 | The Dvke of Millaine |  |
Scæ. Ter.
Enter Marcelia, Francisco.Marc.
Beleeue thy teares or oathes? Can it be hop'd,
After a practice so abhor'd and horred,
Repentance e're can find thee?
Franc.
Deere Lady,
Great in your fortune, greater in your goodnes,
Make a superlatiue of excellence,
In being greatest in your sauing mercie.
I doe confesse, humbly confesse my fault,
To be beyond all pittie; my attempt,
So barberously rude, that it would turne
A saint-like patience, into sauage furie:
No spleane or anger in you of a woman,
But when a holy zeale to pietie fires you,
May, if you please, impute the fault to loue,
Or call it beastly lust, for 'tis no better
A sinne, a monstrous sinne, yet with it, many
That did proue good men after, haue bin tēpted,
And thogh I am croked now, 'tis in your powre
To make me straight againe.
Marc.
Is't possible
This can be cunning?
Franc.
But if no submission,
Nor prayers can appease you, that you may know,
'Tis not the feare of death that makes me sue thus,
But a loathed detestation of my madnesse,
Which makes me wish to liue to haue your pardon.
I will not waite the sentence of the Duke
(Since his returne is doubtfull) but I my selfe
Will doe a fearefull iustice on my selfe,
No witnesse by but you, there being no more
When I offended: yet before I doe it,
For I perceiue in you no signes of mercie,
I will disclose a secret, which dying with me,
May proue your ruine.
Marc.
Speake it, it will take from
The burthen of thy conscience.
Franc.
Thus then Madam,
The warrant by my Lord sign'd for your death,
Was but conditionall, but you must sweare
By your vnspotted truth, not to reueale it,
Or I end here abruptly.
Marc.
By my hopes
Of ioyes hereafter, on.
Franc.
Nor was it hate
That forc'd him to it, but excesse of loue,
No liuing man deseruing to enioy
My best Marcelia. With the first newes
That I am dead, for no man after me
Might e're enioy her, but till certaine proofe
Assure thee I am lost (these were his words)
—Faile not to kill her
Obserue and honor her as if the seale
Of womans goodnesse only dwelt in hers.
This trust I haue abus'd and basely wrong'd,
And if the excelling pittie of your mind
Cannot forgiue it, as I dare not hope it,
Rather then looke on my offended Lord,
I stand resolu'd to punish it.
Marc.
Hold, 'tis forgiuen,
And by me freely pardned. In thy faire life.
Hereafter studie to deserue this bountie
With thy true penitence (such I beleeue it)
Against my resolution hath forc'd from me,
But that my Lord, my Sforza should esteeme,
My life fit only as a page, to waite on
The various course of his vncertaine fortunes,
Or cherish in himselfe that sensuall hope
In death to know me as a wife, afflicts me,
Nor does his enuie lesse deserue my anger,
Which though such is my loue, I would not nourish,
Will slack the ardor that I had to see him
Returne in safetie.
Franc.
But if your entertainment
Should giue the least ground to his iealousie,
To raise vp an opinion I am false,
You then distroy your mercie. Therfore Madam
(Though I shall euer looke on you as on
My liues preseruer, and the miracle
Of human pitty) would you but vouchsafe,
In companie to doe me those faire graces
May safely warrant, it would to the Duke
(I being to your best selfe alone known guiltie)
Make me appeare most innocent.
Marc.
Haue your wishes,
And some thing I may doe to try his temper,
At least to make him know a constant wife,
Is not so slau'd to her husbands doting humors,
But that she may deserue to liue a widow,
Her fate appointing it.
Franc.
It is enough,
Shout, and Floursh
Nay all I could desire, and will make way
To my reuenge, which shall disperse it selfe
On him, on her, and all.
Ent. Tiberio & Stephano
Marc.
What shout is that?
Tib.
All happines to the Dutches, that may flow
From the Dukes new and wish'd returne.
Marc.
He's welcome.
Steph.
How coldly she receiues it.
Tib.
Obserue their encounter.
Flourish.
Ent. Sforza, Pescaria, Isabella, Mariana, Graccho & the rest.
Mar.
What you haue told me Graccho is beleeu'd,
And I'le find time to stur in't.
Grac.
As you see cause,
I will not doe ill offices.
Sf.
I haue stood
Silent thus long Marcelia, expecting
When with more then a greedie hast thou would'st
Haue flowne into my armes, and on my lippes
Haue printed a deepe welcome. My desire
To glaze my selfe in these faire eyes, haue borne me
With more then human speede. Nor durst I stay
In any Temple, or to any saint
To pay my vowes and thankes for my returne,
Till I had seene thee.
Sir, I am most happie
To looke vpon you safe, and would expresse
My loue and duty in a modest fashion,
Such as might sute with the behauior
Of one that knowes her selfe a wife, and how
To temper her desires, not like a wanton
Fierd with hot appetite, nor can it wrong me
To loue discreetly.
Sf.
How, why can there be
A meane in your affections to Sforza?
Or any act though neare so loose that may
Inuite or heighten appetite, appeare
Immodest or vncomly. Doe not moue me,
My passions to you are in extreames,
And know no bounds, come kisse me.
Marc.
I obey you.
Sf.
By all the ioyes of loue, she does salute me
As if I were her grand-father. What witch,
With cursed spels hath quench'd the amorous heat
That liued vpon these lips? Tell me Marcellia,
And truly tell me, is't a fault of mine
That hath begot this coldnesse, or neglect
Of others in my absence?
Marc.
Neither Sir,
I stand indebted to your substitute,
Noble and good Francisco for his care,
And faire obseruance of me: There was nothing
With which you being present could supply me,
That I dare say I wanted.
Sf.
How!
Marc.
The pleasures
That sacred Hymen warrants vs excepted,
Of which in troth you are too great a doter,
And there is more of beast in it then man.
Let vs loue temperatly, things violent last not,
Then true affection.
Grac.
Obserue but this,
And how she prays'd my Lords care and obseruance,
And then iudge Madam if my intelligence
Haue any ground of truth.
Mari.
No more, I marke it.
Steph.
How the Duke stands?
Tib.
As he were routed there,
And had no motion.
Pesc.
My Lord, from whence
Growes this amazement?
Sf.
It is more deare my friend,
For I am doubtfull whether I haue a being,
But certaine that my lifes a burthen to me,
Take me bake good Pescara, show me to Cæsar,
In all his rage and furie I discliame
His mercie, to liue now which is his guift,
Is worse then death, and with all studied torments.
Marcellia is vnkind, nay worse, growne cold
In her affection, my excesse of feruor,
Which it was neuer equal'd, growne distastfull.
But haue thy wishes woman, thou shalt know
That I can be my selfe, and thus shake off
The fetters of fond dotage. From my sight
Without reply, for I am apt to doe
Something I may repent. O, who would place
His happinesse in most accursed woman,
In whom obsequiousnesse ingenders pride,
And harshnesse deadly. From this howre
I'le labour to forget there are such creatures;
True friends be now my mistrisses. Cleere your browes,
And though my heart-strings cracke for't, I will be
To all, a free example of delight:
We will haue sports of all kinds, and propound
Vnsatisfiz'd though we surfeit in their store.
And neuer thinke of curs'd Marcelia more.
Ex.
| The Dvke of Millaine | |