SFORZA

It's believed, Believed, my blessed One. Fit all: Let others feed On those gross Cates, while Sforza banquets with Immortal Viands, taken in at his Eyes. I could live ever thus. Command the Eunuch To sing the Ditty that I last composed, In praise of my Marcelia. From whence? Speak, is all lost? Though it bring death, isle read it. To doubt, Is worse then to have lost: And to despair, Is but to antedate those Misery's, That must fallen on us. All my Hope's depending Upon this battles fortune; In my Soul Me thinks there should be that Imperious power, By supernatural, not usual means, T'informe me what I am. The cause considered, Why should I fear? The French are bold and strong, Their numbers full, and in their counsels wise: But then, the haughty Spaniard is all Fire, Hight in his executions; Fortunate In his attempts; Married to victoric: I, there it is that shakes me. Would: Pardon me Marcelia, I am troubled; And stand uncertain, whither I am Master Of ought that's worth the owning. Out of my sighed, And all thoughts that may strangle mirth forsake me. Fallen what can fallen, I dare the worst of Fate; Though the Foundation of the Earth should shrink, The glorious Eye of Heaven lose his Splendour: Supported thus, I'll stand upon the ruins, And seek for new life here. Why are you sad? No other sports? By Heaven he's not my friend, That wears one Furrow in his Face. I was told There was a Masque. Bid'em enter: Come, make me happy once again. I am rap't, It's not to day, to morrow, or the next, But all my days, and years shall be employed To do thee honour. As wise as fair. From Gaspero? How, dead? All that my fears Could fashion to me or my enemies wish Is fallen upon me. Silence, that harsh music, It's now unseasonable; A tolling Bell, As a sad Harbinger to tell me, that, This pampered lump of Flesh, must seast the Worms. It's fitter for me, I am sick. Sick to the death, Marcelia, Remove These signs of mirth, they were ominous, and but vsherd Sorrow and ruin. All leave the room; I'll bear alone the burden of my grief, And must admit no partner. I am yet Your Prince, where's your obedience? Stay Marcelia I cannot be so greedy of a sorrow, In which you must not share. Oh Marcelia! It is for thee I fear: For thee, thy Sforza Shakes Like a coward; For my self, unmoved: I could have herd my troops were cut in pieces, My General slain; Ano' he; on whom my Hope's Of Rule, of State, of Life, had their dependence; The King of France, my greatest friend, made prisoner To so proud enemies. All this were nothing, Though I and to it, that I am assured For giving aid to this unfortunate King, The Emperor incensed, lays his command On his victorious Army, fleshed with spoil, And bold of conquest, to march up against me, And seize on my Estates: Suppose that done too, The City taken, the Kennels running blood, The ransick'd Temples, falling on their Saints: My Mother in my sighed, tossed on their Pikes, And Sister ravished: And my self bound fast In Chains, to grace their Triumph: Or what else, And Enemies insolence could load me with, I would be Sforza still; But when I think, That my Marcelia (to whom, all these Are but as Atomes to the greatest Hill) Must suffer in my cause: And for me suffer All Earthly torments; Nay, even those the damned Houl for in Hell, are gentle strokes, compared To what I feel Marcelia. But should that will To be so forced Marcelia? And I live To see those Eyes I prize above mine own, Dart favours (though compelled) upon another? Or those sweet Lips (yielding Immortal Nectar) Be gently touched by any but my self? Think, think Marcelia, what a cursed thing I were, beyond expression. Wait on him hither; And dearest to thy Closet: Let thy prayers Assist my counsels. The Marquisse of Pescara; A great Soldier: And though he served upon the adverse party, Ever my constant friend. My deer Pescara: A miracle in these times, a friend and happy, Cleaves to a falling fortune. I understand you, And I will put your counsel into act, And speedily; I only will take order For some Domestical affairs, that do Concern me nearly, and with the next Sun Ride with you; In the mean time, my best friend, Pray take your rest. With all care, Attend my Noble friend. Stay you, Francisco, You see how things stand with me? I think so: For I have cuer found you true, and thankful, Which makes me love the building I have raised, In your advancement: And repent no grace, I have conferred upon you: And belecue me, Though now I should repeat my favours to you, The Titles I have given you, and the means Suitable to your Honours, that I thought you Worthy my Sister, and my Family, And in my Dukedom made you next my self: It is not to upbraid you: But to tell you I find you are worthy of them in your love, And service to me. Thus, then Francisco; I now am to deliver to your trust, A weighty secret: Of so strange a nature, And it'll I know appear so monstrous to you, That you will tremble in the execution, As much as I am tortured, to command it: For it's a deed so horrid, that but to hear it, Would strike into a Russian fleshed in murders, Or and obdurate Hangman, soft compassion; And yet Francisco (of all Men the dearest, And from me most deserving) such my state, And strange condition is, that thou alone, Must know the fatal service, and perform it. But thou must swear it, And put into thy Oath, all joys, or torments That fright the wicked, or confirm the good: Not to conceal it only, that is nothing; But whensoever my will shall speak, strike now: To fallen vpon't Like Thunder. Thou must do then, What no malevolent Star will dare to look on, It is so wicked: For which, Men will curse thee, For being the Instrument: And the blessed Angels, Forsake me at my needs, for being the Author: For it's a deed of Night, of Night Francisco, In which the memory of all good Actions, We can pretend too, shall be buried quick; Or if we be remembered, it shall be To fright posterity, by our example: That have outgone all presidents of Villains, That were before us: And such as succeed, Though taught in hels black school, shall never come never us. Art thou not shaken yet? He try your temper: What think you of my Wife? Is the not the abstract Of all that's rare, or to be wished in Woman? And to her goodness, Her tenderness of me, Her care to please me, Her unsuspected chastity, never equaled: Her Innocence, her honour: Oh I am lost In the Ocean of her virtues, and her graces, When I think of them. Alas Francisco, Her greatest enemy is her greatest lover, Yet in that hatred, her Idolater. One smile of hers would make a savage tame; One accent of that tongue would calm the Seas, Though all the winds at once strove there for Empire. Yet I, for whom she thinks all this too little, Should I miscarry in this present journey, (From whence it is all number to a cypher, I never return with honour) by thy hand Must have her murdered. Do not fly off: What is decreed, can never be recalled; It's more than love to her, that marks her out, A wished companion to me, in both Fortune's: And strong assurance of thy zealous faith, That gives up to thy trust a secret, that Racks should not have forced from me. Oh Francisco: There is no heaven without her: nor a hell, Where she recides. I ask from her but justice, And what I would have paid to her: had sickness, Or any other accident divorced, Her purer soul, from his unspotted body. The slavish Indian Princes when they die Are cheerfully attended to the fire, By the wife, and slave, that living they loved best, To do them service in another world: Nor will I be less honoured, that love more. And therefore trifle not, but in thy looks, Express a ready purpose to perform, What I command, or by Marcelias soul, This is thy latest minute. I will Francisco; But still remember, that a Princes secrets Are balm, concealed: but poison, if discovered. I may come back; then this is but a trial, To purchase thee, if it were possible, A nearer place in my affection; but I know thee honest. I may live to reward it. I come not (Emperor) to invade thy mercy, By fawning on thy fortune; Nor bring with me Excuses, or denials. I prosesse (And with a good Men confidence, even this instant, That I am in thy power) I was thine enemy; Thy deadly and vowed enemy; One that wished Confusion to thy Person and Estates; And with my utmost powers, and deepest counsels (Had they been truly followed) furthered it: Nor will I now, although my neck were under The Hang men Axe, with one poor sillable Confess, but that I honoured the French King, More then thy self, and all Men. Now give me leave, (My hate against thy self, and love to him Freely acknowledged) to give up the reasons That made me so affected. In my wants I ever found him faithful; Had supplies Of Men and Moneys from him; And my Hope's Quite sunk, were by his Grace, bouy'd up again: He was indeed to me, as my good Angel, To guard me from all dangers. I dare speak (Nay must and will) his praise now, in as high And loud a key, as when he was thy equal. The benefits he sowed in me, met not Unthankful ground, but yielded him his own With fair increase, and I still glory in it. And though my Fortune's (poor, compared to his, And Milan weighed with France, appear as nothing) Are in thy fury burned: Let it be mentioned, They served but as small Tapers to attend The solemn flame at this great Funeral: And with them I will gladly wast my self, Rather then undergo the imputation, Of being base or unthankful. If that then to be grateful For courtesies received; Or not to leave A friend in his necessities, be a crime Amongst you Spaniards (which other Nations That Like your aimed at Empire, loved, and cherished Where ever they found it) Sforza brings his Head To pay the forfeit; Nor come I as a Slave, Piniond and setterd, in a squalid weed, Falling before thy Feet, kneeling and howling, For a forestalled remission; That were poor, And would but shame thy victory: For conquest Over base foes, is a captivity, And not a triumph. I never feared to die, More then I wished to live. When I had reached My ends in being a Duke, I wore these Robes, This Crown upon my Head, and to my side This Sword was girded; And witness truth, that now It's in another's power when I shall partly With them and life together, I am the same, My Veins then did not swell with pride; nor now, They shrink for fear: Know Sir, that Sforza stands Prepared for either fortune. But if example Of my fidelity to the French (whose honours, Titles, and glories, are now mixed with yours; As Brooks devoured by Rivers, lose their names) Has power to invite you to make him a friend, That hath given evident proof, he knows to love, And to be thankful; This my Crown, now yours, You may restore me: And in me instruct These brave Commanders (should your fortune change, Which now I wish not) what they may expect, From noble enemies for being faithful. The charges of the war I will defray, And what you may (not without hazard) force, Bring freely to you: I'll prevent the cries Of murdered Infants, and of ravished Maids, Which in a City sacked call on Heavens justice, And stop the course of glorious victories. And when I know the Captains and the Soldiers, That have in the late battle, done best service, And are to be rewarded; I, my self (According to their quality and merits) Will see them largely recompensed. I have said, And now expect my sentence. May I live To seal my loyalty, though with lose of life In some brave service worthy Caesars fouor, And I shall die most happy. Gentlemen, Receive me to your loves, and if henceforth There can arise a difference between us, It shall be in a Noble emulation. Who hath the fairest Sword, or dare go farthest, To sighed for Charles the Emperor? True, but such As far outstrip the Master; we'll contend In love hereafter, in the mean time pray you, Let me discharge my debt, and as in earnest Of what's to corn, divide this Cabnet: In the small body of it there are Jewels, Will yield a hundred thousand Pistolets, Which honour me to receive. And when great Charles commands me to his presence, If you will please to excuse my abrupt departure, Designs that most concern me next this mercy, Calling me home, I shall hereafter meet you, And gratify the favour. A name I ever owe you. Where true honour lives, Doubt hath no being, I desire no pawn Beyond and Emperor's word for my assurance: Beside, Pescara, to thy self of all men I will confess my weakness, though my State And Crown's restored me, though I am in grace And that a little stay might be a step To greater honours, I must hence. Alas, I live not here, my wife, my wife Pescara, Being absent I am dead. Prethe excuse, And do not chide for friendship sake my fondness But ride along with me, I'll give you reasons, And strong ones, to plead for me. Farewell grief, I am stored with Two blessings most desired in human life, A constant friend, and unsuspected wife. I have stood Silent thus long Marcelia, expecting When with more then a greedy hast thou wouldst Have flown into my arms, and on my lips Have printed a deep welcome. My desire To glaze my self in these fair eyes, have born me With more then human speed. Nor durst I stay In any Temple, or to any saint To pay my vows and thanks for my return, Till I had seen thee. How, why can there be A mean in your affections to Sforza? Or any act though near so lose that may Invite or heighten appetite, appear Immodest or uncomely. Do not move me, My passion to you are in extremes, And know no bounds, come kiss me. By all the joys of love, she does salute me As if I were her grandfather. What witch, With cursed spells hath quenched the amorous heat That lived upon these lips? Tell me Marcellia, And truly tell me, is't a fault of mine That hath begotten this coldness, or neglect Of others in my absence? How! It is more deer my friend, For I am doubtful whither I have a being, But certain that my life's a burden to me, Take me bake good Pescara, show me to Caesar, In all his rage and fury I discliame His mercy, to live now which is his guist, Is worse then death, and with all studied torments. Marcellia is unkind, nay worse, grown cold In her affection, my excess of fervor, Which it was never equaled, grown distasteful. But have thy wishes woman, thou shalt know That I can be my self, and thus shake off The setters of found dotage. From my sighed Without reply, for I am apt to do Something I may repent. Oh, who would place His happiness in most accursed woman, In whom obsequiousness engenders pride, And harshness deadly. From this hour I'll labour to forget there are such creatures; True friends be now my mistresses. Clear your brows, And though my heartstrings crack for't, I will be To all, a free example of delight: We will have sports of all kinds, and propound Rewards to such as can produce us new. Vnsatisfiz'd though we surfeit in their store. And never think of cursed Marcelia more. Hold your prating. Learn manners too, you are rude. Pray you use your freedom, And so far, if you please, allow me mine, To hear you only, not to be compelled To take your moral potions. I am a man, And though philosophy your mistress rage for't, Now I have cause to grieve, I must be sad, And I dare show it. Take heed, friend. You rub a soar, whose pain will make me mad, And I shall then forget my self and you. Lance it no further. Good Pescara, This language in another were profane, In you it is unmannerly. Her equal? I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly (To all men else, my Sword should make reply) Her goodness does disdain comparison, And but her self admits no parallel. But you will say she's cross, it's fit she should be When I am foolish, for she's wise, Pescara, And knows how far she may dispose her bounties, Her honour safe: or if she were averse, 'Twas a prevention of a greater sin Ready to fallen upon me, for she's not ignorant But truly understands how much I love her, And that her rare parts do deserve all honour, Her excellence increasing with her years to, I might have fallen into Idolatry, And from the admiration of her worth, Been taught to think there is no power above her, And yet I do believe, had Angels sexes, The most would be such women, and assume No other shape, when they were to appear In their full glory. Time, and my submission May work her to it. Oh! you are well returned, Say, am I blessed? hath she vouchfaf'd to hear you? Is there hope left that she may be appeased? Let her propound, and gladly I'll subscribe To her conditions. Ther's comfort yet, I'll ply her Each hour with new Ambassadors of more honours, Titles, and eminence. My second self Francisco, shall solicit her. What is that you mutter? I'll have thy thoughts. Oh my patience! My vassal speak thus? Let me go, I scorn to touch him, he deserves my pity, And not my anger, dotard, and to be one Is thy protection, else thou durst not think That love to my Marcellam hath left room In my full heart for any Iealons thought, That idle passion dwell with thick-skind Tradesmen. The undeserving Lord, or the unable, Lock up thy own wife fool, that must take physic From her young Doctor upon her back Because thou hast the palsy in that partly That makes her active, I could smile to think What wretched things they are that dare be jealous, Were I matched to another Messaline, While I found merit in my self to please her: I should believe her chased, and would not seek To find out my own torment, but alas, Enjoying one that but to me's a Dien, I'm too secure. If you come To bring me comfort, say, that you have made My peace with my Marcelia. You are my mother, Or by her life you were dead else. Take her head off, She hath blasphemed, and by our Law must die. Oh hell, what do I suffer? Some proof vile creature, Or thou hast spoke thy last. Oh the malice And envy of base women, that with horror Knowing their own defects and inward gilded, Dare lie, and swear, and damn, for what's most false, To cast aspersions upon one untainted, You're in your nature's devils, and your ends Knowing your reputation sunk for ever, And not to be recovered, to have all, Wear your black livery. Wretches, you have raised A Monumental trophy to her pureness, In this your studied purpose to deprave her, And all the shot made by your foul detraction Falling upon her sure-armed Innocence, Return's upon your selves, and if my love Could suffer and addition, I'm so far From giving credit to you, this would teach me More to admire & serve her, you are not worthy To fallen as sacrifices to appease her, And therefore live till your own envy burst you. Francisco, Though all the joys in woman are fled from me In thee I do embrace the full delight That I can hope from man. All leave the room, excuse me good Pesc. Ere long I will wait on you. Be within call, Perhaps we may have use of you. Say on my comfort. What new monsters Of misery stand ready to devour me? Let them at once dispatch me. Art thou mad? I am on the rack, Dissolve this doubtful riddle. Loves thee? O! Oh women! women! 'Twas Like thy self. Eternal plagues Pursue and overtake her, for her sake To all posterity may he prove a Cuckold, And Like to me a thing so miserable As words may not express him, that gives trust To all deceiving women, or since it is The will of Heaven to preserve mankind, That we must know, & couple with these serpents, No wiseman ever taught by my example Hereafter use his wife with more respect Then he would do his Horse that do's him service, Base woman being in her creation made A slave to man, but Like a village nurse Stand I now cursing, and considering when The tamest fool would do? Within there, Stephane, Tiberio, and the rest, I will be sudden, And she shall know and feel love in extremes, Abused knows no degree in hate. Go to the Chamber of that wicked woman. The devil my wife. Force a rude entry, and if she refuse, To follow you, drag her hither by the hair And know no pity, any gentle usage To her will call on cruelty from me To such as show it, Stand you staring! Go, And put my will in act. Nay, since she dares damnation, I'll be a fury to her. Intent Francisco? It does include all sact, and I might sooner Be wone to pardon treason to my Crown, Or one that killed my Father. Impudence, How ugly thou appearest now? Thy intent To be a whore, leaves thee not blood enough To make and honest blush, what had the act done? Your chief minion, Your chosen favourite, your wooed Francisco, Has dearly paid for't, for wretch, know he's dead, And by my hand. I begin now stabs her. In this my Justice. And Innocent? Let onc Call in Francisco for he lives (vile creature) To justify thy falsehood, and how often With whorish flatteries thou hast tempted him, I being only fit to live a stale, A bawd and property to your wantonness. Then I believe thee, Believe thee innocent too. Oh my heartstrings. As you have pity within. Support her gently. Carefully I beseech you, The gentlest touch torments her, & then think What I shall suffer. Oh you earthy gods, You second nature's, that from your great master (Who joined the limbs of torn Hyppolytus, And drew upon himself the Thunderers envy) Are taught those hidden secrets that restore To life death wounded men, You have a patient On whom to'xpresse the excellence of art, Will bind e'ne heaven your debtor, though It pleases To make your hands the organs of a work The saints will smile to look on, & good Angels Clap their Celestial wings to give it plaudits. How pale and won she looks? Oh pardon me, That I presume died over with bloody gilded, Which makes me I confess, far, far unworthy To touch this snow-white hand. How cold it is? This once was Cupid's firebrand, and still It's so to me. How slow her pulses Beatrice to? Yet in this temper she is all perfection, And Mistress of a heat so full of sweetness, The blood of virgins in their pride of youth Are balls of Snow or Ice compared unto her. I am patient, You see I do not rage, but wait your pleasure. What do you think she dreams of now? for sure Although her bodies organs are bound fast, Her fancy cannot slumber Sure, it's my good Angel, I do obey in all things; be it death For any to disturb him, or come near Till he be pleasd' to call us, o be prosperous And make a Duke thy Bondman. I am hushed, yet give us leave Thus prostrate at her feet, our eyes bent downwards, Unworthy, and ashamed to look upon her, T'expect her gracious sentence. From whence came that found? Was it from my Marcelia? if it were I rise and joy will give me wings to meet it. I live again In my full confidence that Marcelia may Pronounce my pardon. Can the speak yet? By all the dues of love I have had from her, This hand seems as it was when first I kissed it, These lips invite to, I could ever feed Upon these roses, they still keep their colour And native sweetness, only the nectar's wanting That Like the morning Due in flowery May Preserved them in their beauty. Call forth the tortures For all that flesh can feel. Eugenia. Like one, That learns to know in death what punishment; Waits on the breath of faith, o now I feel And Aetna in my entrails, I have lived A Prince, and my last breath shall be command I burn, I burn, yet ere life be consumed Let me pronounce upon this wretch all torture That witty cruelty can invent. I come death, I obey thee, Yet I will not die raging, for alas, My whole life was a frenzy. Good Eugenia In death forgive me, As you love me bear her To some religious house, there let her spend The remnant of her life, when I am ashes Perhaps shee'll be appeared, and soar a prayer For my poor soul. Bury me with Marcelia And let our Epitaph be— You are the Mistress of the feast, fit here; Oh my souls comfort: And when Sforza bows Thus low to do you honour, let none think The meanest service they can pay my love, But as a fair addition to those titles, They stand possessed of. Let me glory in My happiness, and mighty Kings look pale With envy, while I triumph in mine own. Oh mother look on her, sister admire her: And since this present age yields not a woman Worthy to be her second, borrow of Times passed: and let imagination help Of those canonized Ladies Sparta boasts of, And, in her greatness, Room was proud to owe To fashion: and yet still you must confess, The Phoenix of perfection never was seen, But in my fair Marcelia. It need not my Marcelia; When most I strive to praise thee, I appear A poor detracter: For thou art indeed So absolute in body, and in mind, That, but to speak the least partly to the height, Would ask and Angels tongue: and yet then end In silent admiration! A Mistress mother? she is more to me, And every day, deserves more to be de too. Such as are cloyed with those they have embraced, May think their wooing done: No night to me, But is a brydall one, where Himen lights His torches fresh, and new: And those delights, Which are not to be clothed in airy sounds, nioyd, beget desires, as full of heat, And Jovial fervor, as when first I tasted Her virgin fruit; Blessed night, and be it numbered Amongst those happy ones, in which a blessing Was by the full consent of all the Stars, Conser'd upon mankind. Oh swear, for ever swear. She was ever kind And her displeasure though called on, short lived Upon the least submission. Oh you powers That can conucy our thoughts to one another Without the end of eyes, or ears, assist me, Let her behold me in a pleasing dream, Thus on my knees before her (yet that duty In me is not sufficient) let her see me Compel my mother (from whom I look life) And this my sister, Partner of my being, To bow thus low unto her, let her hear us In my acknowledgement freely confess That we in a degree as high are guilty, As she is innocent; bite your tongues, vile creatures, And let your inward horror fright your souls For having belide that pureness, to come near which All women that posterity can bring forth Must be, though striving to be good, poor Rivals. And for that dog Francisco (that seduced me In wounding her to raise a temple built To Chastity and sweetness) let her know I'll follow him to hell, but I will find him, And there live a fourth fury to torment him. Then for this cursed hand and arm that guided The wicked steel, I'll have them joint by joint, With burning irons seared of, which I will eat. I being a vulture fit to taste such carrion, Lastly. Speak. How found she sleeps! Heaven keep her from a lethargy; how long (But answer me with comfort I beseech you.) Do's your sure judgement tell you that these lids That cover richer jewels then themselves Li'ke envious night will bar these glorious suns From shining on me? Angels reward the goodness of this Woman: All I can pay is nothing. Why uncalled for?) You are all goodness, And I give up my selse to be disposed of, As in your wisdom you think fit.