Antonio's Reuenge The second part |
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| 2. | SCENA SECVNDA. |
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 | Antonio's Reuenge |  |
SCENA SECVNDA.
Enter Maria, her haire about her eares: Nutriche, and Lucio, with Pages, and torches.Ma.
VVhere left you him? shewe mee good boyes, away.
Nut.
Gods mee, your haire.
Ma.
Nurse, tis not yet prowde day:
The neat gay mistes of the light's not vp,
Her cheekes not yet flurd ouer with the paint
Of borrowed crimsone; the vnpranked world
Wears yet the night-cloathes: let flare my loosed hair.
I scorne the presence of the night.
Where's my boy? Run: Ile range about the Church,
Like frantick Bachanell, or Iasons wife,
Inuoking all the spirits of the graues,
To tell me where. Hah? O my poore wretched blood,
What dost thou vp at midnight, my kinde boy?
Deare soule, to bed: ô thou hast struck a fright
Vnto thy mothers panting
The neat gay mistes of the light's not vp,
Her cheekes not yet flurd ouer with the paint
Of borrowed crimsone; the vnpranked world
I scorne the presence of the night.
Where's my boy? Run: Ile range about the Church,
Like frantick Bachanell, or Iasons wife,
Inuoking all the spirits of the graues,
To tell me where. Hah? O my poore wretched blood,
What dost thou vp at midnight, my kinde boy?
Deare soule, to bed: ô thou hast struck a fright
Vnto thy mothers panting
O quisquis noua
Supplicia functis dirus vmbrarum arbiter
Disponis, quisquis exeso iaces
Pauidus sub antri, quisquis venturi times
Montis ruinam, quisquis auidorum feres,
Rictus leonum, & dira furiarum agmina
Implicitus horres, Antonii vocem excipe
Properantis ad vos Vlciscar.
Supplicia functis dirus vmbrarum arbiter
Disponis, quisquis exeso iaces
Pauidus sub antri, quisquis venturi times
Montis ruinam, quisquis auidorum feres,
Rictus leonum, & dira furiarum agmina
Implicitus horres, Antonii vocem excipe
Properantis ad vos Vlciscar.
Ma.
Alas my son's distraught. Sweete boy appease
Thy mutining affections.
Ant.
By the astonning terror of swart night,
By the infectious damps of clammie graues,
And by the mould that presseth downe
My deade fathers sculle: Ile be reueng'd.
Ma.
Wherefore? on whom? for what? go, go to bed
Good dutious sonne. Ho, but thy idle
An.
So I may sleepe toumb'd in an honour'd hearse,
So may my bones rest in that Sepulcher,
Ma.
Forget not dutie sonne: to bed, to bed.
An.
May I be cursed by my fathers ghost,
And blasted with incensed breath of heauen,
May I be numd with horror, and my vaines
Pucker with sing'ing torture, if my braine
Disgest a thought, but of dire vengeance:
May I be fetter'd slaue to coward Chaunce,
If blood, heart, braine, plot ought saue vengeance.
Ma.
Wilt thou to bed? I wonder when thou sleepst.
Ifaith thou look'st sunk-ey'd; go couch thy head:
Now faith tis idle: sweet, sweet sonne to bed.
Ant.
I haue a prayer or two, to offer vp,
For the good, good Prince, my most deare, dear Lord,
The Duke Piero, and your vertuous selfe:
And then when those prayers haue obtain'd successe,
In sooth Ile come (beleeue it now) and couch
My heade in downie moulde: but first Ile see
You safely laide. Ile bring yee all to bed.
Piero, Maria, Strotzo, Luceo,
Ile see you all laid: Ile bringe you all to bed,
And then, ifaith, Ile come and couch my head,
And sleepe in peace.
Ma.
Looke then, wee goe before.
Exeunt all but Antonio.
Ant.
I, so you must, before we touch the shore
Of wisht reuenge. O you departed soules,
That lodge in coffin'd trunkes, which my feet presse
(If Pythagorian Axiomes be true,
Of spirits transmigration) fleete no more
To humane bodies, rather liue in swine,
Inhabit wolues flesh, scorpions, dogs, and toads,
Rather then man. The curse of heauen raines
His mature age growes onely mature vice,
And ripens onely to corrupt and rot
The budding hopes of infant modestie.
Still striuing to be more then man, he prooues
More then a diuell, diuelish suspect, diuelish crueltie:
All hell-straid iuyce is powred to his vaines,
Making him drunke with fuming surquedries,
Contempt of heauen, vntam'd arrogance,
Lust, state, pride, murder.
And.
Murder.
Fel.
Murder.
Pa.
Murder.
From aboue and beneath.
Ant.
I, I will murder: graues and ghosts
Fright me no more, Ile suck red vengeance
Out of Pieros wounds Piero's wounds.
Enter two boyes, with Piero in his night gown & night cap.
Pie.
Maria, loue Maria: she tooke this Ile.
Left you her here? On lights away:
I thinke we shall not warme our beds to day.
Enter Iulio, Forobosco, and Castilio.
Iul.
Ho, father? father?
Pie.
How now Iulio, my little prettie sonne?
Why suffer you the childe to walke so late.
Foro.
He will not sleepe, but cals to followe you,
Crying that bug-beares & spirits haunted him.
Antonio offers to come, nere and stab, Piero presently withdrawes.
Ant.
No, not so.
This shall be sought for; Ile force him feede on life
Till he shall loath it. This shall be the close.
Pie.
Away there: Pages, leade on fast with light.
The Church is full of damps: tis yet deade night.
Exit all, sauing Iulio.
| Antonio's Reuenge | |