University of Virginia Library

Actus Quinti

Scena prima.

Sforza, Ascanio, Sanseuerin.
Sf.
O what is man? and all that happinesse
That puffes him to security? to day
One acts a Prince, and swell'd with Maiesty
Fills a proud throne, from whence the Multitude
Thinkes he rules Fortune too, as well as them,
Whilst she in iust esteeme of her owne name,
Makes him forgot, or odious, that none
Can be so miserably fool'd, to wish
His well-apparell'd misery: thus we
That did enioy beyond a Crowne, a braine
Able to meet, or challenge the worst chance:
Yet in the space of a few dayes, a space
Of too short lasting to expell a man
(By the most subtle fetches of the Law)
Out of a false inheritance: we lost,
We were expell'd out of a Monarchy;
But does Fate make a stand at this? O no,
She is not constant, no not in her curse,
But giuing most againe, which once was mine
She giues me too the capability
Of a new curse.

Asc.
Of a new ioy: for shame
Giue thankes at least for your felicity:
Can you repine being cramm'd, and so deserue
A bountifull vnhappinesse? I'ue knowne
Some that haue long endur'd a tedious siege,
Or a more tedious sicknesse, who haue beene
Forst to a lasting Lent, when they haue come
Or to their health, or to their liberty,
Not dare to take the nourishment they might,
Making themselues their sicknesse, and their foe:
Is not my Sforza one of these? you grieue
Because you haue no longer cause to grieue.

Sans.
O I doe feare your griefe, that it does glance
With a most vndeseru'd disgrace at me;
As if I were a-kinne vnto the fault
Of my false brother: O repeat that thought,
It is no great thing I request you to,
But trust vnto the faith that you haue found.
Would I betray, and follow you? d'yee thinke,
I'de be so mad to buy my banishment?
No man would be vnprofitably false,
Nor I for any profit: speake your selfe
If I haue left you, when your Fortune did?
Nay, then my loue was greatest, when you least,
I was your subiect, when you were no Prince.

Sf.
Sanseuerin, thy feare is too too fond,
And like the people, the Authoritie,
Who make an impious confusion
Of an high birth, and of an higher crime:
Who in a sawcy thwarting to their Prince,
Count him still worst, whom he has made the best,
As if we gaue him, with his honors, crimes,
And made him vicious, when fortunate.
No, let them spend their breath in idle talke,
Count thee or trecherous, or cowardly?
Whilst to thy Sforza thou art still the same,
Most valiant, and with thy valour, wise,
That by thy abstinence a while from warre,
Hast sau'd vs forces for a victory.

Sans.
The Subiects life lies in the Princes voice:
Now you haue cleer'd me I dare hasten warre,
And wish more enemies, then cowards feare:
That you may see, by my neglect of bloud,
(Which I shall onely loue when shed for you)
How slaunder was my most fear'd enemy.

Sf.
No more, my dearest friend: we lose all time
Which we doe saue from fight, still there does flocke
New forces to our Army, and the French
Are now as much amaz'd, as proud before:
We lately tooke the Swizzers into pay,
Those that dare fell their liues to any cause,
Whom Gold hath arm'd for me: if they proceed
In their first heat, we winne: but if they faile
We cannot be more wretched then we were:
The vilest chance of lucke can make vs know
But an Addition to an Ouerthrow.

Scena secunda.

The Captaine of the Swizzers, with a Souldier, as a fugitiue from the French.
Soul.
Now w'are alone I dare reueale my selfe,
I am not what I seeme, a Fugitiue,
But one that from Triulcio doe bring
Letters that much concerne you.

Capt.
Ex. Soul.

Letter.

Thou Man of Action, whom th'Italians
Feele their Achilles, both to wound, and beale:
Triulcio salutes thee: what is past,
As past recall he will not mention,
But for the future this; you ayd a man,
From whom you cannot any way expect
Reward, or Honor, such his pouerty
Both in desert, and meanes? but against whom?
J will not vrge they are your Countrymen,
Partakers of the same sweet soyle with you,
Who onely differ in their better choice:
Yet so farre doe I prize your worth, to thinke,
You haue not put off Nature, nor haue chang'd
With your home ayre, your home-affections.
That you are still a Swizzer: thinke of this,
And that at other times twere shame to flye,
Now onely flight shewes Magnanimity.

Triulcio.

Ex.

Scena tertia.

Picinino in his study, with a Deaths-head and a Watch.
Pic.
This is the summe, I can but be like this.
After the prouder threatning of the French,
After the sure impression of Disease,
I can but be like this: then let me thinke
What losse I haue when I am made like this:
This feares no French: a peece of ordinance
Can breake, but not astonish this, no force
Can draw a teare, no not a sigh from hence:
And can it be a losse to be like this?
O Death! why art thou fear'd? why doe we thinke
Tis such a horrid terror Not to Be?
Why, not to be, is, not to be a wretch,
Why, not to be, is, to be like the heau'ns,
Not to be subiect to the pow'r of Fate:
O there's no happinesse but not to be.
to the Watch.
But thou discloser of the stealth of Time,
Let me inquire how much is worne away
Of this sad houre: the halfe? O speedy time!
That mak'st vs feele, ere we can thinke of Age,
Ere we can take an order for the Graue.

Enter Iul.
Iul.
What? deepe in meditation, noble friend?
So studious of your Watch? alas good man,
Thou needst not this faint helpe to guesse at Fate,
These siluer haires are watch enough for thee.

Pic.
I onely looke how many minutes hence
Millan expires.

Jul.
O swift Arithmeticke,
To summe by minutes our sad Duchies age.

Pic.
This Watch doth teach reall Philosophy,
There is no tutor to this actiue brasse:
What is a Kingdome, but a larger watch?
Wound vp by Fate vnto some scores of yeares,
And then it falls: good Iuliano list,
Harke how it beats, how strongly, and how fast,
Beyond the motion of a nimble pulse:
Who would not thinke this were a lasting noise?
And yet it ends: after some date of houres
The watch will be as silent as the head.
O tis our folly, folly, my deare friend,
Because we see th'actiuity of States,
To flatter them with false Eternity:
Why longer then the dweller lasts the house?
Why should the world be alwaies, and not man?
Sure kingdomes are as mortall as their Kings,
And stay but longer for their period.

Iul.
I feare our Climactericall is now:
When all professions turne to souldier,
To that curst Art that thriues by Destiny.
The sithes are straighted into swords, and th'Earth
Being not wounded is vndone, where once
Stood buildings, which an humble Poetry
Without too bold a swelling might giue Kings:
Whole Mines vndone to beautifie one roofe,
Now onely Desolation dwels: weake griefe,
To say Corne growes, where once a City stood,
That sustenance is there where no men are,
This is a trifling, and halfe misery:
Our Lands now onely furnish vs with Graues,
Can hide vs, but not feed vs; we would thinke
Our Cities standing, though the buildings fell,
If we had no griefe, but Fertility.

Pic.
But on what strength does Sforza still subsist
Against so powrefull foes?

Iul.
The Emperor
Has sold him some few Almaines, but his hopes
Chiefly depend vpon the valiant Swizze,
Who were the chiefe in his depression.

Pic.
Has his grosse braine not learnt the danger yet
Of bringing strangers into Italy?
He call'd the French to Naples, who haue now
Found Millan too: O what's the difference
Betwixt a mercenary and a foe?
But that we kill one for his outrages,
And hyre the other? Juliano, I
May feele misfortune, but will neuer buy.

Ex.

Scena quarta.

Sforza, Sanseuerin.
Sans.
The French are mighty, and portentously
Rise by their fall: strong shame begets a rage,
And a disdaine, that you whom they expell'd
Should hazard their expulsion, makes them hazard,
What ere being ventur'd, addes a fame to Man,
And giues a glory to his misery.
They are so farre from the base feare of death,
That they embrac't, and like those fiercer curres,
That spend their anger on the senselesse stone
Not daring to attempt on him that threw,
They with a senselesse anger breake the darts
That naile them to the Earth, as if they scorn'd
Their killer should suruiue them: other lets,
As heat, or hunger, are their exercise:
That one would thinke they'd lost all part of man
VVhen they did meane to shew the best: my Lord,
I wish a swift, but loue a certaine conquest:
I thinke twere wisedome to protract the fight.

Sf.
I know thou speakst what thou thinkst best: but know,
Tis wisedome to delay on equall fame:
But when a foe has wonne opinion,
Which drawes all eyes, and hearts to him, O then
A valiant desperation fits a man:
For victory is not impossible,
And honour necessary: my best friend,
Call forth our Swizzers, and if happy swords
Though few, may cut a way to glory, come:
Enter Capt with Swiz:
The purchase is aboue the paines: but here
Come they that shall fill histories: braue friends
Now is the time we shall imploy your swords,
And teach the world your valour.

Capt.
You may faile:
'Tis better to be wise: Sforza, I'me come
To take my leaue of you, nor shall much breath
Be spent in ceremoniall complement,
I am the French Kings souldier.

Sf.
Speake low,
Let not the ayre feele such a treason, know
There is a pow'r aboue vs, and that pow'r
Thunders sometimes, I know, thou darst not stand
In contestation with the pow'r of heau'n:
Reuoke thy words.

Capt.
Ile doe no miracles:
My voice and faith are past.

Sf.
Yes they are past:
Thou art made vp all of disloyalty,
Reason hath nothing of thee: yet relate
(If thou hast any reliques left of sense,
Ile not coniure thee by strange Honesty)
Why dost thou leaue the heau'ns, and vs, and so
For nothing dost commit a double Treason?

Cap.
Ile satisfie you thus, you see I doe't:
Strike vp a march.

Sf.
Yet stay: what is the price
That makes thee trecherous, Ile turne prodigall
To buy thee to a vertue: stay: be rich,
Without a curse, without a fault.

Cap.
Tis vaine,
I'me deafe to Rhetoricke: yet say th'ast met
With a good periurer, my word is past,
And to be twice a traytor, is a fault
No sorrow can attone for: yet thus farre
Ile straine my selfe to please thee, tis well knowne,
Vnlesse you get vnto Ascanio,
Your hopes are at the last, but betweene you
And him, the French haue interpos'd themselues,
Nothing remaines but that you trust to me,
And in a Swizzers coat disguise your selfe,
That you may passe their Army.

Sf.
O hard strait,
Must Sforza impotently hide himselfe?
Or can a Prince be hid? I haue oft heard
Sparkes of Diuinity adorne his face,
To cleare him from the multitude: why then,
The being a Prince will make vs be no Prince,
We being betraid by our owne Maiesty.
Yet off ye enuy'd roabes, fall to the Earth,
O fall so low, that henceforth Man may scorne
The labour of descent to take you vp:
On, on, ye happy roabes, that like good clouds
Doe not obscure, but for a time defend
The threatned Sunne, that he may after shine
With higher vigour: I haue heard of some,
That weare their flesh with hairecloth for their crimes,
As thinking to be good if they were rough,
By such a wilde repentance: be it so
Enter Triulcio with the French.
These robes offended, then there is an hope
These ragges may expiate heau'n

Tri.
Braue souldiers,
How we reioice we may embrace at last,
Not with arm'd hands, without the guilt and shame
Of ciuill murther! but are these the troupes
That now must learne to vse their valour well?
To giue a death without a prodegy?
A conqu'ring cheerfulnesse adornes their face.
These are not common souldiers: looke you pale,
Then I must know the mystery.

Cap.
I'me betrayd.

Tri.
Yea I know all, but yet from thy forc'd tongue
Will I extract confession; fetch a racke,
To make him howle the truth, he will not speake.

Cap.
I can dare torments for wise honesty,
But when you know as much as I can tell,
Should I conceale't, all policy would iudge,
I did deserue the worst that I endur'd:
Who told you this was Sforza?

Sf.
O my braine!
Must subtletie perish by subtlety?
And our high wisedome finde a Conqueror?
Make an end Nature, the great worke is done,
Sforza is ouer-reacht—weake, childish rage:
Is this to lessen, or make misery?
Can passion loose vs, or a courteous teare
Wash off our fetters? if it can, poure eyes,
Poure out wet comfort; if it can, refuse
The curse of slumber, but it cannot, then
Couet a slumber euerlastingly,
And be like me, imprison'd in your lids.
Conuey vs quickly hence, kinde friends, you know
Sforza can neuer be a prisoner here,
Conuey vs thither where we are no Prince.
And must we wooe our Ruine? neuer man
Is a true wretch, but when he loseth all,
And wants the sad Election of his fall.

Scena vltima.

Iuliano, Picinino.
Iul.
I'me lost in this confusion: one reports
We haue lost all; another instantly
Kils all the French at once: thus eu'ry street
Is filld with wondring people; some cry, Arme,
Others runne crying, to perswade a flight:
All haue an earnest businesse in the stirre,
But in the helpe not any.

Pic.
These are they
That if an happy messenger should come
With Sforza's victory, would pretend at least
To be orecome with ioy: the gorgeous wals
Should shine with painted triumphs, and the French
Should be againe vanquisht in pageant.
But if his fortune yeeld to the French force,
What obloquy's will be enough for him?
Disgrace will then be wit, and any braine
Will venture on a Libell.

Iul.
'Tis the vse,
The popular folly to admire euents,
And those low soules thinke that the sword is iust,
Proportioning the reason by the end
Of the chiefe acts, of the best enterprize,
And so by folly runne into a crime.

Pic.
No matter for their wisedome, were they good:
O why are such term'd innocents? but friend,
What is our ayme? a flight our age denyes,
And whither should we flye, but to the graue?
O I haue so much people in me too,
Enter Maluezzo.
That I could wish thy company.

Mal.
Good Heau'ns!
Am I escap'd? may I stay safely here?
My feare has left such neere impressions,
I scarce dare thinke that this is Liberty.

Pic.
Noble Maluezzo, is there any hope?

Mal.
As much as in despaire: we are betraid,
Sforza is made a prisoner, all's lost,
And Millan, without blowes, is once more French.

Pic.

Iul.
How quickely we learne misery? no ghost
Would haue so courteously relinquisht Hell
To teach vs happinesse: if a kind starre
Had cast a Fortune on vs beyond wish,
We might expect the story from the starre
Assoone as the deare benefit: but when griefe
That against which we would seale vp our eares,
When that is meant vs, we shall surely heare,
Though heau'n doe straine for a new Miracle,
So to amaze vs to a certainty:
Though rotten carkasses regaine a voice,
And hell is bounteous of intelligence,
To giue vs teares.

Pic.
Why, then an end to teares,
Let's scorne the sorrow, which we owe to hell:
Now learne we the prodigious effects
Of wise Ambition: for twere easie iustice
To ruine foolish vsurpation,
Heau'n needs not stickle in't: but when those men
Who are as accurate, as bad, who can
So shape their vice into a vertuous mould,
That we repine at the accusers more,
Then at the guilty: when that these men fall,
Who then will call that wise, which he sees bad?
Such wisdome made, and ruin'd him: then ye
That dazzle with your Maiesty, and sit
Too neere to thunder, and not feare it, know
Sforza, and learne a wise contempt of wisedome,
Frailty attends your best, and strongest tricke,
And there's no foole vnto the Politicke.