ALTAMONT

My Dear Meruolle she is lost: As well may I Collect the scattered winds into a bag, Or from the watery surface scrape the gilded Reflections of the Sun, as bring her heart Within the quiet list of wives that will Obey and love. Him, and his supreme title she still To justify the glory of her birth, And then recites the Villages and wealth, She brought to me for dowry, in parallel With what I formerly possessed, she does Affront my memory with stories of My lean and niggard fate, and urging then Her vast supplies, doth challenge leave to call Her pride and rigour joust. The heart hangs heavy on The strings, when it alone contains the cause And knowledge of its weight: for troubled winds In their dispersion lose their strength; so griefs, While th'are revealed, diminish from themselves. But the calamities, that do perplex The Nuptial bed, are of a property Recluse, and must be hidden even from friends: For on such secrets Fame doth feed with fierce, And meager appetite and as swift Fame Doth travail with them, they increase. So much Commerce I have with humane Arts, that I Can steep my Gall in my own tears; and make That salt which she intended bitter; Show Her crime to spring, not from poisoned malice, But from the feminine mistakes of wit: For modern Courts now preach, wit doth reside In Ladies subtle riots, and their pride. Thy growth Hath so orereach'd my sighed, that I'm estranged To my best blood: and but, thy figure in My heart I wear (by which my memory's Informed) I should not know I had thee here— Gentlemen, you shall enrich my knowledge— Brother (how ere wise fate may answer it) Me thinks, these your own robes are not o'th right Tyrian die; nor hath the rich weight of your Tall Plume the Estridge robbed of both her wings. Florello, I have lost my sleep. Things differ much from the sincerity Of their first growth: Alteza hath forgotten Th'allegiance of a wife, she does practice How with her riot to impoverish States, And by her lofty pride, to justify The immortality of flesh: This Theme Is sad; but I will give you cause t'expect The utmost strength and power of my relief. If you a while obscure your self (for fear Your poverty increase her scorn) you shall Perform a rational request. Our young Fair Sister, is concealed for the same cause. She does enjoy Rare beauty, and much health. What is the cause my Princess thus delight In frowns? Anger sits on her brow Like age. Yet urge the cause (my Love) why your Defiance is so violent and loud? I would survey a list of all your wants, That I may so have power to hasten the Redress: Do you dislike your properties Of house, your Vestments, or service of your Table; Give but a name unto thy wish? Oh, and your garden walls raised high, t'hedge in Paraquetos, and th'rhetoricall Daw? Come Love, Be gentle as thy bridal smiles: for by Thy self I swear, my speech did purpose nought To tempt thy spleen. Lend me thy melting hand! You spirits that secure the property Of humane love, be still official here! Why should we not for ever thus remain, Incorporate, and conjoined. 'Tis sympathy, And love, that gives the world continuance And life. Each species Love preserves. 'Tis love That makes th'eternall Wisdom thus forbear The silly crimes of dull humanity: And suffers us, Like each delighted fly, To play the trivial wantons in his eye. This argues thy revolt! And is a stratagem against nature. Thou wouldst usurp the Charter of the male, 'Tis my confession, that thy dowry was vast And opulent, and such as may support Thy titles, and thy birth, with all the pride And cunning of magnificence. Let my Sincere phrase instruct thy heart. Reassume The blushes of thy youth; with timorous Modesty behave thy gesture and thy tongue, And then, thou shalt stand up exemplary To all triumphant Courts: the envy of The Eastern Queens: th'Astrologers mistake, Who shall direct their Optics unto thee, As to a new and unknown Star. The small Musicians of the air (whom Queen With mimic falconry do perch upon Their fists) shall be thy food. Thy maids shall eat Young Pelicanes, and Squirrels hearts. Thy beuiridge shall be prophetic, and Divine; for thou shalt drink that sovereign Due, That hangs upon the frighted Lilies cheek, And brewed with Sire's tears, such as they shed In real obsequies. The soft entrail o'th Persian worm, th'Ermines Palefur, shall cloth thy limbs. Those gums and spices which the Arabian bird, Collects to make her tragic piles, shall be Thy winter fuel The miracle, and power, do both consist, In my large wealth. I, my sweet Love. This iteration Scarce will delight, if it be negative. Did you not then intend, when you endowed Me with your wealth, that I should call it mine? Th'art more impudent, then the Basilisk, Who stares i'th blessed face of man, until He kill him with his eyes. Is this the help, Divinity gave man? Snuff the Moon, she burns dim. The Spheres are now Ill tuned, and aged nature backward reels. Rebellious fiend. I must pursue, lest she her anger make Too loud, so we invite the public scorn. Florello, I desire thou'lt not appear Before her eye, until thy habit's changed. My present power sums but a thousand crowns, Which I have brought, and prostrate to thy use— My Art betrays my Hope's, or I have found A remedy to cure her pride: your help Meruolle, I must crave, and with swift speed: I Have received a mandate from the Duke, That will (I fear) increase her insolence. Like and old Tyrant he bestows his threats; As if his anger did obey his will, Not justice, nor the Laws. All is discovered to Her ear: the news hath taught her boil her heart In her own blood. She now weeps vinegar; Boasts of revenge, as if the Thunder were Her own. Her knowledge is already satisfied. Alteza's threats shall only move her scorn. Oh, you! that call your sins your duty, that Obey your Ladies riots out o'zeale!— Her honours spittle you preserve As a Restorative for your salt itch You third in Bracelets too, The Pearls that drop from her authentic nose. To cleave you from the scalp Unto the twist: to make nine skittles of Your bo es, and wind your heratstrings about my thumb— Coward! Creep strait into my Hourglass then, and there Eternally distinguish fatal time— Enter Alteza. D'ye bristle Porcupine?— Hell cannot miss thee long! Retire! She clips the gray and shivered wings of Time to make him slow; that our embraces Like Succeeding minutes then, may add unto Their length. Let me engender on thy lips— A meek and gentle heat, while thus we bill We imitate the sober lust of Doves— Take back thy wealth again! — Thy Lips are thin and lank ( Alteza ) as The Lids that close thine Eyes. Hers gently swell Like Eastern fruit, and are more soft then is The fleecy Air that clothes the Infant Morn. I'll make my anger equal unto thine, And my revenge above them both. This bright Auspicious Maid shall govern in my bed. She is my Concubine: the Off spring of Her womb shall triumph here, maugre thy sighed: While envy does consume thy flesh until Thy body lighter grow then thy lose mind. Meruolle, go! my Mistress guide unto Those lodgings that oreuiew the Garden mount. Thou art to every sense I have, a Spell. Conduct her strait (Meruolle) to some Throne! Accuse thy pride! Go, thou art as light as feathers, or the Air, were but and Attome individual placed With thee in balance even, would hoist thee up To th'Cloudes. Alteza, both in penitential tears Thy leprous heart, or when the Elements Are mixed and the sad day arrives, that dooms The world unto eternity of joy, Or pain, thou shalt (Like to a glimmering Lamp) Be hung upon the sooty walls of Hell. No? More wrath! Who art thou? To what? Bold slave! be in thy speech more evident. Thy tongue I do neglect: but you (sir) shall Ere long complain of your mortality: The minutes you must waste on Earth are few. If there be Gall in Heaven, the general Bag Is opened, and it falls in Showers! Pray (sir) let's interchange A little breath: withal (if you consent) We'll put our Swords to a more quiet use— My true opinion sir concerning you. I know you do but countrfeit this lust, This lawless heat. You purpose not t'abuse the Charter of my Bed, I read it in your noble feature and Your looks. You have Religion in your shape. And can it be, you should so soon commit a crime So much unwholesome to the Angels sighed? Let me now make a forfeiture of Eyes, If ever I beheld a man that's more obliged To Nature for his Limbs: A carnal frame So full of equal strength I never saw. Do not belie thy own True merits and comport! Th'adulterate fire Did never inflame thy sober heart, I know Thou scornest to do't. Pestilence! and blood! This is the truth, therefore consider now my Fate. Hah! Sciolto! 'Tis Sciolto, the bruit Adulterer, He whom I lately mentioned in my speech. A slave more salt then is the Balticke beware, More hight then hell, a Satire or a Goat. Though thou Wertenberg hardy as the Lions raze; And armed with all artillery on Earth, I durst assault thee as I am; but so I cannot satisfy Revenge. Oh Alteza, had but my name been hid Beneath some fold in the voluminous Dark book of Fate, I might have missed of my Creation then, so I should never have seen Thy face. A Salamander that does feed and cloth It self with flame, was thy Progenitor. I'll strew upon thy food the teeth of Snakes, I'll shoot Thy heart with needles, small as splinters of A hair that thou mayest die, and yet not know That thou art killed. Africa breeds no monster Like to thee. It is a cunning, and promiscuous slave. This story of Alteza's abstinence, He does but counterfeit, to gull my sighed. Thy faith was jealous, I seduced thy ear To share untruths: but now, thou knowest too much. Now work my injured spirits, till you make Dull sorrow rise in nimble flame. Anger, Is blood, pow'rd, and perplexed into a froth, But Malice is, the wisdom of our wrath. Exeunt. Hah, Scoperta ! Libid'nous Girl, what makes She with that Horse? No, let'em Knit and generate; my words Shall never penetrate her Ear until I am revenged for what my Eyes have seen. She is proscribed, I've filled her in the List With those that taste to Night a bitter fate. Away, away. This object ruins all My faculties. Exeunt from above. What may this forced humility portend? The Fiends are surely married too; for there's No torment Like a Wife! false Alteza. So soon, dost steep him in thy gall, whom thou Hast washt'i'th warm distilments of thy heart. Thy perjured attestations cease; for though The hours are few, since first you did confer, Yet you had both the pregnant thrift, to make The time advantageous to sin. Keep thy denial between thy blisterd lips. I vtterd' thou art dead. Oft have I said Let's leave the false, the busy world and sleep Beneath our vines; Nature (not cunning) then, Augments our wealth; the Due of heaven is cheap, Nor needs we pay for'th Suns warm light, If kind Divinity allow t'each humane soul A star; our issue w'ele increase, until The bright and numerous throng be all employed. Witness you silent powers, the crime is not Derived from me. T'explaine my innocence, Know, she that here I housd, t'affront thy pride, Was my chaste sister, not my Concubine. But; she treads the slimy path. Scoperta, Is now thy R vall in Sciolto's lust. Although thy penitence be rash, it does Become thee well, and thou hast qui e dissolved The stony corners of my heart. This night I purposed thee a cruel death, but now Rise, and continue mortal still—I'll lay My mercy on thy Lip, and for it take My last farewell—. I'll never see thee more. Oh no! my jealousy is grown so sick, that my Suspect informs me, it will never be cured. Oh trivial property of life! Some do attend the mighty war, and make Divinity their yoke; till for the sport Of Kings th'augment the number of the dead. Some walk in slippery paths of Court, and feed On silent smiles; the gravity of mirth. Some travail in the search of humane Arts, But knowledge is reserved: She sits so high In Clouds, we cannot reach her with our Eye: Or if with patient steps we to her climb, Death says we cannot reach her with our time. For withered age arrives, when numbering on Our griefs not years; the tedious space of life We strait accuse. For life is Like the span Forced from a gouty hand; which, as it gains Extent, and active length, the more it pains. Exit. Are my bold Instruments in ambush laid, And scattered for the best advantage of Their concealed Actium, and their view? Expect me then beneath the Garden Mount. The Stars Like scattered embers fallen. The Tears Of men do meet in Seas, and Seas orewhelme The Earth. Amazed Heards howl to the Sun For help; whose Beams suck moisture up, till he Hath made the flood his draught; but vomits all In Showers again; such as Deucalion saw! Behold my Coral hands, they seem to blush With gilded of humane sacrifice. Me thinks I look Like to a Memphian Priest, that had Dissection made of Hecatombs t'appease Their false Divinity. Alteza's dead. Thou dost misspend thy vestal charity. I'th solitary age of Night I come, To find those Angels that have business now On Earth, in Synod here with thee: hoping I shall receive reward for my joust Act. Before the hindmost partly of her vexed Soul Forsook her thrilling Lips, she did confess, Sciolto had performed all circumstance That does engender Man. Sciolto too, Confirmed her attestation as a truth. He did, which I, Over heard, and forced a passage to his Heart. From its warm Throne, I snatched the aching Lump, And threw it straight unto a hungry Fiend. Dost weep for him? This obsequy, does make Compassion sin. Stint thy hoarse Dirge, pernicious Whore. I had Some hope, the interview that you enjoyed Might be enforced by his unruly strength: But now, I find it was with thy consent Procured. Y'haue struggled in each others lust. All now is evident as light. Though dull, to Men of harsh, strict discipline, Yet know, I have some cunning in my rage. I came to fright this secret from thy Heart: M Hands I did not both in humane blood, Alteza, and Sciolto are alive. Alteza mourns, as if expiate A Nation with her grief. Hadst thou revealed Such penitence, it might have softened my Decree. But thou art sour and stern of Soul. M Mother when she lay, a cold pattern for The figure on her Tomb, spent her last breath In praise of thee. Quoth she; For my sake use Thy Sister well: th'acqaintance that she hath In Heaven is great. I'th blossom of her growth She shall overcome the Eyes of men, and in Her Age, she shall have skill in Prophecy. But Oh false lore! Our Mother kind, (whom I A Sibyl held) thou now hast proved a Witch. Go pray, the Hours are swift: I've purposed thee a prisoner here till my Return. — This is a sickly Rhume and not Compunction in my Eyes. — Nature do thou direct my spleen. The Laws Are sinfully contrived. Justice should weigh The present crime, not future inforence On Deeds. But now they cheapen blood: it's spilled To punish the example, not the gilded. Religion too, on our Italian Earth, Grows Like the Cedar big and high; but yields No fruit. The abject raze of men she does Confound with hope, and bids them not obey, Augment humility, but her own sway. Exit. Her Soul is ill prepared Remain within the summons of my call: And leave me here. I charge thee by thy Vow, And our friendships deer use, that thou depart. Some call me Altamont. I've seen thee walk armed Like a Magazin With small Artillery entrenched: but thou Art fitly now prepared for sufferance. Sciolto, though, thou merit treachery And opposition that, by darkest stealth, of thy luxurious soul, Yet I will give thee fair and equal Game. Stay. This I will perform And it's to know the rigour of thy might, What wondrous flame and spirits do possess Thy spacious Breast. I'd learn the providence and justice of My Fate; try if they'll let me fallen before Encounter of thy bestial strength; thou that Augments't thy sins t'orecome the memory Of Heaven: in silly hope, th'accompts may be Unwillingly surua ed, because th'are long. Receive thy Sword. — If while we struggle in the pride of hope Thou canst so weaken my defence, that I Become disarmed; thy liberty is gained. You then would cousin me of my revenge? — Arcadian wrestler told Young Theseus so; but he did yield as if His sinews had been made of silk. So fierce?— Thus I will boar thy flesh, till thou become Transparent as a Sieve— Even thus divided Billows partly, that they May meet in greater foam— Thy guillt betrai's thy hand unto mistakes, And thus my injured Spirits greet thy life— Oh the Celestial powers are joust. See there, He bleeds Like to a Spring, that borders on The Rubicke Sea, while I remain untouched. That thou mightest leisure have to pray. Be sure ( Meruolle. ) when's devotions have arrived Unto a powerful length; you strangle him. Unto resistance equal, I exposed My strength, to try thy courage and my fate. This was my justi e to my self: ustice I'll give to thee: Thy crimes do merit death. Thou art disarmed, Thy blooming honours now are withered on Thy Crest. I should deprive my Anger of Her fame, to be thy active opposite. Let Italy avowch the joust demean Of my revenge. Dull Britons know no wrath. Th'vnskillfull youth, that equal Duel give To him that first incensd the blood; but tempt The courtesy of Fate, such take delight To stroke abuse, pay Injuries, with right. A sudden frost congeals my Heart; I shrink Like crooked Age; I am unwieldy on My joints, as if my veins were empty grown.— Wounded. His point has stollne into my Breast. O help. I've yet some use for life. Th'nice search, I made to know Heavens secret justice is Avenged. (Bold Earth!) I weep into the Sea, And sighs augment the winds. Repentance is And immaterial Salve, it cures th'vnsound Diseased Soul, but not the Bodies wound. Away you dreadful Ministers of death. The Laurel Sprig, the Myrtle nicely wreathed In Coronets, my Love deserves; for she Is grown too good for Earth. — Put all thy beauty's on again, and smile At the return of our long absent love: My wound is closed, and will hau instant cure — Rise gently Like a flame, from incense sprung. Meruolle, to appease my jealousy Ordained me this disguises that I might hear How in your S ntence you behaved your love To me: Hadst thou continued false, I had Increased the anger of thy fate: but now Thou art endeared unto my heart again. — Scoperta, thou'lt excuse the carriage of My doubts, I looked on thee with eyes of love, And love is still too strict in her survey. — Take her, and be as tender of her health, As Heaven hath over thy wounds; which in their cure Express much miracle. — My io is so swell My breast, that I do find there's danger in Delight. How blessed Meruolle are thy Arts? Tell me Charintha, is thy love sincere: Such as i'th simple youth of Nature is Exchanged by lovers with a harmless plighted? It was Meruolle's care thus to assure Thy Mistress real love, and constancy Ere thou shouldst give too much of thine away. But now receive her from Alteza's hand. — Joy, joy! The firmament is now unmasked, and each Of us, hath found his star. What are these, walking Drums? You and your friends, move back, and be not seen. Thou shalt have Marmasets, and Dwarfs, the male And female too, to procreate in thy house; That thy delights may ever be renewed. Thy Jewels shall increase, as if the loved Indies were thy Quarry. Almighty Sun Shall rise, and see a nobler day break from Thy Cabinet, then yet the illustrious East Ere knew. Some Philosophic hope remains: the storm Can't last, because it's still more violent. Sh'ath taken Caroch for the Palace, and means Strait to disgrace me to the Duke By her complaints. Oh my cold Blood! My patience will be wrought So low, that I shall learn t'mike a Heifer. If this prove true, let Babes piss out my Eyes— You swelling mountains (that oreuiew the Earth) Fallen now, make me eternally unseen! Philosophy contract thy meek sage brow: Let Patience be no more thy Saint. As soon Give medicines to the dead, teach statues how To walk, and angry winds to sleep i'th North. As soon bid empty Lions play with Kids; And to the shaggy Scythian say, Go weep As Virgins do, when they their Loves inter: The blind and shuffled Elements that first In Chaos strove, were not so opposite As this Religious frost unto my heat. Patience, thou art more found then teeming wives, Tamer then sseepe! Divinity which calls Our anger sin, and courage pride, hath sent This silly Cherubine on Earth, Patience, (The Cowards sword) which only does disarm Dull sleep, that neither can nor would do harm. Exit. Devils and death, I'm murdered through the Ear— Hah! wilt thou? Oh my quickened heart (entombed Before within my breast) wilt thou? This, this Then is the direful night, wherein I'll give A strict and cruel justice to Revenge. It's Alteza, I know her sinful voice,— ( She kneels. ) Dost weep? I sooner thought to-have seen the Flin Supple as Sponge; th'obdurate Diamond melt At the Glowworms pale eye. Thou Wertenberg a Virgin sweet, so precious in Thy frame, that with the cordage of thy hair Thou mightest have fettered Kings. Thy voice has marred The beauty's of the night. When thou didst sing The quiet stars, would fallen asleep and wink. Thou art all discord now: thy glory's dark; Thy thin, and Rosiall blood, I turned to Ink. Two neighbouring Lilies whom rude winds disperse amongst restless dust, may sooner meet upon Their stalks again, and kiss each other in A second growth, then we our loves renew. Father's that feed on Sons, and Sons that drink Their mother's blood, reach not that cruelty Which her stern gilded did throw into my Breast. Sink into earth, where sorrow dwells. Ere yond— Dim Morn shall add one Hour unto her Age, Scioltos Soul shall take a doubtful flight: It only stayed to mingle company With thine. My anger was so joust, I Would Not prosecute thy life; until my doubts Were cleared. Go, go, and number over thy Beads. The moon hath now put on her brightest Robe; My anger too, does carry fire enough To light us to the charge Guard well thy Heart. — Mark (sweet Heaven) with what exalted triumph He boasts the fowl remembrance of his sin.— Thy Sword's my Captive now. Meruolle, hoa! Stop all his wounds, and give him time to spend The rest of's moisture in repentant Tears— Come swear, swear now (on this victorious sword) Thou wilt obey th'iniunctions of my wrath, And yet in personal act, not move, but when My will appoints a mixture of thy strength. Still thou dost mourn ( Alteza ) Like a Dove. Soft music Hark, hark how the Roman-Organ seems Invoke the Thracian Lire; the Cymbals of Judea, call Castilian -Cornets forth, And Germane -Viols wake the Tuscan Lute The sacred noise attend, that while we hear, Our souls may dance into each others ear. So hight is thy lascivious blood, that as I sprinkle it, it scalds my hands—