resolv'd nor let a few false Tears Melt you again to an untimely mildness Charlotta thus deluded you in Franâ—e Which render'd all your Court ridiculous Remember that and lest the like disgrace Should happen now drag her if she refuses Borg. I will my Machiavel O Arms O Glory What an Eternal Rust would smear your Luster Did not this Spirit of Ambition fire me I 'll tell her that the lives of all her race Are now within my power Mach. Nay threaten her Borg. I will do more than threaten Think not the dreadful Caesar will be rows'dâ— To threaten only that 's a sleeping Borgia A loving dreaming Conscientious Borgia But when I wake there 's always Execution Mach. It has been so Borgia And shall I swear again No Machiavel she must be mine or dye Should she for refuge to the Temple flie I 'd after her there if she scorns my flame To the dumb Sainâ—â— I will my Vows proclaim And in their view resolve the glorious game Upon the Golden Shrines I 'll lay her head And ev'n the Altar make my Bridâ—l Bed Ex. Ambo ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Orsino and Bellamiâ—â— in Mourning Orsino WHERE didst thou get the daring thus to move me â— By thy dead Mothers shrowd not the first Night When in my Youâ—hful arms I grasp'd her to me Was I so hot with Love as now with rage Thou Young and Virgin Witch thou new-found Fury Bella. Ah Sir for Iâ—am afraid to call you Father Give me my Death give to these trembling breasts A thousand wounds or cut me Limb from Limb But do not look so dreadâ—ully upon me Nor blast me with such sounds Oh pity me There 's not one faâ—al sentence one dread VVord But runs like Iron through my freezing blood VVhat have I done Ah what is my offence And tell me how which way I shall aâ—one you Orsin O thou vile wretch what is thy offence Dost thou not know it Exquisite dissembler Thou leading Sorc'ress Hecat of thy Sex Subtlest of all thy kind that ever rowld Their false deluding eyes and in their Glasses Conjur'd for looks to cheat the simple world But to take all evasion from thy guilt Did I not charge thee as thou fear'st my curse This very Morning to adorn thy self As one whom the great Duke intends to honour By makiâ—g thee his Bride Bell. Alas you did And I am come Oh Heaven and all you Powers That pity womans weakness I am come My Lord as you commanded and have vow'd Tho Death atends my Nuptials to obey you Orsin Thou ly'st even in thy heart thou know'st thou ly'st Thou hast maliciously most grosly fail'd In this obedience Say declare haste â—nswer Thou most ungrateful wretch Ah how unlike Thy meek thy Perfect bright and blessed Mother Is this a habit for a glorious Bride Dost thou thus meet the generous Borgia I know thy awkard Heart thou meanst by this To tell the VVorld thou dost not like thy Husband And dash him at the Altar but by Heav'n Whither thou Murdress now art sending mâ— This shall not serve thy purpose In this dress That blasts my eyes and strikes my Soul with sadness I 'll see the Priest for ever make you one Bellam. Ah! how have I deseâ—v'd this cruel usagâ— Did ever Daughter yet obey like me Not she who in the Dungeon fed her Father With her own Milk and by her Piety Sav'd him from Death can match my rigorous Vertue For I have done much more torn off my Breasts My Breasts my very Heart and flung it from me To feed the Tyrant Duty with my blood Orsin Call'st thou the lawful Imposition of A careful Father that intends thee honour Tyrannical and bloody Rage resume me Here seest thou this O would the gallant Borgia Could fling thee from his Soul as I from mine For 't is respect to him that saves thy life Else by the Feaver that quite burns me up I 'd ponyard thee till all thy Robes were Crimson Yet since thou hast the Impudence to brave me And câ—ll thy Father Tyrant to his face I that have foster'd thee even from the Womb And bred thee in my Bosom hear and tremble For I will curse thee till thy frighted Soul Runs mad with horrour till thy Mother starts From her cold Monument to beg me cease Though all in vain Bâ—llam I cast me at your feet I 'm all Obedience See Sir see me here Grovelling upon the Earth Orsin Curs'd be the Night Ten thousand Curses on that fatal hour When my great Spirit trifled with thy Mother For the Production of so false a Joy Bellam. O horrid blasting breath Orsin When I am dead My troubled Ghost shall nightly haunt thy Dreamâ— Bellam. Ah hold I kiss your feet and hug your kneeâ— Orsin Though in thy Husbands Arms I 'll draw the Curtainsâ— And stare thee into Frenzy and thy Lord I 'll Charm so fast thy shrieks shall not awake him Bellam. Yet Sir forbear tread on me trample me Orsin And all the day when other Spirits sleep I 'll follow thee with groans and curse thee still Nay when thou seek'st for company to scape me I 'll make thee scream See there his Spirit stands Bellam. Hear him not Heav'n Orsin After thy first imbrace May thy Lord loath thee swear thou art no Virgin And cast thee off as a most leud Adulteress Bellam. If there be Saints or Angels Oh I charge you Orsin Or if thy Husband should by chance retain thee Heart-burnings Jealousies incite him still To plague thee with a Thousand Hells on Earth And after end thee in some horrid manner Bellam. Ponyard me as you promis'd Sir Oh stab me Orsin Eternal Barrenness shut up thy Womb If ought that 's humane chance to raise thy hopeâ— May it be monstrous at the curst Production An after birth or some abhorr'd Conception Enter Duke of Gandia in Mourning Bellam. Y'have said enough my heart my spirits fail me And I have now my wish without a Dagger Orsin What now another Mourner Hell and Furies They both have plotted to undo my Honour Well Duke of Gandia but I 'll call the Bridegroom Gand. Ha! how 's this the beauteous Bellamira Upon the Earth Help help my Lord she 's cold Your Daughter Swoons Orsin I care not let her perish And thou who hast seduc'd her perish with her Swoon with her sink with her Die both and both be damn'd Ex. Orsino Gand. Wake Bellamira from this sleep of Death Life of Palante's life give me a word See thou art safe clasp'd in thy Gandia's Arms Palantâ— holds thee Say what Murderer Offer'd this cruelty and I 'll revenge thee Bellam. Where am I ha loose loose me from your arms Stand off fly from me fly Palante fly For we must never never meet agen The Poles may sooner joyn O I am lost By an inexorable Father ruin'd Cursed blasted and for thee unhappy Prince Thou hast undone me though not by thy will For sure thou lov'st the wretched
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 owe the best of Fathers best of Friends This day this glorious day for ever blest And never to be lost in Times dark Legend Crowns me your Son Thus then I bend my kneesâ— Which are not us'd to kneel but at the Altar And O! permit me thus to kiss your Hand And pay the Eternal Vows of my Obedience Orsin O rise my Lord all Duâ—y is out done Wiâ—h but one single bare Acknowledgment Yâ—t for a satisfaction to this Company Say do you love my Daughter Bellamira Bâ—rg Ha! what says my Father do I live O Heaven Why do you wound me with the Question Does the poor suff'ring Fair One Vertue love Who drinks the Brook and eaâ—s what Nature yields Rather than feast in Courts wiâ—h loss of Honour Do those who on the Rack for Heav'n expire Love Angels and Eternal brightness there 'T is sure they do And oh 't is full as sure That Caesar Borgia dies for Bellamira Orsin No more you Honour her and me too muchâ— Therefore this day I give her to your Arms With all the pleasure of a proud old Father O'rejoy'd to see his Daughter match'd above him By Heav'n my eyes grow full here all our Discord For ever end all Jars betwixt the Orsins Vitelli and the Duke of Valentinois Be bury'd ever in this strict Imbrace Borg. Since you will havâ— it so forgive my Dutyâ— Let me grow bold and as a Friâ—nd imbrace you Orsin See here my Lord for scarce can I distinguish Through the bright joy that dazles my weak sight Oliverotto and the Duke Graviana When Vitellozzo come to grace your Nuptials All on their knees acknowledge you their Prince Borg. My Equals all Nor shall this Homage be I swear it shall not Rise my Lords your Arms Let me imbrace you round by all things sacred I swear that none of you have been too blame Were you Confederates against my Arms You were but Borgia'â— infinite Ambition Forc'd you against your wills to let him know His head-strong Youth like a young fiery Horse Unless you kindly stop him in hiâ— speed Would hurl him from some Precipice to ruine Oâ—sin See Vitellozzo how he takes our Crimes Upon himself Borg. Behold this Child my Sonâ— I know not any thing the World callâ— precious Which in the darkness of my heart can match him But Bellamira Take him Vitellozzo Take the dear blood that trickles from my heart The very strings that wind about my life And let him for my part be Surety As beautious Bellamira is for yours Orsin Farewell my Lord with these Attendance here I go to haste the Bride and let my life Be answer for the little Seraphino Ex. Orsin Vitelli. Ascan. He has her now that delicate bit of Beauty Which I reserv'd for my own Letchery He drills her from her old deluded Sire Hell and she melts she melts into hiâ— mouth But by my Holy-Dame I 'll be reveng'd On every part of him His little Bastard Because he doats on him shall streight be mangled I 'll do 't I say Yes by my Holy Dame I will revenge my loss of Letchery Ha! what a jerk was that it grates my bones Pray Heav'n it ben't a Spice a little Tang Of the Neapolitan Itch O my Holy-Dame Ex. with Cardinals Borg. Now Machiavel prepare to hear my Soul Hear to what softness and effeminate mourning All my dear Victories at last are melted For I will tell thee though thou'lt scarce believe Since first I saw the Charming Bâ—llamira The very Image of Charlotta's scorn I have not had one hour of Free repose Ev'n when at last I have resolv'd to joyn Our hands and trust her with my tender glory I 've started from my Bed at midnight rose And wandeâ—'d by the Moon Then laid me down Upon some dewy bank and slept till morn Mach. Therefore there must be some strange Circumstance That first induc'd those fears some dang'rouâ— hint For your suspitions Borg. Yes Machiavâ—l There is there is a cause for my suspitions Mach. Are you sure of it Borg. Most sure I am Sure aâ— reserv'dness does imply aversion Yet I as if my flames were fire in Frost The more she cools scorch rage and burns the more Mach. I guesâ— your meaning like Charlotta she Has pawn'd her heart but 't is confess'd you know him Borg. Ha! did I know the name of him I dread What God in Armâ— should save him from my Sword Here thou hast rouz'd the Lion in my heart Italian spite revenge and blasting fury Devouâ—s my Soul all mildness sleeps like Death I boil like Drunkards Veins Death Hell and Vengeance Mach. Suppress this Fury Câ—me come my Lord I find your are better skill'd In Camps then Courts and know not yet Loves World She is reserv'd you say when you approach her Why let her weep too was it ever known A subtle Pride laugh'd on her Wedding Day Or clasp'd her love in the eye o' th world I find you are unlearn'd Sir 't is their Trade The very Nature Soul and Life-blood of 'em To whineâ— and cry and turn their heads away When their hearts dote on what they seem to scorn Borg. If it were so Mach. Why it was always so Is so and will be so to the worlds end Give me your hand and take her on my word I have been bred in Courts sounded the humours Even of all Women-kind Therefore advise you Repair immediately to old Orsino Who with his Beauteous Daughter waits your Coming Borg. Could she be truly mine the wings of Winds Would be too slow to waft me to her arms Mach. Once more I say she is and shall be yours Truly religiously devoutly yours Why all this thought and groundless Jealousy Let manly Confidence and Roman-Vertue Master this Gothick Fury in your blood Borg. By Arms by all the glories I have won Thou hast awak'd my Love and Charm'd my fears Charlotta O the very figure of her But sure the Beauteous Lines are softer here And now I find 't is ruine to forgo her Mach. No more my Lord. 'T is I that thus embark youâ— And if some startinâ— Plank should flâ—w the Vessel To your destruction I am ruin'd too Since all I have or am or ever would be Is to be yours your sworn unbyass'd friend Borg. Thou best of men Thou art my Oracle my Heaven my Genius And as some God shalt guide me through the World Let 's go to Conquest tho through Death we go Marriage and Death both new Experiments Methinks I see the Taper in the Window The Busie Nurse unveils the weeping Maid And I must naked pass through Seas to reach her O fatal Marriage O thou dismal Gulph Which like the Hellespona do'st rore between Me and my Joys Is there no other way None none the Winds and the dash'd Rocks reply Why let 'm roar and let the Billows swell Till the rack't Orbs be wiâ—h the Deluge drown'd 'T is fixt I 'll plunge or perish or enjoy her Mach. Justly
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—
the Devils themselves have mercy O Monster rocky Villain Tyger Hell-hound Seize him you Fiends and Furies dam him dam him May Hell have infinite stories and this Devil Be damn'd beneath the boâ—tomless Foundation Borg. By Heav'n she weeps here dip her Handkerchief Dip'd in his blood and bid her dry her eyes Bella. O thou Eternal Mover of the Heav'ns Where are thy Bolts Gand. I go O Bellamira Thinkâ—st â—hou alas that we shall know each other In the bright World I fear we shall not Oh! Borgia farewel Thy Bride is Innocent Let Bellamira live and I forgive thee Dies Bella. He 's gone to Heav'n he 's gone as sure as thou Shalt sink to Hell thou Tyrant double damn'd Nay thou would'st have me rage and I will rage And weep and rage and show thee to the world Thou Priest Archbishop Cardinal and Duke Thou that hast run through all Religious Orders And with a form of Vertue cloak'd thy horrors Thou proper Son of that old cursed Serpent Who daubs the holy Chair with Blood and Murders But sure the Everlasting has a Chain To bind yours Charm and link you both together Hells Vicar and his first begotten Devil Hotter than Lucifer in all his Flames Enter Alonzo Borg. What hoa Alonzo strangâ—e the prisoners Orsino Vitellozo haste I say Without reply Bella. O spare him spare my Father And I 'll unsay forswear all that I have said O I have play'd the Woman now indeed A lying foolish vext outragious Woman To set your Wrath against the Innocent There was a seeming cause for the Dukes Death And mine But Oh! what has Orsino done Orsino loves you Oh thaâ— good old man Your Father For so a thousand times I 've heard you call him seen you kisâ— embrâ—ce him Therefore he must not cannot dye Borg. Alonzo Alonz. My Lord Borg. Slave I 'll strangle thee Strikeâ— him With my own handsâ— if thou delay'st my Vengeance Say Villain what not dead Alonz. My Lord they are And if I live you shall repent this blow Aside Borg. Go draw the Curtain glut her eyes with Death And strangle her my Veins are all on Firâ— And I could wade up to the eyes in blood Draw draw the Curtain Orsin Vitellez D. Graviana Oliverotto appear disguised Bella. Gorgon Medusa Horror Yet I will shoot through Daggers rush through flames To clasp him in my arms O wretched Paul O noble Orsin what quite cold pale dead And you dear Images will you not give One gasp of breath one groan one last farewel Horror Confusion and eternal shame Light on thee for this deed I tell thee Borgia I see thee on thy Death-Bed all on Fire As if some Hellish poison had inflam'd thee I see thee thrown ten Fathom in a Well Yet still come up like Aetna's belching Flames Borg. I hope thou wilt go mad and prophesie Bella. Yes Tyrant thus thus to thy face I brave thâ—e And tell thee in despite of Threats e're long Thou and thy holy Father shall be seiz'd And carry'd to the Everlasting Goal From whence not all your Spanish Cardinals Your Bailiffs in red Liverieâ— shall redeem you Borg. Dye in thy prophesie Alonzo end her Bella. Thus on my knees then And for terror to thee Hear my last prayer and mark my dying words If I in thought in word in private act Have yielded up this Body to the Arms Of ought that 's Mortal but inhuman Borgia Oh thou impartial and most awful Judge Shut shut thy gates of bliss against my Soul But if my tortur'd vertue merits glory Pardon my frailties see with what joy I leave this life and bring me to perfection She is strangled Borg. What at her Death she that believ'd a Hâ—â—v'n And fear'd a Hell yet to depart a Lyar But how know I that she believ'd a Heav'n Or why with hopes that in the pangs of Death I would reprieve her might she not deny Her Whoredom to the last but that 's unnatural What wouldst thou then I will no more of this It clouds my brain Hence Alonzo bear Bear the Duke of Gandia's Body to the Tibâ—r In some close Chair tye at his neck a Weight And plung him to the Bottom Alonz. my Lord 't is done Ex. Executioners with the Body Borg. I swear I have been cruel to my self For that I lov'd her is as true as she 〈◊〉 past the sense on 't she is cold alâ—eady Enter Machiavel Mach. Ha! this is stately Mischief what my four Foes Of Florence but they are dumb Ha! gazing there I like not that Borg. Her lips are lovelyst ill The Buds tho gather'd keep their Damask Colour Yes and there odour too haste Mâ—chiavâ—l Ruâ—h to my aid I grow in Love with death She shall not dye Run Slaves fetch heither Spirits I will recover her again Mach. Again to plague To meet again another Duke of Gandia Borg. Death on that thought no let her dye and rot The damn'd Adultress perish the thoughts of her Ha tell me come I will no more of her How shâ—ll the bodies be dispos'd I sent My Brother to the Tyber Mach. That 's a trouble I 'll find an easier way for these and her That sleeps within my Closet Go Don Michael Bury 'em all together in quick Lime In some few hours the flesh will be consum'd Then burn the bones and all is dust and ashes Draw here the Curtains on ' em Borg. I swear this body shall not be consum'd I 'll have 't embalm'd to stay a thousand years O Machiavel I swear I know not why But with a World of horror to my Souâ— With tremblings here Convulsions of the heart As if I had some God thus whisper to me Thou ought'st to grieve for Bâ—llamira's Death Mach. My Lord a very fond and foolish Fancy Borg. I say my Lord your policy is out Furies and Hell how should you judge of Love That never lov'd Thou hast no taste of Love No sense no rellish why did I trust thee then Had any softness dwelt in that lean bosomâ— My Bellâ—mira now had been alive Tho I had cause to kill her thou hadst none To set me on but honour jealous honour Oh the last night I tell thee Pollititian When I run o're the vast delight I curse thee And curse my self nay wish I had been found Dead in her Arms But take her bear her hence And thou lov'st me drive her from my Memory They remove her Tell me my Brothers Murder is discover'd That the four Ghosts are up again in arms Say any thing to make me mad and lose This Melancholly which will else destroy me Mach. I here the Pope has sent to Sinigallia To call you back Borg. By Heav'n I had forgot And thou most opportunely has remembred You know twelve Cardinals were then created That solemn Morn that I receiv'd the Rose And I will tell thee halfe those Fools are marrow That bought so high shall veil their Caps for ever Mach. He mends apace 't is
starting up he ask'd For you my Lord bow'd as his Custom is With deep humility to all desir'd 'em To sit and so went out but with a promise Of a most quick return Scene draws and discovers a Chair of state under a Canopy a large Table with a rich Banquet and many Candles on 't Enter Ascanio Adrian Enna Ange two Cardinals more Ascan. My Lord the Vatican Society Who were oblig'd to sacrifice this night As every looser Genius should inspire To Air and Wine and warmer Conversation Grow dull for want of you His Holiness Himselfs retir'd Therefore let us entreat you Borg. O my good Lord Ascanio I am born To be at your Command My Lords I wait you Sirrah remember him I charge thee fill Of the gilt Flask to him Butl. My Lord I shall This Wine is sure the richest of the World Bâ—cause he charges me so strictly of it That Cardinal 's a Friend and he must taste it Ascan. Lord Machiavel you have been charitable I thank your love Nâ—y with my life I thank you Mach. My Lord I wish you would explain your self Ascan. It needs not Sir for this the meanest know The Rabble base Mechanicks talk of murders I saw a sweating Weaver in his Shirt Ran puffing with his Shuttle in his hand To ask a Neighbour Butcher of the news Who with his Knife in 's mouâ—h abruptly tells Orsino's death yes and his Daughters too Then comes a Taylor with his hair tuck'd back Behind his ears on tiptoes in his Slippers And crys in haste the Duke of Gandia's murder'd Then spits upon his Iron cast up his eyes Thâ—eads through the company as 't were a Needle And vanishes no more my Lord I thank you Nay by my life but for the Company I 'd kiss the bottom of your Robe your Lordships ever Your Highness servant My Lord let 's drink a Health to His Holiness But in my heart I say the Devil take him Borg. Lord Machiavel you are my Guest to night Were â—he Society made up of Gods As sure it is of Saints Spirits above The common Elevation yet this man I say my Lords this Human Prodigy Would not be set to wait but fix'd among 'em To dazle with the brightest being here Wine there My Lord Ascanio Sforza Health to all here and to the general joy Drinks Ascan. Fine work my Lords fine work I say look to 't The Duke of Gandia's murder'd Adrian 'T is the common rumour Ennn. The Pope this morning in the Consistory When first he heard the News leap'd from his Throne Crossing his Breast and looking up to Heav'n He vow'd hereafter most severe amendment As from this time to fast for Forty hours And all his life wear next his humble flesh A Shirt of Hair Ascan. A Shirt of Hair bating Lucretian nights She 'll not endur 't look you her skin 's too tender A Shirt of Hair a very prickling Penance Now by my Holy-dame meer Letchery Don't I know him Slave more Wine I say Fill up my Glass Come come my Lords 't is time To look about us and reform the Church Drinks Prune it I say or else like Babylon Like Babel's Whore 't will run up all to seed Hark you Lord Ange. Ang. My Lord. Ascan. My Lord of Enna too we four are As one Soul This Pope's a very leud And wicked Head he 's never well but When he 's plotting Murders Why look you Sirs If a Man cannot speak his mind of State Affairs but he must streight be Dogg'd by Hell-hounds Blood-suckers Decoyers Rascals that watch to throttle him in some By-corner then quoit him like a Cat into The River 't is very fine Now by my Holy-dame It may be our turn next by the Mass it may I say my Lord it may The Indian Boys dance Ha my Lords how do you Like the motion Very pretty very fine O brave Columbus More Wine there a bigger Glass I 'll drink Columbus's health Now by my Holy-dame I am frolicksome and will be active Ha my Lords ha I learnt at Paris when I was A Stripling yet these are pretty Children very fine Boys Enter D. Michael D. Mich. My Lord I gâ—ieve to bring you Mortal News Which were I silent yet in some few Minutes Must wound your Ears your Father 's dead Borg. Hence Raven Thou Boder of the blackest deed of Death My Lords this Villain says the Pope's dead Went he not hence but now sound firm and healthful And promis'd to return D. Mich. My Lord he did But 't is most certain e're he went from hence As all our best Physitians give an Oath He was by some pernicious Traytor poyson'd Borg. O Machiavâ—l where is our forecast now My heart misgives me and my bosom 's hot Who ministred who gave my Father Wine D. Mich. Your Servant for when first your Father enter'd His own Provisions were not come Borg. O Confusion Answer me Villain ha fill'd you his Wine Butl. My Lord I did Borg. What from the gilded Flask why dost thou tremble Horrour consume thee gnaw thee burn thy Entrails Wilt thou not speak Butl. My Lord by your strict Charge That none should taste those Flasks but whom you order'd I judg'd the Wine most Excellent and gave Part of it to your Father Borg. O damn'd Dolt Curst sensless Dog Now Machiavel where are we Ha! by the Furies that invade my Breast And crumble all my Bowels into dust I am caught my self Speak tell me horrid Villain Or I will have thee dragg'd in Thousand Pieces Torn by mad Horses like the flesh of Dogs Thou gav'st me Wine too from the gilded Flasks ha Traytorâ— Come double damn thy self and swear thou did'st not Butl. My Lord I must confess I gave the same To you that was directed for your Friend My Lord Ascanio Borg. Take thy reward then which the Devil thou pour'st Into my Breast thus gives thee back again O Machiavâ—l O do not look upon me I am below thy scorn thus vile caught O basely basely sold by my own wild Ascan. Oh oh oh I have my share on 't too the Devil Thank you Fire fire fire oh my Guts brimstone And fire haste there fly for Antidotes Borg. None none on Earth I â—ell thee Priest can save thy rotten Carkass No Cardinal lye down lye down and roar Think on thy Scarlet sins and fear Damnation Ascan. Legions of Furies here Hell is broke loose And all the Devils are quarter'd in my Bowels Run Slave and for a last revenge produce His mangled Bastard â—hat's some pleasure yet Borg. O Machiavel thy hand I am all flames Yet thou shalt hear no noise sit down my Friend Upon the Earth for there 's my Mansion now Dust and no more and yet methinks 't was hard That this Elaborate Scheme of mighty Man This Parchment where the Lines of Roman greatness By thee so well were drawn should by the hand Of scribling Chance be blotted thus for ever Ascan. I burn I burn I toste I roste
Caesar Borgia SON OF Pope Alexander THE SIXTH A TRAGEDY Acted at the Duke's Theatre BY Their Royal Highnesses Servants Written by NAT. LEE LONDON Printed by R. E. for R. Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden near the Piazza 1680. To the Right Honourable PHILIP Earl of PEMBROKE and MONTGOMERY c. My Lord WHen an Universal Consternation spreads through the Kingdom and the Peace which every man enjoys becomes dreadful to him when Mens minds in this dead calm of State are as busie as 't is fear'd the hands of some wou'd be in the Tempest of a Battel to see a Poet plotting in his Chamber quite another way painting fast as vigorous Fancy can inspire him drawing the past World the present and to come in a narrow space is an Image not unworthy a grave Man's Contemplation It is the business of poor Poets to be the diversion of Mankind pleasure is their being I think I may call 'em the Mistresses of the World which if granted I am sure 't is easie to prove their Gallants very brutish for they generally loath them as soon as they are enjoy'd The best of 'em come under the severest lash of the greatest Men nay the least will be shootting their Bolts and when the Mastiffs worry 'em the little â—urs will be barking the whole World censures and ev'ry daring Poet that comes forth must expect to be like the Almanack Hero all over wounds For my own part I have been so harshly handl'd by some of 'em that my Courage quite fail'd me nor wou'd I now appear in Print but under the Protection and Patronage of your Lordship Your Illustrious Forefathers and indeed all your Eminent Relations have always been of the First-rate Nobility Patrons of Wit and Arms magnificently brave true old-stampt Britains and ever foremost in the Race of Glory Not to unravel half your Honourable Records I challenge all the Men of Fame to show an Equal to the Immortal Sidney ev'n when so many contemporary Worthies flourish'd I mean Sir Philip the Name still of your Lordship true Rival of your Honour one that cou'd match your Spirit so most extravagantly great that he refus'd to be a King He was at once a Caesar and a Virgil the leading Souldier and the foremost Poet all after this must fail I have paid just Veneration to his Name and methinks the Spirit of Shakespear push'd the Commendation That there are in your Lordship all these Excellent Grains which made this Perfect Man I think my self bound by reason to tell the World which to my particular observation and certain knowledge has done you wrong I must acknowledge that your boiling Youth has made great Salleys and so did Alexander and our Great Fifth Henry Your Spirit complains as Alexander's did for Action who grudg'd his Father's Conquests as if his Soul was pent and wanted Elbow-room resolv'd to go Abroad o're Walls if not through Doors and Men of Sense laugh at your precise Fellow your Cynick in a Tub who thwarts the course of Nature and is never pleas'd but when he sees grey Heirs upon a young Head If to be truly Valiant ev'n in cold Blood Magnificent as the old Nobility infinitely Charitable modest as Humility it self the fastest Friend upon Earth where your Lordship is pleas'd to fix the Honour if these Ingredients can compound one admirable Man then may your Lordship stand forth a Monument of lasting Honour Perhaps for this I shall incur the notion of a Flatterer Flattery indeed is a Catholick ill it passes through the World and suits with all Complexions 'T is an insinuating Poyson a Iesuiâ—'s Powder which seems to intend the Cure of the Disease it promotes I am confident all those who have the honour of your Lordship's Acquaintance will tell me I have said too little Let it suffice that I imitate the best of Poets in a short but hearty Acknowledgment of my Obligations to your Lordship Therefore I hope as your Lordship 's Great Uncle shone upon the mighty Ben. with a full Favour though my best Merits are not the ten thousand part of his smallest labours your Lordship's infinite goodness will accept of my honest intentions which to your Lordship's Service shall ever be humbly offer'd By my Lord Your Lordship 's most Humble And Obedient Servant NAT. LEE PROLOGUE Written by Mr. Dryden TH' unhappy man who once has trail'd a Pen Lives not to please himself but other Men Is always drudging wasts his Life and Blood Yet only eats and drinks what you think good What praise soe're the Poetry deserve Yet every Fool can bid the Poet starve That fumbling Lecher to revenge is bent Because he thinks himself or Whore is meant Name but a Cuckold all the City swarms From Leaden-hall to Ludgate is in Arms. Were there no fear of Antichrist or France In the best times poor Poets live by chance Either you come not here or as you grace Some old acquaintance drop into the place Careless and qualmish with a yawning Face You sleep o're Wit and by my troth you may Most of your Talents lye another way You love to hear of some prodigious Tale The Bell that toll'd alone or Irish Whale News is your Food and you enough provide Both for your selves and â—ll the World beside One Theatre there is of vast resort Which whilome of Requests was call'd the Court But now the great Exchange of News 't is hight And full of hum and buzz from Noon till Night Vp Stairs and down you run as for a Race And each man wears three Nations in his Face So big you look tho' Claret you retrench That arm'd with bottled Ale you huff the French But all your Entertainment still is fed By Villains in our own dull Island bred Would you return to us we dare engage To show you better Rogues upon the Stage You know no Poison but plain Rats-bane here Death 's more refin'd and better bred elsewhere They have a civil way in Italy By smelling a perfume to make you dye A Trick would make you lay your Snuff-box by Murder 's a Trade so known and practis'd there That 't is Infallible as is the Chair But mark their Feasts you shall behold such Prankâ— The Pope says Grace but 't is the Devil gives Thanks Dramatis Personae Sons of Alexander the Sixth Caesar Borgia Mr. Betterton Palante Duke of Gandia Mr. Williams Machiavel Secretary of Florence Mr. Smith Paul Orsino Head of the Factions against Borgia Mr. Gillow Ascanio Sforza A Buffoon Cardinal Mr. Lee. Vittellozzo Chief of the Vitelli. Mr. Percival Enna Ange Cardinals c. Bellamira Daughter of Orsino Mrs. Lee. Adorna Her Kinswoman and Confident Mrs. Price Attendants c. The Scene ROME Caesar Borgia ACT I. SCENE I. Scene is a Chamber of State aâ— distance are discovered little American Boys with Boxes of Iewels in their hands on each side of the Stagâ— from the flat Scene to the Chamber long Indian Screnes are
will Ascan. She knows the Cruelties of Caesar Borgia â— Has heard his Rapes and Murders Mercy on meâ— How did he use the poor Veneâ—ian Lady He forc'd her in a Wood nay in a Ditch As I am credibly inform'd by those That heard her squeak in a Dry-Ditch deflowr'd her Add yet to this my Lords How when the French At sacking of a Town broke open Nunneâ—ieâ— He truss'd at least 40 the pretty'st Rogubs The tenderst quaking things never broke upâ— All spotless Maids like 〈◊〉 ne're blown upon Nor touch'd even with the tip of any Finger And kept 'em for â—is Letchery Orsin Methinks my Lord Ascanio my Lord of Millain Or my Lord Cardinal more moderation Would better fit a man of â—our profession I would not come to th◠〈◊〉 Aâ—gument For then we clash Bâ—â—gia is now my Son Therefore I pray â—â—ce more forbear to tax him The Theme is great and worthy that we mention Romania's Duke and Nephew to the Pope Ascan. Prithee old Paul Prithee now ben't so hot Good Reverend Gray-beard if you 'l name his Greatness Pronounce him right ev'n as his Holiness Has own'd him to the World without a blush His natural Son his Nephew or his By blow that is In short old Paul his down right Bastard Orsin Without a blush should I stand up the Champion Of absent Borgia and unravel thee I tell thee Priest thou scandal to the Altar Thy Front thy Eyes thy Lips each part of thee Would blush with Scarlet deeper than thy Robe Ascan. Peace Dotard peace I say old stuttering Paul thou 'lt ha' â—he worst on 't Therefore peace peace Dotard Orsin Ha! Vitel. Forbear my Lord Remember Orsin How dares he thus provoke me Who knows yet urges me knows in his heart How I have pierc'd into his deepest thoughts Have had intelligence of all his Vices Ev'n of his closest darkest Deeds of Lust And dar'st thou call me Dotard Saucy Churchmanâ— Thou that gav'st Whores Indulgences foâ— Sin So rank that he frequents the Common Stews For a new Face would give his Scarlet Coat To make the Strumpet fine Oliv. My Lord Consider where to whom of whom And what it is you utter Orsin Place me some Power Upon Saint Peter's Vane the very Ball And turn my Voice to Thunder that I may Lay open to the World the Hellish Acts Of this Contagious Prelate Ascan. Spit spit thy Venom nay nay let him out with 't Mark how he shakes now by my Holyâ—Dame I have nettled him Poor Paul I Pitty the old Fool Orsin Then Priest let me demand thee Is noâ— the Cupping-glass that burns thy Lust And draws thy rising Gall to such a Blister My Daughter's scorn and loathing of thy person Ha! is 't not that I think I 've stung you Cardinal Worse than the Neapolitan Pox you gave Our Roman Harlots Ascan. Why how now Paul what dost thou grow foul Mouth'd now by my Holy-Dame had I a Sword I 'd firk thee Orsin I 'd so whip thee Paul So flawg and scourge thee thou should'st eat thy words The Pox why how now ha the Pox i'faith The Pox to me let me come at him hah Orsin Ha! wilt thou fight So forward Priest by Heav'n I 'll shave your Crown Stand back and let me mow this Poppy off This rank red Weed that spoils the Churches Corn. Vitel. Did ever fury run to such a height Why my Lord Cardinal know you this place And how 't is priviledg'd Ascan. My Lord I am silenc'd An easie Man made up of patience I No Gall in me give me thy hand Old Paul Henceforth w' are Friends and as a Friend I 'll tell thee Ev'n from my Heart I 'll tell thee what I think Thou art bewitch't Old Paul besotted fool'd This Son-in-Law of thine has seal'd thine Eyes And shortly I shall see thee walk the Streets With a Dog and a Bell nay prithee be not angry For 't is in love I 'll tell thee of a Dotage And so your Servant noble Vitellazzo Anga and Enna yours Farewell my Lord And lastly thine whose Neck is in the Noose Old Woodcock Orsin Exit Cardinal D. Gravin I am not us'd to fear But yet methought Ascanio's last words Were dreadful to my Ears Orsin I have engag'dâ— My Daughter Life and Honour and all my Fortunes For the Duke's Faith and the securityâ— Of every person here why should we doubt him Have we not seen his Labour in this matter Four thousand Duckets given us down in hand With an assurance of our former pay Nay more he binds himself not to constrain Any one of us to appear in person Before him but who pleases of himself Therefore let me intreat you clear your Brains Meet all this day together at the Marriage And pay him as he merits faithful homage Vitel. There 's something here fore-bodes in spite of The Musick that he makes a harsh Conclusion Orsin For shame no more the very fears of Children Because he gives our Friends allowances And honours them with Charges Governments Beyond their Qualities we dread his Dealing And swear he means to draw our Faction from us Vitel. Henceforth say what you will do what you please Since to your Interests I am link'd by Fate I will no more oppose your specious Reasons But instantly go wait upon the Duke Trumpets Orsin This day to add new Honours to the Marriage Our Son-in-Law the Duke Valantinois Receives the Rose before the Consistory A Grace which seldom is vouchsafed to Kings Indeed the greatest which the Sacred Head Of the whole Christian World can give to Man The very highest Round of Humane Glory Scene draws and shews the Consistory Borgia come forward with the Rose carri'd before him in great Pomp. His Son Seraphino led by Alonzo Machiavel Attendants Ascanio and five Cardinals c. Brog O Machiavel was â—ver Pomp like this The Morning dawns with an unwonted Crimson The Flow'rs more od'rous seem the Garden Birds Sing louder and the laughing Sun ascends The gaudy Earth with an unusual brightness All Nature smiles and the whole world is pleas'd Even all the World but thy unhappy Borgia Mach. And why should he who every Man concludes The Darling of the Times whom bounteous Heav'n Has Crown'd with Glory in successful Wars Whom it now doubly Crowns with Beauty too The brightest of her Sex why should he thwart The whole Worlds Vogue and think himself unhappyâ— Borg. Yes Machiavel thou worthi'st of Mankind To thee I 'll strip my Heart that secret Bed With Vices Vertues every naked thought And shew thee all the mixture of a Man We are observ'd Think me not over-frail Because I love were Bellamira dearer Her Father bleeds and all the Rebel-Race I 'll first insnare the Fools then preach Fate to ' em Mach. And let 'em know just as the Cords are drawing None ought to offend his Prince and after trust him Borg. My Lord Orsino O forgive me Heav'n Who have thus grosly fail'd to pay the Reverence
Bellamira Yet by the consequence of this affection Thou hast destroy'd my peace of mind for ever Thou hast been ruinous and mortal to mâ— As Robbers Ravishers or Murderers Therefore be gone fly from my Eyes for ever And never let me see Palante more Gand. I go for ever from you aâ— you charge me And for that purpose I did hither come But little thought that you would drive me thus I hop'd at least that when I parted from you And bid you everlastingly farewel I hop'd but oh those flattering hopes were vain That gentle Bellamira should have sigh'd Or dropt a tear when I would take my leave And never see her more Bellam. O Cruelty You rend the Plaister from the bleeding wound Gand. An Elder Brother calâ—s you to his Bed And you perhaps will not be râ—vish'd â—hiâ—her O Bellamira I had once those Vows Which thy frail heaâ—t does now resign to Borgia But I have staid too long Faâ—ewel â—or ever When I am gone and thou for many yâ—ars Enjoy'st the Change thy Father forc'd thee to For sure I cannot think it all thy doing If happy Caesar Borgia chance to fold thee More closely in his arms then was his Custom Say to thy heart with a relenting thought Thus if your Fates had pleas'd the wretched Gandia Would thus have lov'd me But no more farewel You 're pleas'd to banish me and I 'll obey Exituâ—ns Bell. Come back come back you shall not leave me thus Let Fathers Curse and Jealous Husbands Rage Love has a force that can surmount the World Enter Borgia If then 't is destin'd that you must be gone And leave me to the Arms of Câ—uel Borgia Borg. Ha! but observe there may be more in this Bell. If we two Lovers whom â—or tenderness The World can never mâ—tch must part for ever Gand. O that for ever Borg. Iâ—'s Apparition all By Heav'n a Dream I swear a vâ—ry Dream Bell. Yet take O take this dying â—arewel with thee And whomsoe're thy Paâ—sion shall Espouse Remember O Remember thiâ— and lâ—ave me No Man was ever so by Woman lov'd As thou Palante art by Bellamira Gand. Stop theâ—e for to go on will give me Death O! thou hast utter'd Sounds oâ— such a strain As Nature cannot bear like utmost Musick Which while it charms the Sense makes chill the Blood No more for by my glimmering joys I fear Thou 'lt sing my soul to Everlasting Sleep Borg. Then let me wake you Bell. O Heav'ns we are undone Borg. Start not nor weep not beauteous Bellamira For there is nothing toward you but well Fortune her self now smiles on your design And Heav'n and Earth conspire to make you happy These Mourning Habits on your Wedding Day Had chance not guided me to hear your Loves Would have betray'd the secret Gand. O Brother what must I expect I know not Whether I ought to hope or fear Borg. Hope all For curst is he that parts whom Heav'n has joyn'd I stand convinc'd that Love has made you one And may those Chaster Fires that warm your hearts Vie with the Stars for Immortality Gand. Speak it again again confirm this goodness For one so Noble sure this World contains not O! 't is too little but to name him Noble For such a Soul aspires above the Clouds So great Ethereal and so God-like fram'd He must look down on Kings such vast compassion Such an unheard magnificence of Mercy As we must both adore Kneel Bellamira For 't is a God we talk with Borg. O you must not Methinks fair Bellamira who still answers With the accustom'd Language of her Tears Methinks you should have told me all this while Your Beauties were not doom'd for Caesar Borgia 'T is true I often fear'd by your reserv'dness Your Heart must be ingag'd Or thou Palente Had'st thou but told me when I woo'd her first How many sighs and sorrows hadst thou sav'd me I would not then have launch'd but yielded up The Noble Fraight this more than Indian Treasure And given thee all my interest in her Father Gand. Alas I fear'd Borg. I hold you Sir excus'd May you be happy as your Souls can wish But I must beg you from this place retire For your own interest Orsino here Entreated me to wait him and 't is now Upon this day allotted for my Marriage Unfit to break the business of your Loves Yet doubt not O most happy lovely Pair But Care and Time shall perfect all your Wishes Gand. Give me your Arms I had design'd this Morningâ— Made desperate with my griefs t' acquaint your Ear With all the progress of my ruin'd passion I thought that you would storm and use me ill And had design'd I know not what to forfeit My life rather than lose my Bellamira But you have so prevented me Borg. No more How fairest Bellamira not one word Am I ordain'd the Pâ—oxy of your Love Without the Breath of thanks Bell. The bounteous Heav'ns Rain on your head whole Deluges of mercies For this great goodness Hear me oh ye Powers Hear me upon my knees where-e're he goes Guard him with blessings give him his own wisheâ— If to the Wars he pass Renown attend him And growing Conquest dwell upon his Arms Let him attain by a long course of Valour And gallant acts to the old Roman Greatness And when at last in Triumph he returns May all the sighing Virgins strow his way And with new Garlands Crown his coming Glory Ex. with Gandia Enter Machiavel Mach. Something 's discover'd and I guess the business My Lord you 're wanted and the beauteous Bride Borg. I charge thee name her not upon thy life Here tear tear off these unbecoming Garments Get me my Horse and bid my Arms be ready Yes Machiavel with to morrows dawn Thou shalt behold me in another Dress Breathing Defiance to these softer Wars Mach. But why Sir why how comes this sudden change Why have you charg'd me that I should not speak Of Bellamira Borg. Cruel Machiavel Why dost thou bring the fatal Charmer back Whom I would drive for ever from my Soul Mach. This wâ—ndrous alteration of your humour Must sure arise from some as wondrous cause Have you discover'd ought Borg. All all 's discovâ—r'd And such â—n over sight in theeâ— but where Wheâ—e now is thy profound Sagacity Where aâ—l thy Dâ—posiâ—ions Promises Warâ—aâ—ts Ingâ—gâ—ments thâ—t shâ— should be mine Chastly religiously devâ—uâ—ly miâ—e Maâ—h And iâ— she not Borg. By Heav'n quiâ—e opposiâ—e Aâ—l that my boding heart presag'd to thee Bâ—fore haâ— hâ—ppen'd happen'd in such manner As quite out went my own Imagination Mach. Who e're he is that has supplanted you By your just rage he was a sâ—cret Villain The closest Traytor that e're plotted mischief And justly has deserv'd the sâ—ab you gave himâ— Borg. How Machiavel ha didst thou talk of stabbing Mach. I neither think nor know what 's youâ— intenâ—ion But that 's your Countries Custom in such cases Besides Sir when I did
discourse you last You fell into Convulsions of Despair With mentioning the very name of Rival And thundâ—r'd out whole Volleys of revenge Borg. Tâ—ue Machiavel but could not think my Rival Shâ—uld prove my Brother Mach. Ha! Borg. Raise raise me Heav'n Some other Man that dares to take her from me To snatch the only Beauty I can love And at the Altar too from my imbraces If I not end him though he were Imperial Ev'n in the middle of his Guards Mach Your Brother And have you Confiâ—maâ—ion that she loves him Borg. Why dost thou wondeâ— I both saw and heard Heaâ—d all his Vows and her most passionate Answers She loves him Yes these cursed Remâ—mbrancers These eyes have seen it O! she dotes on him Feeds on his looks eyes him as pregnant Women Gaze at the precious thing their Souls are set on Mach. And you pâ—rhaps will bear it from a Brother With all the meekness of an Anchorite A man of quite another Worldâ— you 'd best Go to the Wars be shot and leave this Brother The Heir of all sole Darling of the Pope Borg. 'T is certain that I seem'd to all appearance Mild and relenting bâ—gg'd 'em leave me here That I might think Mach. Think by your Holy Father You have no blood no soul nor spirit left The Genius of your House must blush at this A Brother why so much the more a Villain Borg. O Machiavel Mach. O Conscientious Borgia By all that 's great it is in him flat Incest There 's â—or your Conscience if you will have Conscience She was betroth'd yours by her Father's Will Publish'd to the World and what else makes a Marriage And for a Brother thus to undermine you And carry it too Are you Italian born Begot by one O make it not a doubt I grieve I groan I am mad to see you thus What to be made the talk the jeer of Rome As once you were at Paris by Charlotta No I 'll revenge thee cold as thou art and dead And may this Steel be sheath'd in Machiavel If that the treacherous Duke of Gandia scape me Exiturns Borg. Come back I say for what is to be done I 'll act my self Where was I or where am I No Machiavel thou know'st 't is not my Conscience That lets the Villain live I think thou hast heard The fatal Jars w'have had about my Sister For I remember being in her Bath And by her Women told we were at words She ran in haste half naked to the Pope Who came to part the fray and swore in fury With horrid Imprecations who-e're sell By th'oâ—hers hand he never would have mercy On the Surviver This my Machiavel Is Borgia's Conscience For to do a murdâ—r And not be safe is Drunkards policy Mach. What then is your intent Borg. To follow Nature For so do Flames that burn and Seas that drown Yes Machiavel and care not what comes on 't So when security and black occasion Point me to death I will be rough as those And blood him till he changes to a Ghost Yet since my Fathers threats bar present murder I 'll find a way to rack him Mach. Ha! you mean To take again your beauteous Prize that is The lovely Bellamira still retains Some holds about your heart Borg. O 't is confess'd And howsoe're my Tongue has plaid the Braggart She Reigns more fully in my Soul than ever She Garrisons my Breast and Mans against me Even my own Rebel thoughts with thousand Graces Ten thousand Charms and new discover'd Beauties O! hadst thou seen her when she lately blest me What tears what looks and languishings she darted Love baâ—h'd himself in the distilling Balm And oh the subtle God has made his entrance Quiâ—e through my heart he shouts and triumphs too And all his Cry is Death or Bâ—llamira Mach. Why this is like the Spirit of your Father You bring his graceâ—ul vigour just before me Just just as first he wore the triple Crown Just so he walk'd just with that fiery Movement So sparkled too his eyes so glow'd his Cheeks Nor fear Palente when she 's in your Arms When she perceives the fervour of your passion Panting upon her naked Breasts for Mercy Borg. Sighing as if my very Soul would burst And gasping Machiavel as if Deaths pangs were on me Mach. Now stealing to her Lips dissolv'd in Tears And pressing close but softly to her side Whispering O why why gentle Bellamira Then with a sudden start let loose your love Grasp her as if you could no longer bear it Clasp her all Night and stifle her with Kisses O there are Thousand ways Borg. Ten Thousand Thousand Millions and infinite yet add to those I 'll try 'em all nor shall a drop of mercy Fall from my Eyes though I beheld Palante Dead at her Door O expectation burns me O Bellamira heart how she does inflame me Mach. Then there 's no need of warlike preparations Borg. Talk no more of War for now my Theme's all Love The War like Winter vanishes 't is gone And Bellamira with eternal Spring Drest in blew Heavens and breathing Vernal Sweets Drops like a Cherubin in smiles before me Mach. Oh that the World could but behold you thus That Bellamira saw you in this height Of dazling Passion and becoming Fury Borg. Thus to a glorious Coast through Tempests hurl'd We sail like him who sought the Indian World 'T is more 't is Paradise I go to prove And Bellamira is the Land of Love I have her in my view and hark she talks And see about like the first Maid she walks Fair as the Day when first the World began And I am doom'd to be the happy man Exeunt ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Ascanio and Alonzo Alonz. MY Lord this is an Act so newly horrid So ghastly a contrivance of Revenge That Fiends themselves would start at the Proposal I to do this I who have bred him up Oh Seraphino â— Nurs'd thee in my Bosom To gash thy Cheeks and tear out both thy Eyes Ascan. The sums of Gold are order'd to be paid Half on your bare consent on Execution The whole Alonzo thou hast no compassion When Interest comes in play Don't I know At the Command of Machiavel or Borgia Thou would'st not stick to poyson ev'n the Pope Come come dissemble not thy Occupation Murder 's thy Trade and Death thy Livelihood Therefore perform this act of spritely Vengeance And I 'll Create thee Noble Alonz. 'T is sure e're long when I have serv'd their turn They will end me too for fear of talking Therefore my Lord how-e're my Conscience stings me For 't is most true I love the Innocent Boy Send home the Gold Ascan. Thou shalt along with me I will not send but pay it thee in hand Full Twenty Thousand Crowns Why what a sum is that Full Twenty Thousand Crowns Why I will tell thee there are Roguâ—s in Ordeâ—s Monks Fryers Iesuites that would kill their Fathers Ravish their
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
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
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
and my Guts fry They blaze they snap they bounce like Squibs And Crackers I am all fire Mach. Is 't possible that you can bear the pangs Of violent poyson thus unmov'd Borg. 'T is little To one resolv'd No let the Coward Statesman Women and Priests whine at the thoughts of death For me whose mind was ever fierce and active Death is unwelcom only for this reason Because 't is an Eternal laziness Enter Alonzo leading in Seraphino with his Eyes out and Face cut Mach. I must confess my mind by what I saw This morning and by what has happen'd since Is deeply shockt even from her own Foundation Ascan. Bear the blind Bastard to his Father go And bid him laugh oh Mach. Horrour new horrour My Lord your Son by that most bloody Cardinal Mangled and blind Borg. Why dost thou wonder at it 'T is all the work of Chance and trick of Fortune Yet this methinks is horrible indeed Come hither Boy Serap Alas I hear your Voice And cannot find the way But am like one benighted in a Wood. Borg. A Wood indeed But oh the Brambles there have us'd thee vilely Serap O Father you are arm'd and have a Sword Will you not for your Seraphino's sake Cut down those Thorns that prick'd out both my eyes I know you will for you were always kind And tender of me oft-times have you held me Fast in your Arms and smil'd and plaid with me Though you 're a Prince a very busie Prince And call'd me little Eyes little indeed For now they 're out and all my Face is cut Nay they have starv'd me too Borg. Death and horrour Serap Why do you press me thus between your Arms As if you lov'd me still I am sure you cannot Pray let me hide my Face within your Bosom For if you look upon me I shall fright you O! I've a pain here just about my heart When you my Lord a long time after me Shall dye will you not lay my little Bones By yours Alas my pain encreases Oh Diâ—s Borg. Revenge thee Boy I ask but that from Fate And see 't is given me Through a thousand Wounds Thus horrid Priest purge out thy lustful blood Stabs Ascâ—â— And Vomit thy black Soul Ascan. Oh! Devil Devil Devil Diâ—sâ— Borg. No Machiavel 't is now fit time to rave For I am now enrag'd to that degree That I will live even in despight of Fortune Stars Fates and all the Juggles of a Heaven Hence bear me Slaves and plunge me into Tyber Deep as I sunk the Duke of Gandia down Till I have quench't this Hell within my bowels Then slâ—y me an Oxe-hide and swadle me Like Hercules in the Nemean-skin 'Till all my poison'd flesh like bark pillâ— off And my bare Trunck stands every brushing wind Enna Where are our Guards My Lords I judge it fit That Machiavel and Borgia should be seiz'd Borg. Seize me what sawcy Priâ—st durst start that motion Am I not Tyrant here The Lord of Rome Does not France dread my Frown and Spain adore me Who then dares talk of seizing me what he This wag tail Priest with the black picked Beard That scowrs the Country round for freckled Wenchesâ— Or was it yâ—u my Lord of Enna Ha! Death where 's my Majesty oâ— vail your Caps Or I will trample you beneath my Feet You Ange that câ—uld prostiâ—uâ—e your Sister To gain a Hat lye there Lord of St. Peter You Cardinal ad Vincula you pack of Hell-hounds That trace me by thâ— blood On on I say On to the brink of Hell Thence plunge together Where on his Throne behold the Master Devil With a great pair of glowing Horns red hot To gore you for your lives incontinence You Ravishers you Virgin pioners You Cuckold-makers of the forked World Ange. Where are your Guards Borg. Hark I hear 'em coming Or is it Dooms day Ha by Hell it is And see the Heav'ns and Earth and Air are all On fire the very Seas like Moulten-glass Rowl their bâ—ight Waves and from the smoky deep Cast up the glaring Dead The Trumpet sounds And the swift Angels skim about the Globe To summon all Mankind Rome Rome is call'd Work work for Hell Hoa Satan Belzebub Belial and Baal Whence this Thunderclap They 've blown us up with Wild-fire in the Air And look how the ball'd Fryâ—rs in Russet-gowns Croak like old Vultures how the flutt'ring Iesuits In blâ—ck and white chatter about the Heav'ns Capuchins Monks with the whole Tribe of Knaves Thâ—n let me burst my spleen Look how the Tassels Caps Hâ—ts and Cardinals Coats and Cowls and Hoods Are tost about the sport the sport of Winds Indulgences Dispences Pardâ—ns Bulls see yonder Priest they sly they 're whirld aloft They fly They fly or'e the backside o' th' world Into a Limbo large and broad since call'd the Paradise Of Fools Enna 'T is just we give him way this fit of rage Has wasted him to Death see he breaths short The Taper's spent and this is his last Blaze Borg. Ha! Breath I short Prelate thou ly'st my pulse Beats with a constant fire and spritely motion The strings of my tough Heart as strong as ever No I will live in spight of Fate I 'll live To be the scourge of Rome I 'll live to act New mischiefs and create new wicked Popes To ponyard Heretick Princes that refuse To lay their Nâ—cks beneath the holy Slipper Murder successively two Kings of France Britain attempt though her most watchful Angel Saves the Lov'd Monarch of that happy Isle And turns upon our selves the plotted Wound That sinks me to the Earth yet still we 'll on And hatch new dâ—eds of darkness O Hell and Furies Why should we not since the great Head himself Will back my Plots joyn me in blood and horror And after give me Bond for my Salvation I swear I will I 'll have it nay Sir you shall Or I will thunder to your Holiness But hark he whispers what a little Gold With all my heart thus Devils buy souls for trash I 'll fee your itching palm for Absolution Gold for my pardon hey 't is seal'd and given And for a Ducat thus I purchase Heav'n Dies Maeh The mighty soul there forc'd her furious passage And plunges now in deep Eternity I see my Lords you have resolv'd to guard me And I submit to strict Examination By you to be acquitted or condemned Yet this I must avow before you all Though you should cast me to the Inquisition Skill'd as I am in all Affairs of Earth Known both to Popes and Kings and often honour'd With Cabinet Councils of Imperial Heads I here resolve on this as my last Judgment No Power is safe nor no Religion good Whose Principles of growth are laid in Blood EPILOGUE WELL then be you his Iudges what pretence Made them roar out this Play would give offence Had he the Pope's Effigies meant to burn And kept for sport his Ashes in an Vrn To try if Reliques would perform at Home But haâ—f those Miracles they do at Rome More could not have been said nor more been done To damn this Play about the Court and Town Not if he had shown their Philters Charms and Rage Nay â—onjur'd up Pope Jone to please the Age And had her Breeches search'd upon the Stage First then he brings a scandal on the Gownâ— And makes a Priest both Leacher and Buffoon Why was no Fool yet ever made a Flamen But dulnâ—ss quite entail'd upon the Lay men Or was it ever heard in Rome before That any Priest was quâ—stâ—on'd for his Whore Yet more the horrid Chair the Mid night show He says 't was done two hundred Years ago He only points their ways of murdering then If you must damn spare the Historian's Pen And damn those Rogues that act 'em oâ—re again But Dominicks Franciscans Hermits Fryars Shall breed no more a Race of Zealous Lyars Villains who for Religion's Propagation Come here disguis'd in ev'ry mean Vocation And sit in Stalls to spy upon the Nation Old Emissarâ—es shall their Trade forbear Spread no more Savoy Reliques Bones and Hair Shall sell no more like Baubles in a Fair Monks under ground shall cease to earth like Moâ—es And Father Lewis leave his lurking-holes Get no more Thirty Pâ—unds for a blind Story Of ficeing a Welch Soul from Purgatory Iesuits in Rome shall quite forswear their Function And not for Gold give Whores the Exâ—reme Unction High English Whores that have all Vices past Shall cease to turn true Catholicks at last When Poets write tho by exactest Rules And are not judg'd by Knaves and damn'd by Fools FINIS