URSINI

Conduct that More hither, and see we have all pri vacie that may be. See, he comes: here's one that's fit to kill a King, A thing, whose soul is nothing but a spot Transmitted from foul parricides, whose thoughts Wear a more deep and horrid black, than that Which spreads upon his body— My Zisco welcome. No more, I know what thou wouldst say: I promised To endear thee to Ferrando's love, and knowledge, Are you according to my instructions ready To meet all his demands? With a forged Commendamus from his holiness? It's well, but how stands't thou resolved for our de sign? But he's a Prince — —One upon whom attends a guard of men, And Angels, on whose brow divinity Sits charactered, a Majesty that darts Fork't arrows into the guilty soul, and strikes A palsied fear through every limb and joint Of the murderer. Whom? Traitor. I have learned cruelty from him: Zisco, thou shalt applaud the mysteries, The rare contrivances of my revenge; My fate lies in his breast, but this, this arm Shall ravished thence. Again? this confirms it. It's so reported, yet I believe— That he was slain at Ferrando's command. Your sister, (aside,) —I there, Now thou strikest home. Zisco, th'ast raised a flame within this breast, Nought but his blood can quench:—thanks to my brame;— It shall be so;— The fatal raven croaks; It's ominous, if he outlive this night We are no more: —Come we'll go plot within. Have you performed what I commanded you concer ning the Lady? Leave me— (Exit Cass.) It's well, if this slander can but pull on murder upon him, or any of my servants, from Valenzo's hand, his head shall answer for't; I am his judge, (My power over the King makes me so:) And he shall find me cruel; then the fort is mine, In which his soldiers are in garrison; This night the French, and Genowayes intend To ceize our empty fleet, that rides i'th harbour; Those men I have endeared, — Mount, mount my soul, let no fear weigh thee down. He stakes his life that thus casts at a Crown. Poor Lady, she's distracted! Fie, fie. So, this becomes you — Such a smile never blessed The cheeks of Peace. —The King! Help here — O! Bentivoglio, come, Come practice here, and raise your self a trophy In his recovery. Ben't so passionate; but hear him. You may believe him Sir, he's one of the skilfullest Physicians our age has boasted of, Padua is proud of such and ornament. Your goodness, my Lord, is as unlimited As heavens. None, — None but this, that she's too much wedded to Heaven, and her devotions. A bliss, I would for ever live enjoy.— He has letters here from his holiness, In which I'm certified, that he lately turned Christian, And has well deserved i'th wars, Against the Turk;— The King admits you to His hand. Be near us. Th'ast told a pretty story; — weep no more, I see the Cupid's angry in thine eyes, That with thy tears, th'ast quenched their burning arrows; Spare they until th'art old, and spend they then On thy whole stock of sins: thou playest the tyrant; And robbest thy self of all that beauteous treasure. Nature instructed thee withal. So thou toldest me boy: But after thou arriv'd'st in Sicily, How fared it with thee? Then wentest thou to the Princess. Why didst not return? 'Twas the intemperance of your disease Suggested these Chimaera's. Nay rather we may say, that he met both Who triumphs over life, and all the misery's That too officiously attend upon it; Crown his pale statua, with victorious wreaths, And call his unkind fate, his happiness! His fallen was honourable, Kings Like other men Travel to death, they go i'th' common road, Are in their end as sensible of pain As the base peasants, whom they by and by I'th' grave are equal with; their only privilege Is in their executioner, who would not rather Fallen under a Kings hand, than yield his life Up to a weak disease, a Fever, Gout, Or grating Stone, which had he missed this stroke, Might straight have seized him; and have robbed him of The glory of his end? This vault contains it. The Choir attends without. My Lord! — The injury! I am not any way conscious.— Though you might urge, 'twere treason of that height, That none but they could think of, much less act: That murder cries for murder, blood for blood: That he whose innocence they sacrificed To their mad fury, was your loyal subject; This on your marriage day — to affront Hymen. And when your nuptial torch burned brightest, dead it With blood, into a sickly glimmmering taper: That they should dare assault me! — i'th' Court — One whom your goodness has been pleased to look Into a life, and honours, placed i'th' state, Only to interpose my self between, And meet all dangers that are shot at you. Was just in the prevention; True it might be so, And were it, yet upon submission Such faults have been remitted. Yet still I dare be good; and spite of all His hate, or malice to me, thus stand up To beg his life. Yes, if Valenzo dare be sinful still In wrongs, it shall be called my piety To suffer. This sentence stand irrevocable? Plague to your easy nature! — Would! this it's to overact; how have I almost fooled my self, out Of my own plots; I were in a fine case now, if Piero Should not acceptam life on this condition. I'll send to him— Cassio! Grutti! who waits there? — Return your favours too With so much scorn. Some malicious devil now, or other, Has enticed her from her beads; To undo me, and my plots, she carries anger In her brow: — this I must mitigate, or I am Lost. — Now, now the storm is coming this way, But I'm prepared to meet it. Madame, I have always spoke you, chastities best example. Sweetest Princess! — My Lord.— Madame, I have not so appeared in managing these affairs of yours. I have not used the art to boast the virtue Of mine own actions; yet heaven knows They were all good, and aimed at ends as honourable As your desires. How ere I seemed ( great Sir ) to run down with the stream of your violent passion, yet my intents still boar up against it; witness this paper. And canst thou do't again? This night then thou shalt—ravish his Mistress, Calantha! this night! I've prepared all things ready For thy conveyance into her chamber—thou wilt doe't And kill her too? Obscure your self a while.—how now? There spoke my Genius. Oh my fate! that man undo's me. Thus early sins are blasted in the bud, There is no safety but in being good. The City quiet too I those clouds Which threatened ruin to your Kingdom, all Blown over; the sky serene and calm, as if It laughed at your vain fears; the lamps of heaven That now seemed all blown out, are trimmed a new And brighter shine, to led you to Elyzium. Where are you Sir? Frederico, let me embrace thee: Now our revenge is perfect. How? or when arrived this your knowledge Madame? My love. Didst thou not tell me that Ferrando ravished her, And cast her to his slaves, a prey to their Bold appetites and furies. 'Twas I by whom she swelled, and not Ferrando, As 'twas supposed. That aggravates my crime, who wrought her into This false belief, for having long loved her, Without return of mutual flames, and at length Finding that the impediment was her found Dotage upon the Prince; I determined, Rather than not to be possessed of her, To partly with faith and loyalty, feigned all My visits for him, courted her acceptation Of his love, which I so darkly brought about That she consenting to private meetings As oft as she expected the Prince, I my self filled her arms.— For reasons I then gave her: all our meetings Were in the night, and that i'th dark too, where I Dissembled so the Prince in voice and gesture.— And my self too. Here, here's my heart. Mercy heavens! He never loved thee Zisco, nor was known By special favours to deserve thee to him; But he has made me great, worn me in's soul; His father took me up, when I was nothing, Bequeathed me to him, as a care hereditary, Belonging to the Crown, placed me so near him, I've grown, and spread Like a tall mountain Cedar. It's he: Frederico. O that man! he was unhappy in his Princes love. Circled in these. Embraces, you are safe: collect your self (Dear Prince;) and let not passion triumph in The conquest of your reason; think of your honour, Your name, and spreading glories; how they die. Thou art passionate. Did thy friend leave thee? Thou shalt have new ones, royal ones my boy; A Princely pair, that pride them in their youth, And innocent sweetness; whose Majesties shall shed As vigorous rays on thee, as on the issue, Th'ensuing nuptial promises to spring From their own loins. Thou hast deserved them boy, Calantha speaks thee A miracle of love and piety; Is passionate in thy praise, all to win Affection from the Prince to thee, dry up Those tears; which till this time did never flow Offensive unto any: This day is consecrate to mirth and Hymen, It's sin to wear a frown, or folded brow, For every smile, thou lendest them now, they'll pay A thousand back again: Deserves it all; 'Twere a sin no less than sacrilege, To rob her o'th least partly of your affections. The Priest has done his office, all delights The married have a privilege in, are yours: Be bold in the enjoyment, what ere while Was termed a looseness in desire, is now A virtuous thought: those flames which cloth your Souls Are chased and holy, dalliance is your devotion. Hymen applaud's this early piety: The doves that drive the chariot of loves Queen. Are swift in motion, and those happy troops, Which wait upon her triumphs, mak't their strife Which shall outrun the other, those that lag Cupid will whip with roses to the Altar. Thought be a sin of that portentous bulk, That 'tstartles all the gods, and justice self Wakes from a long dead lethargy to meet it: Yet Kings are great as they, and spite of fate Or rigorous laws, may triumph in their mercy. Justice is slow Of pace, and if not led by fury, Seldom overtakes the crime, let your return Of punishment be quick, and active, delay is worse Than pity, and more dangerous: Valenzo Is popular, and who knows, but he had rather, Owe his life to the peoples mutiny, than your pardon, And therefore slighted it. Which you had sealed ere this, had not this Lady here interrupted it. your passion would not have permitted you, To have over viewed what you consented too; This I knew, as likewise how dangerous it Would have been to the state, if he had fallen. You honour me. Zisco. The hours are favourable And have brought opportunity along with they, We must resolve for Actium. But Zisco, art thou sure Felicia was.— Well, beyond my Hope's: excellent well; Grutti, Case sio, be never us, we must use your help to night. The land of some dull villager Or doughty Poets dreams. Your Cynthia, —your Moon With a man in her—there there's Your way, why move you not? How you stand. Frederico! just heavens. Couldst thou think, dull Prince, that heaven so Doted on thy royalty, thy crown, thy sceptre, Or regal pall could bear thee out in sin? Or the weak shine of trivial state dazzle Their eyes that look upon the blessed sun! Couldst thou flatter thy self into such a Security, That vengeance would not find thee out? When thou hadst forfeited thy luxurious palate With all the dainties of Felicia's body Thirsted her blood, quaffed off whole bowls of it, Till thou were't drunk, and wild with fury Of thy intemperate draughts —Am not I a rare villain now? We are betrayed. Valenzo, I am overcome. — But whom have we here? You Gods! I now acknowledge you supreme: Your power is mighty over our found arts. Silly projectors we ensnare our selves! While we spread nets for others. This brain has wrought all these sad plots, Calantha, take your Lord; who is as true, And holy in his vo was, as those blessed Saints He invoked. In act, or thought. Madame. It's he— I am confirmed: Frederico, Albert's Son— I'll let him live concealed, he's a sure Instrument, and will serve me for all turns. —humph, —could he think his puling sisters, Or his Father's, wrongs, sat so heavy on my heartstrings, That I could be moved to kill my Prince In their revenge? Indeed I loved her once, Till I enjoyed her, but she's lost, so is her memory; I've higher thoughts now; Charintha is my aim, Ferrando's niece; next heir to the Crown; Mine by his promise: can I but divorce Valenzo from her love, together with His life, I'm safe; it's that I am contriving: He is my rival both in a Mistress, and A Princes favour.—Who waits within there? ho. Alberto: would.