JUSTINIANO

Thy Character of me, loved Spinola, Thus far I may without vain glory own, Truly to love my friend, yet hate no man, And since mine own experience finds how well Thou dost the one, I would persuade the other; Nor would I now convert thee to a Stoic, To make thee think there are no injuries, Or if there be, that wise men cannot feele'm, These, I confess, are not compatible With thy condition; on th'other side, I can encourage none, much less my friend To take a scandal, when there is none given, To call that injury, which is in truth A liberty that every man may challenge; Or if Imperial ought to have waved the same, Yet since the will is free, thou couldst expect But Fatherly persuasion, to incline the affections of his daughter, all the rest Is ravishment, or tyranny at best. Let it be what thy fancy apprehends, Which scarce appears in the least circumstance, Yet generous spirits at poor contumelies, As seldom stoop as Eagles do to Flies. The gilded of one base act. If we within find cause of jealousy. Yes, those that take their honour upon trust. Then every puff of wind will scatter it. How can we call that ours, which must depend On the rash will, and vainer voice of others? But herein thou most slightest thy self to doubt Thou canst be undervalved by any, Much more contemned by him that dares not think Himself to be the worthier, but that thou Suggests it for him, in thy vain suspicion: They that believe themselves despised, confess And inward doubt of their own worthiness. Does he continue in such violence As at the first? These are, I must confess, the noted symptoms Of a hurt fancy; he's of a high spirit Apt to resent a wrong (if it could be) From fate it self; but, where he takes, a friend, On whom a man may built, as on a rock. Yes, one that dares assist you In a more valiant act, to crush that Fury, And to restore brave Spinola to himself. A heavy fate, yet such as should be born Without so strange a tumult, what you give T'unbridled rage, you take from your revenge. Yes, such as law and Justice shall allow. It's now not seasonable To tell you whither Justice, Fortitude, And th'other virtues may be called creatures; But I must tell you, that no creature can Be happy, wanting them; whereof that man Deprives himself, that subjugates his reason, On which they all depend, to brutish passion; Could you but be persuaded to reflect Upon your self, to see as in a glass, What a deformity this vice hath brought Upon your soul, although you hated me, You would embrace my counsel. No, nor you your self, 'Twas nothing but a strong impression made In your disturbed imagination. That happens often to perplexed minds. Let me persuade you But to retire, perhaps some mild repose May softly steal upon your troubled spirits, To give you ease. Wait on him in, I'll follow presently. The best Physicians in extremities, Allow their Patients what they most desire, Though never so seeming hurtful: when diseases Exceed their safe and usual remedies, They many times are cured by contraries: What should this mean? Upon condition you'll forbear all outrage. Stand here then, and be silent. That man That is transported by a desperate rage, Disarms himself, he that may hinder mischief, And yet permits it, is and accessary. That which had been a crime Not to prevent, were wickedness to act. If thou killest Thy self, thereby thou dost confess a gilded. It's wretchedness, Not to be able to bear misery, It is not as thou thinkest, renowned Doriam, A virtue to hate life, but to endure These weighty strokes of Fortune valiantly, And this becomes thy noble birth and spirit, On which th'afflictions of the world should fallen, But as tempestuous showers into the sea. What needs we care how powerful our foes be? When slaves can bring us to such misery? Whose innate cruelties at length appear, Though they the same may cunningly forbear, For their own ends; it is not wisdom then To place our trust in such conditioned men, Whom punishments, and wants, and fears prepare To hatred, to deceit, and to despair: Yet these are but poor instruments, the cause That on our heads heavens indignation draws, Springs from our selves, st which ther's no defence 1 lines The unexpected death of his deer son, So wounds his soul, that his distracted fancy Suggests belief, he saw and hard him speak, But that cannot seem strange, if we consider How far imagination does usurp Upon the power of Reason, though it be A faculty coincident to Bruits, Receiving objects from the common sense; But these his perturbations I suspect To flow from mixed affections, grief, and anger, The last of which, Sinks deepest in the hearts Of most of us Italians, and I doubt That he thereby having involved himself In that, which is our Nations crime, Revenge; Hath been by th'other faction undermined: If this be, his disease is curable, Yet so, as every virtuous man must think The remedy as bade as the disease, Unless strict Justice do become avenger, Or that their own sad fates appease his rage; Oh how it wounds my heart to see my friend And one that truly merits that name But for that vice, whereof not to be guilty Is made a vice here, by the Tyrant custom) Plunged in distress, that cannot receive counsel: But could he once with safety be restored To his own native ingenuity, He would detest such crimes; his candid soul Appears in this, that in the amid of fury, The sighed or name of him he loved before Can Orpheus-like calm his enraged spirit: I therefore am obliged by sacred friendship Even to devote my self to all joust means Of his recovery, and I will perform it, To cure Orestes (If the Heavens so please) There shall not want a faithful Pylades. I, and above the glory of Hercules, Or what bold Greece hath left in histories Of her great Captains, to their endless fame, They Monsters, Kingdoms, and their Jousts overcame: Cato fought not with Beasts, nor did live when Was thought that Heaven might be born up by men, But in and age when (barbarism being fled) All industry and learning flourished; And in that time did bravely set upon That Monster, in many shapes, Ambition, With all the crimes of Room, and when the State Was ready even to sink with its own weight He it supported with his only hand; And did (as much as one man could) withstand Rome's instant fate, till forced to let her go He became partner in her overthrow; And so one ruin did them both oppress; Whom to have severed had been wickedness; For was it fit that liberty should die And Cato live? that had been contumely, Not the purgation of a mouth that might As well have done the Sun or Moon despite: But I will leave thee to thy thoughts a while, For wholesome counsel Like safe Physic is Unpleasant in the taste, and must have time To work upon the humour; thou that art master Of so much worth, wilt master in the end Those passion that with reason now contend.