Selected quad for the lemma: son_n
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A07237
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The Duke of Millaine A tragædie. As it hath beene often acted by his Maiesties seruants, at the blacke Friers. Written by Philip Massinger Gent.
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Massinger, Philip, 1583-1640.
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1623
(1623)
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STC 17634; ESTC S112414
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45,141
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120
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The other liu'd his enemie Step. T is true And 't was a doubtfull choice Tib. But hee well knowing And hauing too it seemes the Spanish pride Lent his assistance to the King of France Which hath so farre incens'd the Emperor That all his hopes and honours are embark'd With his great Patrons Fortune Step. Which stands faire For ought I yet can heare Tib. But should it change The Duke 's vndon They haue drawne to the field Two royall armies full of fierie youth Of equall spirit to dare and power to doe So neere entrench'd that 't is beyond all hope Of humaine councell they can er'e be seuerd Vntill it be determin'd by the sword Who hath the better cause For the successe Concludes the victor innocent and the vanquish'd Most miserably guilty How vncertaine The Fortune of the warre is children know And it being in suspence on whose faire Tent Wing'd victory wil make her glorious stand You cannot blame the Duke though he appeare Perplex'd and troubled Step. But why then In such a time when euery knee should bend For the successe and safetie of his person Are these lowd triumphs In my weake opinion They are vnseasonable Tib. I iudge so too But onely in the cause to be excus'd It is the Dutchesse Birth-day once a yeere Solemniz'd with all pompe and ceremony In which the Duke is not his owne but hers Nay euery day indeed he is her creature For neuer man so doted But to tell The tenth part of his fondnesse to a stranger Would argue me of fiction Step. She 's indeed A Lady of most exquisite forme Tib. She knowes it And how to prize it Step. I ne're heard her tainted In any point of honour Tib. On my life Shee 's constant to his bed and well deserues His largest Fauours But when beauty is Stampt on great women great in birth and fortune And blowne by flatterers greater then it is 'T is seldome vnaccompanied with pride Nor is shee that-way free Presuming on The Dukes affection and her owne Desert Shee beares her selfe with such a Maiestie Looking with scorne on all as things beneath her That Sforzas mother that would loose no part Of what was once her owne Nor his faire Sister A Lady too acquainted with her worth Will brooke it well And howsoer'e their hate Is smother'd for a time T is more then feard It will at length breake out Step. Hee in whose power 't is Turne all to the best Tib. Come let vs to the Court We there shall see all brauery and cost That art can boast of Exeunt Step. I le beare you company Enter Francisco Isabella Mariana Ma. I will not goe I scorne to be a spot In her proud traine Isa. Shall I that am his mother Be so indulgent as to waite on her That owes me duty Fra. T is done to the Duke And not to her And my sweet wife remember And Madam if you please receiue my councell As Sforza is your sonne you may command him And as a sister you may challenge from him A brothers loue and Fauour But this graunted Consider hee 's the Prince and you his Subiects And not to question or contend with her Whom hee is pleasd to honour Priuate men Preferre their wiues and shall hee being a Prince And blest with one that is the Paradice Of sweetnesse and of beauty to whose charge The stocke of womens goodnesse is giuen vp Not vse her like her selfe Isa. You are euer forward To sing her praises Ma. Others are as faire I am sure as noble Fra. I detract from none In giuing her wha't 's due Were she defor'md Yet being the Dutches I stand bound to serue her But as she is to admire her Neuer wife Met with a purer heate her husbands feruer A happie paire one in the other blest She confident in her selfe hee 's wholy hers And cannot seeke for change and he secure That t is not in the power of man to tempt her And therefore to contest with her that is The stronger and the better part of him Is more then folly You know him of a nature Not to be play'd with and should you forget To obey him as your Prince hee 'le not remember The dutie that he owes you Isa. T is but trueth Come cleere our browes and let vs to the banquet But not to serue his Idoll Ma. I shall doe What may become the sister of a Prince But will not stoope beneath it Fra. Yet be wise Sore not too high to fall but stoope to rise Exeunt Enter three Gentlemen setting forth a banquet 1. Ge. Quicke quicke for loues sake let the court put Her choicest outside Cost and brauerie on Be onely thought of 2. Gent. All that may be had To please the eye the eare taste touch or smell Are carefully prouided 3. Gen. Ther 's a Masque Haue you heard what 's the inuention 1. Gent. No matter It is intended for the Dutches honour And if it giue her glorious attributes As the most faire most vertuous and the rest 'T will please the Duke They come 3. Gent. All is in order Enter Tiberio Stephano Francisco Sforza Marcellia Isabella Mariana attendants Sfo. You are the Mistris of the feast sit heere O my soules comfort And when Sforza bowes Thus low to doe you honour let none thinke The meanest seruice they can pay my loue But as a faire addition to those tytles They stand possest of Let me glory in My happinesse and mightie Kings looke pale With enuie while I triumph in mine owne O mother looke on her sister admire her And since this present age yeelds not a woman Worthy to be her second borrow of Times past and let imagination helpe Of those canoniz'd Ladies Sparta boasts of And in her greatnesse Rome was proud to owe To fashion and yet still you must confesse The Phoenix of perfection ner'e was seene But in my faire Marcelia Fra. She 's indeede The wonder of all times Tib. Your excellence Though I confesse you giue her but her owne Enforces her modestie to the defence Of a sweet blush Sfo. It neede not my Marcelia When most I striue to praise thee I appeare A poore detracter For thou art indeed So absolute in bodie and in minde That but to speake the least part to the height Would aske an Angels tongue and yet then end In silent admiration Isab. You still court her As if she were a Mistris not your wife Sfo. A Mistris mother she is more to me And euery day deserues more to be â—â—â—de too Such as are cloyd with those they haue embrac'd May thinke their wooing done No night to mee But is a brydall one where Himen lights His torches fresh and new And those delights Which are not to be cloth'd in ayrie sounds enioyd beget desires as full of heat And Iouiall feruor as when first I tasted Her virgin fruit Blest night and be it numbred Amongst those happy ones in which a blessing Was by the full