University of Virginia Library

Scena secunda.

Caiazzo.
Cai.
It must succeed: Fortune may shew her spite,
Her pow'r she cannot, in the houre I'me made
A Princes Lord, or murtherer: I'ue plac'd
Close at the outward doore, Sanseuerin,
That if successe doe crowne my hopes, his cares
May giue me safety, with my happinesse,
That I be not surpris'd: but if I faile
I haue inioyn'd him on the noyse he heares,
Straight to goe call the Duke, & enter hither.
Ent. Isab.
Madame, tis done: and now the guilty head
(Which whilst it stood, made all to feare their heads,
Who durst affirme it did vsurpe a crowne,)
Most humbly bends, and offers it to you.

Is.
Which I accept: but for no other end
Then to reuenge his death, base wretch, on thee:
If that head be not planted there, 't shall off:
You shall inioy your Masters death.

Cai.
How's this?
Is this a loue-tricke, Lady? I had thought
After your thankes parted twixt heau'n and me,
You would with greedinesse haue giu'n your selfe
To him that gaue you your desires:

Is.
Fond thought!
Dost thinke Ide loue a man that kils a man?
Make him my Prince, who hath dispatcht his owne?
Was Treason euer Preface vnto Loue?
Hadst thou monopoliz'd perfection,
And shar'd a thousand Cupids in each eye:
I would contemne the proudest of their shafts,
And giue thee onely what is due, Disdaine.

Cai.
Youle vrge me to iust vengeance? doe you heare
Madam ingratitude, quickly professe
That this harsh language was but a wise baite
To make him faster, who was sure before,
Or I professe Ile ioyne your death with his
With thy loath'd Sforza.

Js.
I beleeue thee now,
And trust me, so beleeue, that I could thanke thee,
I loue thy cruelty, though not thy person.

Cai.
Hath death so little horror? well Ile doe
What shall inforce you to desire a death.
This ponyards point shall naile thee to the earth
Strucke through thy armes: where doe not hope vp
A noble rauisher, my swarty slaues,
Slaues hated of their fellow Black a mores,
Shall on thy Honors ruine tyre their Lust,
And kill thee in thy loathfull suffering.
Ent. Sforza, Sanseuerin. Belgiosa.
What dare you struggle?

Is.
A rape, a rape.

Cai.
O my good Lord you come in such a time
As I could wish for, for this houre or more
This wicked woman hath beene wooing me,
To murther your most sacred Maiesty,
And for reward hath promis'd me herselfe,
Together with the Duchy: my good Lord,
In detestation of such treachery,
I gaue her some harsh answers, with which mou'd,
She vs'd a womans craft, and cry'd a Rape.

Is.
Is this truth, Isabella; see, shee's dumbe:
Haue I then liu'd to haue you seeke my death?
A Cosin-Traitor? yet you shall not dy,
Nor know another prison then my Court,
I loue to see my Murtherer: O heau'ns!
Why, should I feare to kill her? yet tis reason:
Who is no true Prince, can ne'er punish treason.

Cai.
And I shall take you at your word, deare Sforza.

Ex.