Mothers eat their Brothers and Sisters For half the sum what twenty thousand Crowns Away away Come come pull out his eyes And make a Cupid of the little Bastard I swear thou shalt what twenty thousand Crowns Alonz. My Lord I am Charm'd Enter Machiavel and Adorna Ascan. My good Lord Machiavel Mach. My Noble Lord The humblest of your Servants Ex. Now my Adorna now the time is coming When thou shâ—lt Rival ev'n the Queen of Love For by my life a Bâ—idegroom like Palante Mighâ— match an Empreâ—s But he 's thine no more I 've sworn he 's thine This dâ—y that gives his Brother Thy beauâ—ious Cousin is the Blest Fore-rnnner Of my Adorna's certain happiness Ador. Heav'n only knows the issue of my Faâ—e But did not love and languishing desire Transport me from my self I should endeavour To help the poor desparing Bellamira Not many hours ago she ran upon me With Extasies even crying out â—or joy In spite of Fate Palante shall be mine Then told me all that you discouâ—st but now When on that minuâ—e cruel Borgia entr'd With old Orsino who commanded her I'â—h ' mid'st oâ— prayers and tears and shrinking sorrows Sâ—raâ—t to attend her Husband to the Temple Mach. Excellent And how bears Palante this Adorn So much the worse because quite unexpected And while I told it in most moving termâ— Hâ— struck his Breast and cast his eyes â—o Heav'n Enquir'd for you then â—alkâ— of blood and vanish'd Mach. I have been ever since I came to Rome A Confidâ—nt to both I like the Meâ—hod The Machine mâ—ves exactly to my mind Sails like a Ship well ballast through the Air And ploughs the rising mischiâ—â—s clear before me I 've heard thee often talk of pretty Letters That past between Palanâ—e and thy Cousin Ador. I have 'em all in keeping by her order Mach. Let me peruse ' em Adorn Will you be secret then Mach. Away and fear not they shall make thy Fortune Soon as the Marriage Rites are past we 'll meet Ex. Adorna But lo they come The Duke of Gandia frowns I fear my Caesar and must watch their clashing Scene draws and discovers the Progress of a stately Marriage Ascanio Adrian Enna Cardinals going before Orsino following Bellamira supported by two Virgins in White Borgia follow'd by Vitellozzo Alonzo c. Gand. Sir I must speak with you Borg. 'T is inconvenient Gand. 'T is not our first of Jars Remember Lucrece Our Sister Lucrece and be then parswaded Necessity requires yourea Boâ—g For what Gand. if you dare walk aside with me I 'll tell you Borg. After the Priest Gand. No Sir before the Priest Fate hovers near us you shall give me hearing Borg. What Boy how say'st thou shall Gand. Yes Sir you shall Borg. No more for fear we should be over-heard I 'll instantly return upon my Honour Let me but wait Orâ—â—no to the Gate And I 'll attend thee on my word I will The Priest shall wait till thou have satisfaction Ex. all but Mach. and Gand. Mach. What have you said my Loâ—d Gand. Forebear to know I think thou lov'st me yet a proof were well And since occasion now demands a tryal Refuse not what my Friendship shall enjoyn thee Mach. 'T is granted though the consequence be death Gand. Begon â—his moment leave me to my self Mach. I apprehend Let me imbrace you Why shall I leave you but my word 's ingag'd Call all those pow'rful provocaâ—ions upâ— Your wrongs your most ignoble injuâ—ies To steel your aâ—m and dye your Vicâ—ory In blood I go because you grow impatient No more but Conquâ—st Death or Bellamira Yet I must watch you hereabouts For Borgia Though skill'd and gallant yet may meet his Death And that I must prevent for I 'll allow no stroke To Chance though my undaunted Hero dares all That Man can dare Ex. Mach. Gand. Why comes he not I know he 's brave Renown'd in Foreign Wars And to his skill in Arms has such a Courage As makes a rash man run upon his ruine Yet in his height of fury I can dare him My blood defies him mortally to death Yes Machiavel I 'll take thy fatal counsel The word is Conquest Death or Bellamira Enter Borgia Borg. So Sir you see I have obey'd your Summons You must be satisfi'd though Beauty stays Though the Bride stays though Bellamira stays That is tho Heav'n with all its waiting glories Stops at your call and stands to give you hearing Gand. Y'have us'd me basely Borg. No. Gand. I say you have Without a provocation Borg. That were base Indeed when unprovok'd I do a wrong May I when justly urg'd want due revenge Gand. Y'have falsifi'd your word betray'd me basely Betray'd a Brother O my Stars a Brother That would have burst through all the bars of death And yeilded all things to you but his Love O foolish eyes but these are your last tears And I must mend your course with blood Borg. He weeps Was ever seen Hypocrisie like this Aside O thou young impudent and blooming lyar Who like our Curtezans are early practis'd And in their Nonage taught the Arts of Vice But I forgo my temper Is this all You know I am in haste and cannot brook A longer Conference Gand. I know you cannot But I shall force you yes thou Tyrant Brother Thou that art fallen from all the height of glory To the low practice of the worst of Slaves I will revenge the honour thou hast lost Nor shalt thou pass to Bellamira's Arms Till through my heart thou cutt'st thy horrid way Draw then Borg. I will not Gand. By Revenge and Fury Thou shalt not pass but on my Rapiers point Borg. Think not thou youâ—g Practitioner in Arms That all thy force thou levell'd at me naked Should stop me if I once resolv'd my way But I am calm and wish thee for thy safety To let me pass Thou talk'st awhile ago Of Lucrece but no more of that my Father O fear'd I not his Thunder which so oft Has menac'd me if e're I rose against thee Long long e're this had'st thou been dust even now For that abuse which late thou gav'st my ear For that abhorr'd Conception of my Sister For that damn'd mention by the lowest Hell And by the burning Friends thou should'st be Ashes Gand. Blush not nor purse thy threatning Brow but draw And dare not to despise the weakest arm That trickles with Justice Yes upon thy breast Elate and haughty as thou carriest it I doubt not but my Sword shall write thee Traytor Borg. No more O tâ—at I had Some one Renown'd and winter'd as my self T' encounter like an Oak the rooting Storm But thou art weak and to the Earth wilt bend With my least blast thy Head of Blossoms down If by thy hand I fall as who e're div'd So deep in Fate but sometimes was deceiv'd I do bequeath thee more than all my Dukedoms Far more indeed than Worlds my beauteous Bride But if
his War-like Bosom And turning him new bent for Arms and Gloryâ— Ha! What new Scene of Gallantry is thiâ— Whence and from whom comes this Magnificence And wherefore kneel these Offerers at my Feet Alonz. They are the Children of the new-found World The Forms of Zâ—mâ—s call'd the Indian Gods Mach. Away with 'em and bid 'em tell their Lord Machiavel's Virtue never shall be brib'd And for their service give 'em twenty Crowns But if thou darest to rob 'em of a Spangle You know my humour never see me more Alonz. Doubt not my Lord but I 'll observe your humour Come in my Lord I told you he would melt Sir the great Cardinal So now they cringe What and embrace too Oh thou damn'd damn'd World These will be heard and make your Statesman smile When Orphans Widows and the crippled Souldiers Are Elbow'd off and thrust away in frowns Exit with the Boysâ— Mach. My Lord you make me wonder Sure you 've been In love your self with old Orsino's Daughter Ascan. Lov'd her my Lord witness these falling tears Why do you thaw my Nature with your Questions Witness bright Stars witness you golden Planetsâ— And all ye Woods and all ye purling Streams And Birds and Flocks and Grots and Rocks and Flow'rs Nay Sir I tell you she was mine betroth'd If I could cast my Coat which had been done For nothing tickles the present Pope like Gold Dazâ—es him that he weeps Indulgences Forgives absolves all for Omnipotent Gold Dispenses Pardons sometimes in a fury He sends his Bulls abroad that roar like Thunder When strait a golden Calm Comes o're their backs and then they 're still as Lambs Why should I hold you long amongst the rest That saw her Borgia that unlucky Bastard Beheld and lov'd her I my Lord was ruin'd Mach. My Lord I wish the Marriage may not prosperâ— He 's bent to enjoy her and in that I sooth him For subtly offering once to bring him off I found pale anger in his Face like Death Whereon I feign'd compliance and have wrought The business to a head But let time work And rest assur'd that what so mean a man As Machiavel with honour can perform To pay you perfect Service shall be done Ascan. My Lord farewel when I protest and swear Ev'n by the Altar of fair Bellamira My life is yours Believe I am your Servant Not a step further by my Robe your Captive Your Eminence most humble Creature Servant Slave Ex. Ascanio Mach. I am ty'd for ever Walking No dull Buffoon thou walking lump of Lust Not to revenge thy ungor'd appetite Shall Borgia kill her But for his own Renown He is my Champion-prince Italian Tyrant Not form'd to languish in a Womans Arms. Oh 't is a fault were I so fram'd for greatness E're I would amble in a Female Court And cringe and skip and play the Ladies Cripple I would be Gibbetted i' th' Common-way For Crows and Daws to peck my Carrion Limbs But I must rouze him and I 'll do 't by Death Ev'n by the bloody Death of her he doats on Enter Adorna Here 's one Ingredient I must mix to make The potion Death The Wretch is deep in Love With Borgia's Brother the young Duke of Gandia That way I make her sure Ador. My Lord. Mach. My dear Adorna How goes the marriage forward and how treats The gallant Borgia great Valentinois Romania's Duke his fair and Virgin Bride Ador. The Rites are to be solemniz'd this morning Tho' Bellamira quite abhors the Marriage Who still when Borgia humbly sues for Love Answers him with her Tears and pays his Vows With Ominous weeping Mach. And how takes he that Ador. He walks and muses deeply speaks to no man But Paul Orsino whose most watchful wit I fear descries where she has lockt her heart With a bent brow he eyes the Duke of Gandia Salutes him not of late He came this morning Into her Chamber dreadful was his action Unworthy of my blood he thundred out But if the generous Borgia is refus'd Think not of Gandia but of blood and death Mach. What inauspicious Chance discovered to him A secreâ— which I thought concealâ—d from all But thee and me and those unhappy Lovers Ador. I cannot guess he paus'd a while then sigh'd And starting up in fury charg'd her rise Receive he cry'd receive him as a Husband Whom the selected vertues of thy Sex Can ne're deserve adorn thee like a Bride And meet him tho thy Treacherous heart is Mortgag'd Meet him at least with well dissembled Love Or by my hopes I 'll wreke my anger on thee With all the Torments that Italian Fury Could e're invent for an Adulterous Wretchâ— He cry'd I will and after make thee nothing Mach. Haste thee away charm with thy utmost skill The mourning Bellamira to obey him The knot once ty'd Gandia will soon despair Leave me to work him then Millions to one But I shall make him thine Ador. But did Duke of Gandia once protest Mach. Protest He did protest and swear and vow Go go and haste for the day grows upon us Ex. Adornaâ— His Brother too this Duke of Gandia bleeds For he is grown of late the Romans darling Warm'd in the very Bosom of the Pope And dearer than my Borgia to his Sister The famous Lucrece who can charm her Father In all the heat of Excommunications When he throws Bulls like Thunderbolts about him She like a Venus to his angry Iove Moves with incestuouâ— Fires folds her white arm About his chafing Neck strokes his black Beard And smooths his furrow'd Cheeks to dimpled smiles The Brothers too enjoy'd her O Heav'n and Earthâ— Not the first day after such infinite time That Motion had th' irregular matter rowl'd When all the wandring Atoms hit at last Into this beauteous form even when our Sires First mingled was there such a loose of Nature Such a triumvirate of Lawless Lovers Such Rivals as out-do even Lucian's Gods Ha! the Orsini here and the Vitâ—lli They move this way in murmuring Cabals Methinks Death darkenâ— every Visâ—ge there 'T is so They are no more Or this is true Or Machiavel knows nothing of Man-kind Ex. Mach. Enter Orsino Viâ—ellozzo Ascanio Adrian Enna Ange three Cardinals Oliverotto Gravina Vitel. I say agen I do not like the Marriage Were Bellamira mine I 'd sell her off For Gold I 'd merchandize her tender beauty With Infidels and send her to the Turk Like an Andromada to gorge the Monster Rather than to wed her to perfidious Borgia Orsin You are too violent Vital I think not so A drowning man will grasp at any thing Nay sink his Friend that leap'd among the Waves To give him life but yon tho in the gulph Ride on to ruine tho your Friends call out Ang. Nay though they point the Whirle-pool just before you That would devour us all Adrian Besides 't is Impious Against all Right of Nature Law of Reason To act the Tyrant o're a Daughters
for your sake And charm his pains but with one parting view Before your Lord return Bella. Alas I dare not Mach. He graspt me by the wrist and weeping vow'd 'T would be a Heav'n a Lightning in his Grave Where else he must for ever lye unpiti'd Now on my Soul you must you ought to see him Who ballancing the Scales of doubtful life Lies in your way a glance one grain of favour Turns him from Death Come come you must have mercy Madam I 'll wait and intercept your Lord. Bella. A Visit just upon our Marriage too But 't is the last that he shall e're receive Therefore I 'll go Nature Compassion Fate And Love far more tyrannical than those Forces me on I feel him here he throbs And beats a Mournful March Mach. Fear not away I 'll guard the passage look not back but haste Ex. Bellamira If I remember story well old Rome Was free from all this weakness of the mind For Women oh how slightly were they thought of When the great Cato gave his Friend his Wife To breed him his Heirs because she was a Teemer And after he was dead again receiv'd her This was before the Vandals made us Slaves Who mingling with our Wives begot a Race That nothing holds of the old Lyon Glory Enter Borgia But hush more work and now I am compos'd Borg. Welcom my best of Friends my Machiavel Let me unlade on thee my fraught of joy For Bellamira's mine her Vows are mine Her Father gave her and the Holy man Has liâ—k'd our Hands Fortune perhaps e're long May joyn our hearts However dearly bought I say she 's mine Mach. However dearly bought Borg. True Machiavel most dearly but alas He that would reach the Mine must burst the Quarry And labâ—ur to the Center Ha thou' rt cold Sâ—art from this Lethargy and tell me why Why dost thou shake my joys wiâ—h that stern look Speak for to me thy Face is as the Heav'ns And when thou smil'st I cannot fear a Storm But now thy gather'd brows prognosticate Ill weather Lightning sparkles from thy Eyes Speak too though thunder follow Mach. On what conditions had the Prince his life Borg. It was agreed betwixt us solemnly And bound by Oath that he was subdu'd Should never speak to Bellamira more Mach. I am satisfi'd Borg. O Machiavel is this friendly To hide the Cause of thy disorder from me Thou said'st I am satisfied but at that moment I saw two furies leap from thy red Eyeâ— That said thou' rt not thou art not satisfi'd This coldness of thy Carriage this dead stillness Makes me more apprehend than all the noise That mad-men raise Speak then but do not blast me Speak by degrees let the Truth break away In oblique sounds for if it come directly I fall at once split ruin'd dash'd for ever So little am I Master of my Passion Mach. Therefore I dare not tell you Borg. Therefore 't is horrid ah Monstrous 't is so therefore thou darst not tell me But speak though trembling thuâ— from head to foot I will be calm press down the rising sighs And stifle all the swellings in my heart I will be Master far as Nature can Mach. If that you knew such Fire was in your temper And thus would burn you up why would you marry Borg. Because resistless Love resistless Bâ—auty Hurry'd me on But speak thou staâ—'st me off If thou hast Sense of Honour tell me Machiavel Speâ—k I conjure thee as thou arâ— my Friend Mach. The fault 's not great and you may pardon it Yet 't was a fault I think where did you leave Your Bride Borg. Why dost thou ask I know not where This way they led her and as I perswaded` Orsino though unwilling judg'd it fit She should retire again to her Apartment That her full grieâ—s might have a time to waste Mach. She is retir'd my Lord. Borg. Ha! whither speak She is retir'd where she should not retire 'T is true most plain most undeniable I know it by the fashion of thy Wit Thy accent swears it mouth thy Tale no more But say distinctly whither she 's retir'd I charge thee pray thee and conjure thee speak For what with whom and on what new occasion Mach. you have a Brother Borg. O the prejur'd Traytor I have what then Mach. She 's with him now Borg. With whom Mach. Why with the Duke of Gandia with your Brother Palente Son or Nephew to the Pope Borg. What Bellamira with him Ponyards Daggers Mach. This way but now I saw her come in haste Whether she guss'd the matter by your Wound I know not but with faultring speech she ask'd How far'd Palante if he were in being Whereon I nothing muâ—'d but in plain terms With moderation told her what I knew But had you seen the starts and stops she made Borg. No doubt she did Ten Thousand Curses oh Go on for yet I am a fangless Lion Macâ— Hâ—d you but heard when first his Wound I mention'd How she â—hâ—â—ek'd ouâ— how oft she forced me swear And swear and swear again it was not mortal Bâ—rg Undone â—or ever O destruction seize her Mach But when I told your hurt she seem'd scarce griev'd And lâ—ssening sorrow yielded to attention I do not say she sâ—aâ—lâ— did rejoice But sure I am she smil'd and touch'd my Hand And begg'd me if you came this way to hold you In talk while to the sick she made a visit Borg. Thy Bosom be my Grave bear me a while Or I shall burst O Bellamira Oh! Mach. Raise raise your self Ha Prince is this the Fire We fâ—ar'd but now that most transporting fury Borg. No more 't is gone O Marriage now I find thee Thou costly Feast on which with fear we feed As if each Golden Dish we taste were poison'd Whâ—re by the fatal Tyranny of Custom Our Honour like a Sword just pointing o're us Hangs by a Hair Ha! but it comes 't is faln Like a forked Arrow stuck into my Skull No more I am deaf as Adders and as deadly Mercy no more thy Voice is quite uncharm'd All piâ—y thus be dry'd from my weak Eyes Here will I look my Mothers softness off And gaze till Souâ—hern Fury steels my Soul Till I am all my Father till his Form All bloody o're from Head to Foot with slaughter Skims o're my pollish'd Blade in frowns to haste me Mach. What mean you Sir Borg. I know not what my self Off from my Arms away I â—ve oftentimes heard At Princes Murders Monstrous Births forbode The Heavâ—ns themselves rain Blood Why let it rain If my Heart holds her purpose with this hand â—â—ll swell the Purple Deluge Vengeance Death and Vengeance Exit Mach. No my brave Warrior 't is not gone so far These starts are but the hasty Harbingers To the slow Murder that comes dragging on The Mischiâ—f's yet but young an Infant Fury 'T is the first brawl of new-born Jealousie But I have Mâ—chiavellian Magick here
I conquer thee and shew thee mercy Never love more nor after I am marri'd Dare for thy Soul to speak of Bellamira Gand. I thank thee and accept the terms with Joy Which blood must ratifieâ— And here I swear If vanquish'd by thy Arm though Death I hope Will more than Oath confirm the fatal bargain For evâ—r to renounce all Claim and yield By my Eâ—ernal absence Bellamira Borg. Come on then And let Love and Glory steell Thy unflesh'd arm think on this moment hangs Thy whole life's Joy or worse than Death Despair I would noâ— win such Beauty without Blood But as the brave Gonsalvo being shot Mov'd not at all nor chang'd his mighty Look As if the Gallantry of such demeanour Could charm coy Victory to raise the Seige So would I with my blood distilling down Answering her tears lead Bellamira on And woo her at the Altar with my wounds Gand. No more Borg. Agreed The word is Bellamira Fight Gandia is wounded Hold hold Palante for thou bleedst Gand. A scratch Borg. My Father crys out save him on thy life Fight again Gand. Guard well thy life Borgia is wounded on the Arm but disarms Gandia Enter Machiavel Mach. What means this noise of Arms Why these Swords drawn what now my Lords Both wounded Borgia throws Gandia his Sword By Heav'n I swear you shall proceed no further Borg. 'T is now too late to tell thee how we quarrell'd Look to his wound soon as the Cure's perform'd I 'll serve the Duke of Gandia with my Fortune But far from Rome for he has agreed Never to see my Bellamira more For me I 'll to the Temple Mach. My Lord you bleed Borg. The Skin 's but rac'd Would it were deep in the most mortal part So Bellamira when the blood gush'd forth Would sink upon my breast and swear she lov'd me But that 's too much to hope what e're is doom'd I swear this night to grasp the conquer'd Prize Yes yes Palante hear and fly for ever All the white World of Bellamira's Beauty This Night I 'll travel o're to feast my Love The Little Glutton shall be gorg'd with Revels He shall be drunk with spirits of delight With all that amorous wishes can inspire And all the Liberties of loose desire Exit Gand. I 'll after him and at the Altar end him Waâ—'t not enough to wound and vanquish me But he must triumph too I rave and talk I know not what for he is generous And nobly merits what his valour won Yes happy Borgia I will keep my word And since thus lost to all that I held dear Abandon this loath'd World Mach. You must retire Gand. I will devote the sad remains of life To the blest Company of holy men Learn Contemplation and the dregs of life Purg'd off taste clearer and more sprightly joys Partake their transports in the brightest Visions See opening Heav'ns and the descending Gods Then as I view the dazling tracks of Angels Sigh to my heart and cry see there and there In full perfection thousand Bellamira's Mach. My Lord your wound bleeds fast Gand. O Machiavel When I am shut for ever from the World Thou tenderst hearted gentlest best of Friends Wilt visit me sometimes I know thou wilt Mach. Why do you droop thus lean upon my Arm All shall be well Yes I will find a way In spite of Fortune yet to heal your sorrows And pour the Balm of Bellamira's tears Upon your wound Gand. Could I but see her once Beâ—ore I die Mach. Once Twice a Hundred times Doubt not you shall but haste to your Apartment Ex. Gandia Methinks if mischief had but this to vaunt That like a God none knows her but her self It were enough to mount her o're the World I love my self and for my self I love Borgia my Prince Who does not love himself Self-love's the Universal Beam of Nature The Axle-tree that darts through all its Frame And he 's a Child in thought who fears the sting Of Conscience and will rather lose himself Than make his Fortune by another's ruine Conscience the Bug-bears roar the Nurses howl Our Infant lash and whip of Education Enter Adornaâ— My Genius my Love my little Angel Hast thou the Letters Adorn First my Lord If I have breath to utter let me tell you Never was Marriage solemniz'd like this Mach. Go on Adorn The Bride in Mourning Robes was led Or rather born like a pale Course along I saw her when she first approach'd the Temple How rushing from the arms of those that held her She threw her Body on the Marble steps When straâ—t the Bridegroom with a kindled Face Draw near and blushing stretcht his bloody Aâ—m Wrapt in a Scarf and gave it to the Bride Then bowing wish'd the Priest perform his Duty Mach. What follow'd Adorn Urg'd or rather brib'd before The Priest at Old Orsino's Intercession Soon joyn'd their Hands all from the Temple haste Oâ—sino and his Son in deep Discourse And Bellamira blind with weeping led This way Mach. I am glad on 't for I wait to speak with her Prithee produce the Letâ—ers Come I know Thou hast 'em nay 't is thy own interest Adorn See Bellamira enters stay some time And I 'll discover to your own desire Enter Bellamira Mach. Madam I would entreat a word in private Bell. Can misery like mine be worth discourse Mach. The dead are only happy and the dying The dead are still and lasting slumbers hold 'em He who is near his Death but turns about Shuffles a while to make his Pillow easie Then slips into his Shroud and rests for ever Bella. My Mind presages by the bloody hand That seiz'd me at the Altar Mach. In their Nonage A Sympathy unusual joyn'd their loves They pair'd like Turtles still together drank Together eat nor quarrell'd for the choice Like Twining-streams both from one Fountain fell And as they ran still mingled smiles and tears But oh when Time had swell'd their Currents high This boundless World this Ocean did divide 'em And now for ever they have lost each other Bella. For ever Oh the horrour that invades me Thou seem'st to imitate some horrid act I charge thee speak how fares the Duke of Gandia Not answer me why dost thou shake â—hy Head And cross thy arms and turn thy eyes away Has there been ought betwixt my Lord and him Mach. There has they fought Bella. The Cause the Cursed Cause Stands here before thy eyes she stands to blast thee I know 't is thus Borgia for me was wounded And oh my fears by his relentless handâ— Perhaps that poor despairing lost Palante Is miserably slain If it be so Spite of my Father I 'll renounce my Vows Forgo forswear all comforts in this life And fly the World Mach. Would I were out on 't Nothing but fraud and cruelties reign here He is not slain but as his Surgeons bode I fear him much Oh would you be so kind To see the Wounds he suffers
make 'em blâ—ze Bella. I 've done my Lord Let me but dry my Eyâ—s and I will wait you To Death or to your Bed Borg. O ill compar'd Be constant Bellamira to thy Vows So shall we shine as in the in-most Heav'n The fixt and brightest Stars with silent glory Where never Storm nor Lightnings flash nor stroak Of Thunder comes but if you fail in ought Then shall we fall like the cast Angels down Never to rise again Therefore I warn thee Bell. Fear not my Lord. Borg. O! I must fear my temper But I will purge it off with resolutionâ— And with a confidence thou wilt be mineâ— For shouldst thou not Hence Gorgon Jealousie Cam'st thou uncall'd to set me on the Rack Be gone I say she 's chaste and I defie thee O plague me Heavenâ— plague me with all the woeâ— That man can suffer root up my possessions Shipwrack my far-sought Ballast in the Haven Fire all my Cities burn my Dukekoms down Let midnight Wolves howl in my Desart Chambers May the Earth yawn shatter the frame of Nature Let the rack'd Orbs in Whirlwinds round me move But save me from the rage of jealous Love Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE I. Soft Musick with an Epithalamium to Borgia and Bellamiraâ— 1 BLush noâ— redder than the Morning Though the Virgins gave you warning Sigh not at the chance befel ye Though they smile and dare not tell ye 2 Maids like Turâ—les love thâ— Cooing Bill and murmur in their Wooing Thus like you they start and tremble And their troubl'd joys dissemble 3 Grasp the pleasure while 't is coming Though your Beauties now are blooming Time at last your joys will sever And they 'l part they 'll part for ever Enter Machiavel and Adorna Mach. SAy'st thou so loving Adorn O! he has got ground Beyond all expectation Had you seen His graceful manner when the sighing Bride Was last night by your Arms given to his Bed When after she was laid quite drown'd in tears How aw'd with trembling he the Curtains drew And kneeling by hâ—r Bed side took her fair hand With which she strove to hide her Blushes from him And sighing swore upon 't if so she pleas'd If her cold heart refuâ—'d him utterly He would forgo his Joys though death ensu'd You muse my Lord. Mach. This day attend my Motion Soon as my purpose hits which you must watch I 'll train the Bridegroom near Palante's Lodgings Whence as you were before by me instructed You with this Letter which from all the Pacquets I chose and notably suits our design Shall issue forth an act as I inspir'd Adorn I fear this business Lest he should kill me in this height of fuâ—y Murder his Brother or his Innocent Lady Mach. I tell thee though a Whirlwind drove him on I 'll make him calm The consequence of this Iâ— thine He drives Palante from the Palace Who else may linger after Bellamira And then thou know'st Adorn I will about it streight If I get clear of this use me no more For I have sworn to cease Mach. Prithee be gone Use me no more For she has sworn to cease Ex. Adorna To dip her Lady â—inger in new mischief Yes thou shalt cease to live when I have us'd thee Poor useless thing But see the Bridegrooms here Enter Borgia My Lord I give you joy your motion gives it Your wondrous gallantry and sprightly action But hâ—s she wholly yielded to your wishes Without the least reserve Borg. Oh! I cannot tell thee ought but this I am happy Above expression blest beyond all hope And sure such perfect joy cannot last long Lest we be Gods O thou great Chymist Nature Who drawst one spirit so sublimely perfect Thou mak'st a Dreg of all the World beside Mach. Why this at first I told you but you fear'd And push'd the blessing from you with both hands I grant you that she lov'd your Brother first I know he 's young and handsom has a Wit Most suitable to Womans inclination A subtle Genius soft and voluble That winds with their discourse and hits the Vein 'T is true you are not of this subtle Mould But if you have enjoy'd her 't is all one My life she loves you so the Act 's resolv'd Leave them to manage O ye know 'em not Those subtle Creatures when necessity Forces compliance in a case like yours Will make the best on 't Borg. How Machiavel the best on 't Ha! how mean'st thou Mach. Why thus she may ev'n Bellamira may Spight of her Fathers will her Vows in Marriage And all her after-Oaths even in your Arms Bestow her self upon the Duke of Gandia Borg. Ha! Mach. I say not pardon me she does or will But to make good my former argument Affirm they may they can they will do thus As for example though your Bellamira Compell'd as all Rome knows to this late Marriage Admits you to her Bed you cannot think But her Palante had been much more welcome Borg. Heav'n Mach. 'T is likely too her Fancy workt that way I urg'd before she took you for Palante 'T is dark she sees you not you are his Brother Form'd in one Womb of the same flesh and blood Therefore she yields as to foreknown Embraces And as you gently draw with trembling arms Her nice Beauties to your heaving Breasts She shuts her eyes with languishing delight And whispers to her heart it is Palante Borg. Cease Machiavel hold as thou lov'st my life I charge thee hold O 't is most true I swear Thou know'st the very depth of Woman-kind They are what thy Imagination paints 'em Charmers and Sorceresses O I 'll tell thee When I the chastest as I thought her thenâ— I am â—ure the sweetest of the Earth imbrac'd 'T was with complainings Machiavel such tremblings I could have sworn her cold as Winter â—â—â—eams But oh the horrours thou hast conjur'd upâ— Soon as soft sleep had seal'd her melting eyes I heard her sigh for till the morn I wak'd Palante Oh what have we done Palante Mach. By Heav'n that was too much Borg. O much much more For stealing nearer me her glowing arm Cast o're my Câ—eek thrice prest me to her Breast Ev'n that coy arm so nicely strange before Familiâ—â— grew and circled in my Neck With all the freedom of acquainted Love And I too piâ—i'd her and thought that Nature Work'd her imperfectly but now I know I find I see it was her hearts design The black contrivance of her blotted Fancy Blood Blood and Death thus has she set me down Through the whole course of her polluted nights To be her Bawd her most industrious Groom The Drudge of her damn'd Lust Palante's stale Mach Are you incens'd indeed or do you Sir Put on this jealous Fit to make you sport For if so small a Spark thus makes you glow A little more will blow you into Flame Therefore be serious in your Answer Borg. Ha! Thou know'st before my Marriage how I fear'd How when my
ouâ—ragious Than Envy in her Cave or Mad-men in their Dens Borg. Excellent Machiavel more more to lull me Mach. My Tongue should stammer in my earnest wordâ— My eyes should spaâ—kle like the beaten Flint Borg. This hoary Hair should start and stand an end And all thy shaking joynts should seem to curse ' em Mach. Nay since you urge me Sir my heart will break Unless I curse ' em Poyson be their drink Borg. Gall and Wormwood Hemlock Hemlock quench ' em Mach. Their sweetest Shade a Dell of duâ—kish Adders Borg. Their fairest Prospect Fields of Basilisks Their softest touch as smart as Vipers Teeth Mach. Their Musick horrid as the hiss of Dragons All the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell Borg. No more thou art one piece with me my self And now I take a pride in my revenge Mach. You bid me ban and will you bid me cease Now by your wrongs that turn my heart to steel Well could I curse away a Winters night Though standing naked on a Mountains top And think it but a minute spent in sport Borg. Thou best of Friends come to my Arms my Brother But the time calls and Vengeâ—nce bids us part Henceforth be thou the Mistress of my Heart Ex. Mach. Now it grows ripe the Orsins and Vitelli Are buri'd by my Wit without a noâ—se O! 't is the safer course for threats are dang'rous But there 's no danger in the Execution For he thaâ—'s dead ne're thinks upon revenge Whaâ— hoa Alonzo Enter Alonzo Alonz. Here my Lord. Mach. Are the Gloves brought I sent to the Perfumers Alonz. They are Mach. Where is Adorna Alonz. She waits without Mach. As you see her enter Bring me the Gloves 'T were easie strangling her But this is quainter O my bright Adorna Enter Adorna With confidence I swear the Duke is thine Adorn May I believe it Mach. Be judge thy self whether I have been idle These were a Present from the King of Spain To the Pope's Niece of whom the fond young Duke Begg'd 'em for thee Adorn Is 't possible Mach. Stay Madam we must change One Present for another Lend me the Key To Bâ—llamira's Chamber Adorn For what Mach. Nay if we baâ—ter words Adorn Here here my Lord. Now give me the dear Present See see my Lord they are emboss'd with Jewels And cast so rich an Odour they o'recome me Help me my Lord O help me lend your Arm The Earth turns round with me O mercy Heaven Dyâ—sâ— Mach. Remove the Body Then haste and find the Duke of Gandia out E're he removes as he intends to night Having Commission from the Pope to lead Th' Italian Armies earnestly entreat him To honour me by making one last Visit Which equally imports him as his life Enter Borgia and Bellamira Borg. Upon the instant Fairest I must leave you The Lord of Firmo with the Duke your Unclâ— Have taken Sinigallia by surprize What else but meeting thy Victorious Kinsmen Should draw me from thy Arms yet thus divided But for a day or two methinks I part As Souls are sever'd from their warmer Mansions To wander in the bleak and desart Air. O Bellamira Bell. Why do you sigh my Lord If 't is your pleasure let 'em wait you here Or if my Presence can dispel these Clouds That make you say I will attend you â—hither For while life lasts I will be all obedience Borg. Could'st thou hold there how might we laugh at Fate So kindled both by Love and by Ambition How would I sweep like Tempests with a waste Over all Italy and Crown the Empress Here in the Heart of Rome my bright Angusta But 't is impossible Bell. Then you conclude my Lord I am not true Borg. Why art thou Is there such a thing in Nature As a true Wife No Bellamira no Thou would'st be monstrous then ev'n to derision For the whole Flock of common Wives would whoot thee And drive thee like a Bird without one Feather Of thy own kind Bell. Once more upon my knees In view of all the Hierarchy of Heav'n I here attend my spotless Innocence Borg. Still Machiavel still let us keep to death Our Principle that we are dust when dead For were there any Hell or any Devil But hot enough to make an Exhortation Would he not fetch her now would he not dam her I do believe thee guiltless Therefore rise But since thou art so confidently clear Swear Bellamira if I prove thee false What e're I threat nay though I put in act Those Menaces thou wilt not call me Tyrant Bell. I swear by Heav'n I will submit my life To the severest stroke of your revenge Borg. If then I prove thee false O Bellamira Not that Celestial Copy ev'n thy Face Shall scape but I will race the Draught as if It ne're had been the pattern of the Gods Bell. Act what you please but speak no more my Lord For every word 's a bolt and strikes me dead Borg. If thou art false and if I prove thee so That skin of thine that matchless West of Heav'n Which some more curious Angel cast about thee Will I tear off though cleaving to the Shrine Bell. Speak to him Machiavel O fatal Marriage Borg. If thou dost play me false think not of mercy Thy Father shall be burnt before thy eyes Bell. O horrid thought Borg. Thy Uncles Brothers Sisters All that have any relish of thy blood I 'll rack to death and throw their Limbs before thee Therefore look to 't beware if thou art false I 'll take thee unprepar'd and sink thy Soul Therefore I say again beware I 've warn'd thee Body and Soul ev'n everlasting ruine For so may Heav'n have mercy upon mine At my last gasp as I 'll have none on thine Exit Bell. O 't is too plain I am lost undone for ever What but one Night ev'n the first Nuptial Night So sought so courted and so hardly won And the next day nay the succâ—eding Morâ— To be us'd thus Let me go let me go For I 'll proclaim him throuâ—h the streets of Rome The Tâ—aytor Moâ—ster O I could shake the world With thundring forth my wrongs Hollow his Name To the resounding Hills Borgia Traytor Borgia Methinks that word that spell that horrid sound That groan of Air could cleave the neighbouring Rocks And scare the babling Ecchoes from their Dens Mach. Perhaps some busie Slave has whisper'd him I know not what that chafes his melancholy Against your Honour Bell. That 's impossible And I deni'd to admit him to my Bed Some seeming cause some reason for distrust Might then be given but the bright Heav'ns know I had resolv'd to take him for my Lord And love him too or force my inclination So subtly had he wrought by deep dissembling Upon my plain and undiscerning weakness But now he 's gorg'd the Monster shews himself Appears all Beast and I must die he cries Ah Cruelty and all my wretched Race Mach. Madam you know how near a