University of Virginia Library

Act 2.

The Scene A Room in the Palace.
Ferdinand, Mompensier. Ascaneo, Trivultio.
Ferd.
Your masters haughty message I despise,
Who knows not how to conquer, but surprise.
He ows his victories to my distress,
As he derives his title from success;
And has my Vassals into fears betray'd,
With th'empty noises which his fame hath made:
But they are ready by a brave defence,
To cloud his fame, and blast his false pretence.
Then let him know his proffer'd aid I slight,
And dare retain my Crown, if he dare fight.
Perhaps his army is in some distress,
With tedious marches, want, and weariness,
To pay the debt he on my fame hath laid,
I'le send the Rebels Forces to his aid.

Mom.
I shall acquaint him Sir.

Ferd.
Trivultio—go—
To the proud enemy my Standards show,
And in the form that I my army drew,
Advance my Troops, and fix 'um in their view.

Triv.
The armies, Sir, already are so near,
That now they in each others view appear;
And only want their Kings commands to joyn.

Ferd.
Let all my Squadrons stand prepar'd for mine.
Exit Tri.
Ah! my Ascanio! Heaven doth still provide,
New ways and arts to have my courage try'd.
I do not mean by all those angry Stars,
Which thus begins my Reign with various Wars;
By all the Clouds that o're my Crown impend,
And in black Tempests ev'ry hour descend
Threatning my life, my father, and my Throne
Beset with foes and Rebels, left alone
T'encounter all; whilst fearful Spirits flye,
In Panick terrour from their Loyalty.
These meaner griefs my courage can remove;
But I am tortur'd with despairing love!

Asc.
Why Sir, should you afflict your Royal mind
With griefs, for which you soon redress may find?
Time and some little patience will destroy
Those griefs which lye but in your way to joy:
Your own despairs, the blushes of the Queen,
And all the other Guards which stand between,
Will soon remove their stations, and be gone;
When all the empty forms of love are done.

Ferd.
Alas! thou speak'st as if the piercing dart,
That wounded me, had toucht her gen'rous heart.
No, her unconquer'd heart is too severe,
For all the happy time she hath been here,
Too much (I fear) against her will confin'd,
By the kind force of an obliging wind;
With all my services I ne're could gain,
The least allay to my insulting pain.

Asc.
Love in her Sex must some resistance make,
To a brave enemy for Honour's sake.
But, Sir, to better news I can pretend,
From the fair mouth of her own beautious friend;
For I, who in my confident address
To her fair friend, have met with more success,
Do find by her, that Sir, your noble flame
Is not contemn'd, nor doth she hate your name!

Ferd.
What is't thou say'st?

Asc.
Yes, Sir, I say the Queen,
With Eyes betraying love, hath oft been seen
To glance on yours, but with such caution move,
As Poets make the gods in stealths of Love;
Watching with care the motions of your eyes,
To guard her timerous honour from surprize;
And then retreating e're she was betray'd,
Falls into the ambush which her blushes made.
Nay, once—
Pursu'd to her retreats by her fair friend,
She was o're heard to sigh—Prince Ferdinand!
And to the private ecchoes of the Grove,
Intrust the dang'rous secrets of her love.

Ferd.
Prithee no more such pleasant tales as these,
As hard to faith as Heavenly Mysteries.
Thou think'st with Golden dreams and pleasing art,
To fan this burning Feaver in my heart;
And blindly lead'st me to the wars of love,
VVith tales of Paradise, and joys above
My hope or faith, as Turkish Priests delude,
To VVar and death their cheated multitude.
Yet if 'twere true, and I in vain have mourn'd,
The inconstant wind is with my fortune turn'd:
At the same view in which I saw to day,
The French their standards on the Hills display,
Another sight appear'd which griev'd me more,
All the Queens Galleys rowing from the Shore,
Fitting their Oars and Tackling to be gone,
VVhilst sporting VVaves smil'd on the rising Sun.

Asc.
Your Royal Orders may remove that fear,
And for a while confine her Galleys here;
And though in Honour she displeas'd may seem,
All her lost favour you may soon redeem:
And clear the guilt contracted on that score;
For, Sir, perhaps you can't oblige her more.

Ferd.
No more (my friend) these flatteries are vain!
Thou like an artist doth delude my pain,
With gentle promises, and hopes of Cure,
VVhen th'anguish grows too violent to endure.
But since
All ways are fled to in a desp'rate case,
Thy dang'rous Counsels I'le for once embrace!
And will resume my Courage: Prithee go,
And let the Adm'ral of her Galleys know,
I must confine him in the Port to day;
But then from me assure him that his stay
Not the least dammage to the Fleet shall bring,
And his compliance will oblige a King.

Asc.
Sir, I shall hasten on the bless'd design,
Since the concern is both my Kings and mine.—

Exit.
Ferd.
I'le to the Queen and by confession own,
The devout crime my trembling Love hath done;
Like those who still in hopes of pardon sin,
And all their crimes with penitence begin.—

Exit.
Enter Isabella, followed by Salerne.
Isab:
Rebel begone, thy passion I disdain!

Sal.
And I those frowns which you employ in vain.
The debt which to my fathers bloud I owe,
I yet have paid with a revenge too low.
The abject bloud of Vassals I have spilt,
And blush that fame on such mean crimes I've built.
To kill your Brother were revenge sublime,
And the great cause would consecrate the Crime;
But yet that debt I shall in part forgive,
And for your sake shall let your brother live.
The Regal style I'le suffer him to bear;
But I shall ease him from the Regal care.
I have another enemy beside,
The hopes of Charles which nourishes your pride:
But from those flames I shall your heart redeem:
For I'le at once both kill your hopes and him,
And pull your pride and all his glories down,
And fetch that Monarch's head, or lose my own.
Exit Sal.

Isab.
Who ever heard an insolence like this?
But this is rather fortunes crime then his;
He finds successes smile on his offence,
And now he swells to all this insolence;
And does so proud of his Rebellion grow,
He thinks all virtues must to treason bowe.

Enter Portia.
Por.
Madam, the Cyprian Queen is coming here!

Isab.
To take her last adieus of us I fear.

Enter Cornelia, Julia, Irene, Sylvia
Cor.
Madam, I come with sorrows to complain
Of my hard fate, with which I strive in vain.
My friends, the Winds and Seas have all combin'd,
To make me both ungen'rous and unkind;
And force me from you in your great distress,
The only time my friendship to express.

Isab.
Madam, in this your friends do faithful prove,
And act like Heav'n, who always doth remove,
The Souls he loves from evils he fore-knows,
And kindly takes them to their blest repose.

Cor.
Madam, this sacred truth I can't deny,
It is the same to part with friends, or dye.—

weeps.
Jren.
I find it so; yet, must my joys resign,—
Aside.
E're by possession I can call 'em mine,
That I the brave Ascanio n'ere had seen,
Or could command my friendship to the Queen.
My love and Loyalty my Soul divide,
I flatter both and dare take neither side.

Isab.
Madam, this death you safely may embrace:
Since you will only leave a mournful place,
Which seems like some wild Melancholy shade,
For the dark walks of guilty spirits made.
Nothing but terrour haunts us every where;
Pale sighing Cowards turn'd to Ghosts with fear.
Shouts of the Valiant, fainting womens cryes;
All intermixt with the loud Martial noise
Of Guns and Swords, and which is yet more loud,
The saucy Clamours of the Rebel Croud;
Which like the groans of Spirits in the night,
Women and Cowards with the noise affright.

Jul.
Aside.

Cor.
I by this death to strange Eliziums go,
Not joys and Crowns to gain, but to bestow.
That I the better VVorld forsake I fear,
And leaving you, leave joy and Angels here:
But I must yield to my Imperious fate;
For my kind father's the Venetian state,
Do at their wills dispose my Crown and me;
But I've reserv'd my self this liberty;
Nor winds, nor Seas shall intercept the share,
I'le in your sorrows, and misfortunes bear.

Isab.
Ah! Madam, you such generous kindness shew,
You seem like a bright Angel sent below,
To comfort us in our dejected state;
Or like a vision to foretel our fate.
Such lightnings some have had when near the Grave.
VVhy may not dying Kingdoms Visions have?

Iren.
My Queen great friendship ha's to her exprest,—
Aside.
VVhilst still her thoughts are to the King addrest.
Like one that praying would his Saint conceal,
To a wrong Image do's devoutly kneel.

Jul.
Do visions death foretel? VVhat do I hear?—
Aside.
Then I'm afraid my death for love is near.
Oh Heaven! If I from life so soon must flye,
Grant me one Vision more before I dye.

Cor.
Could I your fate foretel, I would not own,
Any ill news to you, nor to this Throne:
But Madam (if what fame ha's said is true)
Crowns and not sorrows are design'd for you.
'Tis said, if Charles shall this fair Kingdom gain,
'Tis he shall triumph, but 'tis you shall Reign

Isab.
Of Princes honours fame makes small esteem,
And speaks low things of me, and false of him.
He scorns his ancient passion to retain,
And I as much a Crown from him disdain.

Jul.
Ye Heavens, what power doth my heart surprize?
For I as much adore what you despise.
Aside.
My inward grief I can no longer bear,
To my fair friend I must impart a share.

She whispers Irene, and they both go out.
Cor.
But love oft hovers long within the breast,
VVhich is by beauty upon Youth imprest.
I've heard the King receiv'd his first alarms
Of youthful love from your Victorious charms.

Isab.
Madam, 'tis true, fame made a large report,
(VVhilst I i'th' glories of the Gallique Court
Sometimes consum'd) of that young Monarch's flame;
He shewing me all the gallantry became
A youthful Monarch, but ere that pretence
VVas well discover'd, I retir'd from thence.

Cor.
Against your will I fear.—

Isab.
By a Command
I durst not disobey, of Ferdinand
My Grandfather,
VVho then design'd me a less glorious Throne;
And the young Duke of Millane being grown
To mans estate, he sought alliance there—
confining me within that narrow Sphere.

Cor.
And this great King finding his passion vain,
Comes to revenge himself on your disdain.

Isab.
Some would that complement on me bestow;
But his ambitions do not aim so low.
I can derive it from a truer cause:
For (Madam know) when to obey the Laws
Of Heaven and Nature I subdued my mind,
To fix my self where the old King design'd,
I found the Duke of Millane (when I came)
T'enjoy of Sovereign nothing but the name.
His Youth was not so tender as his Soul.
He and his Sceptre under the controul
of wicked Sforsa, who with the pretence
Of being Guardian to his Innocence,
Betray'd th'unguarded Prince, and hourly sought,
VVhich way his death might be with safety wrought.
When I the treason came to understand,
I speedy aid from Naples did demand.
The Villane least we should his Plots surprize,
And his unfinish'd Vilanies chastise,
Raises these storms of War on Naples Throne,
To sink the power he fear'd, and save his own.

Cor.
Would Franc that does so much at Glory aim,
At such a Traytors call pursue his claim?

Isab.
Princes in eager chase of Crowns near mind
The way they take; but ride o're all they find.

Cor.
Since France this War had to the world declar'd,
How came th'old King thus strangely unprepar'd?

Isab.
The good old Monarch of a peaceful mind,
More to devotion then to armes inclin'd,
Grown credulous and dull with age and sloth,
Lov'd all those false reports that flatter'd both.
And so by Sforza was with lyes betray'd,
That France some other Crown design'd t'invade.
And till the French in Italy were come,
Was unprepar'd for all things but his Tomb.
Then when his life and Crown he could not save,
He quitted both and crept into his Grave.
And left my father in a ruin'd state;
Opprest with wars, and with the peoples hate,
Whose most unhappy Reign was scarce begun,
E're he resign'd the Kingdom to his son.—

Cor,
But what becomes of wicked Sforza still,
Durst he proceed in his intended ill?

Isab.
The rest like a dark secret from the dead,
Told by some walking discontented shade.
Too full of direful guilt and horrour grows,
Safely to hide or freely to disclose.
The Vilane having rais'd by Magick skill,
These throngs of Martial Spirits at his will,
To fill with noise of war th'Italian air,
Whilst near his Circle no one durst repair.
Now takes th'occasion of this cursed time,
When he with safety might pursue his crime,
When none might hear his dying Sovereign groan,
Or could revenge the murder when 'twas done,
To bring the poor young Duke to his command;
And wring the Sceptre from his tender hand.
And to acquaint you with a fatal truth,
Poisons at last the sweet and Princely youth.

Cor.
Oh Monster!—
What will not some men do high power to gain,
And wear a while a guilty Crown with pain?

Isab.
I must retire, my grief imperious grows,
And on my reason doth too much impose,—
Exit Isab.

Isabella goes out weeping: As Cornelia follows, Sylvia enters.—
Syl.
Gonsalvo Madam, do's your pleasure wait.

Cor.
I know the hast of the Venetian state,
To have my Crown;—but since I must away,
My Masters haughty pleasures I'le obey.
Admit him in—
Enter Gons.
Your Galleys Sir prepare.

Gons.
Madam they'r ready, and the Wind is fair.
The storms that lately rag'd upon the Coast,
Are out o' breath, and all their fury lost.
But whilst the Sea is smooth, and air is clear,
Madam we meet another tempest here.
A storm not from the Sea, but from the Court,
The King ha's stopt your Galleys in the Port.

Enter Ferdinand.
Ferd.
Yes—Madam—seeing my just accuser come,
I came to own my crime, and know my doom;
For on my honour I have wars begun,
And own the great offence my love hath done.

Cor.
Am I your Subject Sir?—doth Naples own,
Dues from my Kingdom, yet to me unknown.

Ferd.
Naples, its Crown, and Monarch claims no due;
But as they'r conquer'd to be rul'd by you.

Cor.
Am I by Laws of Nations captive made,
'Cause without leave I did your Shores invade?
For so 'tis said—
When unarm'd Princes to strange Lands betake,
Themselves they voluntary Captives make.

Ferd.
Madam 'tis true,—but you come arm'd with power;
Which makes me Captive and you Conquerour.
A power so charming all things must obey,
And where 'tis seen will have Imperial sway.

Cor.
Nor subject, nor a Captive;—then from whence
Arises, Sir, this high and great pretence
Of power, t'imprison here a Sovereign Queen?

Ferd.
From that—
Whence all rebellions in the world have been,
From flaming zeal,—
Which to all order we destructive find,—
And loves a zealous rapture of the mind.

Cor.
You act those things of which you are asham'd,
Then zeal and love must for your crimes be blam'd;
So to those virtues you injurious prove,
And bring an ill repute on zeal and love.
But, Sir you better reasons can relate,
Some secret Cause or Interest of state,
Or pride to let your Kingly power appear,
You exercise it first on strangers here.
And you make wars, (as you have well exprest
On those, who Sir) are like your self distrest.
But you had enemies enough before,
First conquer those; e're you make wars on more.

Ferd.
Madam, perhaps 'twas interest of state,
Since on your aid depends my Kingdoms fate!
For what can a despairing Monarch do.
To save his Crown, who is condemn'd by you?

Cor.
I know not what despair 'tis you pretend,
Nor yet what aid a depos'd Queen can lend.
Did I enjoy my Crown, perhaps I might
Support another injur'd Princes Right:
But then I never would afford my aid,
To those by whom I was a Prisoner made.

Fer.
You with the same devotion are detain'd,
As Heav'n with Prayers and Incense oft is chain'd,
Who seldom frowns on a devout offence,
And ne're chastises sacred violence.

Cor.
(Aside...)
What is't I hear? his love too generous grows,
And like rash Valour doth it self expose
To mighty dangers which it can defeat,
And from which Honour suffers no retreat. (...Aside.)

These trifling follies Sir you may forbear,—
To Ferd.
Your Kingdom rather do's require your care.
And if your Cause and Title Sir, are just,
You may your Life and Crown to Heav'n intrust;
Whom in your aid I often shall implore,
And in my state you can expect no more.

Exit Cor. Syl. Gonsalv.
Fer.
Are they too trifling? Yes fair Queen, with you,
Who those tormenting follies never knew;
How shall I bear this pang? it is above
My strength t'endure, or courage to remove.

Enter a Messenger in hast.
1. Mes.
Your army Sir, with high impatience waits
Your presence, whilst the French approch the Gates.

Enter a second.
2. Mes.
The Crouds once more, Sir, are rebellious grown,
Threatning to let the French into the Town.

Fer.
Let City, Army, Kingdom, perish all,
And share in their unhappy Monarch's fall;
Insulting love will no compassion learn,
And nothing else is worthy my concern.
But since the fair Cornelia will be gone,
I'le guard her hence, and hast to be undone.
And see her Admiral—
Enter Gonsalvo.
Your Fleet conveigh,
From hence no longer for my Orders stay.

Gon.
Y'oblige us, Royal Sir, with your consent:
But we are still confin'd; for since I went,
A Fleet of Galleys row'd in with the Tyde,
And fill the Harbours mouth on every side.
And the Admiral that doth his Flag advance,
In his main top displayes the Arms of France.

Fer.
Ha! from my enemies shall I receive
Aside.
That kindness which the Queen disdains to give.
The pow'rs of all mankind shall ne're detain
Those Glories here my service cannot gain.
Remain a while I will your passage clear,
Ile send to Sea, and first I'le fight 'em there.—

Exit Gons.
Ferdinand is going out, and is met by Ascanio, who enters in hast.
Asc.
Ah! Sir, with speed this traitrous Town forsake,
And to some place of strength your self betake.
The false Trivultio to the French is fled,
And hath some Thousands of your army lead.
The Citizens within once more rebel,
And your Guards side with those whom they should quel.
And whilst we wait your Orders to engage,
City and army both are in a rage;
Nay, seek your life, and are resolv'd to buy
With their Kings bloud the Kingdoms liberty.

Ferd.
How? with my bloud the Rebels safety bought?
The slaves dare dye, e're entertain that thought.
No, (my brave friend!) let not thy Loyalty
Betray thy Soul into kind fears for me.
Army and Rebels both shall at the sight
Of me
Fear their own thoughts, and shall not dare but fight.
As for Trivultio, if Charles is brave,
From him he'l the rewards of Treason have:
If not, let Charles and all the Traytors joyn,
'Twil from his Glory take and add to mine.—

Exit
Enter Charles, Trivultio, and Guard. The Scene a fair Countrey before Naples.
Ch.
And is my fame so little in this place,
Thou dar'st adventure on an act so base?
I thought my deeds my temper might have shewn,
And that my Character was better known;
But thou in malice would'st be entertain'd,
To stain the many Laurels I have gain'd;
Thy King despairing to preserve his Crown,
Would thus by arts make War on my renown.

Tri.
Sir, I came here on no such false design;
Nor is that Monarch any King of mine:
Though I have serv'd that Kingdom twenty years,
But of that long apprentiship appears
No fruit, but loss of bloud and many scars,
And some small fame got by success in Wars.
And now grown old and poor, if I desire
To serve some other Monarch, or retire,
May n't I my service as I please bestow?
Hard fate of Souldiers if it must be so.—

Ch.
And had'st thou such a low esteem of me,
That I would entertain thy Vilany?
And doth thy Mercenary Treason dare
Thy fortunes with the falls of Kings repair.
If from that service did no profit spring,
It was reward enough to serve a King;
And for a King 't had been a Souldiers pride,
For no reward but glory to have died:
But since for gain, th'ast to my banners fled,
Thy Treason I'le reward, and send thy head
To Ferdinand,—unless thou dost from hence
Withdraw thy Troops, and fight in his defence.

Trivultio goes out, and enters in hast, the D. of Orleance.
Lew.
Sir, they have made a sally from the Town,
And all life force they have is pouring down.
The fierce young King doth in the head appear,
Dispersing death, and slaughter ev'ry where,
And what success he finds he doth pursue,
Through all your Squadrons, Sir to seek out you.

Enter Mompensier.
Mom.
The enemy, Sir, doth your Guards assault,
And all those men that lately did revolt,
Repent their Crimes, and do your Guards betray,
Whilst through your Troops King Ferdinand cuts his way.

Ch.
Go Sacrifice the Villanes at my feet,
Let 'em my anger feel; whilst I go meet
The brave young King, and since he's hither flown,
Afford him yet one tryal for his Crown.—

Ex. om.