 | The bloodie banqvet |  |
Scene. 2.
Thunder and lightning. A blazing starre appeares. Enter Tyrant.Tyr.
Ha? thunder? and thou marrow melting blast
Quicke winged lightning; and thou blazing starre,
I like not thy prodigious bearded fire;
Thy beames are fatall: ha? behold the Influence
Of all their malice in my childrens ruines?
Their states malignant powers have envyde,
And for some hast strucke with their envies dy'd:
Tis omenous; within there?
Enter Sertorio and Lodovico.
Lod.
Here my Lord.
Tyr.
Conveigh those bodies a while from my sight.
Both dead my Lord.
Tyr.
Yes, and we safe, our death we need lesse feare,
Vsurpers issue oft proves dangerous,
We depose others, and they poyson us,
I have found it on Records, tis better thus.
Enter the Old King, Lapirus, Fidelio, Amorpho, all disguised like Pilgrims.
Lap.
My Lord, this Castle is but slightly guarded.
King.
Tis as I hop'd and wish'd; now blesse us heaven,
What horrid and inhumaine spectacle
Is yonder that presents it selfe to sight?
Fid.
It seemes three quarters of a man hung up.
Kin.
What Tiranny hath beene exercis'd of late? I dare not venture on.
Amo.
Feare not my Lord, our habits give us safety.
Lap.
Behold, the Tyrant maketh toward us.
Tyr.
Holy, and reverent Pilgrims, welcome.
Kin.
Bold strangers, by the Tempest beaten in.
Tyr.
Most welcome still, wee are but stewards for such guests as you,
What we possesse is yours, to your wants due,
We are onely rich for your necessities.
King.
A generous, free, and charitable minde
Keepes in thy bosome to poore Pilgrims kinde.
Tyr.
Tis time of day to dine my friends; Sertorio?
Enter Sertorio.
Ser.
My Lord?
Tyr.
Our food.
Ser.
Tis ready for your highnesse.
Loud Musicke. A banquet brought in, and by it a small Table for the Queene.
Tyr.
Sit, pray sit, religious men right welcome
Vnto our Cates. Grave sir I have observ'd
You waste the vertue of your serious eye
Too much on such a worthlesse objects as that is.
A Traytor when he liv'd call'd that his flesh;
Let hang, here's to you, we are the oldest here,
Round let it goe, feede, if you like your cheere.
Ser.
My Lord.
Tyr.
How now?
Ser.
Ready my Lord.
Tyr.
Sit merry.
Exit.
King.
Where ere I looke these limbes are in mine eye.
Lap.
Some wretch on whom he wrought his Tyranny.
Fid.
Hard was his fate to light into his mercy.
Amorp.
Peace, he comes.
Soft Musicke. Enter the Tyrant with the Queene, her haire loose, she makes a Curtsie to the Table. Sertorio brings in the flesh with a skull all bloody, they all wonder.
Tyr.
I perceive strangers more desire to see
An object than the fare before them set;
But since your eyes are serious Suitors growne
I will discourse; what's seene shall now be knowne.
King.
Your bounty every way conquers poore strangers.
Tyr.
Yon Creature whom your eyes so often visit
Held mighty sway over our powers and thoughts,
Indeed we were all hers
Besides her graces, there were all perfections;
Vnlesse she speakes, no musicke: till her wishes
Brought forth a monster, a detested issue
Poysoning the thoughts I held of her.
The Old King sends forth Amorpho.
She did from her owne ardour undergoe
Adulterous basenesse with my profesied foe;
Her lust strangely betray'd, I ready to surprize them,
Set on fire by the abuse, I found his life
Cunningly shifted by her owne deare hand
And far enough convey'd from my revenge:
Vnnaturally she first abus'd my heart,
And then prevented my revenge by Art.
Yet there I left not; though his trunke were cold
My wrath was flaming, and I exercis'd
New vengeance on his carcase; and gave charge
The body should be quarter'd and hung up; twas done,
To taste no other sustenance; no nor dares
Till her loves body be consum'd in hers.
Kin.
The sinne was great, so is the pennance greivous.
Tyr.
Our vow is sign'd.
Kin.
And was he Lydian borne?
Tyr.
He was no lesse, sonne to mine Enemie,
A banisht King; Tymethes was his name.
Kin.
Oh me, my sonne Tymethes.
Lap.
Passion may spoyle us: sir, we oft have heard
Of that old King his father; and that justly
This Kingdome was by right due to his sway.
Tyr.
It was, I thinke it was, till we call'd in
By pollicy and force deceiv'd his confidence,
Shew'd him a tricke of warre and turn'd him out.
Kin.
Sinnes boast is worse than sinne.
Enter Fidelio.
Fid.
All's sure, the guards are seiz'd on.
Lap.
Good.
Fid.
The Passage strongly guarded.
Tyr.
Holy sir, what's he?
Lap.
Our brother, a poore Pilgrime, that gives notice
Of a Religious father that attends
To beare us company in our Pilgrimage.
Tyr.
Oh, ho, tis good, tis very good.
Kin.
Alas poore Lady, it makes mee weepe to see what food she eates.
I know your mercy will remit this pennance.
Tyr.
Never, our vow's irrevocable, never;
The Letcher must be swallowed rib by rib,
His flesh is sweete, it melts, and goes downe merrily,
They discover themselves.
Ha? what are these?
Lap.
Speranza.
Tyr.
Ha?
King.
Villaine, this minute looses thee, thou Tyrant.
Tyr.
Pilgrims weare armes? the old King? and Lapirus?
Betrayd? confounded? oh, I must dye forsworne;
He kils his Queene.
Oh happie man, tis more revenge to me
Then all your aymes, I have kill'd my jealousie.
I have nothing now to care for more than hell
'T had beene if you had strucke me ere she fell.
I had left her to your lust, the thought is bitternesse,
But she first falne; ha, ha, ha.
King.
Dye cruell murtherous Tyrant.
They all discharge at him.
Tyr.
So, laugh away this breath,
My lust was nere more pleasing than my death.
Dyes.
Lap.
As full possest as ever, and as rich
In Subjects hearts and voyces; we present thee
The compleat sway of this usurped Kingdome.
Kin.
I am so borne betwixt the violent streames
Of Ioy and passion, I forget my state;
To all our thankes and favours, and what more
We are in debt to all your free consent
We will discharge in happie governement.
Enter the Old Queene disguised, a Boy with her.
Que.
The peacefull'st reigne that ever Prince enjoy'd.
Kin.
Already a Petition? suitors begin betimes
We are scarce warme in our good fortune yet, what are you?
Que.
Vnworthiest of all the joyes this houre brings forth.
She discovers.
Kin.
Our dearest Queene?
Que.
Your poore distressed Queene.
Kin.
Oh let me light upon that constant brest,
And kisse thee till my soule melt on thy lips:
Our Joyes were perfect, stood Tymethes there,
We are old; this Kingdome wants a hopefull heire.
Que.
Your joyes are perfect though he stand not there,
And your wish blest behold a hopefull heire:
Stand not amaz'd, 'tis Manophes.
Kin.
How just the Gods are? who in their due time
Returne what they tooke from us.
Que.
Happy houre,
For though your elder met ill fate, good heaven
Hath thus preserv'd your yonger for your heire.
Kin.
Prepare those limbes for honourable buriall,
And noble Nephew all your ill is lost
In your late new borne goodnesse, which we'le reward,
No storme of fate so fierce but time destroyes,
And beates backe miserie with a peale of Joyes.
Exeunt omnes.
| The bloodie banqvet | |