University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Hall.
BIRENO
alone.
Her death must be the means. If these be crimes,
Thou bright Ambition, whose rare alchimy,
Like Midas' palm, turns all it grasps to gold,
Give them thy glorious splendor! What a coil
Does puny Conscience make in little minds,
Ere they o'erleap obstruction! Fear, not virtue,
Keeps mankind honest. Each inordinate wish
Is guilt unacted, and the canon points
More 'gainst the coward heart, that wou'd and dare not,
Than the bold deed, that braves the penalty.

SCENE II.

BIRENO,
ASCANIO.
Welcome, Ascanio! Thanks for this kind speed
To meet my summons. I have business for thee,
Worthy thy subtle genius; thou shalt aid me
To spread a banquet forth, where two sharp guests,
Ambition and Revenge, shall both be feasted,
Even to satiety.

ASCANIO.
I will not pall
Performance by protesting. Is there aught
In which a pliant tongue, and ready hand,
(No despicable engines) may do service?
To their best cunning use them; your poor bondman
Will think himself much honour'd in obedience.

BIRENO.
I have profess'd myself thy friend, Ascanio!
And when the golden autumn of my hopes,
(Whose rich maturity I now wou'd hasten)
Is ripe for bearing, thou shall taste the fruit
That bends my swelling branches.

ASCANIO.
I have liv'd
The creature of your bounty; and my life
I would cast from me, like a useless load,
When to your gracious ends unprofitable.

BIRENO.
My means have hitherto been poor and scanty,
My power confin'd; but I shall be, Ascanio,
Like a great river, whose large urns dispense
Abundance to the subject rills around him,
Till they o'erpeer their banks.

ASCANIO.
Oh, my good lord!

BIRENO.
I'll trust thee as I know thee—for a villain.—
[Aside.
Place thyself near me when the council meets,
(I shall make matter for them they foresee not)
Whate'er I urge, or whomsoe'er I charge,
Be ready thou with the grave mockery
Of uplift eyes, thy hand thus on thy breast,
And heaven-attesting oaths to second me.

ASCANIO.
Prime in the catalogue of mortal sins,
I hold unthankfulness, and a friend's need,
Makes fiction virtue when its end is kindness.

BIRENO.
To give more ready credence to the imposture,
Put on reluctant seeming; earnestly
Entreat, they urge you not; sadden thy brow,
And cry, “Alas! compell me not to speak—
“I know not what I saw.” Mumble some cant,
“Of frailty, and compassion, sins of youth,
“The danger of the law, if it were urg'd
“'Gainst all transgressions;” thus shall thy declining
Be eked out to a stubborn certainty
In each suspended hearer.

ASCANIO.
Nay, my Lord;
Disparage not the good gifts were born with me,
To think I can want schooling for this office.

BIRENO.
I pray you pardon me.—Oh, Nature! Nature!
[Aside.
There is a pride even in stark villainy,
Which flattery's heat must soften, ere the metal
Bend to our purposes.—Come this way with me,
The hall will soon be throng'd; what more remains
I will impart within.—No ceremony.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

LUCIO, an OFFICER.
OFFICER.
See where they pass; what bodes that conference?

LUCIO.
Danger, my life on't. That smooth knave Ascanio
Is the Duke's crucible, his breast receives
The mass of his crude projects, and his brain
A subtle fire refines the drossy ore,
To bear the ready stamp for present mischief.

OFFICER.
The Duke of late grows past his custom courteous,
Joins hands with us, and calls us by our names,
Gives praise, and largess to the soldiery,
Whom he was wont to style, State caterpillars,
Burthens of peace, and but endur'd in war,
As necessary evils.

LUCIO.
It denotes
(Or I lack charity) trouble to the state.
I know him proud, subtle, and pitiless;
Nor will his nature change these elements,
However for a season he put on
A smoother guise, and fashion suitable
To the end he aims at.

OFFICER.
Best conceal these thoughts,
For one day he may rule us.

LUCIO.
Ay, that may,
If I mistake not, he will snatch from chance,
And make a certainty. But see the king.
The providence of heaven be ever round him!

SCENE IV.

KING, Counsellors, Knights, Attendants.
[Lucio.]
Health to your Majesty!

KING.
Thanks, gentle friends!
But why this faintness in your salutations?
Why wear your brows that ominous livery?
I trust our gallant spirits will not palter,
Because a rash invader threatens us.
When I was young as you, to hear of war
Made my blood dance: but these good days are past,
This sapless trunk shrinks from its mailed bark;
Yet age has still its use, count me your steward,
Holding the honours of the state in trust
For all deservers;—She shall better thank you;

SCENE V.

To the above, PRINCESS, Attendants.
[King.]
More retribution dwells in beauty's smile,
Than in whole volumes of an old man's praise.
Approach, my child! Come, grace thy father's side:
These are thy champions; give your women tasks,
Bid all the looms of Pavia ply their labors,
A scarf for every warrior, they'll deserve them.

PRINCESS.
They will not want my thanks, nor such poor tokens
How much I prize their worth; their high-touch'd virtue
Finds in itself the source and end of action;
Secures its right to praise, but scorns to take it.

SCENE VI.

To the above, BIRENO, ASCANIO.
KING.
Welcome, my cousin! Doubt not of my zeal;
Tho' ill has the success kept pace with it,
To speed your amorous suit, still let us hope,
Time, and your fair pretensions, will have weight
To win her to our wishes.

BIRENO.
Let it pass;
I must take comfort: women's appetites
Will be their own purveyors. Are we met?
The hall, methinks, seems full.

KING.
Where's Paladore?
He had our summons, yet I see him not:
His skill in war, and wisdom to advise,
Have been most tutelary to our realm,
And well deserve the waiting.

BIRENO.
Take your place;
He cannot now be present; when we are seated,
I will declare the reason.

PRINCESS.
[Aside.]
Ha! not present!
What fatal bar prevents him? Oh, my heart!
Is Paladore the fountain of thy life,
That thy stream scarce can flow, when sever'd from him?

[They take their places; the Princess on the King's right hand, a little beneath him. Bireno and Ascanio in the front of the stage, some seated, others standing round.
BIRENO.
The danger of our frontiers, you, sage lords,
Calls this assembly; but, as wise physicians,
The heart being touch'd, neglect the extremities,
Giving their first care to the seat of life:
So now, the wounded vitals of our honour,
Demand our prior tendence.

KING.
Speak, good cousin!
Do dark conspiracy, and home-bred treason,
(Unnatural leaguers with a foreign foe)
Bid the sharp sword of vengeance turn its edge
'Gainst our own children?

BIRENO.
Yes; though nature bleeds,
Justice will take her course; I see before me
The prime of the kingdom; and from some among you,
Since they, in whose authority abides
The executive of power, best can tell.
I now wou'd hear, why do our registers
Contain that rigorous ordinance, which respects
The chastity of women?

FIRST SENATOR.
To that question,
The law's preamble answers. 'Tis rehears'd,
That the wild licence of our countrywomen,
O'erleapt all modest bounds. Sweet pudency
(That ruby of the sex) had been cast by
For casual wantonness, till our name abroad
Became a by-word, and confusion, strange,
Disturb'd domestic peace. A spurious issue,
The slips of chance and wildness, were engrafted
In rich inheritances, while the sire
Caress'd the child, not his, and left to fortune,
The true heirs of his fondness: these abuses
Required an iron curb; so pass'd the law,
Making transgression death, with no remittance
To high rank, or degree in the offender,
But in its bloody gripe comprizing all.

BIRENO.
And is this so allow'd?

FIRST SENATOR.
'Tis so allow'd:
Nor is there a decretal, in our rolls,
Of less ambiguous import, or more known.

KING.
This is beyond devining: I have mark'd
[To the Princess, half aside.
His changing feature: some strong passion shakes him.

PRINCESS.
He plays emotion well, most masterly,
Even to the life of feigning.

BIRENO.
May I on?
Or must I, like a novice to your forms,
First prove my right of audience?

KING.
Be not anger'd;
We questioned not your right—All counsellors
Speak what they list with freedom. You, our cousin,
Have with your right, pre-audience.

PRINCESS.
Pray, proceed.

BIRENO
to the SENATOR.
Most learned lord, now please you to recite
The dangerous predicament of those
Who do awake this statute?

FIRST SENATOR.
Willingly.
'Tis there provided, that, the accus'd being cited
In the king's presence, he, who brings the charge,
Shou'd state each circumstance: that done, the herald
Thrice in six hours, first, in the market place,
Next, in the hippodrome, last, in the porch
Of the great temple, must invite all knights
(Whether impell'd by pity, love, or justice)
To appear her champions in the marshal'd lists:
There, if the accuser falls, she is held free,
And her fair fame restor'd; but, if he conquers,
The event confirms her guilt, and the sharp axe
Severs the wanton's life.

BIRENO.
Then in this peril
Stand I at present—Bid your trumpets sound;
And call forth every bold adventurer.
To try what desperate valour may achieve
'Gainst truth, and my keen sword.

KING.
But whither wou'd'st thou?
Suspense and horror sit on every brow;
Like the red comet, thy denouncing eye,
Forebodes disaster.

BIRENO.
Oh, relentless justice!
If these be drops of weakness, let them fall:
'Tis the last tribute of a human sorrow,
And now I am wholly thine.

KING.
Pr'ythee, go on.

BIRENO.
'Twere vain to waste your patience in persuasion;
I would not wantonly play with the fangs
Of such a lion law, whose terrible roar
Must be appeas'd with blood—So rests my truth.
A lover's fondness, last night, prompted me,
Attended by this gentleman.

[Pointing to Ascanio.
ASCANIO.
Curs'd chance!
Oh, would the darkness of the delving mole
Had been my portion; then I had not seen—
What have I said? Nay, do not call on me;
Was it for this I was commanded hither?
I'll close my lips for ever.

FIRST SENATOR.
We have ways
To force a necessary truth—My Lord,
Please you, proceed—The rack shall make him answer.
Have eye upon him—He was your companion.

BIRENO.
He was, he was, when love or destiny
Led me a wanderer, in the palace garden,
To gaze upon the window of the princess.
When, Oh, sad object for a lover's eyes!
The casement open'd, and the full-orb'd moon,
Bright as the radiance of meridian day,
Shew'd me a lusty rival in her arms,
Embracing, and embrac'd—

[All rise from the table.
KING.
Shame! Death! Confusion!
My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

PRINCESS.
Host of heaven!
Does no deep thunder roll, no lightning flash?
Can the tremendous courriers of your wrath,
Sleep o'er this perjury?

BIRENO.
My gage is thrown;
And here I stand to answer with my life,
If I have charg'd her falsely.

ASCANIO.
[Kneeling.]
On my knees,
If ever pity touch'd your noble breast,
I beg you speak no more.

PRINCESS.
[To Ascanio.]
Thou vile confederate
Of his bloody-thirsty malice! Have I liv'd
To hear a wretch suborn'd, his sycophant,
Mock me with intercession? [To Bireno.]
I behold thee,
And scorn so struggles with astonishment,
That my full heart, and intercepted tongue
Almost refuse their active offices,
Till passion's choak'd in silence.

KING.
Powers of mercy!
Am I reserv'd for this? My only child,
The pride, the joy, the treasure of my soul,
My age's cordial, and my life's best prop,
In the sweet spring, and blossom of her youth,
Thus blasted in my sight!— [To Bireno.]
But, Oh, dark fiend!
Whom hell lets loose to spread destruction round thee,
Why does thy vengeance fasten upon me?
Have I deserv'd this from thee? Well thou know'st,
I strove to make her thine; I would have given thee
My crown, and daughter. Thou requit'st my love,
By daggers steep'd in poison to my heart.

BIRENO.
I thank thy kindness, and forgive thy rage;
The father shall have licence—Honor, witness!
Nor malice, nor ambition loos'd my tongue,
To this heart-rending office. Reverend Lords!
Let your unclouded wisdom judge between us.

PRINCESS.
Can I be patient? Most abandon'd ruffian!
Thou scoffer at all ties! with the same breath
That violates a virgin's sanctity,
(Holy and pure beyond thy gross conceiving)
Thus conscious of thy lie, dar'st thou invoke
Honour to witness for thee? Wherefore call
On these to judge between us? See, barbarian!
Amaz'd, and struck with horror, they have heard thee;
Too well, thou know'st, they must pronounce me guilty;
Thy oath must be their law: but there is one,
An unseen judge, an all discerning eye:
Now if thou dar'st look up, poor shivering wretch!
He views the dark recesses of thy soul:
Tremble at him thy judge.

BIRENO.
I were a slave,
Fit for abuses, cou'd I tamely bear
To see the rich reversion of my blood
Seiz'd by a base, and spurious progeny,
An alien Briton, in his sport of lust,
Stamping a brood of illegitimate kings,
To bend our necks to bastard tyranny.

KING.
An alien Briton!

BIRENO.
Bid her answer thee,
Call for her paramour, her Paladore.
Say, why is he not present?

PRINCESS.
Why indeed!
Hast thou not practis'd on his precious life?
And to consummate this day's guilt and horror,
Crown'd perjury with murder?

KING.
Paladore!
Search, find him out; put pinions to your speed,
And bear him to our presence.

BIRENO.
Spare your labour—
Fear will outstrip their haste—The dastard's gone;
He had my challenge for this injury,
And answer'd it by flight.

KING.
Confusion! fled!
Am I then doubly wretched? Must she die?
And die dishonour'd too?

PRINCESS.
[Kneeling.]
All-seeing Heaven!
If e'er thy interposing Providence
Dash'd the audacious councils of the wicked;
If innocence, ensnar'd, may raise its eye,
In humble hope, to thy eternal throne,
Look down, and succour me! I kneel before thee,
Distrest, forlorn, abandon'd to despair,
By all deserted, and my life beset;
The man, my soul adores, traduc'd, and wrong'd:
Yet, Oh, there is a pang surpassing all!
While the envenom'd rancour of this fiend
Casts its contagion on my spotless fame,
And, unrebuk'd, persists to blast my virtue.

BIRENO.
Hear, she avows her love—

PRINCESS.
Yes, glory in it—

KING.
Ha, have a care, rash girl! nor turn my grief
To curses on thy head—Dar'st thou confirm
Thy doubtful infamy?

PRINCESS.
A love so pure,
What bosom might not feel, what tongue not own?
It was a fault to hide the secret from you:
But are such sighs as vestal breasts might heave,
Such spotless vows as angels might record,
Pollution worthy death? These are my crimes;
And if I labour with with a guilt more black,
May the full malice of that villain reach me.

KING.
What can I think? His absence—Yet thy truth,
Thy nature's modesty plead strongly for thee—
Away with doubt—Oh, thou obdurate heart!

BIRENO.
We trifle time—The lists must be prepar'd,
The heralds sound defiance—

PRINCESS.
Hold a moment—
I'll tell thee how to arm thee for the combat:
Steep thy keen sword in poison, that no balm
May heal the wounds it gives, but each be mortal;
Let a staunch blood-hound, with devouring fangs,
And eye-balls fiery red, couch o'er thy helm;
The deadly sable of thy mail besmear'd
With scaffolds, wheels, and engines, virgin's heads
Fresh bleeding from the axe's severing stroke:
Scorn thou the mean device of vulgar knights,
Who fight for what they reverence, truth and honour;
But be profess'd their champion whom thou serv'st,
And write in bloody letters, hell and falshood.

BIRENO.
This passion, lady! ill becomes your state:
Shame is wash'd out by sorrow, not by anger.

KING.
Hence, from my sight, detested parricide!
Assassin! butcher! lest these feeble hands,
Brac'd by my wrongs to more than mortal strength,
Fix on thy throat, and bare thy treacherous heart.

BIRENO.
Old man, I go—Compassion for thy grief,
Forbids me to retort these outrages.
Let frenzy take its course—When next we meet,
Summon thy fortitude; and learn, mean time,
Crowns cannot save the wearer from affliction,
But kings, like meaner men, were born to suffer.

[Exeunt Bireno, Ascanio, Senators.

SCENE VII.

KING, PRINCESS.
KING.
Morality from thee! He braves high heaven,
And well may scorn my anger. Oh, my child!
This little hour, while I can call thee mine,
Close let me strain thee to my bursting heart:
Alas! thy aged father can no more
Than thus to fold thee; pour these scalding tears,
And drench thy tender bosom with his sorrows.

PRINCESS.
By my best hopes of happiness hereafter!
To see that reverend frame thus torn with anguish;
To hear those heart-fetch'd groans, is greater misery,
Than all the horrors of the doom that waits me:
I could put on a Roman constancy,
And go to death like sleep, did no soft sorrow
Hang on the mourning of surviving friends,
And wake a keener pang for their affliction.

SCENE VIII.

To them, LUCIO.
LUCIO.
Forgive the obedience of reluctant duty!
I have the council's order to commit
The Princess to a guard's close custody.

KING.
Thou art my subject, Lucio! and my soldier;
Do thy unhappy master one last service;
Draw forth thy sword, and strike it through my heart.

PRINCESS.
No; let our grief be sacred: if we weep,
Let them not see, and triumph in our tears.
Martyrs have died in voluntary flames,
And heroes rush'd on death inevitable,
By faith inspir'd, or glory. Thou, Sophia!
Sustain'd alone by peace and innocence,
Meet fate as firmly, and transcend their daring.

[Exeunt.