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
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
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
Honour was ingag'd by Vows Like Flax my jealous temper caught the Flame And scarce could all her melting sorrows quench me Mach. I do remember well Borg. But now I have enjoy'd her mark me Machiavel If I was Flax before I am Powder now And will fly up in general Conflagration For I would chuse to scramble at a Door Make my loath'd Meals out of the common Basket With Dungeon Villains wallow in the Stews And get my Bread by poysoning my firm Limbs E'â—e pass an hour with her I have Espous'd If but in thought consenting with another Mach. I am glad to find the Genius of your Climate Inflames you thus my Lord give me your Hand Prepare your Soul gather your Nobler Spirits And bid ' â—m stand to Armâ— like Towns besieg'd That must receive no Quarter Borg. Let me go So deep thou threaten'st that I feâ—r ev'n thee And from this moment like the fearful Plant Shrink back my Arms from every Human touch But speak I charge thee slip the strugling Thunder And foil my Soul Mach. This Morning just before you enter'd here I saw in haste Adorna cross the Garden And as she ran a Note dropt from her Bosom Which I took up and in it read these words Mourn not my dear Palante for the time Draws on â—hen spite of this inhumane Borgia We will be happy Borg. Yes she shall she shall I 'll joyn 'em Breast to Bosom stab 'em through And clinch my Dagger on the other side Mach. This as I oft perus'd in great amazement I saw her who had miss'd the Note come back And briefly let her know that I had read it With Menaces unless she told me all Immediately to carry you the Letter Why should I rack you longer your Chaste Wife Has with the help of this her Kinswoman Concluded on the date of your first absence To admit your Brother Borg. 'T is impossible 'T is mountainous to Faith I 'll not believe it For Hell it self ne're teem'd with such a falshood Enter Adorna Mach. Ha as I live just from Palante now The private way from his Apartment see Their Emissary comes Borg. O thou vile Bawd Thou Midnight Hag thou most Contagious Blast Which Bellamira with a Strumpets breath Blows to Palante and he back to her Whence com'st thou speak what bear'st thou Ha produce it Or I will tear thee Limb from Limb. Adorn O Heav'ns I am betray'd undone for ever ruin'd and I shall lose my life Borg. Thou shalt be safe I swear thou shalt if thou confess the truth But if thou hide ought from me I will rack thee Till with thy horrid Groans thou wake the Dead Adorn O my Lord I do confess that Bellamira sent meâ— But sure no harâ— was in the Letter Borg. None None at all Hell knows her Innocence But speak Adorn I have my Lord confess'd already All that I know to my Lord Machiavel Borg. Thou ly'st damn'd Wretch look here and dare not urge me Show me the Answer to the Morning Message Or I will cut thee to Anatomy And sâ—arch through all thy Veins to find it out Adorn O save my life behold my Lord this Paper What it conâ—ains I know not Borg. 'T is his hand Mach. Be gone and on thy life no talk of this Ex. Adorna Borg. reads Palante waits upon your motion Death and Devils And when you call he comes or the long sleep Shall hush him ever Daggers Poyson Fire Tears the Letter Woe and ten thousand horrours on their Souls Mach. What now my Lord Borg. Off or I 'll stab thee through Stab I could mangle tear up my own Breast Drag forth my heart that holds her bleeding Image And dash it in her face Mach. Talk no more on 't but do Sir do Borg. Yes Machiavel I will I will do deedâ— Grain'd as my wrongs I will I will be bloody As Pyrrhus daub'd in Murder at the Altar As Tullia driving through her Fathers Bowelsâ— As Caesar Butchers in the Capitol As Nero bâ—thing in his Mothers Womb With all succeeding Tyrants down to ours Lords of the Inquisition black Contrivers Of Princes Deaths and Heads of Massacres Orsino Vitellozzo Duke Gravina Oliverotto too all all at once Even the whole Race a Hecatomb to Vengeance Mach. Hear me one word Borg. Bid the Sea listen when the weeping Merchant To gorge its ravenous Jaws hurls all his Wealth And stands himself upon the splitting Deck For the last plunge No more let 's rush together For Death rides Post. Mach. Though Death should meet me More horrid then you Name I 'd cross this fury This blind ungovern'd rage Sir you shall hear me Borg. Barr'st thou my Vengeance Mach. No I 'll further it You shall have proof so plain the World shall say The Pope himself dear as he loves your Brother Shall say the stroke was just This Night I 'll bring you Into her Chamber if with some pretence You seem t' absent your self my Lord I 'll bring you With a false Key into the Bridal Lodging Where you shall see even with those eyes behold And gaze upon their curst incestuous Loves Borg. Just reeking from my arms O thou Adulteress Whose Name to mention sure would rot my Lungs And blister up my Tongue Insatiate Scylla Bark'st thou for more then let the Furies seize thee Whose burning Lust damns to the lowest Hell Smoaks to the Heav'ns and sullies all â—he Stars Mach. Compose your looks smooth down that starting hair And dry your eyes with spiâ—e of this distraction I see are full brim full of gushing tears Borg. Had she not fall'n thus O ten thousand Worlds Could not have balanc'd her for Heav'n is in her And joys which I must never dream of more I weep 't is true But Machiavel I swear They 're Tears of Vengeance drops of liquid fire So Marble weeps when Flames surround the Quarry And the pil'd Oaks spout forth such scalding Bubbles Before the general blaze for that she dies Though clinging to the Altar Guâ—rdian Gods Though starting from their Shrines shall not redeem her Mach. Pretend to night nor is it bare pretence For as I hear the Sinigallian Victors Come on to wait you here Pretend to her To Bellamira you can scarce return In forty hours Borg. I will do what I may Mach. Away then Borg. Ha! methinks thou dost not share In my resentment Machiavel as thou ought'st If thou art my Friend and art indeed concern'd Relieve my weari'd fury beat my Vengeance Call up a friendly rage and curse e'm Machiavel Curse these Triumphers o're thy Borgia's ruine Mach. Diseases wait 'em Wherefore should I curse ' em If that my Breath were sulph'rous as the Lightning That murders wiâ—h a blast or like the Vapours The choaking stench which those that die of Plagues Sâ—nd with their parting groans then I would curse â—â—m Wiâ—h Accents â—hat should poyson frâ—m my Tongue Deliver'd strongly through my gnashing Teeth More haâ—sh more horrible â—â—d morâ—