University of Virginia Library

Scena. 4.

Andrugio out of prison. Cassandra on the stage.
An.
My Cassandra what newes, good sister showe?

Cas.
All thinges conclude thy death Andrugio:
Prepare thy selfe, to hope it ware in vaine.

An.
My death, alas what raysed this new disdayne?

Cas.
Not Iustice zeale, in wicked Promos sure:

An.
Sweete, show the cause, I must this dome indure?

Cas.
If thou dost liue I must my honor lose,
Thy raunsome is, to Promos fleshly wyll
That I do yelde: then which I rather chose,
With torments sharpe, my selfe he first should kyll:
Thus am I bent, thou seest thy death at hand,
O would my life, would satisfie his yre,
Cassandra then, would cancell soone thy band.

An.
And may it be a Iudge of his account,
Can spot his minde, with lawles loue or lust?
But more, may he doome any fault with death?
When in such faute, he findes himselfe iniust.
Syster, that wise men loue we often see,
And where loue rules, gainst thornes doth reason spurne.
But who so loues, if he reiected be,
His passing loue, to peeuish hate will turne.
Deare sister then, note how my fortune stands,
That Promos loue, the like is oft in vse:
And sith he craue, this kindnesse, at your hands,
Thinke this, if you his pleasure do refuse.
I in his rage (poore wretch) shall sing Peccaui.
Here are two euyls, the best harde to digest,
But where as things are driuen vnto necessity,
There are we byd, of both euyls choose the least:

Cas.
And of these euils, the least, I hold is death,
To shun whose dart, we can no meane deuise,
Yet honor lyues, when death hath done his worst,
Thus fame then lyfe is of farre more emprise:

An.
Nay Cassandra, if thou thy selfe submyt,
To saue my life, to Promos fleashly wyll,
Iustice wyll say, thou dost no cryme commit:
For in forst faultes is no intent of yll.

Cass.
How so th'intent, is construed in offence,
The Prouerbe saies, that tenne good turnes lye dead,
And one yll deede, tenne tymes beyonde pretence,
By enuious tounges, report abrode doth spread:
Andrugio so, my fame, shall vallewed bee,
Dispite wyll blase my crime, but not the cause:
And thus although I fayne would set thee free,
Poore wench I feare, the grype of slaunders pawes.

An.
Nay sweete sister more slaunder would infame,
Your spotles lyfe, to reaue your brothers breath:
When you haue powre, for to enlarge the same,
Once in your handes, doth lye my lyfe, and death.
Way that I am, the selfe same flesh you are,
Thinke I once gone, our house will goe to wrack:
Knowe forced faultes, for slaunder neede not care:
Looke you for blame, if I quaile through your lack.
Consider well, my great extremitie,
If other wise, this doome I could reuoke:
I would not spare, for any ieberdye:
To free thee wench, from this same heauy yoke.
But ah I see, else, no way saues my life.
And yet his hope, may further thy consent,
He sayde, he maye percase make thee his wife,
And t'is likelie, he can not be content
With one nights ioye: if loue he after seekes,
And I dischargd, if thou aloofe then be,
Before he lose thy selfe, that so he leekes,
No dought but he, to marryage, wyll agree.

Cas.
And shall I sticke to stoupe, to Promos wyll,
Since my brother inioyeth lyfe thereby?
No, although it doth my credit kyll,
Ere that he should, my selfe would chuse to dye.
My Andrugio, take comfort in distresse,
Cassandra is wonne, thy raunsome great to paye,
Such care she hath, thy thraldome to releace:
As she consentes, her honor for to slay.
Farewell, I must, my virgins weedes forsake:
And lyke a page, to Promos lewde repayre.

Exit.
An.
My good sister to God I thee betake,
To whome I pray, that comforte change thy care.