 | Sicily and Naples, or, the Fatall Vnion |  |
ACT: IV.
SCEN. I.
Piero. Cassio. as in the Prison.Pier:
—To mee this?
Cass:
Out of particular respect
Hee stood ingag'd to repay your merits.
Pier:
Dare you
Promise so much for's Lordship?
Cass:
The Contents
Of that will speake, how much he tenders goodnesse
In every noble breast.
Pier:
No doubt Sir, but
You are familiar with the sense it carries,
And can informe mee, better than the darke Character.
54
'Tis that you'd be pleas'd t'accept
A life, for which to's Piety you shall owe,
Onely a faire acknowledgement.
Pier:
Wondrous good!
'Tis a becomming charity this, and hee
Weares it amongst the chiefest of his vertues.
Cass:
Sir, it must needs be eminent in's Lordship,
Since exercis'd upon so noble a subject
As your selfe.
Pier:
But stay?—now I thinke on't,
This is a benefit of that nature, it seldome comes
Alone, are there not honours too? preferments
That wait upon this gift? speake, shall I be
His Lordships creature?
Cass:
He's passionately yours.
Pier:
Are we not for designe?—ha, what darke tricke
Is there i'th State, that doth imply danger
Enough for us to mannage, doth he thinke
Us fit to temper poytons, or use the benefit
O'th night to seize on his State-rivals, are we
Potent enough for faction, or intended
Intelligencer to some forraine Prince?
Cass:
What meane you?
Pier.
Ingagements of this nature urge a returne
Of thankes proportionable to themselves,
And what we have of such rich values,
I cannot tell, lest t'be our soules forfeited
To'th next occasion his Lordship has to use 'em.
Cass:
This is strange language Sir, my understanding
Has not yet arriv'd at what it meanes.
Pier:
Go home and study it then:—and do'e heare,
Entreat my Lord, t'employ his favours to
Strikes him.
Some further profit, he'le scarce be gainer by 'em else.
Cass:
I shall acquaint him with your humour.
Pier:
Do maggot, wriggle, wriggle, do:—
Exit Cass:
55
SCEN. II.
To Piero, Charintha; (Valenzo behinde the hangings.)Char.
Piero.
Pier.
Madame! I am all joy, life, honours,
Preferment, and what not?
Char.
Then I'me undone!
Piero! didst not promise me to stand
The utmost of's temptations? didst thou boast
Thy vertuous strength, and fall'st at the first onset?
Pier.
Life Madame is sweet.
Char.
If hitherto
It hath bin so, hereafter t'will be all
Bitternesse, thou hast betray'd thy friend to death;
The thought of which will soure all thy content,
Make thy best pleasures rellish worse then gall.
Pier.
Life, with the worst that can befall us, is
A good exchange for death; but here are honours
Annex't to't Lady! I shall be great in favour.
Char.
Thou wilt grow big in sinne too! thou must barter
Thy vertue for preferment; which being gone,
At best thou't be but painted ruines,
A glorious misery; thou must owe life
To him, that will infect and kill thy soule.
Pier.
Yet you would be content, Valenzo should
Accept a life, on this condition.
Char.
Yet he may live, and still be vertuous.
Pier.
Why? so may I.
Char.
Yet he's thy friend.
Pier.
Am not I his too?
Char.
T'will be a glory to thee after death
That thou wert friendships martyr, a title
Will sit upon thy tombe, richer than all
Thy Heraldry; more lasting than thy marble.
Pier.
To shew how farre, I can preferre him to
My selfe, I am content this honour should be his.
56
False to thy friend, and vertue! that onely cam'st
To mocke calamitie, and midst our wrongs
Remaine our greatest injurie.
Pier:
Mistake mee not,
I onely did prepare you for a joy,
Which now you're ripe for:—know then, I return'd
Him scorne for all his flattering promises;
And stood resolv'd t'incounter with his fury,
Made hot by my disdaine.
Char:
Miracle of friendship.
Pier.
Since 'tis decreed that one of us must fall,
And onely one, my death shall free us both
From the lawes rigour, enjoy your best Valenzo,
Enjoy him long, may you (a happy paire)
Grow like two neighbouring roses on one stalke,
Partaking mutually each others sweetes;
Whence no rude hand approach to ravish you,
But when you are full blowne, and ripe for heaven,
May you fall gently both into one grave,
There lye intomb'd in your owne odours.
Char.
Piero, thou go'st
To heaven, to be the envy of the Saints;
For when thou com'st where those blest troopes reside,
No man shall ere direct a vow, or prayer,
But unto thee!—Valenzo take thy friend,
(Val: Enters)
Take him unto thy bosome, he has so much
Of heaven in him, I feare he can scarce die.
Val:
Is it your feare, Madame? can he deserve lesse in
Your faire opinion, than to be thought immortall?
That death at length should boast a victory
O're so much goodnesse.—Methinkes (Piero)
Thou should'st for ever stand a rich example,
To all mankind, who in thy fall will sicken,
And dye to vertue; injoy the happinesse
Of thine owne fate; I will not rob thee of
One precious minute; live till time has powr'd
A reverend snow upon thy head.—
57
But justice must be satisfied.
Val.
I'le bow my selfe beneath the stroake.
Pier:
To slay
The innocent, is not to expiate,
But make a crime, preserve thy selfe entire
To thy Charintha, King, and Country.
Val:
What!
And betray my friend to death?
Pier.
To what
I have deserv'd.
Val:
T'was thy too forward zeale, and a ripe spirit,
That spur'd thee on to action, thou didst it for
Thy friend, for mee, and had not justice bin
Wrong'd in't, the honour had bin mine, why not
The shame?
Pier:
You must not, shall not die.
Val:
No more!
'Twill prove a breach of friendship else, I must not,
Shall not die: my honour suffers double,
Thou wouldst foyle mee both in love, and valour.
Pier:
Pitty these teares.
Char:
Or in thy ruine I
Am lost.
Pier:
Justice requires but one, her fate
Is so involv'd in yours, you cannot fall,
But in it shee must finde a certaine death;
Thinke then, how can you satisfie the law?
Val.
Farre easier than you, in whose sad losse
The whole world suffers, and in thy unripe fall
Looses all goodnesse.
Char:
Stint this pious strife,
I have bin too much woman, and betrai'd
My name to infamy, in this tame passion:
Possesse mee a just anger, a spirit great
And noble as my birth; that I may shake,
And rowze this sleepy Prince, from his dull lethargie;
Who's wholy lost, in the bewitching flatteries
58
Too potent for your starres to free you from;
Henceforth I'le be your destinies: for since
This calme brings nothing but a certaine fall,
A storme shall either save, or ruine all.
(Exeunt.)
SCEN. III.
Ferrando. Ursini. Charintha.A Table is set forth; taper, pen, inke, &c.
Fer.
—Contemne our pardon.
Urs.
Returne your favours too
With so much scorne.
Fer:
Better they'd play'd with lightning,
Or hugg'd a thunderbolt.
Urs:
Justice is slow
Of pace, and if not led by furie,
Seldome o'retakes the crime, let your returne
Of punishment be quicke, and active, delay is worse
Than pitty, and more dangerous: Valenzo
Is popular, and who knowes, but hee had rather,
Owe his life to the peoples mutiny, than your pardon,
And therefore slighted it.
Fer:
Oh the state of Princes!
How farre are we from that securitie,
Wee dream't of in th'expectance of our crowne?
Were forraine dangers nothing, yet we nourish
Our ruine in our bosome: Valenzo is a traytour,
So is Piero too; and who is not in this age?
It is unsafe not to suspect our selfe.
To torture with 'em; be noble in thy justice:—
Here draw a warrant for their execution;—
We'le sign't with our owne signe;—hence pitty,
Post from our breast; we banish thee our bosome
Th'art a disease bred there to ruine Majestie:
And sink us below our subjects scorne.—
Ursini preparing to write.
Charintha?
(Enter Charintha.)
Our Princely cousin, welcome to Court; thou hast
59
And envy'd us the boast of vertue.
Char:
Vertue!
Urs.
Some malicious devill now, or other,
Has intic'd her from her beads;
To undoe mee, and my plots, shee carries anger
In her brow:—this I must mitigate, or I am
Lost.—
Fer:
Thou art so eager after heaven,
Thou woo't o're-buy thy happinesse.
Char:
Never fear't Sir.
Fer:
But thy devotion's season'd with so much charity,
Thou pil'st a stocke of merit up for us
At Court.
Char:
I beleeve y'had need on't.
Fer:
As long as we live here we shall;—
Char:
So wicked!
Fer:
Ha! what frowne's that, whence these clouds, Charintha?
So rises the blushing morne, as thou wert wont
To smile, when thou appear'dst, we owe
Our day unto thy eyes; and if thou think'st
Thy beautie's worne too cheape, we'le become tributaries
To thee for light; chase hence this fullen darknesse,
Thy absence has already made too long
A night.
Char:
No Sir; 'twas your blacke deeds:
Fer.
How's this?
Do'e know mee, who I am?
Char:
Not well.
Fer:
Your King.
Char:
A Tyrant
Of bigge, and glorious impieties,
A regall monster, the true head of that
Beast you rule, the multitude: more cruell
Than enrag'd lyons, or robb'd beares; who both
Will spare the innocent, and humble.
Fer:
Looke to'th Lady there, sure she's distracted.
60
My wrongs indeed would make mee so.
Fer:
What wrongs? whence? or from whom?
Char.
Raise not my anger higher with your scorne;—
Fer.
By all that's.—
Char.
Or if't be ignorance of my sufferings,
It but betrayes your want of reason, and
How farre you're lost to man, by your fond dotage.
Fer.
Grow more particular, or wonder ruines mee.
Char.
Good God! I've suffer'd so long, till patience
Grew my greatest crime.—
Urs.
Now, now the storme is coming this way,
But I'me prepar'd to meete it.
Char.
Whence? or from whom?
Aske this good man how often he has mourn'd
Over the ruines of my fame? how often
His eares have met with the report of my
Disgrace? how I was noys'd a strumpet? when
Each talking thing at Court, might freely act
A rape upon my vertue, till I was left
All a whole staine, blacke as the front of perjur'd
Sinners? while you, (as if I'de bin a trifle
Cast from your blood, and kindred, or some darke thing,
Whose actions were so fowly bad,
That report better'd 'em in the expression:)
Could sit as silent as the night; as calme
As seas, when the windes sleepe; yet at last be just;
And say, how have I appear'd to you, or him,
That calumnie has thus bin priviledg'd,
To violate my honour?
Urs.
Madame,
I have allwayes spoke you, chastities best example.
Fer:
Innocence it selfe is not so white.
Char.
Yet he that would confirme this with his sword,
Must meete, with prisons, wrackes, and tortures,
As a reward of so much vertue!
Fer.
Ha!
Urs.
Sweetest Princesse!—
61
And ere he die, must suffer in's honour,
Be proclaim'd traytor to the state:
Fer:
Ursini, thou hast abus'd our trust.
Urs.
My Lord.—
Char:
Too weake pretence, for your ingratitude
To so large merit; Naples call's him
Her chiefe preserver; he brought home victory,
By his owne arme atchiev'd, when the proud foe,
Threatned your Kingdome with a fatall downefall.
He, to whose arme you owe your life, your crowne,
To whom in warre, you'd sooner flie for helpe
Then to the Altar; now in peace must have
His temples robb'd; his garlands from his brow
Transplanted. to adorne this uselesse statua.
Urs.
Madame, I have not so appear'd in managing these
affaires of yours.
Char.
Would thou had'st,
Or somewhat that carries lesse resemblance
Of man: Oh thou art bravely wicked.
Urs.
I have not us'd the art to boast the vertue
Of mine owne actions; yet heaven knowes
They were all good, and aim'd at ends as honourable
As your desires.
Fer.
Ursini leave, till there is hope of pardon,
This impudence in sinne,
Bid's a defiance to all mercy; did we not,
At your perswasion, give order for Valenzo's
Quicke dispatch?
Urs:
How ere I seem'd (great Sir) to runne downe with
the streame of your violent passion, yet my intents still bore
up against it; witnesse this paper.
Fer:
Ha! What's here a pardon?
Deliver's a paper to Ferrando, who reades it.
Urs:
Which you had seal'd ere this, had not this Lady here
interrupted it.
Fer.
How?
Urs:
your passion would not have permitted you,
To have o're view'd what you consented too;
This I knew, as likewise how dangerous it.
62
Fer:
Againe my owne Ursini:—
Charintha, pardon our errours, we will deserve it,
By the future love, and honours we will throw
On our Valenzo,—here take my signet
Fetch 'em to Court.
Char:
You are noble.
Fer:
Ursini Waite on her to the Castle.
Urs.
You honour mee.
Fer.
Oh how neere were we destruction.
Reason sit still enthron'd in thine owne state,
T'is passion onely ruines Kings not fate.
(Exeunt.
SCEN: IV.
Bentivoglio. Alphonso. Grutti. Cassio. Violetta. Florinda.Bent:
—Hold up, hold up Sir, the Ladies are comming this
way,—for shame,—God's mee, they'r here; why do'e
tremble so Sir?
Alph:
A violent fit o'th ague; oh! oh! oh! have mee to bed
gently, gently, or I shall scatter all my limbes;
Bent:
Discredited for ever (here take this staffe Sir)—have
I boasted your strength to them?—fortifi'd you forth' incounter,
and you faile me thus?—undone, undone!
Alph:
Oh! oh! oh! for halfe a dozen of night caps.
Bent:
Here Sir, on with 'em; they'r some what durty, they'll
keepe you the warmer;—now shall I be call'd Mountebanke;
Quackesalver, Pispot-peeper: and all the ugly mangy names
can be invented.—come in, come in.—
Grut:
'Twill be a Scene of modest mirth, Ladies.
Cass.
The Physitian has cool'd him.
Bent:
Why Sir, you won't disgrace mee? go towards 'em.
Alph:
Some fire, some fire;—cold, cold, cold, cold.
Bent.
Here, here, on with my gowne:—this cap, so, so.
Grut:
Ladies, we'le take leave to be bold here, to vexe him.
Viol:
How do'e my Lord?
Flor.
We are come here to awart your pleasure.
63
The very thought on't has cast him into a cold sweat.
Alph:
Oh! oh!
Cass:
Now for fifty virgins.
Grut.
A monopoly of women.
Bent.
Hey, for a wench, for a wench, to bumfiddle now;
Ah! ha!
Alph.
Oh! ho! oh!
Bent.
Do'e remember you'd play the foole in my gowne,
and cap excellently.
Grut.
Well said Doctour.
Cass.
To him Doctour.
Bent.
Then a noyse of Musitians would do rarely.
Cass:
Looke he's nodding.
Viol:
My Lord you intend no abuse to us?
Flor:
Make us hazzard our credits for nothing?
Alph.
More clothes;—why hoe there, on my feete I say.
Grut.
He's dreaming.
Bent.
Fast, fast a sleepe, so, so, this charme last's till
Midnight, and then hee wakes.
Grut:
'Twill be good sport to see him then—
Bent.
Dance up and downe the Court like the ghost of old
Hippocrates.
Viol.
You must not expose him to the publike view.
Cass.
Mr Doctour you're sufficiently reveng'd, this is enough
for you to boast on when you come i'th University.
Bent.
This, and the rare cures I've done upon you two shall
be my theame.—Good night.—Ladies I'me your servant.
—My doughty placket-hunter lye thee there, and e'ne awake
when thy stomacke serves thee; to morrow morning I'me for
Padua.—
Exeunt.
SCEN. V.
Zisco, Ursini, &c.Zisc.
The night comes on apace, streight every thing
Will be as blacke as I, and alike terrible.
Nay out-doe mee too: each leafe that stirres
64
And yet this night, what is it but a shadow?
Yet I am lesse than that, for I do lesse:
I that have purpos'd so much, act nothing!
Horrour! could but my thoughts be seene, they'd owne
Murders, more than the basiliske could commit,
Were he all eye, more than revenge has acted,
Or than the triviall spight of plague, and warre
Produce, in their full heate.—Ursini be speedy
Or I'le outrunne designe.—
(Enter Ursini.
Urs:
Zisco.
Zisc.
My Lord.
Urs:
The houres are favourable
And have brought opportunitie along with 'em,
We must resolve for action.
Zis.
I'me prepar'd.
Urs:
But Zisco, art thou sure Felicia was.—
Zis.
Sure? puh! would you know? I my selfe
Am the Moore he caus'd to ravish her.
Urs.
And canst thou do't againe?
Zis.
Bravely.
Urs.
This night then thou shalt—ravish his Mistris,
Calantha! this night! I've prepar'd all things ready
For thy conveyance into her chamber—thou wilt doe't
Zis.
Resolv'd.
Urs.
And kill her too?
Zisc.
An shee were my mother.
(Enter Grutti.
Urs.
Obscure your selfe a while.—how now?
Grut.
My Lord, the French have kept their word,
And unespied have stolne from Genoa,
Enter'd our haven, and this night have set
Upon our fleete, the bold Sicilians too
I'th towne are up in armes.
Urs.
There spoke my Genius.
(Enter Cassio.
Cass:
My Lord! the Cittie's in a mutinie,
The Court in wild distraction.
Urs:
Well, beyond my hopes: excellent well; Grutti, Cassio,
be nere us, we must use your helpe to night.
Cass:
Valenzo playes from the Castle with his Canons,
And strikes both parties without distinction:
85
T'is thought he had intelligence of your intents.
Urs.
O my fate! that man undoe's mee.
Thus early sins are blasted in the bud,
There is no safety but in being good.
Exeunt.
| Sicily and Naples, or, the Fatall Vnion | |