 | The tragedie of Lodovick Sforza Dvke of Millan |  |
1
Actus primi
Scena prima.
Galeazzo Duke of Millane, Isabella his Wife.Gal.
Why weeps my Deare?
Isab.
Aske why I do not weep:
(Poore Isabella are thy teares deny'd thee?)
Aske why thus long such a succession
Of sorrow clogs my bosome, and does rob
So much of Woman from mee, as complaints.
Aske why I doe not raue, teare my haire, thus,
Create a griefe, which Fate would spare me, then
Cloud the sad Ayre with sighes, and at the last,
With a bold stab take from insulting Fortune
The miserable obiect of her sport:
Aske why I doe not this, not, why I weepe.
Gal.
Or stint thy teares, or mingle them with mine
By a relation of their cause: these eyes,
Trust me, my Isabella, are not dry,
Nor has strong sorrow ere exhausted them,
To make them bankrout of a friendly teare,
Doe thou but proue it once a friendly teare
And not a fond one. Why, my Isabella,
Why dost thou hasten those that come too fast,
2
Of Sforza, my deare Sforza, ther's no ioy
But either past, or fleeting, and poore man
Growes vp but to the experience of Griefe,
And then is truly past minority
When he is past all happinesse:
Jsab.
My Lord,
My sorrow dares not argue with your loue,
This smile expels it.
Gal.
Be it banisht farre,
Æternally, or to the yeares of Age.
I, these vnclouded lookes become my deare,
And giue me ioy too. I must hunt to day
With my deare vncle: O he is a man
That alters all those fond relations,
Which Nature giues, whom an vncles name
Out loues all ather: I could praise him still,
But that I stay too long from him: farewell.
Ex.
Jsab.
O Galeazzo! O not Galeazzo!
How has Man fled thee! how thy soule has fled thee!
Onely thy lineaments bely a Man.
Thou hunt; alas poore Prince, thou art the Game:
Thy vncle hunts: and yet he does not neither,
But stands a glad, and idle looker on,
Whilst thou insnar'st thy selfe, sinfully fool'd,
Flattering thy Executioner, and so
Dost nor preuent thy misery, nor yet know.
Enter Galea.
Gal.
I am return'd once more, before I'me gone,
To see if thy fond griefe be not return'd;
What ioy is there in a forbidden griefe?
What comfort in the eyes sad flux? once more
Is it my fault giues you these teares?
Jsab.
My faults;
3
That it increaseth when I striue with it,
And makes my face rebellious to my Lord,
When my heart yeelds.
Gal.
Then once againe, adieu,
Forsake your griefe, or griefe will forsake you.
Exit.
Isab.
Forsake my griefe—O bid me forsake heau'n,
My reason, and mine honor: onely sighes
Doc keepe me in opinion of Beeing,
And without them I were a stupid coarse.
Shall I obey impossibilities?
Forsake the sorrow, and retaine the cause?
How can I thinke that yet the vntyr'd Sunne
Has iourny'd but a twelue-month, since I was
In Ferdinando's Court, the Paragon
Of happy Naples, when his Palace seem'd
Guarded with Princely sutors, and mine eye,
Caught with so many rarities of men,
Taught me that too much choyce did hinder choyce,
That Galeazzo then must cary me?
This Galeazzo, neither Prince, nor Man,
Fool'd out of both by Sforza, his deare vncle.
Can I thinke this, and thinke of ioy againe?
Can I thinke this, and dare to thinke againe?
Why should some toyes of after-torment fright
A resolution of easing me
From present ones? O tis the curse of man
To be vnhappy at arbitrement,
Enter Iulia.
Till heau'n please to relent. My Iulia,
Breath's Naples any comfort? quickly speake.
Iul.
None, Madam, and your courteous Grandfather
In stead of Armies sends you Patience.
Isab.
What patience? he should haue sent me rage,
Ayded my anger, if not my reuenge:
4
Can Thunder whisper? or chaf'd seas not roare?
In me is Sea and thunder, I will be
A patterne of Reuenge not misery.
Ex.
Scena secunda.
Sforza.Sforza as yet thou but beginst to act,
And yet beginst to stagger: wert thou not
A Princes sonne? why art thou not a Prince?
Protectors are but subiects, and this staffe
But shewes me vnder whose command I am.
Is this our hindrance that our mother first
Swell'd with another? what her wombe denyde
Our head shall giue, or we will loose our head,
What was her labour to a Crowne? Perhaps
A monster might haue fill'd her first, a thing
Of royall prodegy, and should this thing
Grow to be hooted to a crowne before vs?
Or if that Crownes be due to the most yeares,
Why should the Nephew be the Vncles Lord?
And Lawes of Nations conquer those of Nature?
Nature intended of Sov'raignty to them
Of soueraigne vnderstanding; to the rest,
How euer aged, but subiection,
Which Isabella would detaine vs in:
And whilst she trusts to Naples, our sad brow
May sooner weare willow, then Diadems.
Enter Belgiosa.
Return'd so soone, my Belgiosa? thankes,
Before I heare thy message, for thy hast.
5
My Lord, our sudden comming into France,
Left fame behind vs, where ariu'd, we crau'd
A priuate audience?
Sf.
But had you it?
Did not our enemies sharpe espies descry
The depth of our hid counsells?
Bel.
They might first
Desery the subtill path of a swift ship,
The voyage of a bullet, or of thought,
Before your more mysterious purposes?
Sf.
Then since we are alone, and in a place
Free from the bold intrusion of an eye,
Feigne Vs the Prince to whom we sent you forth,
And speake our Embassy vnto our selfe.
Bel.
Grear Prince, to haue the offer of a Crowne
Is rare, and your felicity: my Lord,
Millans Protector, but your seruant, knowing
The ancient right your predecessors had
Is vsurpt Naples, by vs wooes your Grace
(Consider vnto what he wooes your Grace)
Not to maintaine his pow'r, but make your owne,
To take a Kingdome that e'ne sighes for you.
So shall the infamy of a lost crowne
Rot in the earth with your dead Ancestors,
And the recouery reuiue their names
To waite vpon your triumph with your foes:
For so much iustice needs no other power,
And yet such is your pow'r, that it is able
To make what euer you should fancy, iust:
But that your vertue is aboue that pow'r.
I will not call you vsurer of Fame,
By this large act, when the astonisht world
Now fifty Ages off from vs, shall reade
Not in the boastings of a painted tombe
6
Writ in Æternities true Characters,
For making conquer'd Crownes the iudiments
Of your victorious infancy in armes,
When France shall know no other Charlemaigne.
Sf.
But should we faile in the attempt? what then?
Belg.
Can Heau'n faile Iustice? or those pow'rs commit
Sinnes which they punish? O my gracious Lord
Sinne not with that weake thought: but if they should,
Sforza will neuer:
Sf.
He is alwaies noble,
But hee'l vndoe vs with a benefit,
To giue a kingdome is aboue requitall.
Belg.
His hopes are but the prayse of honest deeds,
If in the rereward of your spreading Fame,
That fils all mouthes, some happy tongue may glance
At him, as a poore engine of your glory,
That could impart, but nor possesse a Fame.
Sf.
Excellent man, if to this welcome speech
Thou giu'st as faire an answer.
Bel.
This in briefe
After some scruple, and a little pause
He whisper'd he would come.
Sf.
Exactly done,
But leaue vs now, my noble Belgiosa,
Till we may study a reward for thee.
Ex. Belg.
The twilight hastens, when Vitellio
And Malatesta one of an high trust
Ent. Vitell. & Malat.
With our fond Nephew, promised conference.
And here they are Is it decreed braue friends?
Shall it be swiftly done? nay, tis no matter,
Your colour sayes you dare not.
Vit.
It lyes then:
If that my colour shew me disobedient
7
But when shall Galeazzoes wish'd-for death
Shew we dare somewhat?
Sf.
We would gladly haue
A poyson teach him linger to his death,
And a month hence we shall expect his knell.
Ex.
Now are we entred, and now to retire
Were the worse treason: like an inrag'd fire
The more we are oppos'd, the more wee'l spred
And make our foes our fewell: to be head
Wee'l cut off any member, and condemne
Vertue of folly for a Diadem,
Banish Religion, and make blood as cheape
As when two Armies turn'd into one heape
Of carcasses, lye grou ling, what care we
For the slight tainture of disloyalty?
None will commend the race till it be run,
And these are deeds not prais'd till they are done.
Scena tertia.
Iuliano, Picinino.Iul.
My Picinino, holds this sad newes true?
Pici.
My Iuliano, yes; tis in each voyce
That some perswasion flatt'ring Ferdinand,
That the French iourney was but a report,
Made him reuoke Alphonso, his braue sonne,
Who with an Army had indanger'd vs:
For the wise old man fearing, a deepe feare
Might arme an enemy, else too weake for him,
And make vs hasten the French warre, gaue o're
8
That all this quiet does not purchase peace,
The coozen'd Prince seekes the sure peace of death,
And leaues his ruine to destroy his sonne.
Iul.
Will the French come? then prethee, Death, come too.
Why should our eyes dull'd to all other sights
By Age and sorrow, be reseru'd for sight
Of warre and sorrow? ô discourteous heau'ns!
Why haue you dally'd with vs to white hayres?
Why kept till this time, must we perish now?
O wherefore are we come so neere the graue
And are not in it yet? yet pardon me
Good heau'n, your acts are aboue question:
Yet I may shed these teares for Italy;
Slaue of that world, which once, her valour slau'd,
Restoring backe her triumph's with her spoyle,
Distracted in herselfe, and onely fit
To make a bankrout Poet heale his credit
With matter for fresh Tragedies.
Pic.
Good heau'n!
Is this to ease misfortune, or increase it?
If Passion could whine out felicity,
Or plenteous teares could drowne vnhappinesse,
I haue eyes too, and they containe their showres,
Nor would I ere be niggard of a Griefe.
But teares being onely teares, an easie dew
Of childish eyes, and all the rest of Griefe
Commanding smiles, more then Compassion,
I thanke my Genius I am resolute
To laugh at Fortune when she is most angry.
Iul.
Such laughter may haue little mirth in it,
And I shall haue more comfort in a teare.
Pic.
You may, good Fountaine, yes, droppe on, to see,
If so much moysture will reuiue thy cheekes
9
That feares a sorrow, more then misery.
Scena quarta.
Uitellio.This is the place, and this the time: good heau'n!
What an odd place, and what an vncouth time?
Had I beene hyr'd to murther Sforza here,
Hell could not prompt more fit occasion.
I like nor it, nor him: but here he comes.
Ent. Sforza.
Sf.
Welcome Vitellio, thy hast is welcome:
Nay complement with him, whom thou wouldst kill,
Be free to vs as we doe know thee true.
Speak, yet I need not bid thee, for thine eye
Sparkles a ioyfull answer. It is done.
Vit.
Tis done my Lord, and now my Lord, 'tis told
(That Galeazzo is no more a man)
And with an euen scruple, for to me
The act's as easie as relation.
Sf.
Thou speak'st true manhood: 'tis thy art alone
That giues vs certaine honour: there are some
Striue for Æternity with losse of life,
At least with hazard of the losse of it,
And thinke they are reueng'd when they are kill'd?
These are our valiant duellists, and these
Doe bleed whilst we doe conquer, heale their wounds,
Whilst we receiue none: then, at last, vnfold
(Man of deepe Art, that canst preuent the Fates,
And cut a thread, which they had thought to spunne
Fourty yeares yonger) thy wise mysteries.
10
Which cause a death, without a feare of death,
Vit.
Here are some drugs, but of these some, not one
But can command a life where ere it is,
And ruinate the strongest workemanship
That Heau'n ere brag'd to haue compos'd of Earth.
Powders of speedy Fate, but aboue all
The instruments, which make me neere to death
Of such indear'd familiarity,
This glasse has nimblest operation:
Whose liquor cast vpon the face of man
Straight dulls him to an euerlasting sleepe.
Sf.
Is this the liquor of Æternity?
Vitellio fals as dead.
Then take thy Lethe, and goe sleepe for euer.
Enter Malat.
Mal.
I am deceiu'd, or else this is the place
Which Sforza chooseth when he is alone.
Yes, this is it.
Sf.
What Malatesta come?
What Deuill brought him hither? O crosse starres!
Be sudden, Sforza, now, or thou art lost:
He must beleeue our guilt was accident.
He falls vpon Uitellio.
Speake, my Vitellio O tune thy lips
But to one syllable, but to one groane
And I am satisfi'd.
Mal.
What fight is here?
Vitellio dead, and Sforza tur'nd a Mourner?
Sf.
Shouldst thou dye thus, how would my name be soyld?
For though I am as guiltlesse of thy death,
As Innocence, or if there be a name
That hath lesse beeing: yet the enuious world
Will quit curst Fortune of so great a crime,
And giue it me: yet speake.
Mal.
I'me bold my Lord,
To aske your Honor when dismall chance
11
Sf.
Now, Malatesta, now:
When could vnhappinesse raigne so, but now?
As if he meant to be before his Lord,
He had no sooner told the Prince must dye,
But he straight dy'd.
Mal.
Then courage, my good Lord,
Since it is thus, make the best vse of it:
For now you need not feare to be reueal'd,
When one mouth's stopt, and th'other is your owne.
But since your last retyrement, we haue beene
Instructed by the speed of frequent Poasts,
Of the ariuall of the king of France.
Sf.
With thankes, a while, my Malatesta, leaue vs.
Ex.
Why should we longer thinke of other pow'rs,
And not bring offrings now to our owne braine?
Which giues vs Agents of all kinds of men,
And Kings as well as poys'ners: this wise King
Must trouble Naples, who would trouble vs,
Diuert inuasions which are yet not made,
And thus our ends are cheapely brought about,
We onely at the charge of plott: they fight,
And Galiazzo dyes, whom either King
Were they not thus intangled, would preserue:
We shall be conquerors without fighting thus,
And their poore swords shall cut a way for vs.
Surgit Vitellio.
I'me for you France.
Vit.
And I am for you, Sforza,
Not poyson'd yet, vnlesse 'twere by thy teares.
The other liquor had an Antidote.
Happy suspect! had I beene credulous
And thought his loue as free as it would seeme
I had not beene, distrust has ransom'd me.
But Malatesta is intrapp'd, I know
12
My equall villaine perishes, and I
Thus being accessary to his death
May sinne to Innocence, by poasting off
The Princes fate to him; whilst a disguise
Shall keepe aliue the fame that I am dead.
And thus halfe truth shall come to light, and I,
Be wisely cleer'd by double villany.
Ex.
Scena quinta.
Caiazzo, Sanseuerin, Maluezzo.Sans.
As I am noble, 'twas a glorious sight,
To see two Princes, in their State at once:
As if two Sunnes had harmlesly conspir'd
To beautifie, and not to fright the Heau'ns.
Why should the formall nicety of State
Debarre these often enteruiewes? I thinke
They would be medicine against Tyranny:
For, when a Prince sees all things vnder him,
Heads of eternall nakednesse, and men
That make their glory of their seruitude,
He thinkes hee's vncontroulable, that none
Without a saucy imputation
Dares warne him to his duty: but suppose
An equall Maiesty should once become
His vsuall obiect, one, whose vncheck't blood
Runnes full as high as his, then he does learne,
That ther's a Common-wealth of Princes too,
Not one sole Monarch.
Cai.
Yet, Sanseuerin,
If you obseru'd some clouds obscur'd both Sunnes,
13
Their neerest friendship by a strict embrace,
They lookt iealously, as if they fear'd
A closer stab: and then the King tooke leaue
With that excesse of hast, that one would thinke
(After this eager preparation,)
He did intend his iourney to leaue vs,
Not to winne Naples.
Mal.
'Tis a dangerous time,
(And yet I seeme to crosse the truth I speake
When I not feare to call't a dangerous time)
Sforza is ouer-wise, and so attempts
Vpon the confidence of his owne braine
(A braine, though wise, yet I may safely say,
Within the possibilitie of error)
Things, that can onely hap by miracle
To any good.
Sans.
Why, what can happen ill?
Feare you a warre? and what's to be fear'd there?
Least that a mortall dy, least that the life
Due to a knotty gout, or grating stone,
Haue a more easie period by the sword.
Let them feare warre, who feare to see their gold,
Lest that the Sunne should haue a sight with them,
Holding so much of Earth, th'are turn'd to it,
Who haue no more life then their durty akers,
Men, I may say, in the worst part of men.
And why like these runne we an idle race
Of threescore yeares, and then sneake to a Death?
Whilst souldiers master their mortality
And dye by men, if that at all they dye.
Malvezzo know, when all things sifted are,
Peace onely pleaseth them that ne're knew warre.
| The tragedie of Lodovick Sforza Dvke of Millan | |