University of Virginia Library

ACT. III.

SCEN. I.

Ferrando, Ursini, Calantha, Alph: Violetta, Florinda, Sylvio.
Fer.
Come my Calantha, to consummate those joyes,
By mutuall vowes before the Altar made,
Which thy returne to life, to health, and reason,
Hath begun in me; those minutes which bring
Us any good, are swift and fleeting, and
Once past not to be recall'd, who knowes
Whether heaven will still be bountifull;

Cal.
Or smile upon this hasty Union:

Fer.
Yes royall mayde, they have prepar'd thee for it,
By the addition of new warmth and strength:

Cal.
For more sorrowes; pray let's backe, this day
(There's something whispers to me) will prove fatall.

Fer.
Ursini, see she weepes!
I've tooke thee from a sea of teares, (my Venus)
And thou art dropping dropping wet yet.

Syl.
'Tis ominous, this might have bin my marriage day;
But heaven forgive, and prosper him.

(aside
Fer.
Create a Sun-shine,
With thine owne smiles thou mayst, and dry thee in't:
Let the dull Negro dive to fetch thee Jewells,
These scatter'd seedes of pearle, are all too rich
And pompous for ornament; the least of these
Thy fond neglect has dropt, would purchase heaven.

Cal.
Blame not my pious thrift, I shed them for't;
Thither my journey tends, I shortly shall arrive there.

Fer.
Thou yeeldst too much to passion!

Cal.
These rites,
(If we may credit what our dreames fore-tell,)
Will turne to funerall obsequies, for such
This morning, (when your carefull art had bound
My senses up) fancy presented 'em.
Methought I saw,
Aurora from the East come weeping up,
Wrapt in nights sables, and the following day
Pac't slowly on, in griefes sad livery;
The pensive windes sigh'd forth a solemne dirge,
And strove to blow our marriage tapers out;
When you Ursini joyn'd in the solemnitie,
I saw you looke, like Sicily's pale ghost,
Broke from the hollow Caverns of the earth;
This hand Ferrando, at each gentle touch
Mouldred to ashes; on your lip there sate
A frost, which when I tasted straight convey'd
An icy chilnesse thorough every joynt;
The stammering Priest methought mistooke the rites,
And stead of those are us'd at nuptialls.
Sung a short requiem to our soules, committed
All that was left of us, to the earth, our last
Cold bed.

Alph.

I warrant you Ladies, this was because she lay alone;
you should advise her better.

Urs.
'Twas the intemperance of your disease
Suggested these Chimæra's.

Fer.
And with it they are fled.

Cal.
No, no Ferrando;
I've sinn'd against my fathers ghost; ere yet
His royall corps had slept two silent Moones
I'th' peacefull earth, or ere I had payd downe
Just tribute of my teares, I've chang'd my sables
For a gay nuptiall garment, whose light out-side
Denotes the loosenesse of a lighter minde,
To which griefe should have bin perpetuall guest.

Fer.
Urge it no more, thy misery's Virgin Queene
Are powerfull with me, and have taught this breast
A sad repentance.

Cal.
Canst thou Ferrando then repent?

Fer.
I can, that I have wrong'd thy innocence,
Kill'd thy father.

Cal.
O take me to thy soule, wee'l mingle sighs,
And teares, which still shall flow together from us,
As if the motion were but one; and those
So frequent, that the stones, which cloth his dust,
Shall soften into turfe, from whence shall spring
A bed of flowers, creeping about the grave,
As if they'd strew themselves upon him, then
Wither, that men might thinke we wept for them.

Fer.
Yet pardon Love, when ever I remember
He was a Prince, a Prince of equall power,
And strength with him he wrong'd; that he once stood
A barre betwixt our loves, or rather mockt
Our hopes of mutuall enjoyment; that
For his owne peevish humour, he would ruine
The edifice, that we had built to honour,
I glory in the act.

Cal.
Take pitty on me courteous death!
My thoughts are growne more terrible then thou!
I am monstrous, a prodigy in nature, one with
Him, that was my fathers murderer.

Fer.
Royall my Queene.
'Tis the excesse of pietie,
The errour of your duty, that thus wrongs
The justice of my cause.

Cal.
Yet you might have spar'd
His life, and made it your just praise, that you
Could conquer, and not kill:

Fer.
He was so eager in the pursuite of the foe,
When first he routed us, that willingly
He ran upon my sword, that stood t'oppose
His haste, and met a death instead of victory.

Urs.
Nay rather we may fay, that he met both
Who triumphs over life, and all the misery's
That too officiously attend upon it;
Crowne his pale statua, with victorious wreaths,
And call his unkinde fate, his happinesse!
His fall was honourable, Kings like other men
Travell to death, they goe i'th' common roade,
Are in their end as sensible of paine
As the base peasants, whom they by and by
I'th' grave are equall with; their only priviledge
Is in their executioner, who would not rather
Fall under a Kings hand, than yeeld his life
Up to a weake disease, a Feaver, Gout,
Or grating Stone, which had he mist this stroke,
Might streight have seiz'd him; and have rob'd him of
The glory of his end?

Cal.
I cannot yeeld
So farre to reason, but I still must looke
Upon you, as an enemy to Sicily;
As him that kill'd my father, and so hate you;
Yet I must love you too: when first we met
Together in your Tent, both arm'd (you know)
I would have fought, nay, and have kill'd you too,
(Could skill or strength have done it, some I had
Of both;) yet I meant not to survive you,
Nor should I neede t'have made another wound
To let mine owne life out, I'de dyed with yours.

Fer:
Ursini thou must quit some interest in my love,
Calantha—

Urs:
Deserves it all;
'Twere a sinne no lesse than sacriledge,
To rob her o'th least part of your affections.

Fer:
My faculties are growne
All to one power, call'd love and you engrosse it
Whole to your selfe; yet leave it still entire
To my Calantha, 'tis a divers flame,
That burnes mee, yet but one, each takes it's difference,
And being from the object, be you still
My friend, & thou my love, whom when we have once joyn'd
Unto our amorous folds, thus we will move
And of our armes make a new spheare for love.

Exeunt, with a long flourish.

SCEN: II.

Grutti. Cassio.
Grut.
—This way? to'th Temple saist?

Cass:
Married by this:
The Prince is fierce and eager in's desires,
Impatient of delay.

Grut.
But seem'd not she unwilling?

Cass.
There appear'd somewhat more in her, than in a virgin nicenesse,
They are here:—

They returne from the Temple) Flourish.
Urs:
The Priest has done his office, all delights
The married have a priviledge in, are yours:
Be bold in the enjoyment, what ere while
Was term'd a loosenesse in desire, is now
A vertuous thought: those flames which cloth your Soules
Are chast and holy, dalliance is your devotion.

Fer.
Yet you my Royall faire, can weare mee at
A carefull distance, tremble at each touch
Of hand or lip, as if you fear'd a rape:
—Display this beauteous treasure, lovely sweete
And let these flowers which dwell upon thy cheeke,
Like those proud Maja weares, i'th smiling ides
Blaze wide and open—see! they are fresh and lively,
Their odour flies to heaven in sacrifice!
kissing her.
Jove I'me thy rivall;—and will share thy incense:
Sweete as the purple smoake arising from
The Phœnix funerall pile, or Southerne breath
Perfum'd with all Arabia's spiceries.

Flo:

Good my Lord! you will too much indeare us to you
with your courtesies.

Viol:
And being strangers we are apt to be traduc't:
Our good names are precious, they are all we have left
Unconquer'd.

Urs:
Hymen applaud's this early piety:
The doves that drive the chariot of loves Queene,
Are swift in motion, and those happy troopes,
Which waite upon her triumphs, mak't their strife
Which shall out-runne the other, those that lagge
Cupid will whip with roses to the Altar.

Cal:
Henceforth (my Lord) I must attend your will,
Let me but drop a teare or two upon
My father's dust, and with his memory
I'le bid farewell to griefe.

Urs.
This vault containes it.

Fer:
Let us pay our last duties.

Urs.
The Quire attends without.

A Tombe discovered: &c.
Song within.
Chor:


Chor:

Fer:
'Tis well; enough is wept for Sicily; cheare up,
We have other vowes to pay, and as religious ones
As these: we made them at the Altar; and
If we performe them not, shall forfeit all
Our after joyes:—remove those objects there;
We have no use of sables now; they breed
Melancholy thoughts; we will be loud,
And big in mirth, as full of pride as noyse,
Till wee draw envie on our revels; which
Nor fate, nor the dull stoicke shall controule,
Whose sullen faith is the disease of's soule.

Exeunt, with a flourish.

SCEN. III.

Bentivoglio.
Bent:
Revenge! wer't thou more ugly than ere Painter
Limb'd witch or fury, I could kisse thee now,
For thy so opportunely prompting mee;
These brace of Courtiers here, my trim complotters,
Have try'd my skill upon their bodies; and now
I'me dearer to them, then their confessour,
Both these have sworne to further my designe,
I have against this Lord, this dotard; who
Hath heat his blood so with carousing healths,
That he's growne wild and furious; beleeves
His strength more able in these love-sirkes,
Than when he was i'th pride, and prime of youth;
Him are these two, according to instructions
Leading into the snares, that I've spread for him;
Into which, if they, and blind fortune conduct him,
I'le use him lesse gently, than I would a noyse
(Ent. Cass. Grut. Alph.
Of gowty-cheek't trumpetters:—They'r here.
I'le be with you streight.—

Exit Bent.
Alph.
Hymen is now predominant; the Starres
Will have it so; I must and will be married.

Grut.
Married?

Alph:

Yes, yes, you shall have favours, favours, Gentlemen!
bring mee but to the sight of a woman, I'le clap up a
match with her, and to bed streight; and if I don't outdoe
Hercules at his thirteenth labour, cut of my dainty dowsets,
and feed dogs with 'em.

Cass.

Hee deflour'd fifty virgins in one night, I hope you
won't marry so many.

Alph.

Yes, and thou wilt get so many i'th Kingdome, fifty?
what's fifty? I'le have a monopoly of 'em, get 'em all with
child with males, and they shall be borne with beards on.

Cass.

There might have bin some likelyhood of this once,
but now you are old.

Alp.

Old? ha! ha! he! Grutti, Grutti, dost heare him? ha! ha!
he! prithee how old? how old dost thinke? have I not a warm
moist palme? do's not my pulse beat strong, and healthy?

Grut.

The flowings of your blood, that downy chin, and
these full veines, speake you—some twenty, Sir.

Alp:
And of complexion sanguine, I know it by my dreams.

Grut.
The rose-buds now are blooming on your cheekes,
And ope themselves into a crimson blush;
This haire curles up like wire, and speakes you lusty,
Your strength is bold, and daring.

Alp.
Beleeve it, I'me a wanton.

Cass.
Come let's to a wench then.

Grut.
Hang marrying, 'tis a slavery!

Cass.
A meere purgatory!

Grut.

An hell to be bounde to one, and shee prove false, ugly,
or loude, when wee may enjoy our liberties, to take or
leave 'em, as our stomack serves us; have the choice beautyes
runne into our armes, and every night a fresh one.

Alph.

Hey! to a Wench; to a Wench!
now an I were King it should bee treason for any subject to capers!
marry.

Cass.

Allow 'em but Wenches, and 'twill be well enough.

Alph.

Or to lye with a Woman.

Cass.

How would you doe for subjects then?

Alph.

Perhaps an I had a minde to't, Ide get all my subjects
my selfe, ha! what sayst thou to't, Grutti?

Grut.

I say t'is fit, you have a minde.

(Enter Bentiv.
Alph.

Bentivoglio! wee are friends, come thou shalt along
with us, to a wench, old trangdido, to a wench, and thou shalt
so bumfiddle her.

Bent.

Nay, good my Lord, touch no more upon that string;
but d'ee heare? I came to carry you to one.

Alph.

Art right? art right? old boy! these Physitians are
notable jerkers, come, where's their rendez-vous?

Bent.

In my Lodgings.

Alph.

Ha? how many?—how many?—whats that there?

Bent.

A draught to provoke.

Cass.

—Sleepe.

(aside)
Alph.

Nay good Bentivoglio give it mee, a whole one, a
whole one!

Bent.

Be moderate; you'le take the next beggar you meete
else; & then the Ladyes expectation yonder will be frustrate.

Alph.

Ha! ha! he! Super naculum! my old bully lively,
my authentick Don, soule of pleasure; line of life; let's too't;
such a violent fit o'th sudden! a dozen Calentures are an ague
to't; twenty Juleps will not coole one wish.

Bent.

Let's have him to bed quickly, and h'ele him warme;
Bonum erit si sudaverit,

Grut.

Foh! his breath stinkes oth University.

Bent.

Signior tis not perfum'd:—now will I goe fetch
these Ladyes to him; & if he have courage enough but to speak
to em; I'le forfeit my art, and turne tooth-drawer.

Exeunt.

SCEN. IV.

A noyse within of clashing of Swords, some cry, treason! treason. Enter Ursini, and Valenzo fighting.
Urs.
My Lord!—

Val.
Villaine!

Urs.
The injury! I am not any way conscious.—

Val.
Traytor thou lyest;
Hell, and thy selfe the greater mischiefe, has
Conspir'd to ruine goodnesse.—

Enter the Guard with Piero, they seize on Valenzo. & exeunt.

SCEN. V.

Violetta, Florinda.
Viol.
Madame! y'have view'd these gardens;—has not art
Sweetly conspir'd with nature, to make up
A pleasure of variety?

Flor.
It takes exceedingly.—

(Looking upon and sorting her flowers.)
Viol.
What do's?

Flor.
Pretty indeede,
To have these flowers reade morall lectures to us.

Viol.
Yet Madame, you can finde in your heart to treade
Them underfoote, scorning as much the beauty,
As the rare sense they cary.

Flor.
Yes I can,
Yet streight I turne, and plucke'em;—binde 'em up,
In one faire volume, thus—

Viol.
And what reade you, pray?

Flor.
The emblemes of true vertues in each leafe,
Imprinted there, at natures proper charges.

Viol.
What thinke you of this Lilly?

Flor:
It figures innocence.

Viol:
Weare it in your bosome.

Flor.
Innocence indeed
Should be the breasts faire individuall mate.

Viol,
It will become you well.

Flor:
So will this crowne Imperiall your head,
Pray stick it there.

Viol:
I should be the envie of the Court then,
T'is a pretty flower, what think you if I carry it to the Princesse?

Flor:
Fit, very apt and fit, Lady,—as fit
A gift, as this were for a Lord, an hony-suckle,
The amorous woodbindes off-spring; it emblemes love;

Viol.
You would not have us make love?

Flor.
This mysticke way has bin allow'd of;

Viol.
And practis'd?

Flor.
Yes, and practis'd.

Viol.
Sure I should never do't.

Flor.
No Madame? why are not men creatures
As worthy Courtship, as wee?

Viol.
Oh! but we are women!

Flor:
Oh! but we are proud.

Viol.
Shall I take't on your experience?

Flor.
Or your owne:—ha! whose voyce is that?

Song within.
My heart is big with griefe, my wombe with lust,
Both fruits of my too easie trust;
Breake first my heart, and it will be
To wofull mee
The welcom'st, and most safe delivery.

Enter Sylvio with a Lute.
Syl.
Hence my delight! thou art turn'd traytour to mee:
Thy strings convey'd a poyson to my eares,
And they dranke deeply of it;—yet forbeare,
Alas it was my selfe, my inward griefe,
Throwne from the soule in often sighs, that made
Thy sound infectious; 'tis with that as guilt,
It growes still greater as 'tis borne about,
And poysons every thing should worke it's cure.

Viol.
Is not this Sylvio, Calantha's Page?

Flor.
A lover growne? las pretty innocence.
How finely sorrow shewes there—! That, that passion
Is well express't; now sigh, then knock the breast. Excellent.

Viol.
Let's use the benefit of this shade, to hide
Our selves, and secretly acquainted grow
With the blacke storie of his sad mishap.

Syl.
Felicia.
How has thy name, thy selfe, thy friend deceiv'd thee!
That onely wert acquainted with the sound
Of happinesse; mock't with a false report,
Into a reall misery; whose easie nature
(The greatest foe unto it selfe, was flatter'd)
Out of a virgin treasure; and then left
Rifled of all; but (what griefe now is preying on)
A haplesse life—yet cruell theefe, th'ast left
So much of thee behind, as shall hereafter
Tell to the world a darke and gloomy tale
Of thy blacke perjury.

Flor.
Ha! do's he riddle,
Or play with griefe?

Viol:
No 'tis too like a truth.

Sylv.
Me thinkes each thing
I meete withall upbraids my fond credulity;
The soaring larke hovers aloft i'th aire,
At distance from th'inchanting glasse, that Courts
Her to her ruine! the fearefull Quaile
Suspects and shuns the musicke of the pipe
That sings her into fetters.
Onely poore I am sillier than these;
Witnesse th'untimely swelling of this wombe
Pregnant to my disgrace;—As I lay hid
In yonder thicket, the brambles gently swell'd,
And hid my shame, which yet each triviall winde
But dallying with, perswaded from my covert!
And left mee naked to heaven's eye; the boughs
Of the next willow clung about my head,
As if they'd knit themselves into a garland,
Which I should weare for my forsaken lover,—

Flor.
Very pretty!

Viol.
Wer't not so sad.

Sylv:
Oh you the weake supporters of my woes,
Why do'e faile mee now at greatest need?
Beare mee at least into some hollow cave
Where I may die, free from an after scorne;
And not when I am dead, be found the shame
Of our fraile sex;—Oh! I faint, and fall,
Just like the early branches of some tree,
Whose hasty sap shootes into early fruit,
Till the o're laden boughs cracke with the weight,
Ere yet they bee full ripe—

(staggers off.
Flor:
I am amaz'd, a woman!

Viol.
Some Lady here o'th Court, I'le lay my life on't;
Let's to the Princesse and informe her of it.

Exeunt.

SCEN. VI.

Ferrando. Ursini. (Valenzo, Piero, with guard about them.)
Fer:
—Let mee eternally perish to honour,
If their heads answer not for this foule insolence.

Urs:
Though't be a sin of that portentous bulke,
That 'tstartles all the gods, and justice selfe
Wakes from a long dead lethargie to meete it:
Yet Kings are great as they, and spight of fate
Or rigorous lawes, may triumph in their mercy.

Fer:
Away with 'em to execution;
Him, and his fellow murderer, away:
—Pardon a Traytour?

Urs.
Though you might urge, 'twere treason of that height,
That none but they could thinke of, much lesse act:
That murder cries for murder, blood for blood:
That he whose innocence they sacrific'd
To their mad fury, was your loyall subject;
This on your marriage day—to affront Hymen.
And when your nuptiall torch burnt brightest, dead it
With bloud, into a sickly glimmmering taper:
That they should dare assault me!—i'th' Court—
One whom your goodnesse has bin pleas'd to looke
Into a life, and honours, plac't i'th' state,
Only to interpose my selfe betweene,
And meet all dangers that are shot at you.

Fer.
'T was a murder
Intended on our person, but that Heaven—

Urs.
Was just in the prevention; True it might be so,
And were it, yet upon submission
Such faults have beene remitted.

Fer.
Away with 'em, I'le heare no more.

Val.
Downe holy anger!—
(aside)
One word, and I'me gone—you are my Soveraigne,
And there's divinitie worne in that title,
Which I adore, and thinke my selfe as happy
In this so early doome, since you are pleas'd with't,
As heaven had spoke it; though not till old age,
When nature claim'd it as a due! Yet Sir
Be gentle to my memory; and if
At any time my crimes appeare before you,
Fresh in your thought, to staine my Heraldrie,
The happy mention of my vertuous acts,
From some that love my dust, shall rise to pleade
My innocence—; and may you never live
To curse th'untimely hand; or houre that rob'd you
Of so much loyaltie!—for you Ursini—
If ere your name shall fall in mention, when
I come i'th other world, expect me not
Your friend; I feare me, I shall tell sad tales
In th'eares of heaven;—Farewell—

Exeunt Val. Pier. with a guard.
Fer.
Impudent Traytour!

Urs.
Yet still I dare be good; and spight of all
His hate, or malice to me, thus stand up
To begge his life.

Fer.
Not after so much injury?

Urs.
Yes, if Valenzo dare be sinfull still
In wrongs, it shall be call'd my piety
To suffer.

Fer.
Th'art all goodnesse;—for thy sake
Wee'le mixe some mercy with our doome,
He that submits first to thee, has his pardon,
See justice done on th'other; this sentence
Shall stand irrevocable;—
Exit. Fer.

Urs.
This sentence stand irrevocable?
Plague to your easie nature!—
Ha! this 'tis to over-act; how have I almost fool'd my self, out
Of my owne plots; (He that doth first submit?)
I were in a fine case now, if Piero
Should not accept a life on this condition.
I'le send to him—Cassio! Grutti! who waites there?—
(Exit Ursin.

SCEN. VII.

Calantha, Sylvio, Flor. Viol.
Cal.
Ladies, pray absent your selves a while;—
Ex. Viol. Flor.
—With child? impudent whore! to what curs'd lumpe
Have thy sinnes swolne thee?

Syl.
Oh, me miserable!

Cal.
Hence ingrate wretch! that hast abus'd my favours
So farre, till thou hast made a sin of charitie:
—Ha! dost weepe?—
My rare dissembler! those teares which art hath taught
To flow, carry more sinfull cunning in 'em,
Then those the flattering Syrens weare upon
Their cheekes, when they court man to ruine
Yet tell me ere you goe, whom have those lookes
Beguil'd, and train'd into your sinfull armes.

Syl.
You must prepare your selfe for a sad story then:

Cal.
Yes, like enough, a tale as sad, and dismall
As that of Troy, and as much truth in't too!
Quickly, dispatch, before my anger prove
Too masculine!—and be modest in'th relation.

Syl.
You'le wish't untold.

Cal.
Undone I doe! but why
This tedious circumstance? it do's involve
Your guilt.

Syl.
Know then, that when I was my selfe
My name was—

Cal.
What?

Syl.
Felicia!

Cal.
Alberto's daughter?

Syl.
Yes his—that was once Alberto
Durazzo's farre-fam'd Marquesse; till
His cruell Master seiz'd on's life, and honours,
At his returne from Sicily i'th first warres;
Where he receiv'd a fatall overthrow.

Cal.
He was in action bold, and valiant!
However fortune wrought him this disgrace;

Syl.
Here! here began my misery.

Cal.
Proceede, trust me I now begin to pitty thee.

Syl.
Then let me die without your farther knowledge
Of my mishap; t'will be injurious
Unto my ashes, and disturbe their quiet;
I know it will;

Cal.
Nay, prithee tell me, come, and I'le weepe with thee.

Syl.
You'le have cause enough ere I've done;
Therefore don't hear't;

Cal.
Is there ought in't concernes me?

Syl.
Too much!

Cal.
Nay, then I must, and will have all the story,
Or thinke thee a foule prostitute.

Syl.
'Tis thus then!
—Yet do'nt beleeve me, say that I was mad,
Distracted with my sorrowes, that my words
Fell so uneven from me, you mistooke
The sense; say any thing.—

Cal.
Come, come, I know thou wilt tell truth!

Syl.
Or may I never finde peace hereafter!

Cal.
How I feare
Whether this story tends?

Syl.
The King Madame,
Ferrando;—(Seize me Courteous death,
Or I shall poyson all her joyes;)

Cal.
Ha! what of him?
Be sudden, or, I sweare by my just anger,
Ple streight rip up the cradle of thy lust,
The den where all thy loose adultery's
Were acted; search each corner of thy wombe,
That keepes a record of thy villanyes!

Syl.
Ferrando was the author of my fall:

Cal.
More lying then that evill Genius
(Kicks her, & Exit.
That wrought the first mans fall!

Syl.
Ferrando! oh! oh! (Swoons)

Enter againe Calantha
Cal.
Thou rebell passion jealousy! what mean'st thou
To tumult in my breast?—ha! yet why not?
Why may not he be false?

Syl.
Oh! oh! oh!

Cal.
T'is so!—Felicia!—she's gone, she's gone!
Helpe there, Florinda! Violetta! Ladyes!
Soe—she begins to breath;—looke up Felicia!

Syl.
Where am I?

Cal.
Here,—a medall? this confirmes it;
Ferrando and Felicia!

(finds a medall about her necke with the pict: of Fer: & Fel in it
Syl.
Ha! the Princesse!
Be shrew me but I've had a fearefull dreame!
I hope t'was but a dreame;

Cal.
No; I know all,
Ferrando's false, as stayn'd with sin, and perjury
As howling Ghosts.

Syl.
Good Madame don't affright me;
Your fancy's darke and gloomy.

Cal.
Yes all hell
Is there at worke contriving a revenge;

Syl.
Revenge? for whom?

Cal.
No matter whom;—But tell me
How, and with what false othes, he won thee first
To his loose sheets.

Syl.
I'le tell you; but you first
Shall promise me, to treade no other way
To your revenge and mine, then I shall leade you in.

Cal.
I doe:
Let's sit, and heare it all.

Syl.
Whilst yet Alberto liv'd
As great in favour as in bloud, the glory
O'th Court of Naples, honour'd with dayly visits
From his Prince; t'was my unhappy destiny,
(Foole that I was to be so credulous!)
To receive many favours from Ferrando;
Which I interpreted i'th way of love;
Meane while, this match was treated of betweene
Him, and your selfe; your Father (Sicily's King)
After your plighted troths, and formall ceremonyes
Us'd betwixt Prince, and Prince, would breake it off,
Which caus'd a sudden warre upon his Country;
In which expedition Alberto
Was sent chiefe generall: the King being forc't
Now to withdraw his publick visits, imploy'd
Ursini in the businesse; gets accesse
Privately to me i'th night, and that too
Allwayes i'th darke, lest happily he might
Be knowne to any of my servants; Briefly
After his many oathes, and protestations
Of his faire meaning, I at last consented
To let him steale the fruit, he durst not owne:
When ere I urg'd, he was ingag'd to you,
He answer'd, that was but a tricke of state,
A faire pretence to colour his designe;
And mak't seeme glorious, in the eye o'th world;
That he warr'd for a Kingdome, not a Queene;
Onely intreated me, that I'de be silent,
And not so much as in a signe betray
To'th day, what onely night was conscious of.

Cal.
You condiscended?

Syl.
Willingly.
My father i'th meane while returnes defeated,
For which the King led on by passion, seiz'd
His life and honours, these conferr'd on his
Now favourite Ursini the fleete re inforc't,
He himselfe the second time in person
Went generall of the forces, conquer'd Sicily,
And slew your father on Messina's plaines,
Last brought you away captive.

Cal.
But how cam'st thou to Court in Sicily?
Thou told'st another story then:

Syl:
For that
I crave your pardon, 'twas all the untruths
My life has ere bin charg'd with; but 'twas thus:
Led partly by a jealous feare, to see
What he intended; partly to find out
My brother Frederico, who was left there
Commander in Mazara, which was tooke
In the first expedition, in this disguise,
'Mongst others whom desire of fame, or profit
Led to your shore, I cross't the seas; but failing
In quest of him I sought, I came to Court,
Where since I have remain'd.

Cal.
But why Felicia
Did'st not disclose thy selfe before this time,
Now things are growne so bad?

Syl.
When first I saw
Your person, and how mutually you lov'd,
Knowing how farre I was beneath your worth,
So deare I held you both, that I determin'd
For ever to be lost to memory;
And serve you thus in this disguise: which I
Had done, but that this haplesse chance
Betray'd mee to your knowledge.

Cal.
Alas! thy piety has undone us both!

Syl.
'Twas my too cruell destinies!

Cal.
Methinkes wee two now seeme to be set copies
Of griefes, to which wrong'd virgins will repaire,
To take out patternes by.

Syl.
Our wrongs and sorrowes
Have made us just so like to one another,
That each seemes th'others counterfeit.

Cal.
We'le sit, and descant on our miseries,
Count the extent of each, proportion teares,
And sighs unto them.

Syl.
Her's that doth surmount,
Shall borrow griefe of t'other.

Cal.
H'as robb'd mee of a father cruell Tyrant.

Syl.
H'as robb'd mee of a father cruell Tyrant,

Cal:
Bereav'd mee of my friends, and loving subjects.

Syl:
Bereav'd mee of my Brother, and my friends.

Cal:
Tane away all my honours, and my dower.

Syl.
Taken my virgin honour, all my dower.

Cal:
H'as mock't mee with the title of a Queene.

Syl:
H'as mock't mee with the title of a Queene.

Cal:
—But I am lost in Passion.

Sylv:
And I am lost in Passion.

Cal:
Felicia come, and as our wrongs are equall,
So let our revenge be; we'le hand in hand
Assault this Tyrant; and in bloody Characters
Print on his body the story of our sufferings:

Syl:
Yet this cannot cure our griefe.

Cal:
What though, wrong'd innocence?
In death it will intitle us to honours;
And though our bodies moulder to corruption;
Our better part shall survive fame; our names,
Free from decay, shall swell up numerous volumes;
Whil'st our sad legends shall be made a pillow,
To every sleeping virgin.

Syl:
O yet for my sake have some pitty on him,
And for that part of him, that's cradled here,
'Las he may live to make us faire amends.

Cal:
For thy sake I could spare him, but my wrongs
Sit heavy here, and urge mee to revenge.

Syl:
But say I've thought a way, how we may yet
Be both restor'd to happinesse, would you not
Accept, and follow't?

Cal:
Speake it (gentle soule.)

Syl:
As yet (you know) your virgin treasure stands
Free from his ruder touch: those Ceremonies,
Which link't you in one Hymeneall knot,
Religion will make void, the præcontract
'Twixt him and mee being knowne, so that you then,
On this part are free from him; enjoy him thus
You cannot, neither would you (I suppose)
After these wrongs, (if you might be permitted:)
What hinders then, but that I take your place
This night? and shew him, to what height his perjury
Has wrought our wrongs, whilst you in some disguise
May quit the Court, and e're next Sun appeare,
From hence towards France, to whom you are allyed
In blood, and wrongs.—

Cal:
Content,—I'le in, and haste mee to be gone,
To goe there is some hope.

Syl:
To stay there's none.

Exeunt.