University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Brachiano's Palace.
Enter Flamineo and Marcello. Flamineo in a Masquerading Dress, a Vizard in his Hand.
Fla.
Brother, good welcome to us, welcome to Padua:
In all the weary Minutes of our Life,
Day ne'er broke out till now—
This Marriage of our Sister with the Duke,
Confirms us happy—Still that soure Camp Look!
Consider you're at Court, Man—You intend
To make one in the Masquerade to Night?

Mar.
I relish not these Fooleries of Court:
Methinks a foppish mumming Dress and Vizard,
As ill becomes a Soldier as a Priest.

Fla.
It worse becomes a Soldier to turn Cynick.

Mar.
O this unfortunate Sister!
I wou'd my Dagger's Point had cleft her Heart,
When first she saw Brachiano—You ['tis said]
Were made his Engine and his stalking Horse
To undo my Sister.

Fla.
I was a kind of Path
To Her's and my own Preferment.

Mar.
To your Ruine.

Fla.
Hum! Thou art a Soldier:
What has't got by't?

Mar.
Sir.

Fla.
Thou hast scarce Maintenance
To keep thee in fresh Shammoyes.

Mar.
Brother.

Fla.
Hear me: Thou feed'st thy Master's Victories,
As Witches do their serviceable Spirits,
Even with thy prodigal Blood; Where's the Reward?
Fame, Service to the Publick; a wise Reckoning!
Can'st purchase Land with't?—come, when Age shall turn thee
White as a blooming Hawthorn—

Mar.
I'll interrupt you.
For love of Virtue, bear an honest Heart,
And stride o'er ev'ry politick Respect,
Which where they most advance, they most infect.
Were I your Father, as I am your Brother,
I should not be ambitious to leave you
A better Patrimony.

Fla.
Well, I'll think on't.

Enter Ludovico disguis'd like a Moor, Antonio and Gasparo in Capuchin's Habits, bearing their Swords and Helmets before 'em.
Mar.
More Mimickry?

Fla.
Why, that's the valiant Moore,
A Man of your own Function.

Mar.
Mulinassar?

Fla.
The same newly Arriv'd.

Mar.
Have you confer'd with him?

Fla.
Yes in the Duke's Closet.

Mar.
I have not seen a goodlier Personage.

Fla.
Nor ever talk'd Man better experienc'd
In State Affairs, or Rudiments of War:
He has by Report serv'd the Venetian
In Candy, these twice seven years, and been Chief
In many a bold Design.

Mar.
What are these two that bear him Company?

Fla.

Two Noblemen of Hungary [that living in the Emperor's
Service as Commanders eight Years, since contrary to the expectation
of all the Court] enter'd into Religion in the strict
Order of Capuchine's; but being not well settled in their Resolution,
they left their Order, and return'd to Court; for which being
afterwards troubled in Conscience, they vow'd their Service
against Infidels, went to Malta, and were there Knighted, and

in their return back, [at this great Solemnity] they resolve for
ever to forsake the World, and settle themselves here in a House
of Capuchines, in Padua.

Mar.

'Tis strange.

Fla.

One thing makes it so; they have vow'd for ever to
wear, next to their bare Bodies, those very Coats of Male they
serv'd in.

Mar.
Hard Penance—The Moor's Business?

Fla.
To offer his Service to our Duke;
Because he understands there's like to grow
War betwixt us and the great Duke of Florence,
In which he hopes Preferment.

Florish, Enter in State Brachiano, Vittoria, with Guards and Train.
Bra.
You are nobly welcome, we have heard at full,
Your Honourable Service 'gainst the Turk.
To you brave Mulinassar we assign
A compleat Pension, and are only sorry,
The Vows of these two worthy Gentlemen,
Make them incapable of our proffer'd Bounty:
Your Wish is, you may leave your Warlike Sword,
For Monuments in our Chappel; I accept it
As a great Honour done me, and must crave
Your leave to furnish out our Dutchess Revels
Only one as the last Vanity,
You e'er shall view, deny me not to stay
To see a a Barriers perform'd to Night,
You shall have private Standings.

Lud.
I shall perswade 'em.

Bra.
I formerly have known
To touch a Lance, 'twas our Youth's Exercise,
Our self will make one at these Turnaments:
Set on then to the Presence.

[Exit. Manent Conspirators, and Flamineo on the other side.
Several Ladies Masqu'd, pass over the Stage.
Fla.
There goes the Covey, I must single out one before the Ball begins,
'Tis the right use of Masquerading.

Exit.
Lud.
Ha, ha, ha! Thus far our Plot thrives well,
A Barrier fought to Night to grace his Nuptials;
He could not have invented his own Ruine,
[Had he despair'd] with more Dexterity.

Ant.
As how my Lord?

Lud.
T'have poyson'd his Prayer-Book or Beads,
Or Pummel of his Saddle, his Looking-Glass,
Or handle of his Racket; had been Vulgar.
I'll take him off in all his Pomp and Bravery:
These Turnaments shall be his Obsequies;
You have Implements of Death in readiness.

Gasp.
Ponyard or Poyson, for, like dext'rous Artists,
We carry still our Instruments about us.

Lud.
Along with me, I'll set you soon to Work.

[Exeunt.
[As they go off, Zanche enters in a Vizard and Masquerade Dress.]
Zanch.
That Moor's my Country-man, a goodly Person,
I will at leasure Discourse with him in our Language—What's here,
Flamineo encountring with a Masque? That's well,
The Lady slights him.

[Flamineo returns, dragging in one of the Masque-Women, she breaks from him.
Fla.
Coyness in a Masque?

Zan.
I'll take advantage of the Accident,
And this Disguise to try his Constancy.
If he has flatter'd me, Revenge shall teach him,
What 'tis to wrong the Moor.
[Goes up to him.
Despair not slighted Sir, ye're in a Court, Love's Market,
Where all Wares goes off to one or other.

Fla.
I'me for the first kind Bidder.

Zan.
You are Flamineo.

Fla.
You are a Witch.

Zan.
I know you are Flamineo, I saw you unvizarded but now.

Fla.
You saw a worse Face then: 'Twas my ill Fortune.

Zan.
Neither your Face nor Fortune are to blame,
This Accident may turn to your Advantage;
Retire with me, and I'll instruct you.

Fla.
You'l find me an apt Scholar, my Apartment's
Here i'th' Gallery, very private,—never
Was Thief that had stol'n a rich Cabinet,
So impatient to unease it.

Zan.
Soft Sir, you first must satisfie me about a small Scruple,

Fla.
What?

Zan.
Of Conscience.

Fla.
How Conscience in Vizard?

Zan.
'Tis said you have been Carnal with a Moor.

Fla.
You mean Zanche?

Zan.
And are Enamour'd on her.

Fla.
That's Carbonado'd.

Zan.
You love the Infidel, have sworn it to her.

Fla.
I own I have made Love to the Moor,
And I do Love her—just as a Man holds
A Wolf by the Ears—

Zan.
And but for her turning upon you, and tearing your Throat.

Fla.
You are an Oracle.

Zan.
She's Conscious then, I guess, of some sweet
Pranks of yours—It must be so—
—Come be a kind Flatterer at least, and
Make me believe your Protestations to her
Were not the effect of Love, but Interest.

Fla.
What shall I swear by Friends, or Fury's?
Or by that more Infernal Moor herself.

Zan.
Yet 'tis reported she claims Marriage of you.

Fla.

Why, I have made her such a dark Promise, and in seeking
to fly from it, I run like a frighted Dog with a Bottle at his
Tail.

Zan.

So.

Fla.

Not a word more of that Succubus, in presence of my
Venus. Your Face must answer the Character, that Mien and
Shape and Wit are Sureties for it.

Zan.
You'l swear that too.

Fla.
What should Beauty do in a Vail—unshroud my Cynthia,
And bless me with your illustrious Face.

Zan.
To gratifie my dear Endymion.

[Unmasques.
Fla.
A most illustrious Face indeed.

Zan.
Villain, perfideous Villain.

Fla.

Ha, ha, ha, my charming Daughter of Darkness, I think
I have met with you for your Jealousy—Did not I act it
rarely?

Zan.

You knew me then?

Fla.

Knew thee? There's Sympathy in true Affection, that
sees thro' all Disguises—I should chide you now—But
this foolish easie Nature of mine,—Well 'twas great Mark
Anthony's weakness, with his Sun-burnt Mistress—Come my
Cleopatra, our bickering, like theirs, must end in kind Embraces.

Zan.
Go, go, you know too well my easie Nature.
[Whilst he unlocks the Door, she speaks under.
Now will I put on another Vizard of Dissimulation.
Enter the Room with him,
And study a Moor's Revenge, whilst in his very Arms.

Fla.
Consider my dear Child of Night, time's pretious.

Zan.

Dear Tempter, why will you press me thus knowing
my Frailty.

Fla.
For that reason, come thou shalt.

[Kisses her.
Enter Marcello.
Mar.
I'm sick of this Court-Air, stifl'd with Perfumes,
And must have Breathing-room—Ha.

[Sees Flam.
Fla.

Where are ye, you lying Poets, you that daub'd o'er a
Phillis or Cloris's Green-Sickness Face with Poetical Paint, Here's
Rose and Lilly; Nector and Ambrosia.

[Kisses her again, and pulls to the Door.
Mar.
Brother,

Fla.
Ha!

Mar.
Is this your Pearch you Haggard? Hence to th'Stew's.

Zan.
Ruffian, you shall be clapt by th'Heels for this,
For thus affronting one of Quality.

Mar.
Quality! I saw your hellish Face unmasqu'd,
More frightful than your Vizzard.

Zan.

Rogue in Shammy, Is this your Camp-breeding, to play
the Russian in Court?

Mar.
You're a Strumpet, an impudent one.

Fla.
Why d'y' kick her?

Mar.
She brags you're to marry her.

Fla.
What then?

Mar.
I had rather she were pitch'd upon a Stake
In some new seeded Garden, to affright
Her Sister's Crow's thence.

Fla.
You're a Boy, a Fool;
Be Guardian to your Hound, I am of Age.

Mar.
If I take her near you, I'll cut her Throat.

Fla.
With a Tun of Feathers.

Mar.
And for You,
I'll whip this Folly from you.

Fla.
Are ye cholerick, Bully? I'll purge't with Rhubarb.

Mar.
This to your elder Brother!

Fla.
Brother! Hang ye.
You wrong me most that should offend me least.
Brother!
I do suspect my Mother play'd foul play
When she conceiv'd thee.

Mar.
Now (forgive me Nature!)
Like the two slaughter'd Sons of Oedipus
The very Flames of our Affection
Shall turn two ways—revile our Mother's Honour!
These execrable! I'll make thee expiate
With thy Heart's Blood.

Fla.
White-liver'd Dastard—Bully.
You see I am unarm'd, and take your time.

Mar.
If thou art Brave, as thou art Insolent,
Here take my Sword, and sit the Length of 't.

Fla.
I shall, Sir.

[Exit with the Sword.
Enter Cornelia.
Cor.
Marcello, stay; wherefore were you so loud?
Who brok'ring with? Who was your Opposite?
And what's your Quarrel?

Mar.
You see here's no Antagonist.

Cor.
Nay, Sir,
I heard your Brother's Voice too.

Mar.
'Twas your Fancy.

Cor.
Will you dissemble? Son, you do not well,
To fright me thus; you never look thus pale,
But when you are most angry—I do charge you
Upon my Blessing—nay, I'll call the Duke,
And he shall chide you.

Mar.
Publish not a Fear
Which will convert to Laughter—Hear me, Madam,
This was my Father's Picture.

Cor.
Yes.

Mar.
I have heard you say when in your Arms you carry'd
My younger Brother, how he took this Picture,
And by portentous Force with's Infant Hands
Half tore it as in Scorn and Indignation.

Cor.
Yes, but 'twas mended.

Mar.
Such early Sacriledge was surely ominous
And most ill-boding; what! those awful Features!
Pray mark 'em! I cou'd dwell an Age upon 'em,
And almost pay this Image Adoration.

Cor.
Thrice pious Youth, and Comfort of my Soul.

Fla.
I have brought your Weapon back.

[Re-enter Flam.
Cor.
O Horror!

Mar.
You have brought it home indeed.

Cor.
Help, Murder, Help.

Fla.
D'ye turn your Gill up? I'll to Sanctuary,
And send a Surgeon to you.

[Exit.
Mar.
O Mother! now remember what I told you
[Enter Lud. Gasp. and Ant.
About the mangled Picture of my Father.
There are some Sins, that have their Punishment
In a whole Family—This it is to rise
By base dishonest means—Farewel.

[Dies
Cor.
O my perpetual Sorrow!

Lud.
Read you here,
The Meaning of the Outcry—Virtuous Marcello.

Gasp.
He's dead; pray leave him Lady.

Ant.
Come, you must.

[They take him up.
Cor.

Alas! he is not dead, he's but in a Trance; why, Sir,
here's no body shall get any thing by his Death, let me call him
again for pity sake.

Lud.

I wish you were deceiv'd.

Cor.

O! you abuse me; how many have gone away thus
for lack of Tendance—Rear up his Head, his Bleeding
inward kills him.

Ant.

You see he is departed.

Cor.

Let me come to him: Give me him as he is. If he
be turn'd to Earth, I'll moulder with him in one Tomb.
Reach a Glass hither, and see if's Breath will stain it. Cordials
quickly. O Savages! will you loose him for a little Pains
taking?

Lud.

Your kindest Office, is to pray for him.

Cor.

Alas! He's young enough to lay me in the Ground, let
me come to him.

Enter Brachiano in Armour, all but his Head, a Page bearing his Beaver, Flamineo driven in before 'em.
Bra.
Where were you posting with such guilty Haste,
[To Flam.
And those distracted Looks? Wherefore on wing,
After a hideous Outcry in our Court?
Who call'd out Murder?

[To the Company.
Lud.
That speechless Oracle can best resolve
That Question.

Bra.
Was this your Handy-work?

Fla.
'Twas my Misfortune:

Cor.

He lies, he lies, he did not kill him; 'twas these that

murder'd him, who wou'd not suffer him to be better look'd
to.

Bra.
Take Comfort, my griev'd Mother.

Cor.
Out Screech-Owl.

Lud.
Forbear, good Madam.

Cor.
Let me go—
[Breaks from them, runs to Flamineo with her Ponyard drawn, coming to him gazes, and lets it fall.
The injur'd Powers forgive thee: Do'st not wonder
I pray for thee—I'll tell thee what's the Reason:
I have scarce Breath to number twenty Minutes,
And would not have them spent in Cursing: Fare thee well:
Half of thy self lies there: And may'st thou live
To fill an Hour-glass with his moulder'd Ashes,
To tell how thou should'st pass thy time to come,
In sad Repentance.

Bra.
Pray tell me, Madam,
How came he by his Death?

Cor.
Indeed my Boy that's dead, presum'd too much
Upon his Manhood; gave him bitter Words,
Drew his Sword first, and so I know not how
[For I was past my Sences] fell with's Head
Just in my Bosom.

Page.
This is not true, Sir;
For as I cross'd the Passage with your Beaver,
I saw at distance—

Cor.
Peace, I pray thee Peace;
One Arrow's graz'd already, and 'twere vain
To loose the Shaft is left,
For that which never will be found again.

Bra.
Hence bear the Body to Cornelia's Lodging,
And we command that none acquaint our Dutchess
With this sad Accident, Flamineo.

Fla.
Now for a dextrous Lye, of good Complection,
A wicked, read and commodious Lye:
[Here the Conspirators Antonio and Gasparo take the Beaver aside and venom'd Powder.
I ha't.
I see, Sir, by your questioning stern Looks,
You would be satisfi'd about this Quarrel;
Take it in brief—He was my younger Brother.

Bra.
What of that?

Fla.
And gave me insolent Language.

Bra.
A Brother's Blood for a rash Word?

Fla.
Such Words
Would call down Thunder, he traduc'd
The Honour of my Mother, call'd me Bastard.

Bra.
How, Sir?

Fla.
He said he did suspect
My Mother play'd foul play when she conceiv'd me.

Bra.
This was too gross, if true—but
Be it as 'twill, I grant you not your Pardon.

Fla.
No!

Bra.
Only a Lease of Life, and that shall last
But for one Day—
Thou shalt be forc'd each Evening to renew it.

Fla.
At your pleasure—your Will is now a Law.

[Trumpet.
Bra.
Hark there, the Summons to the Barrier,
We make the Sport wait for us: Where's my Beaver?

Page.
The Beaver there: His Highness's Beaver.

Gasp.
He calls for his Destruction.

Lud.
Are you sure on't?

[Exeunt all but the Conspirators.
Ant.
I'll trust th'Ingredients, were he Cerberus,
Or tho' three-liv'd Geryon, 'twould dispatch him.

Lud.
This is, methinks, the Triumph of Revenge,
To arrest and seize him in the height of Revelling,
And on his Bridal Night too.

Gasp.
Add but this;
To sink him lower in th'Infernal Lake,
That the last Deed he did he pardon'd Murder.

[Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Tilt-yard.
Charges and Shouts.
Enter hastily Brachiano, Flamineo, and others.
Bra.
An Armourer, Blood, Fire, an Armourer.

Fla.
The Armourer, fly, call the Armourer.

Bra.
Tear off my Beaver.

[Enter Armourer.
Fla.
Are you hurt, my Lord?

Bra.
O my Brain's on Fire.

Arm.
Upon my Life, my Lord—

Bra.
Away with him to Torture.
There are some great ones have a hand in this,
And near about me.

[Enter Vittoria.
Vitt.
O my lov'd Lord!

Fla.
Remove the Barr: Here are unfortunate Revels.
Call the Physicians.
[Enter Physicians.
Your own Art confound you,
We have too much of your Cunning here already.

Bra.
O I am gone past help; the curst Infection
Flies to the Brain and Heart. O thou strong Heart,
There's such a strong League 'twixt the World and thee,
You're loath to part.

[Enter Giovanni.
Giov.
How fares my noble Father?

Bra.
Remove the Boy away.
Where's this good Woman? Had I a thousand World's,
They were too little for thee: Must I leave thee?
What say you Screech Owls, is the Venom mortal?

Phy.
Most deadly.

Bra.
Most corrupted politick Hangmen,
You kill without Book, but your Art to save
Fails you as sure as great Men needy Friends.
I that have given Life to offending Slaves,
To wretched Murderers, have I not Power
To lengthen my own out for one Twelve-month? Off,
Do not kiss me, for I shall poison thee:
This Unction's sent from the great Duke of Florence.

Vitt.
Sir, be of Comfort.

Bra.
O thou soft natural Death that art Joint-twin
To softest Slumber; no rough bearded Comet
Shares in thy mild Departure; the dull Raven
Beats not against thy Casement; the hoarse Wolf
Scents not thy Carrion; Pity windes thy Course,
Whilst Horror waits on Princes.

Vitt.
I'm lost for ever.

[Conspirators enter.
Bra.
How miserable a thing it is to die
'Mongst Women howling. What are these?

Fla.
Franciscans;
Come to perform you their last Office.

Bra.
On Pain of Death, let no Man name Death to me;
It is a Word infinitely terrible.
Withdraw into our Cabinet.

[They carry him off.
Ant.
We have struck mortally this royal Stag.

Gasp.
Let's follow to his Bay.

Ant.
And see him worry'd by his own Quack Dogs.

Gasp.
And wash our Hands in's Gore.

Lud.
O 'twill compleat the Sport.

[Exeunt.