University of Virginia Library

Actus Quintus.

Enter Trivulci, Doria, Sabelli, Adorni, Priest and Uirgins.
Tri.
Is the Priest prepar'd
For his Hymne after Nuptialls, and the virgins
Ready to gratulate the Bride, and Bridegroome
With the appoynted dance?

Ador.
The Priest I thinke
Has the song perfect, but it is a question
Among the wisest, whether in the City
There be seven Virgins to be found to furnish
Recorders.
The dance as't should be; but you must accept them
With all their faults; this musicke speaks their enterance.

Enter Virgins.
Song.

A Dance.
Tri.
You have our hearty thanks, and we shal study
To give you faire requitall; come my Lord
Erect your drowsie spirits, let your soule
Dance ayry measures in your jocund breast;
This is a day on which each Bridegroome ought
To weare no earth about him; ayre and fire
Are Hymens proper elements, your mirth
Ought to infuse into your frolicke guests,
An humour apt for revelling and sport:
Your disposition is more dull, than if
You were to be chiefe mourner at a Coarse:
For shame shake off this sadnesse.

Ador.
It becomes you to say truth scurvily, I doe not like it,
You looke as if y'ad lost some victorie,
Of which your hope had an assurance: Shall I tell your Lordship
A very pleasant story?

Enter Vitelli.
Dor.
It must be, if it be delightfull to me, a discourse
Of some quicke meanes to free me from this cruell
Oppressive weight of flesh, which does entombe
My martyr'd soule, that like to sulphury fire
Hid in a Mountains entrayles, strives to burst
The prison, and flye upwards; it must needs
Be a sad wedding, when the Bridegroome weares
His Nuptiall livery on his eyes in teares.

Vit.
Friend, this is
A passion too effeminate for a heart
Endu'd with manly courage; things past helpe
Should be past thought, your sadnesse casts a Cloud
Upon the lustre of this Ladyes looks,
You make her dimme the brightnesse of her eyes
With unbecomming teares, if you continue
This strange distraction.

Sab.
Alas my Lord,
Let me participate your cause of sorrow,
And be a willing partner in your griefe,
Which like a violent Current that o're-flowes
The neighbouring fields and medowes in its rage,
Into two streames divided, smoothly runnes,
Kissing with calme lips the imprisoning banks,
Would, though too mighty for you, when my soule
Should vent a part of it, be milde, and passe
Away without disturbance of your peace,
Which to procure I would even burst my heart
With sighes devoted to your quiet, and
Become a loving fountaine by my teares
I shed without intermission.

Dor.
Gentle Lady,
I am at such an enmity with fate,
Makes me incapable of ought but griefe,
But I shall study to declare how much
Enter Eurione, Chrisea, Corim. Lact. & Bon.
I am indebted to your care—good heaven
Send downe some Angell to protect my heart,
Or my religion will scarce stay my hand,
For acting wilfull violence on my life,
I have suckt poyson from her eyes, that will
Like to juyce of Hemlocke drowne my soule
In a forgetfull Lethargy, or oppresse
My temperate faculties with madnesse.

Tri.
Cosen y'are welcome, know this vertuous Lady
Who has redeem'd the Generall.

Chri.

Sir, ime come to gratulate your beauteous bride, and
wish you joyes immortall.

Sab.
I hope Madam, my innocence has gi'n you no offence,
That you refuse me, being a stranger to you.
The Ceremonious wishes, which pertaine
To new made Brides, and onely doe conferre them
Vpon my Lord.

Chri.
Your happinesse already
Is so superlative, I cannot thinke
A new addition to it, you enjoy
The very summe of fortune in your match,
To such a noble and illustrious husband.
I no longer can hold my passion in,
These walls of flesh are not of
Strength sufficient to contayne
My big swolne heart: My Lords behold a creature
So infinitely wretched, I deserve not
The meanest shew of pitty, who have, like
A silly merchant, trifled away a jemme,
The darling of the quarry, lost a love
By my too foolish nicenesse, to regaine
Whose forfeiture I would lay downe my life:
But he is gone for ever, and I left
A pittious spectacle for the reproach
And scorne of wiser women.

Eur.
Is this possible?
Was all her passion to Vitelli feign'd?
My hopes recover life agen.

Tri.
Why Chrisea,
Whence springs this passionate fury?

Chri.
Oh my Lord,
When you shall heare it, you will sigh for me,
And shed a charitable teare, at thought
Of my unkinde disaster: sir my Justice
Cannot accuse your constancy, which stood
In the first tryall of your love, as fast
And spotlesse as an Alablaster rocke,
That had it but persisted in that height
Of honourable loyalty, your glory
Had been advanc'd to heaven, as the fix't starre,
To guid all lovers through the rough
Seas of affection.

Uit.
This taxation
Cannot be just from you, who did enforce
The sad revolt upon him.

Dor.
Is there in heaven no friendly
Boult left that will strike this frame into
The center, and set free a wretch
(So overgrowne with misery) from life,
That death would be a comfort above health,
Or any worldly blessing, may time blot my name out
Of his Booke, that such a Prodigy
May not affright succession, nor sticke
Like an orespreading Leprosie upon
The beautious face of manhood.

Chri.
Oh my Lord, each griefe of which
Y'are sensible, is mine, and not your
Torment, every sigh you breath is an
Afflicting motion, expir'd by my vext
Spirit, and if you could weepe, each drop
Would be my blood, who am the spring
Of the whole flood of sorrow; oh forgive
The too exceeding honor of my love, I would
Have had you for your perfect truth so glorious;
Your loyalty should not for
Preservation of your fame, have needed
To adopt a statue for its heire, or builded a
Monumentall pyramid, but love
Is ofttimes loves undoing.

Tri.
This is such
A cunning la byrin of
Sorrow, that no clew
Can lead them out of.

Dor.
It would be
A great affront to misery, should there live
A person halfe so wretched to out-dare
The strength of my affliction, me thinkes
Ime like some aged mountaine that has stood
In the seas watry bosome, thousand shocks
Of threatning tempests, yet by th'flattering waves,
That cling and curle about his stony limbes,
Is undermind and ruind, I have scap'd
Warres, killing, dangers, and by peacefull love,
Suffer a strange subversion, Oh Chrisea,
While I have reason left that can distinguish
Things with a coole and undistracted sence,
Let's argue mildly the unhappy cause
Of our undoings.

Eur.
Truely sister,
'Twas a suspicious rashnesse, I could wish
You never had attempted.

Chri.
My Lord,
Humane condition alwaies censures things
By their event, my aimes have had successe
So strangely haplesse, that will blast the truth
Of their intentions purity, I never
Harbor'd the least suspicion of your faith,
Which I did strive to perfect, by the test,
As richest gold refind, and purg'd
From drosse of other baser metals, and besides
The triall of your constancy, I meant
To sound Vitellies depth; upon whose love
My sister doted, so that I was loath
To see her cast the treasure of her heart
Upon a stranger, of whose constancy
She had too small assurance.

Tri.
Gentle Cosen,
Your good intents encounter'd bad successe,
But I admire, since you must needs have notice
Of his disaster, that the law would passe
Upon his life, you did not to prevent.
All other virgin intercessors haste
To pay the early tribute of your love.

Chri.
My wretched fate
With a too quicke prevention has orethrowne
The justnesse of my purpose,
I relyed so much upon his noblenesse, I thought
The ugly horror of a thousand deaths
Could not have mov'd his temper, and besides,
Knowing his mighty courage, I permitted
The law proceed upon him, that hereafter
He might be sure no merit can appease
Offended justice, otherwise I could
Easily have stop'd this mischiefe.

Enter Bonivet.
Tri.
How Chrisea? I understand you not.

Chri.
Lady, to quit all scruple that I doe not wish
Yours and your Lords succeeding happinesse, Ile offer
Something as an oblation that shall adde
Peace to your nuptiall garland (see my Lord)
My Cosen Bonivet lives.

Tri.
Lives? Lactantio did not you informe us
That he was dead, and you had caus'd his body
To be prepar'd for funerall? which occasioned
The Generalls suddaine tryall, because our custome
Does not permit the corpes to be entomb'd,
Before the murderer have his sentence, sir you shall know
What tis to mocke the state thus.

Lact.
Good my Lord
Heare but my just excuse, I am so much the faire
Chriseas beauty's by such ties
Oblig'd to serve her, that I choose to hazzard
The anger of the state ere her displeasure,
And doe submit me to your gracious censure.

Chri.
I must confirm't,
Sir it was I who caus'd him to conceale
My Cosen Bonivet, for the causes which
I did declare before, and now my selfe
Having receiv'd a satisfying proofe
Of his affection, came resolv'd to cleare
These misty errors, but my cruell fate
Has like a suddaine storme which has beate downe
A goodly field of standing Corne even ripe
For the laborious sickle, crush'd my hopes
In one sad minute into nothing.

Sab.
My Lord I owe
Such an obedient duty to your peace,
That though my heart does wish to waite on yours
For ever; since I see betwixt this Lady
And you such firme apparences of love,
If the law please to allow it, I resigne
My interest to her and be fortunate
To see you two live happy.

Vit.
Since the marriage
Has not arriv'd to consummating act,
I doe beleeve this may be done.

Tri.
Doe not delude
Your favour with vaine hopes, the law cannot
Dispense with the strict Cannon, tis impossible
You should be separated.

Dor.
This happinesse
Was too extreamely good to be confirm'd
To such a wretch as I am: I am like
One that did dreame of a huge masse of wealth,
And catching at it, grasp'd the fleeting ayre,
And waking grieves at the delusion.

Sab.
Sir resume your antient quiet, the formall
Love shall not oppose your peace, Ile disanull
The marriage easily, and most noble Lord
Pardon your humble servant.

Dor.
Sure this is
Some apparition to confirme my faith,
Speake, art thou my Sabelli.

Vit.
Yes tis he, fate would not suffer two such
Noble soules to be so disunited, gentle boy,
Thy duty to thy Master will continue,
Thy name in story, as the great example
Of loyalty in servants.

Sab.
'Twas the zeale I ought in duty to my Mrs. life,
Hath put me on the attempt, which if he pardon,
I'me fully satisfied.

Dor.
My joyes does with a suddain extasie oppresse
My fraile mortality, and J should sinke,
Wert not for my supporters, my Sabelli,
Thou hast restor'd two lovers to their blisse,
Whose gratitude shall pay to thy desert
The tribute of their hearts: Deare Madam, now
I hope your scrupulous doubts will remaine free
From any new suspition.

Chri.
Since I have scap'd the danger past, beleeve ile avoyd
The like hereafter; my Lord please you confirme
My choyse; and let my sister be dispos'd
To good Vitelli, he deserves her.

Tri.
Your wishes are fulfild, Cosen Bonivet welcome to life
Agen; you and the Generall must be friends.

Dor.
Your goodnesse will pardon my misfortune?

Bon.
And desire to be esteem'd your servant.

Enter Frangipan.
Fran.

With your leave gentlemen: Madam I have such newes
to tell you, as will tickle your understanding, to beleeve the Generall
is married; and more, Signior Doria, Lord Bonivet lives;
That's lucky newes for you.

Dor.

He's here, good Signior Frangipan.

Fran.

My newes has ever the worst lucke; J must resolve to
leave it off.

Ador.
But sir J have some suddaine newes to tell you:
The thousand Ducats you contracted to pay me,
When you could understand the French as perfectly
As my selfe; by all these Lords indifferent judgement is
Due on this very minute.

Fran.

This is newes indeed; you do not mean to make a gul of
me, a figo for a thousand Ducats: as I am a gentleman I know not
French for any thing, not for an Asse: good your grace let mee
not be abus'd.

Cor.
'Twas I my Lord who made the bargaine with him,
The mony is not due untill my Cozen
Have French as perfect as himselfe.

Dor.
He has, ile beare him witnesse; for Adorni
Speakes not one true French word.

Fran.
How not one true French Word?

Ador.
No not a word, you must disburse.

Fran.
Tutor, ile tell you newes,
You made a foole of mee,
I could abuse him horribly,
If I durst for feare of beating.

Ador.
My Lord
If he will undertake warres,
Ile quit my bargayne.

Fran.
Ile pay it trible first, the name of warre
Has brought an age on me.

Tri.
You two agree that: Cozens I rejoyce
To see this happy period of your loves.
Let's backe unto the Temple, that the Priest
May by his sacred power unite your hearts.
Lead to the Temple.

Exeunt.