University of Virginia Library

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.