[275] Ed. 1631 “running.”
[276] Old eds. “they now be false.”
[277] Exclamation of impatience.
[278] Old form of colonel.
[279]
Old eds. “rarietie.” (The form rariety—which would
here be unmetrical—is sometimes found. Cf. Heywood’s Golden
Age, act iii.:—
“Then to our palace
Pass on in state: let all rarieties
Shower down from heaven a largess.”)
[280] For “my potent” the editor of 1820 reads “omnipotent.”
[281] Not unfrequently we find a plural verb following a singular subject.
[282] Ed. 1631 “sect” (a common form of “sex”).
[283] Old ed. “eyes.”
[284]
Cf. Jul. Cæs.
ii. 2:—
“Cowards die many times before their deaths:
The valiant never taste of death but once.”
[286] i.e. Counts.—Old eds. “Countesse.”
SCENE IV.
Venice.—A street.
Enter Lady Lentulus, Abigail, and Thais.
Abi.
Well, madam, you see the destiny that follows marriage:
Our husbands are quiet now, and must suffer the law.
Tha. If my husband had been worth the begging, some courtier would have had him; he might be begg’d[287] well enough, for he knows not his own wife from another.
Lady Lent. O, you’re a couple of trusty wenches, to deceive your husbands thus!
Abi. If we had not deceived them thus, we had been truss’d wenches.
Tha. Our husbands will be hang’d, because they think themselves cuckolds. 11
Abi. If all true cuckolds were of that mind, the hangman would be the richest occupation, and more wealthy widows than there be younger brothers to marry them.
Tha. The merchant venturers would be a very small company.
Abi. ’Tis twelve to one of that; however the rest ’scape, I shall fear a massacre.
Tha. If my husband hereafter, for his wealth, chance to be dubb’d, I’ll have him call’d the knight of the supposed horn. 22
Abi. Faith, and it sounds well.
Lady Lent. Come, madcaps, leave jesting, and let’s deliver them out of their earthly purgation; you are the spirits that torment them; but my love and lord, kind Mendoza, will lose his life to preserve mine honour, not for hate to others.
Abi. By my troth, if I had been his judge, I should have hang’d him, for having no more wit; I speak as I think, for I would not be hang’d for ne’er a man under the heav’ns. 32
Tha. Faith, I think I should for my husband: I do not hold the opinion of the philosopher, that writes, we love them best that we enjoy first; for I protest I love my husband better than any that did know me before.
Abi. So do I; yet life and pleasure are two sweet things to a woman.
Lady Lent. He that’s willing to die to save mine honour, I’ll die to save his. 40
Abi.
Tut, believe it who that list, we love a lively
man, I grant you; but to maintain that life I’ll ne’er
consent to die.
This is a rule I still will keep in breast,
Love well thy husband, wench, but thyself best!
Tha. I have followed your counsel hitherto, and mean to do still.
Lady Lent.
Come, we neglect our business; ’tis no jesting;
To-morrow they are executed ’less we reprieve them.
We be their destinies to cast their fate. 50
Let’s all go.
Abi. I fear not to come late.
[Exeunt.
[287] i.e., he might be begged for a fool.—See Nares’ Glossary.
Pavia.—A street.
Enter Don Sago solus, with a case of pistols.
Sago.
Day was my night, and night must be my day;
The sun shined on my pleasure with my love,
And darkness must lend aid to my revenge.
The stage of heaven is hung with solemn black,
A time best fitting to act tragedies.
The night’s great queen, that maiden governess,
Musters black clouds to hide her from the world,
Afraid to look on my bold enterprise.
Cursed creatures, messengers of death, possess the world;
Night-ravens, screetch-owls, and voice-killing[288] mandrakes,
The ghosts[289] of misers, that imprison’d gold 11
Within the harmless[290] bowels of the earth,
Are night’s companions. Bawds to lust and murder,
Be all propitious to my act of justice
Upon the scandalisers of her fame,
That is the lifeblood of deliciousness,
Deem’d[291] Isabella, Cupid’s treasurer,
Whose soul contains the richest gifts of love:
Her beauty from my heart fear doth expel:
They relish pleasure best that dread not hell! 20
Who’s there?
Enter Count Massino.[292]
Mass.
A friend to thee, if thy intents
Be just and honourable.
Sago. Count Massino,[292] speak, I am the watch.
Mass. My name is Massino:[292] dost thou know me?
Sago.
Yes, slanderous villain, nurse of obloquy,
Whose poison’d breath has speckled clear-faced[293] virtue,
And made a leper of Isabella’s fame,
That is as spotless as the eye of heaven!
Thy vital thread’s a-cutting; start not, slave;
He’s sure of sudden death, Heaven cannot save! 30
Mass.
Art not Gniaca turn’d apostata?[294]
Has pleasure once again turned thee again
A devil? art not Gniaca—hah?
Sago.
O that I were, then would I stab myself,
For he is mark’d for death as well as thee!
I am Don Sago, thy mortal enemy,
Whose hand love makes thy executioner!
Mass.
I know thee, valiant Spaniard, and to thee
Murder’s more hateful than is sacrilege.
Thy actions ever have been honourable. 40
Sago.
And this the crown of all my actions,
To purge the earth of such a man turn’d monster!
Mass. I never wrong’d thee, Spaniard—did I? speak:
[Tell[295] him all the plot.
I’ll make thee satisfaction like a soldier,
A true Italian, and a gentleman.
Thy rage is treachery without a cause.
Sago.
My rage is just, and thy heart blood shall know,
He that wrongs beauty, must be honour’s foe.
Isabel’s quarrel arms the Spaniard’s spirit!
Mass.
Murder should keep with baseness, not with merit. 50
I’ll answer thee to-morrow, by my soul,
And clear thy doubts, or satisfy thy will.
Sago.
He’s war’s best scholar can with safety kill.
Take this to-night; now meet with me to-morrow.
[Shoots. Massino falls dead.
I come, Isabella; half thy hate is dead;
Valour makes murder light, which fear makes lead.[296]
Enter Captain with a band of Soldiers.
Capt.
The pistol was shot here; seize him!
Bring lights. What, Don Sago, colonel of the horse?
Ring the alarum-bell, raise the whole city;
His troops are in the town; I fear treachery. 60
Who’s this lies murder’d? Speak, bloodthirsty Spaniard!
Sago. I have not spoil’d his face, you may know his visnomy.
Capt.
’Tis Count Massino;[297] go convey him hence;
Thy life, proud Spaniard, answers this offence.
A strong guard for the prisoner, ’less the city’s powers
Rise to rescue him!
[Begirt him with soldiers.
Sago.
What needs this strife?
Know, slaves, I prize revenge above my life.
Fame’s register to future times shall tell
That by Don Sago, Count Massino[297] fell!
[Exeunt omnes.
[288] Ed. 1631 and some copies of ed. 1613, “vote-killing.”—The mandrake plant was supposed to shriek so poignantly when pulled from the ground, as to cause madness or death in the person who plucked it.
[289] An allusion to the well-known superstition (to which there is a reference in Hamlet) that ghosts haunted the spot where they had concealed treasure in their lifetime.
[290]
The writer had certainly Hotspur’s words in his memory:—
“That villainous salt-petre should be digg’d
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth.”—1
Henry IV. i. 2.
[291] Qu. “Divine” or “Dear”?
[292] Old eds. “Rogero.”—The prefix to his speeches is “Rog.”
[293] Ed. 1631 “cleane fac’t.”
[294] An old form of “apostate.”
[295] I suppose it was left to the actor to explain shortly the history of Massino’s relations with Isabella.
[296] Old eds. “dead.”
[297] Old eds. “Rogero.”
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Pavia.—The place of execution.
Enter[298] Medina, followed by soldiers with the dead body of Count Massino on a bier; Don Sago guarded, Executioner. A scaffold laid out.
Med.
Don Sago, quakest thou not to behold this spectacle—
This innocent sacrifice, murder’d nobleness—
When blood, the Maker ever promiseth,
Shall though with slow yet with sure vengeance rest?
’Tis a guerdon earn’d, and must be paid;
As sure revenge, as it is sure a deed;
I ne’er knew murder yet, but it did bleed.
Canst thou, after so many fearful conflicts
Between this object and thy guilty conscience,
Now thou art freed from out the serpent’s jaws, 10
That vild adulteress, whose sorceries
Doth draw chaste men into incontinence—
Whose tongue flows over with harmful eloquence—
Canst thou, I say, repent this heinous act,
And learn to loathe that killing cockatrice?[299]
Sago.
By this fresh blood, that from thy manly breast
I cowardly sluiced[300] out, I would in hell,
From this sad minute till[301] the day of doom,
To re-inspire vain Æsculapius,
And fill these crimson conduits, feel the fire 20
Due to the damnèd and this horrid fact![302]
Med. Upon my soul, brave Spaniard, I believe thee.
Sago.
O cease to weep in blood, or teach me too!
The bubbling wounds[303] do murmur for revenge.
This is the end of lust, where men may see,
Murder’s the shadow of adultery,
And follows it to death.
Med.
But, hopeful lord, we do commiserate
Thy bewitch’d fortunes, a free pardon give
On this thy true and noble penitence. 30
Withal we make thee colonel of our horse,
Levied against the proud Venetian state.
Sago.
Medina, I thank thee not; give life to him
That sits with Risus and the full-cheek’d Bacchus,
The rich and mighty monarchs of the earth;
To me life is ten times more terrible
Than death can be to me. O, break, my breast!
Divines[304] and dying men may talk of hell,
But in my heart the several torments dwell.
What Tanais, Nilus, or what Tigris[305] swift, 40
What Rhenus ferier[306] than the cataract,—
Although[307] Neptolis cold, the waves of all the Northern Sea,
Should flow for ever through these guilty hands,
Yet the sanguinolent stain would extant be!
Med. God pardon thee! we do.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. The countess comes, my lord, unto the death;
[A shout.
But so unwillingly and unprepared,
That she is rather forced, thinking the sum
She sent to you of twenty thousand pound
Would have assurèd her of life.
Med.
O Heavens! 50
Is she not weary yet of lust and life?
Had it been Crœsus’ wealth, she should have died;
Her goods by law are all confiscate to us,
And die she shall: her lust
Would make a slaughter-house of Italy.
Ere she attain’d to four-and-twenty years,
Three earls, one viscount, and this valiant Spaniard,
Are known to ha’ been the fuel to her lust;
Besides her secret lovers, which charitably
I judge to have been but few, but some they were. 60
Here is a glass wherein to view her soul,
A noble but unfortunate gentleman,
Cropp’d by her hand, as some rude passenger
Doth pluck the tender roses in the bud!
Murder and lust, the least of which is death,
And hath she yet any false hope of breath?
Enter Isabella, with her hair hanging down, a chaplet of flowers on her head, a nosegay in her hand; Executioner before her, and with her a Cardinal.
Isa. What place is this?
Car. Madam, the Castle Green.
Isa. There should be dancing on a green, I think.
Car.
Madam,
To you none other than your dance of death.
70
Isa.
Good my Lord Cardinal, do not thunder thus;
I sent to-day to my physician,
And, as he says, he finds no sign of death.
Car. Good madam, do not jest away your soul.
Isa. O servant, how hast thou betray’d my life!
[To Sago.
Thou art my dearest lover now, I see;
Thou wilt not leave me till my very death.
Bless’d be thy hand! I sacrifice a kiss
To it and vengeance. Worthily thou didst;
He died deservedly. Not content to enjoy 80
My youth and beauty, riches and my fortune,
But like a chronicler of his own vice,
In epigrams and songs he tuned my name,
Renown’d me for a strumpet in the courts
Of the French King and the great Emperor.
Did’st thou not kill him drunk?[308]
Med. O shameless woman!
Isa.
Thou should’st, or in the embraces of his lust;
It might have been a woman’s vengeance.[309]
Yet I thank thee, Sago, and would not wish him living
Were my life instant ransom.
Car.
Madam, in your soul 90
Have charity.
Isa. There’s money for the poor.
[Gives him money.
Car.
O lady, this is but a branch of charity,
An ostentation, or a liberal pride:
Let me instruct your soul, for that, I fear,
Within the painted sepulchre of flesh,
Lies in a dead consumption. Good madam, read.
[Gives a book.
Isa. You put me to my book, my lord; will not that save me?[310]
Car. Yes, madam, in the everlasting world.
Sago. Amen, amen!
Isa.
While thou wert my servant, thou hast ever said 100
Amen to all my wishes. Witness this spectacle.
Where’s my lord Medina?
Med. Here, Isabella. What would you?
Isa. May we not be reprieved?
Med. Mine honour’s past; you may not.
Isa. No, ’tis my honour past.
Med. Thine honour’s past, indeed.
Isa. Then there’s no hope of absolute remission?
Med.
For that your holy confessor will tell you;
Be dead to this world, for I swear you die, 110
Were you my father’s daughter.
Isa. Can you do nothing, my Lord Cardinal?
Car.
More than the world, sweet lady; help to save
What hand of man wants power to destroy.
Isa.
You’re all for this world, then why not I?
Were you in health and youth, like me, my lord,
Although you merited the crown of life,
And stood in state of grace assured of it,
Yet in this fearful separation,
Old as you are, e’en till your latest gasp, 120
You’d crave the help of the physician,
And wish your days lengthen’d one summer longer.
Though all be grief, labour, and misery,
Yet none will part with it, that I can see.
Med. Up to the scaffold with her, ’tis late.
Isa.
Better late than never, my good lord; you think
You use square dealing, Medina’s mighty duke,
Tyrant of France, sent hither by the devil.
[She ascends the scaffold.
Med. The fitter to meet you.
Car. Peace! Good my lord, in death do not provoke her. 130
Isa.
Servant,
Low as my destiny I kneel to thee,
[To Sago.
Honouring in death thy manly loyalty;
And what so e’er become of my poor soul,
The joys of both worlds evermore be thine.
Commend me to the noble Count Gniaca,
That should have shared thy valour and my hatred:
Tell him I pray his pardon, and—
Medina, art [thou] yet inspired from heaven?
Show thy Creator’s image: be like Him, 140
Father of mercy.
Med. Head’s-man, do thine office.
Isa.
Now God lay all thy sins upon thy head,
And sink thee with them to infernal darkness,
Thou teacher of the furies’ cruelty!
Car.
O madam, teach yourself a better prayer;
This is your latest hour.
Isa.
He is mine enemy, his sight torments me;
I shall not die in quiet.
Med. I’ll be gone: off with her head there!
[Exit.
Isa.
Takest thou delight to torture misery? 150
Such mercy find thou in the day of doom.
Soul. My lord, here is a holy friar desires
To have some conference with the prisoners.
Enter Roberto, Count of Cyprus, in friar’s weeds.
Rob.
It is in private, what I have to say,
With favour of your fatherhood.
Car. Friar, in God’s name, welcome.
[Roberto ascends to Isabella.
Rob.
Lady, it seems your eye is still the same—
Forgetful of what most it should behold.
Do not you know me, then?
Isa.
Holy sir,
So far you are gone from my memory, 160
I must take truce with time ere I can know you.
Rob.
Bear record, all you blessèd saints in heaven,
I come not to torment thee in thy death;
For of himself he’s terrible enough.
But call to mind a lady like yourself;
And think how ill in such a beauteous soul,
Upon the instant morrow of her nuptials,
Apostasy and vild revolt would show:
Withal imagine that she had a lord,
Jealous the air should ravish her chaste looks:[311] 170
Doting like the creator in his models,
Who views them every minute, and with care
Mix’d in his fear of their obedience to him.
Suppose he[r] sung through famous Italy,
More common than the looser songs of Petrarch,
To every several zany’s instrument;
And he, poor wretch, hoping some better fate
Might call her back from her adulterate purpose,
Lives in obscure and almost unknown life,
Till hearing that she is condemn’d to die— 180
For he once loved her—lends his pinèd corpse
Motion to bring him to her stage of honour,
Where drown’d in woe at her so dismal chance,
He clasps her: thus he falls into a trance.
Isa.
O, my offended lord, lift up your eyes:
But yet avert them from my loathèd sight.
Had I with you enjoyed the lawful pleasure,
To which belongs nor fear nor public shame,
I might have lived in honour, died in fame!
Your pardon on my falt’ring knees I beg, 190
Which shall confirm more peace unto my death
Than all the grave instructions of the Church.
Rob.
Pardon belongs unto my holy weeds,
Freely thou hast it.
Farewell, my Isabella! let thy death
Ransom thy soul. O die a rare example!
The kiss thou gavest me in the church, here take;
As I leave thee, so thou the world forsake!
[Exit Roberto.
Car.[312]
Rare accident, ill welcome, noble lord.
Madam, your executioner desires you to forgive him. 200
Isa. Yes, and give him too. What must I do, my friend?
Exec. Madam, only tie up your hair.
Isa.
O, these golden nets,
That have ensnared so many wanton youths,
Not one but has been held a thread of life,
And superstitiously depended on.
Now to the block we must vail! What else?
Exec. Madam, I must entreat you, blind your eyes.
Isa.
I have lived too long in darkness, my friend;
And yet mine eyes, with their majestic light,
Have got new muses in a poet’s sprite. 210
They have been more gazed at than the god of day:
Their brightness never could be flatterèd,
Yet thou command’st a fixèd cloud of lawn
To eclipse eternally these minutes of light.
What else?
Exec.
Now, madam, all’s done,
And when you please, I’ll execute my office.
Isa.
We will be for thee straight.
Give me your blessing, my Lord Cardinal.
Lord, I am well prepared:
Murder and lust, down with my ashes sink, 220
But, like ingrateful seed, perish in earth,
That you may never spring against my soul,
Like weeds to choke it in the heavenly harvest.
I fall to rise; mount to thy Maker, spirit!
Leave here thy body, death has her demerit.
[The executioner strikes off her head.
Car. A host of angels be thy convey [sic] hence.
Re-enter Medina.[313]
Med.
To funeral with her body and this lord’s.
None here, I hope, can tax us of injustice:
She died deservedly, and may like fate
Attend all women so insatiate.
[Exeunt omnes. 230