PESCARA

Blame him not good Francisco, He hath much cause to grieve: Would I might end so, And not and this, to fear. If it were As well in my weak power, in act to raise it, As it's to bear a partly of sorrow with you; You then should have joust cause to say, Pescara Looked not upon your State, but on your Virtues, When he made suit to be writ in the List Of those you favoured. But my hast forbids All compliment. Thus then, Sir, to the purpose. The cause that unattended brought me hither, Was not to tell you of your lose, or danger; For Fame hath many Wings to bring ill tidings, And I presume you have herd it: But to give you such, Such friendly counsel, as perhaps may make Your sad disaster, less. Thus then, Sir. To hope you can hold out against the Emperor, Were flattery in your self, to your undoing; Therefore, the safest course that you can take, Is, to give up your self to his discretion, Before you be compelled. For rest assured, A voluntary yielding may find grace, And will admit defence, at least excuse: But should you linger doubtful, till his Powers Have seized your Person, and Estates perforce, You must expect extremes. Indeed, I have travailed hard, And will embrace your counsel. So Sir, this tempest is well overblown, And all things fallen out to our wishes. But In my opinion, this quick return, Before you have made a party in the Court Among the great ones (for these needy Captains Have little power in peace) may beget danger, At least suspicion. Use your own pleasure, I'll bear you company. My Lord, from whence Grows this amazement? You promised to be merry. I must borrow The privilege of a friend, and will, or else I am, Like these, a servant, or what's worse, A parasite to the sorrow, Storza worships In spite of reason. Would it were bestowed Upon a worthier subject. Have you stood the shock Of thousand enemies, and outfaced the anger Of a great Emperor, that vowed your ruin, Though by a desperate, a glorious way, That had no president? Are you returned with honour, Loved by your subjects? Does your fortune court you, Or rather say, your courage does command it? Have you given proof to this hour of your life, Prosperity (that searches the best temper) Could never puff you up, nor adverse fate Deject your valour? Shall I say, these virtues, So many and so various trials of Your constant mind, be buried in the frown (To please you I will say so) of a fair woman? Yet I have seen her equals. Well Sir, I'll not cross you, Nor labour to diminish your esteem Hereafter of her, since your happiness (As you will have it) has alone dependence Upon her favour, from my Soul, I wish you A fair atonement. Well said old sellow. Hold Sir, this is madness. It's so passed belief, To me it shows a fable. You speak Sir The language I should use. The Like was never read of. Troth I'll tell you, And briefly as I can, by what degrees He fell into this madness, When by the care Of his Physicians he was brought to life, As he had only passed a fearful dream, And had not acted what I grieve to think on, He called for fair Marcelia, and being told That she was dead, he broke forth in extremes, (I would not say blasphemed) & cried that heaven For all offences that mankind could do, Would never be so cruel as to rob it Of so much sweetness, & of so much goodness, That not alone was facred in her self, But did preserve all others innocent That had but converse with her: Then it came Into his fancy that she was accused By his mother & his sister, thrice he cursed they, And thrice his desperate hand was on his sword To have kill d'em both, but he restrained, & they Shunning his fury, spite of all prevention He would have turned his rage upon himself, When wisely his Physicians looking on The Duchess wound, to stay his ready hand, Cried out it was not mortal. He easily believing what he wished, More then a perpetuity of pleasure In any object else, flattered by hope Forgetting his own greatness, he fell prostrate At the doctors feet, implored their aid, & swore, Provided they recovered her, he would live A private man, & they should share his dukedom. They seemed to promise fair, and every hour Vary their judgements as they find his fit To suffer intermission, or extremes. For his behaviour since Now be your own witnesses. I am prevented. With me? What is he? Bring me to him, As I find cause I'll do. Do but this, Till we use means to win upon his passion T'indure to hear she's dead with some small patience And make thy own reward. I will procure it. Sooth me in all I say There is a main end in't. Look up Sir cheerfully, comfort in me Flows strong lie to you. Oh damned villain! Away with him. It is in vain to labour To call him back, wee'll give him funeral, And then determine of the state affairs And learn from this example ther's no trust In a foundation that is built on lust. Nor shall your expectation be deferred But a few minutes, your Physicians are Mere voice, and no performance, I have found A man that can do wonders, do not binder The Duchess wished recovery to inquire, Or what he is, or to give thanks, but leave him To work this miracle. 'Tis wondrous strange!