's scant
In princes courts, will be adorn'd with wreath
Of choyce respect, and indeerd intimate.
Sooner will I beleeue that friendships raine.
Will curbe ambition from vtilitie,
Then Mellida is light. Alas poore soule,
Didst ere see her (good heart) hast heard her speake?
Kinde, kinde soule. Incredulitie it selfe
Would not be so brasse hearted, as suspect so modest cheeks

Lu.
My Lord

Ant.
Away, a selfe-one guilt doth onely hatch distrust:
But a chaste thought's as farre from doubt, as lust.
I intreat you leaue me.

Alb.
Will you endeauour to forget your griefe?

Ant.
I faith I will, good friend, I faith I will.
Ile come and eate with you. Alberto, see,
I am taking Physicke, heer's Philosophie.
Good honest leaue me, Ile drinke wine anone.

Alb.
Since you enforce vs, faire prince, we are gone.

Exeunt Alberto and Lucio.
Antonio reades.
A.

Ferte fortiter: hoc est quo deum antecedatis. Ille enim extra
patientiam malorum; vos supra. Contemnite dolorem: aut
soluetur, aut soluet. Contemnite fortunā: nullū telū, quo
feriret animum habet.

Mell.
Aye me.

Ant.
And curse.

Pan.
Black powers.

Ant.
And cry.

Ma.
O heauen.

Ant.
And close laments with

Alb.
O me most miserable.

Pan.
Woe for my deare deare sonne.

Mar.
Woe for my deare, deare husband.

Mel.
Woe for my deare deare loue.

Ant.
Woe for me all, close all your woes in me:
In me Antonio, ha? Where liue these sounds?
I can see nothing; griefe's inuisible,
And lurkes in secret angles of the heart.
Come sigh againe, Antonio beares his part.

Mell.
O here, here is a vent to passe my sighes.
I haue surcharg'd the dungeon with my plaints.
Prison, and heart will burst, if void of vent.
I, that is Phœbe, empresse of the night,
That gins to mount; ô chastest deitie:
If I be false to my Antonio,
If the least soyle of lust smeers my pure loue,
Make me more wretched, make me more accurst
Then infamie, torture, death, hell and heauen
Can bound with amplest power of thought: if not,
Purge my poore heart, with defamations blot.

Ant.
Purge my poore heart from defamations blot!
Poore heart, how like her vertuous selfe she speakes.
Mellida, deare Mellida, it is Antonio:
Slinke not away, tis thy Antonio.

Mel.
How found you out, my Lord (alas) I knowe
Tis easie in this age, to finde out woe.
I haue a sute to you.

Ant.
What is't, deare soule?

Mell.
Kill me, I faith Ile winke, not stir a iot.
For God sake kill mee: insooth, lou'd youth,
I am much iniur'd; looke, see how I creepe.
I cannot wreake my wrong, but sigh and weepe.

An.
May I be cursed, but I credit thee.

Mell.
To morrowe I must die.

An.
Alas, for what?

Mell.
For louing thee; tis true my sweetest breast.
I must die falsely: so must thou, deare heart.
Nets are a knitting to intrappe thy life.
Thy fathers death must make a Paradice
To my (I shame to call him) father. Tell me sweet,
Shall I die thine? dost loue mee still, and still?

Ant.
I doe.

Mell.
Then welcome heauens will.

Ant.

Madam, I will not swell like a Tragedian, in forced
passion of affected straines.

If I had present power of ought but pittying you, I
would be as readie to redresse your wrongs, as to pursue
your loue. Throngs of thoughts crowde for their
passage, somewhat I will doe.

Reach me thy hand: thinke this is honors bent,
To liue vnslau'd, to die innocent.

Mel.
Let me entreat a fauour, gratious loue.
Be patient, see me die, good doe not weepe:
Goe sup, sweete chuck, drinke, and securely sleepe.

Ant.
I faith I cannot, but Ile force my face
To palliate my sicknesse.

Mell.
Giue me thy hand. Peace on thy bosome dwel:
Thats all my woe can breath: kisse. Thus farewell.

Ant.
Farewell: my heart is great of thoughts,
Stay doue:
And therefore I must speake: but what? ô Loue!
By this white hand: eno more: reade in these teares,
What crushing anguish thy Antonio beares.

Antonio kisseth Mellida's hand: then Mellida goes from the grate.
Mel.
God night good harte,

Ant.
Thus heate from blood, thus soules from bodies part.

Enter Piero and Strozzo.
Pie.
He greeues, laughe Strozzo: laugh, he weepes.
Hath he teares? ô pleasure! hath he teares?
Now doe I scourge Andrugio with steele whips
Of knottie vengeance. Strozzo, cause me straight
Some plaining dittie to augment despaire.
Tryumph Piero: harke, he groanes, ô rare!

Ant.
Beholde a prostrate wretch laid on his toumbe.
His Epitaph, thus; Ne plus vltra. Ho.
Let none out woe me: mine's Herculean woe.

CANTANT.
Exit Piero at the end of the song.

SCENA QVARTA.

Enter Maria.
Ant.
May I be more cursed then heauen can make me;
If I am not more wretched
Then man can conceiue me. Sore forlorne
Orphant, what omnipotence can make thee happie?

Mar.
How now sweete sonne? good youth,
what dost thou?

Ant.
Weepe, weepe.

Mar.
Dost naught but weepe, weepe?

Ant.
Yes mother, I do sigh, and wring my hands,
Beat my poore breast, and wreath my tender armes.
Harke yee; Ile tel you wondrous strange, strāge news.

Ma.
What my good boy, starke mad?

Ant.
I am not.

Ma.
Alas, is that strange newes?

Ant.
Strange news? why mother, is't not wondrous strange
I am not mad? I run not frantick, ha?
Knowing my fathers trunke scarce colde, your loue
Is sought by him that doth pursue my life?
Seeing the beautie of creation,
Antonio's bride, pure heart, defam'd, and stoad
Vnder the hatches of obscuring earth.
Heu quo labor, quo vota ceciderunt mea!

Enter Piero.
Pie.
Good euening to the faire Antonio,
Most happie fortune, sweete succeeding time,
Rich hope: think not thy fate a bankrout though

Ant.

Vmh, the diuell in his good time and tide forsake
thee.

Pie.
How now? harke yee Prince.

An.
God be with you.

Pie.
Nay, noble blood, I hope yee not suspect

An.
Suspect, I scorn't. Here's cap & leg; good night:
Thou that wants power, with dissemblance fight.
Exit Antonio.

Pier.
Madam, O that you could remēber to forget

Ma.
I had a husband and a happie sonne.

Pi.
Most powreful beautie, that inchanting grace

Ma.
Talke not of beautie, nor inchanting grace.
My husband's deade, my son's distraught, accurst.
Come, I must vent my griefes, or heart will burst.
Exit Maria.

Pie.
Shee's gone (& yet she's here) she hath left a print
Of her sweete graces fixt within my heart,
As fresh as is her face. Ile marrie her.
Shee's most fair, true, most chaste, most false: because
Most faire, tis firme Ile marrie her.

SCENA QVINTA.

Enter Strotzo.
Str.
My Lord,

Piero.
Ha, Strotzo, my other soule, my life,
Deare, hast thou steel'd the point of thy resolue?
Wilt not turne edge in execution?

Str.
No.

Pie.
Doe it with rare passion, and present thy guilt,
As if twere wrung out with thy conscience gripe.
Sweare that my daughter's innocent of lust,
And that Antonio brib'd thee to defame
Her maiden honour, on inueterate hate
Vnto my bloode; and that thy hand was feed
By his large bountie, for his fathers death.
Sweare plainly that thou chok'tst Andrugio,
By his sons onely egging. Rush me in
Whil'st Mellida prepares her selfe to die:
Halter about thy necke, and with such sighs,
Laments and acclamations lyfen it,
As if impulsiue power of remorse.

Str.
Ile weepe.

Pie.
I, I, fall on thy face and cry; why suffer you
So lewde a slaue as Strotzo is to breath?

Str.
Ile beg a strangling, growe importunate

Pie.
As if thy life were loathsome to thee: then I
Catch straight the cords end; and, as much incens'd
With thy damn'd mischiefes, offer a rude hand,
As readie to girde in thy pipe of breath:
But on the sodaine straight Ile stand amaz'd,
And fall in exclamations of thy vertues.

Str.
Applaud my agonies, and penitence.

Pie.
Thy honest stomack, that could not disgest
The crudities of murder: but surcharg'd,
Vomited'st them vp in Christian pietie.

Str.
Then clip me in your armes.

Pie.
And call thee brother, mount thee straight to state,
Make thee of counsell; tut, tut, what not, what not?
Thinke ont, be confident, pursue the plot.

Str.
Looke here's a troop, a true rogues lips are mute.
I doe not vse to speake, but execute.

He layes finger on his mouth, and drawes his dagger.
Pie.
So, so; run headlong to confusion:
Thou slight brain'd mischiefe, thou art made as durt,
To plaster vp the bracks of my defects.
Ile wring what may be squeas'd from out his vse:
And good night Strozzo. Swell plump bold heart.
For now thy tide of vengeance rowleth in:
O now Tragœdia Cothurnata mounts.
Piero's thoughts are fixt on dire exploites.
Pell mell: confusion, and black murder guides
The organs of my spirit: shrinke not heart.
Capienda rebus in malis præceps via est.