FERRANDO

Bid me forsake heaven, my virtue, honour, And all that's good — I have shook off all Those weights that clogged my bosom— We can smile, Shows it not hand some? How art thou lost Ʋ rsini! Discredited to truth by this vile flattery! Thou shouldst have said, heaven smiled, when set with clouds Black as nights swarthy mantle, when the air Breaks out in hideous cracks, that cleave the Temple, And strike dead the devout Priest at the Altar: For this and easy faith would have believed, As having less of contradiction in't: My soul is rapt with furies, here they gnaw, Like knotted Adders wrapped about my heart. O! my sides swell as they would break, they want A hoop, lend me your arm, — What breath is that, that mocks us With a false found of our Calantha's life? She lives; yet let old time add to his age But one short pair of minutes, she shall be No more: What help from this? Thus my Virginio. My best, my dearest Virginio: thou dost breath A music to my soul, cures my distemper: Thou art and honest man, we'll found a College, With a large pension to maintain the Students In thy rare science; thou shalt govern there, And when thou diest, we'll built a monument Unto thy name, taller than Egypt's Pyramids. For thee Ʋ rsini, we will only live To do thee honour, that shall be our glory; The world shall know thee great, and envy thee Thy share, both in our kingdom, and our soul. Ʋ rsini thou must quit some interest in my love, Calantha — My faculties are grown All to one power, called love, and you engross it Whole to your self; yet have it still entire To my Calantha, it's a diverse flame, That burns me, yet but one, each takes it's difference, And being from the object, be you still My friend, & thou my love, whom when we have once joined Unto our amorous folds, thus we will move And of our arms make a new sphere for love. Let us pay our last duties. It's well; enough is wept for Sicily; cheer up, We have other vows to pay, and as religious ones As these: we made them at the Altar; and If we perform them not, shall forfeit all Our after joys:— remove those objects there; We have no use of fables now; they breed Melancholy thoughts; we will be loud, And big in mirth, as full of pride as noise, Till we draw envy on our revels; which Nor fate, nor the dull Stoic shall control, Whose sullen faith is the disease of's soul. —Let me eternally perish to honour, If their heads answer not for this foul insolence. Away with they to execution; Him, and his fellow murderer, away: —Pardon a Traitor? Better they played with lightning, Or hugged a thunderbolt. O the state of Princes! How far are we from that security, We dreamt of in th'en pectance of our crown? Were foreign dangers nothing, yet we nourish Our ruin in our bosom: Valenzo is a traitor, So is Piero too; and who is not in this age? It is unsafe not to suspect our self. To torture with they; be noble in thy justice:— Here draw a warrant for their execution; — We'll sign't with our own signer;—hence pity, Post from our breast; we banish thee our bosom Th'art a disease bred there to ruin Majesty: Ursini prepa ring to write. And sink us below our Subject's scotue.— Thou art so eager after heaven, Thou wilt o're-buy thy happiness. But thy devotion's seasoned with so much charity, Thou pil'st a stock of merit up for us At Court. As long as we live here we shall; — Would! what frowne's that, whence these clouds, Charin than? So rises the blushing morn, as thou Wertenberg wont To smile, when thou appearedst, we owe Our day unto thy eyes; and if thou thinkest Thy beauty's worn too cheap, we'll become tributaries To thee for light; chase hence this sullen darkness, Thy absence has already made too long A night. Your King. Look to'th Lady there, sure she's distracted. What wrongs? whence? or from whom? Innocence it self is not so white. Ʋ rsini, thou hast abused our trust. Would! What's here a pardon? Again my own Ʋ rsini: — Charintha, pardon our errors, we will deserve it, By the future love, and honours we will throw On our Valenzo, — here take my signer Fetch they to Court. Ʋ rsini Wait on her to the Castle. I'll tell him too how he Would grieve if I were dead, go hanging down His head, vailing his eyes from heaven, ashamed To look up to the place, where his Felicia is: Or poring on the ground, as he would find Where my neglected ashes lay a sport To the winds; where some rude blast might blow me up Into his eyes, and then hee'd weep to find, Me there; weep till the fretting brine had burned His eye-bals out. He told me of his dreams, what pleasure he Had to find me in they: alas they will Be terrible now: I shall affright him, appear A thin pale ghost, make him start out in his sleep; (Alas! I will not) yet he'll dream he herd me. Cry out, Ferrando! revenge upon Ferrando: This cannot choose but startle him. — Our Navy victor. To Heaven, Elyzium's poor to what we shall Enjoy to night. The birth of fancy, A thin, fantastic, airy paradise; With which they flatter their weak Hope's, but mine Is known to sense; we gather odours there; wealthy In their native sweetness, flowers of a hew As bright as lasting, roses and lilies Blown from their stalks, meet here, and dwell upon Her cheeks, as if there only they were privileged To enjoy and everlasting spring. Ʋ rs. Let your Imaginations seed even to a surfeit, your senses Are too too weak, and narrow t'entertaine The bounteous flowing of her pleasures: You'll let so much pass by unknown, As if you took but tribute of her blessings: When the whole stock is yours. We'll be her Mars, and meet her in soft skirmish, In amorous duel, where we'll softly yield And let her win: (to raise her to the pride Of a new victory, as much upon our selves As we have done upon her Country, Then shall she bind us gently in her hair Fetters for Captive lovers, and in scorn Of our trim youth, and temperate blood, when we Begin to faint within her arms, shall then Supply us with new strength from her own eyes; Whence she will dart a soul at every glance Rich as her self, and the blessed smiles t'is made of; Create and active flame within our breast Able to give old statua's life and motion, Make their stiff marble feet supple as the joints Of love: — o I'm lost! my Venus Come; led to my Venus. Ʋ rsini, Would! Seest thou that black thing there? That ugly fiend, I'll out stare thee, devil. Ravished! Calantha's ravished—o torment! Grim fury post to hell. O my blood scalds, h'has shot wild fire into my heart, Ah traitor, thy steel is poisoned. Fire, fire, the poison boils my entrails. New miracles, Calantha, my best my dearest love: — O I am sick, stand off Calantha, my breath's so hight, it'll sing thee else; and lick thy beauty's up, Like nimble flames; But dost thou live? The spheres are out of tune; nature's distracted; The orbs celestial have turned round so long That they are giddy: the stars are in a mutiny, The Intelligences are altogether by'th ears. Enigmatical. Thy speech, Calantha, is darker than and Oracle. She's a black whore: she lies; believe her not. Felicia! Ʋ rsini, farewell; I'll hear the rest anon— What ails our Physician there? Cease there, your accents are distasteful. Rise and proceed. Good heavens, have you a curse beyond this? Throw it on me; my gilded deserves it, and Somewhat beyond your vengeance: afflict not Innocence, It will be called your crime, not mine, that she Is miserable. What Madame? Mercy good heavens! You do not see me weep, Distil mine eyes into a Due, I will not shed one tear, not vent a sighs, No not in private. I'm black and ugly; all A whole stain already: O Calantha, Thou goest to heaven, to tell Ferrando killed thee; And those blessed troops of Saints will wreak thy murder, There's not one but suffers in't. O Calantha. Truth's but a name: it's false, by heaven it's false; Did not I leave her sunk upon her bed, Into a soft, but everlasting sleep? As if? — abuse me not, thy art Shall be no privilege; she's gone, she's gone. Ʋ rsini, I have done. You're sad Ʋ rsini: has our Niece Given you no cause of joy, by her soft answer? The obstacle? tell me; ift' be any in Court she affects, by my honour I'll remove him. If that be all, she's thine. What would that More? We'll view his holiness commendations, Then hear this More, discourse the fight at large; My griefs begin to vanish; they're much lighter Than of late they were, I know not why, But it's a good presage. Come my Calantha, to consummate that joy, By mutual vows before the Altar made, Which thy return to life, to health, and reason, Hath begun in me; those minutes which bring Us any good, are swift and fleeting, and Once passed not to be recalled, who knows Whither heaven will still be bountiful; Yes royal maid, they have prepared thee for it. By the addition of new warmth and strength: Ʋ rsini, see she weeps! I've took thee from a sea of tears, (my Venus ) And thou art dropping wet yet. Create a Sunshine, With thine own smiles thou mayest, and dry thee in't: Let the dull Negro dive to fetch thee Jewels, These scattered seeds of pearl, are all too rich And pompous for ornament; the least of these Thy found neglect has dropped, would purchase heaven. Thou yeeldst too much to passion! And with it they are fled. Urge it no more, thy misery's Virgin Queen Are powerful with me, and have taught this breast A sad repentance. I can, that I have wronged thy innocence, Killed thy father. Yet pardon Love, when ever I remember He was a Prince, a Prince of equal power, And strength with him he wronged; that he once stood A bar betwixt our loves, or rather mocked Our Hope's of mutual enjoyment; that For his own peevish humour, he would ruin The edifice, that we had built to honour, I glory in the act. Royal my Queen! It's the excess of piety, The error of your duty, that thus wrongs The justice of my cause. He was so eager in the pursuit of the foe, When first he routed us, that willingly He ran upon my sword, that stood t'oppose His haste, and met a death instead of victory. Yet you my Royal fair, can wear me at A careful distance, tremble at each touch Of hand or lip, as if you feared a rape: — Display this beauteous treasure, lovely sweet And let these flowers which dwell upon thy cheek, Like those proud Maja wears, i'th smiling ides Blaze wild and open— see! they are fresh and lively, Their odour flies to heaven in sacrifice! Jove I'm thy rival;— and will share thy incense: Sweet as the purple smoke arising from The Phoenix funeral pile, or Southern breath Perfumed with all Arabia's spiceries. 'Twas a murder Intended on our person, but that Heaven — Away with they, I'll hear no more. Impudent Traitor! Not after so much injury? Th'art all goodness;—for thy sake We'll mix some mercy with our doom, He that submits first to thee, has his pardon, See justice done on th'other; this sentence Shall stand irrevocable;— Contemn our pardon. How's this? Do'e know me, who I am? By all that's.— Grow more particular, or wonder ruins me. Would! Ʋ rsini leave, till there is hope of pardon, This impudence in sin, Bid's a defiance to all mercy; did we not, At your persuasion, give order for Valenzo's Quick dispatch? How? O how near were we destruction. Reason fit still enthroned in thine own state, T'is passion only ruins Kings, not fate. O I'm wounded. Mad, stark mad, beside himself, Sure this is but a dream, and I asleep. So may I; and houle eternally In those blue flames the devils both in, If ever my vows were made to any other Then thee; and those, as spotless as thy soul.— I'll go alone into the bedchamber. There expect him,—pray leave me.