DUKE

My glorious Boy, you are too vigilant: The Sun, and you, do visit me at once. This courtship is not safe. You must not meet Your Lover, with a Rival, glorious As your self. Forest! welcome from Genoa, How fares our Brother Cardinal? Sure this tame Priest will make us all Cowards. We must a truce confirm with Genoa. Well, be it so. Where now (my noble Boy) Shall I occasion find, to testify That you deserve my love, by virtue of your own? In sickly times, when War and civil Spleen Besiege the Heart, with treacherous designs, A friend shall find a cause to make him known, But now in fair weather: I need not ask What Houell's never? Darest thou then die for me? Here—make thy self a sacrifice to Fame, Take it: and I will be thy Chronicler. Oh Lucio! thou art my Earew g now, Creepest in my ear, to feast upon my Brains. When in my private graven I lie enclosed, More silent then my ruined Fame: no tongue Shall pay his tribute to my memory But thine: for thou art likely to survive. Thy years are few, but full of gratitude.— Come: hie we to the Park: The sprightful morn Gives motion wings, and liberty to those Whom lameness stakes unto the ground. Death encounter they! Lucio shut the door! 'Tis the plague of greatness, the curse Of pomp, that in our darkest privacy, we must Even public be to every Men affairs. How now! All these saucy Troops of brawling Suitors, attend on you my glorious Boy. But yet observe (my Lucio ) Th'vnkind tricks of Nature: how we are fooled By a religious constancy in Love. A Princes hate does ruin where it falls: But his affection warmeth where it shines Until it kindle fire to scorch himself. If we are subject to the sin of Heaven, (Too much charity) extremity of love: Let there be mercy shown in punishment. Why is the corrupted use of Royal love Imputed to our charge, to our Audit laid? We that with all those Organs furnished are All those faculties natural in Men: Yet limited in use of each: prescribed Our conversation, by a saucy form Of State. How can we choose (by this restraint) But struggle more for liberty? make choice Of some one Ear; wherein to empty out our Souls, When they are full of busy thoughts; of plots Abortive, crude, and thin. T'is cheap, and base For Majesty not to be singular In all effects. Oh then, if I must give my heart To the command of one: send him (sweet Heaven!) A modest appetite: teach him to know The stomach sooner surfeits with too much, Then starves for lack of that supply Which covetous Ambition calls want. For when my Friend begs, my bounty then Concludes to make me poor before that he Shall so unthrifty be of breath to ask in vain. Distraction! tameness! Oh my Lucio. How canst thou construe this. After I have chid I seem to flatter thee. Peace— I will no more employ my memory Thus to discourage thine. Where's Forest! T'is fit he know you are not vigilant In his behalf. Farelo de Sforza (My old Secretary) is newly dead: The place is his. I shall expect no thanks From you, nor yet from him: My bounty is requited in her choice. Thou now wouldst certify, His birth obscure and base discourageth Such earnest help to his so great promotion. Not a jot: Know my Boy! t'is the vulgar, Not the Royal trade to patch up things: Or seek to mend what was before of quality Perfect enough it self. To make a Man Of nothing: why this same creation Inclines a little near Divinity. Near the old performance; which from Chaos Drew this multitude of subtle forms. We do aff ct his thoughts Such industry Proclaims him fit for high designs: Some Men Attend the talking Drum, and riddle out Their lives on Earth; with Madness Sophistry: Calling their lose, their gain, danger, delight. Some men converse with Books, and melt the brain In sull n study how to vindicate The liberal Arts. Those lose formality, Then grow Methodical; and die i'th' dark. Some practice rules of State, and suffer much For Honours sake: nay tread upon themselves At first; to reach the higher. Some pursue The Plough; and in their wholesome sweat do swim. And some that furnished are with nimbler souls, Employ their times in wanton exercise; Masques and Revels: the compliments of Love, And Love I find the easiest vanity. Hark: sure the gallery door is left unlocked. Are we debarred all place of privacy? Nature in us hath lost her vulgar right. A loud, bawling suitor; does not waken Charity, but deafen her. A shame upon they all? In Lucio. Forest Are yet our Letters to his Holiness Dispatched? Did the French-Embassador make some show Of discontent at his departure hence? 'Tis faithfully observed. The chance of war, Admitteth many times of Miracles, Even such, as do discredit History, High-prouidence confers the conquest there, Where probability conferred the lose. And this is done, that we may attribute The praise to him that gave the victory, Not to them that God it. Observe beside, That when the weak do overcome: the strong, Do leave that stain, for their Posterity To wipe away: which is already done; The French, have fiery ni ble spirits. Thou dost mistake in natural effects, Where Fanc is so rich, the incident To S me u -expense. These Divulge the wealth oh he Brain. uite that is ripe Is prove to fallen, or to self. to the e of archies: That y now are full ripe: they reach The height, and of mortal aeuleies. Nature them does stand upon the verge Of her y uth The English want Three u dreaded y eres of that perfection. And as the Moo e never changes but i'th'full Even so the mighty Nations of the Earth, Change in their greatest glory. First their strict And rugged worser scipline, to vain delights. Their solemn Marches next to wanton igs. Their Battles fierce to Duels spleenatiue, Or witty quarrels of the Pen. Sure we may trust, the judgement of our eyes, Thou dost not look as if thou couldst commit A sin so horrid, so ugly as can fright Our mercy from us. Rise, we pardon thee. Now let us know thy crime. Hah! married? speak suddenly, to whom? Forest this is ill. What confederate with ungoverned youth? But , we pardon you. Where's the Lady? Rare beauty!— You have our pardon, and our favour too. I thus invite more knowledge of your worth. Believe me Lady: you have a feature That old b tray a more experienced Eye Then Lucio's is. Excellent wretch! with a Timorous modesty, she stifleth up Her v terance. Oh such a pregnant Eye! And yet slow of speech; is a wonder More worser ightfull, then any Nature makes. Hast thou Lucio, so much vnh ppy wit, As to be jealous yet? with thou suppose Thy self S c re in our discou see? Come hither Lady, come, confess, how chance Y u have b witched my Boy with subtle smiles, With won on haviour of those pretty Eyes? Does H ven bestow such Noble ornaments, To be abused in the use: and now He is your Prisoner too, in cheerful bonds, How can you have the heart to make S changed spoil, And havoc of his beauty? hah! speak Lady! No! look, look there. His Eyes for very shame Their luster's lost are crep't into his head: Encircled with the weakly cullor blue. The Roses in his Cheeks are withered quite His clear and brisk aspect is muddy now And dull: His voice (that was so shrill; and could Even Trumpetlike, outscolde the Ecchoe) Is hollow grown, and horce. Have you then used him well? Beleeu't (young wife) I am no Proselyte, I still aver, you are that greedy Nymph, That hath devoured the rich complexion of my Boy. See how his feature's shrunk? his beauty stained? The Scythian Dame (whose cruelty is such, Whose lust so prodigal, that she does strive To kill the able Lecher in the act; Making her womb his Sepulchre) would yet Have spared that wanton handsomeness; to show As pattern of her Lenity. No matter Lady. My accusation shall withdraw it self. Pretty innocence! Lucio, prepare. 'Tis our will to make thy Wife a Courtier; She shall be high in favour; if she'll leave Her modesty; that's out of fashion now: In Neighbour Courts, the Ladys so prevail With masculine behaviour: they grow In factions able to depose their Husbands From the charter of their Sex. Your Marriage we will solemnize with masques, And Revels. If Invention ver mean, To get reward for subtlety; 'tis now. We take notice ( Lucio ) She is thy wife, And thy sister our Forest. To wrong my boy, unkind, incestuous heat! Why is Copulation legal; it gives Authority to lust, for chastetie Would soon conclude the World. Oh virtuous Pre dice, when error, prevents folly! Fiends, Devils, that do live in liquid fire, Have constitutions not half so hight, So riotous as mine. But why this? The beauteous Corsa is not yet defiled. He that repents ever he commits a fault, Does Like a thirsty, sinner store his Soul With mercy, to absolve that sin himself; Which he may afterwards, more securely Fallen into. Enough this soon Initiates. The credulous Count her husband, I have sent To Lucca. And tomorrow he returns. My plots are limited too short a time To become Actions. Nor was it skill To send the Jewel by her sister. Mark! My Soul and brain, are perfect Courtiers grown; In my declention, and my greatest want They leave me to instruct, and help my self. How soon, I've profited in discipline Of Hell I must through What I did mean Adultery at first; will now I fear Become a Rape. Castrucho! art thou come? Thou hast been a Courtier long; but whither 'Twas want of skill in me to choose a Man, Or want of luck in thee to be my choice; Suspense makes neutral. But know; my love Was tardy, because still void of leisure; To warrant passion well bestowed; by safe (Though tedious) trials. Affection That is slow, is sure: And now, I wear my heart Not in m ne own breast, but thine. I am not skilled in words. But I affect Thy fury. For thou art the bold Satyr, That whips Forest, and the wanton Count, In thy tart Verse. Nay, make not thy confession and excuse Rather then a story: For there needs none. I hate Forest, and the Count, and would Devise succinct ways to my revenge. This is a damned Hypocrite. Chamellons Changes, are not so intricate to sense. Castruchio! ease me with nimble apprehension. I have not leisure, to be modest now. Speak; hast no acquaintance with any near Corsa's person; the Counts fair wife? I beg of thee not to mistake the sense Of my designs. My words import my heart, And both, no danger unto thee. What prolix love is this; Dost thou indent With my acceptance, make choice of services! Death! and horror! thy suspicions are too thin. Consider why I sent the Count to Lucca? Upon my life thou art secure: therefore Reply unto my former question. In Corsa's woman known to thee? Discharge thy tongue. May my ears blister If they digest words to thy prejudice. There's Gold. Castruchio, show some pity On rebellious blood. Be my Harbinger, Billet me this night where she does lie And thou art made for ever. Strict opportunity will have it so. Her Lord returns with the next Sun. Enough! here's more Gold. Smmon up thy brain Thy heart, thy soul, to meet in consultation, And so contrive my peace, Farewell. My self and my Exchequer are thine own. There needs no Art to work him into evil; He is bade enough t'infect the Devil. Oh silly, weak evasion! being dark, I creep within my Cloak. to is modesty In sin to practice every disguise To hide it from the World. But Creatures free from gilded Affect the Sun, and hate the dark; because It hides their innocence. Oh traitor Lust. That leads us with encouragement to fight, And when we have discharged our Veins for thee, W'are besieged with thoughts, that more perplex us Then the former. For then we did complain Of strength; but now of weakness more. Away, way. T'is time that I were gone: The modest Morn does blush i'th' East, as if Ashamed to see so fowl a Ravisher. Does she insist in censure of the act With such a stern impatience, and dislike? And I have sent to stay him there: until A new Commission order his return. Oh quintessence of Soul. I will devote My actions wholly to thy use. Good night. Castruchio; I have better thought vpon't. I would not have thee hurt my Boy: use him Kindly for my sake. Not for the world. Thou dost not know his Soul. He's of so soft, so sweet a property, That he inchants where he is known. Beside, I find I am so powerful over his youth: That I shall soon extirpate from his memory The wrong I did his Wife, and him. As for Forest: his experience is of growth Too stubborn, of practice stiff; and will not Be remoo'd from his revenge, by strength of words. Therefore, let him no mercy feel: but let; My Boy be gently used for my sake. Farewell— No; it must not be— Lucio (my Boy) is not proscribed. Take heed Castruchio! If thou dost extend thy hand: In motion, boisterous, and rough to him; Thou dost infect all thy other kindness: And I shall see thee as a Cockatrice: That will enforce my Optick-nerues to shrink, And pull my Eyes into my skull. Look to't. Once more then good Night. Hah! from whence that light! who waits within How? Is this Language lawful, unto me Thy Sovereign Prince. Did not high-prouidence, Triple the assurance of my safety: By Guards invisible, when I was first Predestinate to this supreme function? And darest thou tempt the strength of Heaven? Which soon returns: unless distinction Persuade thee fix my Royalty, above Thy reach: that art my natural Subject. I will. Never. So come my Soul to Heaven, as I Speak truth. I gave it to disguise the cause, for which I sent the other unto Corsa. What, Is he there too? Oh killing object! The cause deserves great alteration. More then mortality can see, and yet Be safe. I wonder Heaven takes so little Notice of it. I am not sindg'd to death With Lightning Like the Dorr: nor murdered through The Ear with thunder; Like a Batt. Oh Lucio! Mind not my former love: but strike, until I groan my last. Oh I shall survive my Royal Charter! My creature is more beautiful then I: More wealthy in his love. Lucio stay, Forest stay awhile. Leave me not thus anatomized with breath. Dissect me really with your good Swords. Behold my Breast, take out my Heart: and if You find your figures there, then use my Fame With Mercy. Hide me swelling Hills! rough, and scabbed Rocks, You Quarrles cleave, and suck me in, then join Again. Would it not make a Patriarch mad? Oh who shall bribe the Sun, that in the day Of general accounts: he may avouch He never saw me here. Hah! false Memory! I forgotten to tell they of Castruchio. 'Tis best to overtake they. I cannot guess Which way they went. If I should come too late?— Oh, Oh, Oh, I am surprised in my own snare. Lucio, Let my Soul, carry your pardon With her unto Heaven; and yours Forest. This strangeme was mine, but the success, Was much against my will. Amen, Amen. How apt am I to love! yet now observe Unkindness in my care, and bitterness In Physic. I study how to make thee less That I may make thee more and more my own. Office and Dignity are Enemies To health, and ease. Respect grows tedious Observance troublesome, where ti's most endue. He that gives his Soul no more employment Then what's her own: may sleep within a Drum. While busy Hearts, that love to undertake Beyond their reach of years: are feign to use Drowsy potions: yet watch the Winter night With more distinction then the Parish Clock. Couldst thou resign thy titles and thy cares To make me yet more capable of still Enjoying thee? Remorse does cherish danger! Let me be safe, Sec re me in thy wholesome Art. I would Express my self without a Tongue—