PIERO

HO, Gasper Strotzo, bind Feliches trunk Unto the panting side of Mellida. Exit Str. 'Tis yet dead night, yet all the earth is cloucht In the dull leaden hand of snoring sleep: No breath disturbs the quiet of the air. No spirit moves upon the breast of earth, Save howling dogs, nightcrowes, & screeching owls, Save meager ghosts, Piero, and black thoughts. One, two Lord, in two hours what a topless mount Of unpeered mischief, have these hands cast up! I can scarce coop triumphing vengeance up, From bursting forth in braggart passion. Andrugio sleeps in peace: this brain hath choked The organ of his breast. Feliche hangs, But as a bait upon the line of death, To tice on mischief. I am great in blood, Unequaled in revenge. You horrid scouts, That centinel swart night, give loud applause From your large palms. First know, my heart was raised Unto Andrugios life, upon this ground: We both were rivals in our May of blood, Unto Maria, Ferrara's heir. He won the Lady, to my honours death: And from her sweets, cropped this Antonio : For which, I burned in inward sweltering hate, And festered rankling malice in my breast, Till I might belke revenge upon his eyes: And now (o blessed now) 'tis done. Hell, night, Give loud applause to my hypocrisy. When his bright valour even dazzled sense, In offering his own head, public reproach Had blurd my name. Speak Strotzo, had it not? If then I had Nay, right thine eyes: it but a little spleen: (Huge plunge! Sin's grown a slave, and must observe slight evils. Huge villains are enforced to claw all devils.) Pish, sweet thy thoughts, and give me Nay, calm this storm. I ever held thy breast More secret, and more firm in league of blood, Then to be struck in heat with each-slight puff. Give me thy ears; Huge infamy Press down my honour; if even then, when His fresh act of prowess bloomed out full, I had taken vengeance on his hated head And didst thou ever see, a Judas kiss, With a more covert touch of fleering hate? And having clipped them with pretence of love, Have I not crushed them with a cruel wring? No? yes? nothing but no, and yes, dull lump? Canst thou not honey me with fluent speech, And even adore my topless villainy? Will I not blast my own blood for revenge? Must not thou straight be perjured for revenge And yet no creature dream 'tis my revenge. Will I not turn a glorious bridal morn Unto a Stygian night? Yet nought but no, and yes? Oh, let me swoon for joy. By heaven, I think I would said my prayers, within this month at least; I am so boundless happy. Does she come? By this warm reeking gore, I'll marry her. Look I not now Like and inamorate? Poison the father, butcher the son, & marry the more there; would! Strotzo, to bed: snort in securest sleep: For see, the dapple grey coursers of the morn Beatrice up the light with their bright silver hooves, And chase it through the sky. To bed, to bed. This morn my vengeance shall be amply fed. Exit. WHO gives these il-befitting attributes Of chased, unspotted, bright, to Mellida, He lies as loud as thunder, she's unchaste, Tainted, impure, black as the soul of hell. There glow no sparks of reason in the world; All are raked up in ashy beastliness. The bulk of man's as dark as Erebus, No branch of Reasons light hangs in his trunk: There lives no reason to keep league withal. I would no reason to be reasonable. Her wedding eve, linked to the noble blood Of my most firmly reconciled friend, And found even clingd in sensuality! Oh heaven! Oh heaven! Were she as near my heart As is my liver, I would rend her off. Dead, alas, how dead? Give seeming passion. Fut weep, act, feign. Dead, alas, how dead? Be cheerful Princess, help Castilio, The Lady's swooned, help to bear her in. Slow comfort to huge cares, is swiftest sin. ROT there thou cearcloth that infolds the flesh Of my loathed foe; moulder to crumb ̄ bling dust: Oblivion choke the passage of thy fame. Trophies of honoured birth drop quickly down: Let nought of him, but what was vicious, live. Though thou art dead, think not my hate is dead: I have but newly twone my arm in the curled locks Of snaky vengeance. Pale beetle-browed hate But newly bustles up. Sweet wrong, I clap thy thoughts. Oh let me hug my bosom, rub my breast, In hope of what may happen. Andrugio rots: Antonio lives: umh: how long? would, would; how long? Antonio packed hence, I'll his mother wed, Then clear my daughter of supposed lust, Wed her to Florence heir. Oh excellent. Venice, Genoa, Florence, at my beck, At Piero's nod, Balurdo, o ho. Oh, 'twill be rare, all unsuspected done. I have been nursed in blood, and still have sucked The steam of reeking gore. Balurdo, ho? Dost thou know what thou hast spoken all this while? Will Pandulfo Feliche wait on me? I'll seem to wind you fool with kindest arm. He that's ambitious minded, and but man, Must have his followers beasts, dubbed slavish sots: Whose service is obedience, and whose wit Reaches no further then to admire their Lord, And stare in adoration of his worth. I love, a slave raked out of common mud Should seem to fit in counsel with my heart. High honoured blood's too squeamish to assent, And lend a hand to and ignoble act Poison from roses who could ere abstract? How now Pandulfo, weeping for thy son? Pollution must be purged. Grave? why? thinkest thou he deserves a graven, That hath defiled the temple of Thinkest thou thy son could suffer wrongfully? Before heaven he makes me shrug: would a were dead: He is a virtuous man. What has our court to do With virtue, in the devils name! Pandulpho, hark. My lustful daughter die: start not, she die. I pursue justice, I love sanctity, And and undefiled temple of pure thoughts. Shall I speak freely? Good Andrugio's dead: And I do fear a fetch; but (umh) would I durst speak. I do mistrust; but (umh) death: is he all, all man: Hath he no partly of mother in him, would? No licorish womanish inquisitiveness? I, and I fear, his own unnatural blood, To whom he gave life, hath given death for life. How could he come on, I see false suspect Is vicde; wrung hardly in a virtuous heart. Well, I could give you reason for my doubts. You are of honoured birth, my very friend. You know how godlike 'tis to root out sin. Antonio is a villain. Will you join In oath with me, against the traitors life, And swear, you knew, he sought his father's death? I loved him well, yet I love justice more: Our friends we should affect, justice adore. 'Tis joust that subjects act commands of kings. Even so my self then will traduce his gilded. Where only honest deeds to kings are free, It is no empire, but a beggary. Tush juiceless graybeard, 'tis immunity, Proper to princes, that our state exacts, Our subjects not alone to bear, but praise our acts. Pish, true praise, the brow of common men does ring, False, only girts the temple of a king, He that hath strength, and's ignorant of power, He was not made to rule, but to be ruled. Hence doting Stoic: by my hope of bliss, I'll make thee wretched. Oh torture! slave, I banish thee the town, Thy native seat of birth. Would I were deaf (o plague) hence dotard wretch: Tread not in court. All that thou hast, I seize. His quiet's firmer then I can disease. Good evening to the fair Antonio, Most happy fortune, sweet succeeding time, Rich hope: think not thy fate a bankrout though How now? hark ye Prince. Nay, noble blood, I hope ye not suspect She's gone (& yet she's here) she hath left a print Of her sweet graces fixed within my heart, As fresh as is her face. I'll marry her. She's most fair, true, most chaste, most false: because Most fair, 'tis firm I'll marry her. Do it with rare passion, and present thy gilded, As if it wrung out with thy conscience gripe. Swear that my daughter's innocent of lust, And that Antonio bribed thee to defame Her maiden honour, on inveterate hate Unto my blood; and that thy hand was feed By his large bounty, for his father's death. Swear plainly that thou chok'tst Andrugio, By his sons only egging. Rush me in Whilst Mellida prepares her self to die: Halter about thy neck, and with such sighs, Laments and acclamations lyfen it, As if impulsive power of remorse I, I, fallen on thy face and cry; why suffer you So lewd a slave as Strotzo is to breath? As if thy life were loathsome to thee: then I Catch straight the cords end; and, as much incensed With thy damned mischiefs, offer a rude hand, As ready to gird in thy pipe of breath: But on the sudden straight I'll stand amazed, And fallen in exclamations of thy virtues. Thy honest stomach, that could not digest The crudities of murder: but surcharged, Vomited'st them up in Christian piety. And call thee brother, mount thee straight to state, Make thee of counsel; tut, tut, what not, what not? Think ont, be confident, pursue the plot. So, so; run headlong to confusion: Thou slight brained mischief, thou art made as dirt, To plaster up the bracks of my defects. I'll wring what may be squeezed from out his use: And good night Strozzo. Swell plump bold heart. For now thy tide of vengeance rolleth in: Oh now Tragoedia Cothurnata mounts Piero's thoughts are fixed on dire exploits. Pell mell : confusion, and black murder guides The organs of my spirit: shrink not heart. Capienda rebus in malis praeceps via est. Maria, love Maria: she took this I'll. Left you her here? On lights away: I think we shall not warm our beds to day. How now Julio, my little pretty son? Why suffer you the child to walk so late. Away there: Pages, lead on fast with light. The Church is full of damps: 'tis yet dead night. ENTREAT me not: ther's not a beauty lives, Hath that imperial predominance Over my affects, as your enchanting graces: Yet give me leave to be my self. Most joust and upright in our judgement seat. Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish Of most loathed looseness, I would scratch it out. Produce the strumpet in her bridal robes, That she may blush appear so white in show, And black in inward substance. Bring her in. I hold Antonio, for his father's sake, So very dearly, so entirely choice, That knew I but a thought of prejudice, Imaigin'd against his high ennobled blood, I would maintain a mortal feud, undying hate Gainst the conceivers life. And shall Justice sleep In fleshly Lethargy, for mine own bloods favour, When the sweet prince hath so apparent scorn By my (I will not call her) daughter. Go, Conduct in the loved youth Antonio : He shall behold me spurn my private good. Piero loves his honour more then's blood. Forbear (impure) to blot bright honours name, With thy defiled lips. The flux of sin Flows from thy tainted body: thou so foul, So all dishonoured, canst no honour give, No wish of good, that can have good effect To this graven senate, and illustrate bloods. Why stays the doom of death? Why, where is Strotzo? he that swore he saw The very act: and vowed that Feliche fled Upon his sighed: on which, I brake the breast Of the adulterous lecher, with five stabs. Go fetch in Strotzo. Now thou impudent, If thou hast any drop of modest blood Shrouded within thy cheeks; blush, blush for shame, That rumor yet may say, thou feltst defame. With what? My hate. What means this passion? Lay hold on him. What strange portent is this? Go, seize Antonio, guard him strongly in. Seize me Antonio. My self will be thy strangler, unmatched slave. I, pluck Castilio : I change my humour? pluck Castilio. Die, with thy death's intreats even in thy jaws. Now, now, now, now, now, my plot begins to work. Why, thus should Statesmen do, That cleave through knots of craggy policies, Use men Like wedges, one strike out another; Till by degrees the tough and knurly trunk Be rived in sunder. Where's Antonio ? Speak, on thy faith, on thy allegiance, speak. Antonio drowned? how? how? Antonio drowned? How now? Ay me? why, art not great of thanks To gracious heaven, for the joust revenge Upon the author of thy obloquies! Before heaven, her speech falters, look she swoons. Convey her up into her private bed. I hope sheele live. If not Alberto, I am kind, Alberto, kind. I am sorry for thy couz, i'faith I am. Go, take him down, and bear him to his father: Let him be buried, look ye, I'll pay the priest. Gods fut, no, thou odd uncivil fellow: I think you do forget sir, where you are. Away with that same yelping cur, away. How now fool, fop, fool? Fool, fop, fool? Marry muff. I pray you, how ma nigh fools have you seen go in a suit of Satin? I hope yet, I do not look a fool i'faith: a fool? Gods boars, I scorn't with my heel. S'neaks, and I were worth but three hundred pound a year more, I could swear richly: nay, but as poor as I am, I will swear the fellow hath wrong. Go to, thou shalt have right. Go to Castilio, Clap him into the Palace dungeon: Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime That smears the dungeon cheek. Away with him. Away with him, observe it strictly, go. What? o heaven, what? May it not sad your thoughts, how? Fit close unto my breast, heart of my love, Advance thy drooping eyes, Thy son is drowned, Rich happiness that such a son is drowned. Thy husband's dead, life of my joys most blessed, In that the sapless log, that pressed thy bed With and unpleasing weight, being lifted hence, Even I Piero, live to warm his place. I tell you, Lady, had you viewed us both, With and vnprtiall eye, when first we wooed Your maiden beauty's, I had born the prize, 'Tis firm I had: for, fair, I would done that Which he would quake to have adventured; Thou knowest I have. Why then Io to Hymen, mount a lofty note: Fill read cheeked Bacchus, let Lyeus float In burnished goblets. Force the plump lipt God, Skip light lavoltas in your full sapt veins. 'Tis well brim full. Even I have glut of blood: Let quaff carouse; I drink this Bordeaux wine Unto the health of dead Andrugio, Feliche, Strotzo and Antonios ghosts. Would I had some poison to infuse it with; That having done this honour to the dead, I might send one to give them notice ont. I would endear my favour to the full. Boy, sing aloud, make heavens vault to ring With thy breathes strength. I drink. Now loudly sing. CALL Julio hither; where's the little fowl? I saw him not to day. Here's sport alone For him, i'faith; for babes and fools, I know, Relish not substance, but applaud the show. By the delights in contemplation Of coming joys, it's magnificent. You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp. Found still, loud music. Oh, your breath gives grace To curious feet, that in proud measure pace. Bring hither suckets, canded delicates. Weel taste some sweet meats, gallants, ere we sleep. Say, faith, didst thou ere hear, or read, or see Such happy vengeance, unsuspected death? That I should drop strong poison in the bowl, Which I my self carous't unto his health, And future fortune of our unity, That it should work even in the hushed of night, And strangle him on sudden; that fair show Of death, for the excessive joy of his fate, Might choke the murder? Would Strotzo, is't not rare? Nay, but weigh it. Then Feliche stabbed (Whose sinking thought frighted my conscious heart) And laid by Mellida, to stop the match, And hale on mischief. This all in one night? Is't to be equaled thinkest thou? Oh, I could eat Thy fumbling throat, for thy lagd censure. Fut, Is't not rare? Would, Strotzo, my other soul; my life, Dear, hast thou steeled the point of thy resolve? Wilt not turn edge in execution? Then thou must die Accursed by me. No. No. Young Galeatzo? I, a proper man. Florence, a goodly city: it shall be so. I'll marry her to him instantly. Then Genoa mine, by my Mariaes match, Which I'll solemnize ere next setting Sun. Thus Venice, Florence, Genoa, strongly leagued. Excellent, excellent. I'll conquer Room, Pop out the light of bright religion: And then, helter skelter, all cock sure. And so she died: I do not use to weep: But by thy love (out of whose fertile sweet, I hope for as fair fruit) I am deep sad: I will not stay my marriage for all this. Castilio Forobosco, all Strain all your wits, wind up invention Unto his highest bent: to sweet this night, Make us drink Lethe by your quaint conceits; That for two days, oblivion smother grief: But when my daughters exequies approach, Let's all turn sighers. Come, despite of fate, Found loudest music, lets pace out in state. Marry and shall; i'faith I were too rude, If I gainesaide so civil fashion. The maskers pray you to forbear the room, Till they have banqueted. Let it be so: No man presume to visit them, on death. Only my self? Oh, why with all my heart I'll fill your consort; here Piero sits: Come on, unmask, lets fallen to Thou art wise. He that speaks he knows not what, shall never sin against his own conscience: go to, thou art wise. Bid Forobosco, and Castilio guard, Endear thy self Piero's intimate. Most powreful beauty, that enchanting grace Would all the States in Venice were Like thee. Oh then I were secured. He that's a villain, or but meanly soul, Must still converse, and cling to routs of fools, That can not search the leaks of his defects. Oh, your unsalted fresh fool is your only man: These vinegar tart spirits are too piercing, Too searching in the vnglewd joints of shaken wits. Find they a chink, they'll wriggle in and in, And eat Like salt sea in his siddow ribs, Till they have opened all his rotten parts, Unto the vaunting surge of base contempt, And sunk the tossed galleass in depth Of whirlpool Scorn. Give me and honest fopp: Dud a dud a? why lo sir, this takes he As grateful now, as a Monopoly. Forbear me heaven. What intend these plaints? What had so please? Unseasoned Sycophant, Piero Sforza is no numbed Lord, Senseless of all true touch; stroke not the head Of infant speech, till it be fully born Go to. Could I avoid to give a seeming grant Unto fruition of Antonios love? Here, into my breast: 'tis a place built wide By fate, to give receipt to boundless woes. Dead? Why, what dost thou with a beard? Madam, Oh that you could reme ̄ ber to forget Just. Forbear, Balurdo, let the fool alone, Come hither ( ficto ) Is he your fool? Daughter, me thinks your eyes should sparkle joy, Your bosom rise on tiptoe at this news. Born out the shock of war, & done, what not, That valour durst. Dost love me fairest? say. True cuz, true. They say that men of hope are crushed: Good are suppressed by base desertless clods, That stifle gasping virtue. Look sweet youth, How provident our quick Venetians are, Least hoves of jades should trample on my boy: Look how they lift him up to eminence, Heave him, above reach of flesh. Would, would, would. Hold, take those keys, open the Castle vault, & put in Mellida. He grieves, laugh Strozzo : laugh, he weeps. Hath he tears? o pleasure! hath he tears? Now do I scourge Andrugio with steel whips Of knotty vengeance. Strozzo, cause me straight Some plaining ditty to augment despair. Triumph Piero : hark, he groans, o rare!