University of Virginia Library

Scena secunda.

Sforza. Ascanio.
Asc.
Sforza , you are vndone.

Sf.
Why my Ascanio?
Fortune is fearfull of so foule a crime.

Asc.
You durst be bad, and yet improuident,
And so it is not Fortunes, but your crime.
Which shall I first beginne to blame? your fault
Or (pardon if I call it) Foolishnesse:
I faint to thinke that you are past excuse,
Both with the honest and the Politicke.

Sf.
Come neerer, my deare Cardinall, and tell
In easier termes what tis that troubles you:
Is Galeazzo's death divulg'd?

Asc.
It is:
The time, the manner, and the murtherer,
Nor am I free from th'imputation.

Sf.
You speake what you suspect, not what is true,
Does speech come from the dead? can their dry'd nerues
Borrow a tongue for accusation?
This is no other then the voice of Guilt,
The speech of our home-executioner:
And yet I feare—and yet what should I feare?
Bloud hath strange organs to discourse withall,
It is a clamorous Oratour, and then
Enter Sanseuerin, Halberdeers & Vitel.
Euen Nature will exceed her selfe to tell
A crime so thwarting Nature.

Sans.
My good Lord,
Pardon the zeale of my intrusion,
I bring hid danger with me: 'twas my chance
As I was passing to the bed chamber,
Iust at the doore to finde this muffled man,
Waiting some trecherous opportunity.
Each circumstance swell'd with suspition,
The place, the time, the person, all did seeme
To beare a danger worthy of your feare,
At least your wiser disquisicion.

Sf.
Thou art all goodnesse, and deseru'st of vs
Beyond the niggardly reward of thankes:
But what are you that thus be cloud your face,
Who, not vnlike that ouer-bashfull fowle,
He discouers himselfe.
Delight in darknesse? Ha! Vitellio!
The wonder is resolu'd by a new wonder.

Ex. Sans.
Vit.
Sforza I liue: d'yee stare? I liue: these words
Are not the fond delusions of the Ayre,
As you officiously would gull your selfe;
But from a solid substance, had not we
Enter Sans. with two Negroes.
Bin by your diligent spy too soone surpriz'd,
Before our proiects full maturity,
Thy death more fully should haue prou'd my life.

Sf.
Foole that I was, who thought to take thy life
By that which nourisht it: there's none so mad
Would poison Serpents, Ile worke surely now,
Once more Ile try your immortality.
Strangle the Monster.

Uit.
'Twas a doubtfull chance
Within this houre who first should owne those words.
But, Tyrant, weary thy inuention
To finde variety of punishment,
Yet all that thou canst doe, exceeds not this,
A pinne could doe as much: weake, silly Sforza,
All thou canst doe to me exceeds not that
Which I did on the person of thy Prince:
Disease would proue a better murtherer.

Sf.
Stop that malignant throat.—O my Ascanio,
Thus must they toyle which worke an hight by bloud,
How I could wish an innocent descent
To new subiection? how I hate that wish!
How scorne all thoughts that haue not danger in them
Get vs more Remora's, sweet Cardinall,
Or rather then to droope to Idlenesse,
Wee'll worke to be no Prince, our selfe re-calling:
In rising, most, some wit there is in falling.