 | The Ladies Priviledge |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Chrisea, Enrione, Vitelli.Chri.
I am very sorry that his Fate has cast
Such a disastrous chance upon his Life:
But his desert will blunt the edge of justice,
And mitigate the severity, which would
Question the safety of his Life.
Vit.
Tis in your mercy
To dash the Lawes proceedings, gracious Madam,
The Priviledge that our Country gives your Sexe,
Can hope for no imployment, that will rayse
A greater Trophee to your fame, then this
To ransome him, whose constancy and truth
Exceeds all boast of Stories.
Enr.
You'l redeeme
The opinion of your piety, which scandall,
Should you omit this just and righteous taske,
Would blast with blackest infamy.
You plead in your owne cause, not his, t'does not beseem
My modesty to interpose my selfe
In that which nought concernes me.
Uit.
Is his life
Of such a triviall value in your thoughts,
That you esteem't not worthy your intreats,
To sav't from killing, ruine, sacred love,
Thou miracle of Mature, and delight
Of all who know humanity with some
Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast,
Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point
Pitty and amorous softnesse gently sit,
Reduce this straying Schismaticke to the first
Vnspotted purenesse of her constant faith,
And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighes,
As incense to thy Altars.
Eur.
Offer up
Miriads of virgin vowes and with our teares
Extinguish all irregular flames that taint
Thy holy fries.
Uit.
Oh Madam
What heart so barbarous, does not at loves smiles
Put off the native tiercenesse, beasts with beasts,
Observe his lawes; the Lyons whose big breath
Affrights the trembling people of the woods,
Were his hoarse accents to be understood,
They would appeare to be affections groves.
The Nightingale that on lascivious wings
Flies from the poplar to the trembling Beech,
And on each bough chaunts melancholy notes,
Had he a humane utterance, would proclaime
Those pensive straines, the musicke of his love;
And can yee be lesse sensible of a power,
That is so great, then creatures bard the use
Of sacred reason, and discourse?
Chri.
This is to seeke to pacifie the sea
With teares; Vitelli you mistake, your friend
Values not at so deere a rate his life,
To my unask'd entreats, besides I should
Envy the states prerogative, whose mercy
Is in remitting his unwilling fault,
But a becomming thankefulnesse, and should
Be censur'd, as too partiall to my owne
Affection should I strive to be his wife,
Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood
Of my late murdered kinsman.
Eur.
This concernes
As neerely me as you, but by just truth,
Though I'me ingag'd by my particular choyce
To my Vitelli, were I sure the Generall
Would not contemne my offer, and so blast
My future fame, I would disclaime all tyes
Of former fancy; and implore his safety.
Vit.
This is a sweetnesse
Which I cold wish you, what has begot
This strange desertion of your faith, true love,
Being once receiv'd into the soule converts
Into its very essence, does become
The same eternall substance, can you then
Teare from the tender Cabinet of your brest
Your very heart? this cruelty exceeds
The depth of tyranny; but rest assur'd,
If Doria suffer by your proud contempt,
I'me freed then from my promise, and will sooner
Warme an empoysoning Scorpion in my armes,
Then yeeld my meanest thought to you who are
By evident circumstance, though not by fact,
My friend the Generalls murdresse.
Chri
This Vitelli
Is not a meanes to winne me to your friend,
But more avert me from him, it inflames
My minde with holier fire to Court your love;
There is an evident beauty in your soule,
Equall to truest honor, I will cherish
This bravery in you, if your masculine fancy
You'l be a loyall husband, fare you well,
Be still thus noble, and be happy.
Exit.
Eur.
My sister
Has lost all sence of pitty; deere Vitelli,
There is no wretchednesse oppressing earth
Equall to ours, love thus the Tyrant playes,
Afflicting innocence by unusuall waies.
Exeunt.
Enter Doria as a prisoner, Lactantio, Adorni, to them Trivulci, Senators, Officers, and Attendants.
Ador.
Tis like your selfe my noble Lord, but see
The Duke approaching, let your soule expect
An equall hearing.
Offic.
Beare backe, roome for the Duke and Senate, what
Cuckold's that would have his Coxcombe broake? beare backe there.
Triv.
Cite in the prisoner.
Offic.
Hee's here my Lord.
Tri.
I'me sorry that
You for whose head the gratitude of the state
Decreed triumphant bayes should be enforc'd
To stand here a delinquent, but the law
Must as a streight and uncorrupted streame
Enjoy its usuall freedome, my Lords,
We are not met here to arraigne a prisoner,
Whose guilt does speake his sentence, but a person
Not only most unblemish'd in his fame,
But one to whom our country owes its life:
Who with his dearest blood has balm'd the wounds
Which michiefes giant-off-springs, raysing warre,
Cut in the bosome of the common-wealth.
Sen.
We all confesse his worth.
Tri.
Yet this brave youth,
This patron of our liberty, all his honours,
His blood and titles, his defensive bayes
From blasts of lightning) laid aside, is come
To tender satisfaction to the lawes,
He has offended, and since judgement is
The immediate act of Justice, it must passe
To save impartiall censure on his life,
As on the wretched'st malefactors; for
His former merits cannot take away
His present fault; for who ere is guilty
Vndoes the priviledge of his desert and blood;
For if great men offending passe unpunish'd,
The common people who doe use to sinne,
By their example fearelesse, will runne on
Into licencious wickednesse.
Sen.
Your grace delivers
The intension of the state, no oracle
Could have explain'd the meaning of our lawes
With more integrity.
Tri.
Yet my good Lords,
I speake not this, that my particular vengeance,
Because slew he my kinsman, has the least
Ayme at his life, which I would strive to cherish
As my owne health, or as the Cities peace,
For Magistrates ought to behold their crimes,
Not the committers, as the Poets faine
Of wise Tyresias, to want eyes, and only
Have seeing understanding, for a judge
Is guilty of the fault he does not punish,
And if rewards and triumphs doe adorne
Deserts tis just that shame and punishments
Should wait on vices, and how much more worthy
The person is that acts them, so farre sharper
Should be the penalty inflicted on him.
Sen.
And when the law
Vses its utmost rigor, tis the crime,
And not the man it sentences.
Tri.
In briefe We must
Decline his merit, and forget
In civill blood, his life must expiat what
His arme unfortunately committed.
Dor.
My Lords,
The services which I have done the state,
Were but my naturall duty, I atchieved 'em
To gaine me fame and glory, and you safety, and
Should esteeme them Traytors to honour, if their intercession
Be a protection for my crimes, I meane not
To plead to save a dis-respected life,
Cause I feare death, a sea incompass'd rocke
Is not lesse timerous of the assaulting waves,
Then I of the grimme monster, but there is
A fame surviving which I would be loath,
Should tell posterity I tamely yeelded
My head to th'Axe, and dyed because my spirit
Durst not desire to live to quit this scandall,
I hope what I can urge in my defence
Shall have indifferent hearing.
Tri.
Speake freely.
Dor.
Know then my intention
Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact,
Which I confesse most horrid, and woud I pay
A thousand showers of sorrow, could this hand
Reedifie that goodly fram of flesh
Which it demolisht, but my pricelesse fame,
In whose deere cause I slew him, will to justice
Boldly proclaime, I did no more then what
The truth I owe my reputation tells me,
Was right in poynt of honor.
Tri.
But the law
Does disallow it as unjust, and that
Must be your judge, and not that idle breath
Which you abusively terme honor.
Dor.
Your lawes cannot without partiality pronounce
Iudgement against me, for they doe acquit
That man of guilt that to defend his life
Is forc'd to slay his enemy; my act
Whose safety urg'd me to kill him, is my life,
My immortall life, as farre transcending this
As the soule does the body, for the sword,
Returnes that to its primitive matter dust,
And there it rests forgotten, but a wound
Strucke upon reputation, leaves a brand,
So selfe diffusive is dishonors guilt,
Even to posterity, and does revive
After t'has sufferd martyrdome.
Sen.
Yet this
Cannot excuse your fact, for civill reason
Allowes a reparation for the losse
Of same, but gives no man a lawfull licence
To snatch the priviledge from the hands of justice,
Which would dispose it equally.
Dor.
This strictnesse destroyes all
Right of manhood, since a coward
May fearefully relying on this sufferage
Of Law affront even valors selfe, consider
That the most cunning Pilot cannot steere mans
Brittle vessell 'twixt these dangerous Rocks
Of law and honor safely, sayle by this,
And on that suffer shipwracke, for suppose
I had with patience borne this scandalous name
Of a degenerate coward, I not only had
Nip'd the budding valor of my youth,
As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent
To our family, disgrac'd
My noble fathers memory, defam'd
Nay cowarded my Ancestors, whose dust,
Would 'a broke through the Marbles, to revenge
To me this fatall infamy.
Ador
Well urg'd, and resolutely.
Dor.
Nay more, your selves
That hate the deed being done; would have detested
The doer worse had it not beene perform'd
Withdrawne my chardge ith' army; as from one
Have abjur'd the trade of warre, in which I have beene nurs'd,
Yet for preserving this unvalued jemme
Of pretious honour that hangs on my soule,
Like a well polish'd Iewell in the eare,
Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer
The lawes sterne rigor.
Tri.
Sir I should refute
With circumstance your wrong opinion, but in briefe,
Religious conscience, utterly disclaimes
An act so barbarous to take mans life,
Is to destroy Heavens Image, and if those
Are held as Traytors, and the law inflicts
Severest tortures on them, who deface
The stamps of Princes in their coyne, can they appeare,
As guiltlesse whose rude hands disgrace
The great Creators Image, and commit
Treason 'gainst awfull nature; Oh my Lord
Collect your serious temper, and put off
The over weening fantasies of youth,
Consider what a vaine deluding breath
Is reputation, if compar'd with life.
Thinke that an idle, or detracting word
May by a faire submission (which our lawes
Of honor doe require it will enforce)
Be wash'd away, but the red guilt of blood
Sticks as a blacke infection to the soule,
That like an Æthiop cannot be wash'd white,
A shout within.
Thinke upon this, and know I must with griefe
Enter Corimba and Frangipan.
pronounce your fatall sentence.—
Fran.
Doe you heare Generall, Ile tell you newes, you were in
leopardy to have had your little weason slit; but I pronounce
By my perswasions does intend to take
The edge of law off, and become your wife,
True and inseparable.
Cor.
With reverence to this presence, my good Lords,
Know that I come not urg'd by heate of youth.
Tis true Ile beare her witnesse.
Cor.
Or any wanton or unchast desire
To beg this gentleman for my husband, neither
To raise my selfe a fortune by the match,
But mov'd in charity, and provok'd in minde,
With pitty to behold a man so proper,
Brought to an end untimely, by a death
So scandalous to honour as the Axe,
I come to crave our priviledge, and desire him
For my most lawfull husband.
Tri.
Gentle mayd
Your piety does prompt you to an act
That shall engage your country to erect
A statue to your memory, though I could not
Dispence with justice, yet since there's a meanes
Without the lawes infringement, to preserve him,
I doe rejoyce as much as if my sonne
Had scap'd apparant danger: goe on and prosper
In your designe.
Dor.
Doe you thinke because I pleaded
For my honours life,
I doate so much upon this idle breath,
As to preserv't with infamy, dispose
This womanish priviledge to submissive slaves,
Know that I hate a being that depends
Upon anothers bounty more then death,
At which my soule does, like an Eagle stretch its
Silver wings, and ore the monsters head
Will make flight at heaven; pray sir proceed
To judgement suddenly, delay begets
More tortors in me then your sentence.
Cor.
What doe you meane sir, pray let me understand you
Better, looke upon me, I am no woman to be slighted.
Fra.
She's not asham'd to shew her face, marry her Uncle, that
I may call you so.
Sen.
To wed this figure, is a farre greater punishment then
Death.
Ador.
Nere stand on tearmes, but marry her, and free your
colours in her face.
Dor.
Corimba,
I'me much engag'd to your officious haste,
And pay you many thankes, conceive not that
I doe contemne your person or dislike
The meannesse of your match, for were your beauty
Created for a miracle, and adorn'd
With the addition of a fortune ampler,
Then that perfection, I should crave a licence
To tell your modesty I am prepar'd
Rather for death then Nuptialls, and no strength
Of prayers and beauty, shall have power to tempt me
From my fixt resolution.
Tri.
This is madnesse not courage Doria.
Cor.
Sir I must tell you, you know not how to use a woman rightly
Perhaps tis bashfulnesse, take courage sir,
I have reserv'd my deere virginity
This fifty yeares for such a pious purpose,
And should you slight me now, I should forswear
Good purposes hereafter: gentlemen perswade him,
Sure he cannot chuse but melt
At your entreaties.
Tri
Will you then pull your ruine on; that seeks
Recorders. Enter Uitelli, and Sabelli, as a Lady. Virgins.
Thus easily to flye from you; Iustice calls
On me to give your sentence—new interruptions
It is the voyce of musicke, and presages
An Omen as harmonious as its notes,
Approach faire troops of Virgins, here's subject,
Fit for your maiden pity.
Cor.
Tis time for mee to take my farewell, these may bee
beauties, perhaps my Lady may bee one, adiew sir; you may be
offer'd worse.
Ex. Cor. and Fran.
Sab.
My honour'd Lord,
The charity I owe my native country,
That in the ruine of this brave young man,
Would suffer infinitly, has forc'd us strive
With earely zeale first to present our duties
That would attempt it, and my true affection
Has wonne this favour from my fellowes, that
To me they yield their interest, which I claime
As my desir'd prerogative.
Tri.
Tis an act the State will thanke you for; unvaile your selfe,
That we may know to whom we owe our gratitude,
A most excelling beauty, such an eye
Would tempt religious coldnesse to a flame,
Thaw Ages chilly frost, at such a cheeke
The Spring might take a patterne to create,
A most accomplish'd freshnesse; in her looks,
Are modest signes of innocence, such as Saints
Weare in their liveliest counterfeits: Doria, here
A Lady begs you, whom if you refuse,
The times would blacke you with the hatefull title
Of your owne wilfull murther; take her to you
And live a fortunate husband.
Dor.
Noble maid, my misery is so extreame a sinne,
It cannot meet your bounty without breach
Of vowes; which should I violate, would pull
Eternall torments on me; keep your beauty
For one whose soule, free as the ayre he breaths,
Can yield a mutuall fancy to your flame,
And not destroy his honour, for your goodnesse
Since my expir'd date, cannot yield you thanks
Worthy the boundlesse merit of your love,
If there can be a gratitude after death
Express'd by prayers, my soule in heaven shall pay it
To your kind charity.
Sab.
Oh my Lord,
I did expect this answer, my poore worth
Cannot deserve your value; yet there is
A constant purity in my thoughts, that intend you
So much of Blisse, that had your safety no
Dependance on my suit, it would be deem'd
Most cruell to contemne me, I have lov'd you
These many yeares; wish'd you as many glories
Will marry any man, but your blest selfe my Lord,
Should you neglect the justnesse of my request,
Besides the danger waiting on your life,
A thousand Virgins, whose unspotted prayers
Like hosts of guardian Angels, would have borne
You on their wings to heaven, will for my sake
Convert their zeale to curses, and in teares
Of anguish drowne your memory.
Vit.
Why friend, this is
Such an o're-weening passion, as does question
The soundnesse of your judgement, fills the world
With a conceit you dye; because your feares
Dare not accept of life: Besides your Mistris,
To whom you would so strictly keepe your faith,
Does so much scorne your constancy, that no
Entreats could move her pitty undertake
This honourable imployment.
Tri.
Doe it with speedy diligence.
Dor.
Her causelesse frailty
Shall more confirme my truth:
My Noble Lord pronounce
My happy sentence, 'twill be welcome to me
Enter Priest & Executioner.
As charming harmony, and swell my brest
With more than humane pleasure.
Tri
Are you come? approach,
Behold this Executioner, and this Priest,
This is to wed you to destruction, that
To this rich Mine of purity: your choyse
May accept either: if you fixe on this,
Besides your owne redemption, you enjoy
A Lady, who may clayme as many hearts
As she has vertuous thoughts; but leane to that,
Your Spring returnes unpittyed, to the rude
Armes of perpetuall winter, that will freeze you
To a ne're melting Isicle, be suddaine,
And wise in your election.
Dor.
Tis but vaine: a Saint may sooner be o're-come to sell
His native Piety: come thou grim man,
Beauty: Do thy office, it will free me
From these perplexities.
Sab.
Well my Lord,
Since I'me unworthy to enjoy in life
Your faire society, my soule shall hast
To waite on you to death, there is no blisse
Without your presence, since you will not have
Mercy on your owne life, by your example
Ile be as harsh to mine, Ile goe
Before you to the other world,
And be your lov'd Ghosts Harbenger.
Tri.
Hold, hold the Lady—
Sab.
Let no hand presume to seize me,
For the meanest touch that shall
Endeavour to prevent my will
Shall urge my speedier ruine: Good my Lord,
Shall I have answer? I would fayne be going
On my long journy.
Dor.
I'me confounded
In my imagination, I must yield,
You have enforc'd a benefit upon me, I
Can hardly thank you for, yet I will try
To love you as my wife; that I were lost
In Clouds of black forgetfulnesse.
Tri.
My Lord,
Your pardon's seal'd as soone as by the Priest
You are conjoyn'd in marriage:
Ile not leave you
Till't be someniz'd, Hymen light thy Pine,
Deaths tapers fade at the cleare flame of thine.
Exeunt.
The end of the fourth Act.
| The Ladies Priviledge | |