University of Virginia Library

Actus secundi

Scena prima.

Iuliano, Picinino.
Iul.
Heard you the generall whisp'ring?

Pis.
No, what ist?

Iul.
The Duke is ill.—

Pic.
And doe they whisper that?

Iul.
Yes: and, they say, he has strange fits.

Pic.
How strange?
Is poyson strange in Italy? why, know,
As Princes liue aboue the vulgar, so
Their death has a Prerogatiue: meane men
May dreame away their time to fourescore yeares,
And when their rotten ioynts drop to their dust,
Onely some triuiall infirmity,
A Palsie, or an Ague beares the blame:
But 'tis not State for Princes to be old,
And yet they must not be suppos'd to dye
By the respectlesse treason of disease,
But by some strange vnheard of accident
That Fate did neuer dreame of: but no more,
You know Vitellio, and the height of grace
Sforza has shew'd him, 'tis suspitious
When wisedome flatters villany: then come,
Let vs be priuate, and discourse some treason.

Enter, after solemne Musick, Sforza, Sanseuerin, Caiazzo, and Souldiers: when after some priuate whisp'ring they depart seuerall waies.
Iul.
But stay, my Picinino, who are here?

Pic.
O the grand favorite, Sanseuerin,
A most full bubble, valiant vanity:
That in high termes can sweare downe fortresses,
Blow away Armies with a pow'rfull breath,
And spoyle the enemy before he sees him:
But when he comes to action, lye as still,
As in the tale, that lumpish King of Frogs,
Which Ioue did giue them in his merriment.
Were tilting valour, I ne're knew a man
Of larger worth: could he but breake the rankes
Of enemies aswell as he does speares,
Millan ne're saw a brauer Generall.
But there's his brother too.

Iul.
I, thats the man.

Pic.
(Tis wonder we can know so much of him)
He that can sound the depth of that sly braine
Has a large plummet, trust me Iulian,
An hundred Lawyers make vp that one head,
And scarcely too: quicke Proteus to him,
To this Caiazzo was an Ideot,
A plaine flat Ideot, I tell thee man,
Meander neuer knew so many windings;
If, as they say, an Æmulation
Is bred by likenesse, I doe wonder much
How Sforza is induc'd to imploy him.
Who has more Deuill in him, then himselfe.

Iul.
But why is this imployment? why these Armes?
When all but Naples are our friends, and they
Not able now to shew themselues our foes,
Ingag'd, and almost lost in the French warre.

Pic.
Trickes, Iuliano, Statists call them Arts,
Not to be fadom'd by a vulgar reach:
But though I want the villany to know,
Yet I haue so much spleene to laugh at them;
And take a comfort in this plainer sense:
No subtilty can coozen Prouidence.

Scena secunda.

Ascanio, Galeazzo, Isabella, Iulia.
Asc.
How rests the Prince?

Isab.
O my good Lord, he rests,
But 'tis a quiet, such as the Seas haue,
When that the winds haue spent their violence,
And out of impotence bestow a calme:
'Tis more a death, then slumber, you may see
His senses rather weary, then at rest.

Asc.
Are then his fits so raging?

Isab.
Nothing else,
Should he but wake, youde thinke two Armies met,
And stroue together for the loudest shout.
Disease has spred herselfe ore all his parts,
And onely spar'd his tongue, as if some starre
Not knowing otherwise to cleare it selfe
From imputation of tyranny,
For such exact plaguing of Innocence
Had left him that to curse withall, that so
To all that heard his fury, he might seeme
To be thus tortur'd for his Blasphemy.

Gal.
Water, some water.

Isab.
Now the fit beginnes:

Gal.
Some of my slaues runne, and exhaust the Po,
Charge him no more to vent his idle streames
Into the glutted maine, but rather poure
All his moyst mouths on me: d'yee stare, begone,
Vse not your eyes at all, vnlesse to weepe:
And that, not teares of sorrow, but of helpe,
Such as may coole me.

Asc.
Patience, sweet Prince,
Adde not vnto the fire of your disease,
The heat of passion.

Gal.
What red thing is this?
Ha, Isabella, tell me.

Is.
'Tis your vncle.
The noble Prince Ascanio.

Gal.
'Tis false;
He is nor Prince, nor noble: hearke you friends,
He talkes of Passion, and of Patience,
Let him discourse of Ætna, or Vesuuius,
Or of a greater heat then I doe feele,
And I will answer him: Patience to me?
Goe bid rough seas be patient.

Asc.
He growes worse,
And opposition does inflame him more:
Me thinkes I see his eye-lids faintly striue,
Against Deaths closing.

Gal.
O! my ioynts are fire,
Why does not heau'n shed Cataracts, and lowre
Once to my comfort? are they hot as I,
Haue they no moysture, for a Suppliant?
Then, though hot heau'n oppose, when once my breath
Hath left this corps, Ile haue a cold by death.

Morit.
Is.
Heard you that grone my Lord—ô he is dead:
Cracke then ye tardy heart strings, quickly cracke,
And giue me leaue to ouer-take the flight
Of my dead husband.

Asc.
What is past our helpe,
Let it be past our griefe: tis fortitude
To suffer chances counterbuffes as one
That by his expectation had deceiu'd
All her faint threatnings: till this sadder time
Your life has had one constant scene of ioy,
Which here is interrupted: you should thanke
The heau'ns because they were not tedious
In their delights: for this variety.
As hunger prayseth feasts, so it may be
Youle loue ioy better for this misery.

Scena tertia.

Sforza, Beatrice.
Sf.
How couetous thou art to learne mishap?
Beatrice the answer kills thee.

Bet.
Kill me then,
But not deny me.

Sf.
Dearest, I am lost,
And in my ruine, thou.

Bet.
I would be so,
Safety were ruine were it otherwise.
Yet tell me Sforza, how are you so lost?

Sf.
O what a busie torture woman is!
I must say somewhat, but the maine is silence,
Vitellioes losse, yes, that hath lost me too:
No sooner kill'd then lost, so strangely gone,
As if the dead had learnt a motion
So to conuey themselues vnto the graue.

Bet.
Will you be still vnkind?

Sf.
Thou shalt heare all.
The French haue conquer'd Naples, and which drawes
Blood from our soule, without a drop of blood:
When thus we plotted it, that when both Kings
Had wearied out themselues with equall slaughter,
And here Alphonso totter'd, and there Charles;
When losse had ceiz'd the conqueror, then we
Would haue amaz'd the conqueror afresh
With new alarmes: when by the flattery
Of chance, France gets a kingdome without blood,
And by dry victory has vndone a plot
Worth many Kingdomes: I presum'd on this,
Naples had souldiers enough to last
Killing a yeare, in which space, we resolu'd
To arme all Italy against the French,
And cunningly driue out, whom we call'd in:
Which, ere we could accomplish, is disclos'd,
And conqu'ring France intends to hinder it,
By our inuasion: ô my policy!
Must I be wounded with the sword I gaue?
And find those enemies, whom onely I
Enabled to my iniury? well; heau'n,
Your kindnesse is a miracle sometime,
Beyond all reason, but your curse is wit,
Enter Ascan.
My fault is my faults punisher.

Asc.
Long life,
And happy to our Duke.

Sf.
How my Ascanio?
Recall thy selfe, good Cardinall, what Duke?
Whilst Galeazzo liues?

Asc.
Most truly Duke,
For Galeazzo's dead.

Sf.
Alas, poore child,
I could haue wish'd thee longer life, but since
Heau'ns will is otherwise, twere blasphemy
To storme at that which is the will of heau'n.
I hate that impotent rebellion.

Enter Sanseu.
Sans.
My Lord, so crosse was Fortune, that you were
Made almost banqu'rout by a too much thrift:
For when you had discharg'd those numerous troopes,
Whose charges lay as hard vpon the State
As an inuasion could, then Orleance mou'd
And stole Nouarra, which disastrous newes
So heated the remainder of your troopes
(As if you had added to their valour more,
Whan you abated from their multitudes)
That by a nimble victory, they made
His conquest be his prison.

Sf.
Noble friend
Stand thou, and our State stands: ô why doe men
Cry out on Age, on eating Age? as though
Our many griefes were from our many yeares,
And the last times were worst: we rather find
That nothing is so dangerous to Kings
As a yong Principality: for tis
With them almost as with yong plants, which yeeld
Vnto the least intreaty of the wind,
And need no stronger blast, but gaining Age
Scarce stoope to thunder: may we once arise
Vnto this happy firmenesse of estate,
This blest maturity of Prince, we stand
Fearlesse of fall, but if heauen enuy vs
And haue decreed our ruine with our rising,
Yet such weele haue it voyde of all base feares
Our foes shall grieue our ruine was not theirs.

Scena quarta.

Caiazzo, Belgiosa, Maluezzo.
Mal.
My Lords, since we are met so happily,
(If you esteeme me not too bo d, to aske
The story of your high-fam'd actions)
Blesse me with the Relation.

Cai.
I much feare
Mine are not worthy your attention:
Yet if it please you, noble Belgiosa,
(Because my story will depend on that)
To show the reason why the giddy French,
So strangely lest their conquest: such your pow'r,
Such a full conquest haue you of your friend,
I'le shame my selfe for your content.

Bel.
Then, thus:
From vs France hurry'd thorow Lumbardy
And fled to conquer, who had seene that hast
Would easily suppos'd it to haue beene
Rather a flight then an inuasion.
The Pope quakes at the progresse, and admits
Yong Ferd'nand into Rome, that if the French
Should dare a fight, they might find Naples there.
France slights that fainter opposition,
And speakes his scorne in thunder, Naples flyes,
And all his army hath no other vse
Then to become vnwilling harbingers
To shew their lodgings to the conqu'ring French:
Who like fierce winds that sweepe away their lets,
Or like incroaching tydes, take swiftly in
The offer'd Countries, not defended, now
Saint German yeelds, and sawcy Capua
That dar'd a competition once with Rome,
Aversa takes the president, and now
The Kng of Naples finds home foes, and such
As durst be valiant against their Prince,
And vse their fond armes in a mutiny,
Which were not safe enough for a defence.
He taking the aduantage of their crime
Vnconquer'd by the French, to these he yeelds,
And chuseth rather to become no Prince
Then keepe the Crowne, which they would take away.

Mal.
What was the issue?

Bel.
Strangely pittifull:
He that had Nauies yesterday, has now
Scarce a barke left him, scarce a planke or two,
To trust him to the mercy of the Seas,
The Seas more courteous then the multitude:
In which he makes for Ischia, and leaues
His enemy his successor.

Cai.
And he
(As I haue seene some wav'ring amorist)
Neglects his conquest for the easinesse,
For when twas certaine Ferdinand was fled,
Whilst they might iustly yet feare his returne,
The French returne, as if they meant to try
Which would be soonest weary of the hast,
Who had the swifter pace to runne away:

Bel.
That is no new act of new gouernors,
Such stories are as ancient as the world.
Till they doe try what they can doe, they thinke
They may doe all things, their first act is warre
(As if they meant rather to kill then raigne)
It matters not vpon what ground: there is
Pretence enough to quit a conqueror
From the least shew of iniury: but then
When they haue felt the least of warres extreames
They raue, they faint, they crosse what they first did,
And are e'ne weary of a victory.

Cai.
France made this certaine truth, who in his brags
Had sworne the fall of Mahomet: but now
When he might heare the groanes of Græcia
Deliuer'd by the ecchoes of their sea,
To make them more, he thinkes on a retreat,
And chuseth home before a victory:
It was a vally, where our Taro laues
The root of Appennine, and a large plaine
Spheard with a row of swelling Earth makes warre
A spatious Amphitheater: where we
Stayd for their comming; when mature aduice
That crownes most actions, strangely iniur'd vs,
For rashnesse would haue stole a victory
Which tedious consultation gaue away.
Successe had smil'd on our temerity
Had we assaulted them vpon the hills
And added to the mountaines with the French.
But I am tedious: onely our vanne fought,
And twas the Frenchmens victory to resist:
Both were o'recome, both conquerors, for they
Still kept the field, and wee still kept the prey.

Bel.
O what is valour ioyn'd with Modesty!
This conquers both your Fortune and your skill.
Should you but write a story, and professe
That purenesse from all passion which y'aue showne,
You would be credited, though twere your owne.
But what reward is't to be but beleeu'd?
You shall be euer prays'd: what you haue done
Feares neither enuy, nor obliuion:
And for this act succession shall see
Caiazzo as long-liu'd as Jtaly.

Scena quinta.

Vitellio
disguised.
I wonder Malatesta still suruiues:
Sure Sforza has forgot himselfe; my death
Does but halfe cleare him, and if th'other liue,
He cannot looke for a full innocence.
It is not mercy, certainly: ô, no,
Mercy with him is folly: but t'may bee
He feares that had he kild vs both at once
Rumor would be too busie, and all mouths
Would cry, that Chance had too much proiect in't.
This is the place of Destiny, 'tis here
Sforza does actuate his bloody arts,
Mistaking priuacy for innocence,
And thinkes hee's good, because he is not seene.
Here must I wayte for a discouery.

Enter Sforza.
Sf.
I must once more be cruell, yet not I,
This is the murther of Necessity:
But what has he deseru'd, who has done nought
But what we charg'd, and so perform'd our thought?
Is Death due to Obedience? can this hand
Yeeld to his Fate, that seal'd to his command?
Yet he, or I must perish: shall I see
My life, my honor, my Æternity,
Lye at his mercy, and be safe, so long
As he is pleas'd to temper his rude tongue?
Till he be drunke, or treacherous? Ile first
Study amongst all actions, which is worst
And ouer-act it: though our former deed
Was from ambition, this is yet from need:
Death is too good reward for such a slaue,
Enter Malatesta.
And sure there is no blabbing in the graue.
But here he comes: why are thy looks so grim?
Why, Malatesta, in thy furrow'd face
See I the signes of Anger, or of Griefe?
Command thy face to a more smiling forme,
That I may thinke thee pleas'd when thou dost tell
What does displease thee.

Mal.
'Twas a foolish dreame,
That stole my colour from my paler cheekes.
Last night I saw Uitellio.

Sf.
And what?
Canst thou feare shadowes?

Mal.
Yes if shadowes speake,
If that their threatnings be substantiall.
From such a paper as your Highnesse holds,
He forc't me breath in Death.

Sf.
This Paper holds
A strange perfume, of such a cunning vertue,
That at a distance it scarce smels at all.
And at the nose it gives the best of sents.
Make the experiment:

Mal.
O! I am slaine.

Sf.
Heau'ns what a stilnesse here is? what a death
Of the whole man at once? the wandring eye
Now findes a station, and the busie pulse
Is now for euer idle: where's the tongue
That but eu'n now could say as much as this,
When that the soule could prompt it? but e'en now
Here was a thing could speake, and poison too,
That knew more wayes to kill, then euer Heau'n
Did to make man: and could his subtlety,
That could giue death, not know to keepe out death?
Fye, what a bulke it is, what a great lumpe
Of Nothing, that shall lose that nothing too?
What a dead toy is Man, when his thin breath
Flyes to its kindred Ayre? ô why at all
Did Heau'n bestow, or why at all bereaue
Man of this Vapour of Eternity?
And must we one day be a stocke like this,
Fit onely to inrich the greedy Earth,
And fill an house of Death, perhaps before
We see the issue of another Plot?
Must we lye subiect to be trampled on,
By some, perhaps not Politicians?
Where's then our Wisedome? our deepe Prouidence
Are they durt too? ô heau'ns! but if they are
Enter some Negroes to cary away the body.
Or durt, or nothing, Ile enioy my fame.
And rottennesse shall ceize me, not my name.

Vit.
Are those the Instruments? well my black friends,
I eas'd you of a labour: all succeeds
According to the flatt'ry of my wish,
And my suspition turnes to prophecy.
But my so bloody, and so wary Sforza,
Your Agent's dead, but not your crime: 'twill out,
And by this carcasse: I will flye to France,
Divulge loud papers,—they are writ already,—
And here they are, these I will sweare were found
In the dead pois'ners pockets: by this meanes
Sforza's proclaim'd a murtherer, I'me freed,
And make it be his guilt, which was my deed.

Uitellio going forth meets with Isabella.

Scena quinta.

Uitellio
, Jsabella, Julia.
Madame I haue some newes of that import,
That (if you please to command priuacy)
Will both desire, and fright your patience.

Is.
Be briefe.

Vit.
First know I am Vitellio.

Is.
Thou art a villaine, and a pois'ner then,
Hast thou a drugge for vs?

Vit.
Yes such an one
Shall make you loue a poyson: reade, and wonder.

Is.
I doe: and more, how thou couldst purchase this
Without a guilt.

Vit.
I did peruse the spoyles
Of Malatesta's carcasse, whom I found
Most strangely guilty, and as strangely dead,
Whose pockets furnisht me with these instructions.

Is.
Thus we learne Murther from thy Fellony:
But what should make me trust a confest rogue?

Vit.
My villany: my credit is my crime:
Had not I stole, you had not vnderstood.

Is.
I must beleeu't: but darst thou poison well?
Commit a crime, which thou maist glory of?

Vit.
On whom deare Lady?

Is.
Nay I care not whom.
But I can giue reward to a wise crime.

Vit.
My quicke dispatch shall make you gladly know
I vnderstand, what you desire, and hide.

Exit.
Is.
Now should he poison Sforza. O fond hope!
That mak'st vs thinke all true that we desire.
Should he betray vs now? for what? that we
Intreated him to kill, we knew not whom.
By this expression thus much I haue wonne:
I may be made, but cannot be vndone.

Scena sexta.

Picinino.
Fortune is merry, and the heau'n dispos'd
To play with me, I am turn'd Fauourite.
Me thinkes my haires asham'd of their white hue
Should blush to youth: O how I could looke big,
Take Gyant strides, doat on my louely selfe,
And talke as silly as any Lord.
To see the prettinesse of action,
Of State-imployment: Sforza's to be crown'd,
And I must winne the popular suffrages.
Good Heau'ns! was euer such a merry load
Impos'd on Man: some cry the times are ill,
Others could wish them better, and a third
Knowes how to make all well, but tels not how,
And, cause, that he is silent, would be wise.
But in conclusion I doe finde them ready
(On supposition of no more expence,
And that their voice is su'd for, not their purse)
To giue a lusty acclamacion.

Sforza, 3 Ambassadors, Caiazzo, Sanseuerin, Maluezzo, as in procession, they offer vp the French Banners at the Altar, whilst this is sung.
Song.

Sf.
First we thanke Heau'n, by whose most gracious ayd
We haue the meanes, and reason to thanke you.
Now we beginne to lift vp our faint heads,
And entertaine, though scarce beleeue a peace:
Now Italy at length has lost her yoake,
Which she was wont to giue, but neuer beare,
And therefore wondred at the strangenesse more
Then at the weight of't: in this noble act
Sforza claimes nothing but the happinesse,
Which he acknowledges receiu'd from you.

1 Amb.
Sforza's deserts exceed the height of praise.

2 Amb.
He has slau'd Italy by freeing it.

3 Amb.
Millan must know him for her Romulus.

Sf.
We know our selfe so vnderneath this praise,
That could we but suspect vntruth in you,
Wee'd call all this but mockery.

Pic.
D'yee doubt?
Make you a question of the name of it?
Why call it as it is, plaine flattery.

Caiaz.
We wondred lately at the prouder French,
And gaue too high a valew to their acts:
When in a serious estimation,
Their chiefest victory was of the miles,
And more a iourney then a warre: if they
Could gaine a fame by nimble trauelling,
How shall we reare a trophee to his name,
That made them goe farre faster then they came?
For my part (though I know his Modesty,
Which will refuse the honours he deserues)
I'de haue him forc'd vnto the gouernment,
To rule that happy land which he hath sau'd.

Omnes.
A Sforza, a Sforza.

Ascanio crowns him.
Sf.
Sforza will ne're gainesay the gen'rall voice,
Your loue I like beyond your gift: kind Heau'ns!
Shew by my gouernments integrity
You were the peoples prompter, and I'le shew
(If you but actuate my iust desires)
I onely am their Duke in goodnesse: since
Millan hath chose, it shall applaud her Prince.