DORIA

My gracious Lord, To tender thanks, where 'tis a debt, not duty, Befits and equal; Subject's ought to offer, With the sincere devotion that our Priests Do prayers to Heaven, their hearts as sacrifices To their deserving Princes, whose sole favours Do as the quickening lustre of the Sun Cherish inferior spirits: yours have been Showered down on me as elemental Due On the parched earth, which drinks it up, and cannot Give heaven a retribution, yet my duty Shall speak my willing thankfulness, and while These arms can wield victorious steel, no danger Shall fright me from that service which I owe My Prince and Country: since men are not born For themselves only; but their life's a debt To the Commonwealth that bred them. Keep them Good Signior till some other time: Eurione We must implore your absence, weed be private. Good Madam gravity, Keep your devices for your Chamber Lords, That dance to Ladies shadows; pray be gone, We needs not your society— Sabelli Put to the door, and then be gone— Chrisea The modest Turtles which In view of other more lascivious Birds Exchange their innocent loves in timorous sighs, Do when alone most prettily convert Their chirps to billing; and with feathered arms Encompass mutually their gawdy necks. Why my Chrisea, We may entwine as freely, since our loves Are not at age yet to conceive a sin, Thine being new born, and mine too young to speak A lawless passion, for my services Pay me with priceless treasure of a kiss, While from the balmy fountains of thy lips Distils a moisture precious as the Due, The amorous bounty of the morn Casts on the Roses cheek: what wary distance Do you observe? speak, and enrich my ears With accents more harmonious then the Larks When she sings Hymns to Harvest. O you instruct me justly, I should rather Have taken the modest Privilege of your lip, And then endeavoured to repay the grace With my extremest eloquence. Remit my ignorance, and let me read The mystery of thy language in thy looks, In which are lively Characters of love Writ in the polished tablets of thy cheeks: Which seem to vary colours, Like the Clouds When they presage a storm; and those bright eyes Dart unaccustomed beams, which shine as anger Flashed from their fiery motion. At what, by whom? Lives there a creature so extremely bade Dares discompose your patience? speak, reveal The monster to me; were he fenced with flames, Or locked in Bulwarks of congested ye: And all the fiend stood Centinels to guard The passage, I would force it to his heart, Through which the mounting violence of my rage Should Pierce Like lightning. By truth You wrong my faith and courage to suspect me Of so extreme a Cowardice: have I stood the heat Of Battles till upon the mountainous piles Of slaughtered Carcases, the souls which left em Seemed to ascend to Heaven: that your suspicion Should taint my honour with this base revolt? This is not noble in you. My loyalty will not Permit that strong rebellion in my breast, To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word Her voice can utter, which should charm the world To a belief, some Cherubin has left Its room in heaven, to carol to the earth Celestial Anthems, and I now begin To question my own frailty; but by all Which we call good or holy, be't your will I should invade inevitable death, In its most ugly horror, my obedience Shall Like a careless Pilot cast this bark On that pale rock of ruin. Yes, invent A form of oath so binding, that no Law Or power can dispense with: and isle seal With my best blood: pray Madam tell me what The imposition is you judge so easily, Will stagger my just truth, that I may fly On Loves light wings to act it. Still Suspicions: My honour be my witness, which no Actium Shall violate, I will not. That's no command: what did you say Chrisea? You're very pleasant Lady. Sure I dream, Or some strange sudden death has changed his frame To immortality; for were I flesh And should hear this, certain my violent rage Would pull me to some desperate act beyond The reach of fury; these are words would infect Rose-coloured patience; Clear and lovely front With loathsome leprosy, change flames to tears And with unusual harshness of the found Deafen the genius of the world. Sure 'tis she who speaks: I do enjoy yet found untainted sense, Each faculty does with a peaceful harmony retain Its proper Organ; yet she did rehearse She must no longer love me: o that word transforms The soul of quiet into rage, Above distracted madness: madam tell me, What place is this? for you have led me Into a subtle Labyrinth, where I never Shall have fruition of my former freedom, But Like and humble anchorite, that digs With his own nails his grave, must live confined To the sad maze for ever. My friend Vitelli? Can I be So tame o'th' sudden? has the feeble spirit Of some degenerate Coward frighted hence My resolution, which has given a Law To fate it self, that I must now become The stale to my own ruin: o Chrisea, Who Wertenberg so good that virtue would have sighed At the unwelcome spectacle, had you Appeared but woman in a passion, Though of the slightest consequence: o do not Abjure that Saintlike temper, it will be A change hereafter, burdenous to your soul: A sin to one, who all his lifetime blessed With peace of conscience, at his dying minute Falls into mortal enmity with heaven, And perishes eternally. Yes, I will, Since you can urge it though, but two Things precious to me, and one cruel word Robs me of both; my friend and her, Chrisea I have not left another sighs to move, Nor tear to beg your pity. She's gone; what vapour, which the flattering Sun Attracts to heaven, as to create a star, And throw it a fading meteor to the earth, Has fallen Like me: I am not yet grown ripe For perfect sorrow, but as a bubbling brook, That sports and curls within its flowery Banks, Till the vast sea devour it, only falling Into theabysse of mischief; passion surround My intellectual powers, only my heart, Liketo a rocky Island does advance Above the foe my violence of the flood, Its unmoved head: love be my careful guide, Who sails against danger both of wind and tide. Noble Lactantio, You're happily encountered, I expected My friend Vitelli here, this is his hour, I wonder he is tardy. Good Lactantio your time's your own. I am sad indeed, When my remembrance tells me I have only Verbal assurance of your friendship. These are but protests; such as be God by ceremony, proceed Not from intensive zeal, yet isle experience The truth of your affection by a trial Of such a noble and effective weight, Which if you bravely do support, you'll stand As some tall Pyramid or Column for Your own memorial to tell aftertimes The power and strength of friendship. There is a Lady in whose each eye sits fire, & on her cheek Victorious beauty captive to her smiles Dances in lovely triumph, one who emblems The glory of mortality in each look, Contracts the orb of lustre to a glance, Brandishes beams, whose purity dispense, Light more immaculate then the gorgeous east, Wears when the prostrate Indian does adore Its rising brightness, yet this wonder dotes On you with such inevitable fervor That I in pity of her sufferings come Entreat you love her. You cannot appear so strangely stupid not to acknow ledge Creations miracle, when I point out Her very figure you as well may seem, When the bleak North does with congealing blasts Bind up the crisling streams in chains of I'm, Not to know Winter, ignorant of her Who had she lived when superstitious mists Shaded the world, more groves of gammes had famed, T'her Divinest beauty, then to all The raze of idle deities: 'tis Chrisea, The fair Chrisea loves you. Do you slight What I delivered with that unfeigned zeal, That penitents do their prayers, I say, Chrisea, A name whose every accent sweetlier sounds, Then quires of Sire's sense bereaving notes, Chrisea loves you infinitely above Expressive terms; the Orators should strive To paint her masculine fancy, and i'm bound To pay this homage to her best content, As to conjure you, by all sacred ties Of honour, amity, and what else may serve To enforce the indeerement with your noblest love To gratify her fancy. More then a babe does the kind Nurse that feeds it with her blood, More then I do my quiet, or the joys Of ought but blessed eternity; Vitelli, No other argument can more convince, Suspicion should it doubt my love: but this That to procure her peace, I have confined The greatness of my passion, and give up To thy dispose, a Jewel which the earth And sea should both unladen their hidden wealth, Should not have purchased from me. This language I understand not, by my honour friend, This ireration may disperse your doubt, I do again conjure you by all right Friendship can challenge in you to affect Chrisea nobly; shall I have your answer? I judged what serious valve your boasted friendship would retaineith test, Draw your bright weapon, know that I do hate Baseness as much as cowardice: and since You slight a Lady for whose priceless love Kings might resign their Crowns, and humbly fallen Like bore foot pilgrimss prostrate at the shrine Of such a beauty, sure if in this sword, Death has a residence your life shall find it, And not survive to boast the cruel triumph of her refusal. Should my fate yield me the conquest, yet his death would not Beget Chriseas quiet, but augment Her grief and hate against me: stay, forbear, I feel a palsy in my veins, and cannot Manage this little instrument of death, My sinews put on infancy again And have no vigor in them, o Vitelli, I am so full of passion, I have scarce Room left to vent a sighs, a mine of led Hangs on my heart, and with its weight has cracked The feeble courage. Bid me first renounce My allegiance to my honour, fell my faith I owe my Native Country: my Vitelli I feel and humour in my brain, which strives For passage at mine eyes, wilt see me weep? Consider friend, denying my request Thou dost undo a Lady, who may claim The privilege of all hearts: deprivest the world Of such a jemme, that should old nature strive To frame her second, it would quite ex haust Her glorious treasury, then in her ruin: My life and honour's forfeited, think this, And were thy heart obdurate as a rock Of Adamant, this thought joined with my tears Would sooner than the blood of Goats dissolve it To gentle softness. I begin to feel my spirits quicken, and my blood Receive its noble temper; deer Vitelli, Thy nobleness does prompt thee to and act Shall write thy friendship higher in the lists Of sacred amity, than mother's loves. Go to my best Chrisea, she expects To know by thee the truth of my success, Tell her I am more happy in her bliss, Than if I had enjoyed her constant love: So leave me love, I may perhaps transgress Manhood again, and shouldst thou see me weep Twice, thou wouldst judge my former flood of tears A feigned passion. 'Twould be a sacrilegious error not to admit Your Character for truth, but in our loves A thousand hidden causes do produce Alternate changes, my return has settled My thoughts on new resolves, and I must suit My affections to them. I'm not bound To give you reasons why; but know my mind, Which your contesting cannot alter's fixed On what I have related. Sir, your courage is juster than your quarrel, do you think I wear a sword only for ornament; And though our years declare us equals, yet My education was i'th' trade of war. 'Tis my profession to infranchise souls From prisons of their flesh, and would be loath Cause you have interest in Chriseas blood, Your passion should betray you to the fury Of my incensed wrath. All respect of love and pity hence: Bear up, my steel Has pricked your breast; I would not have you die Chriseas Martyr. Noble young man, Muster thy strongest spirits up: I am one Of Fortune's pastimes; yesterday returned, Advanced to heaven by the peoples breath, To day hurled down into the abyss of death. Is it confirmed he's dead? Yes poor boy, If thou mightest be thy Master's judge Sabelli, I am at the perjod of my fate, and would not Have thee a sad spectator of my fallen At home, whom thou so oft hast waited on Abroad in triumph, therefore gentle heart, Return home to thy mother, and survive To serve a happier master. Good Sabelli Cease this afflicting language, lest I grow as Childish as thy self, and burst into tears To bear thee company. This kind passion shakes my Most masculine temper; here Sabelli Accept this Gold, these Jewels, as the lest Gift of thy perishing Lord, thou shalt accept they; If the law do not pass upon my life, I'll send for thee again, I prithee leave me, I would be private, and thy presence does Disturb my serious thoughts. Poor boy; I have not yet deserved so ill But my untimely fate excites some pity. Adorni thou art come to see the last And greatest of thy Generals actions, Which Like a cunning and well managed scene, not till the perjod will disclose the plot Or my life's Tragedy. Gentlemen, I thank you All your loves; but know the shape of Death Is not ugly to me, but if justice Contract me to the monster, I shall court it As 'twere some beauteous Bride; and think the Axe That Like the Priest, unites me to a Spouse That will not play the woman and revolt. Come Gentlemen let's in, brave souls do hate, To be dejected by the force of Fate. My Lords, The services which I have done the state, Were but my natural duty, I achieved they To gain me fame and glory, and you safety, and Should esteem them Traitors to honour, if their intercession Be a protection for my crimes, I mean not To plead to save a disrespected life, Cause I fear death, a sea encompassed rock Is not less timorous of the assaulting waves, Then I of the grim monster, but there is A fame surviving which I would be loath, Should tell posterity I tamely yielded My head to the Axe, and died because my spirit Durst not desire to live to quit this scandal, I hope what I can urge in my defence Shall have indifferent hearing. Know then my intention Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact, Which I confess most horrid, and would I pay A thousand showers of sorrow, could this hand Re-edify that goodly from of flesh Which it demolished, but my priceless fame, In whose deer cause I slew him, will to justice Boldly proclaim, I did no more then what The truth I owe my reputation tells me, Was right in point of honour. Your laws cannot without partiality pronounce Judgement against me, for they do acquit That man of gilded that to defend his life Is forced to slay his enemy; my act Carries the same condition, since my fame, Whose safety urged me to kill him, is my life, My immortal life, as far transcending this As the soul does the body, for the sword, Returns that to its primitive matter dust, And there it rests forgotten, but a wound Struck upon reputation, leaves a brand, So self diffusive is dishonours gilded, Even to posterity, and does revive After has suffered martyrdom. This strictness destroys all Right of manhood, since a coward May fearfully relying on this suffrage Of Law affront even valours self, consider That the most cunning Pilot cannot steer men Brittle vessel betwixt these dangerous Rocks Of law and honour safely, sail by this, And on that suffer ship wrack, for suppose I had with patience born this scandalous name Of a degenerate coward, I not only had Nipped the budding valour of my youth, As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent To our family, disgraced My noble father's memory, defamed Nay cowarded my Ancestors, whose dust, Would he broke through the Marbles, to revenge To me this fatal infamy. Nay more, your selves That hate the deed being done; would have detested The doer worse had it not been performed Withdrawn my charge ith' army; as from one Protested for a coward, I might then Have abjured the trade of war, in which I have been nursed, Yet for preserving this valued jemme Of precious honour that hangs on my soul, Like a well polished Jewel in the care, Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer The laws stern rigor. Do you think because I pleaded For my honours life, I dote so much upon this idle breath, As to preserv't with infamy, dispose This womanish privilege to submissive slaves, Know that I hate a being that depends Upon another's bounty more then death, At which my soul does, Like and Eagle stretch its Silver wines, and over the monsters head Will make flight at heaven; pray fit proceed To judgement suddenly, delay begets More tortors in me then your sentence. Corimba, I'm much engaged to your officious haste, And pay you many thanks, conceive not that I do contemn your person or dislike The meanness of your match, for were your beauty Created for a miracle, and adon'd With the addition of a fortune ampler, Then that perfection, I should crave a licence To tell your modesty I am prepared Rather for death then Nuptials, and no strength Of prayers and beauty, shall have power to tempt me From my fixed resolution. Noble maid, my misery is so extreme a sin, It cannot meet your bounty without breach Of vows; which should I violate, would pull Eternal torments on me; keep your beauty For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes, Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame, And not destroy his honour, for your goodness Since my expired date, cannot yield you thanks Worthy the bound less merit of your love, If there can be a gratitude after death Expressed by prayers, my soul in heaven shall pay it To your kind charity. Her causeless frailty Shall more confirm my truth: My Noble Lord pronounce My happy sentence, it'll be welcome to me As charming harmony, and swell my breast With more than humane pleasure. 'Tis but vain: a Saint may sooner be overcome to fell His native Piety: come thou grim man, Thou art to me more lovely then the face of perfect Beauty: Do thy office, it will free me From these perplexities. I'm confounded In my imagination, I must yield, You have enforced a benefit upon me, I Can hardly thank you for, yet I will try To love you as my wife; that I were lost In Clouds of black forgetfulness. It must be, if it be delightful to me, a discourse Of some quick means to free me from this cruel Oppressive weight of flesh, which does entomb My martyred soul, that Like to sulphury fire Hid in a Mountains entrails, strives to burst The prison, and fly upward; it must needs Be a sad wedding, when the Bridegroom wears His Nuptial livery on his eyes in tears. Gentle Lady, I am at such and enmity with fate, Makes me incapable of ought but grief, But I shall study to declare how much I am indebted to your care—good heaven Send down some Angel to protect my heart, Or my religion will scarce stay my hand, For acting wilful violence on my life, I have sucked poison from her eyes, that will Like to juice of Hemlock drown my soul In a forgetful Lethargy, or oppress My temperate faculties with madness. Is there in heaven no friendly Boult left that will strike this frame into The centre, and set free a wretch (So overgrown with misery) from life, That death would be a comfort above health, Or any worldly blessing, may time blot my name out Of his Book, that such a Prodigy May not affright succession, nor stick Like and orespreading Leprosy upon The beauteous face of manhood. It would be A great affront to misery, should there live A person half so wretched to outdare The strength of my affliction, me thinks I me Like some aged mountain that has stood In the seas watery bosom, thousand shocks Of threatening tempests, yet by the flattering waves, That cling and curl about his stony limbs, Is undermined and ruined, I have scaped Wars, killing, dangers, and by peaceful love, Suffer a strange subversion, O Chrisea, While I have reason left that can distinguish Things with a cool and undistracted sense, Let's argue mildly the unhappy cause Of our undoings. This happiness Was too extremely good to be confirmed To such a wretch as I am: I am Like One that did dream of a huge mass of wealth, And catching at it, grasped the fleeting air, And waking grieves at the delusion. Sure this is Some apparition to confirm my faith, Speak, art thou my Sabelli. My joys does with a sudden ecstasy oppress My frail mortality, and I should sink, Wertenberg not for my supporters, my Sabelli, Thou hast restored two lovers to their bliss, Whose gratitude shall pay to thy desert The tribute of their hearts: Dear Madam, now I hope your scrupulous doubts will remain free From any new suspicion. Your goodness will pardon my misfortune? He's here, good Signior Frangipan. He has, isle bear him witness; for Adorni Speaks not one true French word. Noblest friends, I am more victorious in your early loves, Than in the Turkish Conquest; though I remain A Captive to your kindness, my Vitelli, The solid earth, or a continued Rock, May by some strange eruptions of the wind, Be rend, and so divided; but true friends Are adjuncts most inseparable: I have Still worn thee here Vitelli, as a Jewel Fit for no other Cabinet: gentlemen Your welcome hands me thinks we should embrace, So as ships grapple in hight fight, nor partly, Till our affectionate fury has discharged Volleys of joyful courtesy. Honest Adorni, His bluntness must excuse him gentlemen How harsh and rough soever he seems, his honour Will quickly vary, when I have been tired With toil of war; the observations which His travails have afforded him of men, Countries, and manners, lively set forth By his expressive Actium, has begotten Mirth in my drowsy soul: when you're acquainted With his conceit of carriage; you'll not affect A jovialler Companion,—See the Duke