MACARIO

Grief, Madam, should be Like A short Sea-storme; soon as a calmer air Hath smoothed the rugged waters, there's not seen The least impression which the formers rage Made on their even surface. I am still Your son in duty, as in blood; And though I share not in this out ward act of sorrow For my dead Father (since the mourning ceremonies Of Court should be prescribed to stricter limits Of time, than where affairs and men are private) His memory presents it self as fresh To every apprehension that assails me, As when his living precepts taught me how To be a Prince, by more than the election Of Fortune and my Birth: His virtues shall Be (as I hope) my souls inheritance, Well as his dignities: I'll be directed By their examples. I'm yet too young, Corvino. Madam, The lose you suffer is repaired in me; I'll own no honours, nor delights of earth, But what my duty shall confer on you: Making your present greatness equal to The former without discontinuance: I will call nothing mine, more than a title, And ceremonious outside. Speak Corvino. Your Oratory hath power to draw attention, What ever the subject be. Blush not Lady. If Fortune hath designed you for a Princess, To Melissa. The favour's worth the courting with a smile, And cheerful aspect, so't transport you not From a becoming duty. Rise lovely maid. (Riseth. Fair Melissa take Thy Princes grant. You, Spurio, counsel this? She is your sister; And 'twould be some additions to your honours (Though they are many which your merits challenge) To see your sister graced with the high Title Of our great Duchess. Brave spirit. Thy virtue moves me. My dearest Spurio, How thou appearest in this humility! Nor do I think it any counterfeit To whet my yet cold appetite. Her form, Though it be full of active fire, enough To move the dullest earth, wherein a soul Hath made its habitation, I not dote on: Nor will it prejudice your worth Metissa, In that your Prince refuseth you: Affection Must not guide us, but counsel. That choice shall want No honour we can give it. And deer Madam (To Infelice. Your self have youth enough and beauty yet T'admit a second fellowship: Elect Even where you please, our duty shall allow it: Virtue and judgement guide you. Yet if hereafter You would at any time confer such honour, Let it be Lord Corvinos. These events shall be Exeunt Mac. Infe. Ladies, the rest re maining. Referred to time and providence Welcome again into our bosom Soldier. Wee'd have you now leave Actium, and apply Your ready will to entertain and manage The honours we intend you, as rewards Endue to your valour and success: you have Settled our peace at home by the subversion Of all our neighbouring enemies, and now It's fit you share a full proportion Of all you laboured for, that we in ease And softness might securely please our senses; And know no sufferings more then what are incident To every prince, our cares: those lessoned too By our grave Counsels industry. I wish You would move something from your own desires, That granted might be valued by your self: We should be free. We give The spoils to be distributed, and pension To every soldier; and unto thy self— I know not what: considerate judgements must. Allow the gift a worth before I offer it. Embrace you two while I embrace ye both. Why does my Spurio frown upon his brother? Can his clear soul give entertainment to Neglect or envy? such a glorious pair To suffer and Eclipse. Do not you my Lord To Corvino. Conceive strange joys, to see so fair and issue Make your age happy? We'll have some revels, It's fit that Soldiers sometime should have rest, And taste the Courts delights. We'll first thank Heaven, And then we'll see some maskery. This day We'll honour with solemnities. Exeunt. What's this horror? The Scene presents a Tragedy; our Guard. Our mother dead, and our two friends made liveless By one another? grief seal up mine eyes With and eternal darkness. Remove The bodies decently, and then support me: Exit Guard with the Bodies, the Ladies following My spirits faint. Corvino we would have The best account you can of this sad business, To which you cannot choose but have relation, Considering the persons and the manner; Speak your best knowledge. Know you What were the motives to their difference, That fired such anger in them? I would it never had been, Or I to know it. We will respect her. What's that? Utter it, It'll make thy peace with heaven; what is't Cardente? Corvino, Here's a discovery renders you so vile, That new suspicions spring from't: Neither can we Trust our own safety where a murderer Sits near our favour. Tortures therefore shall Force from you what they can. Just death. Take him away; provide for's execution. This day I'll see it done; it'll set more fairly. Lust and ambition are two means of evils, That practised by their owners make them devils.