From being pull'd by the sleeve, and bid remember The thing I wot of.
Beauf. jun. All that have eyes to weep,
Spare one tear with me. Theocrine's dead.
Mont. Her father too lies breathless here, I
Struck dead with thunder.
Cham. 'Tis apparent: how
His carcass smells !
Lan. His face is alter'd to Another colour.
Beauf. jun. But here's one retains Her native innocence, that never yet Call'd down heaven's anger.
Beauf. sen. 'Tis in vain to mourn
For what's past help.-We will refer, bad man,
Your sentence to the king. May we make use of
This great example, and learn from it, that
There cannot be a want of power above,
To punish murder, and unlawful love!
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, AND MUCH ESTEEMED FOR HER HIGH BIRTH, BUT MORE ADMIRED FOR HER VIRTUE,
THE LADY KATHERINE STANHOPE,
WIFE TO PHILIP LORD STANHOPE, BARON OF SHELFORD.
MADAM,—If I were not most assured that works of this nature have found both patronage and protection amongst the greatest princesses of Italy, and are at this day cherished by persons most eminent in our kingdom, I should not presume to offer these my weak and imperfect labours at the altar of your favour. Let the example of others, more knowing, and more experienced in this kindness (if my boldness offend) plead my pardon, and the rather, since there is no other means left me (my misfortunes having cast me on this course) to publish to the world (if it hold the least good opinion of me) that I am ever your ladyship's creature. Vouchsafe, therefore, with the never-failing clemency of your noble disposition, not to contemn the tender of his duty, who, while he is, will ever be An humble servant to your Ladyship, and yours.
SCENE,- -FOR THE FIRST AND SECOND ACTS, IN MILAN; DURING PART OF THE THIRD,
IN THE IMPERIAL CAMP NEAR PAVIA; THE REST OF THE PLAY,
IN MILAN, AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
SCENE I.-MILAN. An outer Room in the
Castle.
Enter GRACCHO, JULIO, and GIOVANNI, with Flaggons.
Grac. Take every man his flaggon: give the
To all you meet; I am this day the state-drunkard,
I am sure against my will; and if you find
A man at ten that's sober, he's a traitor,
And, in my name, arrest him.
Jul. Very good, sir:
But, say he be a sexton ?
Grac. If the bells
Ring out of tune, as if the street were burning,
And he cry, 'Tis rare music! bid him sleep:
'Tis a sign he has ta'en his liquor; and if you meet
An officer preaching of sobriety,
Unless he read it in Geneva print,
Lay him by the heels.
Jul. But think you 'tis a fault
To be found sober?
Grac. It is capital treason:
Or, if you mitigate it, let such pay
Forty crowns to the poor: but give a pension
To all the magistrates you find singing catches,
Or their wives dancing; for the courtiers reeling,
And the duke himself, I dare not say distemper'd,
But kind, and in his tottering chair carousing,
They do the country service. If you meet
One that eats bread, a child of ignorance,
And bred up in the darkness of no drinking,
Against his will you may initiate him
In the true posture; though he die in the taking
His drench, it skills not: what's a private man,
For the public honour! We've nought else to
think on.
And so, dear friends, copartners in my travails,
Drink hard; and let the health run through the city,
Until it reel again, and with me cry,
Long live the dutchess!
Enter TIBERIO and STEPHANO.
Jul. Here are two lords ;-what think you? Shall we give the oath to them?
Grac. Fie! no: I know them,
You need not swear them; your lord, by his patent,
Stands bound to take his rouse. Long live the
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But one continued pilgrimage through dangers,
Affrights, and horrors, which his fortune, guided
By his strong judgment, still hath overcome,)
Appears now shaken, it deserves no wonder:
All that his youth hath labour'd for, the harvest
Sown by his industry ready to be reap'd too,
Being now at stake; and all his hopes confirm'd,
Or lost for ever.
Steph. I know no such hazard:
His guards are strong and sure, his coffers full; The people well affected; and so wisely
His provident care hath wrought, that though war
In most parts of our western world, there is
No enemy near us.
Tib. Dangers, that we see
To threaten ruin, are with ease prevented;
But those strike deadly, that come unexpected:
The lightning is far off, yet, soon as seen,
We may behold the terrible effects
That it produceth. But I'll help your knowledge,
And make his cause of fear familiar to you.
The wars so long continued between
The emperor Charles, and Francis the French king,
Have interess'd, in either's cause, the most
Of the Italian princes; among which, Sforza,
As one of greatest power, was sought by both;
But with assurance, having one his friend,
The other lived his enemy.
Steph. 'Tis true :
And 'twas a doubtful choice.
Tib. But he, well knowing,
And hating too, it seems, the Spanish pride, Lent his assistance to the king of France: Which hath so far incensed the emperor,
That all his hopes and honours are embark'd
With his great patron's fortune.
Steph. Which stands fair,
For aught I yet can hear.
Tib. But should it change,
The duke's undone. They have drawn to the field
Two royal armies, full of fiery youth;
Of equal spirit to dare, and power to do:
So near intrench'd, that 'tis beyond all hope
Of human counsel they can e'er be severed,
Until it be determined by the sword,
Who hath the better cause: for the success,
Concludes the victor innocent, and the vanquish'd
Most miserably guilty. How uncertain
The fortune of the war is, children know;
And, it being in suspense, on whose fair tent
Wing'd Victory will make her glorious stand,
You cannot blame the duke, though he appear
Perplex'd and troubled.
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She's constant to his bed, and well deserves
His largest favours. But, when beauty is
Stamp'd on great women, great in birth and fortune,
And blown by flatterers greater than it is,
'Tis seldom unaccompanied with pride;
Nor is she that way free: presuming on
The duke's affection, and her own desert,
She bears herself with such a majesty,
Looking with scorn on all as things beneath her,
That Sforza's mother, that would lose no part
Of what was once her own, nor his fair sister,
A lady too acquainted with her worth,
Will brook it well; and howsoe'er their hate
Is smother'd for a time, 'tis more than fear'd
It will at length break out.
Steph. He in whose power it is,
Turn all to the best!
Tib. Come, let us to the court;
We there shall see all bravery and cost,
That art can boast of.
Steph. I'll bear you company.
SCENE II.-Another Room in the same.
Enter FRANCISCO, ISABELLA, and MARIANA. Mari. I will not go; I scorn to be a spot In her proud train.
Isab. Shall I, that am his mother,
Be so indulgent, as to wait on her That owes me duty?
Fran. 'Tis done to the duke,
And not to her: and, my sweet wife, remember,
And, madam, if you please, receive my counsel,
As Sforza is your son, you may command him;
And, as a sister, you may challenge from him
A brother's love and favour: but, this granted,
Consider he's the prince, and you his subjects,
And not to question or contend with her
Whom he is pleased to honour. Private men
Prefer their wives; and shall he, being a prince,
And blest with one that is the paradise
Of sweetness, and of beauty, to whose charge
The stock of women's goodness is given up,
Not use her like herself?
Isab. You are ever forward
To sing her praises.
Mari. Others are as fair;
I am sure, as noble.
Fran. I detract from none,
In giving her what's due. Were she deform'd,
Yet being the dutchess, I stand bound to serve her;
But, as she is, to admire her. Never wife
Met with a purer heat her husband's fervour;
A happy pair, one in the other blest!
She confident in herself he's wholly hers,
And cannot seek for change; and he secure,
That 'tis 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 than folly: you know him of a nature
Not to be played with; and, should you forget
To obey him as your prince, he'll not remember
The duty that he owes you.
Come, clear our brows, and let us to the banquet; But not to serve his idol.
What may become the sister of a prince; But will not stoop beneath it.
Fran. Yet, be wise;
Soar not too high, to fall; but stoop to rise.
SCENE III.-A State Room in the same. Enter three Gentlemen, setting forth a Banquet. 1 Gent. Quick, quick, for love's sake! let the court put on
Her choicest outside: cost and bravery
Be only thought of.
2 Gent. All that may be had
To please the eye, the ear, taste, touch, or smell, Are carefully provided.
3 Gent. There's a masque :
Have you heard what's the invention ?
1 Gent. No matter :
It is intended for the dutchess' honour;
And if it give her glorious attributes,
As the most fair, most virtuous, and the rest,
"Twill please the duke. [Loud music.] They come.
3 Gent. All is in order.
Flourish. Enter TIBERIO, STEPHANO, FRANCISCO, SFORZA,
MARCELIA, ISABELLA, MARIANA, and Attendants.
Sfor. You are the mistress of the feast-sit here,
O my soul's comfort! and when Sforza bows
Thus low to do you honour, let none think
The meanest service they can pay my love,
But as a fair addition to those titles
They stand possest of. Let me glory in
My happiness, and mighty kings look pale
With envy, while I triumph in mine own.
O mother, look on her! sister, admire her!
And, since this present age yields not a woman
Worthy to be her second, borrow of
Times past, and let imagination help,
Of those canonized ladies Sparta boasts of,
And, in her greatness, Rome was proud to owe,
To fashion one; yet still you must confess,
The phoenix of perfection ne'er was seen,
But in my fair Marcelia.
Fran. She's, indeed,
The wonder of all times.
Tib. Your excellence,
Though I confess, you give her but her own,
Forces her modesty to the defence
Of a sweet blush.
Sfor. It need not, my Marcelia ;
When most I strive to praise thee, I appear
A poor detractor: for thou art, indeed,
So absolute in body and in mind,
That, but to speak the least part to the height,
Would ask an angel's tongue, and yet then end
In silent admiration!
Isab. You still court her,
As if she were a mistress, not your wife.
Sfor. A mistress, mother! she is more to me,
And every day deserves more to be sued to.
Such as are cloy'd with those they have embraced,
May think their wooing done: no night to me
But is a bridal one, where Hymen lights
His torches fresh and new; and those delights,
Which are not to be clothed in airy sounds,
Enjoy'd, beget desires as full of heat,
And jovial fervour, as when first I tasted
Her virgin fruit.-Blest night! and be it number'd
Amongst those happy ones, in which a blessing
Was, by the full consent of all the stars,
Conferr'd upon mankind.
Marc. My worthiest lord!
The only object I behold with pleasure,—
My pride, my glory, in a word, my all!
Bear witness, heaven, that I esteem myself
In nothing worthy of the meanest praise
You can bestow, unless it be in this,
That in my heart I love and honour you.
And, but that it would smell of arrogance,
To speak my strong desire and zeal to serve you,
I then could say, these eyes yet never saw
The rising sun, but that my vows and prayers
Were sent to heaven for the prosperity
And safety of my lord: nor have I ever
Had other study, but how to appear
Worthy your favour; and that my embraces
Might yield a fruitful harvest of content
For all your noble travail, in the purchase
Of her that's still your servant: By these lips,
Which, pardon me, that I presume to kiss-
Sfor. O swear, for ever swear!
Marc. I ne'er will seek
Delight but in your pleasure: and desire,
When you are sated with all earthly glories,
And age and honours make you fit for heaven,
That one grave may receive us.
Sfor. 'Tis believed,
Believed, my blest one.
Mari. How she winds herself Into his soul!
Fran. They wait your highness' pleasure, And when you please to have it.
Sfor. Bid them enter:
Come, make me happy once again. I am rapt-
'Tis not to-day, to-morrow, or the next,
But all my days, and years, shall be employ'd
To do thee honour.
Marc. And my life to serve you.
[A Horn without. Sfor. Another post! Go hang him, hang him, I I will not interrupt my present pleasures, [say; Although his message should import my head: Hang him, I say.
Marc. Nay, good sir, I am pleased
To grant a little intermission to you;
Who knows but he brings news we wish to hear, To heighten our delights.
I'll bear alone the burden of my grief,
And I have heard you swear, I being safe,
There was no loss could move you. This day, sir,
Is by your gift made mine. Can you revoke
A grant made to Marcelia? your Marcelia?—
For whose love, nay, whose honour, gentle sir,
All deep designs, and state-affairs deferr'd,
Be, as you purposed, merry.
Sfor. Out of my sight! [Throws away the Letter.
And all thoughts that may strangle mirth forsake
Fall what can fall, I dare the worst of fate: [me.
Though the foundation of the earth should shrink,
The glorious eye of heaven lose his splendour,
Supported thus, I'll stand upon the ruins,
And seek for new life here. Why are you sad?
No other sports! by heaven, he's not my friend,
That wears one furrow in his face. I was told
There was a masque.
And must admit no partner. I am yet
It is for thee I fear; for thee, thy Sforza Shakes like a coward: for myself, unmoved,
I could have heard my troops were cut in pieces,
My general slain, and he, on whom my hopes
Of rule, of state, of life, had their dependence,
The king of France, my greatest friend, made pri-
To so proud enemies.
[soner
Mare. Then you have just cause
To shew you are a man.
Sfor. All this were nothing,
Though I add to it, that I am assured,
For giving aid to this unfortunate king,
The emperor, incens'd, lays his command
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