Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TRAITOR, by JAMES SHIRLEY

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TRAITOR, by JAMES SHIRLEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: Didst bid him come
Last Line: There is no stay in proud mortality. [exeunt.
Subject(s): Great Britain - History; English History

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ALEXANDER, Duke of Florence.

LORENZO, his Kinsman and Favourite.
SCIARRHA, Brother to AMIDEA.
PISANO, Lover to ORIANA.
COSMO, his Friend.
FLORIO, SCIARRHA's Brother.
DEPAZZI, a Creature of LORENZO'S.

FREDERICO, Noblemen.
ALONZO,

PETRUCHIO, PISANO'S Servant.
ROGERO, Page to DEPAZZI.
Gentlemen.
Servants.

AMIDEA, SCIARRHA'S Sister.
ORIANA, beloved of PISANO.
MOROSA, her Mother.

Youth.
Lust.
Pleasure.
Death.
Furies.

SCENE—FLORENCE.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.—A Room in PISANO'S House.

Enter PISANO and PETRUCHIO.

PIS. Didst bid him come?
Pet. I did.
Pis. Go back again,
And tell him I am gone abroad.
Pet. He's here
Already, sir.

Enter COSMO.

Pis. Oh, Cosmo!
Cos. Dear Pisano,
That I could let thee nearer into me!
My heart counts this embrace a distance yet;
Let us incorporate.
Pis. I was wooing, Cosmo,
My man, to tell thee I was gone abroad,
Before thou cam'st.
Cos. How's this? your words and looks
Are strange, and teach me to infer I am
Not welcome; that, on riper counsel, you
Do wish my absence.
Pis. What, for telling truth?
He thus should have but made thee fit to see
Thy friend; thou com'st with expectation
To hear me talk sense, dost not?
Cos. Yes.
Pis. La, now!
And to discourse as I was wont, of state,
Our friendship, or of women? no such matter.
Cos. This is more wild than usual; your language
Is not so clear as it was wont; it carries
Not the same even thread; although some words
May knit, the sense is scattered.
Pis. Right, right, Cosmo,
The reason is, I have straggled,
And lost myself, I know not where, in what
Part of the world:—and would not this have shown
As well in him [Points to PET.] to have prepared thee now?
Cos. What humour's this, Pisano? I am yet
To understand.
Pis. To understand? why, Cosmo,
Had I not changed my dialect and method,
What need this tedious apology?
That's it, I would have had thee know before.
Thou canst not understand me, yet thou hast
A name in Florence, for a ripe young man,
Of nimble apprehension, of a wise
And spreading observation; of whom
Already our old men do prophesy
Good, and great things, worthy thy fair dimensions!
Cos. This is an argument above the rest.
Pisano is not well; for being temperate,
He was not wont to flatter and abuse
His friend.
Pis. Beside, there is another reason,
Thou shouldst discover me at heart, through all
These mists; thou art in love, too, and who cannot,
That feels himself the heat, but shrewdly guess
At every symptom of that wanton fever?—
Oh, Cosmo!
Cos. What misfortune can approach
Your happy love in fairest Amidea?
You have been long contracted, and have passed
The tedious hope; Hymen doth only wait
An opportunity to light his torch,
Which will burn glorious at your nuptials:
Let jealous lovers fear, and feel what 'tis
To languish, talk away their blood, and strength,
Question their unkind stars; you have your game
Before you, sir.
Pis. Before me? Where? why dost
Thou mock me, Cosmo? she's not here.
Cos. It is
No pilgrimage to travel to her lip.
Pis. 'Tis not for you.
Cos. How, sir; for me? you've no
Suspicion I can be guilty of
A treason to our friendship. Be so just,
If malice have been busy with my fame,
To let me know—
Pis. You hastily interpret.
Thy pardon, I have only erred, but not
With the least scruple of thy faith and honour
To me. Thou hast a noble soul, and lov'st me
Rather too well; I would thou wert my enemy,
That we had been born in distant climes, and never
Took cement from our sympathies in nature.
Would we had never seen, or known each other!
This may seem strange from him that loves thee, Cosmo,
More precious than his life.
Cos. Love me, and wish
This separation?
Pis. I will give the proof;
So well I love thee, nothing in the world
Thy soul doth heartily affect, but I
Do love it too: does it not trouble thy
Belief? I wear not my own heart about me,
But thine exchanged; thy eyes let in my objects;
Thou hear'st for me, talk'st, kissest, and enjoy'st
All my felicities.
Cos. What means this language?
Pis. But what's all this to thee? Go to Oriana,
And bathe thy lips in rosy dew of kisses;
Renew thy eye, that looks as Saturn hung
Upon the lid; take in some golden beam,
She'll dart a thousand at one glance; and if,
At thy return, thou find'st I have a being
In this vain world, I'll tell thee more. [Exit.
Cos. But, sir, you must not part so.
Pet. Not with my good will;
I have no great ambition to be mad.
Cos. Petruchio, let me conjure thee, tell
What weight hangs on thy master's heart? why does he Appear so full of
trouble?
Pet. Do you not guess?
Cos. Point at the cause; I cannot.
Pet. Why he loves—
Cos. The beauteous Amidea, I know that.
Pet. Some such thing was; but you are his friend, my lord:
His soul is now devoted to Oriana,
And he will die for her, if this ague hold him.
Cos. Ha!
Pet. Your doublet pinch you, sir? I cannot tell,
But ne'er a woman in the world should make
Me hang myself. It may be, for his honour,
He'll choose another death, he is about one;
For 'tis not possible, without some cure,
He should live long; he has forgot to sleep,
And for his diet, he has not eaten this se'nnight
As much as would choke a sparrow; a fly is
An epicure to him.—Good sir, do you counsel him.—
[Exit COSMO.
So, so, it works;
This was my Lord Lorenzo's plot, and I
Have been his engine in the work, to batter
His love to Amidea, by praising
Oriana to him.—He is here.—My lord—

Enter LORENZO attended.

Lor. Petruchio, where's your lord? how moves the work?
Pet. To your own wish, my lord; he has thrown off
The thought of Amidea, and is mad
For Cosmo's mistress, whom, by your instructions,
I have commended so.
Lor. My witty villain!
Pet. Cosmo is with him, to whom cunningly
I have discovered his disease, and I
Beseech you interrupt them not.
Lor. This may
Have tragical effects, Petruchio:
For Cosmo, we shall prune his fortune thus.
Oriana's wealth would swell him in the state;
He grows too fast already.—Be still ours.
Pet. My lord, you bought my life, when you procured
My pardon from the duke. [Exit LORENZO.

Re-enter PISANO and COSMO.

Pis. O, friend, thou canst not be so merciful,
To give away such happiness: my love
Is, for some sin I have committed, thus
Transplanted. I looked rather thou shouldst kill me,
Than give away this comfort; 'tis a charity
Will make thee poor, and 'twere a great deal better
That I should languish still, and die.
Cos. While I have art to help thee? Oriana
And I were but in treaty; howsoever,
I were not worthy to be called his friend,
Whom I preferred not to a mistress. If
You can find dispensation to quit
With Amidea, your first love, be confident
Oriana may be won; and it were necessary

You did prepare the mother; be not modest.
Pis. Each syllable is a blessing.—Hark, Petruchio.
[Whispers him.
Cos. There is an engine levelled at my fate,
And I must arm. [Aside.
Pis. Away! [Exit PETRUCHIO.
Cos. This for thy comfort:
Although some compliments have passed between
Me and Oriana, I am not warm
Yet in the mother's fancy, whose power may
Assist you much; but lose no time: let's follow.
Pis. Thou miracle of friendship! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Enter DUKE, FREDERICO, FLORIO, and ALONZO.

Duke. Letters to us? from whom?
Alon. Castruchio.
Duke. The exile? whence?
Alon. Sienna, my good lord;
It came enclosed within my letter, which
Imposed my care and duty, in the swift
Delivery. [He delivers letters, which the Duke reads.
Fred. The duke is pale o' the sudden.
Duke. A palsey does possess me; ha! Lorenzo?
Our cousin the enemy of our life and state!
My bosom kinsman?—Not too loud; the traitor
May hear, and by escape prevent our justice. [Aside.
Flo. What traitor?
Duke. Signior Alonzo, come you hither;
What correspondence maintain you with this
Castruchio?
Alon. None, my lord; but I am happy
In his election, to bring the first
Voice to your safety.
Duke. Most ingrateful man!
Turn rebel! I have worn him in my blood.
Alon. 'Tis time to purge the humour.

Duke. I will do it.—
Our guard!—Were he more precious, had he shared
Our soul, as he but borrows of our flesh,
This action makes him nothing; had I been
In heaven, I could have leant him my eternity.
He turn conspirator? oh, the fate of princes!
But stay, this paper speaks of no particular;
He does not mention what design, what plot.
Alon. More providence is necessary.
Duke. Right,
Right, good Alonzo; thou'rt an honest man,
And lov'st us well.—What's to be done?
Alon. 'Tis best
To make his person sure; by this you may
Discover soonest who are of his faction.
Duke. And at our leisure study of his punishment,
Which must exceed death; every common trespass
Is so rewarded: first, apply all tortures
To enforce confession, who are his confederates,
And how they meant to murder us; then some rare
Invention to execute the traitor,
So as he may be half a year in dying,
Will make us famed for justice.

Enter LORENZO and DEPAZZI.

Alon. He is here,
Shall we apprehend him?
Lor. Happy morning to
My gracious sovereign!
Duke. Good morrow, coz.—
Can treason couch itself within that frame?— [Aside.
We have letters for you. [Gives LORENZO the letters.
Lor. Letters! these, dread sir,
Have no direction to me, your highness
Is only named.
Duke. They will concern your reading.—
Alonzo, now observe and watch him.—Florio,
Depazzi, come you hither; does Lorenzo
Look like a traitor?
Dep. How, sir? a traitor?
Duke. Ay, sir.
Dep. I, sir? by my honour, not I, sir; I defy him that speaks
it.—I am in a fine pickle. [Aside.
Lor. I have read.
Duke. Not blush? not tremble? read again.
Lor. The substance is, that you maintain
A vigilant eye over Lorenzo, who
Hath threatened, with your death, his country's liberty;
And other things, touching reducing of
A commonwealth.
Duke. I like not that. [Aside.
Dep. All's out!
A pox upon him for a traitor, he
Has hedged me in; but I'll confess. [Aside.
Duke. What answer
Make you to this, Lorenzo?
Lor. This, o' the sudden,
Sir: I must owe the title of a traitor

To your high favours; envy first conspired,
And malice now accuses: but what story
Mentioned his name, that had his prince's bosom
Without the people's hate? 'tis sin enough,
In some men, to be great; the throng of stars,
The rout and common people of the sky,
Move still another way than the sun does,
That gilds the creature: take your honours back,
And if you can, that purple of my veins,
Which flows in your's, and you shall leave me in
A state I shall not fear the great ones' envy,
Nor common people's rage; and yet, perhaps,
You may be credulous against me.
Duke. Ha!
Alon. The duke is cool.
Duke. Alonzo, look you prove
Lorenzo what you say.
Alon. I say, my lord?
I have discovered all my knowledge, sir.
Dep. Stand to 't.
Lor. With license of your highness, what
Can you imagine I should gain by treason?
Admit I should be impious, as to kill you—
I am your nearest kinsman, and should forfeit
Both name and future title to the state,
By such a hasty, bloody disposition;
The rabble hate me now, how shall I then
Expect a safety? Is it reformation
Of Florence they accuse me of? suggesting
I disaffect a monarchy, which how
Vain and ridiculous would appear in me,
Your wisdom judge; in you I live and flourish;
What, in your death, can I expect, to equal
The riches I enjoy under your warmth?
Should I, for the air and talk of a new government,
A commonwealth, lose all my certainties?
And you above them all, whose favours have
Fallen like the dew upon me? have I a soul
To think the guilt of such a murder easy,
Were there no other torments? or can I
Expect the people will reward your murderer
With anything but death? a parricide!
Alon. So, so, the duke's already in his circle. [Aside.
Lor. But I am tame, as if I had no sense,
Nor other argument to vindicate
My loyalty, thus poisoned by a paper,
In my eternal fame, and by a slave?
Call to my brow some one that dare accuse me,
Let him have honour, great as mine, to forfeit,
Or, since your grace hath taken me so near
Your own height, that my scale may not expect
Such a proportioned adversary, yet let him
Have name within his country, and allow him
A soul, 'gainst which I may engage my more
Than equal honour, then I'll praise your justice;
But let him not be one condemned already,
A desperate exile.—Is it possible
A treason hatched in Florence, 'gainst the duke,
Should have no eyes at home to penetrate
The growing danger, but at Siena one
Must with a perspective discover all?
Ask this good counsellor, or these gentlemen,
Whose faiths are tried, whose cares are always waking
About your person, how have I appeared
To them, that thus I should be rendered hateful
To you and my good country? they are virtuous,
And dare not blemish a white faith, accuse
My sound heart of dishonour. Sir, you must
Pardon my bold defence; my virtue bleeds
By your much easiness, and I am compelled
To break all modest limits, and to waken
Your memory (if it be not too late
To say you have one) with the story of
My fair deservings. Who, sir, overthrew
With his designs, your late ambitious brother,
Hippolito, who, like a meteor, threatened
A black and fatal omen?
Duke. 'Twas Lorenzo.
Lor. Be yet as just, and say whose art directed
A countermine to check the pregnant hopes
Of Salviati, who for his cardinal's cap,
In Rome was potent, and here popular?
Duke. None but Lorenzo.
Dep. Admirable traitor! [Aside.
Lor. Whose service was commended when the exiles,
One of whose tribe accuseth me, had raised
Commotions in our Florence? When the hinge
Of state did faint under the burthen, and
The people sweat with their own fears, to think
The soldier should inhabit their calm dwellings,
Who then rose up your safety, and crushed all
Their plots to air?
Duke. Our cousin, dear Lorenzo.
Lor. When he that should reward, forgets the men
That purchased his security, 'tis virtue
To boast a merit. With my services
I have not starved your treasury; the grand
Captain Gonzales accounted to King Ferdinand
Three hundred thousand crowns, for spies; what bills
Have I brought in for such intelligence?
Dep. I do grow hearty. [Aside.
Duke. All thy actions
Stand fresh before us, and confirm thou art
Our best and dearest friend; thus we assure
Our confidence; they love us not that feed
One jealous thought of our dear coz, Lorenzo.
New welcome to us all; for you, Alonzo,
Give o'er your paper kites, learn wit, 'tis time.—
[Walks aside with LORENZO.
Where shall we meet to-night?
Lor. Pardon me, sir;
I am a dangerous man.
Duke. No more of that;
I'll credit my soul with thee.—Shall we revel
This night with Amidea?
Dep. The duke courts him.
Well, go thy ways, for one of the most excellent,
Impudent traitors— [Aside.
Duke. Yet a murmuring
Of traitor? we shall soon suspect him
That thinks Lorenzo guilty.
Dep. I, my lord,
Dare boldly swear, his honour is as free
From any treason, as myself;—
I did prophesy this issue. [Aside.
Duke. 'Tis an age
Till night; I long to fold her in my arms.
Prepare Sciarrha, but be very wise
In the discovery; he is all touchwood.
Lor. I know he is her brother; leave the managing
Of things to me.
Duke. Still when we expect
Our bliss, time creeps; but when the happier things
Call to enjoy, each saucy hour hath wings. [Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.—A Room in SCIARRHA'S House.

Enter SCIARRHA and LORENZO.

SCI. My sister! Though he be the duke, he dares not.—
Patience, patience! if there be such a virtue,
I want it, Heaven; yet keep it a little longer,
It were a sin to have it; such an injury
Deserves a wrath next to your own.—My sister!
It has thrown wild-fire in my brain, Lorenzo,
A thousand Furies revel in my skull.
Has he not sins enough in's court to damn him,
But my roof must be guilty of new lusts,
And none but Amidea? these the honours
His presence brings our house!
Lor. Temper your rage.
Sci. Are all the brothels rifled? no quaint piece
Left him in Florence, that will meet his hot
And valiant luxury, that we are come to
Supply his blood out of our families?
Diseases gnaw his title off!
Lor. My lord—
Sci. He is no prince of mine; he forfeited
His greatness that black minute he first gave
Consent to my dishonour.
Lor. Then I'm sorry—
Sci. Why should you be sorry, sir?
You say it is my sister he would strumpet,
Mine! Amidea! 'tis a wound you feel not;
But it strikes through and through the poor Sciarrha.
I do not think but all the ashes of
My ancestors do swell in their dark urns,
At this report of Amidea's shame:
It is their cause, as well as mine; and should
Heaven suffer the duke's sin to pass unpunished,
Their dust must of necessity conspire
To make an earthquake in the temple.
Lor. Sir,
You said you would hear me out.
Sci. Why, is there more
Behind?
Lor. And greater: master your high blood
Till I conclude, Sciarrha. I accuse not
Your noble anger, which, I have observed,
Is not on every cheap and giddy motion
Inflamed; but, sir, be thrifty in your passion,
This is a petty trespass.
Sci. Has mischief any name
Beyond this? will it kill me with the sound?
Lor. My lord, though the dishonouring your sister
Be such a fact, the blood of any other
But Alexander could no less than expiate,
Yet this sin stretches farther, and involves,
With her's, your greater stain. Did you e'er promise him?—
Yet, why do I make any question?
It were another crime to think Sciarrha
Could entertain a thought so far beneath
His birth.—You stoop to such a horrid baseness!
Then all the virtue of mankind would sicken,
And soon take leave of earth.
Sci. You torture me.
Lor. What then could the duke find, to give him any
Encouragement, you would be guilty of
An act so fatal unto honour? What,
When you were least yourself (as we are all
Frail compositions), did appear so wicked
In you, he should conceive a hope, and flatter
Himself with possibility to corrupt
Your soul to a deed so monstrous?
Sci. To what?
Lor. Though all the teeming glories of his dukedom,
Nay, Florence' state, offered itself a bribe,
And tempted the betraying of your name
To infamy, yet to imagine you

Would turn officious pander to his lust,
And interpose the mercenary bawd
To court your sister to his sinful coupling!
'Tis horrid, affrights nature; I grow stiff
With the imagination.
Sci. Ha!
Lor. Yet this
Was his command I should impose.
Sci. Lorenzo,
I do want breath; my voice is ravished from me;
I am not what I was; or—if I be
Sciarrha thou hast talked to all this while,
Look heedfully about me, and thou may'st
Discover, through some cranny of my flesh,
A fire within; my soul is but one flame,
Extended to all parts of this frail building.
I shall turn ashes, I begin to shrink;—
Is not already my complexion altered?
Does not my face look parched, and my skin gather
Into a heap? my breath is hot enough
To thaw the Alps.
Lor. Your fancy would transport you.
Sci. It is my rage; but let it cool, Lorenzo;
And then we'll talk of something, something, sir,
Shall be to purpose.
Lor. Now the flame is mounted,
My lord, I have given proof, although he be
My duke, and kinsman, I abhor his vices,
Howe'er the world, without examination,
Shoot their malicious noise, and stain my actions:
'Tis policy in princes to create
A favourite, who must bear all the guilt
Of things ill managed in the state; if any
Design be happy, 'tis the prince's own.
Heaven knows, how I have counselled this young man,
By virtue to prevent his fate; and govern
With modesty: O the religious days
Of commonwealths! we have outlived that blessing.
Sci. But I have thought a cure for this great state
Imposthume.
Lor. What?
Sci. To lance it; is't not ripe?
Let us draw cuts, whether your hand or mine
Shall do an act for Florence' liberty,
And send this tyrant to another world.
Lor. How! I draw cuts?
Sci. Coy it not thus, Lorenzo,
But answer: by your name and birth, you are
His kinsman, we all know it; that you dwell
In's bosom, great in favour as in blood,
We know that too; and let me tell you more,

We know you but disguise your heart, and wish
Florence would change her title.
Lor. How is this?
Sci. We know you have firm correspondence with
The banished men, whose desperate fortunes wait
Your call to tumult in our streets; all this,
Not to feed your ambition with a dukedom,
By the remove of Alexander, but
To serve your country, and create their peace
Who groan under the tyranny of a proud,
Lascivious monarch.—Is't not true, Lorenzo?
My phrase is blunt, my lord.
Lor. My genius
And thine are friends; I see they have conversed,
And I applaud the wisdom of my stars,
That made me for his friendship who preserves
The same religious fire. I will confess,
When Alexander left his piety
To Florence, I placed him beneath my country,
As we should all; but we have lost our souls,
Or changed our active spirits, for a dull
And lazy sufferance; let this secret be
An argument, how much I dare repose
Upon Sciarrha's honour; virtue witness,
I choose no other destiny: command
Lorenzo's fate, dissolve me with your breath;
I'll either live, in your exchange of faith,
A patriot, or die my country's martyr.
Sci. Thou hast a fire beyond Prometheus',
To quicken earth; thy flame is but a prophecy
Of that high pyramid the world shall build
To thy immortal name: it was the glory
Of Romans to prefer their empire's safety
To their own lives; they were but men like us,
And of the same ingredients, our souls
Create of no inferior substance; ha?—
Lor. Heaven knows, I've no particular design
To leap into a throne; I will disclaim
The privilege of blood; let me advance
Our liberty, restore the ancient laws
Of the republic, rescue from the jaws
Of lust your mothers, wives, your daughters, sisters—
Sci. Sisters!
Lor. From horrid rape—'las, Amidea!
Sci. I am resolved; by all that's blest, he dies.
Return my willingness to be his pander,
My sister's readiness to meet his dalliance;
His promises have bought our shame:—he dies;
The roof he would dishonour with his lust
Shall be his tomb;—bid him be confident;
Conduct him, good Lorenzo, I'll dispose
My house for this great scene of death.
Lor. Be constant. [Exit.

Enter FLORIO and AMIDEA.

Flo. Now, brother, what news brings the great Lorenzo?
Sci. Let me have truce, vexation, for some minutes.—
[Aside.
What news? preferments, honours, offices.—
Sister, you must to court.
Ami. Who, I to court?
Sci. Or else the court will come to you. The duke
Hath sent already for us, Amidea:
O that I knew what happy stars did govern
At thy nativity! It were no sin
To adore their influence.
Ami. What means my brother?
Flo. He is transported.
Ami. I shall suspect your health.
Sci. I easily could forget I am Sciarrha,
And fall in love myself.—Is she not fair,
Exceeding beautiful, and tempting, Florio?
Look on her well, methinks I could turn poet,
And make her a more excellent piece than Heaven.
Let not fond men hereafter commend what
They most admire, by fetching from the stars,
Or flowers, their glory of similitude,
But from thyself the rule to know all beauty;
And he that shall arrive at so much boldness,
To say his mistress' eyes, or voice, or breath,
Are half so bright, so clear, so sweet as thine,
Hath told the world enough of miracle.
These are the duke's own raptures, Amidea;
His own poetic flames; an argument
He loves my sister.
Ami. Love me?
Sci. Infinitely.
I am in earnest; he employed Lorenzo,
No meaner person, in this embassy;
You must to court. Oh happiness!
Ami. For what?
Sci. What do great ladies do at court, I pray?
Enjoy the pleasures of the world, dance, kiss
The amorous lords, and change court breath; sing; lose
Belief of other Heaven; tell wanton dreams,
Rehearse their sprightly bed-scenes, and boast, which
Hath most idolaters; accuse all faces
That trust to the simplicity of nature,
Talk witty blasphemy,
Discourse their gaudy wardrobes, plot new pride,
Jest upon courtiers' legs, laugh at the wagging
Of their own feathers, and a thousand more

Delights, which private ladies never think of.
But above all, and wherein thou shalt make
All other beauties envy thee, the duke,
The duke himself shall call thee his, and single
From the fair troop thy person forth, to exchange
Embraces with, lay siege to these soft lips,
And not remove, till he hath sucked thy heart,
Which soon dissolved with thy sweet breath, shall be
Made part of his, at the same instant he
Conveying a new soul into thy breast
With a creating kiss.
Ami. You make me wonder;
Pray speak, that I may understand.
Sci. Why will you
Appear so ignorant? I speak the dialect
Of Florence to you. Come, I find you're cunning;
The news does please, the rolling of your eye
Betrays you, and I see a guilty blush
Through this white veil, upon your cheek; you would
Have it confirmed; you shall; the duke himself
Shall swear he loves you.
Ami. Love me! why?
Sci. To court,
And ask him; be not you too peevish now,
And hinder all our fortune: I have promised him,
To move you for his armful, as I am
Sciarrha, and your brother; more, I have sent
Word to him by Lorenzo, that you should
Meet his high flame; in plain Italian,
Love him, and—
Ami. What, for Heaven! be the duke's whore?
Sci. No, no, his mistress; command him, make us.
Ami. Give up my virgin honour to his lust?
Sci. You may give it a better name; but do it.
Ami. I do mistake you, brother, do I not?
Sci. No, no, my meaning is so broad, you cannot.
Ami. I would I did then. Is't not possible
That this should be a dream? where did you drop
Your virtue, sir?—Florio, why move you not?
Why are you slow to tell this man,—for sure
'Tis not Sciarrha,—he hath talked so ill,
And so much, that we may have cause to fear,
The air about's infected?
Flo. Are not you
My brother?
Sci. Be not you a fool, to move
These empty questions, but join to make her
Supple and pliant for the duke. I hope
We are not the first have been advanced by a wagtail:
No matter for the talk of musty people,
Look up to the reward; thou art young, and skilled
In these court temptings, naturally soft,
And moving, I am rough-hewn; assist, wilt,
With some quaint charm, to win her to this game?
Flo. My sister?
Sci. Ay, ay.
Ami. Come not near him, Florio,
'Tis not Sciarrha; sure, my brother's nurse
Played the imposter, and with some base issue
Cheated our house.
Sci. Gipsy, use better language,
Or I'll forget your sex.
Flo. Offer to touch her
With any rudeness, and by all that's virtuous—
Sci. Why, how now, boy?
Flo. I do not fear your sword, [Draws.
This, with my youth and innocence, is more
Defence than all thy armoury; what devil
Has crept into thy soul?
Sci. You will not help?
Flo. I'll never kill thee.
Sci. 'Tis very well.
Have you considered better o' the motion?
Ami. Yes.
Sci. And what is your resolve?
Ami. To have my name
Stand in the ivory register of virgins
When I am dead. Before one factious thought
Should lurk within me to betray my fame
To such a blot, my hands shall mutiny,
And boldly with a poniard teach my heart
To weep out a repentance.
Sci. Let me kiss thee,
My excellent, chaste sister.—Florio,
Thou hast my soul; I did but try your virtues.—
'Tis truth, the duke does love thee, viciously,
Let him, let him! he comes to be our guest;

This night he means to revel at our house,—
The Tarquin shall be entertained; he shall.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. My lord, Pisano is come. [Exit.
Sci. I had forgot his promise.—Look up, sister,
And shine with thy own smiles; Pisano's come,
Pisano, thy contracted, honoured friend;
A gentleman so rich in hopes, we shall
Be happy in's alliance.—

Enter PISANO, COSMO, and FREDERICO.

Welcome all,
But you above the rest, my brother shortly.—
Sister, and Florio, entertain your noble
Friends; some few minutes I am absent. We
Must not forget t' prepare for the duke's coming;
I'll soon return. [Exit.
Ami. You are not cheerful, sir;
How is't, my lord? you were not wont to look
So sad when you came hither.
Pis. I am not well, Amidea.
Ami. Oh my heart!
Pis. Be you
Comforted, lady; let all griefs repair
To this, their proper centre. [Lays his hand on his breast.
Flo. Sir, how fare you?
Pis. Altered of late a little.
Fred. Virtuous lady,
I cannot choose but pity her, and accuse
Pisano's levity. [Aside.
Pis. Would he were come back!
I might have finished ere he went, and not
Delayed his business much; two or three words,
And I had dispatched.
Ami. How, sir? your language is
Another than you used to speak; you look not
With the same brow upon me.
Cos. 'Las! sweet lady.—
But who shall accuse me? [Aside.
Pis. We shall expect too long.—Lady, I am come
To render all my interest in your love,
And to demand myself again; live happier
In other choice, fair Amidea, 'tis
Some shame to say my heart's revolted.
Ami. Ha!
Pis. Here's witness, all is cancelled betwixt us;
Nay, an you weep—Farewell!
Ami. He's gone!
Flo. I am amazed.
Pis. Now lead me to my blessing.
[Exeunt PISANO, COSMO, and FREDERICO.
Flo. Shall a long suit and speeding in his love,
With the world's notice, and a general fame
Of contract too, just in the instant, when
A marriage is expected, be broke off
With infamy to our house?
Ami. Brother, if ever

You loved poor Amidea, let not this
Arrive Sciarrha's ear, there's danger in
His knowledge of it; this may be a trial
Of my affection.
Flo. A trial! no, it showed
Too like a truth.
Ami. My tears entreat your silence.
Flo. You have power to command it; dry your eyes then,
He is returned.

Re-enter SCIARRHA.

Sci. How now!
Weeping? Where is Pisano, and his friends?
Flo. They're gone, sir.
Sci. Ha!
Ami. Guess by my eyes you may,
Something of sorrow hath befallen; no sooner
You were departed, but some strange distemper
Invaded him; we might discern a change
In's countenance, and though we prayed him to
Repose with us, he would straight back again;
So, with Frederico,
And Signior Cosmo, he returned.
Flo. The alteration was strange and sudden.
Sci. 'Las! noble gentleman—but come, clear up
Your face again, we hope it will not last:
Look bright again, I say, I have given order—

Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. My lord, the duke's already come. [Exit.
Sci. Remove,
Good Amidea, and reserve thy person
To crown his entertainment; be not seen yet.
[Exit AMIDEA.

Enter DUKE, LORENZO, ALONZO, and Attendants.

Duke. Sciarrha, we are come to be your guest.
Sci. Your highness doth an honour to our house.
Duke. But where's thy sister? she must bid us welcome.

Sci. She is your grace's handmaid.
Duke. For this night,
Let the whole world conspire to our delight.—
Lorenzo— [Whispers him.
Lor. Sir, be confident———and perish. [Aside.

SCENE II.—The Garden of MOROSA'S House.

Enter MOROSA, ORIANA, and Servant.

Mor. You should not rashly give away your heart,
Nor must you, without me, dispose yourself.—
Pray give access to none—yet, if Pisano
Enquire, direct him to the garden.— [Exit Servant.
Cosmo
Is young, and promising, but, while Lorenzo
Lives, must expect no sunshine.

Re-enter Servant with PISANO and COSMO.

Pis. There's for thy pains.— [Exit Servant.
They are now at opportunity.
Cos. My lord,
Do you prepare the mother, and let me close
With Oriana.
Pis. What service can reward thee?
Cos. Take occasion
To leave us private; this hour be propitious!
Win but the matron to you.
Pis. She is prepared already.
Cos. Lose no time,
Take the other walk. [Exeunt PISANO and MOROSA.
Ori. My dear Cosmo.
Cos. My best Oriana.
Ori. You have been too much absent, I must chide you.
Cos. You cannot, sweet; I would I knew which way
To make thee angry; yes, that I might see
How well it would become thee. I do fear
Thou art some angel, and that sin would be
An argument to me, that thou wert mortal;

I must suspect thy too much goodness else,
And leave thee for the fellowship of saints,
I am too wicked.
Ori. You will make me angry.
Cos. But you will love me still, I fear.
Ori. Do you fear it?
Is't a misfortune?
Cos. What?
Ori. My love.
Cos. Your anger;
And yet the t'other oftentimes may carry
An evil with it; we may love too well,
And that's a fault.
Ori. Not where the object's good.
Cos. O yes: always beware of the extremes.
Ori. What mean you? I affect none but my Cosmo,
Nor him with too much flame.
Cos. If you should, lady,
'Twere nobly done.
Ori. to love another?
Cos. Yes,
If there be cause, that may be called a virtue:
For what have I to engross the affection
Of any lady, if she can discern
A greater merit in some other man?
Wisdom forbid, but she command her smiles,
To warm and cherish him.
Ori. So we should be
Inconstant.
Cos. Why not? if our reason be
Convinced that's no such fault, as the world goes.
Let us examine all the creatures, read
The book of nature through, and we shall find
Nothing doth still the same; the stars do wander,
And have their divers influence, the elements
Shuffle into innumerable changes:
Our constitutions vary; herbs and trees
Admit their frost and summer; and why then
Should our desires, that are so nimble, and
More subtle than the spirits in our blood,
Be such stayed things within us, and not share
Their natural liberty? Shall we admit a change
In smaller things, and not allow it in
What most of all concerns us?
Ori. What?
Cos. Our loves.
Ori. Have you suspicion I am changed, and thus
Would school me for it? or shall I imagine
That you are altered?
Cos. Yes, I am, and therefore
Proclaim thy freedom; I do love thee less,
To show I love thee more.
Ori. What riddle's this?
Cos. I will explain. Upon maturity
Of counsel, Oriana, I have found
I am not worthy of thee, therefore come
To make thee satisfaction for my sin
Of loving thee, by pointing out a way,
And person, will become thy affection better.
Ori. You have a pretty humour.
Cos. What dost think
Of brave Pisano? Shall his merit plead
Succession in thy chaste thoughts?
Ori. I do know him.
Cos. Thou canst not choose, and I could study none
Worthy thy love but him.
Ori. 'Tis very likely
You would resign then?
Cos. Ay, to honour thee;
His service will deserve thee at the best
And richest value.
Ori. Why, it shall be so.
Cos. Nay, but be serious, and declare me happy,
That I may say, I have made thee just amends,
And I will thank thee.
Ori. Why, sir, I do love him.
Cos. Oh, when did Cupid aim that golden shaft?
But dost thou love him perfectly, with a
Desire, when sacred rites of marriage
Are past, to meet him in thy bed, and call him
Thy husband?
Ori. Why, sir, did you ever think
I was so taken with your worth and person,
I could not love another lord as well?
By your favour, there be many as proper men,
And as deserving; you may save your plea,
And be assured I need no lesson to
Direct my fancy. I did love Pisano
Before, but for your sake, I mean to place him
A great deal nearer.—Sure he does but jest. [Aside.
You did love me.
Cos. Now, by my heart, I love thee.
This act shall crown our story, Oriana,
Thou dost not know how much thou honourest me,
For he's not in the common list of friends,
And he does love thee past imagination.
Next his religion he has placed the thought
Of Oriana, he sleeps nothing else,
And I shall wake him into Heaven, to say
Thou hast consented to be his.
Ori. Pray tell me,
But truly, I beseech you; do you wish
Pisano mine indeed? or are you jealous,
And name him to accuse me?
Cos. Not, by goodness;
But if there be a charm beyond thy innocence,
By that I would conjure thee, Oriana,
Love him, and make three happy; it shall be
My bliss to call you his, let me but own
A servant in your memory.
Ori. Unkind
And cruel Cosmo! dost thou think it possible
I can love any but thyself? thou wilt
Undo my heart for ever.

Re-enter PISANO and MOROSA.

Mor. You shall be
Ever most welcome; If I be her mother,
She must declare obedience.—Oriana—
Cos. Go cheerfully, thy mother calls, to him
Whose orator I have been.—'Las, poor lady!
I half repent me, since she is so constant:
But a friend's life weighs down all other love;
Beside I thus secure my fate; Lorenzo
Threatens my spring, he is my enemy. [Aside.
Ori. You'll not compel affection?
Pis. No, but court it;
With honour, and religion, thus invite it.
Mor. I shall forget the nature of a parent,
Unless you show more softness, and regard
To what is urged. What promise could you make
To Cosmo without me? or, if you had—
Cos. Here Cosmo doth give up all title to it;
I have no part in Oriana now.
Ori. I've heard too much; do with me what you please,
I am all passive, nothing of myself,
But an obedience to unhappiness. [Exit.
Cos. Follow her, Pisano.
Pis. Thou art all friendship.
Cos. Trace their warm steps, virgins' resolves are weak.
Leave not her eyes until you see day break. [Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.—A Room in DEPAZZI'S House.

Enter DEPAZZI and ROGERO.

DEP. Rogero!
Rog. My lord.
Dep. Make fast the chamber door, stifle the keyhole and the crannies,
I must discourse of secret matters; dost thou smell nothing, Rogero? ha?
Rog. Smell? not any thing, my lord, to offend my nostril.
Dep. Come hither; what do the people talk abroad of me?
Answer me justly, and to the point; what do they say?
Rog. Faith, my lord, they say that you are—
Dep. They lie, I am not; they are a lousy, impudent multitude, a
many-headed, and many-horned generation, to say that I am—
Rog. A noble gentleman, a just and discreet lord, and one that
deserved to have his honours without money.
Dep. Oh, is that it? I thought the rabble would have said, I
had been a traitor.—I am half mad, certainly, ever since I
consented to Lorenzo; 'tis a very hard condition, that a man
must lose his head to recompense the procuring of his
honours: what if I discover him to the duke?—ten to one, if Lorenzo come b
ut to speak, his grace will not have the grace to believe me, and then I run
the hazard to be thrown out of all on t'other side: 'tis safest to be a
traitor. [Aside.]—Hum, who is that you whispered to?
Rog. I whisper?
Dep. Marry did you, sirrah.
Rog. Not I, good faith, my lord.
Dep. Sirrah, sirrah, sirrah, I smell a rat behind the
hangings. [Takes up the hangings.]—Here's nobody; ha? are there no tru
nks to convey secret voices?
Rog. Your lordship has a pair on.
Dep. I do not like that face in the arras; on my conscience he points
at me. 'Pox upon this treason, I have no stomach to't; I do see myself upon a
scaffold, making a pitiful speech already; I shall have my head cut off.
Seven years ago I laid my head upon a wager, I remember, and lost it;
let me see,—it shall be so, 'tis good policy to be armed.
[Aside.]—Rogero, imagine I were a traitor.
Rog. How, sir?
Dep. I but say "imagine;" we may put the case; and
that I were apprehended for a traitor.
Rog. Heaven defend!
Dep. Heaven has something else to do, than to
defend traitors. I say, imagine I were brought to the bar.
Rog. Good, my lord! you brought to the bar?
Dep. I will beat you, if you will not
imagine, at my bidding: I say, suppose I now
were at the bar, to answer for my life.
Rog. Well, sir.
Dep. Well, sir? that's as it
happens; you must imagine I will
answer the best I can for
myself. Conceive, I
prithee, that these chairs were judges, most grave and venerable beards and fac
es, at my arraignment, and that thyself wert, in the name of the duke and
state, to accuse me, what couldst thou say to me?
Rog. I accuse your good honour? for what, I beseech you?
Dep. For high treason, you blockhead.
Rog. I must be acquainted with some particulars first.
Dep. Mass, thou sayest right: why imagine,—do you hear? you must
but imagine,—that some great man had a conspiracy against the duke's
person, and that I, being an honest lord, and one of this great man's
friends, had been drawn in, for that's the plain truth on't; 'twas
against my will, but that's all one. Well, thou understand'st me;
show thy wit, Rogero, scratch thy nimble pericranium, and thunder out my accusa
tion ex tempore. Here I stand, Signior Depazzi, ready to answer the
indictment.
Rog. Good, my lord, it will not become me, being your humble servant.
Dep. Humble coxcomb! is it not for my good? I say, accuse me, bring
it home, jerk me soundly to the quick, Rogero, tickle me, as thou lov'st thy lo
rd; I do defy thee, spare me not, and the devil take thee if thou be'st not
malicious.
Rog. Why then have at you. First, Signior, Depazzi, thou art
indicted of high treason, hold up thy hand; guilty, or not guilty?
Dep. Very good.
Rog. Nay, very bad, sir:—answer, I say; guilty or not guilty?
Dep. Not guilty.
Rog. 'Tis your best course to say so:—well, imagine I rise up
the duke's most learned in the laws, and his nimble-tongued orator; have at you
signior.
Dep. Come, come on, sir, here I stand.
Rog. I will prove thou liest in thy throat, if thou deniest thy
treason, and so I address myself to the most understanding seats of
justice.—"Most wise, most honourable, and most incorrupt
judges, sleep not, I beseech you; my place hath called me to
plead, in the behalf of my prince and country, against this
notable, this pernicious, and impudent traitor, who hath
plotted and contrived such high, heinous, and horrible
treasons, as no age nor history hath ever mentioned
the like. Here he stands, whose birth I will not
touch, because it is altogether unknown who
begot him. He was brought up among the
small wares in the city, became rich
by sinister and indirect practices,
married a merchant's wife at
adventures, and was soon after advanced to be a head-officer."
Dep. Why, you rascal!
Rog. Peace, sirrah, peace!—"Nay, your lordships shall find him ve
ry audacious: this fellow, not content to have his branches spread within the
city, I speak it to his face, let him deny it, was afterward, by the
corruption of his confederate, and the mere grace of his highness,
raised to honour, received infinite favours from his prince of
blessed memory, yet, like a wretch, a villain, a viper, a rat
of Nilus, he hath practised treasons against the sacred
person of the duke, for which he deserveth not only to
die, but also to suffer tortures, whips, racks,
strapadoes, wheels, and all the fiery brazen
bulls that can be invented, as I shall make
it appear to this honourable and illustrious court."
Dep. This rogue's transported.
Rog. With all my heart; "I obey
your lordships:—thus then I pass
from these circumstances, and proceed to the principal villainies that we have
to lay to his charge. Imprimis, thou, Signior Depazzi, didst offer to a
groom one hundred crowns to poison his highness' hunting-saddle."
Dep. Did I?
Rog. Do not interrupt me, varlet; I will prove it;—"his
hunting saddle, and woe shall be unto thy breech therefore; and
finding this serpentine treason broken in the shell,—do
but lend your reverend ears to his next designs—I will
cut them off presently,—this irreligious, nay,
atheistical traitor, did with his own hands poison
the duke's prayer-book; oh, impiety! and had his
highness, as in former times he accustomed, but
prayed once in a month, which, by special
grace, he omitted, how fatal had it been
to Florence! but as by justice his
excellence did then, and by his
own want of devotion, prevent
this assassinate's purpose,
so we hope, in his own
discretion, and the
counsel of his
state, he will take heed how he prays hereafter while he lives, to which every
true subject will say, Amen."
Dep. "May it please your honours—"
Rog. Thou impudent, brazen-faced traitor, wilt thou deny it?
"Moreover, an't like your good lordships, he hath for this fortnight
or three weeks before his apprehension, walked up and down the court with a cas
e of pistols charged, wherewith, as he partly confessed, he intended to send
the duke to Heaven with a powder!"
Dep. This rogue will undo the devil at invention.—"May it
please this honourable—"
Rog. "These are but sprinklings of his treason."
Dep. Will you justify this? did I any of these things, you tadpole?
Rog. Hold yourself contented, my lord; he that is brought to the bar in
case of treason, must look to have more objected than he can answer, or any
man is able to justify.
Dep. "I confess, an't please your good lordships—"
Rog. "Mark, he will confess—"
Dep. That's the way to be sent of a headless errand:—"Indeed
I confess that I never intended any treason to his highness, nor ever
sought the prince's life; true it is, that I heard of a conspiracy."
Rog. "That, that, my lords, hath overthrown him; he saith he never sou
ght the prince's life, ergo, he sought his death; besides, he hath heard
of treason; now, he that heareth and discovereth not, is equally guilty in
fact: for in offences of this nature there are no accessories, ergo,
he is a principal, and being a principal traitor, he deserveth condemnation."
Dep. Shall I not speak?
Rog. No, traitors must not be suffered to speak, for when they have
leave, they have liberty, and he that is a traitor deserveth to be close
prisoner.
Dep. "All that this fellow hath uttered is false and forged,
abominable lies."
Rog. I will speak truth, and I will be heard, and no man
else, in this place.
Dep. "I never dreamt of a hunting-saddle, nor never had
so much as a thought of any prayer-book."
Rog. "You sit here to do justice; I speak for the duke, and the safety
of the commonwealth."
Dep. "As for pistols, 'tis well known I could never endure the report
of them. I defy powder and shot as I do him that accuseth me."
Rog. "I defy all the world that will hear a traitor speak for
himself; 'tis against the law, which provides that no man shall defend treason,
and he that speaks for himself, being a traitor, doth defend his treason:
thou art a capital obstreperous malefactor."
Dep. Thou art a madman.
Rog. Go to, you have played the fool too much.
Dep. Thou continual motion cease; a pox upon thee, hold thy tongue.
Rog. The pox will not serve your turn.
Dep. Why then this shall. [Beats him.
Rog. Hold, hold, good my lord, I am sensible; I have done, imagine I
have done; I but obeyed your lordship, whose batoon I find stronger than my ima
gination.—My lord, you will answer this, to strike in the court thus?
Dep. I am as weary—hark, Rogero, [Knocking within.]—one
knocks; see, see; there's to make thee amends; [Gives him
money.]—see, good Rogero, and say nothing. [Exit ROGERO.]—Pray
Heaven it be no pursuivant.

Re-enter ROGERO with PETRUCHIO bearing a letter.

Rog. Petruchio, my Lord Pisano's secretary.
Dep. But Lorenzo's engine a very knave. [Aside.
Pet. My very good lord. [Gives him the letter.
Dep. What's here? it can be no goodness. [Reads aside.]—"My
lord, I would not have you go to bed to-night,"—he will not let me
sleep now, I dreamt as much;—"something will be done to give
Florence liberty. In the depth of night you may cunningly
disperse some rumours in the city, that the duke is dead; the people must be di
stracted; in the common fright be not you wanting in your person to assist
their fears, and speak well of—Lorenzo.—" Speak well of the
devil.—My humble service to your lord, and say he has power to
command me in all things.
Pet. My very good lord.
Dep. No matter, an you were both hanged.
[Aside.]—Rogero, show him the wine
cellar. [Exeunt ROGERO and
PETRUCHIO.]—Let me see, I
must report the duke's death;
I cannot abide this word
"death;" yet he desires
me but to report it:
hum, if it be false, why so much the better; there will be the less harm in it;
if it should prove true, they will believe me another time: well, I will
drink myself half drunk, and be fortified. [Exit.

SCENE II.—A Room in SCIARRHA'S House.

Preparations for a Masque.

Enter DUKE, AMIDEA, LORENZO, SCIARRHA, FLORIO, and Attendants.

Duke. Sciarrha, you exceed in entertainment;
Banquet our eyes too?
Lor. He will feast all senses.
Sci. Only a toy, my lord; I cannot call't
A masque, nor worthy of this presence, yet
It speaks the freedom of my heart, and gratitude
For this great honour.
Duke. Amidea must
Sit near us.
Sci. Lords, your places; 'twill not be
Worth half this ceremony.—Let them begin.

Enter Lust, richly apparelled, the Pleasures attending.

Duke. Who's the presenter?
Sci. Lust, sir; pray observe.
Lust. Now let Lust possess the throne
Of Love, and rule in hearts alone:
You sweet tempters to my sin,
Beauty, smiles, and kisses win
Upon frail mortals, let them know
There is no happiness, but you.
Shoot no arrows tipped with lead,
Each shaft have his golden head.
Call no love, delude men still,
Through the flesh their spirits kill,
Nor spend all your heart to take
Common persons; greatness make,
By your potent charms, to be
Subjects unto hell and me:
Inflame but kings with loose desire,
You soon set all the world on fire.

Enter a Young Man richly habited, and crowned.

Duke. What's he?
Sci. A wild young man, that follows Lust;
He has too much blood it seems.
Duke. Why looks he back?
Sci. There is a thing called Death, that follows him;
With a large train of Furies; but the Syrens
Of Lust make him secure, and now the hag
Embraces him, and circles him with pleasures;
The harpies mean to dance too.—[Here Lust, the Pleasures,
and the Young Man join in a Dance.]—Hang his conscience!
It whines too much.
Lor. This is too plain.
Sci. He does not tremble yet.—
By-and-by, sir, you shall see all his tormentors
Join with them; there's the sport on't.
Lor. Methinks they
Should have been first, for th' antimasque.
Sci. Oh no!
In hell they do not stand upon the method,
As we at court; the grand masque and the glory
Begin the revels.—

Enter Death.

Sister, you do ill
To keep the duke in talk; he cannot see
The devil for you, and the whips: does not
That death's head look most temptingly? the worms
Have kissed the lips off.—

Enter Furies, who join in the dance, and in the end carry
the Young Man away. The rest flee in confusion.

How does your highness like this dance?
Duke. My eyes so feasted here, I did not mark it,
But I presume 'twas handsome.
Sci. O the lethargy
Of princes!—We have kept you, sir, from bed.—
More lights.
Duke. Good night to all; to you the best:—
Sciarrha, bind us ever by performance.
Sci. We are all your's.
Duke. And Florence thine.—Once more—
Brightest of ladies.
Lor. You are firm? [Aside to SCIARRHA.
Sci. Suspect not. [Exeunt all but AMIDEA and FLORIO.
Flo. I do not like my brother's moral masque;
The duke himself was personated: I
Wonder it did not startle him.
Ami. I hope
Sciarrha does not mean so ill as that
Did promise. He's returned; his looks are full

Re-enter SCIARRHA.

Of threat'ning.
Sci. Amidea, go not to bed;
And yet no matter; I can do't alone.
Take both your rest, and in your prayers commend
The duke to Heaven, 'tis charity; he has made
His will already, and bequeathed his body
To you, sister; pity his soul, for 'tis now
Within few minutes of departing.
Ami. How?
Sci. Why, this way; [Showing a poniard.]—I must
help him in his groans,
To bring his flesh a-bed.
Ami. You will not kill him?
Sci. I am not of your mind.
Ami. I know you cannot.
Sci. You are not studied so perfect in
His destiny, I hope; I will endeavour—
Ami. To kill your prince?
Flo. What, here?
Sci. No, in his chamber.
Ami. Shall it be read in stories of our Florence,
Sciarrha first did stain his family
With such a treason?
Flo. Was he not invited?
Sci. Yes, by his lust.
Flo. And in your crownèd tables,
And hospitality, will you murder him?
Sci. Yes, and the reason wherefore he was murdered,
Shall justify the deed to all posterity;
He came to wrong my sister.
Flo. Wanton heat;
Let youthful blood excuse him.
Sci. So it must.
Flo. Mistake me not; oh, think but who he is,
The duke, that word must needs awake your piety.
Ami. How will good men in this remembrance
Abhor your cruelty, that send to hell
One with the weight of all his sins upon him?
Sci. It is too late to cool with argument
My incensed blood. Will you go dally with him,
And let him board your pinnace? I have gone
So far in promise, if you clasp not with him,
It will be dangerous if he outlive
This night.
Ami. I have thought on't; send him to my bed.
Sci. Ha!
Ami. Do not question what I purpose; Heaven
Witness to my chaste thoughts.
Sci. Wilt thou trust him?
Ami. I will do much, sir, to preserve his life,
And your innocence: be not you suspectful;
At the worst you can but respite your revenge.
Sci. Dost thou not fear unhappy Lucrece' chance,
Or wretched Philomel's dishonour?
Ami. No:
Give me his life, and send your wanton to me:
I'll to my chamber; fear me not, Sciarrha,
Have not one thought so bad, I shall not prosper;
Virgins in Heaven will suffer with me.
Flo. Trust her. [Exeunt AMIDEA and FLORIO.
Sci. 'Tis but deferring of my justice;
She will not kill him, sure; draw on her soul
The guilt she hates in mine; if she do yield
To the hot encounter, ha! 'twill then be just,
That both their hearts weep blood, to purge their lust.
[Exit.

SCENE III.—Another Room in the same.

Enter FLORIO and AMIDEA.

Flo. My poniard?
Ami. I've no black intent
To stain't with any blood.
Flo. Take it, I know
Thou art my virtuous sister, it were wickedness
To doubt thy purpose, or the event.
Ami. Now leave me.
Flo. Thou hast a guard of angels.
Ami. They are coming.
[FLORIO conceals himself behind the hangings.

Enter SCIARRHA and the DUKE.

Sci. Look, there she is, sir: you know how to undress her.
Duke. Dearest Sciarrha.
Sci. To your recreation.—
Here I'll obscure myself. [Aside: sees FLORIO as he retires behind the
hangings.]—Florio? 'tis well.
Duke. Lady, you know me?
Ami. Yes; my prince.
Duke. I was so
Till I saw thee, but I gave up that title
A conquest to thy beauty, which, among
Her other wonders, hath created me
A subject and a servant, and I shall
Be happier to be received your's by
One of those names, than Duke of Tuscany.
Ami. Oh, take yourself again, sir; use your greatness
To make the hearts of Florence bow to you,
And pay their duties thus. [Kneels.
Duke. Rise, Amidea,
And since you have given my power back, it will
Become me to command.
Ami. And me to obey. [Rises.
Duke. I see thy noble brother hath been faithful
To my desires; he has prepared thee with
A story of my love, which thou reward'st
With too much humbleness: thou hast a quarrel,
And a just one, with thy stars, that did not make thee
A princess, Amidea; yet thou'rt greater,
And born to justify unto these times,
Venus, the queen of Love, was but thy figure,
And all her graces prophecies of thine,
To make our last age best. I could dwell ever
Here, and imagine I am in a temple,
To offer on this altar of thy lip, [Kisses her often.
Myriads of flaming kisses, with a cloud
Of ..... sighs breathed from my heart,
Which, by the oblation, would increase his stock,
To make my pay eternal.
Ami. What mean you?
Duke. That question is propounded timely: hadst thou
Not interrupted me, I should have lost
Myself upon thy lips, and quite forgot
There is a bliss beyond it, which I came for.
Let others satisfy themselves to read
The wonders in thy face, make proud their eye,
By seeing thine, turn statues at thy voice,
And think they never fix enough to hear thee.
A man half dead with famine would wish here
To feed on smiles, of which the least hath power
To call an anchorite from his prayers, tempt saints
To wish their bodies on. Thou dost with ease
Captivate kings with every beam, and mayst
Lead them like prisoners round about the world,
Proud of such golden chains; this were enough,
Had not my fate provided more, to make me
Believe myself immortal in thy touches.
Come to thy bed, transform me there to happiness;
I'll laugh at all the fables of the gods,
And teach our poets after I know thee,
To write the true Elysium.
Ami. Good, my lord,
I understand you not, and yet I fear
You do not mean well; if you have brought with you
A sinful purpose, which I may suspect—
Duke. Why, lady, what do you imagine I
Came hither for?
Ami. I know not.
Duke. How!
Is't come to that? your brother gave you more
Desirous of the sport, and brought me hither,
Ripe for your dalliance. Did you not expect me?
Ami. Yes.
Duke. And to what other purpose?
Ami. To tell you, that you are not virtuous.
Duke. I'm of your mind.
Ami. But I am not so wicked
To be of your's: oh, think but who you are,
Your title speaks you nearest Heaven, and points
You out a glorious reign among the angels;
Do not depose yourself of one, and be
Of the other disinherited.
Duke. I would
Your brother heard you; prithee, do not waste
This tedious divinity, I am
Resolved to grapple with you.
Ami. Keep off. [Shows the poniard.
Duke. Ha!
Turned Amazon?
Ami. Prince, come not too near me,
For, by my honour, since you have lost your own,
Although I bow in duty to your person,
I hate your black thoughts; tempt not my just hand
With violent approach, I dare, and will
Do that will grieve you, if you have a soul.
Duke. Thou dar'st not kill me.
Ami. True, but I dare die.
Duke. Be thy own murderer?
Ami. Rather than you should be my ravisher.
Duke. Thou canst not be so merciless, 'tis less sin
To be unchaste; I am thy prince, I prithee
Throw by that cruel weapon, let our war
Be soft embraces, shooting amorous smiles,
Kill and restore each other with a kiss,
I know thou canst not be unkind so long:
Then, I command thee.
Ami. I must not obey
To be your strumpet: though my hand be unskilful,
I shall soon find my heart.
Duke. I'll not believe—
Ami. Let this deserve your faith I dare be just,
[She wounds her arm.
This crimson river issuing from my arm.
Duke. Hold!
Ami. Never; it shall flow, and if this channel
Yield not enough, I'll strike another vein,
And after that, another, and not pity
The murmuring stream, till through a prodigal wound
I have drained the fountain: this doth weep for you,
And shall extol my death, if it may teach
You to correct your blood.
Duke. There's so much gone
From me, I cool apace; this action
Hath shot an ague through me; Amidea,
Pity thyself.
Ami. Not, till you swear repentance;
I do not faint yet, 'tis somewhat about,
But I can find a nearer way; this does it.
[Offering to strike herself again.
Duke. Contain; I am sorry, sorry from my soul,
Trust me, I do bleed inward, Amidea,
Can answer all thy drops: oh, pardon me,
Thou faint'st already, dost not? I am fearful.
The phœnix, with her wings, when she is dying,
Can fan her ashes into another life;
But when thy breath, more sweet than all the spice
That helps the other's funeral, returns
To Heaven, the world must be eternal loser.
Look to thy wound.
Ami. May I believe you, sir?
Duke. I dare not think awry; again I ask
Forgiveness; in thy innocence I see
My own deformity.
[SCIARRHA, followed by FLORIO, comes hastily from behind the
hangings and embraces AMIDEA.
Sci. Now a thousand blessings
Reward thy goodness; thou deserv'st a statue,
A tall one, which should reach above the clouds,
Jostle the moon, that people afar off
Beholding it, may be invited hither,
In hope to climb to Heaven by't; but apply
Betimes unto thy wound.—Florio, assist her.—
[FLORIO leads off AMIDEA.
And now, my lord—
Duke. Sciarrha, I'll begin to be thy lord;
I brought intentions of dishonour to thee,
And thy fair sister, but I am reconciled
To virtue, and will study how to satisfy
For you and Florence.
Sci. You will be more precious,
Than had you never fallen; I am all joy
In your conversion.
Duke.. . . . .
Sci. Lorenzo! I think, he has not said his prayers yet.
But—
Duke. What?
Sci. I cannot tell, may be he does not use it.
Duke. How?
Sci. My lord, you now are lovely;
'Twere better you'd forget him; he's not right
At heart, I fear.
Duke. Fear nothing.
Sci. To be plain,
You cherish your disease in him, and are
Not safe while he is near you.
Duke. Do not envy him.
Sci. Then I must tell you, sir, he is a traitor,
Within my knowledge, hath conspired your death.
Duke. With whom?
Sci. With me; I should have killed you, sir,
This night, and every minute he expects
To hear you numbered with the dead. I can
Demonstrate this: your pardon, but in truth,
The injuries you meant us were severe,
And he with as much violence did urge them
To your destruction; but your piety
Hath charmed my purpose, and I look upon you
With new obedience.

Re-enter FLORIO.

Duke. Impossible!
Sci. We will not shift the scene till you believe it.—
Florio, entreat my Lord Lorenzo hither.— [Exit FLO.
Step but behind the arras, and your ear
Shall tell you who's the greatest traitor living.
Observe but when I tell him you are slain,
How he'll rejoice, and call me Florence' great
Preserver, bless my arm, that in your blood
Hath given our groaning state a liberty;
Then trust Sciarrha: but obscure, I hear him.
[The DUKE retires behind the hangings.

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. Whom talked he to? [Aside.
Sci. 'Tis done—
Lor. What, good Sciarrha!
Sci. The duke is dead.
Lor. We are not left so miserable!
Heav'n is more kind to Florence.
Sci. With this hand
I made a passage for his soul.
Lor. Defend,
Omnipotence! what! murdered? and by noble
Sciarrha? how my ear abuses me!
Sci. Did not we plot it too?
Lor. How! we? collect,
I fear you are not well: pray tell me why
You talk thus? where's the duke? he hath a guard,
An army of Heaven about him; who in Florence
Dares be so black a devil to attempt
His death?
Sci. This is fine cunning; why, that devil is
Lorenzo, if he dare deny it; we are in private,
You need appear no stranger to that's done
By your direction.
Lor. I in the practice?
Then let me creep into the earth, and rise
A monster to affright mankind. Sciarrha,
I must abhor thee for it.—Oh my prince!
My dearest kinsman!—may thy hand rot off!—
Treason, treason!
Sci. Then my sword shall fetch
Another witness in thy heart.
[As they draw the DUKE comes hastily forth, and interposes.
Duke. Hold!
Lor. Tush, let him come,
My royal lord; nay, let him kill me now:
I've so much joy and peace about me, 'twere
A sin to wish my life beyond this minute.
Duke. Put up, I say.
Sci. My lord, we are both cozened:
That very smile's a traitor.
Duke. Come, be calm:
You are too passionate, Sciarrha, and
Mistook Lorenzo.
Lor. But I hold him noble:
I see he made this trial of my faith,
And I forgive him.
Duke. You shall be friends; you shall, I say.

Enter hastily COSMO and ALONZO.

Cos. The duke—
Alon. Where's the duke?
Cos. My lord, we are blest to see you safe; report
Hath frighted all the city with your death:
People forsake their beds, and seeking how
To be informed, increase the wretched tumult.
Alon. There's nothing but confusion; all men tremble,
As if some general fire invaded Florence.
Sci. Have comfort, sir.
Duke. What's to be done?
Lor. Depazzi has remembered.— [Aside.
My, lord, there is no safety for the state,
Unless you personally appease them.
Duke. How?
Lor. I hope they'll tear him; would he were dead any way! [Aside.
Alon. He hath counselled well.
Cos. Your presence only hath the power to charm them.
Duke. I fear their rage: where is our guard?
Alonzo, haste afore, proclaim our pardon,
And that we live to give the offenders mercy.
Why are we born to greatness, mocked with state,
When every tumult staggers our proud fate?
Sci. [Aside to LOR.]—Our quarrel is deferred, sir.
[Exeunt.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.—A Room in LORENZO'S House.

Enter LORENZO.

LOR. My plots thrive not; my engines all deceive me,
And in the very point of their discharge
Recoil with danger to myself: are there
No faithful villains left in nature? all
Turned honest? man nor spirit aid Lorenzo,
Who hath not patience to expect his fate,
But must compel it. How Sciarrha played
The dog-bolt with me! and had not I provided
In wisdom for him, that distress had ruined me.
His frozen sister, Amidea, too,
Hath half converted him; but I must set
New wheels in motion, to make him yet
More hateful, and then cut him from his stalk,
Ripe for my vengeance. I'll not trust the rabble;
Confusion on 'em!—the giddy multitude,
That, but two minutes ere the duke came at them,
Bellowed out "Liberty," shook the city with
Their throats, no sooner saw him, but they melted
With the hot apprehension of a gallows:
And when a pardon was proclaimed (a fine
State-snaffle for such mules), they turned their cry
To acclamations, and deafed Heaven to beg
His long and prosperous reign. A sudden rot
Consume this base herd! an the devil want
Any cattle for his own teeth, these are for him.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sciarrha, my lord, desires to speak with you.
Lor. Sciarrha! come near—[Whispers him.]—you
understand? admit him. [Exit Serv.

Enter SCIARRHA.

Welcome, my noble lord;
You were not wont to visit me.
Sci. Nor mean
Ever to do't again.
Lor. You bring frowns;
I can be sullen too: what is your pleasure?
Sci. You have abused me.
Lor. You have injured me.
Sci. In what?
Lor. Betrayed me basely to the duke.
Sci. You denied then you were a traitor?
Lor. Yes,
I was no fool to run my neck upon
The axe, and give you such a cause of triumph.
Were it again in question—
Sci. You are a villain, sir.
And I
Must have it certified under your own hand,
To show the duke.
Lor. You shall be humbled to
Confess the contrary, nay, subscribe
That I am honest, and desire my pardon.
Look, I have a sword, and arm, and vigour;
Dare fight with thee, didst ride upon a whirlwind,
Provoke thee on a rock, in waves, in fire,
And kill thee without scruple; such a strength
Is innocence.
Sci. Innocence! dost not fear a thunderbolt?
I shall be charitable to the world, an I
Cut thee in pieces; and yet then I fear
Thou wilt come together again: the devil does
Acknowledge thee on earth the greater mischief,
And has a fear, when thou art dead, he shall not
Be safe in hell; thou wilt conspire with some
Of his black fiends, and get his kingdom from him.
Didst not thou rail upon the duke
Lor. I grant it.
Sci. Call him a tyrant?
Lor. More, I do confess
I did exasperate you to kill or murder him;
Give it what name you please; with joy I brought him,
Under the colour of your guest, to be
The common sacrifice: all this I remember;
But is Heaven's stock of mercy spent already,
That sins, though great and horrid, may not be
Forgiven, to the heart that groans with penitence?
Are the eternal fountains quite sealed up?
I was a villain, traitor, murderer,
In my consenting to his death, but hope
Those stains are now washed off.
Sci. Hast thou repented?
Lor. Trust me, I have.
Sci. The devil is turned religious!
Augment not thy damnation.
Lor. As he was
A lustful duke, a tyrant, I had lost him.
In his return to piety, he commanded
My prayers, and fresh obedience to wait on him;
He's now my prince again.
Sci. This is but cunning
To save your life.
Lor. My life!—Within there! Ha! Welcome.

Enter divers Gentlemen armed.

1st Gent. My gracious lord.
2nd Gent. Wilt please your honour
Command my service?
3rd Gent. Or me?
4th Gent. Or any?
5th Gents. Our swords and lives are yours.
Sci. Perhaps your lordship hath some business with
These gentlemen, I'll take some other time.
Lor. By no means, good Sciarrha:
You visit seldom; those are daily with me,
Men that expect employment, that wear swords,
And carry spirits, both to be engaged,
If I but name a cause.—Gentlemen draw.
Sci. My providence has betrayed me. [Aside.
Lor. Now, Sciarrha,
You that with single valour dare come home
To affront me thus; know, but too late, thy heart
Is at the mercy of my breath: these swords
Can fetch it when I please; and, to prevent
Your boast of this great daring—I beseech,
As you do love and honour your Lorenzo,
No hand advance a weapon, to your loves,
But must not so dishonour you.
All Gent. We obey. [Exeunt.
Sci. They're gone: this is some nobleness. [Aside.
Lor. You see
I do not fear your sword; alone, I have,
Too much advantage; yet you may imagine
How easily I could correct this rashness:
But in my fear to offend gracious Heaven
With a new crime, having so late obtained
My peace, I give you freedom.
Sci. Do I dream?
Lor. Pray chide me still, I will be patient
To hear my shame.
Sci. Is this to be believed?
Doth not Lorenzo counterfeit this virtue?
He does: It is impossible he should repent.
Lor. Why? tell me, Sciarrha, and let us argue awhile
In cooler blood; did not you once resolve
To kill the duke too?
Sci. I confess—
Lor. To give him death with your own hand?

Methinks it should be the same parricide
In you, if not a greater; yet you changed
Your purposes; why did you not go through,
And murder him?
Sci. He was converted.
Lor. Good!
That taught you mercy, and perhaps repentance
For your intent.
Sci. It did.
Lor. Why should not, sir,
The same conversion of the duke possess
My heart, with as much piety to him,
And sorrow for myself? If I should say
You are but cunning in this shape of honesty,
And still suspect your soul to be a traitor,
Might you not blame my want of charity?
Sci. He says but right, we are both men, frail things.
[Aside.
'Tis not impossible.
Lor. I am reconciled
To Heaven already, and the duke: if you
Be still unsatisfied, I am ready, sir—
Sci. The circumstance considered, I incline
To think this may be honest.
Lor. Come, Sciarrha,
We are both hasty: pardon my rash language
In the beginning, I will study service
Shall make you love me; I have been too wicked,
Too full of passion, inexorable:
My nature is corrected; at this minute
I'm friends with all the world, but in your love
Shall number many blessings.
Sci. I am converted.

Enter PETRUCHIO.

Lor. [Takes PET. aside.]—What's the news?
Pet. My lord, Depazzi prays some conference
In the next chamber; we arrived by chance
Together at your gate: I do not like
His talk, sir.
Lor. Hang him, property! let him
Expect; thou art come in the opportunity
I could have wished; be wise, and second me.
[Whispers him.
Sci. He waits upon Pisano,
Whose health I may enquire; I have not seen him
Since he departed sick; a fit occasion.
Lor. [Aloud.] Married to Oriana? thou mistak'st,
'Tis Amidea, Lord Sciarrha's sister.
Pet. That contract's broken, and the old lady Morosa is violent to
have the marriage finished with her daughter.
Lor. [Coming forward.]—Sciarrha,
Is't true Pisano marries Oriana,
The rich Morosa's daughter?
Sci. Ha!
Lor. We did expect to hear your sister should
Have been his bride; has he forsaken Amidea?
Sci. Do not you serve Pisano?
Pet. Yes, my lord.
Sci. And dare you talk he's to be married
To Oriana?
Pet. If they live till to-morrow:
There's great provision, to my knowledge, and—
Sci. Take that, and learn to speak a truth hereafter.
[Strikes him.
Lor. That blow shall cost his life.— [Aside.
It is not possible he dare affront
You thus; the world takes notice of a contract;
He's much to blame if he should wrong so sweet
A lady as Amidea. Now, by Hymen,
'Tis not so honourable; he need not scorn
Such an alliance.
Pet. I am not to give
Account for my lord's actions, let him answer
And justify his honour: but, my lord,
Since I am provoked, I must declare he has
Called back his vows to Amidea, given
Her freedom, and does mean to use his own,
And this he dares publish.
Lor. What! disclaimed
A lady of her birth and glorious merit?
Sci. Thou art a villain.
Lor. My lord, he is not worth your anger; he
Declares but what his master hath committed,
'Tis none of his fault.
Pet. It becomes my duty
To take correction, my lord, from you;
I am a servant, a poor gentleman.
Sci. Shall I
Suspect the circumstance at his departure? [Aside.
Lor. It is strange you knew not this before.
Sci. I must examine if he dares—
Lor. Be patient.
Sci. Teach fools and children patience.
May dogs eat up Sciarrha: let me live
The prodigy of sorrow; die a death
That may draw tears from Scythians, if Pisano
Lead o'er his threshold any soon-won dame,
To be my sister's shame! I am calm now.
One thus false, Heaven, why should thy altars save?
'Tis just that Hymen light him to his grave. [Exit.
Lor. A thousand Furies swell his rage! although
Pisano bleed, this is the safest killing;
Wise men secure their fates, and execute
Invisibly, like that most subtle flame
That burns the heart, yet leaves no part or touch
Upon the skin to follow or suspect it.—
Farewell, dull, passionate fool! how this doth feed me;
Kill, and be lost thyself; or, if his sword
Conclude thy life, both ways I am revenged.
Petruchio, thou didst hit my instructions rarely,
And I applaud thee: now send in Depazzi,
And visit me anon.
Pet. I shall, my lord. [Exit.
Lor. Some politician,
That is not wise but by a precedent,
Would think me weak for using such an instrument
As this Depazzi; but I know by proof,
Such men whom fear and honour make our creatures,
Do prove safe engines; fools will still obey,
When cunning knaves our confidence betray.

Enter DEPAZZI.

Dep. My lord, I would speak a word or two in private.
Lor. You may.
Dep. Is no body within hearing? all clear behind the arras?
Lor. Make do doubt, sir.
Dep. My lord, the truth is—I am very fearful—is your
lordship sure there are no eaves-droppers?
Lor. What needs this circumstance? I pray come to the point.
Dep. 'Tis not unknown to your lordship, that you have been my
very good lord, neither am I ignorant, that I am your humble servant;
you advanced me, brought me into the number of the nobles, and I
brought you a reasonable number of crowns: I am not the first
wise citizen that hath been converted into a foolish
courtier; but, my lord, I beseech you pardon me:—it will out.
Lor. What's the matter?
Dep. I am ready to burst.
Lor. With what?
Dep. Treason, treason;—now 'tis out,
and I feel my body the lighter for it already. The last plot did not take, you
see; and I would humbly entreat your lordship to excuse me, and get somebody
else hereafter to be your traitor, in my stead.
Lor. How, sir?
Dep. If you did but know the tenderness of my constitution, or feel th
e pangs and convulsions that I suffer, you would pity me: I fall away, you
see, I cannot sleep for dreaming of an axe; I have caused my hangings of
Holofernes to be taken down in my drawing-room, because I dare not look
upon a head that is cut off in it, something of my complection: my
wisdom tells me I am a fool to be so fearful; but my conscience
tells me I am a greater fool if I have not wit enough in my
pate to keep my head on my shoulders. I beseech your
lordship take me into your consideration; I am but a mortal, though I be a lord
; every man hath not the like gift of impudence; I have a weak stomach, and
treason is physic to me, and although I do not vomit up your secrets, they
may out some other way.
Lor. You will not betray me?
Dep. But alas! in such a case I may soon bewray myself, and then
your lordship may be smelt out: to prevent, therefore, some mischief that may h
appen, I desire to leave off while I am well, and that your lordship may know
I mean plainly, I have brought you all your letters; I durst not trust any
other place with them, for fear of state rats; I have unript my bosom to
you, and there they are to a title—now, I may safely swear I have
no hand with your lordship.
Lor. This is very strange.
Dep. Mistake not, my good lord, I am still your creature, but I have a
great mind to be honest a little, while among the weaker sort of nobility:
yet thus much persuade yourself, I will never wrong your lordship in a
syllable; should you tell me of a thousand treasons and stratagems, I
will never reveal any; I scorn that: but your lordship must pardon
me, I will be a traitor no longer, that's certain, I will be
honest, and the rather because no body shall hit me in the
teeth after I am dead, and say, "Look where Depazzi
carries his head very high!"—And, my lord, the more to induce your lordshi
p to dismiss me—Rogero!

Enter ROGERO.

Rog. My lord.
Dep. Give me the gold.—I have brought fifteen hundred crowns
more.
Lor. Wherefore?
Dep. That I may have your lordship's good will, to leave my
office before it be taken from me, and preferred to a worse; 'tis
half the price I paid for't. I love peace, and a little honesty;
I know your honour will find an abler man for it, and it is fit
I should pay for my quietus.
Lor. And what do you resolve?
Dep. To return to the dunghill, from whence I came;
for though I was born in the city, I have some land in the
country, dirty acres, and mansion-house, where I will be
the miracle of a courtier, and keep good hospitality,
love my neighbours, and their wives, and consequently get their children; be ad
mired amongst the justices, sleep upon every bench, keep a chaplain in my own
house to be my idolater, and furnish me with jests; and when I have nothing
else to do, I will think of the court, and how much I have been obliged to
your lordship. My lord, I may do you service with a leading voice in the
country; the kennel will cry on my side if it come to election: you or
your friend shall carry it against the commonwealth.
Lor. Well, sir, since you have expressed yourself so freely,
I will not counsel you against your disposition to stay at court; you may go wh
en and whither you please; and though at parting I have nothing worth your
acceptation, I will bestow these crowns upon your servant.
[Gives ROGERO the money.
Dep. Thou shalt give them me again.
Rog. Indeed, my lord, I love a little honesty, 'tis his lordship's
bounty, it will be a stock to set me up for myself at court, when your
lordship is retired into the country.—I humbly thank your
lordship, and take my leave of yours. [Exit with the money.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. The duke, my lord. [Exit Servant.
Dep. How! the duke?

Enter the DUKE.

Duke. Signior Depazzi.
Lor. He has been earnest with me, an't please your highness,
To be his humble suitor, he may have
Freedom to leave the court.
Duke. He shall be banished.
Dep. How?
Lor. What time will your grace allow him to provide?
Duke. Two hours.
Dep. I had rather lose my head at home, and save
charges of travel, I beseech your grace.
Duke. Well, 'tis granted; let him not trouble us.
Lor. Enjoy the country, and return when the duke sends for you.
Dep. I humbly thank his highness, and will pray
for your increase of grace. [Exit.
Duke. Lorenzo, are we private?
Lor. Yes, my lord.
Duke. I am very melancholy.
Lor. I know the cause, 'tis Amidea.
Duke. Right.
Lor. I do wish her dead.
Duke. It were a sin.
Lor. Not in Heaven, sir; yet there be ladies,
that would think it a promotion.
Duke. It were a pity she should leave the world,
Till she hath taught the rest by her example
The nearest way.
Lor. I am very confident she's yet honest.
Duke, Yet, Lorenzo?
Lor. Ay, sir, but I'm not of opinion
It is impossible to know a change.
Duke. Take heed.
Lor. I must confess she has been very valiant,
In making you remove your siege, and showed a
Pretty dexterity at the poniard;
Let herself blood;—but this a mortal virgin
Might do, and not be adored for't: other women
Have gone as far, or else false legends have
Been thrust upon the easy world; some say
There have been creatures that have killed themselves,
To save their sullen chastities; but I
Have no strong faith that way; yet you were startled
To see her strike her arm, and grew compassionate.
Duke. I was not marble; we break adamant
With blood, and could I be a man, and not
Be moved to see that hasty ebb of life
For my sake?
Lor. I have read some aged stories:
What think you of Lucrece? she is remembered.
Duke. Chastity's great example.
Lor. How the world
Was cozened in her? she knew of Tarquin first,
And then suspecting she should never meet
Again the active gentleman, and having
Determined of his death, with well dissembled
Sorrow did stab herself, in hope to meet
The gamester in Elysium. Amidea
You will allow beneath this Roman dame?
Duke. Lorenzo, had the burning ravisher
Made this attempt on Amidea, she
Would have compelled his penitence, to quench
His fire with holy tears. I had a body
Refined to air, or I was borne up by
A thousand wings: methought I could have flown
And kissed the cheek of Cynthia, thence with ease
Have leaped to Venus' star, but I was wounded,
And the gay feathers, in whose pride I had
My confidence, served now but with their weight
To hasten me to earth.
Lor. Ascend again,
And fix in your loved orb; he brings this comfort
That can assure it, if you have not lost
A heart to entertain with love and pleasure
The beauteous Amidea.
Duke. Ha!
Lor. You shall enjoy her.
Duke. Enjoy fair Amidea? do not tempt
Or rather mock my frailty with such promise.
Lor. Shake off your melancholy slumber, I
Have here decreed you shall possess her: she
Be sent submissive to your arms, and you
Be gracious to accept what she made coy of.
Duke. Is this in nature?
Lor. Thus: Sciarrha's life
And fortunes are already growing forfeit,
These brains have plotted so: your mercy shall
Purchase what you can wish for, in his sister;
And he acknowledge rifling of her honour
A fair and cheap redemption.
Duke. Do this;
And I'll repent the folly of my penitence,
And take thee to my soul, a nearer pledge,
Than blood or nature gave me: I'm renewed,
I feel my natural warmth return. When, where
Is this to be expected? I grow old,
While our embraces are deferred.
Lor. I go
To hasten your delight; prepare your blood
For amorous game: Sciarrha's fate is cast
Firmer than destiny.
Duke. Thou art my prophet,
I'll raise thee up an altar.
Lor. Trust these brains.
Duke. Thou makest my spirit caper in my veins.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Street.

COSMO and Two Gentlemen appear at an Upper Window.

1st Gent. This way they pass.
Cos. I would not see them.
2nd Gent. Why?
1st Gent. What! melancholy o' the sudden? it is now Past cure.
Cos. I know it is, and therefore do not
Desire to witness their solemnity.
Should Oriana see me to-day—
2nd Gent. What then?
Cos. The object,
I fear, would be too prodigious.
2nd Gent. We dispute not
Those nice formalities.

Enter ALONZO, PISANO, ORIANA, and MOROSA

1st Gent. She has spied you already.
Cos. I am sorry for't.
[ORIANA faints. COSMO and Gentlemen retire.
Mor. How is't, my child?
Pis. My dearest Oriana;—
She faints! what grief is so unmannerly
To interrupt thee now? Oriana!
Mor. Daughter!
Pis. Will Heaven divorce us ere the priest have made
Our marriage perfect? we in vain hereafter
Shall hear him teach, that our religion binds
To have the church's ceremony. She returns.
Ori. Why were you so unkind to call me from
A pleasing slumber? Death has a fine dwelling.
Alon. This shows her heart's not yet consenting; 'tis
Her mother's fierce command.
Ori. Something spake to me from that window.
Pis. There is nothing.
Ori. Nothing now.
Pis. Set forward.
Alon. I do not like this interruption; it
Is ominous.

Enter AMIDEA hastily.

Ami. Not for my sake, but for your own, go back,
Or take some other way, this leads to death;
My brother—
Pis. What of him;
Ami. Transported with
The fury of revenge for my dishonour,
As he conceives, for 'tis against my will,
Hath vowed to kill you in your nuptial glory.
Alas! I fear his haste; now, good my lord,
Have mercy on yourself; I do not beg
Your pity upon me, I know too well
You cannot love me now, nor would I rob
This virgin of your faith, since you have pleased
To throw me from your love: I do not ask
One smile, nor one poor kiss; enrich this maid,
Created for those blessings; but again
I would beseech you, cherish your own life,
Though I be lost for ever.
Alon. It is worth
Your care, my lord, if there be any danger.
Pis. Alas! her grief hath made her wild, poor lady
I should not love Oriana to go back;
Set forward.—Amidea, you may live
To be a happier bride: Sciarrha is not
So irreligious to profane these rites.
Ami. Will you not then believe me?—Pray persuade him,
You are his friends.—Lady, it will concern
You most of all, indeed; I fear you'll weep
To see him dead, as well as I.
Pis. No more;
Go forward.
Ami. I have done; pray be not angry,
That still I wish you well: may Heaven divert
All harms that threaten you; full blessings crown
Your marriage! I hope there is no sin in this;
Indeed, I cannot choose but pray for you.
This might have been my wedding-day—
Ori. Good Heaven,
I would it were! my heart can tell, I take
No joy in being his bride, none in your prayers;
You shall have my consent to have him still
I will resign my place, and wait on you,
If you will marry him.
Ami. Pray do not mock me,
But if you do, I can forgive you too.
Ori. Dear Amidea, do not think I mock
Your sorrow; by these tears, that are not worn
By every virgin on her wedding-day,
I am compelled to give away myself:
Your hearts were promised, but he ne'er had mine,
Am not I wretched too.
Ami. Alas, poor maid!
We two keep sorrow alive then; but I prithee,
When thou art married, love him, prithee love him,
For he esteems thee well; and once a day
Give him a kiss for me; but do not tell him,
'Twas my desire: perhaps 'twill fetch a sigh
From him, and I had rather break my heart.
But one word more, and Heaven be with you all.—
Since you have led the way, I hope, my lord,
That I am free to marry too?
Pis. Thou art.
Ami. Let me beseech you then, to be so kind,
After your own solemnities are done,
To grace my wedding; I shall be married shortly.
Pis. To whom?
Ami. To one whom you have all heard talk of,
Your fathers knew him well: one, who will never
Give cause I should suspect him to forsake me;
A constant lover, one whose lips, though cold,
Distil chaste kisses: though our bridal bed
Be not adorned with roses, 'twill be green;
We shall have virgin laurel, cypress, yew,
To make us garlands; though no pine do burn,
Our nuptial shall have torches, and our chamber
Shall be cut out of marble, where we'll sleep,
Free from all care for ever: Death, my lord,
I hope, shall be my husband. Now, farewell;
Although no kiss, accept my parting tear,
And give me leave to wear my willow here. [Exit.

Enter SCIARRHA; followed at a distance by
LORENZO, with a Guard.

Alon. Sciarrha! then I prophesy—
Sci. Pisano! where's Pisano?
Pis. Here, Sciarrha.
I should have answered with less clamour
Sci. But
I would not lose my voice; I must be heard,
And it does concern you. I profess no augury,
I have not quartered out the heavens, to take
The flight of birds, nor by inspection
Of entrails made a divination;
But I must tell you, 'tis not safe to marry.
Pis. Why?
Sci. 'Twill be fatal; Hymen is gone abroad,
And Venus, lady of your nativity,
Is found, by wise astrologers, this day,
I' the House of Death.
Pis. This must not fright me, sir.—Set forward.
Sci. One cold word,—you are a villain!
I do not flatter.
Pis. I am patient:
This day I consecrate to love, not anger;
We'll meet some other time.
Sci. Deride my fury?
Then to thy heart I send my own revenge, [Stabs him.
And Amidea's.
Pis. I am murdered.
Mor. Help! murder! gentlemen! oh, my unhappiness!
[LORENZO and Guard come forward.
Pis. Bloody Sciarrha!
[Dies. They offer to seize SCIARRHA.
Lor. Hold!
Sci. Come all at once;
Yet let me tell you, my revenge is perfect,
And I would spare your blood, if you despise not
My charity—
Lor. No man attempt his death;
I'll give you reasons: this fell deed deserves
An exemplary justice.
Sci. I am above
Your politic reach, and glory in the wound
That punished our dishonour. Is he dead?
I would not be so miserable, not to have sped him,
For the empire.

Enter COSMO.

Cos. Oh, my friend! poor Oriana!
Lor. [To the Guard.]—Disarm him:
Return and comfort one another; some
Remove Pisano's body, while I make it
My care Sciarrha 'scape not.
[Exeunt, bearing the body of PISANO, all but LORENZO,
SCIARRHA, and Guard.
Sci. None of all
Give me a scratch?
Lor. [To the Guard.]—You have forced him with discretion.
Sci. Now what must I expect?
Lor. You are my prisoner.
Sci. I am so.
Lor. And be confident to find
That favour.—
Sci. Favour!
Lor. Be at distance more.— [The Guard retire.
My lord, I am sorry for your great misfortune,
And if you can but study how I may
Assist you, you shall soon discern my love,
My readiness to serve you.
Sci. Ha! this honest?
Lor. I would deserve your faith,
A friend but in affliction justifies
His heart and honour, I durst run some hazard,
Might I secure your fate; name something to me
That may declare my friendship.
Sci. Be still safe,
And teach the world repentance for mistaking thee;
I pity not myself, but envy thy
Heroic honours.
Lor. I will impose no more
Restraint, than your own house; you're honourable:
You have many severe enemies; the duke
Looked graciously upon Pisano, but—
Sci. You shall not lose the smallest beam of favour,
To buy a man so desperate. I never
Thought death the monster that weak men have fancied,
As foil to make us more in love with life.
The devil's picture may affright poor souls
Into their bodies' paleness, but the substance
To resolute man's a shadow; and cold sweat
Dare not approach his forehead. I am armed
To die, and give example of that fortitude
Shall shame the law's severity: my sister
May now give back Pisano his false vows,
To line his coffin: one tear shed on me is
Enough, the justice I have done shall make
My memory beloved.
Lor. I have thought a way
To recover you, if you incline to it;
Dare you consent?
Sci. To any thing that's noble;
Although I never feared to suffer, I
Am not so foolish to despise a life.
Lor. There is no difficulty attends it; listen,
The time will not permit much circumstance:
The duke, you know, did love your sister.
Sci. Viciously.
Lor. Her virtue did but cool him for the present,
As sprinklings on a flame; he's now more passionate
To enjoy her.
Sci. Ha!
Lor. If she consent to meet
His soft embrace, with his first kiss he seals
Your pardon; then the act upon Pisano
Appears a true revenge, when none dares question it.
Beside addition of state and fortune,
To you and Amidea, weigh your danger,
And what a trifle she gives up, to save
Your life, that never can be valued,
Less recompensed; the duke may be so taken
With her return to his delight, who knows
But he may marry her, and discharge his duchess
With a quaint salad— You do apprehend me?
Sci. And repent more I had one good thought of thee,
Than I had killed a thousand:—save my life,
And prostitute my sister! Though I have
No weapon, I will look thee dead, or breathe
A damp shall stifle thee: that I could vomit
Consuming flames, or stones, like Etna! make
The earth with motion of my feet shrink lower,
And take thee in alive! oh that my voice
Could call a serpent from corrupted Nile,
To make thee part of her accursed bowels!
Is this your noble friendship? readiness
To save my life? let malice read all stories
Famous for cruelty, awake dead tyrants,
Or be instructed by their ghosts with tortures,
Such as will make a damned Fury weep
Only to see inflicted, I would bear them,
And weary my tormenters, ere consent
In thought to thy temptation.
Lor. I have done,
And praise your heathen resolution
Of death; go practise immortality,
And tell us, when you can get leave to visit
This world again, what fine things you enjoy
In hell, for thither these rash passions drive thee:
And ere thy body hath three days inhabited
A melancholy chamber in the earth,
Hung round about with skulls and dead men's bones,
Ere Amidea have told all her tears
Upon thy marble, or the epitaph
Bely thy soul, by saying it is fled
To Heaven, this sister shall be ravished,
Maugre thy dust and heraldry.
Sci. Ha! ravished
When I am dead? Was't not so? oh my soul!
I feel it weep within me, and the tears
Soften my flesh: Lorenzo, I repent
My fury.
Lor. I advised you the best way
My wisdom could direct.
Sci. I thank you for't,
You have awaked my reason, I am ashamed
I was no sooner sensible; does the duke
Affect my sister still, say you?
Lor. Most passionately.
Sci. She shall obey him then, upon my life;
That's it, my life. I know she loves me dearly.
I shall have much ado to win her to't,
But she shall come; I'll send her.
Lor. Perform this.
Sci. I will not only send her, but prepared
Not to be disobedient to his highness;
He shall command her any thing.
Lor. Do this,
And be for ever happy. When these have
Only for form waited on you home,
This disengages them.
Sci. My humblest service
To the duke I pray, and tell him, Amidea
This night shall be at his dispose, by this.
Lor. I'm confident; farewell!—Attend Sciarrha.
[Exit.
Sci. Pity the seaman, that to avoid a shelf,
Must strike upon a rock to save himself.
[Exit, with Guard.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.—A Room in SCIARRHA'S House.

Enter SCIARRHA and AMIDEA.

SCI. The doors are fast;
Enough is wept already for Pisano:
There's something else that must be thought on, and
Of greater consequence: I am yet unsafe,
That, for thy sake, am guilty of his blood.
Ami. Though all my stock of tears were spent already
Upon Pisano's loss, and that my brain
Were banquèrupt of moisture, and denied
To lend my grief one drop more for his funeral
Yet the remembrance that you have made
A forfeit for my sake of your dear life
Is able to create a weeping spring
Within my barren head: oh, my lost broth
Thou hast a cruel destiny! my eyes,
In pity of thy fate, desire to drown thee.
The law will only seek thee upon land;
Hid in my tears, thou shalt prevent the stroke
Kills both our name and thee.
Sci. I know thou lov'st me,
Poor girl. I shall desire to cherish life,
If thou lament me thus: so rich a comfort
Will tempt me wish I might delay my journey
To Heaven.
Ami. Good Heaven, that we might go together!
Sci. That must not be.
Ami. Then let me go before.
Sci. How?
Ami. Make my suit unto the prince, my blood
May be your ransom; let me die, Sciarrha,
My life is fruitless unto all the world;
The duke in justice will not deny this:
And though I weep in telling thee, I shall
Smile on the scaffold.
Sci. How my honour blushes
To hear thee, Amidea! in this love
Thou wound'st me more, than thou desir'st to save.
Suffer for me? why, thou art innocent:
I have provoked the punishment, and dare
Obey it manly; if thou could'st redeem me
With anything but death, I think I should
Consent to live, but I'd not have thee venture
All at one chance.
Ami. Nothing can be too precious
To save a brother, such a loving brother
As you have been.
Sci. Death's a devouring gamester,
And sweeps up all: what think'st thou of an eye?
Couldst thou spare one, and think the blemish recompensed,
To see me safe with t'other? Or a hand?
This white hand, Amidea, that hath so often,
With admiration, trembled on the lute,
Till we have prayed thee leave the strings awhile,
And laid our ears close to thy ivory fingers,
Suspecting all the harmony proceeded
From their own motion, without the need
Of any dull or passive instrument.
No, Amidea, thou shalt not bear one scar
To buy my life; the sickle shall not touch
A flower that grows so fair upon his stalk;
Thy t'other hand will miss a white companion,
And wither on thy arm: what then can I
Expect from thee to save me? I would live,
And owe my life to thee, so 'twere not bought
Too dear.
Ami. Do you believe I should not find
The way to Heaven? were both mine eyes thy ransom,
I shall climb up those high and rugged cliffs
Without a hand.
Sci. One way there is, if thou
Dost love me with that tenderness.
Ami. Pronounce it,
And let no danger that attends, incline you
To make a pause.
Sci. The duke, thou know'st, did love thee.
Ami. Ha!
Sci. Nay, do not start already, nor mistake me;
I do not, as before, make trial of thee,
Whether thou canst, laying aside thy honour,
Meet his lascivious arms; but, by this virtue,
I must beseech thee to forego it all,
And turn a sinful woman.
Ami. Bless me!
Sci. I know the kingdoms of the world contain not
Riches enough to tempt thee to a fall
That will so much undo thee; but I am
Thy brother, dying brother; if thou lov'st
Him, therefore, that for thee hath done so much;
Dyed his pale hands in blood, to revenge thee,
And in that murder wounded his own soul
Almost to death, consent to lose thy innocence;
I know it makes thee grieve, but I shall live
To love thee better for it: we'll repent
Together for our sins, and pray and weep
Till Heaven hath pardoned all.
Ami. Oh, never, never.
Sci. Do but repeat thy words, to "save my life,"
And that will teach compassion, my life;
Our shame, the stain of all our family,
Which will succeed in my ignoble death,
Thou washest off.
Ami. But stain myself for ever.
Sci. Where? In thy face, who shall behold one blemish,
Or one spot more in thy whole frame? thy beauty
Will be the very same, thy speech, thy person
Wear no deformity.
Ami. Oh, do not speak
So like a rebel to all modesty,
To all religion; if these arguments
Spring from your jealousy that I am fallen,
After a proof you did so late applaud—
Sci. I had not killed Pisano then; I am now
More spotted than the marble: then my head
Did own no forfeiture to law,
It does ache now; then I but tried thy virtue,
Now my condition calls for mercy to thee,
Though to thyself thou appear cruel for't:
Come, we may live both, if you please.
Ami. I must never
Buy my poor breath at such a rate. Who has
Made you afraid to die? I pity you,
And wish myself in any noble cause
Your leader. When our souls shall leave this dwelling,
The glory of one fair and virtuous action
Is above all the 'scutcheons on our tomb,
Or silken banners over us.
Sci. So valiant!
I will not interpose another syllable
To entreat your pity; say your prayers, and then
Thou'rt ripe to be translated from the earth,
To make a cherubin.
Ami. What means my brother?
Sci. To kill you.
Ami. Do not fright me, good Sciarrha.
Sci. And I allow three minutes for devotion.
Ami. Will you murder me?
Sci. Do you tremble?
Ami. Not at the terror of your sword,
But at the horror will affright thy soul,
For this black deed. I see Pisano's blood
Is texted in thy forehead, and thy hands
Retain too many crimson spots already;
Make not thyself, by murthering of thy sister,
All a red letter.
Sci. You shall be the martyr.
Ami. Yet stay; is there no remedy but death,
And from your hand? then keep your word, and let me
Use one short prayer. [Kneels.
Sci. I shall relent. [Aside.
Ami. Forgive me, Heaven, and witness I have still
My virgin thoughts; 'tis not to save my life,
But his eternal one.—
Sciarrha, give me leave to veil my face, [Rises.
I dare not look upon you, and pronounce
I am too much a sister; live; hereafter,
I know, you will condemn my frailty for it.
I will obey the duke.
Sci. Darest thou consent? [Stabs her.
Ami. [Unveiling.]—Oh, let me see the wound;
'Tis well, if any other hand had done it:
Some angel tell my brother now, I did
But seem consenting.
Sci. Ha! "but seem"?
Ami. You may believe my last breath.
Sci. Why didst say so?
Ami. To gain some time, in hope you might call in
Your bloody purpose, and prevent the guilt
Of being my murderer; but Heaven forgive thee.
Sci. Again, again forgive me, Amidea,
And pray for me; live but a little longer,
To hear me speak; my passion hath betrayed
Thee to this wound, for which I know not whether
I should rejoice, or weep, since thou art virtuous.
The duke, whose soul is black again, expects thee
To be his whore:—Good Death, be not so hasty.—
The agent for his lust, Lorenzo, has
My oath to send thee to his bed: for otherwise,
In my denial, hell and they decree,
When I am dead, to ravish thee—mark that,
To ravish thee!—and I confess, in tears
As full of sorrow, as thy soul of innocence,
In my religious care to have thee spotless,
I did resolve, when I had found thee ripe,
And nearest Heaven, with all thy best desires,
To send thee to thy peace: thy feigned consent
Hath brought thy happiness more early to thee,
And saved some guilt; forgive me altogether.
Ami. With the same heart I beg Heaven for myself;
Farewell. [Swoons.
Sci. Thou shalt not die yet. Amidea! sister!—
[Knocking within.
I cannot come:—
But one word more: Oh, which way went thy soul?
Or is it gone so far it cannot hear me?—

FLORIO breaks open the door and enters.

Look, here's our sister! so, so; chafe her:
She may return; there is some motion.
Flo. Sister!
Sci. Speak aloud, Florio; if her spirit be not
Departed, I will seal this passage up;
I feel her breath again.—Here's Florio, would
Fain take his leave.—So, so she comes!
Flo. Amidea,
How came this wound?
Ami. I drew the weapon to it:
Heaven knows, my brother loved me: now, I hope,
The duke will not pursue me with new flames.
Sciarrha, tell the rest: love one another
The time you live together; I'll pray for you
In Heaven: farewell! kiss me when I am dead,
You else will stay my journey. [Dies.
Sci. Didst not hear
An angel call her? Florio, I have much
To tell thee: take her up; stay, I will talk
A little more with her; she is not dead,
Let her alone;—nay then, she's gone indeed.
But hereabouts her soul must hover stil'
Let's speak to that: fair spirit—
Flo. You talk idly.
Sci. Do you talk wisely then? An excellent pattern,
As she now stands, for her own alabaster;
Or may she not be kept from putrefaction,
And be the very figure on her tomb?
Cannot thy tears and mine preserve her, Florio?
If we want brine, a thousand virgins shall
Weep every day upon her, and themselves,
In winter, leaning round about her monument,
Being moist creatures, stiffen with the cold,
And freeze into so many white supporters.
But we lose time.—I charge thee, by thy love
To this pale relic, be instructed by me,
Not to thy danger; some revenge must be,
And I am lost already; if thou fall,
Who shall survive, to give us funeral? [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Room in LORENZO'S House.

Enter LORENZO and PETRUCHIO.

Lor. Petruchio.
Pet. My lord.
Lor. Thou art now my servant.
Pet. I ever was in heart your humblest vassal.
Lor. Thou art faithful; I must cherish thy desert;
I shortly shall reward it, very shortly:
Next morning must salute me duke; the sun
And I must rise together.
Pet. I shall pray
Your glory may outshine him in your Florence,
And when he sets, we may enjoy your sunbeam.
Lor. 'Tis handsome flattery, and becomes a courtier,
Pet. I flatter not, my lord.
Lor. Then, thou'rt a fool:
No music to a great man chimes so sweetly,
And men must thrive; come hither,
How many hast thou killed?
Pet. But one, my lord.
Lor. But one!
Pet. And I must owe
My life to your lordship, I had been hanged else.
Lor. But one? wait at the door; [Exit PETRUCHIO.
He is
Not fit to kill a duke, whose hand is guilty
But of a single murder; or at least
Not fit alone to act it: I have been
Practised already, and though no man see it,
Nor scarce the eye of Heaven, yet every day
I kill a prince.—Appear, thou tragic witness,
[Brings forth the duke's picture, a poniard sticking in it.
Which, though it bleed not, I may boast a murder.
Here first the duke was painted to the life,
But with this pencil, to the death: I love
My brain for the invention, and thus
Confirmed, dare trust my resolution.
I did suspect his youth and beauty might
Win some compassion when I came to kill him;
Or the remembrance that he is my kinsman,
Might thrill my blood; or something in his title
Might give my hand repulse, and startle nature:
But thus I have armed myself against all pity,
That when I come to strike, my poniard may
Through all his charms as confidently wound him,
As thus I stab his picture, and stare on it.
[Stabs the picture.
Methinks the duke should feel me now: is not
His soul acquainted? can he less than tremble,
When I lift up my arm to wound his counterfeit?
Witches can persecute the lives of whom
They hate, when they torment their senseless figures,
And stick the waxen model full of pins.
Can any stroke of mine carry less spell
To wound his heart, sent with as great a malice?
He smiles, he smiles upon me! I will dig
Thy wanton eyes out, and supply the dark
And hollow cells with two pitch-burning tapers;
Then place thee porter in some charnel-house,
To light the coffins in.—

Re-enter PETRUCHIO.

Pet. My lord.
Lor. The duke's not come already?
Pet. Signior Florio
Desires to speak with you.
Lor. This must retire
Again into my closet. [Puts back the picture.
Admit him.

Enter FLORIO.

Welcome! how does Sciarrha?
Flo. He commends
His service to your lordship, and hath sent—
Lor. His sister?
Flo. Much ado he had to affect it:
He hopes his grace will quickly sign his pardon.
Lor. It shall be done.
Flo. I have a suit, my lord.
Lor. To me?
Flo. My sister would intreat your honour,
She may be admitted privately, and that
I may have privilege to prepare her chamber:
She does retain some modesty, and would not
Trust every servant with her shame; their eyes
Are apt to instruct their tongues.
Lor. I will not see her myself.
Command what you desire.
Flo. You are gracious.
Lor. I'll give directions instantly: poor lady,
This is the duke's hot blood; but Heaven convert him!
Follow me, good Florio.
Flo. I attend, my lord.
Lor. Things shall be carried honourably.
Flo. We are all bound to you. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—Another Room in the same.

Recorders sound. The body of AMIDEA discovered on a bed, prepared by
two Gentlewomen.

1st Gent. This is a sad employment.
2nd Gent. The last we e'er shall do my lady.

Enter FLORIO.

Flo. So; now you may return: it will become
Your modest duties not to enquire the reason
Of this strange service, nor to publish what
You have been commanded.—[Exeunt Gentlewomen.]—
Let me look upon
My sister now; still she retains her beauty,
Death has been kind to leave her all this sweetness.
Thus in a morning have I oft saluted
My sister in her chamber, sat upon
Her bed, and talked of many harmless passages;
But now 'tis night, and a long night with her,
I ne'er shall see these curtains drawn again,
Until we meet in Heaven.—The duke already!

Enter DUKE and LORENZO.

Duke. May I believe?
Lor. Trust me, my lord. hereafter.
Duke. Call me no more thy lord, but thy companion;
I will not wear that honour in my title,
Shall not be thine.—Who's that?
Lor. Her brother Florio.
Duke. She is abed.
Lor. The readier for your pastime.
She means to make a night on't.
Flo. This shall declare thee to posterity
The best of sisters.—What of that? and is not
A brother's life more precious than a trifle?
I prithee do not sigh: how many ladies
Would be ambitious of thy place to-night,
And thank his highness? yes, and virgins too.
Duke. He pleads for me.
Lor. He will deserve some office 'bout your person.
Duke. With what words
Shall I express my joy?
Lor. I leave you, sir, to action; Florio
Is soon dismissed. [Exit.
Flo. He's come: good night—
Duke. Florio!
Flo. [Coming forward.]—Your slave.
Duke. My friend!
Thou shalt be near our bosom.
Flo. Pleasures crown
Your expectation! [Exit.
Duke. All perfect; till this minute, I could never
Boast I was happy: all this world has not
A blessing to exchange: this world! 'tis Heaven;
And thus I take possession of my saint:
[Goes up to the bed.
Asleep already? 'twere great pity to
Disturb her dream, yet if her soul be not
Tired with the body's weight, it must convey
Into her slumbers I wait here, and thus
Seal my devotion. [Kisses the corpse.]—What winter dwells
Upon this lip! 'twas no warm kiss; I'll try
Again—[Kisses it again.]—the snow is not so cold; I have
Drunk ice, and feel a numbness spread through all
My blood at once.—Ha! let me examine
A little better; Amidea! she is dead, she is dead!
What horror doth invade me?—Help, Lorenzo!
Murder! where is Lorenzo?

Re-enter LORENZO with PETRUCHIO.

Lor. Here, my lord.
Duke. Some traitor's hid within the chamber; see, My Amidea's dead!

Lor. Dead! 'tis impossible, [Goes up to the bed.
Yet, she has a wound upon her breast.
Duke. I prithee kill me:— [They stab him.
Ha! wilt thou murder me, Lorenzo?—Villain!—
[To PETRUCHIO.
Oh, spare me to consider; I would live
A little longer: treason!
Lor. A little longer, say you?
It was my duty to obey you, sir.
Pet. Let's make him sure, my lord.
Lor. What would you say?—No ears but ours
Can reach his voice;—but be not tedious.
Duke. Oh, spare me; I may live, and pardon thee:
Thy prince begs mercy from thee, that did never
Deny thee any thing; pity my poor soul;
I have not prayed.
Lor. I could have wished you better
Prepared, but let your soul e'en take his chance.
[Stabs him again.
Duke. No tears prevail! oh, whither must I wander?
Thus Cæsar fell by Brutus. I shall tell
News to the world I go to, will not be
Believed, Lorenzo killed me.
Lor. Will it not?
I'll presently put in security. [Stabs him again.
Duke. I am coming, Amidea, I am coming.—
For thee, inhuman murderer, expect
My blood shall fly to Heaven, and there inflamed,
Hang a prodigious meteor all thy life,
And when by some as bloody hand as thine
Thy soul is ebbing forth, it shall descend
In flaming drops upon thee: oh, I faint!—
Thou flattering world, farewell! let princes gather
My dust into a glass, and learn to spend
Their hour of state, that's all they have; for when
That's out, Time never turns the glass agen. [Dies.
Lor. So!
Lay him beside his mistress; hide their faces.
The duke dismissed the train came with him?
Pet. He did, my lord.
Lor. Run to Sciarrha, pray him come and speak with me;
Secure his passage to this chamber: haste!—
[Exit PETRUCHIO.
He's dead; I'll trust him now, and his ghost too;
Fools start at shadows, I'm in love with night
And her complexion.

Re-enter PETRUCHIO.

Pet. My lord, he's come without your summons.
Lor. Already? leave us. [Exit PETRUCHIO.

Enter SCIARRHA and FLORIO.

Welcome, let embraces
Chain us together.—Noble Florio, welcome:—
But I must honour thy great soul.
Sci. Where's the duke?
Lor. They are abed together.
Sci. Ha!
Lor. He's not stirring yet:
Thou kill'dst thy sister, didst not?
Sci. I preserved her.
Lor. So! it was bravely done.
Sci. But where's the wanton duke?
Lor. Asleep, I tell you.
Sci. And he shall sleep eternally.
Lor. You cannot wake him; look you.
[Leads SCIARRHA up to the bed.
Sci. Is he dead?
Lor. And in his death we two begin our life
Of greatness, and of empire; nay, he's dead.
Sci. That labour's saved.
Lor. Now I pronounce, Sciarrha,
Thy pardon, and to recompense thy loss,
The share of Florence; I'll but wear the title,
The power we'll divide.
Sci. I like this well:
You told a tale once of a commonwealth,
And liberty.
Lor. It was to gain a faction
With discontented persons, a fine trick
To make a buz of reformation.
My ends are compassed; hang the ribble rabble!
Sci. Shall we sweat for the people? lose our breath
To get their fame?
Lor. I'll have it given out
The duke did kill thy sister.
Sci. Excellent!
Lor. Having first ravished her: he cannot be
Too hateful; it will dull the examination
Of his own death; or, if that come to question—
Sci. What if I say, I killed him in revenge
Of Amidea? they will pity me;
Beside, it will be in your power to pardon
Me altogether.
Lor. Most discreetly thought on.
Sci. The devil will not leave us o' the sudden.
Lor. Rare wit!—
How hastily he climbs the precipice,
From whence one fillip topples him to ruin. [Aside.
We two shall live like brothers.
Sci. Stay; we two?—
Now I consider better, I have no mind
To live at all—and you shall not—
I'll give you proof; if you but make a noise,
You gallop to the devil.
Lor. I'm betrayed.
Sci. To death inevitable.—Brother, be you
Spectator only.
Lor. This is somewhat noble.
Sci. Thank me not, Lorenzo; I will not engage
His innocence to blood.—Thy hands are white,
Preserve them, Florio, and unless my arm
Grow feeble, do not interpose thy sword,
I charge thee.
Lor. None to assist me? help, Petruchio! help!
[They fight.

Enter PETRUCHIO, and offers to run at SCIARRHA, but is intercepted
by FLORIO. He runs out, crying Help! FLORIO makes fast the door.

Stretch thy jaws wider, villain! cry out Murder!
Treason! anything; hold—oh!
Sci. Will you not fall, colossus?
[LORENZO falls, and dies.
Flo. Are not you hurt?
Sci. I know not. Ha? yes, he has pricked me somewhere,
But I'll make sure of him; [Stabs him again.]—Now must I follow:
I'll fight with him in the t'other world—thy hand,
Florio; farewell. [Dies.
Flo. He's dead too? 'tis in vain for me to fly.
[Within.] Break ope the doors!
Flo. You shall not need. [Opens the door.

Re-enter PETRUCHIO, with COSMO, ALONZO, FREDERICO, and Guard.

Alon. Disarm him.
Cos. Lorenzo and Sciarrha slain?
Alon. Where is the duke?
Pet. Look here, my lords.
Alon. What traitor?
Fred. See, Amidea murdered too.
Cos. I tremble; here is a heap of tragedies.
Alon. We must have an account from Florio.
Flo. He can inform you best that brought you hither.
Alon. Lay hands upon Petruchio! disarm him!
Cos. What blood is that upon his sword? 'tis fresh.
Pet. I'm caught.
Cos. To tortures with him.
Pet. Spare your fury; know
'Twas the best blood in Florence: I must quit
Young Florio; Lorenzo, and myself,
Are only guilty of the prince's death.
Alon. Inhuman traitors!
Cos. But who killed Amidea?
Flo. The duke's lust:
There was no other way to save her honour;
My brother has revenged it here, but fate
Denied him triumph.
Alon. I never heard
Such killing stories; but 'tis meet we first
Settle the state.—Cosmo, you are the next
Of blood to challenge Florence.
Cos. Pray defer
That till the morning. Drag that murderer
To prison.—Florio, you must not expect
Your liberty, till all things be examined.—
Lorenzo, now I am above thy malice,
And will make satisfaction to Oriana.—
'Tis a sad night, my lords; by these you see
There is no stay in proud mortality. [Exeunt.

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