PIERO

Valenzo! you are grown too great, and glorious For my friendship; become a theme for Princes, Whose worthy acts enrich their high discourse: The greedy multitude, snatching each word, As it falls from they, wear your praise As their best ornament! Alas Valenzo! You prejudice your Princes wisdom, and Your own just merits, those favours yet Were never worn by them, that had not first Deserved them. Though you be prodigal of your affections, Yet be not cruel to your Charintha, Who must needs suffer in this wilful scorn, You throw on that your valour dearly purchased. Were you as monstrous for impiety, as now You are famed for virtue, such was her pious thrift, In treasuring up her clean and humble prayers, You could not die unpardoned, every hour (As you are always liable to danger,) Can witness, with what forward zeal she begged Heaven, to avert the stroke before it came: We have taken so much pleasure in her orisons, That even profane men to have herd her pray, Would turn devout, were there no merit in't. That's his sanctuary, His safety lies there, yet (though I profess No augury) I foresee, and read His fallen, all these vast glories which he boasts, Are built upon the ruins of Alberto, His tombstone is the basis of that building, Which we admire, but think not safe. Sooner (I believe) than to will be forgotten; But what was that Frederico, Albert's son? Had he been less famed, he had not yet Been numbered with the dead; (you are my friend My Lord ) I speak my thoughts, and freely;— Ʋ rsini endures no rival. to is dangerous to be near him; There's such and Antipathy, betwixt him, and virtue, He wears it's ruin in his looks. He hath no use of either ear, or eye, But what his loved Ʋ rsini lends him; he Only rules, and limits his affections; Suffers him not to cast a frown or smile, But where he pleases; his next indearement, is His care o'th Princess, our Sicilian captive: Whom sorrow for her father's death, (slain in The war, by him that was designed her lover; Our famed Prince Ferrando, ) has brought Into a desperate melancholy; what reward He expects, I cannot tell, unless it be The Crown: you have herd of her strange distemper? I know not how, but sure sh'as made the King Wild; he has such diverse fits, as he had learned To be mysterious in's passion; I have seen him weep, Like a found mother over her tender babe, Whom too rude fate has ravished unripe from her: Then rave, and curse, talk as he wanted reason To guide his speeches Organ: or soft sleep To recall his straggling senses: Mutter distracted thoughts in broken words, Until he lights upon her name, and then He bows at the recital; blesses himself In the often repetition of Calantha. Alas poor maid! why now she's a true captive To passion, and to Naples: had she been still Queen over ber great self, none could have said She'd had been unhappy; now, and not till now She's truly miserable. Our tears are better spent upon her sorrows, Than our own sins, she talks so prettily, Clothes grief in such a sad, and pious garb, So void of any rudeness, that we see Composedness in distraction, reason in madness; She never walks but when she's led along, And that so faintly, as she had not spirits Enough to actuate her tender limbs: Want of meat and sleep have made her seem A living coarse; to see her weep, you'de fear That every drop were her own funeral tear. 'Twas shrewd. Rather your own indulgence, Madame. And then how fruitless. Her virtue is It self and antidote against all such poisons; His breath no more can stain that innocent whiteness, Which ever dwell't upon her soul, than he, That in a sond maliciousness would throw Dirt at the Sun, could sulley the least ray; Her memory, when he, and's lying marble Consume to dust, and rottenness, shall dwell On earth Like a perfume, after the sacrifice, Pleasing to God, and men. Your both abused, Grossly abused: Ʋ rsini's politic plots May meet and eye, that can discern of objects Far subtler than they are; come, come, Way with this passion, Love has something else To employ you in: Fungoso, as I wished; he is Ʋ rsini's agent, this will con firm my relation; let's step aside. Engagements of this nature urge a return Of thanks proportionable to themselves, And what we have of such rich value's, I cannot tell, lest t'be our souls forfeited To'th next occasion his Lordship has to use they. Madame! I am all joy, life, honours, Preferment, and what not? Life Madame is sweet. Life, with the worst that can befall us, is A good exchange for death; but here are honours Annexed to't Lady! I shall be great in favour. Yet you would be content, Valenzo should Accept a life, on this condition. Why? so may I. Am not I his too? To show how far, I can prefer him to My self, I am content this honour should be his. Mistake me not, I only did prepare you for a joy, Which now you're ripe for:—know then, IT returned Him scorn for all his flattering promises; And stood resolved t'incounter with his fury, Made hight by my disdain. Since it's decreed that one of us must fallen, And only one, my death shall free us both From the laws rigour, enjoy your best Valenzo, Enjoy him long, may you (a happy pair) Grow Like two neighbouring roses on one stalk, Partaking mutually each others sweets; Whence no rude hand approach to ravish you, But when you are full blown, and ripe for heaven, May you fallen gently both into one grave, There lie entombed in your own odours. To what I have deserved. Yes Lady, the cry was full of horror. Devil. —To me this? Dare you Promise so much for's Lordship? No doubt Sir, but You are familiar with the sense it carries, And can inform me, better than the dark Character. Wondrous good! It's a becoming charity this, and he Wears it amongst the chiefest of his virtues. But stay? — now I think on't, This is a benefit of that nature, it seldom comes Alone, are there not honours too? preferments That wait upon this gift? speak, shall I be His Lordship's creature? Are we not for design? — ba, what dark trick Is there i'th State, that does imply danger Enough for us to manage, does he think Us fit to temper poisons, or use the benefit O'th night to seize on his State-rivals, are we Potent enough for faction, or intended Intelligencer to some foreign Prince? Go home and study it then:—and do'e hear, Entreat my Lord, t'employ his favours to Some further profit, he'll scarce be gainer by they else. Do maggot, wriggle, wriggle, do:— But justice must be satisfied. To slay The innocent, is not to expiate, But make a crime, preserve thy self entire To thy Charintha, King, and Country. You must not, shall not die. Pity these tears. Justice requires but one, her fate Is so involved in yours, you cannot fallen, But in it she must find a certain death; Think then, how can you satisfy the law? Astonishment ceizes me. May you be happy in her love. — why this distance? Is't in the power of several climes to break Our sympathies in nature? true, I have Been long estranged from you, not from your virtue; Why then should you deny your strict embraces?