[ExitAntonio.
Pier.Alberto, I am kind; Alberto, kind.230I am sorry for thy coz, i’faith I am.Go, take him down, and bear him to his father.Let him be buried; look ye, I’ll pay the priest.
Alb.Please you to admit his father to the court?
Pier.No.
Alb.Please you to restore his lands and goods again?
Pier.No.
Alb.Please you vouchsafe him lodging in the city?
Pier.God’s fut, no, thou odd uncivil fellow!I think you do forget, sir, where you are.240
Alb.I know you do forget, sir, where you must be.
Foro.You are too malapert, i’faith you are.Your honour might do well to——
Alb.Peace, parasite; thou bur, that only sticksUnto the nap of greatness.
Pier.Away with that same yelping cur—away!
Alb.I—I am gone; but mark, Piero, this.There is a thing call’d scourgingNemesis.[304]
[ExitAlberto.
Bal.God’s neaks, he has wrong, that he has: and s’fut, and I were as he, I would bear no coals.[305]Law, I, I begin to swell—puff.251
Pier.How now, fool, fop, fool!
Bal.[306]Fool, fop, fool! Marry muffe![307]I pray you, how many fools have you seen go in a suit of satin? I hope, yet, I do not look a fool i’faith! a fool! God’s bores, I scorn’t with my heel. ’S neaks, and I were worth but three hundred pound a year more, I could swear richly; nay, but as poor as I am, I will swear the fellow hath wrong.
Pier.Young Galeatzo! Ay, a proper man;260Florence, a goodly city: it shall be so,I’ll marry her to him instantly.Then Genoa mine, by my Maria’s match,Which I’ll solemnise ere next setting sun:Thus Venice, Florence, Genoa, strongly leagued.Excellent, excellent! I’ll conquer Rome,Pop out the light of bright religion;And then, helter skelter, all cock-sure.
Bal.Go to, ’tis just, the man hath wrong: go to.
Pier.Go to, thou shall have right. Go to, Castilio,Clap him into the palace dungeon;271Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slimeThat smears the dungeon’ cheek. Away with him.
Bal.In very good truth, now, I’ll ne’er do so more; this one time and——
Pier.Away with him—observe it strictly—go!
Bal.Why then, O wight!Alas, poor knight!O, welladay,Sir Jefferay!280Let poets roar,And all deplore;For now I bid you good-night.
ExitBalurdowithCastilio.
Re-enterMaria.
Mar.O piteous end of love! O too, too rude handOf unrespective death! Alas, sweet maid!
Pier.Forbear me, Heaven. What intend these plaints?
Mar.The beauty of admired creation,The life of modest unmix’d purity,Our sex’s glory, Mellida is——
Pier.What, O Heaven, what!
Mar.Dead!290
Pier.May it not sad your thoughts, how?
Mar.Being laid upon her bed, she grasp’d my hand,And kissing it, spake thus: “Thou very poor,Why dost not weep? The jewel of thy brow,The rich adornment that enchased thy breast,Is lost: thy son, my love, is lost, is dead.And do I live to say Antonio’s dead?And have I lived to see his virtues blurr’dWith guiltless blots? O world, thou art too subtleFor honest natures to converse withal,300Therefore I’ll leave thee; farewell, mart of woe,I fly to clip my love, Antonio!”With that her head sunk down upon her breast;Her cheek changed earth, her senses slept in rest,Until my fool, that press’d unto the bed,Screech’d out so loud that he brought back her soul,Call’d her again, that her bright eyes gan ope,And stared upon him. He, audacious fool,Dared kiss her hand, wish’d her “soft rest, loved bride;”She fumbled out, “thanks, good;” and so she died.310
Pier.And so she died! I do not use to weep;But by thy love (out of whose fertile sweetI hope for as fair fruit) I am deep sad.—I will not stay my marriage for all this.—Castilio, Forobosco, all,Strain all your wits, wind up inventionUnto his highest bent, to sweet this night;Make us drink Lethe by your quaint conceits,That for two days oblivion smother grief.But when my daughter’s exequies approach,320Let’s all turn sighers. Come, despite of fate,Sound loudest music, let’s pace out in state!
[The cornets sound.—Exeunt.
[285]“Bable” was the old form of “bauble.”[286]“Wisards” = wise men. In theOde on the NativityMilton styles the wise men from the Eastwisards:—“The star-ledwisardshasten with odours sweet.”[287]Nobles.[288]I.e., there has been no question asked about him.[289]Affections.[290]Oldeds.“by.”[291]Old form ofdigest.[292]Oldeds.“Come hither (ficto).” The bracketed word is, I suppose, a direction to the actor; Piero is to talk in an affected voice to Antonio,—treat him as a simpleton.[293]Nobles.[294]“The wordsiddowis of very unusual occurrence in early English, but it is preserved in the provincial dialect of the West of England. In Gloucestershire peas which become pulpy soft by boiling are then said to besiddow.”—Halliwell.[295]Large galleon.[296]“Unnooktsimplicity” (if the reading is right) must mean “simplicity in which no guile is hidden.”[297]A mangled quotation fromÆn.ix.427-8.[298]The “threefold guard of dreadest power” is, I suppose, “tergemina Hecate.”Cf.p.176“By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate.”[299]High-peaked.—Nol= head, top.[300]Full ofknurs,i.e.knotted, gnarled.[301]Dashed violently.—We have had the word before (p.11) used transitively; but it is also used intransitively, as in Drayton’sBallad of Agincourt:—“This while our noble king,His broadsword brandishing.Down the French host diddingAs to o’erwhelm it.” (Text ofed.1619.)[302]I.e.alas, that his fortunes should be,&c.[303]Cote (another form ofquote) = mark, note.[304]So Hieronymo inThe Spanish Tragedy:—“Well heaven is heaven still!And there is Nemesis and furies,And things call’d whips.”[305]“Bear coals” = put up with injuries.[306]Not marked ined.1602.[307]“Marry muffe”—a common expression of contempt.—Middleton,i.42, 71,&c.]
[285]“Bable” was the old form of “bauble.”
[286]“Wisards” = wise men. In theOde on the NativityMilton styles the wise men from the Eastwisards:—
“The star-ledwisardshasten with odours sweet.”
[287]Nobles.
[288]I.e., there has been no question asked about him.
[289]Affections.
[290]Oldeds.“by.”
[291]Old form ofdigest.
[292]Oldeds.“Come hither (ficto).” The bracketed word is, I suppose, a direction to the actor; Piero is to talk in an affected voice to Antonio,—treat him as a simpleton.
[293]Nobles.
[294]“The wordsiddowis of very unusual occurrence in early English, but it is preserved in the provincial dialect of the West of England. In Gloucestershire peas which become pulpy soft by boiling are then said to besiddow.”—Halliwell.
[295]Large galleon.
[296]“Unnooktsimplicity” (if the reading is right) must mean “simplicity in which no guile is hidden.”
[297]A mangled quotation fromÆn.ix.427-8.
[298]The “threefold guard of dreadest power” is, I suppose, “tergemina Hecate.”Cf.p.176“By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate.”
[299]High-peaked.—Nol= head, top.
[300]Full ofknurs,i.e.knotted, gnarled.
[301]Dashed violently.—We have had the word before (p.11) used transitively; but it is also used intransitively, as in Drayton’sBallad of Agincourt:—
“This while our noble king,His broadsword brandishing.Down the French host diddingAs to o’erwhelm it.” (Text ofed.1619.)
[302]I.e.alas, that his fortunes should be,&c.
[303]Cote (another form ofquote) = mark, note.
[304]So Hieronymo inThe Spanish Tragedy:—
“Well heaven is heaven still!And there is Nemesis and furies,And things call’d whips.”
[305]“Bear coals” = put up with injuries.
[306]Not marked ined.1602.
[307]“Marry muffe”—a common expression of contempt.—Middleton,i.42, 71,&c.]
SCENEII.
EnterAntoniosolus, in fool’s habit.
Ant.Ay, heaven, thou may’st, thou may’st, omnipotence.What vermin bred of putrefacted slimeShall dare to expostulate with thy decrees!O heaven, thou may’st indeed: she was all thine,All heavenly: I did but humbly begTo borrow her of thee a little time.Thou gavest her me, as some weak-breasted dameGiveth her infant, puts it out to nurse;And when it once goes high-lone,[308]takes it back.She was my vital blood, and yet, and yet,10I’ll not blaspheme. Look here! behold!
[Antonioputs off his cap and lieth just upon his back.
I turn my prostrate breast upon thy face,And vent a heaving sigh. O hear but this!I am a poor, poor orphant—a weak, weak child,—The wrack of splitted fortune, the very ooze,The quicksand that devours all misery.Behold the valiant’st creature that doth breathe!For all this I dare live, and I will live,Only to numb some other’s cursèd bloodWith the dead palsy of like misery.20Then, death, like to a stifling incubus,[309]Lie on my bosom.Lo, see,[310]I am sped.My breast is Golgotha, grave for the dead.
EnterPandulpho,Alberto,and a Page, carryingFeliche’strunk in a winding sheet, and lay it thwartAntonio’sbreast.
Pan.Antonio, kiss my foot: I honour thee,In laying thwart my blood upon thy breast.I tell thee, boy, he was Pandulpho’s son;And I do grace thee with supporting him.Young man,He[311]who hath naught that fortune’s gripe can seize,The domineering monarch of the earth;30He who is all impregnably his own,He whose great heart heaven cannot force with force,Vouchsafes his love.Non servio Deo, sed assentio.
Ant.I ha’ lost a good wife.
Pan.Didst find her good, or didst thou make her good?If found, thou may’st refind, because thou hadst her;If made, the work is lost, but thou that madest herLivest yet as cunning. Hast lost a good wife?Thrice-blessèd man that lost her whilst she was good,Fair, young, unblemish’d, constant, loving, chaste.40I tell thee, youth, age knows, young loves seem graced,Which with gray cares, rude jars, are oft defaced.
Ant.But she was full of hope.
Pan.May be, may be; but that whichmay bestood,Stands now without allmay. She dièd good,And dost thou grieve?
Alb.I ha’ lost a true friend.
Pan.I live encompass’d with two blessèd souls.Thou lost a good wife, thou lost a true friend, ha!Two of the rarest lendings of the heavens,—But lendings which, at the fix’d day of pay50Set down by fate, thou must restore again.[312]O what unconscionable souls are here!Are you all like the spoke-shaves of the church?Have you no maw to restitution?Hast lost a true friend, coz? then thou hadst one.I tell thee, youth, ’tis all as difficultTo find true friend in this apostate age(That balks all right affiance ’twixt two hearts)As ’tis to find a fixèd modest heartUnder a painted breast. Lost a true friend!60O happy soul that lost him whilst he was true!Believe it, coz, I to my tears have found,Oft dirt’s respect makes firmer friends unsound.
Alb.You have lost a good son.
Pan.Why, there’s the comfort on’t, that he was good.Alas, poor innocent!
Alb.Why weeps mine uncle?
Pan.Ha, dost ask me why? ha, ha!Good coz, look here!
[He shows him his son’s breast.
Man will break out, despite philosophy.Why, all this while I ha’ but played a part,70Like to some boy that acts a tragedy,Speaks burly words, and raves out passion;But, when he thinks upon his infant weakness,He droops his eye. I spake more than a god,Yet am less than a man.I am the miserablest soul that breathes.
[Antoniostarts up.
Ant.’Slid, sir, ye lie! by the heart of grief, thou liest!I scorn’d that any wretched should survive,Outmounting me in that superlative,Most miserable, most unmatch’d in woe.80Who dare assume that but Antonio?
Pan.Wilt still be so, and shall yon blood-hound live?
Ant.Have I an arm, a heart, a sword, a soul?
Alb.Were you but private unto what we know——
Pan.I’ll know it all; first let’s inter the dead.Let’s dig his grave with that shall dig the heart,Liver, and entrails of the murderer.
[They strike the stage with their daggers, and the grave openeth.
Ant.Wilt sing a dirge, boy?
Pan.No, no song; ’twill be vile out of tune.
Alb.Indeed, he’s hoarse; the poor boy’s voice is crack’d.90
Pan.Why, coz! why should it not be hoarse and crack’d,When all the strings of nature’s symphonyAre crack’d and jar? Why should his voice keep tune,When there’s no music in the breast of man?I’ll say an honest antic rhyme I have:Help me, good sorrow-mates, to give him grave.
[They all help to carryFelicheto his grave.
Death, exile, plaints, and woe,Are but man’s lackeys, not his foe.No mortal ’scapes from fortune’s warWithout a wound, at least a scar.100Many have led thee[313]to the grave;But all shall follow, none shall save.Blood of my youth, rot and consume;Virtue in dirt doth life assume.With this old saw close up this dust:—Thrice blessèd man that dieth just.
Ant.The gloomy wing of night begins to stretchHis lazy pinion o’er the air.We must be stiff and steady in resolve;Let’s thus our hands, our hearts, our arms involve.110
[They wreath their arms.
Pan.Now swear we by this Gordian knot of love,By the fresh-turned up mould that wraps my son,By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate,Ere night shall close the lids of yon bright stars,We’ll sit as heavy on Piero’s heart,As Ætna doth on groaning Pelorus.
Ant.Thanks, good old man; we’ll cast at royal chance.Let’s think a plot—then pell-mell, vengeance!
[Exeunt, their arms wreathed.
[308]Quite alone.—See note on Middleton,i.46.[309]Seenote 1,p.107.[310]Oldeds.“sir.”[311]In oldeds. ll.29-30 are transposed, and the passage is rendered unintelligible. “The domineering monarch” is of course fortune.[312]Seneca moralises in the same strain:—“Rerum natura illum tibi non mancipio dedit sed commodavit: cum visum est deinde, repetiit nec tuam in eo satietatem secuta est, sed suam legem. Si quis pecuniam creditam solvisse se moleste ferat, eam præsertim cujus usum gratuitum acceperit, nonne injustus vir habeatur?” (Ad Polybium de Consolatione.)[313]Olded.“these.”
[308]Quite alone.—See note on Middleton,i.46.
[309]Seenote 1,p.107.
[310]Oldeds.“sir.”
[311]In oldeds. ll.29-30 are transposed, and the passage is rendered unintelligible. “The domineering monarch” is of course fortune.
[312]Seneca moralises in the same strain:—“Rerum natura illum tibi non mancipio dedit sed commodavit: cum visum est deinde, repetiit nec tuam in eo satietatem secuta est, sed suam legem. Si quis pecuniam creditam solvisse se moleste ferat, eam præsertim cujus usum gratuitum acceperit, nonne injustus vir habeatur?” (Ad Polybium de Consolatione.)
[313]Olded.“these.”
SCENEI.
The cornets sound for the Act.
The dumb show.
Enter at one doorCastilioandForobosco,with halberts; four Pages with torches;Lucio,bare;Piero,Maria,andAlberto,talking;Albertodraws out his dagger,Mariaher knife, aiming to menace the Duke. ThenGaleatzo,betwixt two Senators, reading a paper to them, at which they all make semblance of loathingPiero,and knit their fists at him; two Ladies andNutriche.All these go softly over the stage, whilst at the other door enters the ghost ofAndrugio,who passeth by them, tossing his torch about his head in triumph. All forsake the stage, savingAndrugio,who, speaking, begins the Act.
Ghost ofAnd.Venit dies, tempusque, quo reddat suisAnimam squalentem sceleribus.The[314]fist of strenuous vengeance is clutch’d,And stern Vindicta tow’reth up aloft,That she may fall with a more weighty paise,And crush life’s sap from out Piero’s veins.Now ’gins the leprous cores of ulcered sinsWheel to a head; now is his fate grown mellow,Instant to fall into the rotten jawsOf chap-fall’n death. Now down looks Providence,10T’attend the last act of my son’s revenge.Be gracious, observation, to our scene,For now the plot unites his scatter’d limbsClose in contracted bands. The Florence Prince(Drawn by firm notice of the Duke’s black deeds)Is made a partner in conspiracy.The states of Venice are so swoll’n in hateAgainst the Duke for his accursèd deeds(Of which they are confirm’d by some odd lettersFound in dead Strotzo’s study, which had past20Betwixt Piero and the murd’ring slave)That they can scarce retain from bursting forthIn plain revolt. O, now triumphs my ghost,Exclaiming, Heaven’s just, for I shall seeThe scourge of murder and impiety!
[Exit.
[314]This line is ridiculed inThe Poetaster,v.1:—“Break his back,O poets all and some! for now we listOf strenuous vengeance to clutch the fist.”
[314]This line is ridiculed inThe Poetaster,v.1:—
“Break his back,O poets all and some! for now we listOf strenuous vengeance to clutch the fist.”
SCENEI.
Balurdofrom under the Stage.
Bal.Ho, who’s above there, ho? A murrain on all proverbs. They say hunger breaks through stone walls; but I am as gaunt as lean-ribb’d famine, yet I can burst through no stone walls. O now, Sir Jeffrey, show thy valour, break prison and be hang’d. Nor shall the darkest nook of hell contain the discontented Sir Balurdo’s ghost. Well, I am out well; I have put off the prison to put on the rope. O poor shotten herring, what a pickle art thou in! O hunger, how thou domineer’st in my guts! O for a fat leg of ewe mutton in stewed broth, or drunken song to feed on! I could belch rarely, for I am all wind. O cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! O poor knight! O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing like an unicorn before thou dost dip thy horn in the water of death. O cold, O sing, O cold, O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing, sing!16
[A song.
EnterAntonioandAlbertoat several doors, their rapiers drawn, in their masking attire.
Ant.Vindicta!
Alb.Mellida!
Ant.Alberto!
Alb.Antonio!
Ant.Hath the Duke supp’d?
Alb.Yes, and triumphant revels mount aloft.The Duke drinks deep to overflow his grief;The court is rack’d to pleasure; each man strainsTo feign a jocund eye. The Florentine——
Ant.Young Galeatzo!
Alb.Even he is mighty on our part. The states of Venice,—
EnterPandulpho,running, in masking attire.
Pan.Like high-swoll’n floods drive down the muddy damsOf pent allegiance. O, my lusty bloods,Heaven sits clapping of our enterprise.30I have been labouring general favour firm,And I do find the citizens grown sickWith swallowing the bloody cruditiesOf black Piero’s acts; they fain would castAnd vomit him from off their government.Now is the plot of mischief ript wide ope;Letters are found ’twixt Strotzo and the Duke,So clear apparent, yet more firmly strongBy suiting circumstance, that, as I walk’d,Muffled, to eavesdrop speech, I might observe40The graver statesmen whispering fearfully.Here one gives nods and hums what he would speak;The rumour’s got ’mong troop of citizens,Making loud murmur, with confusèd din;One shakes his head and sighs, “O ill-used power!”Another frets, and sets his grinding teeth,Foaming with rage, and swears this must not be;Here one complots, and on a sudden starts,And cries, O monstrous, O deep villainy!All knit their nerves, and from beneath swoll’n brows50Appears a gloating eye of much mislike;Whilst swart Piero’s lips reak steam of wine,Swallows lust-thoughts, devours all pleasing hopes,With strong imagination of—what not?O now Vindicta! that’s the word we have,A royal vengeance, or a royal grave!
Ant.Vindicta!
Bal.[From beneath the stage.] I am acold.
Pan.Who’s there? Sir Jeffrey?
Bal.A poor knight, god wot: the nose of thy knighthood is bitten off with cold. O poor Sir Jeffrey, cold, cold!62
Pan.What chance of fortune hath tripp’d up his heels, And laid him in the kennel, ha?
Alb.I will discourse it all. Poor honest soul,Hadst thou a beaver to clasp up thy face,Thou should’st associate us in masquery,And see revenge.
Bal.Nay, and you talk of revenge, my stomach’s up, for I am most tyrannically hungry. A beaver! I have a headpiece, a skull, a brain of proof, I warrant ye.71
Alb.Slink to my chamber then, and tire thee.
Bal.Is there a fire?
Alb.Yes.
Bal.Is there a fat leg of ewe mutton?
Alb.Yes.
Bal.And a clean shirt?
Alb.Yes.
Bal.Then am I for you, most pathetically, and unvulgarly, law!80
[Exit.
Ant.Resolved hearts, time curtails night, opportunity shakes us his foretop. Steel your thoughts, sharp your resolve, embolden your spirit, grasp your swords; alarum mischief, and with an undaunted brow, out scout the grim opposition of most menacing peril.Hark! here proud pomp shoots mounting triumph up,Borne in loud accents to the front of Jove.
Pan.O now, he that wants soul to kill a slave,Let him die slave, and rot in peasant’s grave.
Ant.Give me thy hand, and thine, most noble heart;Thus will we live, and, but thus, never part.91
[Exeunt, twined together.
Cornets sound a senet.
SCENEII.
A Banqueting-hall.
EnterCastilioandForobosco;two Pages, with torches;Lucio,bare;PieroandMaria,Galeatzo,two Senators, andNutriche.
Pier.Sit close unto my breast, heart of my love;Advance thy drooping eyes, thy son is drown’d.Rich happiness that such a son is drown’d!Thy husband’s dead: life of my joys most bless’d,In that the sapless log, that press’d thy bedWith an unpleasing weight, being lifted hence,Even I, Piero, live to warm his place.I tell you, lady, had you view’d us bothWith an unpartial eye, when first we wooedYour maiden beauties, I had borne the prize.10’Tis firm I had; for, fair, I ha’ done that——
Mar.[Aside.] Murder.
Pier.Which he would quake to have adventurèd;Thou know’st I have——
Mar.[Aside.] Murder’d my husband.
Pier.Borne out the shock of war, and done—what not,That valour durst? Dost love me, fairest? Say.
Mar.As I do hate my son, I love thy soul.
Pier.Why, then, Io[315]to Hymen, mount a lofty note!Fill[316]red-cheek’d Bacchus, let Lyæus float20In burnish’d goblets! Force the plump-lipp’d god.Skip light lavoltas[317]in your full-sapp’d veins!’Tis well, brim full. Even I have glut of blood:Let quaff carouse. I drink this Burdeaux wineUnto the health of dead Andrugio,Feliche, Strotzo, and Antonio’s ghosts.[Aside.] Would I had some poison to infuse it with;That having done this honour to the dead,I might send one to give them notice on’t:I would endear my favour to the full.—30Boy, sing aloud; make heaven’s vault to ringWith thy breath’s strength. I drink. Now loudly sing.
[A song. The song ended the cornets sound a senet.
EnterAntonio,Pandulpho,andAlberto,in maskery;Balurdo,and a Torchbearer.
Pier.Call Julio hither. Where’s the little soul?I saw him not to-day. Here’s sport aloneFor him, i’faith; for babes and fools, I know,Relish not substance, but applaud the show.
Gal.(To the conspirators as they stand in rank for the measure.[318]) All blessèd fortune crown your brave attempt.
[ToAntonio.
I have a troop to second your attempt.
[ToPandulpho.
The Venice states join hearts unto your hands.
[ToAlberto.
Pier.By the delights in contemplation40Of coming joys, ’tis magnificent.You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp.Sound still, loud music! O, your breath gives graceTo curious feet, that in proud measure pace.
Ant.[Aside toMaria.] Mother, is Julio’s body——
Mar.[Aside toAntonio.] Speak not, doubt not; all is above all hope.
Ant.[Aside.] Then will I dance and whirl about the air:Methinks I am all soul, all heart, all spirit.Now murder shall receive his ample merit.
The measure.
While the measure is dancing,Andrugio’sghost is placed betwixt the music-houses.[319]
Pier.Bring hither suckets, candied delicates.50We’ll taste some sweetmeats, gallants, ere we sleep.
Ant.—We’ll cook your sweetmeats, gallants, with tart sour sauce.
Ghost ofAnd.Here will I sit, spectator of revenge,And glad my ghost in anguish of my foe.
[The maskers whisper withPiero.
Pier.Marry and shall; i’faith I were too rude,If I gainsaid so civil fashion.—The maskers pray you to forbear the roomTill they have banqueted. Let it be so:No man presume to visit them, on death.
[The maskers whisper again.
Only my self? O, why, with all my heart;60
[Exeunt all butPieroand the maskers.
I’ll fill your consort. Here Piero sits;Come on, unmask, let’s fall to.
[The conspirators bindPiero,pluck out his tongue, and triumph over him.
Ant.Murder and torture! no prayers, no entreats!
Pan.We’ll spoil your oratory. Out with his tongue.
Ant.I have ’t, Pandulpho; the veins panting bleed,Trickling fresh gore about my fist. Bind fast—so, so!
Ghost ofAnd.Bless’d be thy hand! I taste the joys of heaven,Viewing my son triumph in his black blood.
Bal.Down to the dungeon with him! I’ll dungeon with him! I’ll fool you; Sir Jeffrey will be Sir Jeffrey; I’ll tickle you.71
Ant.Behold, black dog!
Pan.Grinn’st thou, thou snurling[320]cur?
Alb.Eat thy black liver.
Ant.To thine anguish seeA fool triumphant in thy misery.Vex him, Balurdo.
Pan.He weeps; now do I glorify my hands;I had no vengeance, if I had no tears.
Ant.Fall to, good Duke. O these are worthless cates,You have no stomach to them; look, look here:Here lies a dish to feast thy father’s gorge.80
[Uncovering the dish that containsLucio’slimbs.
Here’s flesh and blood, which I am sure thou lov’st.
[Pieroseems to condole his son.
Pan.Was he thy flesh, thy son, thy dearest son?
Ant.So was Andrugio, my dearest father.
Pan.So was Feliche, my dearest son.
EnterMaria.
Mar.So was Andrugio my dearest husband.
Ant.My father found no pity in thy blood.
Pan.Remorse was banish’d, when thou slew’st my son.
Mar.When thou empoisoned’st my loving lord,Exiled was piety.
Ant.Now therefore pity, piety, remorse,90Be aliens to our thoughts; grim fire-ey’d ragePossess us wholly.
Pan.Thy son? true; and which is my most joy,I hope no bastard, but thy very blood,Thy true-begotten, most legitimateAnd lovèd issue—there’s the comfort on’t.
Ant.Scum of the mud of hell!
Alb.Slime of all filth!
Mar.Thou most detested toad!
Bal.Thou most retort and obtuse rascal!
Ant.Thus charge we death at thee; remember hell,And let the howling murmurs of black spirits,101The horrid torments of the damnèd ghosts,Affright thy soul as it descendeth downInto the entrails of the ugly deep.
Pan.Sa, sa; no, let him die, and die, and still be dying.
[They offer to run all atPiero,and on a sudden stop.
And yet not die till he hath died and diedTen thousand deaths in agony of heart.
Ant.Now pellmell: thus the hand of Heaven chokesThe throat of murder. This for my father’s blood!
[He stabsPiero.
Pan.This for my son!110
Alb.This for them all!And this, and this, sink to the heart of hell!
[They run all atPierowith their rapiers.
Pan.Murder for murder, blood for blood, doth yell!
And.’Tis done, and now my soul shall sleep in rest:Sons that revenge their father’s blood are blest.
[The curtains being drawn, exitAndrugio.
EnterGaleatzo,twoSenators,Lucio,Forobosco,Castilio,and Ladies.
1stSen.Whose hand presents this gory spectacle?
Ant.Mine.
Pan.No, mine.
Alb.No, mine.
Ant.I will not lose the glory of the deed,120Were all the tortures of the deepest hellFix’d to my limbs. I pierced the monster’s heartWith an undaunted hand.
Pan.By yon bright-spangled front of heaven ’twas I!’Twas I sluiced[321]out his life-blood.
Alb.Tush, to say truth, ’twas all.
2d Sen.Blest be you all, and may your honours liveReligiously held sacred, even for ever and ever.
Gal.(toAntonio). Thou art another Hercules to us,In ridding huge pollution from our state.130
1stSen.Antonio, belief is fortifiedWith most invincible approvements[322]of much wrongBy this Piero to thee. We have foundBeadrolls of mischief, plots of villainy,Laid ’twixt the Duke and Strotzo, which we foundToo firmly acted.
2d Sen.Alas, poor orphant!
Ant.Poor!Standing triumphant over Belzebub!Having large interest for blood, and yet deem’d poor?
1stSen.What satisfaction outward pomp can yield,Or chiefest fortunes of the Venice state,140Claim freely. You are well-season’d props,And will not warp, or lean to either part;Calamity gives a man a steady heart.
Ant.We are amaz’d at your benignity;But other vows constrain another course.
Pan.We know the world, and did we know no more,We would not live to know; but since constraintOf holy bands forceth us keep this lodgeOf dirt’s corruption, till dread power callsOur soul’s appearance, we will live enclosed150In holy verge of some religious order,Most constant votaries.
[The curtains are drawn,Pierodeparteth.
Ant.First let’s cleanse our hands,Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love,Over whose hearse I’ll weep away my brainIn true affection’s tears.For her sake here I vow a virgin bed:She lives in me, with her my love is dead.
2d Sen.We will attend her mournful exequies;Conduct you to your calm sequestered life,And then——160
Mar.Leave us to meditate on misery,To sad our thought with contemplationOf past calamities. If any askWhere lives the widow of the poison’d lord?Where lies the orphant of a murder’d father?Where lies the father of a butcher’d son?Where lives all woe?—conduct him to us three,The down-cast ruins of calamity.
Ant.[323]Sound doleful tunes, a solemn hymn advance,To close the last act of my vengeance;170And when the subject of your passion’s spent,SingMellida is dead; all hearts will relent,In sad condolement at that heavy sound.Never more woe in lesser plot was found!And, O, if ever time create a muse,That to th’ immortal fame of virgin faithDares once engage his pen to write her death,Presenting it in some black tragedy,May it prove gracious; may his style be deck’dWith freshest blooms of purest elegance;May it have gentle presence, and the scenes suck’d upBy calm attention of choice audience;181And when the closing Epilogue appears,Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears.
[A song.—Exeunt omnes.
Antonii vindictæ[sic].