ANTONIO

I was never worse fitted since the nativity of my Actorshippe: I shalt be hist at, on my life now. Faith, I know not what: and Hermaphrodite; two parts in one: my true person being Antonio, son to the Duke of Genoa; though for the love of Mellida, Pieros daughter, I take this feigned presence of and Amazon, call ling my self Florizell, and I know not what. I a voice to play a lady! I shall never do it. Alas, the flinty rocks groaned at his plaints. Tell her (quoth he) that her obdurate sire Hath cracked his bosom; therewithal he wept, And thus sigh't on. The sea is merciful; Look how it gapes to bury all my grief Well, thou shalt have it, thou shalt be his tomb: My faith in my love live; in thee, die woe, Die unmatched anguish, die Antonio: With that he tottered from the reeling deck, And down he sunk. Lady our fashion is not curious. Most willingly: but this same court is vast, And public to the staring multitude. Sheele not credit thee. Wilt needs have it so? why then Antonio, Vive esperanza, in despetto dell fato. Stop Antonio, keep, keep Antonio. Here, here: let me me pursue him down the marsh. STOP, stop Antonio, stay Antonio. Vain breath, vain breath, Antonio's lost; He can not find himself, not seize himself. Alas, this that you see, is not Antonio, His spirit hovers in Piero's Court, Hurling about his agill faculties, To apprehend the sighed of Mellida: But poor, poor soul, wanting apt instruments To speak or see, stands dumb and blind, sad spirit, Rolled up in gloomy clouds as black as air, Through which the rusty coach of Night is drawn: 'Tis so, isle give you instance that 'tis so. Conceit you me. As having clasped a rose Within my palm, the rose being taken away, My hand retains a little breath of sweet: So may men trunk; his spirit slipped away, Holds still a faint perfume of his sweet guessed. 'Tis so; for when discursive powers fl e out, And room in progress, through the bou ̄ ds of heaven, The soul it self gallops along with them, As chieftain of this winged troop of thought, While the dull lodge of spirit stands waste, Until the soul return from What wast I said? Oh, this is nought, but speckling melancholy. I have been That Morpheus tender skinp Cousin germane Bear with me good Mellida: clod upon clod thus fallen. Hell is beneath; yet heaven is over all. Antonio? Antonio, who means Antonio? Where art? what art? knowest thou Antonio? Yes. No. Here. Here. I think I am. He is a fool that thinks he knows himself. I were not worthy of Andrugio's blood, If I denied my name's Antonio. Bless not the body with your twining arms, Which is accursed of heaven. Oh, what black sin Hath been committed by our ancient house, Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads, That thus the world, and fortune casts us out, As loathed objects, ruins branded slaves. I'll follow you. Boy, pree thee stay a little. Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh, Wherein we lurk, have not corrupted it. I pree thee sing, but sirrah (mark you me) Let each nore breath the heart of passion, The sad extracture of extremest grief. Make me a strain; speak, groaning Like a bell, That towles departing souls. Breath me a point that may enforce me weep, To wring my hands, to break my cursed breast, Rave, and exclaim, lie groveling on the earth, Straight start up frantic, crying, Mellida. Sing but, Antonio hath lost Mellida, And thou shalt see me (Like a man possessed) Howl out such passion, that even this brinish marsh Will squease out tears, from out his spongy cheeks, The rocks even groan, and Pree thee, pree thee sing: Or I shall never would done when I am in. 'Tis harder for me end, then to begin. For look thee boy, my grief that hath no end, I may begin to plain, but pree thee sing. Wherefore? Art thou infected with misery, Seared with the anguish of calamity? Art thou true sorrow, hearty grief, canst weep? I am not for thee if thou canst not rave, Fallen flat on the ground, and thus exclaim on heaven; Oh trifling Nature, why enspiredst thou breath Knowest thou Mellida? Hast thou seen Mellida? Then hast thou seen the glory of her sex, The music of Nature, the unequaled lustre Of unmatched excellence, the united sweet Of heavens graces, the most adored beauty, That ever struck amazement in the world. With my very soul. Oh heaven, that I should hear such blasphemy. Boy, rogue, thou liest, and Spavento dell mio core dolce Mellida, Di graua mortem restor vero dolce Mellida, Celesta saluatrice sourana Mellida Deal mio sperar; trofeo vero Mellida. Oh suamisce ill cor in un soave baccio, Nel Cielo puo lesser belta pia chiara. Dammi un baccio Dam quella bocca beatam, Bassiammi, coglier l' aur a odorata I in suam neggia in quello dolce labra. Dul clod, no man but such sweet favour clips. I go, and yet my panting blood persuades me stay. Turn coward in her sighed? away, away. I think confusion of Babel is fallen upon these lovers, that they change their language, but I fear me, my master having but feigned the person of a woman, hath God their unfeigned imperfection, and is grown double tongued: as for Mellida, she were no woman, if she could not yield strange language. But howsoever, if I should fit in judgement, 'tis and error easier to be par doned by the auditors, then excused by the authors; and yet some private respect may rebate the edge of the keener censure. Ay me, my Lord. I seize that breath. Sta ̄ worser not amazed, great states: I rise from death, that never lived till now. Piero, keep thy vow, and I enjoy More unexpressed height of happiness, Then power of thought can reach: if not, lo here There stands my tomb, and here a pleasing stage: Most wished spectators of my Tragedy, To this end have I feigned, that her fair eye, For whom I lived, might bless me ere I die. Mell, Can breath depaint my unco ̄ ceiued thoughts? Can words describe my infinite delight, Of seeing thee, my Lord Antonio? Oh no; conceit, breath, passion, words be dumb, Whilst I instill the dew of my sweet bliss, In the soft pressure of a melting kiss; Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras. Here ends the comic crosses of true love: O may the passage most successful prove. Faith I know not what: 'rad be a right partly for Proteus or Gew: ho, blind Gew would would don't rarely, rarely. Right: therefore I have herd that those per sons, as he & you Feliche, that are but slightly drawn in this Comedy, should receive more exact accom plishment in a second Partly: which, if this obtain gram tious acceptance, means to try his fortune. Come down, she comes Like: Oh, no Simile Is precious, choice, or elegant enough To illustrate her descent: leap heart, she comes, She comes: smile heaven, and softest Southern wind Kiss her cheek gently with perfumed breath. She comes: Creations purity, admired. Adored, amazing rarity, she comes. Oh now Antonio press thy spirit forth In following passion, knit thy senses close, Heap up thy powers, double all thy man: She comes. Oh how her eyes dart wonder on my heart! Mount blood, soul to my lips, taste Hebes cup: Stand firm on deck, when beauty's close fight's up. In hope your bounty will extend it self, In self same nature of fair courtesy, I'll shun all niceness; my nam's Florizell, My country Scythia, I am Amazon, Cast on this shore by fury of the sea. Madam, I am obliged to kiss your hand, By imposition of a now dead man. Lady, the circumstance is tedious. Vouchsafe me then your hushed observances. Vehement in pursuit of strange novelties, After long travail through the Asian main, I shipped my hopeful thoughts for Britanny; Longing to view great nature's miracle, The glory of our sex, whose fame does strike Remotest ears with adoration. Sailing some two months with inconstant winds, We viewed the glistering Venetian forts; To which we made: when lo, some three leagues off, We might descry a horred spectacle: The issue of black fury strowed the sea, With tattered carcases of split ships, Half sinking, burning, floating, topsy turuie. Not far from these sad ruins of fell rage, We might behold a creature press the waves; Senseless he sprauld, all notched with gaping wounds: To him we made, and (short) we took him up: The first word that he spoke was, Mellida; And then he swooned. Why sighs you, fair? His wounds being dressed, and life recovered, We gan discourse; when lo, the sea grew mad, His bowels rumbling with wind passion, Straightswarthy darkness popped out Phœbus eye, And blurd the jocund face of bright cheeked day; While curdled fogs masked even darkness brow: Heaven bad's good night, and the rocks groaned At the intestine uproar of the main. Now gusty flaws strook up the very heals Of our main mast, while the keen lightning shot Through the black bowels of the quaking ait: Straight chops a wave, and in his sliftred paunch Down falls our ship, and there he breaks his neck: Which in and instant up was belkt again. When thus this martyred soul began to sighs; " Give me your hand (quoth he) now do you grasp " Unequal mirror of ragged misery: " Is't not a horrid storm? Oh, well shaped sweet, " Could your quick eye strike through these gashed wou ̄ ds, " You should behold a heart, a heart, fair creature, " Raging more wild then is this frantic sea. " Wolt do me a favour, if thou chance survive? " But visit Venice, kiss the precious white " Of my most; nay all all Epithets are base " To attribute to gracious Mellida: " Tell her the spirit of Antonio " Wishes his last gasp breathed upon her breast. Oh how impatience cramps my cracked veins, And cruddles thick my blood, with boiling rage! Oh eyes, why leap you not Like thunderbolts, Or canon bullets in my rivals face; Oy me infeliche misero, oh lamenteuol fato! I cannot brook this sighed, my thoughts grow wild: Here lies a wretch, on whom heaven never smiled. Why? all this night about the room he stalkt, And groaned, and houl'd, with raging passion, To view his love (life blood of all his Hope's, Crown of his Fortune's) clipped by strangers arms. Look but behind thee. Oh, 'tis no matter whither, but lets fly. Would! now I think ont, I have never a home: No father, friend, no country to embrace These wretched limbs: the world, the All that is, Is all my foe: a prince not worth a doite: Only my head is hoist to high rate, Worth twenty thousand double Pistolets, To him that can but strike it from these shoulders. But come sweet creature, thou shalt be my home; My father, country, riches, and my friend: My all, my soul; and thou and I will live: (Lets think Like what) and thou and I will live Like unmatched mirrors of calamity. The jealous ear of night eaue-drops our talk. Hold thee, the a jewel; & look thee, the a note That will direct thee when, where, how to fly; Bid me adieu. Stay sweet, lets kiss before you go. Farewell my life, my heart. Alma & gratiosa fortuna siam e favour evole, Et fortunati siano vnoti deal mia dulce Mellida, Mell lida. I care not. Both, both, all, all: I pree thee let me lie; Spite of you all, I can, and I will die. I'll sweat my blood out, till I have him safe. I, but when ̄ use hath taught me actio ̄ , to hit the right point of a Ladies partly, I shall grow ignorant when I must turn young Prince again, how but to truss my hose. HEART, wilt not break! & thou abhorred life Wilt thou still breath in my enraged blood? Veins, sinews, arteries, why crack ye not? Burst and diuul'st, with anguish of my grief. Can man by no means creep out of himself, And leave the slough of viperous grief behind? Antonio, hast thou seen a fight at sea, As horrid as the hideous day of doom; Betwixt thy father, duke of Genoa, And proud Piero, the Venetian Prince? In which the sea hath swollen with Genoa's blood, And made spring tides with the warm reeking gore, That gushed from out our Galleys scupper holes; In which, thy father, poor Andrugio, Lies sunk, or leapt into the arms of chance, Choked with the labouring Ocean's brackish foam; Who even, despite Pieros can cred hate, Would with and armed hand have seized thy love, And linked thee to the beauteous Mellida. Have I outlived the death of all these Hope's? Have I felt anguish poured into my heart, Burning Like Balsamum in tender wounds; And yet dost live! could not the fretting sea Have rolled me up in wrinkles of his brow? Is death grown coy? or grim confusion nice? That it will not accompany a wretch, But I must needs be cast on Venice shore? And try new Fortune's with this strange disguise? To purchase my adored Mellida. Hark how Piero's triumphs Beatrice the air, Oh rugged mischief how thou gratest my heart! Take spirit, blood, disguise, be confident: Make a firm stand, here rests the hope of all, Lower then hell, there is no depth to fallen. What means these scattered looks? why tremble you? Why quake your thoughts, in your distracted eyes? Collect your spirits, Madam; what do you see? Dost not behold a ghost? Look, look where he stalks, wrapped up in clouds of grief, Darting his soul, upon thy wondering eyes. Look, he comes towards thee; see, he stretcheth out His wretched arms to girded thy loved waste, With a most wished embrace: seest him not yet? Nor yet? Would, Mellida; thou well mayest err: For look; he walks not Like Antonio: Like that Antonio, that this morning shone, In glistering habiliments of arms, To seize his love, spite of her father's spite: But Like himself, wretched, and miserable, Banished, forlorn, despairing, strook quite through, With sinking grief, rolled up in sevenfold doubles Of plagues, vanquishable: hark, he speaks to thee. Leave passion, sweet; for time, place, air, & earth, Are all our foes: fear, and be jealous; fair, Lets fly. Each man take hence life, but no man death: He's a good fellow, and keeps open house: A thousand thousand ways led to his gate, To his wide mouthed porch: when niggard life Hath but one little, little wicket through. We wring our selves into this wretched world, To pule, and weep, exclaim, to curse and rail, To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the earth As I do now. Antonio, curse thy birth, And die. Alas, Feliche, I would never a friend; No country, father, brother, kinsman left To weep my fate, or sighs my funeral: I roll but up and down, and fill a seat In the dark cave of dusky misery. Heaven keep you from me, sir. 'Tis to be described by signs & tokens. For unless I were possessed with a legio ̄ of spirits, it's impossible to be perspicuous by any utterance: For sometime he must take austere state, as for the person of Galeatzo, the son of the duke of Florence, & possess his exterior presence with a formal majesty: keep popularity in distance, and on the sudden fling his honour so pro digally into a common Arm, that he may seem to give up his indiscretion to the mercy of vulgar ce ̄ sure: Now as solemn as a traveler, and as graven as a Puri tanes ruff: with the same breath as slight and scat terd in his fashion as as as a a any thing. Now, as sweet and neat as a Barbours casting-bottle; straight as slovenly as the yeasty breast of and Ale-knight: now, lamenting: then chafing: straight laughing: then Father, now I have and antidote, Gainst all the poison that the world can breath. My Mellida, my Mellida does bless This bleak waste with her presence. How now boy, Why dost thou weep? alas, where's Mellida? Dear father