University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Grotto, Isabella leaning over a Fountain, Brachiano enters with a surly Deportment, she makes him a low Reverence, and moving forward a second or third time.
Bra.
You are in health, I see.

Isa.
And above health to see my Lord well.

Bra.
So: I wonder much
What amourous Whirlwind hurry'd you to Rome?

Isa.
Devotion, my Lord.

Bra.
Devotion!
Is your Soul charg'd with any grievous Sin?

Isa.
'Tis burthen'd with too many, I think:
The oftner that we make up our Accounts,
Our Sleeps will be the sounder.

Bra.
Take your Chamber.

Isa.
Nay, my dear Lord, I must not have you angry—
Does not my Absence from you two whole Months,
Merit one Smile?

Bra.
I smile upon no Females.
If that will dispossess your Jealousy,
I'll swear it too.

Isa.
O my dear Lord, I do not come to chide.
My Jealousy! alas, I am to learn
What that Italian means.
You are as welcome to these longing Arms
[Offers to embrace him.
As I to yours a Virgin.

Bra.
O your Breath!
Out upon Sweet-meats and continual Physick.

[Flings her off.
Isa.
You have for these neglected Cassia,
And early Sweets of the Spring Violet;
They are not yet much wither'd—
My Lord, you should be gentle now; these Frowns
Shew in a Helmet lovely; but not on me—

[Weeps.
Bra.
O Crocodile!

Isa.
Had I, who am the Sufferer,
Been the Offender, this submissive Posture
Might plead a Pardon and prevail—
Behold, my Lord, upon her humble Knees
Your injur'd Wife suing for Reconcilement!
Return to me, and to your self return;
Shake off this sullen Cloud and shine again
The dazling Wonder of the World; return,
If not to me, to Fame, Content, and Quiet.

Bra.
Content and Quiet! 'twas for that I left
My haunted House, and see! the Goblin follows me.
I cry ye mercy; you are Flesh and Blood,
Your Business, Assignation with some Gallant,
That must supply our Discontinuance.

Isa.
Support me Love! this is a stunning Blow,
To stagger Duty, and make Patience start!
I pray, Sir, break my Heart, and in my Death
Turn to your former Pity, tho' not Love.

Bra.
Or was't your Politicks? for you have learnt
To bandy, faction with me and complain
To your Kindred.

Isa.
Never, my dear Lord:
So far from such Remonstrance of my Wrongs,
That, Oh! I strive to hide 'em from my self,
And chide my Memory when it turns Informer.

Bra.
Because your Brother
Is the Great Duke, that is, the Corpulent Duke of Florence.
'Twas he first made this Match; Accurst the Priest
That sung the Wedding Mass, and for my Issue—

Isa.
O too too far you have Curst—

Bra.
Your Hand I'le kiss.
This is the last Ceremony of my Love,
Henceforth I'le never Bed with you; be this my Witness,
This Wedding Ring; I'le ne'er more sleep with you—
And this Divorce shall be as duly kept,
As if the Judge had doom'd it; Fare you well,
Our Sleeps are sever'd.

Isa.
Forbid it the sweet Union
Of all things Sacred; why the listning Stars
[A Noise under Ground.
Will start at this! The Stars! Earth groan'd to hear it.
Is it firm Ground we tread—
Or the Convulsion here—

[Laying her Hand at her Breasts.
Bra.
Let not thy Love
Make thee an Unbeliever, this my Vow
Shall never on my Life be disannull'd
By Recantation, let thy Brother Rage
Beyond a Lapland Tempest, or Sea Fight,
My Vow is fix'd.

Isa.
O my Winding Sheet!
For I shall need thee shortly; dear my Lord,
Let me hear once more, what I wou'd not hear; never?

Bra.
Never.

[Lightning and Thunder.
Isa.
Nay then 'twas more than Fancy, Earth did groan,
And answer'd now with Vengeance from above.
O my unkind Lord, may you for this find Mercy,
As I upon my woful Widdow'd Bed
Shall pray for you; that you wou'd turn your Eyes,
If not upon your wretched Wife and Son,
Yet that in time you'd fix 'em upon Heaven;
In time, before the gracious Season's o'er,
And Mercy's Gate shall never open more.

Bra.
Ha!

Isa.
Our Sacred Band dissolv'd, methinks we look
Like the Transgressing Pair from Eden chas'd,
A dreadful Vow fix'd, like the flaming Sword,
High brandisht and divorcing our Return;
But here's the Disproportion, Exil'd Eve
Fled with her Consort; I condemn'd Forlorn,
To wander a wide World of Woe alone!

Bra.
Go, Go, Complain to the great Duke your Brother,
And now's your time, He's sailing down the Walk
With his loud Mouth'd Church-Second; Go, ply him
With a Broad Side; he has Bulk to bear it.

Isa.
No my dear Lord, you shall have present Proof,
How I'le work Peace between you—I will make
My self the Author of your cruel Vow;
I have some Cause to do it, you have none!

Bra.
Her self the Author, that's no ill Conitrvance.

Isa.
Conceal it I beseech you for the weale
Of both your Kingdoms, how 'twas you that wrought
This Separation, let the Fault and Blame
Remain with my imagin'd Jealousie.

Bra.
Well, take your Course.

Isa.
To make you Friends, I will to Shades Retire,
(Like an unmatched Turtle there to Mourn)
For your Repose I weigh not the World's Censure,
The World and I have done—yet I cou'd wish
At this last Scene, a crowded Theatre
To gazing Statues with Attention charm'd,
Till rouz'd with more than personated Moans,
[Enter Francisco and Montacelsi.
They rung my Plaudit with a peal of Groans.

Bra.
My Honourable Brother,

Fra.
Honour'd indeed, if on fair terms permitted
To hold your Friendship—Ha? Why Sister! Is this well?
Sister—My Lord—she merits not this Welcome.

Bra.
Welcome said ye? She's given me a sharp Welcome.

Mont.
How pass'd the Interview betwixt you? Was
Your Husband loud?

Fra.
What e'er he was, she's Dumb.

Isa.
What's that Dumb! A Woman Dumb?
And under Provocation—Go Sir,
And preach this Passive Nonsence to your Slaves,
Try how the Charm will work—This is hard Penance
[Aside.
To Insult my kindest Friend, and more than Brother.
Are all these Ruines of my former Beauties,
[To Bra.
Laid out on a Whore's Triumph?

Fra.
Do you hear,
Look upon other Women, with what Patience
They suffer these slight Wrongs.

Isa.
Tell me of Precedents?
Let Politicians, Poets, Pedants,
Physicians, Petty-foggers, follow Precedents;
I'm an Original.

Fra.
Not worth the Copying.

Isa.
O that I were a Man, or now had Power
To execute my Wishes,
I wou'd whip some with Scorpions.

Mont.
What! turn'd Fury?

Isa.
Hold; I'le publish a Decree,
That Ladies look well to their Hearts—Marriage is
A Lottery! Ten Blanks to a Prize; the Bride will turn to Wife,
Queen for a Day, and Slave for all her Life.

Bra.
What can you make of this?

Mont.
I know not, Mystery or Madness.

Isa.
If you'll bind me down to Presidents,
Your Modern are too mean—Let me have Musick,
Banquets and Revels, all the pomp of Pleasure,
T'out-shine Semiramis and Cleopatra—

Fra.
Witchcraft and Sorcery!

Isa.
I pray Sir tell me,
[Aside to Bra.
How like you my Performances?

Bra.
Admirable, and like a topping Actress.

Isa.
The Part's new,
And never to be play'd again.

Mont.
Distraction! Phrensy!

Isa.
Sir, by your reverend Leave,
Church-men shou'd never be Censorious; Phrensy?
You shall have Proofs I am in sober Sadness—
Brother draw near, and you my Lord Cardinal—
Sir, let me borrow of you but one Kiss,
[To Bra. Aside.
Henceforth I'le never Bed with you; be this my Witness,
This Wedding Ring.

Fra.
How?

Isa.
And this Divorce shall be as duly kept,
As if in throng'd Court thousand Ears had heard,
And thousand Lawyers seal'd the Separation.

Bra.
Never more Bed with me!

Isa.
Let not my former Dotage,
Make thee an Unbeliever, this my Vow
Shall never be Repeal'd by Recantation.

Bra.
Support me Love, this is a stunning Blow!
Who waits there fetch the Prince,
Come Sir for pitty's sake—And you, my Lord,
[To Francisco to Mont.
Your Word shou'd carry Authority.

Fra.
I've done—Enjoy your Rashness, keep your Vow,
And take your Chamber.

Isa.
No Sir,
I'le instantly to Padua.

Mont.
To Bedlam.

Fra.
The only Cure is to Indulge her Humour.

Bra.
You see 'tis none of my seeking!

[Enter Giovanni.
Fra.
To have her come
To my Lord Cardinal to beg a Dispensation
Of her rash Vow! O 'twill breed excellent Laughter!

Bra.
O Isabella my perpetual Bride!
What must our Loves before our Life divide?
Had I, who am the Sufferer, been the Offender
What cou'd I more? See on his bended Knee,
The injur'd Husband sues for Reconcilement!

Gio.
Speak Madam, why d'ye Weep?
[Isabella looks by Turns upon her Husband and Child, then Swoons with Passion.
I've seen you Weep before; but these are angry Tears:
If I'm in fault, I come to ask Forgiveness;
Chide me, but tenderly, as you were wont to do,
And so be Friends again!

Bra.
Help, Help all! But all I fear too late!
My Isabella, will you, can you leave me?
Like an unmatched Turtle to retire
And pine in Shades?

Isa.
That was my dear Lord's Voice, and sounded kind,
Where is my Love—Ah! flattering Vision!
So slumbring Prisoners of a Pardon Dream,
And wake to Execution! Off! Unhand me;
I was your Bond-slave; but the Contract's cancel'd:
Now free as Air, and wilder than the Wind.
Ha! My poor Boy! O 'tis too much to bear!

[Aside.
Bra.
That's well retriev'd.

Isa.
Have you not heard how Cloud compelling Jove,
With hizzing Bolts the rattling Tempest drove;
But Juno, when she did a Rival see,
Lighten'd and thunder'd twice as loud as He?

Bra.
Rare Counterfeit, how it makes my politick Engins stare, Ha, ha!

Isa.
So the Gulph's shot; the raving Feaver spent,
And I grow sick at Heart!
Now for the parting Pang, one dear last Look;
And yet another last—Down stubborn Woe,
Break suffering Heart, in silent Sorrow break:
Those are the killing Griefs that dare not speak.

[Exit with Giov.
Bra.
You see, my Lord, 'tis possible
For ablest Politicians to mistake;
I was th'Aggressor.

Fra.
Well, Sir, we beg your Pardon, if in Fault.

Mont.
And, Sir, be you advis'd how dangerous 'tis
To insult too soon.

[Officers of the Inquisition Court appear.
Fra.
O, you are welcome:
Is your Court summon'd?

Off.
All in Readiness, the Prisoner's brought to th'Bar.

Mont.
Vittoria apprehended?

Off.
In Custody, my Lord.

Bra.
Ha! Pris'ners, Custody, Vittoria!
The matter Lords? These Ravens never croak
But Mischief's near.

Mont.
The Mischief's come already;
Our drowzy Politicks have watcht, it seems,
While yours was fast—Camillo our Commission'd Kinsman
With other Captains met to pass the last Night
In Sailors Merriment, and drinking Healths,
To their boon Voyage—A long Night for him—
He's dead.

Bra.
What's that to the Lady?
Was she Commission'd too?

Fra.
Nor was your Flamineo,
Yet he was present—If y'are disposed
For further Information—you may grace
The Tryal with your Presence.

Bra.
If 'twas Design, your swift Intelligence
Carries a scurvy Face.

Mont.
Honest Marcello
Sent instant notice for a Guard to come
And seize the Company.

[Ex. Franc. and Mont.
Bra.
The Riddle's out.
Flamineo charg'd as Agent, and Vittoria
As accessary—Be't as 'twill,
Such over-speedy Justice is Injustice:
I will make't my Precedent.
With me th'endang'ring of a Mistress's Life,
Is ample Warrant to dispatch a Wife.