University of Virginia Library

ACT: V.

SCEN. I.

Valenzo, Contareno, Galeotto, Gonçales.
Val:
—'Tis late.
Each man retire to his quarter: Captaines,
We entertaine your merit with a serious welcome.

Gal.
Our deserts, my Lord,
Are so slender, that wer't not to prejudice
Your judgement, we would blush to owne any.

Cont.

Hang this flattery, merit quotha? is't such a piece of
merit to cut a score or two of throats; knocke downe an hundred
o'th citty herd? a gallant could do so much for's Cockatrice.

Val:
The King shall give you each particular thankes:
He owes you both a trophey,

Gal.
His acknowledgement
Of our duty, would raise our pride to sinne,
We should forget to let heaven share i'th victory.

Cont:

Victories, by Mars's crest it deserves not to come i'th
Chronicle, though Hollinshead or Hall, those voluminous
forreiners should write our annals, 'twill ne're make us justle
in among the Cæsars, or owne a name i'th list o'th worthies.

Val.

No Contareno, wee will not have thee painted in vile
ugly colours, and clapt upon chimneies, thou shalt be cut—

Cont.
In brasse? mine would make an excellent brazen face?

Val:
In Parian marble, wee'le rob the Quarries
To reare thee up a glorious monument.

Cont.

A glorious loame to set lazie spiders a worke in, an
office for birds to mute in, if these be your glorious monumēts
for men of armes, I'le e'en live to sin out my merit (as you call
it) then when I die, the world and I will shake hands, and cry
quit of all sides.

Val.

Hee that should heare thee talke thus, and not know

thee well, would doubt thy valour.

Cont:
Hercules! an hee did he should try it.

Val.
T'were punishment enough.
(Enter Gonçales.
Gonçales—I gratulate thy navall victory;
France will have cause hereafter to mention thee in sad story,
Thou giv'st them but a churlish salutation.

Gon.
Such as they deserv'd,
It seemes they came rather to steale than fight,
They were as ill prepar'd, as they had meant
To beare our empty hulkes away unquestion'd;
For soone as they perceived we descri'd 'em,
Pale, as the lillies in their trembling flagges,
They turn'd their sailes, and fled; we made after 'em,
With swift wing'd lightning from our Canons mouth,
Which sunke and fir'd 'em all, ere they could quit
The channell, or gaine the wider Ocean;

Val.
Beleeve mee, noble Souldier, thou art deare
To fame; as old in victory, as in yeares,
Yet still thou toyl'st t'undoe thy selfe, and benefit
Thy ingratefull soyle, which never will be able
To requite thy meanest service.

Gon:
Yet you for the same cause, i'th pride of youth,
Oppos'd your selfe betwixt the state and danger,
When their sicke hopes, were as their fortunes, desperate;
Reduc'd a Kingdome to your sway, in whose
Rich spoyles, your gawdie Souldier triumphs;
Whilst boasting of their rifled plumes, they drinke
Health's to victory; yet those so moderate,
Their bowles encrease their fury, not their surfeits.

Cont.
How these tall men o'th sword claw one another?

Gal:
They have an itch of pride runnes through 'em.

Val.
The Hero's, when thou com'st into Elyzium,
To give thee place, shall shift their blessed mansions.

Gon:
And load thee with their lawrells.

SCEN: II.

To them Calantha disguised.
Cal:
How my feares betray mee! shunning
One toyle, I runne into another.

Cont:
Che va la?

Cal.
Oh mee! I'me surpriz'd.

Cont:
Spirit of valour th'art my prisoner.

Val.
Ha! whom have you there?

Cal:
(Valenzo! my voyce betrayes mee.)

Cont.
A young Sicilian, shall I draw my steele,
And give him a gentle stroke?

Cal.

Lend mee my sword—and be thou what thou wilt
I dare thee to thy worst.

Cont:
Bravely spoke,—set forward then.—

Val.
Traytour! the Princesse! Calantha!

Cont.
All the better; she's skilfull at her weapon,
We'le but exchange a thrust in sport.

Gal. & Gon.
Ha! what meanes this flight?

Cal.
Dare none of you fight?

Val.
Deare Lady, not with you.

Cal,
Then you are cowards, they speake you so i'th Citty,
And I came out thus purposely to try you.

Val.
If you please, you shall quickly see that,
Command us sheath our swords in one anothers
Bosomes—we'le fly like lightning to êxecute your
Commands;—you're our Princesse.

Cal.
No, I'me your Prince's murthresse.

Omnes.
How?

Cal:
I've kill'd your King: will none
Dispatch mee yet?

Gon:
Sure she's distracted.

Val:
We must disarme you Lady;—t'is a duty to our Prince
Was never till now unwillingly perform'd!
You must backe to'th Court, whither we'le waite upon you.

Cal:
Villaines, cowards,

(Exeunt Val. Gon. Cal:)
Gal:
The Princesse! what made shee abroad so late?

Cont.
Did she not say that shee had kill'd the King too?

Gal:
Come let's walke the round; things are yet unsetled.

Cont.

'Tis so darke now, an the divell should lye perdieu I
should go neere to stumble on's hornes.

Exeunt.

SCEN. III.

Florinda. Violetta. Felicia,
(going to bed.)
Flor.
Too much of this sad story, Oh these men
How are they degenerate from the goodnesse
Of their creation! they have beene alwaies false—

Viol.
Silly as we are,
We know it; their vowes and othes are traytours
To us, and yet we hugge them, let them into our bosomes,
Into our hearts, till they undoe us?

Flor:
But Madame, why do'e desire us to leave you?
Fear you not his fury, what it may prompt him too,
When he shall see you are not his Calantha.

Fel.
He never was acquainted with that passion,
He's violent in nothing,—But in love.

Viol.
And yet he may dissemble that too
As well as his vowes.

Fel.
Should hee? were his hand
Lift up to strike mee, I can charme it there!
Who can looke on a Ladies bended knees,
Wet cheekes, swolne eyes, heare her sighs, her prayers,
And yet be cruell: If there be one that can,
That one is not Ferrando; his bosome is
Passable to every grone; it strikes his heart:
He would tell mee (when he was absent)
If I sigh't, or wept, for then he said
He wept and sigh'd by sympathy.

Viol.
Yet now he loves you not.

Fel:
Can hee not love himselfe? here, here I beare him,
Himselfe in a lesse modell, this I'le shew him,
If he mistrust t'is none of his; let him
But rip mee up, there he shall see each limbe
As like to his, as his one hand, one eye,
One cheeke is like the other: besides there lyes
Folded by his owne name, he told mee hee
Would call it so, (Ferrando,) and lest I
Should chance forget, I wrote it in my heart,
There he will finde it.

Flor.
Good Lady!

Viol:
T'is a sad nuptiall night, this.

Fer:
I'le tell him too how hee
Would grieve if I were dead, goe hanging downe
His head, vailing his eyes from heaven, asham'd
To looke up to the place, where his Felicia is:
Or poring on the ground, as he would finde
Where my neglected ashes lay a sport
To th'windes; where some rude blast might blow mee up
Into his eyes, and then hee'd weepe to finde,
Mee there; weepe till the fretting brine had burn'd
His eye-bals out.
He told mee of his dreames, what pleasure hee
Had to finde me in 'em: alas they will
Be terrible now: I shall affright him, appeare
A thin pale ghost, make him start out in his sleepe;
(Alas! I will not) yet he'le dreame he heard mee,
Cry out, Ferrando! revenge upon Ferrando:
This cannot chuse but startle him.—

Viol:
Heaven grant it may.

Flor:
Madame all joy that we can hope, or wish,
Be with you.

Fer:
—I'le goe alone into the bed-chamber.
There expect him,—pray leave mee.

Flor.
Good night, I heare him coming.

(Exeunt severally.

SCEN: IV.

Ferrando, Ursini.
Fer:
Our Navie victour.

Urs.
The City quiet too! those clouds
Which threatned ruine to your Kingdome, all.
Blowne o're; the skie serene and calme, as if.
It laugh't at your vaine feares; the lampes of heaven
That now seem'd all blowne out, are trimm'd a new
And brighter shine, to lead you to Elyzium.

Fer:
To Heaven, Elyzium's poore to what wee shall
Enjoy to night.

Urs:
The land of some dull villager
Or doughty Poëts dreames.

Fer:
The birth of fancie,
A thin, fantasticke, aierie paradise;
With which they flatter their weake hopes, but mine
Is knowne to sense; we gather odours there; wealthy
In their native sweetenesse, flowers of a hew
As bright as lasting, roses and lillies
Blowne from their stalkes, meete here, and dwell upon
Her cheekes, as if there onely they were priviledg'd
To enjoy an everlasting spring.

Urs.
Let your
Imaginations feed even to a surfet, your senses
Are too too weake, and narrow t'entertaine
The bounteous flowing of her pleasures:
You'le let so much passe by unknowne,
As if you tooke but tribute of her blessings;
When the whole stocke is yours.

Fer:
We'le be her Mars, and meete her in soft skirmish,
In amorous duell, where we'le softly yeeld
And let her winne: (to raise her to the pride
Of a new victory, as much upon our selves
As we have done upon her Country,
Then shall shee binde us gently in her haire
Fetters for Captive lovers, and in scorne
Of our trimme youth, and temperate blood, when we
Begin to faint within her armes, shall then
Supply us with new strength from her own eyes;
Whence she will dart a soule at every glance
Rich as her selfe, and the blest smiles t'is made of;
Create an active flame within our breast
Able to give old statua's life and motion,
Make their stiffe marble feete supple as the joynts
Of love:—oh I'me lost! my Venus
Come; lead to my Venus.

Urs:
Your Cynthia,—your Moone
With a man in her—there there's
Curteine drawne, Felicia discovered lying upon a bed, Zisco, as having ravish't, and then slain her.
Your way, why move you not?
How you stand.

Fer:
Ursini, Ha! Se'st thou that blacke thing there?
That ugly fiend, I'le out-stare thee, devill.

Urs.
Where are you Sir?

Zis:
'Tis done.

Fer:
Ravish't! Calantha's ravish't—oh torment!
Grim fury post to hell.

Zis:
Pardon mee Sir,
I've a little businesse to dispatch first—
(stabs him.
This for Felicia, thus Alberto fell.

Fer.
Oh I'me wounded.

Zis:
Ha! do'e know mee Prince?

(puls off his disguise.)
Urs:
Frederico! just heavens.

Zis.
Stay your hand—be innocent in your revenge,
Let me beare all the guilt.

Urs:
Could'st thou thinke, dull Prince, that heaven so
Doated on thy royaltie, thy crowne, thy scepter,
Or regall pall could beare thee out in sin?
Or the weake shine of triviall state dazle
Their eyes that looke upon the blessed sunne!
Could'st thou flatter thy selfe into such a Security,
That vengeance would not finde thee out?
When thou had'st surfeited thy luxurious palate
With all the dainties of Felicia's body
Thirsted her blood, quaff'd off whole bowles of it,
Till thou wer't drunke, and wild with fury
Of thy intemperate draughts—Am not I a rare villaine now?

Fer.
Mad, starke mad, besides himselfe,
(aside)
Sure this is but a dreame, and I asleepe.

Zis:
Thus, thus I'le wake you:—

(stabs him.)
Fer:
Oh my blood scalds, h'has shot wild fire into my heart,
Ah traytour, thy steele is poyson'd.

Urs.
Frederico, let mee embrace thee:
Now our revenge is perfect.

A noyse within. Enter fighting, Valenzo, Grutti, Gonçales, Cassio, Calantha.
Grut:
Your passage lyes this way.

Cass:
Thorough us.

Val:
Treason, treason, raise the Court.

Gon:
Breake ope the doores.

Urs:
We are betray'd.

Val:
Villaine I greete thy heart.

(kils him.)
Cass.
Where tends your businesse?

Gon:
Slave to hell, and thou shalt carry't thither.

(kils him.
Fer:
Fire, fire, the poyson boyles my entrals.

Val:
The Prince wounded!

Gon:
Where are the traitours?

Zis:
Here I am his murtherer.

Val:
Frederico.

Urs:
Valenzo, I am o'recome.—

(Flings him his sword.
Fer:

New miracles, Calantha, my best, my dearest love:—
Oh I am sicke, stand off Calantha, my breath's so hot, 'twill
singe thee else; and licke thy beauty's up, like nimble flames;

But dost thou live?

Cal:
To curse thee false and perjur'd.

Fer:
The spheares are out of tune; nature's distraught;
The orbes celestiall have turn'd round so long
That they are giddie: the starres are in a mutiny,
The Intelligences are altogether by'th eares.

Cal:
Heaven! I blesse your justice:
Sterne tyrant! that triumph'st o're the memory
Of my father, mock'st mee with love,
Till like a foole I doated on my fetters,
'Cause they were golden ones, that thus
Thy devillish art might make my soule a captive,
With my body.

Fer.
Ænigmaticall.

Cal:
Yet then a Lady mourn'd thy perjur'd vowes,
Whom thou betrayd'st to loose adultery.

Fer:
Thy speech, Calantha, is darker than an Oracle.

Cal:
Truer it is, and dar'st thou yet dissemble it?
'Tis a truth precious to time, who will preserv't
To blast thy memory, and derive a staine
On all thy successours.

Urs., Zis.
How? or when arriv'd this your knowledge Madame?

Cal:
Felicia told mee all her selfe
Confirm'd it by religious oathes; besides
This medall which she gave mee from her necke,
A pledge of his broke faith, with the sad fruits
Of his sate lust, within her wombe.

Fer:
She's a blacke whore: shee lies; beleeve her not.

Cal.
Thou wilt be damn'd:

Fer.
So may I; and houle eternally
In those blew flames the devils bath in,
If ever my vowes were made to any other
Then thee; and those, as spotlesse as thy soule.—

Urs:
But whom have wee here?

Cal.
Felicia! Sad Lady she intreated
This night's exchange of place; that she might shew him
What an untimely mother he had made her,
And this 'twas caus'd my flight.

Fer:
Felicia!

Cal:
Ha! murder'd.

Urs.
My love.

Zis.
My sister! ravish't:
And murder'd by! mee, incestuous villaine!

Urs.
Didst thou not tell mee that Ferrando ravish't her,
And cast her to his slaves, a prey to their
Bold appetites and furies.

Zis.
To incense you the more against him; I told you
What I onely did imagine, because at my returne
From Sicily, report whisper'd hwisper'd her lost,
Lost in the ruines of my Father,
Which made mee thinke her murder'd.

Urs:
Ye Gods! I now acknowledge you supreame:
Your power is mighty over our fond arts.
Silly projectours we ensnare our selves!
Whilst we spread nets for others.
This braine has wrought all these sad plots,
Calantha, take your Lord; who is as true,
And holy in his vowes, as those blest Saints
He invok't.

Cal:
And yet Felicia wrong'd?

Urs.
'Twas I by whom she swell'd, and not Ferrando,
As 'twas suppos'd.

Cal:
Suppos'd! she swore 'twas hee.

Fer:
Ursini, farewell; I'le heare the rest anon—

(dies.
Urs.
That aggravates my crime, who wrought her into
This false beliefe, for having long lov'd her,
Without returne of mutuall flames, and at length
Finding that the impediment was her fond
Dotage upon the Prince; I determin'd,
Rather than not to be possest of her,
To part with faith and loyaltie, feign'd all
My visits for him, courted her acceptation
Of his love, which I so darkly brought about
That she consenting to private meetings
As oft as she expected the Prince,
I my selfe fill'd her armes.—

Gal:
Then you conclude Ferrando innocent?

Urs:
In act, or thought.

Zis:
Felicia! sister! your brother Frederico call's;
She's gon, cold, cold! and pale, and yet methinkes
She smiles, looke up, Felicia—

Cal.
But how came it to passe she nere discry'd you?

Urs.
For reasons I then gave her: all our meetings
Were in the night, and that i'th darke too, where I
Dissembled so the Prince in voyce and gesture.—

Cal.

This agrees right with her relation: villaine thou haste
undone mee.

Urs.

And my selfe too.

Zisc.

Death hangs upon her lids, 'tis eternall night with
her. hoa, sister, stay, take mee along with you; I'le follow
you.

(Stabs himselfe.)
Val.
Pernicious traytour.

Cal.
Rage choakes my utterance:—give mee your sword.

Val., Gon.
Our hearts and hands are yours:

Cal.
Ile be an age in killing thee, do'st tremble?
Thou look'st like one of those thin frozen ghosts,
That chattering lye on hils of thicke-ribb'd Ice,
Come meete my fury.

Urs.
Here, here's my heart.

Cal.
I: I'le dig it out,
And cast it to the hungry fiends.

Zis:

My strength decayes, I reele and totter like a crack't
reed that leanes against the windes.

Cal:
Take your sword.—

Urs:
Madame.

Cal:
Take it I say.

Val.
You do him too much honour.

Cal:
Manag't with skill and strength, or thou affront'st
My honour,—faint-hearted! coward, I'le follow thee to hell.

Urs.
Mercy heavens!

(He falls.)
Zis.

Ho! Charon, more company, lye farther there jolthead,
what quarrelling you dogs? thy oare, thy oare ferriman:
clap 'em o'th sconce with't, there, there.

Val.
The Gods are just.

Gon:
You wore their cause upon your sword.

Cal:
'Tis poore revenge this, can he not live againe?
Start up from th'earth with life, and double strength?
Wer't centupled I'de meete him:—but oh my eyes!
Looke here Valenzo: which is Prince, which subject.
Which is my lov'd Ferrando? I see there is
No ceremonious state, no pompe in death;
They all lye levell, all quiet, the bad as well
As the good, why should this traytour here
This divellish arch, arch-traytour lye as silent
As his Lord? should he not stare, 'and foame,
Start up and howle, till he wakes all the dead?

Val:
Lady:

Gon:
Her old passion returnes againe.

Cal.
—Roare, and curse heavens,
But they too have forgot to punish sinners,
And reward vertue, here's an example on't;
We were both vertuous, and deserv'd not this
Bad usage; let mee embrace thee:—
Cold as the earth he lyes on, and as dull too:
Where is the soule, that busie slame that lent
Him life and motion? affected such vaine pompe
And glorious noyse: whither is't fled? poore livelesse trunke,
It was unkindly done to leave thee thus,
A prey to wormes and rottennesse.

Zis.
Are you there fury, Megæra, Tisiphone, Alecto,
Howle, howle, furies, I'le lash you.

Cal.
Kind death th'art welcome; I kisse thy dart.

Stabs Calantha, and dies.
Gon.
The Princesse! she's slaine, unluckie hand.

Cal:
Spight of our starres, and all rude opposition,
We are one in death: Valenzo see us interr'd,
Both in one tombe, that we may mingle ashes
And be securely lodg'd, you know our soules
Were one; our hearts were long united.

Val.
A Fatall Union.

Cal:
Draw, draw the curteines there, my love and I
Must sleepe;—uncivill I protest, put out the lights,
We shall sleepe best i'th darke; pray don't disturbe us,

You may fright him from mine armes,—but—I'le—hold—
him—fast.

(dyes.)
Val.
The ruin'd treasure of two Kingdomes
In one heape.

(Enter Charintha, Piero, Violetta, Florinda, Alphonso.
Char.
In the bed-chamber! this way!

Pier.
Yes Lady, the cry was full of horrour.

Viol:
'Twas the Physitians potion this my Lord.

Flor:
Done in revenge.

Alph:
Would 'thad bin poyson.

Char:
Blesse mee! whence all these tragedies.

Pier:
Astonishment ceizes mee.

Alph.

The King:

Calantha:
Ursini dead, ha! whom have we here, Frederico.

Val.
Yes, and Felicia too.

Omnes.
All slaine; by what dire hand?

Val:
I'le tell you that within.—
Charintha is your Queene.

Pier:
May you be happy in her love.

Val:

Remove the bodies, i'th morning we will take order
for the state, and funerall rites.

Of these; the lasting story of whose wrongs
Shall be all royall lovers evening songs.