FIORMONDA

Ferentes. You are one loves Courtship, He had some change of words; 'twere no lost labour To stuste your Table-books, the man speaks wisely. My Lord and brother. Should form, my Lord, Prevail above affection? no, it cannot. You have your self here a right noble Duchess, (Virtuous at least) and should your grace now pay (Which heaven forbid) the debt you owe to Nature, I dare presume, shee'd not so soon forget A Prince that thus advanced her.—Madam, could you? Exceeding good; the man will undertake: Observe it, Da'uolos. Now take thy time, or never, Da'uolos; Prevail, and I will raise thee high in grace.— My Lord Fernando, what, so hard at study? You are a kind companion to your self, That love to be alone so. So, so, Sir, (leave us Julia) your own proof By travel and prompt observation, Instruct you how to place the use of speech; But since you are at leisure, pray let's fit; Wee'll pass the time a little in discourse: What have you seen abroad? At home! as how? What sighed? What miracle? Fie, fie, your wit hath too much edge. It's for your Princes sake then, not for mine. Pray tell it. Now good my Lord, no more of him. Sir, enough; it's true, He well deserved your labour; on his deathbed This Ring he gave me, bade me never partly With this, but to the man I loved as dearly As I loved him; yet since you know which way To blaze his worth so rightly, in return To your deserts, wear this for him and me. It's yours. True, I said so. Why man, that Testament is disannulled, And ncell'd quite by us that live: look here, My blood is not yet freezed; for better instance Be judge your self, experience is no danger: old are my sighs; but feel, my lips are warm. To new kiss The oath to thee, which while he lived was his: Hast thou yet power to love? To meet Sweetness of language in discourse as sweet. What was't you said? Prevented? mischief on this interruption. To Court! indeed You have some cause to speak; he undertook Most Championlike to win the prize at tilt, In honour of your picture.—Marry did he: There's not a Groom o'th Querry, could have matched The jolly riding man; pray get him back, I do not needs his service, Madam, I. Honour? puh, Honour is talked of more than known by some. How? is't even so? I shall quit this wrong. On the sudden I fallen a bleeding, it's and ominous sign; Pray heaven it turn to good.—Your highness leave.— A subject fit To be the stall of laughter. Sir, I think, in princes Courts, no age nor greatness But must admit the fool; in me 'twere folly To scorn what greater states than I have been. A fool; I thank your Highness; many a woman's wit Have thought themselves much better, was much worse. No more, thou hast, in this discovery, Exceeded all my favours, D'auolos. Is't mistress Madam Duchess? brave revenge. Or change him, or confound him, prompt dissembler! Is here the bound of his Religious vow? And that, now when the Duke is rid abroad, My Gentleman will stay behind, is sick—or so. What means the jolly youth? A fool? you might as well would given your self: Whence is he? By him? well, I accept him; thank you for't: And in requital, take that Tooth picker. It's yours. Make use on't as you list; here D'auolos, Take in the Fool. Wilt go with me, chick? Come D'auolos, observe to night; it's late: Or I will win my choice, or curse my fate. You needs not, Madam. Madam, I must ntreat excuse; I feel The temper of my body not in case To judge the strife. Let they have time enough, and as thou canst, Be near to hear their Courtship, D'auolos. Speak D'auolos, how thrives intelligence? Is't true? To stir up Tragedies as black as brave; And sending the Lecher panting to his grane.— If she entreat, it's ten to one the man Is wone before hand. I shall fit ye, I have a natural. Apparent impudence. Well put off, Secretary. It's a peevish play, Your Knave will heave the Queen out, or your King; Beside, it's all on fortune. ARt thou Caraffa? is there in thy veins One drop of blood that issued from the loins Of Pavy's ancient Dukes? or dost thou fit On great Lorenzo's seat, our glorious father, And canst not blush to be so far beneath The spirit of Heroic ancestors? Canst thou engross a slavish shame? which men, Far far below the Region of thy state, Not more abhor, then study to revenge. Thou and I alian? I could burst with rage, To think I have a brother so befooled, In patience to a harlots lust. What is she, but the sallow-coloured brat Of some unlanded bankrupt? taught to catch The casie fancies of young prodigal bloods, In springs of her stew-instructed Art? Here's your most Virtuous Duchess, your rare piece. Be a Prince? Th'hadst better, Duke, thou hadst been born a peasant. Now boys will sing thy scandal in the streets, Tune Ballads to thy infamy, get money By making Pageants of thee, and invent Some strangely-shaped man-beast, that may for horns Resemble thee, and call it Pavy's Duke. Why now I hear you speak in majesty. Or what? you will be mad? be rather wise: Think on Ferentes first, and think by whom The harmless youth was slaughtered: had he lived, He would have told you tales: Fernando feared it; And to prevent him, under show, forsooth, Of rare device, most trimly cut him off. Have you yet eyes, Duke? For looking on a sighed shall split your soul You shall not care, undertake my self To do't some two days hence, for needs to night, But that you are in Court. It's, and sudden too, And not without some mystery. Maurucio, you did once proffer true love To me, but since you are more thriftier sped, For old affections sake here take this gold, Spend it for my sake. My Lord Fernando. Do you note my brother's odd distractions? You were wont to bosom in his Counsels; I am sure you know the ground on't. Is't possible? what would you say, my Lord, If he, out of some melancholy spleen, Edged on by some thank picking Parasite, Should now prove jealous? I mistrust it shrewdly. Yes; for but observe, A Prince, whose eye is chooser to his heart, Is seldom steady in the lists of love, Unless the party he affects do match His rank in equal portion, or in friends: I never yet, out of report, or else By warranted description, have observed The nature of fantastic Jealousy, If not in him; yet on my conscience now, He has no cause. I never thought her less, yet trust me, Sir, No merit can be greater than your praise, Whereat I strangely wonder; how a man Vowed, as you told me, to a single life, Should so much Deify the Saints, from whom You have disclaimed devotion. You are too wise, Fernando: to be plain. You are in love; nay shrink not, man, you are: Biancha is your aim; why do you blush? She is, I know she is. Yes, yours; I hope I talk no news: Fernando, know Thou runnest to thy confusion, if in time Thou dost not wisely shun that Circe's charm. Unkindest man! I have too long concealed My hidden flames, when still in silent signs I Courted thee for love; without respect To youth or state, and yet thou art unkind. Fernando, leave that Sorceress, if not For love of me, for pity of thy self. What gone! well, go thy ways; I see the mor I humble my firm love, the more he shuns Both it and me: so plain! then it's too late To hope; change peevish passion to contempt: What ever rages in my blood I feel, Fool he shall know I was not born to kneel, NOW fly revenge, and wound the lower earth, That I, en-sphear'd above, may cross the raze Of Love despised, and triumph over their graves, Who scorn the low-bent thraldom of my heart. Treason to wedlock, this would make you sweat. Ignoble strumpet. Here's fast and loo e; Which for a Ducat, now the game's on foot. Take this, take all. Dost thou halt? faint Coward, dost thou wish. To blemish all thy glorious Ancestors? Is this thy Courage? Then, while thy rage is warm, Pursue the Can er of her trespasses. Here's royal vengeance: this becomes the state Of his disgrace, and my unbounded fate.— Strange miracle! Roseilli I must honour thee: thy truth, Like a transparent mirror, represents My reason with my errors. Noble Lord, That better dost deserve a better fate, Forgive me; if my heart can entertain Another thought of love, it shall be thine. Fellow, learn to new live the way to thrift For thee in grace, is a repentant shrift. Save my brother, save him. Since it's thus, My Lord Roseilli, in the true requita l Of your continued love, I here possess You of the Dukedom; and with it, of me, In presence of this holy Abbot. O me! is this your love? I embrace it: Happy too late, since lust hath made me foul, Henceforth I'll dress my Bridebed in my soul. A mate! No, Madam; you are grown too hard for me: My Lord Fernando is a fitter match. Now show thy my brother, brave Caraffa.