VITTORI

Stand. 1. Stand. 2 Stand. 3 Stand. The King received intelligence! 'Tis strange, Is it not possible we have mistook The shore, transported with our naval victory, Speak gentlemen! or do we dream? A general silence Like night dwells round about us, and no sign That men inhabit, have we won at Sea To loose our selves upon the Land? or in Our absence hath some monster landed here And made it desolate, devoured the Natives, And made em creep into the earth again? They cannot take us for their enemies, Captain inquire the cause, let none else move; Yet stay, unless it be some strange mortality, And yet that cannot be, have we brought home Their safety purchased through so many horrors, And is this all the payment for our conquest? To shut the gates upon us. For such another rashness Thy head shall be the bullet of that Canon, And shot into the town; go to! be temperate, As I grudge none the merit of their valour, I must hear none so bold. Subject's are bound to fight for princes, they Not bound to the reward of every service, I look upon thee now fighting at sea, And have forgotten this error, give no breath To such a thought hereafter Honour pays Double where Kings neglect, and he is valiant Truly that dares forget to be rewarded. And yet 'tis strange the King should thus neglect us, This is cheap entertainment for a conqueror Is't not Mauritio? misery of Soldiers When they have sweat blood for their Countries honour, They stand at others mercy. Is the Prince Alive, to whom we owe our Countries quarrel The difference of both Kingdoms? Our war and Fortune's justify his act Can he be guilty of this shame? no more, There's something would feign mutiny within me, Strangle the snakes betime Vittori —so This was a way to forfeit all our fame's; Fold up your Ensigns throw off all the pride That may express a triumph, well march on As we had over bought our victory. Alone? more strange and fatal, It may be 'tis my genius come to give A melancholy warning of my death, As Brutus had from his, I'll stand my destiny, Yet bearing the resemblance of a woman It will less terrify, who should this be? Enter Cassandra veiled in mourning. Lady your garment speaks you a sad woman, Griefs should salute no nearer, if it were In poor Vittories power to dispossess you Of any sorrow. Cassandra? We are rewarded, had Vittori taken Into his body a thousand wounds, this kiss Had made me well again, or but one drop Of this rich balsome, for I know thy tears Are joy to see Vittori safe, the King With all the glories of his Province cannot Do half this honour to his Admiral, I have a place above all happiness, And meet a greater empire in thy love Then fame or victory hath ever boasted, My own my best Cassandra! I was too careless Of this sad habit, joy to see thy face Made me distinguish nothing else, proceed And punish my too prodigal embraces, It is not fit I be in one thought blessed And thou in such a Livery. If it only point At me, speak it at once, I am collected, Shat see I will be conqueror at home, If it concern thy self, let it not flow Too fast, but rather let my ear receive it By such degrees as may not kill too soon, But leave me some life only to revenge it. He cannot! Would! The Prince do this! Will the King suffer this? Mauricio didst hear this? we must ask Forgiveness that we have been valiant, Repent our duties, and that victory We bought so deer, we should have died at sea, And then perhaps been talked on in the crowd Of honest men, for giving up our lives, Which for our service they may now take from us, We are not yet I that snare, and we have power To stis e their designs, and prevent our Dishonourable fallen. No Mauricio let em be the Kings, If such as they forget their office, we Must keep our thoughts unstained, isle to the King, But without any train. Safety is a lecture To be read to Children, I do always carry My own security within, Mauricio, Yet do not think I am desperate, isle take No knowledge of the Princes Actium But give account of my engagement, thats Not much amiss, the King I know is gracious And the Prince too, how ever passion play This rebel in our soul. And the Prince, Lets all look smooth, the King is come himself To gratulate our success. Enter King of Naples, Prince, Julio, Fabio, Alberto. You too much honour The poor Vittori, who at your feet lays His heart and victory, and that which gave Him power to do you service. Let me prostrate My duty to your highness, and be honoured To kiss your hand. My father insolent, and I guilty sir, Because I share his blood? o that I knew In what partly of my veins to find those drops, That I might sacrifice to your anger And expiate my Father's sin! Is this all my reward? You speak not this to me sir. Sir you have mercy in you. I? witness the Angels. Good heaven forgive him, is this all, All my reward? Ask—why—I ask my father. Goodness leave me not the wonder Of all mankind; gentlemen all gone. I that commanded thousands This morning am not owner of one servant. Dost thou stay with me? The King returns, Cassandra. How banishment? Can my Cassandra think so? That word shall make me live a little longer, But these are strange turns Madam, Naples hath No dwellings for us, when we are quit of these, We'll with our grief make tame some wilderness. Base villains, to take partly With all the malice of the world against me. I am a Gentleman, and dare Rather than suffer a rude hand divorce This burden from my arms, defy you all. Alas she will be gone, o my Cassandra Thy oule shannot forsake thee thus, isle take it In with a kiss. Come not too near, the man that first attempts This Lady, had better rip his mother's womb. You are strangers I perceive, Then I presume to tell you, I have more justice, To tread upon this earth, then you, or any The proudest, it once gave us birth, and fate Ungentle fate, hath sent us back to die here, But I will not outlive my deer Cassandra. Not while my hand can manage this, the blood You take, will make us walk on even pace To death, and when my soul can stay no longer, I'll leave a curse to blast you, but if you Bear hearts of flesh about you, and will promise A pity to this poor departing Spirit I will not use a sword, but give my life To be commanded from me at your pleasure, Your care will come too late. Though that name Breed wonder in me, it secures all thoughts That may concern her safety. Something on the sudden Weighs my heart lower, I would not power to thank him. My name's Vittori. It was a title! I had too late, and lost it for my service; I cannot conjure up the dead to witness, There be some living that remember me, It was my chance to have the best at sea, Against the bold Sicilian. Few victories can boast more e, all is but The die of War, which valour must obey, My lot was to bring peace, and triumph home, And my reward was banishment, the sea Held me a sinful burden to the waves, Or else the blood I shed to mix with em, In anger and revenge conspired to throw Our Bark, with the distressed lading back Upon this flinty bosom of your Country, You have at full my misery, be just To that poor Lady, whatsoever I suffer. Will a King stain his honour? I ask no mercy for my self, be kind To that poor Lady, as you're a Prince, and I Will kiss my fate. O my Cassandra, When at the expense of all my blood, I have bought Thy precious life from these hard hearted men, Shed one tear on me; and I am paid again. I wait sir your command. Enjoys my best Cassandra perfect health, The King is just, and I have not enough With this poor life to satisfy. All that's good reward him, To see thee safe and smile, I writ my ambition. It carries more Darkness then ever the night was guilty of, And I look black already to have read it, Does he call treason justice, such a treason As heathens blush at, Nature, and Religion Tremble to hear, to fight against my country, 'Tis a less sin to kill my Father, there, Or stab my own heart, these are private mischiefs, And may in time be wept for, but the least Wouud I can fasten on my Country makes A Nation bleed, and my self too, blasts all The memory of former actions, And kills the name we live by, o Cassand a Thou didst not well to praise the King for this. Prithee tell me? How canst thou hope I should preserve my faith Unstained to thee, and break to all the world? Take heed, and do not grieve the Saints to hear thee, If Naples have forgotten Vittories service, I must not make a desperate shipwreck of My piety, what greater vow? It was Articled in the creation of my soul I should obey, and serve my Country with it Above my self, death is a brave excuse for't, No he shall see, I am a Soldier And dare be just, say he should torture me, Shall wickedness be strong in punishment, And we not be as valiant in our suffering? Do not say so? Princes will court thee then, and at thy feet Humble their Crowns, and purchase smiles with Provinces, When I am dead the world shall dote on thee And pay thy beauty tribute, I am thy Affliction, and when thou art discharged From loving me, thy eyes shall be at peace, A Sun more glorious shall draw up thy tears Which gracing heaven in some new form, shall make The Constellations blush, and envy em; Or if thy love of me be so great, that when I am sacrificed Thou wot think of me, let this comfort thee, I die my Countries Martyr, and ascend Rich in my scarlet robe of blood, my name Shall stain no Chronicle, and my Tomb be blessed With such a garland time shall never wither: Thou with a troop of Wives as chaste as thee, Shall visit my cold Sepulcher, and glory To say, this does enclose Vittories dust, That died true to his honour, and his country, Methinks I am taking of my leave already, And kissing the wet sorrrowes from thy cheek, Bid thee rejoice, Vittori is a conqueror, And death his way to triumph. To make it show indeed, I have talked idly, And miserably forgotten my self, I am changed ck'd, This tells me another tale, if I refuse To obey the Kings directions, he is not So kind to take the forfeit of my life, But he will make the price of my neglect, Cassandra is innocent blood, if I obey not To do and act injurious to virtue, Thy soul must be divorced. I cannot hold, this conflict is more fierce Then many thousand battles, canst thou die? How should Cassandra die to save Vittori? I am in a tempest And know not how to steer, destruction dwells On both sides. I must—to let Thee live, I will take arms, forgive me then Great Genius of my Country, that to save Her life, I bring my honour to the grave. Thus Naples is saluted from my Master, Provoked by injuries above the patience Of kings to suffer, without thirst of blood Or pride of conquest, he is come in arms To ask a satisfaction, if you would Not know the fury of a war, which acts, Such horrid ruins gainst men and nature, that Repentance cannot easily absolve The gilded in them that caused it, meet conditions, And deserve timely my great Master's friendship, With mercy on your selves. Remember wounds are made more easily Then curd, and now arrived within your country, Revenge may spread a wild destruction, Let mother's still enjoy their sleep, and dwell Within their husbands bosom, let their children Live to requite the parents groan, and prosper, Let old men pay their debt only to nature, And virgins dedicate their yet chased womb To Hymen's holy use, or at their quires With freedom of their souls, sing holy prayers For the sweet peace you lend em, to serve heaven. I claim my privilege, and dare say more. Vittori is our general. When Kings leave Their justice, and throw shame upon deservers, Patience so wounded turns a fury. Yes he has good pledge; Too great a pawn. Honest? I dare not stay to hear more; least my passion Betray me, what a fire this language has Shot through my blood, the poor old king says nothing, But fills a place Like a state cipher. Would? Thunder has struck me, I feel new sti gs about my heart, my father? Was ever man oh miserably thrown Upon despair, if I refuse their war I loose my wife Cassandra, if I fight My father bleeds, some divine arm sustain My feeble soul, instruct it how I should Distinguish sorrow, and which blessing rath r I should now partly with, a deer wife, or father. The Prince? I dare not trust my senses, would? How came he hither? wonder circles me, Cassandra busy with him too? she courts him, The Basilisk is not more killing than This object. Would? What name was that the Prince bestowed upon you, Yet do not answer me, away, new tortures. Your grace is mighty merry, I could wish You had more cause. Are you not a prisoner? My Lord You are too rash in censure, I betray you? I am so far from the conspiracy That yet I cannot reach it in my thought, Much less with guilty knowledge, I dare tell you The Devil shannot tempt me too't, nor more Wrongs then your hate can throw upon me. Heaven and this King Know upon what severe necessity I am engaged to war. Cassandra? Indeed you called her strumpet, She may deserve it by this story, 'tis Her character, my eyes, take in new horror. (he reads) My Lord, if it be not too late, to be sensible of your princely affe ction to me, I implore your mercy, and will deserve it by my repen tance. I am by misfortune a captive to your enemy, but blessed with the freedom to remember you, I have a design for my enlarge meant, and if I durst cherish and ambition of your presence this night, dare confidently pronounce our mutual happiness, this ring be wit ness of my true invitation, and doubt not her faith to your safety, who will sooner forfeit her own life, than betray you to the least dishonour. This gentleman shall instruct you with more particulars, pardon great prince this infinite boldness of your servant, and if all the seeds of love be not worser stroyed, visit and preserve your other wise miserable Cassandra. And all this while I live, and have my senses, Oh woma woman! sir if you remember It your conclusion, if I refused To be your General against my Country, Cassandra's head should off, be constant King, I wonot. Not fight, nor for your Kingdom, She cannot bleed too much, as for you sir. You're still my Prince, thank heaven for that, Did you else grasp and Empire, and your person Guarded with thunder, I would reach and kill you, By my just rage I would, stay I will fight. With you or all the world, that dare maintain There is a woman virtuous. You may with as much ease, discharge me of A life too, your breath does it, for I dare Not kill my self, in that I am a Coward. O my hearts grief, preserve my right wits heaven; The wickedness of other women could But shame themselves, which Like wild branches, being Cut off, the tree is beautiful again, But this spreads and infection, and all The sex is wounded in Cassandr'as fallen: Madam I have and humble suit to you. For her sake I beg it. That you would speak toth' King. To cut my head off. With sword or axe, or by what other engine He please, I know yowl easily obtain it, 'Tis for Cassandra is sake, I would be feign Dispatched, sheele thank you too, and then the prince And she may revel. As you Love virtue do this favour—if you make Scruple, there is a King a little further Will take my life away at the first word, For I am resolved to die. These are delays. And thank you too, I'll doo't by your fair self, now, now, you bless me? Without exception, I'll obey you Madam. Do you not mock me. Instantly. Come I wait you, but 'tis strange Why you should thus engage your self? I attend you, now farewell false Cassandra. Again. Those words deer Lady, that concerned Cassandra. All your pardon I must hear this first. You have kept your word, & heaven reward your soul for't, My duty sir to you, and to my Father. This beauty is her least perfection, It speaks her woman, but her soul and Angel, But I forget Cassandra all this while. What should this be? Reads. Noble Vittori, we know you are a Soldier, and present you not with naked pity of your fortune, what some Prince would take away we have purpose to cherish, your life enjoy your self, and with it the Command of all our Forces. Naples ingratitude, if you have put no false shape upon your injuries, may be argument enough to your revenge and justice. Be our Soldier, fight against your Con try, so with one valour, you punish them, and make us satisfaction, we will have pledge for this trust in Cassandra, whose head shall be the price of your disobedience. Sure I have lost my understanding would? Does it not bid me to fight against my Country? I prithee read Cassandra, and repent, Thou hast thought him merciful. O my Cassandra.