 | Imperiale, a tragedie |  |
Scena Tertia.
Molosso. Sango. Francisco.Mol.
He's now made sure, I must with speed find out
Yong Spinola, and speake with Sango too,
Behold 'um both together, t'will succed;
San.
See where Molosso comes, sir.
Fran.
O t'is hee.
How is't Moloss? thy face hath busines in't
I would thou wert at leasure.
Mol.
My toil'd body
Will not admit a cheerefull countenance;
But I can throw of care if you command.
Wouldst thou embrace redemption?
Mol.
Aske me whether
I would not wish some shade if I were broil'd
Vpon the Libian Sands, where Cancer raignes:
But Sir if I mistake not, you sustaine
A greater servitude, yet seeke not freedome.
Fra.
Thou wouldst perswade me to shake off Loves fetters.
Mol.
Rather to change them into chaines of gold,
To wealth and ornament; it may be done
Without your Chimicall projection.
Fra.
Thou shouldst not stand in need of that t'inrich thee,
Could this b'effected.
Mol.
Sir, I have no art,
Nor leisure to discourse, but I have heard
There is by fate an opportunity
Allotted every man, to make him rich
And happy too, provided he take hold,
And I am confident that's offer'd you.
Fra.
What? to enjoy divine Angelica?
No treasure else can make me rich or happy.
Mol.
When she is brought into your own possession,
You can but blame your selfe, if she depart.
Fra.
I shall destroy my selfe if then she scape,
But how? prithy convey thy joyfull newes
Into me by a reverend secrecie,
That I may be all eare, while thou art whispering.
They whisper.
San.
What plot should this be now? I long to know,
Molosso doubts some accident may happen
Vpon his Masters death, and wisely seekes
To gaine a friend, under whose safe protection
He may be sheltred from a sudden storme;
I have an equall share in the successe
Of his designes; his preservation's mine,
And therefore need not be inquisitive,
Th'assured fate of his obdurate Lord
May make that good hee promiseth; the daughter,
If once the Father were remov'd, perhaps
Be sensible of Dorias neglects:
Who can condemne this yong mans hot desire?
Were I as free, as noble as himselfe,
I should most willingly become her slave,
And I doe hate my forc't condition
For no one ill so much, as that it brings
Despaire of such transcendent happinesse
Fra.
I'me ravisht with it, 'tis the sprightfull childe
Of thine owne braine, and will not brook delay.
Mol.
That's true: I'le see that all things be prepar'd:
If the least wheele be out of frame, the watch
Is altogether uselesse.
Fra.
Winde it up,
That I may observe each minute of the time
That is the Crysis of my life or death:
First take a taste of my ensuing bounty,
It may relieve thee, should we be discover'd:
If by this plot my present hopes succeed,
All future Lovers shall thy story reade.
| Imperiale, a tragedie | |