 | The Vnfortunate Mother |  |
3 Scene.
Ent. Corv. Infelice.Inf.
What's this horrour
Presents it selfe? Is't reall or illusive?
My Spurio, Notho, dead! let my soule slight
To meet yours in the peacefull shades of rest.
Sownes,
Corv.
Madam looke up, suffer not your faint spirits
Thus to retire unto their inmost cells:
Let them dilate their vigour, and at once
Make all your sences usefull. This sad accident
If well consider'd is not of such consequence,
That it should shew how much our passions can
Out doe our reason.
Inf.
Give me more fresh ayre,
That I may draw it freely in t'increase
My sighes; not to preserve the breath that keepes
The different parts united. What sad influence
Order'd this Tragick action? or what motives
Could teach them to direct it to this end?
This most unnaturall end—
Corv.
Good Madam cease
Your exclamations; this may be apply'd
To better use from a consideration.
Your honour is secur'd, your shame prevented:
It was a mercy in high providence
Would you receive it so.
How weake is counsaile
To desperate frailty? 'tis not your Art can
Perswade me to a comfort, being lost
To all that should revive it. In these two
Were lodg'd such a proportion of
My living joyes, in their cold earth remaines
All my hopes dead and frozen, unto which
They whilst they liv'd gave life. If there were vertue
In teares to warme your numb'd and bloodlesse limbes,
Into new life and motion, I would bath them
With a large slood: and when the springs were dry
Wish my selfe chang'd into a weeping marble
To be your monument.
Corv.
Be not transported
Into such vaine expressions.
Infe.
Vaine advise,
My griefes are like to Walls resisting Darts,
They'l beate thy counsailes backe to thy owne danger.
Corvino you were surely false, and taught
The youths this way to ruine. One more sigh
Will cracke my hearts weake cordage, and the vessell
Wanting its helpes, yeeld to the onely guidance
Of the distracted waves till it be swallow'd.
I thought my patience could have met with cheerefulnesse
Any crosse storme of fortune; this hath kild it.
Forgive me Heaven, translate my penitent
And reconcil'd soule to a better mansion
Then that she's lodg'd in now. Divide my heart
You two. Corvino beare my dying blessings
Unto Macario—Oh—
Dyes.
Corv.
Will you then dye?
And so prevent me? for I did not meane
You should survive them, though I order'd not
Their deaths; retaine your sences yet a little.
Live but to heare me, and I will relate
All that my knowledge ownes concerning it;
And the new policies that I have built
Upon these happy accidents; for hitherto
Fortune hath bin my Matchiaveile, and brought
Events about I never practis'd for.
One stood betwixt my high ends, and the other
Begot continuall feare of a new danger
By her discovery. I shall be perfect now
In all things but revenge upon your scorne,
And the neglect of my deservings; will you not
Stay then to heare me? Farewell.
| The Vnfortunate Mother | |